“Seeing someone?”
I shook my head to clear it.
Jonathan had picked her up and brought her to my apartment when I was sick. Just like it had been when Greco moved on Rinaldo, I had to consider him. Terry was always a suspect for anything, as far as I was concerned, because he was a douche.
For the next several days, I continued to drive around trying to find her. She didn’t appear to have returned to her apartment. None of the other streetwalkers were admitting to seeing her, and she didn’t come back to my place. She seemed to have disappeared completely.
I had to consider that it was all true, and the very thought sent me to the shooting range. The idea was so distasteful, I pushed it out of my tired mind, missed the bull’s-eye twice, and left in a pissier mood than when I had arrived.
I just couldn’t keep myself occupied anymore.
With no better direction, I continued to consider who knew of my relationship – however that was to be defined – with Bridgett.
Pete, the security guy in the apartment lobby – he saw her come up here to the apartment all the time. He’d been having trouble a few months ago with his wife, but I never followed up on the details. Maybe he knew something. Maybe he did something.
Why did I continue to assume she was being framed?
Because that made the most sense. If someone had seen me with her, th
en they might think they could use her to get to me. What easier way would they have than to plant the idea in someone’s head that she’s divulging information to Greco?
I also couldn’t fathom the alternative.
Bridgett wouldn’t betray me; I was sure of that. She wanted to live with me and set up house, for Christ’s sakes. She wouldn’t tell other people about my business. I never told her about shit I was doing, so there wasn’t even anything for her to tell.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I was getting a headache from the lack of sleep. I hadn’t had two hours of sleep in a row for a week, maybe more. I was starting to lose track of time a little.
I pulled out the phone logs Eddie Boy had dropped by – all paper copies instead of electronic. I couldn’t take a risk of the information being intercepted electronically. I was combing through Jonathan’s a bit more, and anytime I used my computer, he seemed to know about it. I didn’t find anything interesting or unusual at all, except that he’d been calling his dad a lot.
Focusing was becoming more difficult, and I knew it was making it harder for me to figure out what the hell was going on with Bridgett and Greco, assuming there was a connection at all. That knowledge didn’t offer me any answers, though, nor did it help me sleep.
Sleep.
“You talk in your sleep.”
“What the fuck? I do not.”
“Not often, but you have – a couple of times.”
“What if I said something when I was sleeping?”
No.
No way.
“If I talked about Iraq, I could have said anything.”
Odin snuffed at my shoe, and I realized I had been talking out loud. I reached down to rub the top of his head while my brain started forming a less-than-pleasant picture.
My eyes moved across the rooms in the apartment until they came to rest on my laptop, which I hadn’t even had time to use for surfing since all of this started. I walked over to it carefully, like I was afraid of what might happen when I opened it. As the screen refreshed, the user ID and password screen popped up with the user ID already saved.
I entered my password incorrectly.
Incorrect password! You have reached the maximum attempts, and your account is now locked. Please contact your system administrator for assistance.
There were supposed to be three attempts. Always three attempts with three warnings before the system would lock you out on the fourth try. Someone had already tried, received the message, and then stopped. Unless Odin had some opposable thumbs hidden in his shaggy fur, there was only one other person who had been in my apartment.
“Motherfucker.”