AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What?"
"He killed himself shortly after returning to his cell. Cyanide, it seems."
"Ransom must have slipped it to him. He warned Chandler that the hounds were coming and gave him a way out. That's why I heard them. They were coming for Chandler." I exhaled. "Shit."
"There will be an investigation," Gabriel said. "As his final visitors, we'll be questioned. We may also be suspected."
"Of giving him the pill? But we never touched him and the guard can confirm . . . Except the guard wasn't a guard at all."
"There were security cameras. As well as the second guard. I doubt we'd be seriously considered as suspects."
"Okay, so what about Jon Childs? The guy Chandler wanted you to kill."
"I had no intention of actually--"
I cut him off with a look. "I know that. You just wanted to get his name and find out why Chandler wants him dead."
He nodded, pleased that I'd figured it out and relieved that I'd known he wouldn't kill a man--at least, not one who didn't present an immediate lethal threat.
"So let's find Jon Childs," I said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
While neither Jon nor Childs is a particularly uncommon name, when you put the two together you get fewer than twenty adult males in the country. And exactly one in the Greater Chicago area.
The Chicago Jon Childs was a thirty-six-year-old self-employed equities trad
er. Successful, according to his tax records. Yes, we had access to his tax records. Or Lydia did. Not necessarily legally. She'd spent most of her working life as the executive assistant to Chicago's Field Office Special Agent in Charge. That would be the CIA field office.
Before I met Lydia, I'd presumed that husky voice on the phone belonged to some hot young thing. When we did meet, I realized my unforgivable lapse in reasoning. There was no way in hell Gabriel would hire eye candy to manage his office when he could get someone like Lydia for the same salary, given she was past retirement age and just looking for an interesting way to spend her time. Working for Gabriel was nothing if not interesting.
According to Lydia's research, Childs was a graduate of Portland State who'd moved to Chicago ten years ago, immediately opening his own business and attracting a decent clientele. Never married. No kids. No affiliation with any known political party or other group. In other words, a guy without ties. Not unlike the man I worked for. A lack of ties meant a lack of accountability and, well, let's face it, a lack of witnesses.
Childs worked from home, which made it difficult to stake him out. Problem number two? We could find absolutely no photographic record of him. No passport. No driver's license.
The only alternative was to call him up, express interest in his services, and persuade him to meet with me. Except Childs wasn't home, and he didn't seem to have an admin assistant. I left a message with my cell number.
--
Lydia was on the phone as we were walking past her desk. She flagged me down and covered the receiver.
"I can finally get you in to see Todd," she said.
I froze mid-step. Gabriel turned to me. "You'd rather not?"
"No, I--"
"Let me rephrase that. I know you'd rather not. I'm going to leave this ball in your court, Olivia. If you wish to visit Todd at some juncture, let Lydia know and--"
"Tuesday."
He hesitated.
"I'll go Tuesday," I said.
"That's tomorrow."
"Oh, right. Maybe . . ." I took a deep breath and turned to Lydia. "I'd like to go tomorrow if you can make the arrangements, please."
