Murder.com (29 page)

Ahmed turned up on Al Jazeera's website.
Just a few mentions about him hiding out in Pakistan. Who didn't
hide out there? I couldn't find much and toyed with hacking into
the CIA's mainframe. But I didn't want to deal with the hassle if I
was found out. And it might make me look guilty. I closed the
laptop and shoved it aside in disgust.

I didn't have any access to agency resources
anymore. If I was going to find out what happened before another
dead body turned up, I'd have to do it on my own. And I was pretty
sure that there would be another body, because if someone wanted to
frame me, they'd have to do a lot more than this.

So, who hated me enough? I got my pad of
paper and made a list. After I got to thirty five, I called it
quits. Spies have lots of enemies in lots of places. It wasn't
unusual. And I had been PNGed out of the agency. Even with my
blonde hair and blue eyes now, if someone really wanted to find me,
they probably could.

Which pissed me off. I was mostly off the
grid now. I had zero presence on social media and an unlisted cell
phone number. Kelly knew about me, but she wouldn't tell anyone
because I'd threatened her with some blackmail I had from the ninth
grade. Considering that her parents never did find out who burned
down the garage because a certain
someone
was smoking
something
, I was fairly confident she didn't want that to
get out.

My parents wouldn't tell anyone. They tended
to be a tad protective of me after what I'd gone through. So who
knew I was here? It was frustrating. Oh, I know it takes time to
find these things out, and I used to have patience in the field.
But since "retiring" I was a bit less so. Okay, I was completely
impatient. Two people in front of me at the grocery store usually
set me off these days. When I want my Oreos—I want them NOW.

Great. Now I wanted Oreos. I grabbed my
purse and keys and headed for the store. In all honesty—I wasn't a
great shopper. Kelly told me she goes to the store once a week. I
go every other day. I'm not very good about stocking up on stuff. I
guess that comes from living on the fly and picking up a baguette
here or candy bar there. (By the way—
never
,
ever
buy
a candy bar in Uruguay.) I should probably learn how to cook and
shop and that kind of thing. It wasn't like I didn't have time.

This time I bought TWO packages of Oreos. On
the drive home I was congratulating myself on my foresight and
thinking how this might lead to some day buying a whole quart of
milk, when I ran over a man.

That's right, I hit a man. With my car. My
driving skills aren't bad. I've driven in some real shit-holes,
usually in crappy, stick shift only cars. So watching a man roll
off my hood and onto the street in front of my car caught me by
surprise.

I slammed on the brakes and shifted into
park as I got out and ran toward the man I'd hit.
Please don't
be dead…please!
A middle-aged Latino man clawed at the air,
gasping for breath. His eyes paused on mine for a second before he
collapsed to the pavement, dead.

The police were there immediately. I was in
a fog as they shoved me aside and started CPR on the dead guy.
Another cop grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to his car. He
started asking me what happened.

"I don't know," I answered, never taking my
eyes off the dead man. "I didn't see him. He just ran out in front
of my car."

I looked around, checking my surroundings. A
group of witnesses were being questioned. I listened to hear them
say the same thing. The man wasn't there, and then he was.
Apparently to them, he also just appeared in the middle of the
street.

"Do you know him?" the officer asked me.

"No," I lied. "Never seen him before." I was
good at being interrogated. Graduated at the top of my class at The
Farm. That's the CIA finishing school in the middle of nowhere, by
the way. Anyway, I could take almost any kind of abuse. Except
water boarding. I hated water boarding. I had this thing about my
face getting wet.

The officer nodded and asked for my license
and registration. I went through the motions of handing them to
him. My brain was racing, trying to sort everything out. How did
he
get here? And why did he jump in front of my car? And
what the hell was going on?

These questions played like a broken record
over and over as I watched an ambulance take the body away. There
was a huge, bloody puddle on the ground in front of my car. I'd
seen bloodstains before. Hell, I'd even caused them a time or two.
But this was different…more sinister.

"Thanks, Ms. Wrath," the officer said. I
would've told him how much I appreciated him using the proper title
and not calling me
Mrs.
, but then I'd have to explain, and
it wasn't worth the effort. "We'll send a detective over to see you
in a few hours. You can go."

Without a word, I took back my license and
registration, got into my car, and drove the remaining four blocks
back to my house. Once inside, I locked all the doors and drew the
Dora sheet across the length of the window. I paced the kitchen
while eating an entire package of Oreos. Thank God I'd bought
two.

I picked up the cell phone and dialed.

He answered on the first ring. "Finn?"

"You'd better come over. I just ran over
Carlos the Armadillo. He's dead."

There was a measured silence on the other
end before he replied, "I'll be there in five minutes."

MERIT BADGE MURDER

Merry Wrath Mysteries book #1

available now!

Also available:

Mint Cookie Murder

(Merry Wrath Mysteries book #2)