The Perfect Victim

Finally, the man in the Hermes tie spoke softly, deceptively, masking the rancor behind the words. "Who the fuck is Jack Talbot?" The name stuck in his throat like a shard of glass, and he washed it down with a gulp of Tanqueray.

 

Fagan remained impassive, sipping his scotch and water, unaffected. "A private investigator. Mostly divorce cases. Cheating spouse surveillance. A few runaway teens. He's strictly small time. Nothing to worry about."

 

"I see." He reached into the pocket of his St. Laurent for his bottle of Percodan. Just behind his eyes, the headache lurked, as if waiting for exactly the right moment to clench his brain in a vice grip.

 

"Our girl hooked up with him after she returned from Ohio," Fagan said.

 

''This private investigator has become a problem."

 

"Do you want him eliminated?"

 

"Of course I do," the man in the Hermes tie snapped.

 

Fagan looked amused for a moment. "I must say I'm quite taken with this young woman."

 

The other man tossed back two of the pills and downed them with a gulp of gin. "Did you take care of the lawyer?"

 

"No longer a problem."

 

Two down. Two to go. Relief washed over, him at the prospect of finishing this dreadful assignment. He only wished it wasn't so damned important—or the stakes so high. "When can you finish up?"

 

''That depends."

 

"Depends on what?"

 

''The private dick has a brother."

 

The man in the Hermes tie felt a swirl of panic at the thought of yet another person's involvement. Another loose end to deal with. Dammit, there were too many loose ends. The whole fucking mess was like a grass fire that had burned out of control and erupted into a forest fire. "Does he know anything?"

 

"Probably."

 

He cursed the man's calm demeanor, knowing the son of a bitch had nothing at stake but money. If life were only so simple. "Eliminate them. All of them. And I don't want any more questions raised."

 

The other man sipped his scotch. "I'll expect additional compensation."

 

"I anticipated that."

 

"Generously, I hope."

 

"You have three days."

 

*

 

 

 

The snow was coming down sideways when Randall clambered out of the ravine. It had started as an occasional flake halfway through the climb. Now, a rise of alarm slid through him at the sight of the thickening white blanket already covering the road.

 

Addison stood a few feet away, bent at the hip with her hands on her knees. Her breath puffed out in a white cloud with each exhalation. Her hair hung across her face in a brown, unruly mass. A small branch jutted out from behind her right ear like a crooked antenna.

 

"I knew there was a reason I never took up rock climbing," she panted.

 

"Stop complaining and I won't tell you I told you so." He still couldn't quite believe she'd followed him into the ravine without a thought as to her own safety. Talk about foolhardy. She could have dislocated her shoulder instead of merely bruising it.

 

But he had to admire her guts. She'd climbed back up the steep incline without so much as a single complaint. The problem was, it had taken them twice as long. Now they had the damn weather to contend with.

 

"Shit," he muttered, tramping through the driving snow toward the Jeep. "Let's get out of here."

 

Addison rushed up beside him, oblivious to the weather or the dangerous drive ahead. This is why I live in Colorado."

 

"You recovered quickly." A fact that made him wonder about his own physical conditioning. He was going to have to get back into shape when he got back to D.C.

 

"I love snow. Isn't it beautiful?"

 

She looked wholesome and lovely as she lifted her arms skyward. Watching her, Randall felt a sudden, acute longing for something he couldn't put a name to. It stirred deep inside him, like the anticipation of coming home after a long, lonely trip.

 

"Just don't ask me to help you build a snowman," he growled.

 

"Don't worry, Talbot, I wouldn't want to send you into a state of panic. God forbid, you might have some fun."

 

"I hate to rain on your parade, Ace, but in case you haven't noticed, the weather's not getting any better." He glanced up at the treetops where the snow rushed between the branches like a white-water rapid.

 

A snowball hit him squarely in the back.

 

Surprised, and a little annoyed, he turned. Addison stood next to the truck with a silly grin on her face.

 

The logical side of him knew they should get going before the roads got hazardous. But the competitive little boy lurking inside him couldn't resist the opportunity to teach her a lesson.

 

"Ah, hell," he murmured and scooped up a handful of snow.

 

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