Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

said.
    Richard stared at her. She’d begun inspecting her bruised cheek in the reflection of a picture frame.
    “Stop looking at me like you’re surprised I have a brain, Richard.”
    “I agree with you,” he said. “We should see Meyer first.”
    I nodded toward the printout in his hand. “You see the last line?”
    He raised the paper and focused.
    I continued, “Eight-month-old female in Houston, taken six days ago. Has she been in the news?”
    Richard frowned, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
    “Well, I think those question marks you see mean the little girl’s on the market.”
    “All the more reason to help the Feds bring these folks down ASAP.”
    “Not that simple.” I passed Richard the paper with Annette’s information. He took a moment to scan the dates, then instantly understood.
    His eyes were still on the paper when he said, “Galveston.”
    “I’m afraid to go to the FBI, Richard. I was there when Clement got shot. If he’s unconscious, he won’t be able to vouch for me. They won’t help me unless they believe I’m innocent. That might take days.
    “My only chance to figure out who has Annette is to get these people back into town, back into action.”
    “Never mind these are the same people who tried to kill you.”
    Jeannie looked at me. “Got an idea?”
    “They have a baby to sell. I have a lot of money.”
    “You’re not thinking,” Jeannie said. “You can’t set up a deal with them. They know you.” She gave a dismissive wave. “They know all of us.”
    “I’m sure we could find a stand-in to do it for the right price,” I said. My newfound sack of money seemed able to repeatedly transform major obstacles into trivial afterthoughts.
    “How would you contact them?” Richard asked. “The only phone numbers we have are for Kurt’s and Trish’s cells. I don’t care how good your cover story is, calling one of those numbers is sure to tip them off.”
    He was right. Money wouldn’t help with that one.
    “Okay,” I said, “Back to David Meyer then. If nothing comes from talking to him, I’ll have to take my chances with Clement and the FBI. They knew enough about the racketeering to be undercover at the drop zone. Maybe they know who to call when you want to buy a baby. With data from the hard drive, they could set up a sting.”
    “How do we do the David thing?” Jeannie asked. “Show up at his office? Wait at his house?”
    Richard produced his wallet and started leafing through cards. He pulled out a paper and walked toward the phone.
    “We don’t have time to wait at his house,” he said. “I’ll ask about a visit to his office.”
    “See if you can get the IP address for his remote log-ins,” I said.
    He nodded and dialed. Jeannie stood and walked to me.
    “How are you holding up?” she asked quietly.
    I couldn’t answer without breaking down, so I shook my head. Jeannie put an arm around me. On the phone, Richard asked for the information I wanted, then about stopping by to see David. I thought about Annette’s entry on the spreadsheet again and felt my eyes start to sting, but the sound of the phone dropping into its cradle spurred me to keep myself together.
    “Meyer called in sick this morning,” Richard said. “He’s not at work today. They’re looking into the IP address.”
    Jeannie clucked her tongue. “Is it me, or does the timing of that sick day seem a little strange?”
    “I don’t like it either,” Richard said, and grabbed his keys off the desk.

Chapter Thirty-two
    Richard said that in his line of work, calling before an interview is like doing a cannonball jump before trying to fish. We had no assurance that just because David Meyer had called in sick he’d actually be home, but Richard was fairly confident that calling ahead would guarantee his absence.
    That’s how we ended up in the parking lot of David’s apartment complex, staring through Richard’s windshield at the second-floor landing shared by units twelve and thirteen. David had no idea we were coming, and I had no idea what to say to him.
    “Just introduce me,” Richard said. “Most people are open to questions when they think it’ll help a friend. If he understands why these answers are important to you, hopefully he’ll help us.”
    “Yeah,” Jeannie said to him, “until you come to the part about how his two-timing, psycho girlfriend sells black market babies.”
    She was in the backseat, leaning forward so she wouldn’t miss anything.