“And no one’s seen a sign of Tarasov?”
“Nothing. One of my guys scared the hell out of an Amazon driver two days ago. He was taking a leak behind the neighbor’s garage.”
“How long before someone reports a Verizon van for overstaying its welcome?”
“We never sit for longer than six hours with that one. And we only use Verizon once, every two weeks. Dominion Power gives us a few days, if we move around on the street. Fairfax County too. We rely on regular sedans a good part of the time, including all the night shifts. We’ve had eyes on the premises twenty-four seven.”
The Andersons’ small brick house looks tired under the sullen July sky. The hydrangea flowers have long since faded from blue to brown. The hostas are singed at the tips of every leaf. Scraggly grass has grown over the apron of the driveway.
Mr. A hates using the edger. Besides, I keep a straighter line than he does. Or maybe he just said that so I’d take on the job. So I’d feel like I was succeeding at something.
“Cover me,” I say grimly, reaching for my door handle. “I’m going in.”
Jacobson reaches for his shoulder holster.
“That was a joke,” I say.
“I’m laughing.” He isn’t, of course. I’ve never seen the man crack a smile.
There hasn’t been a lot to smile about in the forty-eight hours since Collins was executed. Best assures me that in the history of Sawgrass Corporation, there’s never been a failure of security like that. He was actually embarrassed as he stood at attention in my office, briefing me on all the steps he’s taken to correct the breakdown.
All gambling—from the office pool for March Madness to personal vacations in Vegas—is forbidden to all personnel.
All personnel are now required to submit to random checks on their bank accounts at intervals to be determined by Sawgrass.
Additional questions have been added to the already invasive polygraph tests conducted regularly on all personnel.
All fees paid by me for the past two months have been refunded. Sawgrass will provide its services for free through the end of the year.
That last point is a relief I’m afraid to let myself fully consider. Maintaining full security at the house and on the road was already a hefty expense when my billionaire status was secure. With the IRS preparing to gut me, the cost had become a much greater concern.
I hate needing to think that way. I feel as if I’ve slipped back decades, to huddling in a crappy motel with Shannon and Megan, waiting for the night manager to nod off so we can skip out without paying our bill. I thought I’d put that oily sensation behind me forever.
Bestdidn’tmention that I made things worse by failing to report my suspicions the first time Tarasov contacted me with information he shouldn’t have had. Best is a professional. He doesn’t blame the victim.
Now, Jacobson climbs out of the car when I do. Ever the proper Boy Scout, he looks both ways as he prepares to cross the street.
I hold up one hand. “I’d prefer to do this alone.”
“Sawgrass would prefer you protected at all times.”
“Noted. Get back in the car.”
“Mr. Wolf,” he says.
“Tony.”
Sighing, he gets back in the car. But he turns on the engine for long enough to roll down his window. From the angle of his arm, I’m fairly certain his weapon is no longer holstered. Instead, it’s resting on his lap for the fastest possible retrieval.
It’s only as I’m crossing the street that I realize I should have brought a gift. Flowers, maybe. A box of the Russell Stoverchocolates Mrs. A loves. A couple of pints of Mr. A’s favorite peach ice cream.
Too late.
At least I can check the mailbox for them. Half the time, they’re both too busy with Saturday chores to pick up the day’s mail.
Sure enough, there’s a catalog for electronics gear. Tucked into its pages are a flyer from the local grocery store, a request for money from the animal shelter, and a credit card statement. For a man who teaches robotics, Mr. A has a surprising attachment to paper bills.
I knock on the door, fighting the wild animals raking their claws through my belly. I’ll ring the doorbell if they don’t answer. I can try the hidden key again if I have to.
