The Finishing School

AFTER TREVOR AND BRIDGET LEFT, Melanie sifted through her in-box and pulled out a copy of Ray-Ray Wong’s DEA-6 report detailing the interview with Luis Reyes. She wanted to give Reyes the benefit of the doubt, but damn, there it was in black and white: proof he’d lied. “REYES informed the undersigned that Mr. and Mrs. James Seward arrived back to the residence at approximately 2330 to 2400 hours and met up with REYES.” No mistake about it either. Ray-Ray Wong was a careful note taker, and besides, the report only confirmed Melanie’s own recollection of what Reyes had said. It was after ten, but this couldn’t wait. She was leaving for Puerto Rico first thing in the morning. She’d confront Reyes tonight.

The snow had turned to heavy sleet. Melanie exited the glass lobby doors, heading across the plaza toward the empty street. Small icy pellets hit her face, stinging her, collecting on her hair and eyelashes. She pulled her coat tighter, looked up at the strangely backlit gray-white sky and wondered if her flight would be canceled tomorrow.

Making it uptown was starting to look like a chancier proposition than getting to Puerto Rico. Melanie stepped off the curb, squinting through the driving sleet at oncoming traffic, looking for a cab. But the wide avenue, which ran through a canyon of tall courthouses and office buildings, was virtually deserted given the hour and the weather. Several blocks down, a few vehicles sat at a red light. The light changed, and they struggled slowly toward her, fighting for traction. A beat-up white van fishtailed on the glassy blacktop, then righted itself. Melanie spotted a taxi with its off-duty light on and hailed it frantically, but the driver ignored her.

After a few more minutes, an enormous plow sped by, spitting foamy black slush from its blade, forcing her to jump up onto the curb to avoid getting splattered. Once it passed, she stepped into the street again and sank into a puddle up to her ankles. The frigid water soaked right through her good suede boots.

Melanie trudged out of the puddle, feeling like the last person left on earth. Nobody out on foot, no vehicles approaching as far as the eye could see, the clicking sound of pelting sleet muffling everything else. She was begi

Across the avenue and up several car lengths, the headlights of a parked SUV flashed on. Strange. Melanie couldn’t recall seeing a person approach that car or hearing its engine start up either. Maybe she’d been distracted by her search for a cab? The enormous vehicle was covered in crusty snow, its outline softened and obscured. But as it maneuvered to pull out of the tight parking space, Melanie recognized it as an Escalade by its size and shape. It looked black, too-the same make and model Expo’s bodyguards were known to drive. In less than a minute, judging from its angle, the massive thing would pull free and head toward her. It would be in perfect position to run her down, too, with nobody to stop it and no witnesses. Melanie couldn’t see in through the tinted windshield. Granted, some soccer mom from Co

There was only one small problem: To get to the only subway entrance, Melanie had to cross the street, making her a sitting duck if the Escalade came after her. She glanced over her shoulder at her darkened office building, but it was even farther away than the subway. And at this hour, if the lobby security guard took a bathroom break, you could stand there for ten minutes pounding on the locked door to no avail.

She looked back at the Escalade. It was nearly out of the space now, its massive wheels swinging toward her ominously, as if in slow motion. Shit. Run for it!

Melanie bolted into the street and raced for the subway entrance with all her strength. At the same instant, the Escalade finally escaped its parking space, tires spi

37

BUD HAD a new cell phone in a fake name, to take Jay’s incoming calls. The way things had heated up lately, you couldn’t be too careful. No point in getting caught now. He pla

The fucking thing was already ringing as he walked in the door to the apartment. He glanced at the caller ID. What a surprise-Jay’s cell. Some wa

“Yeah?” Bud said.

“Look, I think we might got a situation. I’m not sure,” Jay said, a roar of music and voices behind him. He must be at Screen.

“What?” Bud asked.

“Kid’s in here asking around about one of Whitney’s friends.”

“By name?”

“He says Carmen.”

Bud was silent for a moment.

“Well?” Jay demanded.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” He sighed. “What’s the kid look like?”

“Real freak. Pierced up the wazoo, dreads, the whole nine yards.”

Okay, him. Now Bud had a clearer picture of what was going on.

“Did he say anything else?” Bud asked.

“Yeah, actually. Wants to score some H.”

“You should really be more careful what you say over the phone, you know, Jay.”

“Far as I’m concerned, anybody listening can suck my dick.”

“Ha, ha, very fu

“What, like Friday?”

“Why not?”

“I thought you had a girl lined up.”

“It’s always good to have a fallback. This is why I was a better Boy Scout than you. Be prepared.”

“You were a fucking pansy, is what you were.”

“It was a joke, for Chrissakes. But about this pierced kid, I think we should chill out. It doesn’t mean anything, him asking around about shit. Whitney hung out at the club, maybe some of her friends did, too. So what?”

“That’s it? I coulda thought of that myself.”

“What do you want me to say? Ice the kid?”

“Nah, you’re right. That would draw u

“You bet your ass it would.”

“Were you serious, though, about Friday?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I mean, why the fuck not?”

“It’d never work! You gotta see this kid. He’s a walking advertisement for profiling.”

“What if you cut his hair?”

“He’s got a real crazy tattoo down the side of his face.”

“So? If the feds are watching, they’ll be looking for rich girls, not freaks with dreadlocks.”