“Or?”
“Or she’s a damn good con.”
“She would have learned from the master.”
“That’s what I can’t discount,” he said, no joy in his tone. “So, tomorrow morning, you and Mike will deliver her to Rudkowski.”
“Where will you be?”
“Making myself scarce.”
Gif shook his head. “Drex—”
“Don’t start, Gif. If I get anywhere near him, I had just as well cut off my dick now and deny him the pleasure.”
Gif’s silence indicated that he concurred. “What about Mike and me? What do you want us to do after dropping her off?”
“Has to be your decision, and each of you has to make up his own mind, independent of the other and me. I can’t ask you, nor do I expect you, to stick with me on this. You know the shit storm this is going to raise. Don’t underestimate Rudkowski. We did before.”
“This isn’t like that.”
“No, it’s worse. Sleep on it. Sleep on it good.” He pushed away from the counter and moved toward the door.
“Drex?”
He came back around.
“While Mike and I contemplate whether or not to stick with you or throw ourselves on Rudkowski’s mercy, it would help if we knew how you were going to deal with her if it turns out that she’s her husband’s partner in crime.”
The question was an insult. Damned if he was going to answer. “Mike will relieve you in a couple of hours.”
The following morning when Talia entered the kitchen, the three men were gathered around the dining table, so deep into their discussion that she’d been there for a while before they noticed her.
When they did, they fell silent and stared, no doubt taken aback by her appearance. She’d pulled a robe on over her pajamas, but hadn’t taken the time to groom herself before coming down.
Gif pushed back his chair and stood. “Good morning. Can I get you some coffee?”
The aroma of freshly ground beans was thick in the room, as was the yeasty scent of doughnuts. A box of them was in the center of the table. Gif nudged it in her general direction.
“Mike went out for them,” he said. “Help yourself.”
Disregarding Gif’s offers, she walked straight to the table and thumped the thick file in front of Drex, nearly upsetting the cup of coffee in front of him. “I couldn’t sleep, so I followed your suggestion to do some light reading.”
He reached for the back of the chair that Gif had vacated and motioned her into it. “Get her some coffee, please, Gif.”
She sat down in the proffered chair, not having taken her eyes off Drex since she’d come into the room. There were dark crescents under his eyes. He hadn’t slept, either.
Gif set a cup of coffee within her reach, asked if she needed anything to go in it, and she shook her head. Drex took a chocolate-covered doughnut from the box, placed it on a paper napkin, and slid it over to her.
Ignoring the coffee and doughnut, she gestured at the bulging file. “You believe that Jasper had something to do with these women who went missing?”
He folded his forearms on the table, leaned upon them, and talked for half an hour virtually uninterrupted. Occasionally he asked Mike to verify a date or place. Gif elaborated when invited to. Otherwise, her attention stayed riveted on Drex, and his on her.
“He made himself fit into the lifestyle of an oil heiress in Tulsa. By those who knew Pixie, Herb Watkins was described as having short black hair, a goatee, and liked Native American art, for which Pixie had a passion.
“For Marian, he adopted frizzy hair, probably permed, because he knew it would be reminiscent of her hippie stage and that she would find that appealing.
“Then he spotted you at her party. Learned you were very well off. Saw you as a prospect. Through Marian and his own research, he learned everything he could about you. He probably followed you, Talia. Logged where you went, where you ate, what you drank, where you shopped.