Chapter 6
Spencer
That was close. A little too close for comfort.
I never thought to ask what the ex-husband did.
And until about six minutes ago, it was irrelevant.
I slide behind the wheel of my BMW and slide my shades on just in case he brought any of his friends with him.
As I pull out of the resort and into heavy traffic, I switch the radio on and listen to the local rock station while I wait for the cars to move.
Beside me there’s a cute blonde in a convertible, wearing a low-cut top. She notices me and smiles.
Normally I’d flirt, see if I can get her to pass me her number, but for the strangest reason, I’m not interested.
I snap my eyes front and to pass the time, take in the other vehicles around me.
In front, it’s a Prius, from the stickers plastered on the back, probably carrying a tree hugger trying to save the world.
To my right is a minivan, filled with fat sunburned tourists.
But it’s the car behind me, that interests me the most. A black sedan with tinted windows that makes rivulets of anxiety trickle through me.
With traffic this congested, anyone could be in the car.
Since I’m stuck here, I decide I may as well call Mike back.
He picks up instantly and sounds out of breath. “What the fuck are you playing at? You spend the entire fucking—”
He’s yelling so loud I just hold the phone away from my ear and wait for him to calm down.
When he’s been quiet for a few seconds I jam the phone against my ear. “You finished?”
He grunts. “Did you get it done?”
I pull out the photos from my gallery and send them through to him.
When they’re sent, I lean my head back on the rest and watch the traffic flow past me. “Yep. Still got the willies?”
“Yeah. Something smells bad. Watch your back, that woman has trouble written all over her tits.”
I mutter under my breath and I don’t bother to say goodbye. Mike can be paranoid, you have to be to survive in this game, but that’s twice now he’s mentioned Audrey.
Almost without thinking I reach for my phone and wonder what she’d do if I knocked on her door again later.
I could hang around, wait for the cop to leave, then show up and convince her to sleep with me one last time before she leaves.
The idea is entirely tantalizing as is the thought of dirty hotel room sex.
I stare at my phone, then check my rearview again before the traffic moves, propelling me to move too.
I keep driving south, towards my condo, but when the traffic thins out on the highway, and I see the car following a few car lengths back, I know I’m not being paranoid.
And if I’m being followed, it means they know about Audrey.
Without another thought I grab the burner phone I keep in the glove box and call her.
***
Audrey
Sunday 3.12pm
I’m packing and trying not the think about Spencer or what he might have been up to when my phone starts to ring.
I fold a t-shirt and place it on top of my makeup bag and dig around in my handbag to find my phone.
When I don’t recognize the number, I ignore it and let it go to voicemail.
I need to consider why I’ve acted the way I did this weekend. My fling with Spencer was so far out of character, I’m a little worried as to why I did it.
Maybe it was Beth leaving me, maybe it was how charming Spencer was, how great a kisser he is, or possibly just being out of the public eye that did it.
Whatever the reason, I’m left with a horrible pit in my stomach that whether I want him to or not, Spencer has left a gap in my life, I might not be able to fill again once I’m home.
I’m still caught in my thoughts, trying to unravel my impulsive behavior when a knock sounds at the door.
Thinking it’s Beth arriving for our pedicures, I open the door and find myself staring at an olive-skinned man and a blonde woman in her late thirties.
Both are wearing suits, and both carry the look of federal agents.
The man smiles and extends his badge identifying him as FBI. “Audrey Bishop? I’m Special Agent David Jenkins. This is Special Agent Tammy Higgins. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
I gulp as every possible scenario skids recklessly around in my already muddle thoughts.
I have to fight to hide the waver in my voice. “What’s this about?”
He lowers his badge and puts it away. But the woman extends her hand, and I nearly have a heart attack when I see Spencer’s mugshot staring at me. “You spent the weekend with this man?”
It’s not a question, more of a statement of fact, so I just nod, and grip the door a little tighter. “Why? Is he in trouble?”
Agent Jenkins answers somewhat smugly. “You could say that. We’ve been tracking him and his associates for over twelve months.”
I swallow and try to keep my shaking hands hidden. “Tracking him for what?”
He gives me a half-smile, reeking of pity. “Did you give Mr. Kane any personal details Ms. Bishop? Anything he might be able against you?”
What the hell has Spencer done!
I grip the doorframe tighter. “Do I need to call a lawyer?”
The female agent raises her eyebrow. “I think we can avoid that for now. But it is imperative we find Mr. Kane. Do you know where he is?”
I eye her as I slowly shake my head.
Her eyes narrow slightly as if she doesn’t believe me. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable discussing this elsewhere?”
A memory slams into me, bringing with it unwelcome images of the last time two law enforcement officers knocked on my door. “Here is fine.”
His next words slam into my chest with the force of a hurricane. “Did Spencer Kane know you’re the daughter of the interim Chief of Atlanta?”
Ripples of fear start to build as I struggle not to react. This is bad.
“No. Of course not. I barely know him.”
She looks to the Agent beside her, and steps closer. “And when did you speak to your father last?”
My stomach backflips. “A week ago, or so, why? Is he okay? What does this have to do with Spencer?”
For a horrible moment, I think they’ve been sent her to tell me my father has died in the line of fire but she’s ignoring me. “Tell me about your relationship with Mr. Kane. Is it ongoing? Can you contact him if need be?”
I shake my head. “It was a casual relationship. And it ended when I left the island.”
She scribbles something in her notebook and I’m starting to realize I should have invited them inside. If Beth comes out of her room, this is going to be hard to explain.
Even she doesn’t know the extent my father is willing to go to. But enlisting federal agents seems extreme just to protect his reputation.
Jenkins gives me what he probably thinks is his reassuring smile. “And when did you meet Mr. Kane?”
I frown at his continued aversion to answering my questions. “Saturday morning. He drove me home from the nightclub we were at.”
He doesn’t ask a standard follow up question, or ask who else was there, just moves on to an entirely inappropriate one given I don’t have an attorney present and they’re still standing in the hallway. “Was the relationship sexual?”
Heat spreads across my cheeks and I’m about ready to slam the door in his face. “Why is that relevant?” I snap.
The female agent tries for a pacifying voice, but it just comes out a cross between patronizing and condescending. “I understand these questions are awkward Ms. Bishop but we’re trying to ascertain if Mr. Kane was collecting more potentially damaging material.”
I suck in a breath through my teeth. “What do you mean collect more damaging material?”
Like they’re playing tag team, he answers. “Did Mr. Kane take any photos of you? Perhaps of an intimate nature.”
My eyes widen as I struggle to string two words together. “Absolutely not. Now would you please tell me what the hell this is about, or do I need to get my father on the phone?”
That seems to shake them a little but not in the way I’d hoped for. “Your father is the reason we’re here Ms. Bishop,” Higgins says.
Unease trickles down my spine as I look at the exchange between them like they have a secret and they’re just dying to tell me.
“What does Spencer have to do with my father?” I ask.
It’s Higgins that answers, and there’s an amount of glee in her voice that belies the weight of her words.
“Your father is an important man. And we have reason to believe you just spent the weekend with a known criminal. We need to make sure this doesn’t become an issue in the near future.”
Bile rises to my throat and I have to dig my fingernails into my palm to keep myself from showing how rattled I am.
Oh shit! Oh shit. Oh shit!
I knew my father kept tabs on me, but this is outlandish and an intolerable invasion of my privacy. “If you’d excuse me for a minute,” I hear myself say.
Both agents move to stop me, but I’m so out of sorts I just close the door in their faces.
I grab my phone, ready to call my father but see a text message from an unknown number.
Got your mace handy?
S
