Part 76 (1/2)
They were seated and a thirty-something who looked like they'd made poor life decisions came to ask what they wanted to drink. Water, they both answered. A minute later, breadsticks came with the drinks. Erin picked one up and slowly started making her way through the basket.
”How are you liking Los Angeles?”
”Oh, you know. It's a big city. They're all pretty similar, when all you have to go on is a field office and a hotel.”
”I suppose that's probably true, when you get to enough of them. I wouldn't know.”
”Then you should have recommended someplace.”
”Nah,” she said, waving the suggestion away with the half-eaten breadstick in her hand. ”Where's the fun in that?”
”So you're doing all this for my benefit, then?”
”Of course!” She smiled. ”I care for your education, Roy. Think of this as a pre-test. Then, over the next few days, you learn about the city, and we see whether or not you're as knowledgeable as the locals on the spots.”
”I don't think that I'm going to learn that much in only a few days.”
”That's because you didn't have someone tutoring you all those other times.”
”And you're planning on being my... what, tutor? In food-related matters?”
”Well, that and detective-work, of course. But I think we should start with where you're closest to success.”
Roy's lips pinched together in annoyance that might have been feigned. ”You're right. I'm sorry. I should've known better.”
”That's the spirit. Grovel just a bit.”
”Groveling isn't my thing,” he said. His voice was mild, but his expression had changed, just a little bit. As if he wanted to show her that he was a little bit dangerous. Compared to Craig, Roy Schafer was a kitten, and she wasn't sure that she minded it one bit.
She'd already gotten herself into a spot that she shouldn't have gotten herself into. Now that she was hip-deep in trouble, the suggestion to leave it alone, to go home and watch a pack of hyenas pretending to be people rip apart another woman on the basis of female sisterhood.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Erin wanted to tell Roy what she'd done. Wanted to get some feedback on what she was supposed to do next. It was a dangerous game that she was playing, and explaining how she got the information she was hoping to get, when it was finally time to cash out, would be hard. It would make it that much less awkward if she were able to get him in on the game plan now, before the trouble had come up.
Would it make the evidence that they got inadmissible? She wasn't sure. But that wasn't what she was concerned about right now. Undercover agents worked on cases like this all the time. All she was doing was working undercover.
But undercover cops had someone pulling their strings, someone who could pull them out of the situation if things got too dangerous, and here she was, walking the tight-rope without a safety net.
”Roy, I need to tell you something, and I need this to stay between us.”
”Okay,” he said, sitting back and looking for the waitress who hadn't taken their order yet. ”I can promise that. Probably.”
”Well, probably will have to be good enough.” She let out a breath. ”I may have made contact with Hutchinson.”
”I a.s.sumed you would,” he said, rubbing his nose. ”What have you got?”
”Nothing yet. The guy's scary, though. I wouldn't put it past him. He admitted to knowing my sister, though he says he hasn't heard from her since she left Minnesota.”
”Okay. We can work with that. What's the cover?”
”I'd-” Erin let out a breath and tried to still her heart beating. ”I'd rather not say.”
”That's fine. I'm not your dad. But stay safe, and the minute that there's trouble, you call me, alright?”
”Okay,” she said, making a mental note to save his number again. She might not forget this time.
”I'll text you to check in once a day. If I don't hear from you within an hour or two, we bring the hammer down. Fair?”
”Fair enough,” she said. The waitress was coming up, finally, her wide hips swis.h.i.+ng as she walked with a hurry that suggested that she just realized how long they'd been sitting there, the breadstick basket still empty.
”Oh, look at that,” the waitress murmured. ”You're out of breadsticks. Well, I'll get you some more of those, but could I take your order while I'm at it?”
Erin let out a breath. Not the best Italian place she'd been. But it was a learning experience, just like it was going to be digging into the muck that was Craig Hutchinson.
Eighteen.
Waking up late had always come hard for her. But when Erin avoided sleep long enough, it was an unhappy necessity that she had to deal with in spite of her best intentions to sleep as little as necessary and never past the sunrise.
She opened her eyes slowly, and closed them again. The sun had somehow found a way through the blinds that managed to fall square across her eyes, and after a night's rest it was blindingly bright.
She rolled away from it and pushed herself out of bed, still letting her eyes stay shut a minute. She knew the layout well enough not to worry about it. She reached for where her phone should be, but she must have knocked it to the floor. Erin opened her eyes just enough to reach down and grab it.
As she'd hoped a message. As usual, though, nothing to be sure who it was from. She cursed herself again that she'd forgotten to put Roy's number back in. It would be as easy, even now, as going back to the call log and adding the most recent call. Unless she'd gotten one after midnight last night, which she doubted, and even then, the log had timestamps.
Doing anything today?
She thought forward. No, nothing. Unless she wanted to schedule some last-minute piano lessons. She'd always wanted to learn, never put in the least bit of effort. Maybe today would be the day. Maybe it wouldn't.
She punched in that she didn't have any plans at all and dropped the phone on the bed, where it lay as she went off to get dressed.
She was just pulling on a pair of slacks as her phone buzzed. That would be Craig, she knew. Roy didn't seem to prefer to text, but more than that, he wasn't quick about answering them when he did send any.
She picked the phone back up and turned it over to read the message.
I'll be there in 5, be ready to go.
She shrugged. Alright. That was enough time, if she needed to be out the door. She reached down to pull on socks and then slipped her feet into a comfortable pair of flats.
The knock came at the door after 3 minutes. She opened it halfway without undoing the chain, already knowing what she'd find.
”You ready to go?”
”You said five minutes.”
”I lied,” Craig answered, letting the tiniest hint of a smile cross his otherwise surly face.