Page 8

D ougie Cavanagh.

Kurt had known this young woman was connected to his search for Hurek, but he hadn’t known how. He still didn’t, but two people had mentioned this previously unknown individual within the last twenty-four hours. One of those people was dead.

“Oh, shit. Up ahead.” Rowena’s voice was strained. “Police roadblock.”

He looked up. Her swearing took him by surprise. She seemed too prim and proper to curse but, if she was to be believed, she’d had quite the day.

Sure enough, three blue uniformed police officers ambled across the tarmac in the increasingly oppressive heat. Dark clouds boiled overhead. A storm was coming.

“Relax. Take a deep breath,” Kurt told her.

“If they stop us, show them your license but hold on to it. Don’t let them take it away.

My name is Joe Hanssen. Pretend I’m your boyfriend which is a stretch but do your best. We’re heading to Nyanga on vacation.

I’m an insurance salesman from Montana, which works if you accidentally slip up on the name.

We have a long-distance relationship and have been dating for almost a year but don’t see each other much.

You were visiting family in Harare—keep to the truth for now, I doubt anyone is looking for you—yet.

I joined you after a safari in Zambia with some of my buddies. ”

“That’s all off the top of your head?”

“Not exactly. It’s part of a backup plan for worst-case scenarios. My identity is fully backstopped.”

“So’s mine, Joe . So’s mine.” Her expression was pissed, which beat scared. “Insurance salesman?”

“Proof someone at the FBI hates me.”

A laugh burst out of her and had him smiling despite himself.

She slowed and began winding the window down as the policeman held up his hand.

Then the heavens opened, and rain burst from the sky in a sheet of water.

The policeman changed his mind and waved them through as he and his fellow officers scurried to their vehicle at the side of the road.

“Well, that was fortuitous.” She pulled a face at him and drove carefully past the barriers.

She was shaking, he realized.

“You cold?” It was in the nineties outside, so he doubted it.

She put on the wipers. Shook her head. Her hair under her green canvas hat was falling out of its haphazard bun and curling against the side of her neck.

“Belated reaction to finding a man murdered and the reality hitting home about the very real possibility I’m going to be arrested for the crime—not to mention never finding out the truth about my father. ”

Her teeth were chattering, and her skin had lost all its color.

He checked the mirror. They were out of visual range of the checkpoint. “Pull over.”

She shot him a look of surprise but did as he said, carefully indicating despite the complete absence of any cars behind them.

Rule follower.

He got out, hunching against the downpour that soaked him in seconds as he ran around the hood. Opened the door. “Jump across.”

She pushed back the seat and clambered over the console .

He climbed behind the wheel and slicked back his short, wet hair, pulled the shirt from his now soaked skin. At least the rain cooled him down. He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the highway. “Are those the same clothes and shoes you wore at the crime scene?”

Rowena nodded. “Yes.”

“You have any other shoes with you?”

“Er, no, just these trainers. Why? Is there a dress code for being on the run?” Despite her attempt at humor, her mossy-green eyes looked anxious.

She should be.

“We need to get rid of anything that might link you to the murder scene and then sanitize this vehicle.”

“You mean like blood?” She shuddered and looked at her shoes.

“I don’t think I stood in any. I don’t have anything else with me.

I left all my belongings at Uncle Gamba’s house.

I packed everything up in case I decided to jump on a flight after talking to Anders, but I didn’t bring it with me.

I never expected…” Her voice trailed off.

“You have your wallet and passport?”

“Yes.” She indicated her purse in the back seat. “I always travel with them.”

He reached over and grabbed the bag off the back seat and placed it on his lap. “You mind if I go through this?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

Kurt gave her a humorless smile. “Not really.”

“You still think I might be involved in something nefarious.”

“Nefarious is my raison d’etre .”

Her brows rose. “You sure you want to do that while driving?”

“Anything sharp inside?”

Her eyes bugged. “Like what? The murder weapon? Or syringes from my heroin addiction?”

“I’m simply asking. I don’t want to get stabbed with your knitting needles.”

“Tempting, but just so happens I left my knitting needles at home.” She crossed her arms and stared pointedly out the side window. “There’s nothing I can think of that’s going to harm your delicate hands as you invade my privacy, Supervisory Special Agent Montana. Have at it. Enjoy your snooping.”

Uh oh . He’d pissed her off. Too bad he couldn’t afford to care.

He rifled carefully through her stuff keeping one eye on the road.

A notebook with a couple of envelopes tucked into the pages, pens.

An ereader. Hair bands. Packet of tissues.

Tampons. A hairbrush. Lipstick. A British passport in the name of Rowena Smith. A purple wallet.

“Satisfied?”

“If I don’t check and you have the murder weapon tucked away somewhere in the vehicle or on your person, I’m gonna look like a prize ass and end my FBI career as a laughingstock for being taken in by a pretty face.

Considering I’m putting my career in jeopardy to help you, you could be a little more grateful. ”

She jerked the bag from his fingers and placed it carefully on the back seat behind her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. If someone approached me this way, I’d have already called the cops.”

“I am the cops.”

She made a sound that might have been a strangled laugh.

“I guess you are, though officially you have no authority here or over me. However, you can search the vehicle when we stop. I didn’t see a knife in Anders’ office, so the killer must have taken it with him.

” She turned to stare at him. “Why are you helping me? Why not just call in the locals and catch your flight home?”

Kurt grunted. Because his instinct was telling him she was innocent?

That a killer calling an FBI agent for help would suggest a degree of sophistication and cunning—or plain stupidity—that Rowena Smith did not seem to possess?

Or was it that unwanted sliver of attraction making him make poor decisions?

Regardless, he believed she had information he needed that might somehow, inadvertently lead him to Hurek.

He wasn’t sure how the bosses would view his interference, but if she were locked up in a Zim prison or dead, they’d never find out if his hunch was correct. They had precious little else to go on.

“I’m honestly not sure why I’m here so don’t make me regret it.”

She looked surprised by his admission. “So what’s the plan? I mean I understand the authorities need to question me, but I’d rather be in the UK when they do. Can you help me get home, and then I can talk to the police?”

He wasn’t sure coming forward would be a smart move. “What can you tell them if they interview you?”

“I can give them the license plate of the vehicle that rolled in and out prior to the murder.”

That was useful information. “Maybe whoever was in the SUV has the same excuse as you do.”

She hunched her shoulders and rubbed her hands together. She wore an expensive man’s dive watch on her left wrist. “Perhaps, but Anders was still warm when I checked for a pulse. He hadn’t been dead long, and they were there for at least half an hour.”

A wave of sadness washed over him for his old friend. That he’d died in such a violent manner. They hadn’t been close lately, but they’d shared some good times over the years. Some fond memories.

Why had Bjorn been so reluctant to talk to him about this Dougie Cavanagh guy who he obviously knew more about than he’d let on considering Rowena said she had a photograph of them together?

Maybe he’d been afraid whatever he knew might get him killed…

Kurt pulled out his work cell and opened a text message for Krychek who had full security clearance for this mission.

“Type in the license plate there and press send. He’ll know what to do with the info.

Maybe the FBI can figure out who it belongs to.

We can see who they’re working for before you get involved in the murder investigation. Did you see any faces? ”

“Nope. Nothing. Tinted windows and I kept my head down when they drove past. And there was no one else inside the building as far as I could tell.”

The black SUV sounded suspiciously like some government entity.

The bigger question was whether or not they were sanctioned by the people in charge of the country or someone else with power and money.

If they were sanctioned, he and Rowena might be in serious trouble until they could reach safety.

They needed to avoid getting caught. He didn’t think it would be an issue.

No one would miss him for a day as they thought he was on board a flight home.

“We need to pick up a few supplies. What’s the next big town?”

She checked the map on his cell. “Marondera isn’t far away.”

Kurt flicked on the radio to see if the murder had hit the news yet. Instead, it was some piece about a billionaire named Nolan Gilder who was visiting the country and pledging to build a new computer manufacturing factory in the capital.

“Wanker,” Rowena muttered.

“You don’t like him?”

“Have you heard his views on women in general? He’s a misogynistic pig.”