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“I need to give you this,” he said. “It’s impossible to get off this thing.”
“Keep it. Harley told me a couple of weeks ago where he kept a spare key hidden.”
“Out here?” Man Number One sounded outraged. “Why would he do something so stupid? Those brainy types never have any common sense.”
“No, not out here,” Number Two replied. “In the laundry room. No one would think to look there.”
Fiona’s heart stopped. Damn it. She glanced around. No place to hide. If they came in here to retrieve the key, she was busted.
On the other hand, she’d know where the key had been stashed.
Holding her breath, she braced herself for the two men to appear. Luckily, she had her laundry, so she continued to slowly place one wet clothing item at a time into the dryer.
“Here it is!” the first guy announced, all triumphant. “I got it off the chain. The key is your responsibility now.”
A moment later, she heard the solid metal door open. Once the men went through, it clanked shut behind them. And then she heard the sound of the dead bolt clicking into place as they locked it.
Damn. It had been left unlocked last time. She could only hope the key fit both locks. It must, since they’d discussed one key rather than two.
Getting to her feet, Fiona looked around. Somewhere inside this laundry room, a spare key had been hidden. All she needed to do was find it.
Aware that at least one of the guards, if not both, would eventually return, presumably after completing their check on things, she started searching. First, she checked all the obvious places—inside the linen cabinet, on the shelf near the detergent and fabric softener, and behind the bins used to pick up the dirty towels. No sign of a key.
Think. It had to be someplace easily accessible but still well hidden. If the guard was too lazy to carry a key around with him, he wouldn’t want to expend a lot of effort to get it.
The folding table. She checked underneath. Sure enough, someone had glued a small plastic pouch near the front corner. Inside, she found a metal key.
Triumphant, she slid it into her pocket and went to check the dryer. Since her stuff was still wet, she left it there for now and strolled on out and back to her room. She’d come back and retrieve it later.
The key. She had the freaking key. Inside her room, she closed the door. Keeping it in her pocket—because she still wasn’t sure if there might be a camera here or there—she debated not only where to hide it, but whether to show it to Jake.
While she appreciated his help, the FBI wasn’t in the practice of endangering innocent citizens. Going down into the basement could be considered hazardous, therefore she didn’t think she should involve him. Best to go it alone.
Now to figure out when. Clearly, the place was well guarded at night, since the two men had talked about having to sleep there.
It would have to be during the day. From what she’d seen, the guards left periodically, whether to have a meal or just take a break. She’d need to time everything perfectly, so she’d need to learn when the guards left. Patience, she reminded herself. She’d keep an eye on the hallway and make notes whenever she saw guards leaving or arriving.
Satisfied with her plan, even if it was going to take a few days, she decided to focus on Leigh and, by proxy, Micheline.
Micheline’s latest scheme—inventing a fake baby and then trying to sell it to the Colton family—seemed sloppy. Especially for someone usually so meticulous with details. She seemed to be all over the place, at least judging by what Leigh passed on. Schemes of a mass suicide, extorting money from the Coltons, milking impressionable college students: all indicated Micheline was ramping up her attempts to increase her fortune.
Why? What had changed? All along, the AAG had continued to churn away, staying just under the radar of law enforcement. They were widely perceived as charlatans and well-known for bilking people out of their life savings, but due to not only the lack of complaints, but the fact that people received services such as seminars and self-help classes, as well as books, no actual charges had ever been filed.
In fact, until the Mustang Valley Police Department had received several calls from worried relatives believing their family members’ had not only lost their savings in her schemes but that their lives might be in danger, law enforcement had considered their hands to be tied. And then, when an informant had mentioned money laundering, the FBI had gotten involved.
Now this—rumors of something big, something dangerous about to occur had Fiona feeling the pressure. Though undercover stings often were long, drawn out affairs, she knew she couldn’t let anyone die if there was a way to prevent it.
She went for a long walk by herself and called Holden while she was out. Once she’d outlined Micheline’s latest scheme, he whistled. “Are you sleeping with him?”
Though she flushed with embarrassment, she kept her voice steady. “I am. It’s a long story.”
“Ok.” To his credit, Holden didn’t judge. “Though selling a baby is definitely a crime, considering what other misdeeds we think she’s committing, or about to commit, that’s small potatoes, though.”
“True,” she agreed. “I don’t even know if she’ll actually follow through. But it’s the first time I’ve actually witnessed her doing something that could constitute an actual crime. Yet.”
“Just wait and watch,” he said. “And be careful.”
“Always. I did figure out a way to get into the locked basement. I’ve just got to get the timing right. Who knows what I’ll find down there? Since she has the place heavily guarded, it might be something interesting.”
