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She gave his clothing a once-over. “The police were looking for a man in running shorts and sneakers.”
“Which were barely holding together by daylight the next day. I was traveling light, but luckily, before going to Turner’s house, I’d put some cash in my sock. I used it the next day to buy some clothes at a big flea market.” He glanced down at the T-shirt and work pants. “Selection was limited. I’m sure some of the goods were hot, so no one questioned the customer who looked like he’d been dunked in a polluted river and then run through a shredder.”
“Were you recognized?”
“Doubtful. The market draws a large Hispanic crowd. Typically they follow soccer, not American football. I tried to be inconspicuous.”
Her eyes shifted up to his blond hair. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“Especially not when I started asking around about Manuelo Ruiz, looking for someone who might know him. Those inquiries aroused more suspicion than my ragtag appearance. I didn’t stay long.”
“Where have you been hiding?”
He didn’t reply.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“The less you know, the better. Rodarte can never accuse you of collaborating with me. You’re my hostage. Got that?”
“I’ve got it. I don’t think Rodarte will be convinced. When he introduced himself, I recognized his name immediately. Before, when you warned me about him, you didn’t say he was a policeman. You made him sound like a criminal. You said he’d beat up a friend of yours.”
“He did. And sodomized her. Ruined her face. Broke—”
“A woman?”
“Yeah, and Rodarte nearly killed her.”
Laura had assumed Griff was referring to a male friend. Learning that Rodarte had assaulted a woman filled her with repugnance and fear. “He attacked her because of you?”
“Because she wouldn’t give him any information.”
“What kind of information?”
“About my past and present business dealings. Not that she knew anything, but it did her no good to tell Rodarte that.”
“He must have thought she knew something. Is she a close friend?”
“I guess you could call it a friendship. Actually, I’m her client. She’s a prostitute.”
That piece of news took her aback. Had he been using the hundred thousand she and Foster had paid him to buy the services of a prostitute? Of course the money was his to spend, it was just that she had never known anyone, of either sex, who admitted going to a prostitute. Maybe that was why it was so startling to her that he had in such a matter-of-fact way.
Curiosity compelled her. “What’s her name?”
“Marcia. She’s not a street hooker. She has a penthouse. She’s clean, classy, very expensive, beautiful. Or was. It’s been months since the assault, and she’s still recovering, going through a series of reconstructive surgeries on her face. She won’t even talk to me about the other. Rodarte has a badge, but he uses it as a free pass to hurt people and get away with it.” He shot her a glance. “You’ve been with him. Did he ever touch you?”
“Last night he stroked my arm. It made me shudder. I think he knew that, and that’s why he did it. Behind everything he said was a sexual innuendo.”
Griff’s long fingers were flexing and contracting around the steering wheel as though preparing to pull it out of the dashboard. “It was only a matter of time before he hurt you. Which was another reason I wanted to get you out of there. Anything he did to you, he would have felt you had coming because of your affair with me.”
She remembered Rodarte coming up close behind her, promising in an insinuating whisper to be her protector—or not—when her affair with Griff was exposed. Griff may indeed have rescued her. But there was still much he had to answer for. “So you had a car, and a hiding place, and you’ve been following Rodarte.”
“You were my connection to Manuelo. I knew you’d be essential to finding him. But I also knew Rodarte would be keeping close watch on you, expecting me to turn up sooner or later.
“Yesterday evening, after the funeral and reception, I was parked on Preston Road, near where I left the car tonight. When I saw this caravan of police cars coming from the direction of the estate, I pulled out into traffic. So I was actually ahead of your police escort. I slowed, let you drive past, then followed you to the hotel.”
“How’d you get the room number?”
“I didn’t, but it was a logical guess that you’d be on the top floor.”
