“But you want revenge?” Another carefully phrased question.
Hell, yes. “No, ma’am. I want justice.” Which was also true. “I want freedom for the others that are still being held against their will. I don’t want other children to be forced to grow up the way we did.”
Molina looked away, studying the view out the window. On a clear day, one could see the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. Today wasn’t going to be a clear day. Clouds had already gathered. His boss watched them float by, her arms still crossed, tapping one bluntly manicured fingertip on her upper arm.
Finally she turned back to Gideon. “This is what will happen. I am officially reopening the investigation. I will have one of my agents do a search of area pawnshops to determine whether the locket was sold by anyone or if a man matching Miss Dawson’s description purchased it. In the meantime, you have one week to investigate this lead to the Eden cult. If you find anything—like a place to look for this community—you will bring it to me immediately and we will staff appropriately. Regardless, at the end of one week, you’ll report back to me and tell me everything that you’ve found, even if you don’t believe it’s relevant.”
He could barely believe his ears. She was giving him everything he’d asked for. “Yes, ma’am. And if I’m not finished by then?”
“Let’s decide that after one week. I understand your personal mission, but it’s easy for a person—let’s face it, a person like us—to get swallowed up in the quest. You might not be the best person to be searching. You could be so close that you miss something critical. Also, you could easily become obsessed with finding your great white whale. That you’ve been searching for seventeen years shows me that you won’t give up. But do this intelligently.”
“That makes sense,” he allowed.
Her lips twitched. “I’m glad you think so. Just so that we’re clear: If at any time you locate this community, you will inform me. If you locate any specific threat to a specific person or persons, you will inform me. We will investigate and resolve the situation.”
Um . . . no. But he simply nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “I’m serious, Gideon.”
She had to be serious. She’d never called him Gideon before. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head slightly, as if she didn’t believe his promise. “What will you do with your ongoing cases? Where are you on the Chang surveillance tapes?”
“I’ve translated everything that’s come in so far and e-mailed it to you. Nothing of note on the drug trafficking case, but there was some vague conversation about a credit card scam they’re starting. Jim Burns has been working with me. He can be brought up to speed quickly. If any new chatter comes in, call me and I can work on it from wherever I am. I’m not going far. I can be reached on my cell in an emergency.” Unless he was in the mountains where cell signals were spotty at best.
Molina stood up, extending her hand over her desk again. “Take care, Gideon. I hope you find what you’re looking for. If I have to tell anyone what you’re doing, I’ll keep your sister out of it.”
Gideon shook her hand firmly. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”
She gestured at the door with a tilt of her head. “Go. Your week’s officially begun.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 8:25 A.M.
He’d gotten some sleep, but not nearly enough, he thought, stifling a yawn. He’d left too late this morning. When he left on time, he managed to miss rush hour.
If he didn’t get there soon, he’d be late for his shift and shit would hit the fan for sure. The old man would like that, he thought bitterly. He’s just looking for any excuse to fire my ass early. Resisting the urge to lean on his horn, he turned on the radio.
He hated morning radio. Everyone was chirpy. Or trying for witty or sarcastic and missing both. He wished they’d just shut the fuck up and play the damn music.
He’d once had SiriusXM but let the subscription run out. He wasn’t in his car often enough for it to be worth the money for satellite radio. So he was stuck with Sacramento’s finest. TNT and Boomer. He rolled his eyes, hating both of them as he braced himself for inanity.
“And that was Jeff Buckley’s ‘Hallelujah,’” a woman’s voice said, making him blink. “I love that song,” she added wistfully.
She wasn’t one of the cranky old guys. She sounded young. Husky. Sexy.
“You’re not gonna cry, are you, Poppy?” a male asked sarcastically. That was TNT.
Shut up! he thought. Let the woman talk. He liked the sound of her voice. Soothing and smooth. He could listen to her talk all day.
“Not right this second, Tad,” she answered sweetly, “but if I do, I’ll ask for your handkerchief to blow my nose. Of course I’d wash it for you afterward. Maybe even iron it. My mama taught me manners.”
He snorted, turning the radio up a little bit. Good for you, Poppy. Set him straight. Because TNT was usually a dick. She’d dressed him down but hadn’t been rude. That was a disappearing art form.
“I do cry over some things,” she went on. “Like the animals waiting to be adopted at the shelter. We’re having an adoption day at Barx and Bonz in East Sac on Saturday. Come on down. You can meet me and Brutus. Right, Brutus?”
A yip followed and he frowned, thinking of that annoying dog from the night before.
“You tell ’em, Brutus,” she said in that baby voice people used for dogs. That he might even have used on Mutt. Once. Or maybe twice. “Come check it out and you might meet your new best friend. Adoption day is sponsored by KZAU and Barx and Bonz, where you can find everything your pet needs.”
And then she was gone, the feed going into a commercial about the pet store.
He instantly wished she’d come back. But she didn’t. TNT had taken over and he was yakking over the music. Which I detest. He snapped the radio off, relieved because he was finally at his exit. Speeding the rest of the way, he rolled into a parking place and ran into the small building that housed their offices.
“You’re late,” Hank said. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t hate Hank, but the man was both clueless and irritatingly optimistic. “Traffic was a bear, that’s all. Any coffee left?”
“I just made a pot. Customers called to say they’re running a little late, too, so you can breathe before they get here.”
“That’s good.” He poured a cup of coffee and turned back to find Hank watching him with pity in his eyes.
“You sure you’re okay? Yesterday was a huge shock. I’m still . . . reeling,” Hank confessed. “And wondering what the hell I’m going to do. My wife’s pregnant again. I don’t know how long our savings are gonna last. But it’s gotta be hard for you, too. I know you expected to be—”
“I’m fine,” he ground out before Hank could say that he had expected him to take over the company. “Worry about yourself. You’ve got a family. I’ll be fine.”
Hank nodded, not bothering to hide the hurt in his eyes at his harsh tone. “Fine.”
Wonderful. Yelling at Hank was like kicking a puppy. “Look, man. I’m sorry. I’m tired and cranky. I hope you find something soon. That’s all I meant.”
“Thank you,” Hank said quietly. “I’ve gone over the checklist. You can audit me.”
Which was the way they usually did it and the way he preferred. That way he could add in a few odds and ends to their gear after Hank was done and nobody would be the wiser. Made transporting his basement guests so much easier.
“Also . . .” He pointed to the bathroom. “Random test day. You have to pee in the cup.”
“Wonderful,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back in a few.” It was good that he hadn’t gotten high last night. That shit stayed with you for a long time.
That the random pee-in-a-cup test happened today was no accident. The old man was looking to fire his long-term employees. That way he didn’t have to pay severance packages.
I’m going to stay here as long as possible, he decided. Just to make the old man squirm. Make him fire me. I dare him.
But even as he mentally spat the words, he knew they were more cavalier than he felt. Without his paycheck, he’d lose his house. And his basement.
He’d do anything to make sure that did not happen, and he wasn’t completely without resources. He knew a few secrets that would stay the old man’s hand. Secrets the old man would do anything to keep from coming out. Just in case Sydney was lying about having an in with the new owners. He was covering all his bases and taking no chances.
No pink slips for me.
This was the benefit of sleep. He was thinking now. Not panicking. The best defense is a good offense. He peed in the cup, then washed his hands and checked the fit of his wig, which was, of course, just fine. It was his everyday wig and would stay on during a hurricane. Well, at least a Category 1. Good thing they didn’t live in a hurricane zone.