to be ferreted out and contained. She couldn’t pretend this away. Sheara had far too many enemies to take that route.
Olivia was at the front door before she considered that she couldn’t simply leave without saying goodbye. Jeffrey had to believe this was a routine call-in for a patient who’d been admitted to Cedars-Sinai’s psych ward for observation after a possible suicidal episode. The one or two other times she’d had to do this would serve as proper reasoning for her inability to offer a time she could be expected back home.
If she came home…
Jeffrey blew out the candles as she approached the dining room. He’d already cleared their plates and the basically untouched salad and entrée he’d gone to so much trouble to prepare.
“I’ll call you later to let you know how it’s going.” She told herself the statement was about consideration for his feelings. Work he could understand, even if it intruded at an inopportune time. But if she were totally honest with herself she’d admit that she’d gone this extra step to ensure he didn’t grow suspicious. The habit was deeply ingrained.
Just like old times. How many lies had she told to the people in her former life’s orbit? She’d have lied to her own mother had she not been long deceased. Her past life had been built on a careful framework of deception. Lies were all that had kept her alive.
She suppressed the shudder that rocked her insides.
“I’ll warm something up for you when you get back.”
“Thanks, Jeffrey.”
She had to go. Telling him not to wait up was pointless. He would…he always did.
As she walked out the front door and down the paved path to her car, all six senses alert to her surroundings, she couldn’t help thinking that nothing would ever be the same again.
Her new life was over.
The only question was…why?
The drive to Santa Monica took only forty-five minutes. Traffic was light. She didn’t hurry. She had plenty of time. Arriving early would afford her the opportunity to find a reconnaissance position.
The night security would be lurking about, but it wasn’t unusual for people, tourists in particular, to come to the pier at night to enjoy the moonlight on the water.
The park rides, the shops and the restaurants would all be closed by midnight but there would be plenty of lighting. She would need to take great care in selecting her position. If terminating this guy became necessary, she didn’t want any witnesses.
As darkness descended fully and the crowd thinned, Olivia took a position between a closed fast-food tourist trap and a bait and tackle shop. The smell of overcooked hot dogs and frying oil lingered in the air.
During the day, the pier was crowded with locals as well as tourists. As midnight approached, only a lone soul or two lingered on the massive wooden pier. A few others walked along the beach.
Olivia waited in the shadows, analyzing anything that moved. She saw her target’s arrival from a considerable distance as he passed under a light en route from the parking area to the wide planked boardwalk. Khaki shorts, white T-shirt and red baseball cap, just as she’d requested.
She couldn’t make out his face yet. He strolled along somewhat hesitantly as if this might have been his first visit to the pier or maybe he was just afraid of being in a strange place after dark. The pockets of his shorts didn’t bulge, indicating he carried nothing about which she needed to be concerned. What appeared to be a video-camera bag hung on his right shoulder.
As he unknowingly neared her position, he paused and turned all the way around, evidently looking for anyone who might be watching him. With his T-shirt tucked neatly inside the waistband of his shorts, it was obvious that he wasn’t carrying a weapon as she was.
When she’d made out the details of his face she confirmed that she hadn’t met him before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trouble.
When he moved just in front of her position, she stepped out of the shadows. “Mr. Soderbaum.”
He gasped and whipped around to face her. Even in the dim lighting she saw his face pale. “Sheara?” He was either a very good actor or scared witless.
Before she began her questioning, she patted him down to ensure he wasn’t wearing a wire or any other sort of listening device. With the more undetectable microfiber jobs, it wasn’t an easy task, so she took her time. She might not be in the business anymore, but she tried to keep up with the latest gadgets.
When she’d satisfied herself that he was clean, she asked, “Is the bag for me?”
He nodded jerkily. “Yes. Sorry.” He swung the camera case off his shoulder and offered it to her.
Olivia accepted the case and opened it for a quick peek. Hundreds of crisp twenty-dollar bills were stacked inside, but that wasn’t her concern at the moment. She checked for tracking and listening devices and found none. Whether that was good or bad, she wasn’t precisely sure.
“Excellent.”
“Do you need to count it?” He glanced around nervously. “What if someone sees us?”
“I’ll count it later.” She closed the case and slung it over her shoulder.
He nodded. “Of course. If it’s not all there you won’t go through with the job.”
She ignored his comment. “Before we go any further, I have a few questions for you, Mr. Soderbaum.”
Uncertainty claimed his expression once more. “I thought I wouldn’t have to answer any questions. I just give you the money and information and the job gets done.” He wasn’t as old as she’d anticipated. Forty maybe. And right now he looked thoroughly terrified.
“Not those kinds of questions, Mr. Soderbaum,” she assured him. “I never accept an assignment without verifying certain things, like who recommended me.”
“I don’t know his real name. I got the recommendation in a chat room.”
Man, this guy was stupider than he looked. “You’re lucky I’m not a federal agent, Mr. Soderbaum.”
Taken aback and obviously startled, he asked, “Why would…oh.” Realization appeared to dawn on him then. Soliciting murder was a serious crime, usually carried a life sentence. The muscles of his throat struggled as he attempted to swallow. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Fortunately for you, I’m not.” That part was definitely true. She opted to get straight to the heart of the matter before pushing for his source. If she made this guy too nervous he might balk. There were certain elements she needed to know and the identity of the target was one of them. “Why don’t we get down to business?”
He nodded, the movement as uncoordinated as a bobble-head doll’s.
“I’ll need the specifics on your target.”
“Of course.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a couple of folded sheets of paper. He hesitated before giving them to her.
