Joe Victim: A Thriller

“I know,” he says.

“And something is going to happen,” she says. “We had a time all set for tomorrow morning. Then the defense lawyer rings the prosecutor back and says that time wasn’t going to work. Says Joe is busy for the day with trial stuff. Says he can’t make it till four o’clock.”

“Shit,” Schroder says.

“See? It’s looking like Joe has a plan.”

“It’s not a trap,” he says. “It can’t be. Joe hasn’t had time to make one.”

“He’s made two phone calls tonight—both to his mother, both after his lawyer spoke to him.”

“Trust me, Joe wouldn’t be using his mother to help him in any way. Whatever he planned with her would go the exact opposite way.”

“There are going to be four of us and one of him,” she says. “That’s good odds if anybody is out there trying to free Joe. And that same somebody may be the reason two bodies were put into the morgue yesterday and we’re dealing with missing explosives.”

“I’m sorry,” Schroder says.

“If it’s a trap,” she says, “then at least we’re ready for it. And if we’re dealing with Melissa, hopefully we’ll be drawing her out into the open. Our people are trained for this,” she says. “That’s what the prosecution said. But we’re not trained to be blown up,” she says. “For all we know he’s leading us right into a bomb.”

Schroder closes his eyes and pinches the top of his nose. In the darkness he can see gunfire and explosions. He can see blood. Chuck would be pleased. It would look just how people imagined it would look. Very cinematic.

“Can I come with you?” he asks.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Carl.”

“Please, Rebecca. I’d like to be there.”

“If things go wrong you’d only get in the way, and honestly, Carl, I wish I could bring you along so if it is a trap that you’ve helped engineer, maybe we can use you as a shield. You fucked up working for Jonas Jones.”

“I work for a TV station,” he says. “Not Jones.”

“Is that what you tell yourself? And the worst part is, once we find Calhoun, we have to leave him there for that slimy boss of yours to put on a show and make money. It gives bullshit hope to people out there who believe in these bullshit salesmen,” she says. “You’re giving a very large slimeball a lot of credibility here.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“So you keep saying. Good-bye, Carl.”

“Wait,” he says, and he’s surprised a few seconds later to find she hasn’t hung up. “Since you already hate me, there’s something else.”

“Oh, this ought to be good,” she says, and she sounds the way he used to sound whenever Tate would call him. “You’re not going to ask me for a favor, are you?”

“Look, I went and saw Raphael again today.”

He can imagine her shaking her head. “Jesus, Carl? Why?”

“To show him a photograph of Melissa,” he says, and he crouches down and leans against the wall.

“And?”

“And he’s hiding something. I don’t know what, exactly, but there’s something off with him.”

“Off?”

Schroder nods, then shrugs. “Off,” he says. “I’m telling you, something isn’t quite right with him.”

“Something isn’t quite right with him,” she says.

“And you’re repeating everything I’m saying,” he says.

“Not repeating,” she says, “but absorbing. Want to be a little more specific, Carl?”

“I got the feeling he recognized Melissa.”

“Of course he would. Her photograph has been in the paper plenty of times.”

“No. I don’t mean that. I think he knew her from elsewhere.”

“You think? Is that all you have?”

He pushes off from the wall and gets back to his feet. “He could know her from group. He could be lying to us.”

“And why would he lie to us?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and no matter what angle he looks at it from, he can’t come up with a reason. “I just don’t think it would hurt to follow him.”

“Yeah? You really think we have the man power to follow everybody who has ever given you a bad feeling?”

“I can follow him.”

“Don’t do that. You’ve got no reason to, other than a bad feeling. How many people in a day give you a bad feeling, huh? Ten? Twenty? Right now you’re giving me a bad feeling. Does that mean I should follow you? Listen, I gotta go. I’ll be in touch tomorrow once we’ve found Calhoun.”

Before he can say anything else, she hangs up. He tucks the phone into his pocket and goes and finds Jonas Jones to update him on the deal.





Chapter Thirty-Six


“How’d you get that?” my psychiatrist asks, looking at my black eye.

I reach up and wince, unsure why in the hell I just put my finger against it. “I slipped and fell,” I tell her.

“Who did that to you?”

“This is supposed to be an honest relationship,” I tell her. “I want to be truthful with you, but I can’t tell you who did this because it will only get worse if I do.”