Death Angel (Page 76)

She loved the city, Andie thought as she watched the skyline getting closer. She loved the people and the busy pace, the sights and sounds and smells. Kansas City wasn’t a small town, by any means, but it wasn’t anywhere near the scale of New York. Maybe, if things worked out, she could move back here.

Or maybe not. She wouldn’t be able to get a high-paying job, and Manhattan was expensive. The money she had from the sale of the jewelry wouldn’t last long here. She had to be practical, because she had no particular skills or job training, and wanting more than what she could provide for herself was what had led her to men like Rafael in the first place. From now on, she would content herself with what she could afford.

She checked into the Holiday Inn, and when she was in her small, rather dingy room she hauled out the gargantuan phone book and began looking for a number. "United States Government," she murmured, then found the group of listings and began running her finger down the column. When she got to the number she wanted, she kept her finger on it while, with her other hand, she turned on her cell phone and waited for it to find service. When it did, she punched in the number.

THERE SHE WAS. He’d found her. She’d finally turned on her cell phone.

Simon’s fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, typing in commands. He had relocated to San Francisco, and remained there longer than he’d ever been in any one place. Now that he wasn’t active in the business anymore, he had no need to keep moving around. He hadn’t exactly put down roots, but he’d modified his habits somewhat.

He had left Kansas City when he’d told Andie he was leaving. He didn’t want to crowd her; he’d given her a lot to think about, and she had some adjustments to make. He had kept track of her and been reassured when her movements seemed to be mostly routine, though it bothered him that she hadn’t gone back to Glenn’s. The fact that she hadn’t put him on alert, and he’d kept an unusually close watch on her movements.

His cell phone had buzzed before dawn, though he wasn’t immediately alarmed. Kansas City was in a different time zone, so it was well after dawn there. But he got up and tracked the Explorer, and when its movement stopped at the airport he’d broken out in a cold sweat. She was getting on a damn plane, and he was a thousand miles away, unable to do a fucking thing about it.

He hadn’t hacked into any system in months, hadn’t needed to. He didn’t know which airline she’d used, which hampered him, but he began systematically searching them all, just in case she either hadn’t taken her cell phone with her or didn’t bother turning it on until she needed to use it.

When the locator in the phone was powered up, he immediately typed in the commands that would tell him exactly where she was, and when the map popped up on the screen he felt icy sweat pop out on his skin.

She was in New York.

Chapter Thirty

THE NEXT MORNING, ANDIE WORKED HER WAY THROUGH all the barricades and security checks at Federal Plaza. She was given a visitor’s ID and an escort, shown where to wait, and eventually she went into a small office. Special Agent Rick Cotton got to his feet when she entered, shaking the hand she held out. He had a nice firm handshake, not too tight and not wimpy, but at first glance she didn’t see what was so special about him.

He was middle-aged and graying, though still trim, and he had a calm, mild expression. The impression she got from the way others acted around him was that he was liked, but there was no sizzle of electricity that said he was a mover and shaker. She knew sizzle, because she’d been in very close contact with it one summer afternoon last year. The force of Simon’s personality dominated any room he was in, while Rick Cotton would barely be noticed.

"Please have a seat, Ms. Pearson," Agent Cotton said, indicating a battered-looking straight-backed chair. "I believe your message said you have some information about someone named Rafael Salinas?"

If those cards got any closer to his chest, Andie thought, he wouldn’t be able to see them himself. He wanted her to show her hand first, which was fine with her.

"My name isn’t Pearson," Andie said. "It’s Andrea Butts. I used to go by the name Drea Rousseau, and I lived with Rafael Salinas for two years."

She saw the shock in his face before he could school his expression. He blinked, staring at her. "I had long, blond, curly hair then," she added helpfully.

He said, "Just a moment," and picked up his phone and dialed an extension. He said, "Drea Rousseau is sitting in my office," and replaced the handset.

He sat silently, and so did she. She honestly had no idea if she would be of any use to the FBI, or they to her, but they were the logical place to start. Offering herself as bait would work only if someone was watching the trap, otherwise the bait was just a meal. She might not be able to do anything about Rafael; if she couldn’t, then at least she had tried.

A sandy-haired man opened the door and came in. "Ms. Rousseau," he said, "I’m Special Agent Brian Hulsey; I’m in charge of the Salinas investigation now. Would you step into my office, please?"

Andie paused, her head cocked a little to the side as she studied him. He hadn’t knocked before entering Agent Cotton’s office, and she had caught the slight emphasis he’d placed on the word "now," which had been completely unnecessary unless he was making a point to the agent who had been in charge of the investigation before. Office politics, she guessed, with ego and a power display thrown in. Agent Cotton, on the other hand, looked mild and unperturbed. No ego there, and he wasn’t interested in power.

"No," she said, drawing the word out a little as she reached a decision. "I’ll talk with Special Agent Cotton."

Special Agent Hulsey said, "You misunderstand. Agent Cotton is no longer in charge of-"