Page 61 of The Night Of

Sometime between when Felicity Baker left at 11:41 p.m. and the gunshot at 12:06 a.m., someone had managed to enter Aspen and subdue President Baker. Overpower him. Murder him.

Who pulled the trigger? Who looked Baker in the eyes and fired that shot?

How did they get out of there so fast, leaving no trace of themselves behind?

And, most importantly, why?

It always came down to the why. Sex, money, information. Rage. Passion. Regret.

Why plus how equaled who.

I was no closer to the why or the how, and the clock was ticking.

* * *

On the drive back,I made two calls. The first was to Jonathan, checking in. I had to hear his voice. I had to know he was okay.

He answered on the first ring. He had his professional voice on, that thick, deep growl, and I knew he wasn’t alone. “Just calling to say hi and let you know I’m on the way back.”

“Good,” he grunted.

“Everything okay there?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

Finally, I heard a tiny smile in his voice. “Yes. I’m sure. Did everything go well with you?”

“I think so. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Next, I called Nguyen. I’d debated, arguing with myself for the first thirty minutes of the drive, going back and forth on whether I wanted to reach out to him or not. Three calls, three people on the move. Nguyen was inside the circle. He could have made the calls. He could have received one of them.

I didn’t know that the man at the pool deck was Andrew Rees. I suspected, but I didn’t know. I couldn’t know, not from that distance.

But there were things I needed, and only Nguyen had the answers.

He didn’t pick up as quickly as Jonathan had. He wasn’t looking forward to my calls, apparently. Bastard.

“What do you want?”

“Nice to talk to you, too. Are you sleeping at all?”

“Did you ever sleep in this job?”

Only to dream about Jonathan. “Hey, I have a question for you.”

“Of course you do. I don’t have anything else to do right now except answer your questions, Avery. So go ahead, shoot. Hell, ask me a hundred questions. I live to serve.”

“Cut the attitude, asshole. I’m calling about Carter and Wilcox. Have they turned up yet?”

Nguyen sounded appropriately chastised when he said, “No. They haven’t.” He hesitated. “Sorry, Sean. I didn’t think you were calling about them.”

“Yeah, clearly. Asshole.”

“I sent some guys over to their apartments. Nothing. No sign of them. I don’t know if they just decided to quit, or if they went and jumped off a bridge.” He sighed. “Why did it have to be those two?”