David Rollins by A Knife Edge

Author:A Knife Edge
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery And Suspense Fiction, Pakistan, Air Force., United States., Fiction - Espionage, Government investigators, Fiction, United States, Suspense, War & Military, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Nuclear Warfare, Australian Novel And Short Story, Thriller, Office of Special Investigations
ISBN: 9780553805352
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2009-03-24T22:04:53+00:00

TWENTY-SEVEN

I parked a block from Amy McDonough's house, and walked the rest of the way. Her place still looked and felt every bit as empty and deserted as it did that morning. Nevertheless, I went to the front door and rang the bell.

Nothing.

I took a step back, stood on the porch, and wondered where she'd gone after the doctor's appointment she'd told Boris about—assuming she even had a doctor's appointment in the first place. It was 4:47. On the walk back down the path, I called Elmer's. After six rings a recorded voice message clicked in and told me my call was important to Elmer's and that I should try ringing during business hours, which were between nine a.m. and five p.m. Monday to Saturday, and nine a.m. to two p.m. Sundays and public holidays, except for Christmas Day, New Year's Day, and Thanksgiving when they weren't open at all, and my call would be happily handled by their expert trained staff. I wondered in what field Boris's expert training lay. Maybe it was in finishing up early.

Despite my earlier belief to the contrary, I was reasonably sure Boris took me seriously enough not to piss me off. I believed he would have called had Amy turned up for work, even if just to get revenge on her for leaving him alone in that wasteland of weight machines for the day. I got to the SUV and wondered what to do next. It would be dark in an hour. If I drove to Hurlburt Field, I'd only have to drive back out to Pensacola in the morning. My cell rang. Another blocked number. I answered it anyway.

“Hey. I thought you'd have called, or maybe sent flowers.”

“Ma'am…”

“It's Clare to you now, OK?”

“OK.”

“Anyway, now you've made me call you. Where are you? It's New Year's Eve, for Christ's sake, and I've got the night off.”

“New Year's? Jesus, when did that happen?”

“At least try to sound enthusiastic, Vin. You might give a girl a complex.”

“Sorry, Clare. Last night was amazing—you're amazing…”

“But something's wrong,” she said. “Yes, you've had an attack of the guilts—haven't you?—and now you don't want to see me because seeing me will remind you of your pathetic weakness for truly beautiful women.”

I laughed. I'd forgotten how to do that with a woman—laugh.

“So, what are you doing tonight? Mom and Dad have Manny. I've bought a bottle of vodka, the cutest underwear ensemble you've ever seen, and some whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?”

“You'll never know unless you come over.”

“I'm still in Pensacola.”

“Really?”

“Actually, I'm parked a block away from the home of a woman by the name of McDonough.”

“Who's she?”

“She was Wright's girlfriend, and maybe Butler's too.”

“Did Wright know that?” Clare asked, turning instantly into a cop.

“I don't know. That's one of the things I want to ask her.”

“So what's going on at her house?”

“Nothing. She's not home. Went out this morning and hasn't come back. I'm going to sit in the SUV and wait for her to turn up.”

“Now there's a New Year's Eve to remember.

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