Nemesis Read Free Page B

thing I can do now, if the extortion calls come in on your landline.”
    â€œThey do, yes. I can’t imagine how he got the number.”
    â€œDo you own a pocket tape recorder?”
    â€œWhy would you ask— Oh! To record the next call?”
    â€œThat’s right. It’s not admissible as evidence in court, but any record of a blackmail attempt is to your benefit.”
    â€œI don’t own one, no. I’ve never needed to use one.”
    â€œNot a problem.” From his briefcase Runyon removed the spare Olympus digital voice recorder and the telephone recording interface he’d brought with him. “You can borrow this one.”
    â€œWell, you come prepared, don’t you.”
    â€œAs much as possible. Where’s your phone?”
    It was on a table next to an archway into a kitchen alcove. Runyon hooked the adapter to the phone and plugged the other end of the wire into the recorder, while she stood watching in a fascinated way. “This allows both ends of the conversation to be recorded,” he said.
    â€œAnd I don’t have to do anything?”
    â€œJust turn the recorder on—this switch here—when you know it’s him. It’s voice activated.”
    She nodded, staring at the recorder and the interface as if they were curious artifacts. Not much into technology, Ms. Daniels.
    â€œOne more thing,” he said. “When he calls, threaten him with the police this time. See what kind of reaction you get. But don’t carry it too far—be careful not to antagonize him.”
    â€œOh, I’ll be careful. I’m always on my guard these days.” She tittered again. Nerves, probably.
    Runyon asked if she had any more questions. She took her time thinking about it, but not as though she were searching her mind; he had the impression she was reluctant for him to leave. But he’d been there long enough. When she said, no, no questions, he got immediately to his feet.
    At the door she gave him her hand, smiling. Let it remain clasped in his a little longer than he thought was necessary. “Thank you so much, Mr. Runyon. Or may I call you Jake?”
    â€œIf you like.”
    â€œYou don’t know how much I appreciate this, Jake. You make me feel safe for the first time since those calls started.”
    Runyon rode the elevator down with the image of her smile lingering in his mind. It hadn’t been one of relief, nor had it been impersonal. Bright, like in a dental ad on TV. Bright eyes, too. A smile and a look that were almost flirtatious. And that in retrospect struck him as oddly secretive.

 
    2
    He heard nothing more from Verity Daniels that night or Wednesday morning. No surprise there. Part of an extortionist’s MO was the silent squeeze: keep the victim dangling for a while, make them sweat. He wondered if the ploy was working on Ms. Daniels. She hadn’t seemed to be doing much sweating during the forty-five minutes they’d spent together.
    At the agency he gave Tamara a full rundown on the interview, tacking on his vague misgivings. She rubbed at red-flecked eyes with thumb and forefinger while she digested the report. She looked tired, a chronic condition lately: working too hard since the hellish events in early July that had forced Bill into his leave of absence, evidently not sleeping well. She’d been the beating heart of the agency ever since Runyon had signed on, a twenty-seven-year-old workaholic who usually thrived on the demands of the job. But the long hours, the pressure of running what was now a five-person operation after the hire of two part-time field men, and her concern for Bill’s and Kerry’s welfare, had taken a toll. He suspected she wasn’t eating much, either; she was thinner than he’d ever seen her, her round cheeks hollowed, the usually warm brown color of her skin now like chocolate diluted by too much milk.
    She needed to scale back some, hire a temp to