Dead Wrong
Page 22
Samuels handed her a business card. “Whenever you change your address, please call me. You’re a witness in this case. Eventually you’ll need to testify in a federal court. You’ll receive a subpoena when that time comes.”
“A case against Benito Ortega?”
“And possibly against Albert Getz, the man you call the ‘guy in the tweed jacket.’ ”
“He worked for Ortega, right?”
“We have reason to believe Mr. Getz is a hit man, Mrs. Foster.”
Startled, Lynnette gasped. She couldn’t think of anything to say.
Samuels placed Lynnette’s laptop case on the table. “We’re keeping the checks and the cash, of course.” He leveled a stern gaze at her and added, “Keep an eye on your possessions when you travel. You’re lucky you didn’t have your identity and your savings stolen while your papers were in the possession of Sammy Grick or Albert Getz.”
Lynnette caught her breath but didn’t say anything. As events spiraled out of control before the weekend, she’d forgotten about her investments and bank accounts. She hadn’t contacted the banks or changed her passwords. Now she was anxious to get away from the FBI building and find a motel with an Internet connection.
As soon as she checked in to her motel room, she logged on to her accounts, checked the balances, and changed her passwords. With a sigh of relief, she acknowledged her close call. The fat man had died, so he’d never be a threat again. But the guy in the tweed coat had been in possession of her case and her important papers for several hours.
She drove to a nearby restaurant where she enjoyed her first leisurely dinner in nearly five days. Then she returned to her room and worked her way through her email. She’d received one more email from Dave, this one pleading with her to return to Indianapolis and promising to take care of her. Lynnette deleted it without answering.
The most recent note from Ramona said she was on her way to Florida to help Lynnette sort out her troubles.
Lynnette glanced at her watch, saw that Ramona’s red-eye flight had taken off more than an hour ago, and smiled. It was too late to stop her, and that was fine. Lynnette needed all the moral support she could get.
Running away was no longer an option.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Patricia Stoltey grew up on a farm in central Illinois and has also lived in Oklahoma, Indiana, the south of France, and Florida. A retired accounts payable and inventory control manager, she currently resides in northern Colorado with her husband and precious Katie Cat. Her blog (http://patriciastoltey.blogspot.com) explores the writing life and regularly features guest authors from a variety of genres. Patricia is also the author of the Sylvia and Willie mystery series, including The Prairie Grass Murders and The Desert Hedge Murders. Dead Wrong is her first standalone novel. She is a member of Northern Colorado Writers, Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, Sisters in Crime, and Mystery Writers of America.