“I heard the scuttlebutt when I checked in at the station this morning,” Kjel said. “Heard she’s out on her ass.”
Leo snorted. “’Bout fucking time. It’s given Grablowski the push he needed. Now he doesn’t have to worry about the MVPD not hiring him because he won’t be exposing a cop. She’s a disgraced ex-cop.”
“You have something to do with her being axed?”
“I wish.”
“So what was it?”
“No clue.”
Kjel regarded Leo steadily. “You do too have a clue.”
“Serious. I don’t.”
Grablowski said into his phone, voice clipped, “Fine. You have until midnight tonight to come on board. The official book offer came in Friday. I met with my agent yesterday. We sign Monday, with or without you. Also got an offer pending from DayLine TV. They do that cold case series. They’re interested in a podcast plus regular televised updates, interviews as the investigation unfolds. My publicist will hit media outlets with my book deal news Monday.”
Kjel heard Pallorino’s retort through the phone. “Break my story and I break your back, asshole.”
Kjel smiled. She had spunk, that girl.
Grablowski killed the call. He turned in his seat. His face looked hot. He removed his round glasses, polished them with a napkin, and replaced them on the bridge of his beaked nose.
The waitress arrived with Kjel’s coffee.
“Oh, look at that,” the server cooed as she reached for the baby carrier to pet Jack-O’s head, which was peeking out now. The Jack Russell cross pulled back his lips and growled. The waitress yanked back her hand.
Kjel shrugged, but admittedly he felt a little smug at the dog’s defensive stance. “Old. Whats can I say?”
“Well, he clearly likes you.”
“Yeah.” He gave her a warm grin. She returned his smile. It lit her eyes prettily and put pink in her cheeks. “Be right back with your order.”
“Gig kinda suits me, eh,” he said to Leo as he watched the waitress go.
“Yeah. Right. Turns you into a veritable babe magnet.”
Kjel reached for the sugar and poured an unhealthy stream into his steaming mug. He snagged up a spoon, stirred.
“Too bad you’re celibate. What’s with that, anyway?”
Kjel ignored Leo and said to Grablowski, “So, you gets pleasure out of a book deal on Pallorino’s story, then, on top of the money?” He took a sip from his mug.
“That’s right.”
Kjel stilled, mug midway between mouth and table. “You’re still burned overs the fact she cost you the Spencer Addams book deal. Is that what this is?”
Grablowski slipped his phone into his breast pocket. “Pleasure aside, this is an even better deal than the first. She’d be well advised to climb on board.”
“It’s her fecckin’ story.”
“And it’s going to run out of her control. This way she has a measure of input, direction over the content.”
“An’ she gets to work with you. Whoo—bonus.”
Grablowski locked his gaze with Kjel’s. “And you, Detective? What do you want?”
“Some good company for brunch.” He threw Grablowski a wild grin.
His food arrived—one meal packaged to go, another on a large plate with a side of flapjacks. Kjel reached for the syrup and smothered the lot with a hefty pour of maple-y nectar. “Fresh tapped from them trees in Quebec, I’ms sure,” he said, raising the bottle before he set it down on the table. He lifted his knife and fork and caught sight of the black Sharpie scrawl across the lid of the takeout carton. MASTER JACK. “Hey, well, look at that, Jack-O boy.” He pointed his knife at the print and said, “Master Jack. I likes that.”
Dog didn’t even poke his head out of the carrier. Kjel tucked in.
“That a mashup for the dog?” Leo said.
“Yup.”
“Dogs need dog food,” Leo muttered.
“Yeah, you’d know, right, Leo?” He jerked his chin to Grablowski as he chewed. “Where is she—Pallorino?”
He shrugged. “In a car. Driving somewhere.”
“What happened with her job and Vedder?”
Grablowski picked up his mug. “Don’t know yet.”
“It’ll all make for a freaking good story when this breaks first thing Monday morning, right?” Holgersen said around his mouthful.
“Right.”
Kjel studied the shrink’s face as he swallowed, then delivered another forkful of syrup-drenched sausage and egg to his mouth. He chewed, thinking that Pallorino was in for a rough ride. MVPD wasn’t going to come to her defense when this story hit the fan.
He reached for his mug, washed his food down with a hot swig. The company at this booth was leaving a really bad taste in his mouth. As he cut into a flapjack, his cell rang. He set down his fork, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and answered his call.
“Holgersen.”
He stilled at the news on the other end of his call. He shot a glance at Leo, who was watching him.
“Yeah. On my way,” Holgersen said. He killed the call.
“What was that?”
“Russian interpreter, the one who helped take the statement from the dead barcode chick—theys just pulled her little blue Yaris outta Duck Lake off the highway to Sooke.”
CHAPTER 45
Angie swore as she killed Grablowski’s call. Fisting her hands on her wheel, she increased pressure on the gas as the empty ribbon of highway began to climb and curve through smooth, rounded hills of dun-brown wintery grasslands. She was making her way to Kelvin Maximum Security Institution. She glanced at the clock on the dash—making good time at that. Her anger with Grablowski just fueled her forward faster.
Cooperate? Asshole.
This was her story, one thousand percent. She owned it; she was going to finish it.
Nevertheless, Grablowski’s ultimatum had set the clock of urgency ticking, because once the news hit about her being the mystery cradle child and a sibling to the floating foot, plus the disgraced and terminated cop who’d overkilled Spencer Addams and narrowly missed prosecution herself, her hands would be tied. She had to look into Zagorsky’s eyes before Pietrikowski or anyone else joined those dots.
Angie floored the gas as she overtook a semi lumbering up the pass. As the elevation increased, snow turned the landscape white. On either side now, as far as her eye could see, brutally clear-cut forest was band-aided with the purity of snow. She crested a ridge, and wind suddenly slammed into her vehicle. Up ahead a road sign stated the elevation—she’d hit the peak of the pass. Rounding the bend, she caught sight of the valley unfurling below. Fine dry snow blew off the landscape and swirled in drifts across the road. Angie reached for her water bottle and took a long swallow, eyes on the road. She felt gross, hungover, yet remarkably clear-eyed about where she was headed now. She’d made a decision.
As she began a slow descent through the endless hills with no sign of life apart from a scattering of oncoming cars and the odd rancher’s truck, her phone rang again. She hit the button on her dash connecting the call via hands-free.
“Pallorino,” she snapped.
“It’s Jacob Anders. We have news.”