you want, I’ll take you out for a beer,” Thomas offered.
“I thought you had plans tonight.”
“I do. But I can give her a call.”
Sean wouldn’t be such a spoilsport. “Forget it. I’m a big boy. I’ll find some entertainment on my own.”
“Okay, hotshot.” Thomas put two fingers to his brow and saluted him. “I hope your mission goes well tonight. See you in the morning. I’ll be expecting a full report.”
“Get out of here.” Once his partner had left, Sean reached behind his neck and rubbed at the tension that seemed to hang like a perpetual burden across his shoulders.
He really should take Thomas’s advice. Spend some time with a pretty lady. Share a few laughs. Do some serious catching-up on his involuntary celibacy of the past months.
At the very least he could call one of those names in Thomas’s black book and introduce himself. Maybe he could convince one of them to share some birthday cake with him.
His sex-deprived body jumped at a hazy image of a sexy naked lady licking frosting off his fingers. But as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring the image into sharp focus, it faded in a puff of smoke. His eyes shot open and focused on the mounds of paperwork instead. Damn, his imagination stunk.
Maybe he’d do better to buy a six-pack and a Playboy and ease his frustrations that way.
With that much of a plan made, Sean rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and buttoned the cuffs. He was crossing the room to get his jacket when the door burst open.
“Hall. Maddox.”
“Chief?” The only man in the building who worked longer hours than Sean himself was Deputy Chief John Dillon. And judging by the scowl that creased his mahogany skin, his long hours were just getting started. “What’s up?”
Chief Dillon scoped the office. “Hall leave already?”
“It is after five.”
“Then you take a look at this.” He thrust a fax into Sean’s hands and started pacing. “That just came off the wire. The ambassador from San Isidro, Ramon Vargas, was found dead in his Washington, D.C., hotel suite this morning.”
Sean scanned the report for pertinent facts. “The local cops suspect foul play?”
“The San Isidrans are already on the horn demanding answers. Supposedly, he drowned in his bathtub, but there are bruises on his forearms and the back of his neck that indicate a struggle.”
“Isn’t this a case for the locals or the embassy police to handle? Why bring it to our attention?” Then he read the last line in the second to last paragraph. “Son of a bitch. Is this information accurate?”
“From a reliable informer.” Chief Dillon was shaking his head when Sean looked up. “I don’t believe in coincidence, either.”
“Vargas just returned from vacation on Pleasure Cove Island?”
“Sound familiar?”
With the thrill of the chase on again, Sean circled behind his desk and leafed through the scattered pile of papers. “Bingo.” He pulled out Judge Rossini’s itinerary for the past two weeks and compared it to the dates on Dillon’s report. “They were both on Pleasure Cove Island last weekend.”
He set the papers down side by side and searched for another piece of evidence. He pulled out the photocopy of a high-class, lowbrow invitation and read it out loud.
“You are cordially invited for a weekend of fun and frolic on Pleasure Cove Island. Security guaranteed.
“Meet at the New Harbor dock at 5:00 p.m. to be ferried across Muscongus Bay to my island home.
“Leave your wildest fantasies to us.
“All will be discreetly provided for you.
“Your host,
“Douglas Fairchild.”
“It’s a perfect setup,” the chief said. “Word is, if you have the money and the power, you can go there and do the nasty however and to whomever you want. Fairchild promises anonymity. There are no telephone communications to the island. He’s never allowed the press there. For medical emergencies, there’s a nurse on the premises. No one goes in once the party’s started. No one comes out until it’s done.”
“A regular playground for the rich and self-indulgent. You think Fairchild is blackmailing his guests?”
“Or maybe the guest list isn’t as anonymous as Fairchild wants it to be.”
Adrenaline pumped through Sean’s veins. He wasn’t out of the Reyes kidnapping case yet. If he could find something to prove Judge Rossini had been coerced into resigning, he’d have a whole new angle to pursue to keep Marquez behind bars. “Can I go check it out?”
Dillon grinned. “I was hoping you’d ask. Take tomorrow off. Make it a three-day weekend. The ferry to the island leaves promptly at five o’clock.” He was already backing out the door. “I’ll finagle you an invitation and a high-profile cover so you can go in as a guest. You get yourself the date.”
The adrenaline burned out in Sean’s veins. “You’re not assigning a female agent?”
“You’ve got fewer than twenty-four hours, Maddox.” Dillon talked as if he thought Sean was too thickheaded to figure out the obvious. “Take a girlfriend. Tell her you won a free vacation. Tell her you’re celebrating your birthday. It’ll be easier to behave as a couple with someone you’re already familiar with. And since this is strictly a fact-finding mission, I don’t see it as high risk. Call your girl. I’ll fill in Hall tomorrow morning so he can monitor your progress. The clock is ticking.”
“Yes, sir,” he called out to Dillon’s back, but the chief was already striding down the hallway.
Sean stood for a moment alone in the silence.
Who the hell could he call to spend a weekend at a sexual playtime resort like Pleasure Cove? Elise was out of the picture. Maybe…what was her name? Or else that blonde? “Damn.”
This was a sad testament to his workaholic lifestyle.
And he couldn’t exactly go to a bar or the produce aisle and try to pick up someone for more than a get-acquainted date.
Fear of failure warred with duty.
As always, duty won.
Sean snatched up the black book Thomas had given him for his birthday. He’d said these women were willing to meet him.
Maybe one of them would be willing to do a little bit more.
2
CAITLIN MCCORMICK TOOK one look inside her apartment door and knew she was in trouble.
“Cassie?”
