Jo jumped up. “I can’t explain, but I needed to know about Trent.”
Melanie rose as well. “You won’t get anything else from me.” She put her hands out defensively between them. Jo looked past her to see two uniformed officers crossing the street toward the house. She didn’t wait, dashing past Melanie and into the kitchen. The cat had been sitting on the floor, and he leaped out of the way as Jo crossed to the back door.
“Stop,” Melanie yelled at her.
Jo ignored her, yanked open the door, and ran outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You’re sure?” Kline said into his phone.
The man on the other end was gruff. “Absolutely.” He spoke for a couple of minutes, finishing with, “I’ll keep you posted.” There was a suggestion in the tone.
Kline knew what that meant. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your money.”
“You bet I will. Talk to you later,” the other man said.
Kline ended the call and pocketed the phone. He had no fear of his calls being traced. The phone was clean, no way to tie it back to him, or JD. Kline stared out the windshield as he drove through the downtown streets. He barely noticed the heavy traffic, or the people out and about. He had a lot on his mind.
In the wee hours of the morning, he’d picked up JD from the woman’s apartment and driven him back to the mansion. By then, the place was long since quiet, and JD had retired to bed without a word. Kline, however, had stayed up longer, making sure everything would go smoothly, that the woman wouldn’t talk. Then he’d gone to his suite, only to have to wake up a few hours later to drive JD to the office.
Since then, his boss had been in meetings, and Kline had run some errands, and he’d kept tabs on the bank situation. Everything had seemed to be going well.
Until the phone call.
Kline drove into the Trammell Crow Center parking garage and took an elevator to forty-five. JD leased the entire floor, and the receptionist paid no mind as Kline stepped off the elevator. Everyone knew he was JD’s right-hand man, and no one asked any questions. A little fear of him went a long way, too. Kline walked a maze of hallways to a corner suite, tapped on the door, and entered. JD was on the phone, and he waved for Kline to come in.
“Yes, those figures look good,” JD was saying. “Let’s continue to pursue that.” He nodded subconsciously, then laughed. “We’ll see what the governor has to say about that. Thank you for your time.” He put down the receiver and looked at Kline. “Well?”
He strode to a leather chair across from JD’s large, mahogany desk. Taking a seat there, he stared at his boss. The room smelled strongly of air freshener. JD smoked cigars here, too, but he didn’t like the odor lingering in the air. The air freshener was just as bad, in Kline’s opinion.
“We’ve got a problem,” he announced.
He could speak freely in this room, which was decorated in a masculine style that reflected expensive taste. A bookcase held framed photos of JD with various famous people, evidence of his place in the city. There were no surveillance cameras in here, no listening devices. The room was swept every day to make sure of that.
JD leaned back in his executive chair. “What? Not something with the woman?” He looked smug.
Kline shook his head. “My contact at the police station called me. The employee from the bank is talking.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “What’s she telling them?”
“Everything. That a man contacted her who wanted information about the bank, and how he threatened her if she wouldn’t cooperate.”
“She doesn’t know who the man is?”
Kline slowly shook his head. “My guy’s not that stupid, and he’s careful. There’s no way in hell they’ll be able to figure out who he is.” He didn’t use Damek’s name. The less JD knew, the better.
JD rubbed his chin. “And no way for them to put pieces together, that it would lead to you?”
Kline ran a finger along the arm of the leather chair. “No. You have no worries about that.”
“And there’s no way anyone could have known what was in the safety deposit box?”
Kline shook his head. “Not unless he told somebody what he put in there.”
“How would we know that?” JD asked.
“We don’t. But they took stuff from several boxes to cover their tracks.”
“They’ll think the thieves were interested in jewels or other valuables,” JD said.
Kline nodded. They’d gone over this when he discussed the plan with his boss. Damek had talked about stealing everything from all the boxes, but they’d decided there was too much risk in that, too much time in the bank. But what Damek had done should work, should throw the police off course. Plus, he wouldn’t have stolen anything else that would draw unwanted attention to him, or to anyone else. That man was exceedingly careful.
He had reason to be. Kline had threats of his own for him and his associates. They would never roll over, never divulge anything about Kline or the bank operation. If they did, they’d be dead, and so would all their families.
JD suddenly slapped his palm on the desk and swore again. “This had better go according to plan.” He jabbed a finger at his desk phone. “I was just on the phone with a political contact. Everything is going smoothly, and I won’t see all I’ve worked for destroyed now.”
Kline cleared his throat. “May I suggest that your other . . . activities slow down?”
JD stood up and went to a window, where he could see other buildings. He put his hands on his hips and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turned around.
“It’s been a long time since I did anything.”
“Until lately,” Kline said.
“I couldn’t resist last night,” JD went on. “When the pressure builds, you know, it’s hard for me to stop.”
“It’s getting harder to keep things secret.”
