Page 123 of Sting

Hickam was the first to speak. “You aren’t surprised?”

“Not all that much, no. I’ll be right back.”

She left her seat on the sofa, went into her bedroom, and retrieved the cell phone from between the mattresses where she’d hidden it until she decided what to do about it. This new information had made the decision for her.

She went back into the living room and held out the phone where the agents could see it. She explained how she’d come by it. “Josh knows I proofread all printed matter before sending it on to the client. It was safe for him to assume that the box of invitations would eventually wind up in my hands.”

“What if somebody else had answered when he called that phone?” Hickam asked.

“He’d have hung up, I suppose. Or if he never had need of it, it would have gone unused, forever a mystery as to how it got into that box. When he heard about Royce Sherman, he panicked and called me. He believes Panella killed Sherman and is afraid that he’ll be next.”

Hickam took the phone from her and turned it on.

While they waited for it to boot up, she related her conversation with Josh. Her account was interspersed with questions from either Hickam or Wiley, who asked when she was going to get around to telling them about the phone and the call.

“I admit I hadn’t decided whether to tell you at all. Josh was having a paranoid episode. I was tempted to keep that line of communication with him open.”

“Is he suicidal?” Hickam asked.

“Even in the throes of a panic attack he’s never threatened to take his own life, and he didn’t today. But I believe he’s on the brink of a complete breakdown. I thought that if I kept the phone, maybe I could eventually talk him down, persuade him to surrender. But in light of what that young lady told Shaw…”

At the slip of his name, she automatically looked in his direction. Since entering the suite, he hadn’t uttered a word. No questions for her. No comments on anything she’d said. He had remained perfectly still in his chair, silent and listening, riveted on her, as watchful as a hawk.

Her involuntary glance at him now produced a purl of awareness, low and deep and sexual. It made her furious that he still had the power to evoke a reaction like that. It made her angry at herself for being susceptible.

Going back to the others, she said, “In view of what the girl said about the killer’s voice, Josh’s hysteria is justified.” She paused, then added, “Of course we could all be mistaken.”

Dangerous place, denial.

As though Shaw had spoken the words again, she looked across at him. He hadn’t moved. His predatory gaze was still steady on her.

She said, “Royce Sherman could’ve gotten under anyone’s skin. Any number of people could have followed him from the bar to that side road.”

“It was all I could do to keep from decking him when Hick and I interviewed him,” Wiley said. “So I would tend to agree with you, Ms. Bennett. Except I just wonder how many of Royce’s potential grudge bearers would use an electrolarynx?”

The answer being obvious, as were its implications, Jordie sat down on the sofa and folded her arms across her middle in a subconscious gesture of self-protection.

“I don’t think Uncle Clive killed him,” Hickam said.

“Me either.” Wiley sighed and looked down at Jordie. “This public hotel has become too public for comfort. As a precaution, we’re going to move you to a safe house.”

“You checked me in under an assumed name, and only we in this room know that I’m here.”

“I’m not willing to bet your life on that,” Wiley said.

She didn’t argue with him, but she didn’t believe that relocating her would guarantee her safety. Panella had far-reaching tentacles and thirty million dollars’ worth of resources. If he wanted to find her, he could.

All this time, Hickam had periodically been calling the unknown number on the cell phone. He called it again now. They could all hear it ringing, but there was no answer.

“I’ve called back several times,” Jordie told him. “He hasn’t answered.”

“No hint of where he is?” Wiley asked.

“I begged him to tell me. He refused. He’s afraid that Panella is watching me, that if I go to him, Panella won’t be far behind.”

Wiley scratched his head. “Josh must be in the general vicinity, or he wouldn’t have seen that news story about Sherman. What I don’t get? Once he retrieved the car from the public storage place, he could’ve gone anywhere on the continent. Instead he returned here where recapture is much more likely. Also the first place Panella would look for him. So why’d he come back? It’s not like he has a passel of friends and relatives who’d give him a place to lay low. In fact, there’s only one person on earth who’d do that.”

On the last sentence, the agent’s tone changed and he assumed an interrogator’s stance in front of Jordie. She shifted her gaze to Hickam, who was holding the cell phone in his palm. Suddenly it looked incriminating. Going back to Wiley, she said, “I’m certainly not harboring him. How could I be?”

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