Liz is taken down, but who knows how extensive her influence is? There’s also the possibility that she didn’t act alone. Though she’s in custody, Marka is still worried about her. She’s also very worried about Frank. What does he have that Liz wanted so desperately?
“Rochelle, you’re the best! Why don’t we go together? Then Arnold can join me for the debriefing.” She chuckled. “Oh, that sounds so nasty.” Giggling, she walked down the hall with Rochelle.
Colonel Shay watched them go. When they were out of hearing distance, he placed a call. “How is he?” he asked without identifying himself. “Good. They got Liz, but she’s slick. I have no doubt she’ll manage to find a way out of this mess. I want extra security on Frank.” He paused, listening. His frown deepened. “What do you mean, he’s not there? Where the hell is he? Well, find him! And for God’s sake, tell the others to be careful. He’s one of ours.” He hung up, muttering angrily.
From the triage area that the emergency staff had set up, Marka saw Arnold talking on his phone. His face reddened and a vein popped out on his forehead. He stuffed the phone in his pocket. His glance at her told her more than words could. Marka stood as the paramedic tried to take her vital signs.
“Dr. Ventimiglia, I insist you sit still.”
“Something’s wrong,” Marka told Rochelle. “Look at Arnold.”
Rochelle gazed steadily at the Colonel for a moment. “That man’s in a panic. You say your man’s being watched?”
“Yes. They were protecting him from Liz.”
“Maybe they were protecting the wrong person.”
“Oh, my God! Let me up,” she told the paramedic, shoving him aside. She walked quickly to Arnold’s side. “Where is he?”
“They don’t know. The hospital is being checked.”
“It wouldn’t be hard for him to slip out.”
“No, not for Frank.”
“Where is he likely to go? What would Liz tell him to do?”
“That’s what scares me. It could be anything. She might even tell him to hurt his own family. But I don’t think she’d waste her own time like that. She wants something from him, my guess is those damn journals. See if that pal of yours can get you to a safe spot. Frank’s going to track those and he has access to the tracking program. Give me your watch.”
He smirked. “Because that’s where it is. Is it precious?” He laid the watch on the floor.
“No. I bought it at Wal-Mart. Why?”
Shay smashed the watch with his heel. A tiny chip lay in the wreckage. He crushed it completely and scooped up the pieces, dropping them in his pocket.
“Let’s hope he hasn’t already found our location. Get to that safe spot and don’t leave.”
“I’ll ask Rochelle. Where are you going?”
“To find Frank. If he hasn’t located you, then he’s got two places to start—his house or the nursing home.”
“Three—the blue house.”
“Oh, hell.” He whipped out his phone, calling Cherry and Brad. He walked off, frowning.
Marka couldn’t be sure, but she was pretty sure that Arnold hadn’t reached the computer experts. She hoped that whatever Frank did, he didn’t injure them.
Rochelle took her back to the interrogation room where she’d been before. Two officers were stationed outside and Rochelle came in with Marka.
“I need to see what Frank might have said about Clay’s accident,” Marka said, setting the journals down.
“I’ll help. What am I looking for?”
“It was three years ago in the spring,” Marka said. “Frank’s very detail oriented and it looks like these are dated. He’s even got the time. You dear, meticulous darling.” She felt tears well in her eyes. “Here’s the week of the bombing.” She showed Rochelle the page.
“Could he have noticed something before that? Probably not too far in advance, or Psycho Blondie would have taken him out before he told anyone.”
“I wonder when he was having his affair with her.”
Rochelle looked shocked. “Your man tapped Blondezilla?”
“Yeah, long before he met me.”
“Thank God. He don’t have the Crazy Cooties, then.”
Marka giggled. “No.” Thank God!
Rochelle flipped through another journal. She stopped, pointing to the page. Marka leaned over, reading.
Shay’s got a new secretary. Hot blonde named Liz. Of course, all the guys are
are hitting on her. It’s always like that with fresh meat. She’s nine kinds of hot and she totally hates me. I damn near hit her in the face with the door. See what running when hungover does? Oh, well. There’s other women—just not any that hot.
“That was a couple months before the accident,” Rochelle said. She read a few more minutes, scanning the pages quickly. “Oh, Lordy!” She fanned herself. “Your man has quite the gift of description! And a hell of an imagination. Oh, no. He didn’t!” She held the journal close to her chest when Marka reached for it. “Oh, hell no! This is better than Fifty Shades of Grey.”
© Dellani Oakes