Thea #2
“I-I’m not sure what he’s doing. I just know Alicia didn’t want him at their meeting with the new chemist—”
He cuts himself off. Interesting. The bosses didn’t trust Cooper. Or did they send him to Dallas—aka Mexico—for the drive Pierce is looking for? Is that what could be on it? The formula for the revolutionary drug?
My mind whirls, trying to come up with another question to get more answers from James. He’s been most helpful.
“James!” someone yells from the office interior, and James jumps off the couch and to attention. “Where’s my latte?”
“Calling now!” he yells back.
“It’s too late now! I can’t have caffeine at this hour,” the woman snaps. “Get me iced tea and a protein salad—oh, hello who are you?” The faceless woman’s tone shifts to something sultry, and I have an inkling I know who she just found.
James gets busy on the phone, and I scoot to the next chair, trying to get a better view into the office. He shoots me a look, and I smile, making a show of testing my ankle while I eavesdrop.
It’s not difficult. They are only three feet beyond the wall. I lean farther into my chair, catching a glimpse of Pierce in the grasp of an actual vulture. She’s wearing all black, her hair pulled into a severe bun, dark piercing eyes, and a nose exactly like a bird. Alicia? It fits.
“Mr. Larsen,” Pierce says with an air of authority that makes him even hotter. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me.” He shakes her hand before gently easing out of her talons.
“Oh, I’m sure I would have heard of you.” Her tone becomes suspicious. Does she suspect Pierce of infiltrating the office for the formula? The guy is hard not to notice. She would have seen him before.
“What company do you work for?” Her question turns icy.
“The one that rejected you,” Pierce replies evenly.
Uh oh.
Her expression is mutinous. “I want you out of my office now.”
Pierce is already heading in my direction. “I got all I need.”
“Security!” the woman screeches.
Pierce strides through the reception area, snatching my arm and swooping me up with him. He doesn’t take me to the elevator but to the stairwell.
“Why did you say that?” I hiss as the door slams behind us.
“What do you mean?”
“This company is in a fight with another company over some drug. You just made her believe you’re a mole or something.”
Someone hollers after us, and Pierce ups our pace. My poor legs are no match and I trip repeatedly but never meet the ground.
“What are they fighting over?” Pierce asks once we are free of the building.
“A formula. James didn’t know what for, but Cooper must have. Too bad you left him on that island.”
“Don’t start with me.” We make it to the car, and Pierce throws it into reverse and speeds out of the parking garage.
“Do you want to hear what else I learned?”
He lifts a brow. I take that as a yes.
“James thinks the partners don’t trust Cooper, and they sent him away. He was supposed to be at a conference, but clearly he was looking for your drive.”
Pierce rubs his jaw but doesn’t add to the knowledge I’ve garnered.
“So…” I click my tongue. “Did your search uncover anything, because I kind of feel like I’m carrying this whole thing on my back here.”
He presses his lips into a flat line. “Yes. I found some things. Not much, though. Cooper must have cleared his valuables and didn’t plan on returning.”
“And if you killed him, he will never be returning.”
“We heard him on the phone. I didn’t kill him.”
“That’s right, keep practicing that for when the police interrogate you.”
“I’m not going to be arrested, so I’m not going to be interrogated.”
“Isn’t there still a warrant out for our arrest in Mexico?” I ask, hating that I have to go there. Maybe I should be practicing for my own interrogation. How does one say “I’m innocent” in Spanish?
“I’ll figure it out,” he says. And because there’s nothing I can do about the Mexico thing, I pretend he can do just that.
“So… what did you learn?” I ask again.
“Cooper had copies of the emails from Mr. Smith to me in the computer trash. Those emails detail the meeting we set up in Mexico. He knew exactly where the drive was going to be. That’s why he was there. He must have thought I received the drive before he showed up or something.”
“And that’s why he followed us onto the boat,” I say.
“I believe so.”
“Well, do you have the drive?”
His eyes narrow. “I think I would know if I had the drive.”
I splay my hands on my lap, using my fingers to tap out what we know. “So Cooper and the mystery man from the docks were working together. But neither of them knows who Mr. Smith is.”
“Correct, and we know the dead guy from your room is connected, because his photo was on the phone we got at the docks. But we don’t know who killed him.”
“Could it have been the guy who stole my purse?” I ask. “My room key and phone with the pinned location were in my bag. Maybe Henry was my friend from down the hall and saw him break in to rob me for the second time, and he stepped in to help.”
After I hear it out loud, it sounds a bit too far-fetched. Would anyone—except Pierce—go to so much effort to help me? I doubt it.
“I think Henry was killed before your purse was stolen. But… maybe he was Mr. Smith. That’s why he didn’t show or why he hasn’t responded to my messages.” He curses. “And I left him in Mexico.”
“You wanted to bring the body with you?” I ask, using his words from the hotel.
His lips twitch but he doesn’t crack.
“What if Henry isn’t Mr. Smith?” I offer. “Maybe Mr. Smith is scared and hiding. What were you supposed to do with the drive after you got it?”
Pierce rubs his chin before answering. “I was going to pass it on to the buyer, then collect my cut of the payment.”
I briefly wonder how much this ‘cut’ is, but force myself to stay focused. “So now people are after you because they think you have it, and like a coward, Mr. Smith won’t stop them because they’d come for him.”
“I knew the risks going in. I can handle it.” Pierce mutters.
“Maybe Mr. Smith’s goal was to send everyone on a wild goose chase while he delivered the drive himself to the buyer.
He could have sent copies of the emails to Cooper; he might have even sent Henry in his place, then ditched town. He never planned on giving it to me.”
“So he set you up, letting people come after you. And me.” I kind of hate the man.
“I’ve suffered worse.” The stiff way he says it has me wondering about that scar on his back and his work in the CIA. Why did he leave? That seems to be a pattern with him.
“This drive has to be connected to the formula, right?” I ask.
“I’m pretty sure,” Pierce says. “I found a piece of paper folded in the back of a blank notebook in his desk.” He holds out his phone, on which he took a photo. At the top is the word Amnexia…
“Amnexia?” I say the word slowly, not wanting it to mean what I think it could mean. “Like, amnesia?”
“There are three ingredients on that list. I managed to look up one of those before I was caught. Clonazepam.” He pulls up to a stop sign and doesn’t move. “It can cause memory loss.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “This is what someone used to drug me.”
“I don’t know for sure, but it’s a strong possibility.”
Having that knowledge doesn’t soothe me.
“Cooper doesn’t even have the correct formula,” I say. “These ingredients all have question marks at the end.”
“He doesn’t,” Pierce agrees. “But someone else does.”
And someone used it. On me.
I absently watch the sun begin its descent in the sky, and Pierce is just as silent as he drives through the thick L.A. traffic. Again, all I can think is, why me?
An hour later, Pierce stops the car in front of a cheap motel, and I yank myself out of my depressing thoughts.
“This doesn’t look very safe.”
“No, but it is out of the way, and I need some time to think. Come on.”
I’m a runaway murder suspect who has been drugged and lost a week of her life and has almost died multiple times. Surely I can survive spending the night in a fixer-upper motel.