Chapter Twenty #3
“So how did you get from there to here?” Cujo asked, leaning forward in his seat. Drea rubbed circles on his back.
“Well, if you can’t get information from the outside, then sometimes you need to get it from the inside.”
Had she really been inside of Cleffan? “So what are you then? A spy or some kind of whistleblower?”
“Of sorts. I was trying to find out what Cleffan’s expansion plans were for the Everglades, and a shale gas operation in Alabama.”
Of sorts. What the fuck did that mean? “What did you do?”
“I started work as a personal assistant to Elroy King, Cleffan’s head of security.”
Elroy King. The man she’d seen outside Henderson’s suite at the hotel, and the man they witnessed talking with the governor.
“Did he find out who you really were?” Cujo stood and started to pace.
“Yes he did. Don gave me up.” Evelyn looked up at Cujo.
Of all the things Drea had been expecting Evelyn to say, that was not it. She remembered the night at the hospital when she and Cujo had fought over whether to call Don. Had Cujo been right? Was Don the bad guy?
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Cujo replied. “He’s bent over backward to be helpful. Medical bills, police cooperation, the whole deal.”
Drea shivered in shock. That was twice Drea had put Evelyn in danger. First in the café, and then by engaging Don. She had led him to Evelyn.
“I received a tip-off that someone within my organization was on the take. They were paid to inform the energy companies we went to investigate.” Evelyn looked between the two of them. “Don was on holiday when the decision to pick the case up was made.”
“So what happened?” Cujo asked.
“Don’s boss, the head of the organization I worked for, asked me to interview for the assistant position as soon as it was posted. I got the job, and within a week I was on the ground. Another colleague was hired into I.T. at the same time.”
Drea couldn’t begin to imagine the kinds of guts it took to do that. Simply starting a new job felt like a huge challenge. “How long were you there for?”
“Three weeks. I’d finally started to gain some trust. I went in on a Saturday under the premise of catching up on emails. My plan was to get into Henderson’s office. But I got a call from our man in I.T. Elroy King had requested a new phone so I went to collect it.
I used the temporary password to get into King’s files, and sure enough, I found a message from Don, telling King I was there.”
Drea held her breath. It was like a Tom Clancy novel. She looked at Evelyn’s bruises and scars and chunks of hair cut away at the scalp. Unlike the stories in books, this had real, hard consequences.
“I couldn’t forward the emails because there would be a trail, but I took photographs of them. I was just putting his new phone back in the box when King walked into his office.”
“Holy fuck,” Cujo said.
Drea was so invested in Evelyn’s story, she’d forgotten he was there. “How did you get out?”
Evelyn sighed. “The head of I.T. had called him and told him his phone was ready. He’d come in to collect it.
He asked what I was doing. I made some excuse.
I.T. always screws up … wanted to check it was set up …
wanted it to be ready for him on Monday …
blah, blah, blah. But we both knew I was lying.
“Fortunately there were other people in the hallway. He couldn’t do anything and he knew it. I had to get out and lie low. It may seem strange to come to Miami, but I arranged to meet a friend, an environmental lawyer. I was going to ask him to help me. In fact I should call him.”
Drea remembered the conversation outside the café with Detective Carter. He’d told her a lawyer had been killed.
“Do you mean Walter Tobias?”
“Yes, why? Did something happen to him?”
Drea paused, and this time it was Cujo’s turn to comfort her. “I’m sorry, Evelyn. He died the night you were abducted.”
Evelyn gasped. “No. Please, no. How? Was it an accident?”
Drea shook her head. “The police are treating it as suspicious.”
“Goddamn.” Evelyn raged, looking at Cujo, the pain evident in her eyes. “Don’t you see? This is why I have to do what I do. These big companies will stop at nothing to get what they want.”
Cujo slid his chair forward a fraction and reached for his mom’s hand. In spite of the madness, the sight of it made Drea’s heart sing. “We should call Carter and Lopes. The doctor was prepared to wait to call them until later.”
“The proof is on my laptop,” Evelyn said. “I uploaded the photos to my hard drive as a backup to my phone, which I lost that night. I need you to go and get it for me. Without it, we have nothing to show them.”
“Where is it?” Cujo asked.
“In an apartment not far from the café. A friend usually leases it, but the tenant had just moved out when I called her. I’ll ask her to meet you there after work with a key. There is a security box hidden under the floor in the hall closet. Everything is in there. The code is 290913.”
“We need to write it down. Do you have a pen Shortcake?”
“You don’t need one, it’s yours, Connor’s, and Devon’s birthdays, in birth order.”
Cujo looked at his mom, a wave of unspoken emotion between them. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “Give us the address.”
They arranged the logistics and stood to leave. Cujo gripped Drea’s hand, and after a cursory good-bye to his mom, led her to the door.
“Brody, I’m sorry,” Evelyn called from the bed. “Sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I hope that once this is over, we can find some kind of relationship.”
Her statement hung in the air.
“I do, too, Mom.”