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He closed the door and quickly walked around to the passenger side. Once he was in, he put the key in the ignition and started the motor. “Take the freeway to Oak Lawn. Exit and head north until it merges with Preston.”
She looked at him with surprise.
“That’s right, Laura. We’re going to your house.”
Getting past the policeman at the gate was going to be the next tricky part. While Laura drove, Griff formulated a plan.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said.
“I have so far, haven’t I?”
“Policemen in five states are looking for you.”
“But they haven’t found me.”
“Where have you been hiding?”
He didn’t answer that. “When we get to your place, make sure your headlights are on bright. Pull in so that they’re shining directly into the windshield of the patrol car that’s parked in front of the gate.”
“Are you sure the gate is still being guarded?”
“I’m sure.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Followed Rodarte.”
She looked at him with astonishment. “You’ve been following Rodarte? How?”
“What’s the code on your gate?”
She turned her head back to the road, and her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I can’t think of a single reason why I should tell you that.”
“Can you think of a reason why your husband would have had half a million in cash at your house that night, stacked neatly in a stationery box?”
“I explained that to Rodarte.” In nervous stops and starts, she told Griff about Foster’s heavy tipping practice.
“Half a million dollars’ worth?” Griff said, laughing. “Nobody’s that generous.”
“Rodarte believed me.”
“I doubt it. In any case, I could throw a shitload of doubt on that explanation. Or”—he paused for emphasis—“you could give me the gate code.” She gave him the code, and then he told her how it was going to play out when they reached the estate.
As instructed, when she turned in to the private drive, she pulled in so that her headlights shone directly into the squad car. Griff opened the passenger door. Before getting out, he said, “I could make mincemeat of Foster Speakman’s reputation. Remember that.”
He stepped out of the car, leaving the door open, and walked toward the keypad on the column near the gate.
The policeman had got out of the squad car and was approaching him, his hand raised, shielding his eyes against the glare of Laura’s headlights. Griff kept moving, asking over his shoulder, “How’s it going here? Everything quiet?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Officer?” Laura called out to him.
The cop turned toward her. Griff reached the column, punched in the sequence of numbers she had given him, holding his breath until the double gate began to swing open.
“Is everything all right here?” Laura had alighted and was standing in the open door of her car, talking to the policeman.
“Yes, ma’am.”
