Page 75 of A Deeper Darkness

“Time to go.” He stood briskly. Sam grabbed his arm.

“If you try walking out now I’ll announce who you are in front of this whole bar.”

He stopped. “You wouldn’t,” he whispered in horror.

“I most certainly would. I’ve got nothing to lose. Sit down.” She used her best get-to-work voice, one she learned as a resident, corralling med students, and used on the techs when they started screwing around.

It worked. He sat.

“Now. Tell me the truth. Did you break into the house? And leave the baseball cap on the bed?”

He started to hum, and look at the nails on his right hand. Okay. Plausible deniability. He wouldn’t tell her, but he wouldn’t stop her from guessing.

“Who went to the school?”

He just raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, that was Karen. She was the decoy. Get Susan to the school, so you can go in and check things out. What were you looking for?”

“You got a devious mind, ya know?”

“Yes. Too much time spent among people like you. What were you looking for?”

“Words.”

“The journal.”

He tapped his finger to his nose. Now that she’d caught on, he gave her more to work with.

“The missus she said she got in touch with Doc a few weeks back. Thought her questions might trigger his imagination. But the pages were already gone. Someone beat me to it.”

Donovan, you sly dog. You did tear them out yourself. So where did you hide them? You knew you were in trouble.The note—“Do the Right Thing”—was… She stared across at Taranto. Manipulative little shit.

“Hey. You sent that note to Doc and Jackal, didn’t you? Trying to get them to give you information for your story. That’s low, man.”

“I… Yeah, I did. So what? They needed a push.”

“You pushed them, all right. Right into a grave. They’re dead because you pushed them so hard.”

Taranto had the good sense to look abashed. “That was never my intention. Those fuckers—’scuse my language—are the ones who did it. They’re to blame, not me. I’m just trying to figure out what in the world went down then that’s worth dying for now. And why the situation wasn’t mopped up over there, before they took it home.”

Sam wanted to know the answer to that, too. “Your actions, Mr. Taranto, are unforgivable. What do you expect me to do now?”

“You don’t take instruction well, so just keep them all occupied. You can tap dance, right?”

“Not for very long. As soon as we’re done here, I’m heading to see Mutant. I hope.”

“Good. Take this.” Taranto slid a folder under the table. She felt it knocking at her knees, took it in her hand. “Be careful with it. I’m callingyoumy insurance, now. They come for me, I tell them someone else has the info. They come for you, well, try not to give me up, okay?”

Sam nodded. She was dying to see what the folder contained.

“You go first. I’ll see you around, Scotch.”

She slid out of the booth and headed toward the door without a backward glance. She finally felt useful. She had earned a nickname, after all.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

McLean, Virginia