He shook his head. “How about a little privacy?”
“I have to meet with Sampson today. Do you want to go with me?”
He flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to wash his hands, but his eyes stayed on her, checking out her naked body from head to toe.
“No.”
“Peter, I have nothing to hide. Particularly at the moment.” She laughed at her own joke, enjoying the ease of having a conversation with him while butt naked. “I don’t mind if you want to come with me.”
After drying his hands, he grabbed her for a lip-crushing kiss. “It’s okay. Sampson and I will work it out. Having me there will only piss him off. If he makes a move on you though, tell him he’s too late.” Peter laughed. “He’ll love that.”
A little zip went up her arms. How high school. Was she seriously turned-on by his possessiveness? Peter Jessup, caveman-at-large. “Should I tell him about you coming to the compound?”
He nudged her out of the bathroom and smacked her on the ass. “Not unless you want him to blow a gasket. Tell him after I’m there. There’s nothing he can do about it then.”
Withholding information wouldn’t make Sampson happy, but Isabelle knew having Peter inside the compound would help. And the more help she received, the sooner they’d find out what happened to that missing girl. “Okay. I’ll do it your way.”
“Good,” he said. “Now get back in bed so I can screw you stupid. Again. My work is never done.”
Isabelle wandered into Maisie’s Family Restaurant a little after three o’clock that afternoon and spotted Wade Sampson sitting in a corner booth toward the back. She’d only ever seen him in a suit, but today he wore a crisp white pullover and no jacket. Trying to blend in. Good luck with that, GQ boy.
Maisie’s, on the other hand, resembled every other fifties-style diner and came complete with vinyl red booths along the walls and mini-jukeboxes on the tables. Ten or twelve worn veneer tables sat between the lunch counter and the booths.
Most of the tables were empty, but two elderly men seated at the counter gave her the once-over. She smiled at them and they both hooted.
To think she’d opted for a plain T-shirt and baggy shorts to avoid attention.
She slid into the booth across from Wade and he nodded. “Ms. DeRosa.”
“I thought we were doing away with the formalities.”
He grinned. “You are correct, Isabelle.”
“Thank you.”
A server dressed in a bright pink polyester dress with a plastic nametag that read Joy sidled up to the table. The capper had to be the matching lipstick and electric blue eye shadow. The place was a throwback, but the comforting sense of simplicity couldn’t be ignored.
“More coffee, handsome?” Joy asked Wade.
A slick smile stretched across his face. “You bet. Thank you.”
“No problem, hon.”
After Joy took their order, Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be trying to keep a low profile? I mean, flirting with the waitress?”
“I’m being nice.”
“Please.” She waved him off. “What do you need from me?”
He sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table. “Have you been to the compound today?”
“Just came from there. I’m all settled in.”
“Good. Anything you can tell me?”
She sucked in a breath and released it. “I tried to open my bedroom window. It’s sealed shut.”
Wade stayed silent.
“Plus,” she said, “all the bedrooms have double key locks on them. Not exactly comforting.”
“If they’re running a sex trade operation, they probably lock the girls in there with johns. Who has the keys?”
“Courtney told me Seth has them. No shock there because he seems like a control freak anyway. Oh, and I refuse to drink the tap water because it’s making the women pregnant.”
Wade screwed up his lips.
“Go ahead and laugh, but I’ve met at least four pregnant women there. Two live in the main house and two live in the cabins. And I’m not done meeting everyone yet. I’ll try and get to the others tomorrow.”
“What about Courtney?” he asked, reaching for the container of multicolored sweetener packets.
“She helped me move my things in. Her bedroom is on the other side of mine and we have a shared bathroom. She’s either incredibly neat or Seth does white-glove checks on all the rooms. He definitely has creepy tendencies.”
Wade stopped messing with the sweetener packets. “How so?”
“He’s always on the girls about minding their manners, yet he stares at my chest like he’s hypnotized.”
Of course, Wade’s gaze moved to her chest. Typical man. “Stop it.”
He laughed. “Sorry. Reflex.”
“Yeah, well, knock it off.”
Joy stepped up, refilled his mug, slapped an iced tea in front of Isabelle, turned on her squeaky sneakers and left. That Joy is a regular queen of efficiency.
After she watched Wade dump three packets of sugar in his coffee, Isabelle’s stomach rolled.
“You should get close to Courtney,” he said.
“Why?”
He cocked his head a second and clucked his tongue. Isabelle remembered him telling her he didn’t share much information because it could put his sources in danger.
“Yeah, I get it. You don’t want me blurting out something I shouldn’t know, but I want to fast-track this assignment. My job is in jeopardy, and I need to be back in two weeks. Just tell me what you’ve got. I’ll be sure to control all babbling.”
With a sip of his coffee, Sampson contemplated her, those dark eyes narrowing. He set the cup down. “She has an arrest record.”
Of all the things Isabelle expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. She slouched back in the booth, her bare legs sticking to the cheap vinyl. “For what?”
“Four months ago she stole a protein bar and bottled water from a convenience store.”
“She was pregnant four months ago.”
“Yes. She told the local P.D. her boyfriend took off and, since she’d been laid off from her job a month earlier, she had no money.”
“She was hungry.” A sudden anger flamed up her throat. “Trying to take care of herself, and her baby, and they arrested her?”
Wade held up his hands. “I know it sucks, but she broke the law.”
Deputy Do-Right. “They couldn’t let her slide on a three-dollar theft? She’s twenty years old. She was probably terrified.”
“Don’t bitch at me. I’m telling you what I know.”
She leaned forward again. “Sorry. What else?”
“She caught a judge who was a single mother. The judge gave her probation, but told her she needed counseling to figure out how to take care of herself and a baby.”
“I like that judge,” Isabelle said.
“Courtney went to a center called—” he pulled a notepad from beside him on the booth and checked his notes. “—Tomorrow’s Family Network. They sent her to the Organization for the Underprivileged.”
“Seth and Kendrick.”
“Yes. She’s been there ever since.”
“What about the baby’s father?”
Wade shrugged. “No idea. I don’t think he’s around though. The point is she’s been living there four months and knew Nicole Pratt. I questioned Courtney myself when Nicole disappeared. They were friends. Maybe you can get something from her.”
That made sense. “I see where you’re going with this. She told me she doesn’t have a car and occasionally needs a ride into town. Seth usually drives her, but she has to wait until it’s convenient for him. I told her I’d cart her around while I’m there. I’ll see if she wants to run to the store with me after dinner tonight. Maybe she’ll open up to me.”
“Don’t push too hard,” Wade said, sounding like Peter.
Yeesh. They didn’t give up.
Speaking of Peter…She sipped her tea to hydrat
e her suddenly parched throat. This should be interesting. “Can you get me land surveys of the property?”
His eyes fused to hers. “Why?”
Play dumb. She wouldn’t lie to him, but she wouldn’t give him anything extra either. “There’s a lot of property there.”
“And Jessup wants to see it?”
Jig’s up. No sense in denying it.
“Actually,” Isabelle said, “he’s already seen it.”
One of the men at the counter barked out a laugh and she looked over, relieved for the distraction while she waited for Wade to lecture her. She turned back and found him staring out the filmy window, his lips curled in.
“Knew it,” he said.
The best thing for her to do would be to stay silent. Very silent. Peter and Wade needed to exhaust this quest to pulverize each other. She got that. She just didn’t want to be in the middle of it.
Wade’s gaze met hers and the disappointment on his perfectly angular face could not be ignored. “Mr. Jessup didn’t follow my advice to stay out of my case?”
She grinned. “He can be stubborn. You’ll learn that.”
That got her a stony look. “No. I won’t. I’ll have another talk with him.”
Her cue to leave. She so did not want to be around for that. Isabelle wrapped one hand on the end of the table and boosted herself from the booth. “Well, best of luck to you. I need to get back. The drive is long and dinner is served promptly at five-thirty. I shan’t be late.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Peter sat at the banged-up imitation wood desk in the motel room doing an internet search for all things related to Kendrick’s foundation when “Born to Run” screamed from his phone. Wrong damn phone. He wanted it to be the prepaid one because Izzy should be calling to let him know her meeting with Sampson had ended. He’d spoken to her on the way to the meeting, and was none too pleased with the sealed windows and locks on the doors development. His rampaging blood pressure had, in fact, nearly driven him to psychosis.
He glanced at the phone sitting on the desk. Blocked number. Usually it was Vic calling from his cone of silence, but sometimes he got a surprise. “Jessup.”
“Wade Sampson.”
“That didn’t take long,” Peter said.
“Huh?”
Sampson was a little slow on the uptake. “For you to call me. I guess you just finished with Izzy.”
Did she mention you should keep your slick fucking hands off her?
“I thought I asked you to stay out of my case,” Sampson said.
“You did.” Enough said on that subject. “Can you get me the property surveys for that compound?”
Silence. Peter waited for Sampson to blow his stack. He spun the chair and motioned for Billy to lower the volume on the porn movie he’d rented. Porn, at this point, could create chaos because it meant Billy was bored, and when that happened, he got busy doing all sorts of shit he shouldn’t be doing.
What they should have been doing was helping Izzy figure out what happened to the pretty college student, but nothing was popping. Blanks everywhere. Instead he was listening to some woman moan about Carl the lizard man and his amazing tongue.
“You’re kidding, right?” Sampson finally said in his best you-are-nuttier-than-a-fruitcake voice.
“Nope. It’s a lot of property. I’d like a guide.”
Sampson laughed at that. At least he had a sense of humor.
“I’m not getting you those surveys. I can’t chance you screwing up evidence.”
“Oh, man,” Billy howled from behind him and Peter spun around again.
“Shut that thing off. I’m on the phone.”
Billy waved him away. Perfect. Peter shot him the bird and wondered where he put his gun. He might need it in the next thirty seconds.
“Hello?” Sampson said.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I’m just busy trying to keep my buddy from whacking off in front of me. “You should get me those surveys. There’s a lot of property.”
“A hundred acres,” Sampson replied.
Hey, at least the guy was talking. Maybe he needed to be convinced by way of a boot in the ass. “Lots of places to bury a body.”
“I know.”
Progress. Not only was Sampson talking, he was listening. “The faster you get probable cause, the faster you get a warrant to search the place. I’ll get you probable cause. You’ll have to turn your back for a while, but how bad do you want it?”
More silence. Yes, Agent Sampson. Keep thinking. You’ll get there.
Peter counted off in his head. Ten seconds tops and this guy would crumble.
“I’ll get you those surveys.”
Haza! Eight seconds. Not bad. A tough guy.
“I knew we could agree on this,” Peter said.
Sampson released a breath. “I’m on a limb here, Jessup.”
Peter could respect that. A man like Sampson didn’t play outside the rules. Particularly with a case of this magnitude. A congresswoman’s missing daughter could make or break his career, and Peter couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be the agent that screwed the pooch.
“My reasons for being involved are different than yours, Sampson, but we agree on what the results should be.”
“Just don’t fuck me.”
Sampson did a half sigh. Probably because he knew, deep down in that part of him that yearned for the greater good, he needed help. They weren’t so different after all.
“No problem,” Peter said. “You’re not my type anyway.”
Isabelle spotted the Dipsy-Do Ice Cream Shop as she drove along the rural route heading back to the compound. Trees and crops surrounded the road, but the Dipsy-Do, with its bright white paint and neon sign, stood smack in the middle of all that lush farmland.
After dinner, she and Courtney had taken a trip to the five-and-dime so Courtney could stock up on essentials. Seth, surprisingly, didn’t argue. He was probably relieved he didn’t have to take her. The Dipsy-Do would provide another opportunity to endear herself to Courtney.
“This place reminds me of one of those old drive-ins. How about we stop?”
Courtney shrugged. “Fine by me.”
This girl had a steel coat and cracking it could take a while. Maybe more time than Isabelle had.
“I love a good vanilla soft-serve,” she said.
“Whatever.”
All right. Maybe she should make Crabby Courtney pay for her own damned ice cream. Isabelle chuckled to herself. Crabby Courtney meet Creepy Izzy.
Five minutes later, they settled down on one of the wooden picnic tables to enjoy their ice cream cones as Isabelle’s mind went to work.
Having Courtney alone was an opportunity to cull information, but Isabelle would have to use caution. This girl was no fool and would see right through an influx of questions. Isabelle licked a drip off her cone, glanced at the setting sun and wished she were sharing this time with Peter.
Don’t think about him now. Concentrate on the task.
“This is a great place,” she said. “I’ll have to take a picture of it.”
Courtney’s gaze stayed focused on Isabelle’s as she licked her chocolate-vanilla twist. She took a second lick, but her measuring stare remained.
A gentle bubbling under Isabelle’s skin indicated a shift of energy between them, and she willed herself to remain still. Being a good lawyer meant understanding the rhythm of a situation, and speaking too soon might cause Courtney to retreat.
“I used to come here with my friend.”
Isabelle took another slow swipe of her cone. “It’s not far from the compound.”
“That’s why we liked it.”
Hmm. A lot of past tense going on here. “It doesn’t sound like you come here anymore.”
Courtney shook her head. “My friend moved out.”
Ba-da-bum, ba-da-bum, ba-da-bum. Isabelle’s heart pounded and she steadied herself against the pressure in her chest. Could they be talking about Nicole Pratt?
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What would a congresswoman’s daughter be doing living in a glorified homeless shelter?
Deep breath. Confirm the information. Act natural.
Isabelle bit into the cone and focused on the crunch rather than the near heart attack she was having. “That’s too bad. Were you roommates before you moved into the compound?”
Courtney popped the last of her cone into her mouth and wiped each finger with her napkin. “No. We were at Seth’s together. She moved in a few weeks after I did. You’re in her old room.”
Holy, holy cow. Stay calm. Breathe.
“Ow!” Courtney smacked at her arm. “Damn, bugs. They’ll swallow you whole.”
No kidding on that one. Isabelle had already used half a bottle of bug spray. “Do you need spray? I have some in my purse.”
“No. I’m afraid it’s bad for the baby.”
“We can go back if you’d like.”
Courtney shook her head. “I like being away from the house.”
Didn’t take a neurosurgeon to understand that. “Yeah, I needed some air, too.”
“I guess you’ve had it with the Queen Bee wishing you’d melt.”
Isabelle snorted a laugh. “You caught that, huh?”
“I’m knocked up, not blind. Don’t sweat it. She does it to any new woman that comes along.”
“Why?”
Courtney’s eyes shifted. She knows something.
Isabelle waited the near one hundred hours until Courtney shrugged. “She’s a nut.”
Not exactly case-breaking information. “Maybe we’ll just stay here until everyone goes to bed.”
Courtney rolled her eyes at the bad joke, but Isabelle wasn’t sure she was kidding. Spending the evening with Seth staring at the wonder boobs was not high on the to-do list.
And yes, she knew it was her own fault for playing up her assets, but if it got her enough information to find Nicole, she’d do it. In intervals.
“It’s nice that you get your own room at least,” she said.
A Just Deception Page 20
