Girl Three

by Tracy March

  “That’s what my contact told me.” He shone his flashlight around the lab, and she followed it with her gaze. The equipment looked familiar to her—IVF chambers, incubators, microscopes, centrifuges. “Stop.”

  He aimed the light at a small machine sitting on the counter—one that Jessie recognized. A computer was situated next to it.

  “That’s a MAPI system. It’s what we’re looking for.” She handed him his laptop, then hurried over and struck a key on the computer keyboard with her gloved finger. The screen lit up, casting a hazy glow in the lab. “Got that password?”

  He set his backpack on a stainless steel table, propped his computer on top of it, and went to work. “Give me a second. You said it’s called a MAPI system?” He scrolled down the page, squinted at the screen, then walked over and typed in a password.

  “That’s it,” she said, squeezing his forearm.

  He covered her hand with his and clutched tightly. “We’re going to make this work.” Slipping her hand from beneath his, she gave him a half smile and turned her attention to accessing the inventory system, thankful she was familiar with it even though she’d never guessed the knowledge would be useful.

  “Looks like he used a barcode system and names—up to ten characters, so some are cut off.” Awkwardly typing with her gloves on, she entered “Talmont” in the search box. “Come on. Be there.”

  She and Michael gazed at the screen. no matches found.

  “Too easy,” she said. “What else would he have filed the sample under?” She thought of all kinds of things, like spelling his name backward or using a random number that only Ian would have known. If he’d done something like that, then all hope was lost.

  “Hope,” she said, typing in the word.

  “Hope?”

  “As bizarre as it sounds, that was the name Sam gave to her extortion scheme. The Hope Campaign.”

  The computer returned the results. three matches found.

  “Hope-Kette, Hope-Olney, Hope-Talmo.” Her heart beat faster. “Hope-Talmo is the one we’re looking for,” she said. “Color-coded red, second tier.”

  Michael stood in front of the cryogenic freezer. Even in the hazy light, she could see the look of concern on his face. “What?”

  “The freezer has an alarm.”

  “No way. Is it activated?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you have the code?”

  “No.”

  “We need to open it. We are not coming this far and leaving with nothing.”

  Michael gazed at the controls on the freezer. “If we do this, we need to be prepared to haul ass out of here afterward. Even if we don’t hear an alarm, it could be silent and connected to a monitoring station. Imagine how fast the cops would get here, considering what just happened in this room. And after the suspicion you raised about yourself, this is no place you want to get caught.”

  “It’ll take them longer with the snow.”

  “Us too, once we’re outside.” He walked over to the table, closed his computer, and crammed it into his backpack. “How fast can you find the sample?”

  Jessie lifted one shoulder. “I’ve seen this brand of freezer before. Since we’ve got the code, I should be able to find it right away.”

  Michael’s brow furrowed. “As soon as you grab it, let’s head for the stairs. I’ll reset the building alarm and we’ll go out the back door. The exit is dark, since we killed the bulb. Then run like hell.”

  He slung his backpack onto his shoulders and joined Jessie by the freezer. “Here goes.” He pulled the door open.

  Nothing.

  “Assume it’s a silent alarm,” he said as she hurried through the motions of locating the right specimen straw. She pulled several red-topped ones from the goblet where she thought Talmont’s straw was stored. One of them was hope-olney. Two straws later, she had the hope-talmo one in her hand.

  “This is it.” She slammed the freezer. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The snow had fooled the forecasters and stopped at four inches, give or take. It made for a treacherous rush hour, but the city came to life in slow motion. Jessie had been in slow traffic, trying to get to Nina’s before she left for work. She searched for an unlikely parking spot near Nina’s place, but found only snow-covered cars that weren’t going anywhere soon. She circled the block, hoping she wouldn’t miss Nina. Still, she had no luck finding a spot.

  As she approached Nina’s, she caught a glimpse of her leaving her apartment, her lime-green hat on her head. Sophie bobbed on Nina’s hip, wearing a smaller, matching hat.

  “Aww,” Jessie said. Those two were so precious to her.

  She could tell by Nina’s gait that she was in a hurry. Jessie pulled her car parallel to the ones parked on the street and rolled down the window.

  “Nina,” she called. The snow muffled her voice, and Nina kept walking.

  Jessie accelerated, keeping her pace. She tapped on the horn. “Nina, wait.”

  Nina looked over, surprised and confused.

  Jessie put the car in park and switched on the hazard lights. She grabbed the package from the passenger seat and hurried out of the car.

  Nina watched with leery eyes, shaking her head. “What are you doing? Please tell me you didn’t come to say good-bye with your car idling in the street and me having to take Sophie to the sitter and get to work in twenty-five minutes.”

  Jessie smoothed her fingers over Sophie’s little pink mitten. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry I was so stubborn and unreasonable last night. Today you may think I’m even worse.”

  Nina frowned, narrow-eyed.

  “Please don’t judge me for this,” Jessie said. “God knows, I’ve already done enough of that for both of us. But this was my last chance—is my last chance. I need your help.” She handed Nina the lightweight thermal envelope.

  “What’s this?”

  Jessie opened her mouth but couldn’t say the words. What she and Michael had done last night would be worth it when Talmont was convicted, but right now she felt guilty and embarrassed standing in front of the friend who’d warned her to stop pursuing Sam’s murderer.

  Nina cocked her head, concern etching her face. “Jess?”

  A motorist blew his horn at Jessie’s car, then sped around it, slush spewing from beneath his tires.

  Jessie drew a sharp breath. “It’s a semen sample. From Senator Talmont.”

  A deep line creased between Nina’s eyebrows, then her mouth dropped open. “You. Did. Not. You said you could use his ego and his libido to your advantage, but I never thought you’d have sex with him to—”

  “I didn’t.” Jessie looked away from Nina. “But I needed his blood or his sperm and I knew a sure way to get one of those. So I invited him over, thinking I could seduce him and get a sample that way, but I couldn’t go through with it.”

  Nina’s stunned expression morphed into a grimace, and Jessie felt more embarrassed now that Nina knew.

  “Then where did this come from?” Nina tipped the envelope toward her.

  “Ian’s lab.”

  “Is this the semen from Sam’s extortion scheme?”

  Jessie stared at the snow piled around her boots. She nodded her head quickly to get it over with, then shifted her gaze back to Nina.

  “You broke in there?” Nina looked incredulous.

  Another nod.

  “Oh, Jess.” Nina shook her head. “How did you get in there without getting caught?”

  Another motorist blew his horn at Jessie’s car.

  “I think it’s better if you don’t know the details.” Jessie swallowed hard.

  “I understand that you want vengeance for Sam,” Nina said, a hollow depth in her eyes. She hugged Sophie closer. “But you need to think about yourself. I’m your best friend and I don’t even know you anymore.”

  Tears welled in Jessie’s eyes. “I understand.” She tipped her head toward the package in Nina’s hand. “But will you tes
t it for me?”

  Nina frowned, looking as though she was thinking about it. Jessie waited, her stomach twisting, knowing she deserved to suffer.

  Finally, Nina turned and walked away. After a distance she glanced over her shoulder at Jessie and yelled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Michael hadn’t been able to say no when Jessie needed him to save her from herself—and from Talmont. It was his job, after all. At least where Talmont was concerned. As for saving her from herself, no experience or degree had qualified him for that.

  But it hadn’t been his job to help her break into Ian’s practice. They might’ve gotten conclusive evidence that would pin Sam’s murder on the senator, but they’d obtained it during a B&E and it wouldn’t be admissible in court. His judgment had become skewed. The crimes he’d committed last night far eclipsed the ones he’d perpetrated under Croft’s contracts.

  He wasn’t thinking straight because of his feelings for Jessie. But she’d made it clear last night that it was all business between them—that the only desire they shared was to bring Sam’s murderer to justice.

  He waited in his Swann Street apartment, expecting the knock on his door precisely at noon.

  Croft had obliged.

  Michael stepped around the duffel bags, boxes, and a suitcase all heaped near the entrance. His life, concentrated into a pathetic pile. He opened the door.

  Croft stepped past him, wearing dress shoes despite the snow, and stopped short next to Michael’s stack of stuff. “What’s all this?”

  “My resignation.” He closed the door with a thud.

  Croft tucked his chin and shot Michael a speculative look, his brows lowered. “You said you needed coverage for today. You didn’t say you were giving up.”

  Michael had prepared for Croft to belittle, badger, and manipulate him, but he’d made up his mind. “I’m saying it now. My contract states that you should be notified, in person, of my intent to terminate. Call my backup, whoever that is, and tell him he’s got a job.”

  He walked into the living area, and Croft followed. Michael made a sweeping, nonchalant gesture toward the electronic equipment. “Everything’s still running to spec, so the new guy can just concentrate on Jessie—ca.” He pressed his lips together tightly, hoping he’d caught himself before Croft had noticed the familiar use of her name. Then he remembered that it no longer mattered what Croft noticed.

  The judge shoved his hands into the pockets of his expensive overcoat. He nodded and paused for effect. “I never expected this from you.”

  Michael tensed with resentment. “What did you expect?”

  “Dedication, honesty, loyalty—”

  “Based on what? A contract? A veiled threat that you’d blackball me in DC if I didn’t sign another contract with you? My father died, then Sam. You waltzed in and demanded that I get over it and get on with it, or move out of here immediately and risk my professional future. That’s a sure way to gain someone’s loyalty.”

  As for honesty, Michael couldn’t defend himself. He’d shielded Jessie from Croft by underreporting her activities and omitting information he’d reflexively divulged about Sam. At times, he’d flat-out lied. And he’d no doubt made a mockery of the refrain from developing a relationship clause in Croft’s contract. Defied it both ways.

  Physically, check.

  Emotionally, check.

  Croft stood silent, as if he were expecting more.

  So Michael gave it to him. “And I’ve been on this job twenty-four seven since the last time you walked out of here.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the door. “My dedication is not in question.”

  Croft reached out and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. It took all of his discipline not to flinch. He’d stand here and listen to the man’s bullshit. Then he’d be free of him, and of Jessie.

  Forever.

  “She got to you, didn’t she?” Croft sounded more commiserating than judgmental, blindsiding Michael.

  He fired through a split-second debate over whether to lie again or to tell the truth. An image of Jessie with Talmont flashed in his mind and he clenched his teeth. He gazed out the window, focusing on nothing.

  Then he shifted his eyes to meet Croft’s. “Yes. Congratulate yourself. You set it up that way. And made sure that I’d never have a chance.”

  The judge reacted with his emotionless courtroom expression. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder, then sat on the couch and tipped his head. “Have a seat, Michael. It’s time you and I got a few things straight.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Jessie had kept herself busy attending to the list she’d made—final things to get done before she could go home in not-so-good conscience. She’d taken some of Sam’s things to a charity and closed her last credit card account.

  Now she treated herself to a solemn and peaceful visit to the National Gallery of Art, where she’d attended Sam’s memorial.

  She stepped into the East Garden Court, an oasis now without all the people. The soaring glass ceiling and the massive marble columns contrasted with the delicate palm fronds and gilded cherub sculpture atop the trickling fountain. This was where she’d first met Talmont. She shivered, thinking of him brazenly grazing his fingers down her arm that night—right in front of his wife—foreshadowing circumstances that Jessie couldn’t have begun to imagine. She’d have to live with the things she’d done to prove he was a murderer. But all of it would be worth it when Nina called and told her that his blood type was a match.

  She sank into one of the cushioned chairs grouped around the perimeter of the room, and checked her watch: 1:45 p.m.

  Any time now, Nina. Please call.

  She remembered seeing Helena here, meeting Ian, Elizabeth, and Philippe.

  Calling Philippe was one of the last items on her list. Jessie hadn’t wanted to face him, knowing that Elizabeth had been cheating on him with Ian. She would’ve felt pressed to tell him, but knew she shouldn’t get involved. Now that Ian was dead, maybe their marital problems would resolve themselves. She wished happiness for them, and for Liam, whom she hoped to meet and get to know, as Elizabeth had offered. The child was all that Jessie had left of Sam.

  And that brought her back to one last thing she wanted from Philippe.

  She got up and walked out onto the promenade, pulled her phone from her purse, and called him.

  “Hello.” He managed to sound despondent with one word.

  “It’s Jessie.”

  “It was nice to see you at Helena’s…nice of you to come. I went to Quebec on business and came back to…” He cleared his throat but didn’t continue.

  “I’m sorry about Ian. It’s hard to lose a friend.” She knew she had nothing to gain by telling him just what kind of friend Ian had been, so she didn’t.

  “How could you be sorry about Ian after what he did to Sam?” Philippe’s accent couldn’t save his words from sounding bitter.

  Even Philippe seemed to believe that Ian’s death was a suicide, that what he’d claimed about him and Sam was true. But Jessie couldn’t argue with him until she got the news from Nina about Talmont.

  “Both of their deaths were senseless and tragic,” she said.

  He was quiet for a moment. “Rumor has it that you’re heading back home.”

  “Soon. But I’d like to see you before I go. The truth is, I need a favor. One last thing you can do to help me settle my commitment to Sam.”

  “Whatever you need.”

  She closed her eyes, hoping he meant what he’d said.

  “Jessie, what is it?”

  “You can give me the lockbox that you keep in your darkroom. And all of the pictures and SD cards associated with Sam and her extortion scheme.” She chewed on her thumbnail. “I want to destroy them.”

  After I use them as evidence in my case against Talmont.

  “Fair enough,” he said after a moment. “I’ll bring them to you tonight.”

  By six o’clock,
Jessie had heard nothing definitive from Nina. During a quick call around three, Nina had told her that she’d try to have some solid information by tonight, even if she had to stay late. Jessie knew better than to badger her for updates. When there was something to tell, she would call.

  Jessie paced the living room in Sam’s place, jittery with expectation and nerves. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket and made sure it was powered up and getting a signal. Seeing Philippe would be a welcome diversion from the wound-up waiting, the constant worrying and what-ifs.

  She slid the phone back in her pocket and peeked out of the blinds that covered one of the front windows, looking for Philippe. Moonlight reflected off the snow, lighting the night with an eerie blue-white hue. No one passed on the sidewalks or the street.

  Her phone clanged and vibrated, every alert mechanism activated. She yanked it from her pocket and glanced at the screen, expecting to see Nina’s name.

  But on the screen was a number she’d dialed just once, one she didn’t want to remember but might never forget.

  Talmont.

  Disgusted with herself for what she’d started, she let the call go to voice mail. But the new-message signal didn’t come. She closed her eyes and exhaled just as a wind-chime riff alerted her of a new text message from Talmont.

  She read the message, disgusted by its one loaded word.

  Tonight?

  The doorbell rang.

  She decided not to respond to Talmont, put the phone away, and walked over to the intercom. She stopped short before pressing the button.

  What if it was Talmont, not Philippe?

  She pushed the button with a shaky finger. “Philippe?”

  “Expecting someone else?”

  She’d never been more relieved to hear his voice.

  He came in looking dashing in a gray wool overcoat, his long hair windswept. But there were stress lines on his face that she hadn’t noticed before, and a tired pinch around his eyes. Worse than that, he was empty-handed, without the pictures of Sam.

  He kissed her cheek and narrowed his eyes. “You look a little pale.”