Page 62 of Bad Seed

Cameron threw back his head and laughed.

“That’s your mini-me,” he said.

Rusty frowned. “Who taught her that?”

“I did, Mama,” Mikey said. “I’m teachin’ her self-offense.”

“Obviously…and it’s supposed to be defending, not offending… Lord,” she muttered. “And he’s your mini-me,” she added, pointing to Mikey.

Cameron’s laughter followed her back to their office, and moments later, she was typing out all of her notes from her phone conversation with Harley Banks and saving them in a file. As soon as she finished, she typed a detailed letter, attached the notes, and emailed it to Special Agent Jay Howard, the agent she used to work with, who was now part of a task force investigating human trafficking on the East Coast.

The ball was rolling. It remained to be seen if any of it would come undone.

***

Jay Howard knew Rusty Pope had resumed work with the Company. It was consulting only, but she was so good at research and spotting the holes in written testimonies that they were glad to have her back.

After he received the email and the attachments she’d sent, at first, he missed the point. Some PI named Harley Banks had been warned of a hit man on her trail because of a crime she’d uncovered during a corporate audit. But as he read further, realizing it was connected to the recent raid on the Crossley warehouse in Philadelphia and that Wilhem Crossley himself had been the one to warn her, he began to take notice. He began opening the attachments and reading the notes Harley made on the son, Tipton Crossley, and he was hooked. Tip Crossley was already a person of interest in the case, but they had nothing on him.

He sent a quick message to the rest of the team to meet in his office first thing tomorrow morning. That he had new information to share.

***

Ollie Prine was back in Philadelphia, sleeping in his own bed, doing his own laundry, and catching up on past-due bills. Without a warehouse to go to, and everybody in jail or on the lam, he didn’t have anyone to hang out with. And, he was fairly confident after Paget was killed that nobody would have the guts to rat him out for missing the raid.

In his dreams, he wished Berlin would take a hike. He was tired of this hunt for some woman just for petty revenge. He couldn’t walk out. Berlin would just have him killed. Ollie knew too much about all the wrong things.

Then the very next day, someone knocked on his door. He opened it to find a messenger standing on his doorstep. “Oliver Prine?” the kid asked.

Ollie nodded.

He handed Ollie a packet and held out an iPad. “Sign here, please,” he said.

Ollie signed his name and the kid turned around and left.

Ollie went back inside and opened the packet.

Five thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills labeled Travel Money. An address for a hotel in a town called Jubilee, Kentucky.

And a four-word demand: GET IT OVER WITH.

***

Two days later, Harley was up before daylight, still working on the hotel audit and sick of this room. She was tired of her own company. Tired of hiding. Tired of this feeling of being hunted and not knowing her enemy’s face. She had a pounding headache. Either too much coffee and no food this morning, or eye stress from staring at a computer screen for days, or a little of both.

She hadn’t seen Brendan since the night before last. He’d worked a double shift last night and called to let her know he wouldn’t come by because it would likely be after ten before the kitchen shut down, but that, too, put her in a snit, which made her realize she was getting attached.

Finally, she shut down her workstation, took a couple of painkillers, and lay down on the sofa to rest her eyes. Then her phone rang. One glance at the screen and she answered.

“Hello.”

“Morning, Sunshine. What’s happening in your world today? Need anything? It’s my day off. I’m all yours if you need me.”

If I need you? What about if I want you?But she didn’t say it. “I’m being all pitiful today. I have a headache that’s going to make me sick. It happens when I’ve been staring at a computer screen too long, and I want out of this room.”

There was a moment of silence, and Harley thought he’d hung up.

“Brendan? Are you still there?”

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