Page 19 of To Die For

At ten sharp he knocked on Saxby’s door. The FBI agent looked exhausted with dark rings under her eyes, and a cup of black coffee in hand.

“How was your evening?” he asked.

“You trying to be funny? How was yours?”

“Eventful.”

“Meaning?” she said sharply.

He explained about the late Perry Rollins but left out telling her about the two men who had said they had known the Odoms. He wasn’t in a real trusting mood right now and he wanted to see how all of this played out before fully looping in the Bureau, if he ever did.

She exclaimed, “A guy selling dirt on Glass goes down minutes after pitching you the business? You think Glass had him killed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, she can’t go and meet with him now,” observed Saxby. “A man connected to Glass has beenmurdered.”

Devine shook his head. “Like you said before, innocent until proven guilty. And if you try to put the kibosh on the meeting, your supervisor will probably transplant you permanently to a one-person office in the wilds of Alaska. I doubt you want to earn the rest of your government pension counting down the seconds of your life.”

She took a gulp of coffee, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and plopped down on the couch. “I really don’t need this shit.”

“But for now, it’s tag and I’m it. I’ll take her and bring her back.”

She glanced up at him. “Okay, here’s the rundown. Glass has reservations at the Four Seasons hotel restaurant. They meet for two hours max. No going anywhere else. You can leave them together, but you are to maintain visual contact at all times, no matter what.”

“Okay. Is Betsy ready?”

“I heard her moving around close to six, so I’d say definitely yes.”

“She must be excited.”

“Or nervous,” Saxby shot back.

“Or both,” amended Devine. “How’d you sleep?”

“That damn couch is older than I am. And I’ve had insomnia for two years.”

“Army has a method for falling asleep. I can teach you.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Army, huh? How long were you in for?” asked Saxby.

“Little over ten.”

“Then you were well on your way to a full ride and a nice pension.”

“You know about such things?”

“My ex was in the Marines.”

“Did he do the full ride?” asked Devine.

“Yeah, and then the asshole divorced me and married a twenty-something hair stylist, whoIintroduced him to, to work on his bald spot to make him feel better about himself, if you can believe the irony.”

Again, Devine was startled by the personal information dump and didn’t respond directly to it. “You have kids?”

She nodded, her mouth widening almost to a smile. “Two boys. Fourteen and sixteen.”

“Who do they stay with when you’re on the road?”

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