The Planck Factor

The line went dead.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jessica

It felt like an eon had passed before I closed the phone and put it down. The last thing I wanted was for Liz to get involved in this. She had nothing to do with it—whatever it was.

The threat was clearly intended to intimidate me. It worked. I planned our meeting. Assuming the caller was a man, I should pick a public place with lots of people around. Navy Memorial. I’d met Liz there for lunch a couple of times. There was a Metro stop close by an amphitheater of steps arranged around a fountain where people gathered for lunch.

The phone rang and I jumped. That hadn’t been ten minutes. The caller ID showed that it was Liz. My finger wavered over the button, until the fourth ring when I pushed it.

“Hey, you,” Liz said, sounding carefree, almost giddy. Not like someone who’d discovered her sister was sought for questioning in a murder. “I’m just heading out to lunch. Want to join me?”

“I’m . . . feeling a bit tired, actually. And I’m making progress on my book.” I winced after saying that. Why did I mention the book? Now she’s going to think the book’s more important than she is. “How about tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Liz seemed unfazed. “I’m forgetting you just flew in last night. The time zone adjustment and all.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling uncertain about the difference two hours would make to a person’s internal clock.

Liz jabbered on about where we could go for dinner and places we could see. I kept glancing at the clock. It was coming up on ten minutes.

“Well,” Liz said, probably sensing my distraction. “Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Right.”

I snapped the phone shut, clutching it like a talisman, waiting for the promised callback. Ten minutes arrived. No call. Twelve minutes. Nothing. What kind of threatening anonymous caller are you, anyway?

At thirteen

minutes, I set the phone aside and tried to concentrate on reviewing my story again. Not easy, especially since I’d written that Alexis would give Swede the slip and reserve a last-minute flight to New York to see her sister. She’d book the flight online, of course—the resemblance to my life was getting eerie.

Despite my anxiety, I realized I should probably stop for lunch. Getting stressed out takes lots of energy, making me tend to crave food. I was considering my lunch options, when the phone rang. Private caller.

I answered by saying, “That was a long ten minutes.”

“Jessica, have you thought about what I said?”

“Yes. I’ll meet you at the Navy Memorial.”

“I was thinking of . . . something more private.”

“No way. You’ve been calling the shots so far. I get to pick the meeting place.”

I expected more of a protest, but the caller just said, “All right. Just be careful.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Joe

Cotter and Billy had rented a car—not quite as suitable for their needs as a van, but the budget on this job was getting tighter by the moment. They chose a bland gray midsized vehicle—not anything too cop-like, but not too showy either.

As Cotter eased the car into a tight parking spot down the street from Liz’s place, he wondered if a compact car would have been a wiser choice.

But he managed to back into the spot with little fuss, not even bumping the curb. With a satisfied sigh, Cotter said, “Now we wait.”

Billy nodded amiably. Both men stared down the street toward Liz’s building.

They were prepared for a long haul. They’d bought sandwiches for lunch and plenty of bottled water.