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“What?”
“Presumably, the police were alerted to Grover’s murder. We didn’t call them. So who did?”
“The killer, I assume.”
“Right. Do you think the killer knew we were going to see Grover, or do you think it was a coincidence that he was murdered within thirty minutes of your call?”
“Clearly, they knew.”
He sounded cranky. She didn’t care.
“Isn’t it also reasonable to assume they were setting us up to take the fall for his murder?”
She waited. He didn’t respond. She risked looking at him.
“Please watch where you’re going. Yes, of course. But we didn’t kill Grover.”
“Sure. And we’re driving around with a gun, a gangster roll, and a cabinet full of a dead man’s documents. You were a prosecutor. Would you believe us?”
In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of his jaw softening. “No, but, Leilah, fleeing makes us look a thousand times more guilty. You have to see that.”
“But we’re alive.” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t stop thinking about King Cortez the entire time we sat there with those lights flashing behind us and the police officers blocking the road ahead of us. He went to prison for what arguably should have been a misdemeanor prison charge and ended up dead. If this is all related to his case, what makes you think the same thing wouldn’t happen to us?”
He was silent for a long time. Then he lowered the passenger side window and reached into her purse.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re right,” he told her as he removed the burner from her bag. “And if they knew we were going to see Grover, they were either listening to his calls or mine. Probably his, because this is a clean phone. Well, it was a clean phone until I called Grover from it. Now, we can’t risk using it.”
He stuck his hand out the window and released the phone. It bounced and rolled over the hard earth. A cool salty breeze coming off the water blew through the car before he raised the window again.
“Remember what you said about rogue agents back in D.C.?”
“Sure.”
“Could those police have been acting without authorization? Maybe that’s why they didn’t follow us or call in a chopper or something.”
He considered this for a moment. “It’s possible. If so, this thing, whatever it is, has tentacles that reach everywhere. I hope that’s not the reason. I hope they’re just a small overextended department without the resources to pursue us out of their jurisdiction.”
She hoped so, too. The alternative explanation chilled her.
She leaned forward and squinted at a road they were approaching diagonally. “Can you read that sign? Is this Route 33?”
He peered ahead. “Yes.”
“Hang on.” She crashed through a low fence and bumped over a shallow drainage ditch before hanging a hard right and fishtailing onto the road. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I think I’m getting used to your bone-rattling driving, unfortunately.”
She smiled. “You’re teasing me. Does that mean you aren’t mad anymore?”
“It means I understand why you did what you did. But we’re still not back to the flirting stage,” he told her.
“Give me time, Hayes. Give me time.”
He laughed, then grew serious. “You realize we really are on our own now. We have no way to call Potomac even if we wanted to.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
