Outfox Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Sandra Brown Management, Ltd.

  Cover design by Phil Pascuzzo

  Cover photos by Tom Chance/Alamy Stock Photos (sky) and Eve Livesey/Getty Images (shoreline)

  Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  Grand Central Publishing

  Hachette Book Group

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  First Edition: August 2019

  Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication data has been applied for.

  ISBNs: 978-1-4555-7219-9 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-5108-4 (hardcover), 978-1-4555-7217-5 (ebook), 978-1-4555-7218-2 (large print), 978-1-5387-1638-0 (signed edition), 978-1-5387-1639-7 (signed edition)

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

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  Prologue

  A cheerless drizzle blurred any view of the body on the beach.

  Mist formed halos around the lampposts along the pier, but didn’t diffuse the glaring portable lights that had been put in place by first responders. In a grotesque parody of catching someone in the spotlight on center stage, they shone a harsh light on the covered form.

  A police helicopter swept in low. Its searchlight was unforgivingly bright as it tracked the length of the pier. Its beam skittered over the marina where boats rocked in a lulling current that was out of keeping with the surrounding chaos.

  Before shifting out onto the surf, the searchlight cut a swath across the corpse. The chopper’s downwash flipped back a corner of the garish yellow plastic sheet to expose a hand, inert and bone-white on the packed sand.

  Since the discovery of the body, officers representing several law enforcement agencies had converged on the scene. The colored lights of a search-and-rescue helicopter blinked against the underbelly of low clouds hugging the harbor. Beyond Fort Sumter, a US Coast Guard cruiser plowed through the waters of the Atlantic, its searchlight sweeping across the swells.

  TV satellite vans had arrived, disgorging eager reporters and camera crews.

  On the pier, the inevitable onlookers had congregated. They vied for the best vantage points from which to gawk at the body, monitor the police and media activity, and take selfies with the draped corpse in the background. They swapped information and speculation.

  It was said that the deceased had washed ashore with the evening tide and had been discovered by a man and his young son while they were exercising their chocolate Lab on this stretch of beach.

  It was said that drowning was the obvious cause of death.

  It was said that it was the result of a boating mishap.

  None of these conjectures was correct.

  The unleashed Labrador had run ahead of his owner, and it was the dog, splashing in the surf, that had made the gruesome discovery.

  One of the spectators on the pier, overhearing the exchanges of facts, fictions, and laments, smiled in self-satisfied silence.

  Chapter 1

  Three weeks earlier

  The automatic doors whooshed open. In one surveying glance, Drex Easton took in the hotel lobby. It was empty except for the pretty young woman behind the reception desk. She had a porcelain-doll complexion, a glossy black ponytail, and an uncertain smile as she greeted him.

  “Good morning, sir. Can I help you?”

  Drex set his briefcase at his feet. “I don’t have a reservation, but I need a room.”

  “Check-in isn’t until two o’clock.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Because…because for the convenience of our guests, checkout isn’t until noon.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Housekeeping needs time to—”

  “I realize all that, Ms. Li.” He’d read the name badge pinned to her maroon blazer. He smiled. “I was hoping you could make an exception for me.”

  He reached behind his back to remove a wallet from his pants pocket and, in doing so, spread open his suit jacket wide enough to reveal the shoulder holster beneath his left arm. Upon seeing it, the young woman blinked several times before rapidly shifting her gaze back up to his, which he held steady on her.

  “No cause for alarm,” he said quietly. He flipped open the wallet that contained a badge and photo ID that classified him as a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  He didn’t like to overplay this card, doing so only when he needed a shortcut through rules and red tape. It worked on Ms. Li, who was automatically willing to please.

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  “I would consider it a big favor.”

  Graceful fingers pecked across her keyboard. “Single or double?”

  “I’m not picky.”

  Her eyes scanned the computer monitor. She scrolled down, then back up. “I can have housekeeping service a nice double room for you right away, but the turnaround could take up to half an hour. Or, there’s a less nice single available now.”

  “I’ll take the less nice single available now.” He slid a credit card across the granite counter.

  “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Easton?”

  She was no slouch. She’d noted his name. “I’m not sure. Two other…Two associates of mine will be arriving shortly. I won’t know how long I’ll be staying until after our meeting. I’ll have to let you know then.”

  “No problem. You may keep the room until you notify me of your departure.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  She ran his credit card and proceeded to check him in. She
had him initial the room rate on the form and sign his name at the bottom; then she returned his credit card along with the room key card. “That key also unlocks the door to the fitness center on the second floor.”

  “Thanks, but I won’t be using it.”

  “The restaurant is just down the corridor behind you. Breakfast is served—”

  “No breakfast, either.” He bent down and picked up his briefcase.

  Taking the subtle hint, she pointed him toward the elevators. “As you step off onto your floor, your room will be to your left.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Li. You’ve been a huge help.”

  “When your associates arrive, am I at liberty to give them your room number?”

  “No need, I’ll text it to them. They can come straight up.”

  “I hope your meeting goes well.”

  He gave her a wry grin. “So do I.” Then he leaned forward and said in an undertone, “Relax, Ms. Li. You’re doing a fine job.”

  She looked chagrined. “This is only my second day. Were my nerves that obvious?”

  “Probably not to anyone else, but sizing people up quickly is a large part of what I do. And if this is only your second day, I’m even more impressed with how you handled a troublesome guest.”

  “Not that troublesome at all.”

  He gave her a lazy smile. “You caught me on a good day.”

  The less nice single wasn’t a room the hotel chain would feature in an ad, but it would do. Drex opened his briefcase on the desk and booted up his laptop. He texted Mike the room number, then went over to the window. It afforded a fourth floor view of a freeway interchange and not much else.

  He returned to the desk and checked his email in box. Nothing of importance. He went into the compact bathroom and used the toilet. As he came out, the hotel telephone was ringing. He picked up the extension on the desk. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Easton?”

  “Ms. Li.”

  “Your associates are here.”

  “Good.” Sooner than he’d expected.

  “Would you like for me to send something from the kitchen up to your room? Perhaps a fruit platter? A selection of pastries?”

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call down.”

  “I’ll do that, Ms. Li. Thanks again for accommodating me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Although the open drapes let in plenty of daylight, he switched on the desk lamp. He adjusted the thermostat down a few degrees. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser and thought he looked presentable, but hardly spiffy. He’d showered and dressed in a rush.

  At the soft knock, he went to the door and looked through the peephole before opening it. He stood aside and motioned the two men to come in.

  As they filed past him, Gifford Lewis said, “The girl at the desk stopped us to ask if we were Mr. Easton’s associates. She’s moony for you.”

  “Anything Mr. Easton wants,” Mike Mallory grumbled. “As long as she was offering, I could have done with the fruit platter and pastry selection. You could still call down.”

  Out of habit, Drex checked the hallway—which was empty—then shut the door and flipped the bolt. “You wake me up at dawn, say, ‘Find a place where the walls don’t have ears.’ And don’t waste any time doing it, you said. I don’t waste any time, I find a place, and here we are. Never mind the fruit platter and pastries. What’s up?”

  The other two looked at each other, but neither replied.

  With impatience, Drex asked, “What’s so top secret we couldn’t communicate through ordinary channels?”

  Gif stationed himself against the wall, a shoulder propping him there. Mike rolled the chair from beneath the desk and wedged his three hundred forty pounds between the protesting armrests.

  Drex placed his hands on his hips, his expression demanding. “For crissake, will one of you speak?”

  Mike glanced over at Gif, who made a gesture that yielded the floor to Mike. He looked up at Drex and said, “I’ve found him.”

  Mike’s tone conveyed all the gaiety of a death knell. The him didn’t need specification.

  For years Drex had been waiting to hear those words. He’d imagined this moment ten thousand times. He’d envisioned himself experiencing one or more physical reactions. His ears would ring, his mouth go dry, his knees buckle, his breath catch, his heart burst.

  Instead, after his hands dropped from his hips, he went numb to a supernatural extent.

  Gif and Mike must have expected an eruption of some sort, too, because they looked mystified over his sudden and absolute immobility and silence, which were downright eerie, even to himself.

  A full minute later, when the paralyzing shock began to wear off, he walked over to the window again. Since last he’d looked out, nothing cataclysmic had occurred. Traffic hadn’t stilled on the crisscrossing freeways. No jagged cracks had opened up in the earth’s surface. The sky hadn’t fallen. The sun hadn’t burned out.

  He pressed his forehead against the window and was surprised by how cold the glass felt. “You’re sure?”

  “Sure? As in positive? No,” Mike replied. “But this guy looks real good on paper.”

  “Age?”

  “Sixty-two. So says his current driver’s license.”

  Drex turned his head and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

  “South Carolina,” Mike said. “Mount Pleasant. Suburb of—”

  “Charleston. I know. What name is he going by?”

  “Un-huh.”

  That brought Drex all the way around. “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

  Gif said, “Means that you’re not getting a name until we know what you plan to do with the information.”

  “What the hell do you think I plan to do with it? First thing is to haul ass to Charleston.”

  Gif exchanged a look with Mike, then pushed himself away from the wall and squared off against Drex. He didn’t take a combative stance, which would have been laughable because Drex was physically imposing and Gif was nowhere near. But he set his feet apart and braced himself as though Drex’s self-restraint was iffy and reasonableness was way too much to hope for.

  He said, “Hear me out, Drex. Mike and I talked about it on our way over here. We think you should consider…That is, it would be advisable to…The smart course of action would be to—”

  “What?”

  “Notify Rudkowski.”

  “Not a fucking chance in hell.”

  “Drex—”

  Louder and with more emphasis, Drex repeated his statement.

  Mike shot Gif a droll glance. “Told ya.”

  Drex’s ears had begun to clamor after all. Now that the reality was setting in, his blood pressure had spiked. The window glass had felt cold against his forehead because his face was feverish. The blood vessels in his temples were throbbing. His scalp was sweaty beneath his hair. His torso had gone clammy.

  He pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the bed, wrestled off the shoulder holster and dropped it on top of his jacket, loosened the knot of his necktie, and unbuttoned his collar, all as though he were preparing for a sparring match, which, if necessary, this argument might result in.

  Willing himself to at least sound composed, he asked again, “What name is he using?”

  “Assuming it’s him,” Mike said.

  “You assume it’s him, or you wouldn’t have suggested this secret meeting. Tell me what you have on him, starting with his name.”

  “No name.”

  Mike Mallory was an all-star when it came to excavating information from a computer, but a people person he wasn’t. He harbored a general contempt for his fellow man, considering most to be complete morons, Drex and Gif being the only possible exceptions.

  He was so good at what he did that Drex put up with his truculent attitude and lack of social graces, but right now he muttered an epithet that encompassed both Mike and Gif, who, on this p
oint, had taken Mike’s side.

  “Fine,” Mike said, “call us nasty names. We’re thinking in your best interest.”

  “I’ll think for myself, thank you.”

  “After you hear everything, you may decide against taking matters into your own hands.”

  “I won’t.”

  Mike shrugged. “Then it’ll be your funeral. But I’m not digging your grave, and I’m sure as hell not climbing in with you. Fair warning.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll find out his frigging name myself. Just put me on the right track.”

  Mike nodded. “That I’ll do. Because I don’t want him to get away, either. If it’s him.”

  Drex backed down a bit and rolled his shoulders, forcing them to relax. “Does the mystery man hold a job?”

  “Nothing I could find,” Mike said, “but he lives well.”

  “I’ll bet,” Drex said under his breath. “How long has he been in Mount Pleasant?”

  “I don’t have that yet. He’s lived at his current residence for ten months.”

  “What kind of residence?”

  “House.”

  “Leased?”

  “Purchased.”

  “Mortgaged?”

  “If so, I couldn’t find it.”

  “Cash purchase, then.”

  Mike raised his beefy shoulders in an unspoken I guess.

  Gif speculated that maybe the property had been inherited, but none of them really thought that, so no one pursued it.

  Drex asked, “What’s the place like?”

  “Based on the real estate listing, it was pre-owned, not new,” Mike said. “But an established neighborhood. Upscale.”

  “Price?”

  “Million and a half and change. Looks spacious and well kept on Google Earth. It’s all on here.” Mike groped beneath his overlap for his pants pocket and produced a thumb drive.

  Drex took it from him.

  “Won’t do you any good without the password, and you’re not getting it till we’ve talked this out.”

  Drex scoffed. “I can get the password cracked. When applied to you, the word geek sounds ludicrous, but you’re not the only computer geek around, you know.”

  Mike raised his hands. “Be my guest. Get a geek to go digging. But if you’re found out, how are you going to explain your interest in this seemingly law-abiding citizen?”