My phone rang loudly, waking me and my husband out of a deep death-like sleep at two a.m. Keyth answered the phone and handed it to me.
“Who is it? Kelly?”
“No. It’s your new boss.”
“Hello,” I said groggily.
“Agent Perry, this is Acting Director Malone. I thought you were on extended vacation.”
“I am,” I said, still, out of it, eyes still closed.
“Then what the hell did you think you were doing going on television speaking for the bureau?”
That got my attention real quick. My eyes shot open and wide. I knew Kortney was going to find out soon enough. But not at two o’clock in the morning. I felt like a kid who knew he was going to be punished for missing curfew so he stays out even longer. The kid realizes the punishment will be the same regardless of how late he returns.
So flippantly, I said, “Kortney, it’s late and my husband has to get up early. I would appreciate it if you called during normal business hours.”
She was silent. We had been at the Academy together so I knew what she was doing, knew how she thought. Whenever she was about to blow up, she simply silenced herself, which was exactly what I wanted her to do. At least I’d be able to sleep the rest of the night. If she was really hard-up, she could force me to meet her at the bureau where I’d get the tongue-lashing of my life. But by pissing her off, she would think first.
“Agent Perry,” Kortney finally said after a long pause. “I apologize for calling your home at this hour, but I’m looking at this idiot who looks just like you in an FBI windbreaker on the news. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t suspend you on the spot.”
“Kortney, I screwed up,” I said, changing my tone. “I let my emotions get the better of me. I knew the victim. She was one of my daughter’s teachers.”
“I’m sorry, Phoenix.” Kortney softened a bit. “But was the reporter right? Did the victim have anything to do with the Perkins murders?”
“I don’t believe she did. No,” I said sincerely.
“You’re absolutely sure about that?”
“Yes,” I said confidently.
“And you know that because…” Kortney’s words trailed off.
I paused. I had fallen into yet another trap. Kortney had set me up. I felt about as bright as a two-dollar whore bragging about giving change back to her customers. Both the reporter and Kortney had used my emotions against me in subtle ways to elicit truth from me that I, under normal circumstances, would have never divulged. The reporter saw my whitehot anger and knew immediately that I would want to set the record straight. Now Kortney was pulling my loyalty strings to siphon off information. Pimped twice in one night.
“Well?” Kortney said. “How do you know, Phoenix?”
“Well…I guess I really don’t know.”
“And that’s why you keep your damn mouth closed in front of the media. Do you realize your emotional outburst made the national broadcast? The local affiliate notified the network and now CNN has it. It’s being replayed every half-hour on Headline News.”
I remained silent.
“Tell me something, Phoenix. How much did your house cost?”
“Huh?” Where did that come from?
“Humor me. How much did your house cost?”
“That’s personal, Kortney,” I said. I didn’t want people in the bureau knowing how much money my father and husband’s private investigation firm was pulling in.
“You know I can easily find out, Phoenix. It’s a matter of public record. But if I did that, I would have to wait until tomorrow to make my salient point. Now, how much did you pay for your house?”
“Four hundred fifty thousand,” I said. If we lived just about anywhere else in the country, with the exception of Los Angeles and New York, our home would be a palace. But in Arlington, houses are very expensive. It would be difficult to find a decent house for less than $230,000. That is, if you want more than one bathroom.
“That’s what I figured,” Kortney said with a satisfied tone. “Now, how is it that a teacher can afford to live right across the street from you?”
“She inherited the money from her deceased uncle,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Are you shark sure?”
I remembered the first time I heard her little euphemism, “shark sure.” We were at the Academy with other would-be FBI agents practicing how to go through doors. Kortney and I had gone through a door and yelled “clear.” We heard an instructor say, “Bang! Bang! Both of you are dead.” Then he reminded us to look behind the door. Later, at mealtime, Kortney had said she would be shark sure the next time she yelled “clear.” We all laughed hysterically. We knew what she meant, but it was funny as hell.
“Yes.”
“Well you better be shark sure, Phoenix. Shark sure!”
I remained quiet. I was thinking about what Kortney was saying. What if Sarah Lawford lied about the inheritance money? If she lied, that in and of itself would not prove that she was involved with Warden Perkins. But it would raise questions. Questions that could prove to be embarrassing for me and the bureau. I was the one who had vouched for her on television a few hours earlier.
“You know the media is going to ask some of the same questions that I’m asking, Phoenix.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. All of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure about Sarah Lawford. I wasn’t sure at all. If we couldn’t prove that she inherited a substantial amount of money, the media was going to have a field day.
“Listen, you can pretend to be on an extended vacation if you want, but I’m putting you back on pay status, which means I expect regular reports from you and McPherson. You don’t have to come into the office, but you do have to report your findings to me. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Apologize to Keyth for me. Goodnight.”