Free Attorney's Run (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) by R.J. Jagger, Jack Rain Page B

don’t believe it. You’re in lust again. I can see it on your face.”
    He grinned.
    “Something like that,” he said.
     
    HE TOLD HER ABOUT THE TESSA BLAKE CASE as he made another pot of coffee, hoping she’d shed light on the matter. She listened patiently and asked, “Any chance she has rich relatives or a rich boyfriend? Maybe they got a ransom demand we’re not aware of.”
    Teffinger grunted.
    “Nothing like that,” he said. “The whole thing just baffles me. It’s too weird to be a garden-variety abduction. Someone went to too much trouble. There’s something sinister going on that I just can’t get my arms around.”
    She gave him a sympathetic look as she checked her watch.
    “Have to run,” she said. “My target lands at DIA in two hours.”
    “Tell me about him,” Teffinger said. “What’s his name again?”
    “Jean-Paul Boudiette.”
    “Right, him,” he said. “What’s INTERPOL want with him?”
    She stood up, kissed him on the cheek, headed for the door and said over her shoulder, “Suspicion of murder. I’ll call you later.”
    Teffinger watched her as she walked.
    Just before she got to the door, Sydney entered the room, hugged Leanne and said, “Did you know that the guy behind you is staring at your ass?”
    Leanne looked at Teffinger, then back at Sydney.
    “I thought I felt something,” she said.
     
    AFTER SANDERS LEFT, Sydney poured a cup of coffee and plopped down in one of the two worn-out leather chairs in front of Teffinger’s equally worn-out desk. “I’ve been checking up on Venta Devenelle,” she said.
    Teffinger winced.
    “Don’t do that,” he said.
    She ignored him.
    “She’s legit,” Sydney said. “She really is a duly licensed California P.I. The only thing out of the ordinary that I noted is that she made a police report a couple of months ago. It seems that both her house and her office were broken into. Her computers disappeared and so did a lot of her files. Maybe that has something to do with why she’s relocating to Denver.”
    Teffinger frowned.
    He didn’t care.
    “You really have to stop telling me this stuff,” he said. “I don’t want to know things about people unless they want me to.”
    She shrugged and pulled an envelope out of her purse.
    “I have the police reports if you want to see them,” she said.
    He shook his head.
    “Shred them,” he said.
    “Really?”
    “Now,” he said.
    She walked over to the shredder and stuffed the envelope in.
    “Happy?”
    “No,” he said. “I’ll be happy when we find Tessa Blake.” The oversized industrial clock on the wall, the one with the twitchy second hand, drew his eye for a heartbeat. “She’s our primary focus today,” he said. “We need to get real brilliant, real fast.”
     

    22
    Day Four—June 14
    Thursday Afternoon
     
    AT THE BOXCARS, JEKKER SHOT THE BOW until his arm screamed from repeatedly pulling back the 45-pound string. A bright blue Colorado sky floated above and the pines charged the air with a wonderful, sticky-sweet aroma that only existed in the mountains. The sunshine, as always, went straight to his brain and brightened everything.
    Last night he convinced himself that his back was marked.
    Now, in the daylight, he wasn’t so sure.
    He hoped not.
    He had worked long and hard to get his life to a perfect state.
    The call he was waiting for came mid-afternoon. “Is the woman awake?”
    “She is.”
    “Did you prepare her?”
    “Of course.”
    “Okay. Let’s do it.”
    “Fine. Hold on.”
     
    JEKKER POUNDED ON THE BOXCAR WITH A CLOSED FIST, unlocked the Master padlock, swung the heavy door open far enough to enter, and waved an eight-inch serrated knife at his captive as he climbed in. She cowered in the corner and peered out with frightened eyes from behind greasy black hair.
    “Time to talk,” Jekker told her. “Remember, don’t say a word until I give the go-ahead. Are we clear on that?”
    “Yes.”
    “What?”
    “Yes.”
    “I hope