Free Dead Wrong by Patricia Stoltey

reporter’s curiosity on high alert. She had covered a check theft case a few years ago. The thief had never been caught, but a bank had been held liable for cashing the check. Lynnette wanted to know a lot more about the contents of the fat man’s case before she turned it over to anyone. She might need to take Grace’s advice and contact the Feds.
    Sammy took the broad at her word and headed for the cab stand at baggage claim level. He walked forever, waited for the train, rode to the main terminal, struggled with the escalator, then walked another mile. She’d gone to the fucking bus station. How in the hell would he explain a trip to the bus station to Mr. O? He thought about what he would say, then realized he couldn’t get in touch with his boss until he got his case. Mr. O had programmed his number into Sammy’s phone, and Sammy never bothered to memorize it. The only other way he could find Mr. O involved calling every hotel in L.A. And even that wouldn’t work if Mr. O used a different name. Sammy gripped Lynnette’s case a little tighter and lumbered out the door to find a cab.

C HAPTER 12
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    Denver, Colorado
Wednesday, January 22
    Lynnette strode across the waiting room and entered the women’s restroom with the case and her purse, pulling her carry-on. The restroom was empty and reeked of lemon and bleach.
    With her carry-on propped against her leg and her purse strap over her shoulder, she set the fat man’s laptop case on the counter and methodically went through all of the pockets, pouches and dividers. She pulled out the wad of cash and thumbed through the one-hundred-dollar bills, trying to estimate the total amount. Somewhere around $25,000, she guessed. She tucked the cash securely under the mouse.
    Next she pulled the brown envelope out of the case, removed the checks and studied them one by one. They had to be stolen or counterfeit; she had no doubt about that. None of them looked computer-generated. All appeared to be hand-typed, a couple even had erasures as though correcting typos. What had she stumbled into? A two- or three-million-dollar heist?
    She took a deep breath and slid the checks inside the envelope, fastened the clasp, and put it away. She zipped up the case and set it on the floor.
    The fat guy could get here anytime. If he took a cab, he might be out there already, looking for his bag. He’d find the only security guard on the floor, check with him, get nothing, and be furious.
    Even so, how could she justify letting a big-time thief get away just to save herself and reclaim her hopefully replaceable possessions? If she called her brokerage firm first thing in the morning, she’d get the password changed and a fraud alert placed on the account so nothing could happen to her savings. As for the friends and relatives listed on her phone and laptop, she’d contact them all and warn them to be careful. Lynnette shook her head. How in hell could all this happen in one day?
I’m tired, I’m scared, and I’m not thinking straight. I need to take a deep breath and—
    A woman and two kids entered the restroom. The woman, who appeared to lay her makeup on with a trowel, looked at Lynnette curiously but didn’t say anything.
    Lynnette no longer had any intention of going through with the trade. She wondered how she could get past the guy without him seeing her or his bag? She had the phone. Should she call the Feds as Grace had suggested? How would she do that? Dial information and ask for the FBI? In the middle of the night?
    But if she did get the FBI, they’d confiscate the case. Not to mention hold her for God knew how long to ask endless questions. What would Blue do with Grace in the meantime? Blue might end up in trouble because of Grace. Whatever happened would be Lynnette’s fault, no matter what her intentions had been.
    And if the FBI took the case, all the checks, and the cash, she’d never get her own stuff and her chance at a great story would vanish. If there