Page 31 of Outsider

“She’s always had a good poker face.”

“Maybe a little too good,” he says. “Can she be trusted?”

It’s the million-dollar question. A complex and deeply personal one that’s hounded me since the moment I laid eyes on her. A question I can no longer avoid. The years I spent with her, the friendship we shared, flashes unbidden in my mind’s eye. All of it is tempered by the things I know about her now, the things I would have done differently, the way our friendship ended, and I realize that my uncertainty is an answer unto itself.

“I don’t think we’re getting the whole story,” I say after a moment.

“I guess that’s a good enough answer for now.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Do me a favor and watch your back, will you?”

I try to smile, but my lips don’t quite manage. “Tomasetti, I don’t believe she’s a danger to me or anyone else.”

He holds my gaze, saying nothing. The silence between us is nearly as loud as the storm outside.

CHAPTER 9

Downtown Columbus looked like some postapocalyptic wasteland when Ken Mercer pulled into the lot on North Ludlow and parked. Usually, at this time of day the lot was full. With the storm bearing down and a blizzard warning in effect, a dedicated few had shown up for work. The smart ones had already gone home. He sat for a few minutes, engine running, using the time to check email and texts on his cell, the din of the wipers and the scratch of his police radio filling the silence. Mostly, he thought about Gina Colorosa.

He’d always known she was a wild card. She was fun-loving and unpredictable with just enough kink to keep the hook sunk in deep. Yes, she was a good-looking woman—in a carnival-gypsy sort of way, anyway. But there was so much more to her, and every single element appealed to him in ways he didn’t quite have a handle on. She was a magnet for trouble, an adrenaline junkie, and she considered danger the greatest aphrodisiac of all time. She was loyal when it suited her, a fighter when cornered, and had the sex drive of a feral cat. It was a combination Mercer couldn’t resist despite his best efforts, and for over two years now he hadn’t been able to get enough.

The first time he’d been with her was after hours—in the men’s room at Police Substation 19, down on Sullivant. The next time had been in the back seat of his cruiser when they’d both been on duty and yards away from an active crime scene. Once, she’d had the audacity to show up at his house. Had he done the right thing and told her to hit the road? He could no more have done that than he could slit his own throat. Gina Colorosa was not conducive to his doing the right thing. And so while his wife put the finishing touches on her chicken piccata, he’d sneaked out to the detached garage, bent Colorosa over the hood of the Corvette he was restoring, and fucked her until neither of them could see straight.

Not for the first time, he worried that he was in too deep. For nearly three years, he’d jeopardized his job. His marriage. His family. His reputation. For what? Sex? The knowledge that he’d gotten away with something he shouldn’t have?

He hadn’t been with her for almost a month now. It felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t much cared for her putting him off. He tried to convince himself he didn’t give a damn. That he was immune to emotional attachments. He sure as hell wasn’t the needy type. He was married, for God’s sake; he actually liked his wife. No, Ken Mercer didn’t get sucked into anything he didn’t want to get sucked into. Yet here he was, parked behind the Columbus Division of Police headquarters with a hard-on, wondering if he still had Gina’s throw-down number in his phone or if she’d pick up if he called.…

Cursing beneath his breath, Mercer shifted in the seat and glanced out the window. Beyond, the snow was coming down so hard he couldn’t see the building across the street. Bertrand didn’t know he’d been sleeping with Colorosa. No one did. Mercer intended to keep it that way. The last thing he needed was Bertrand wondering about his loyalties—something he didn’t want to examine too closely himself.

The question he faced now was how to best handle the situation. Bertrand was on the warpath. He wanted Colorosa drawn and quartered, the sooner the better. In all honestly Mercer did, too. He didn’t want her spilling secrets. He sure as hell didn’t want his wife to know he’d been sleeping around. The problem was he knew more than he was letting on. Not only about Colorosa, but where she might be heading. The key, he decided, was to use that knowledge to his benefit without letting on he’d known all along.

He was reaching for his cell to check messages again when Bertrand’s Subaru Outback rolled up beside him. Hitting the door locks, he waited for the other man to join him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bertrand said as he slid onto the passenger seat. “Fuckin’ snow.”

“Yeah, well, I got a pot of chili waiting for me at home so make it quick. You said it was important.”

“I heard from the lab. They matched the blood found in the alley. It’s Colorosa’s.”

“So we winged her.”

“Looks that way.”

Mercer thought about that, didn’t let himself acknowledge the fact that it left a sour taste in his mouth. “What else?”

“Her cell phone provider—one of them, anyway—came through. We’re looking to identify every number, incoming and outgoing, in the last six weeks.”

The sour taste went bitter. “Might help,” Mercer said.

“Get this,” Bertrand said. “The last ping they got was on a tower in Fallsbury Township in Licking County.”

“Licking County?” Assuming a puzzled countenance, Mercer scratched his head. “There’s not much out that way.”

“We doubled down on known associates. She’s got a brother in Dayton, which is west. He says he hasn’t seen her in a couple of years. I got someone on the way to talk to him in person. No other family that we know of.”

Mercer looked out the window, watched a woman with a grocery cart full of bags and aluminum cans disappear into the alley at the back of the lot. He thought about Gina. He thought about known associates and the other name that came to mind. Another woman he’d been quite fond of once upon a time.

“My guess is she reached Interstate 70 eastbound,” Mercer said.

“The interstate is too far south to hit a tower in Fallsbury Township.” Bertrand shook his head. “Why the hell is she heading east, which is basically out in the middle of nowhere?”