Tina Whittle_Tai Randall Mystery 01 by The Dangerous Edge of Things Page B
Authors: The Dangerous Edge of Things
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until Cobb County coughed up my carry permit, it remained in the shop, untested.
I put it back in the safe and prepared to return to the Ritz, hoping I wouldn’t run into Trey there. As long as my tote bag contained his MRI, I knew guilt blazed across my forehead. But until I could come up with a plan, its plush bubble of security was best, at least for the night.
A plan, yes, one that was smart and flexible and included strategies for dealing with a human lie detector. An action plan. Because I knew the first part of my strategy had to include a face-to-face with Mr. Seaver.
Chapter 9
As it turned out, Trey wasn’t at the Ritz. I didn’t find him until the next morning, when I showed up at Phoenix. Yvonne escorted me to a different room this time.
“In there?” I said. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, then handed me a new VISITOR pass. Her eyes glittered sharply. “Don’t lose this one. And leave that here.”
I gave her the Krispy Kreme bag—it only had a tiny greasy scrap of donut left inside anyway—and stepped into the room. Yvonne closed the door behind me. It was dark and narrow, with a bright projection screen at one end. There I saw Trey silhouetted against the clear white light, standing with his back to me. He had a gun, but I knew from his lack of protective gear that it wasn’t a real one. His attention was concentrated on a body target projected on the screen.
I felt a little thrill from knowing what this was—a training simulation room, and a fine one at that. All Bluetooth technology, no wire or tethers to destroy the illusion that you were pumping hot lead into someone. Such set-ups were all the rage, my gun aficionado magazines reported, and very very expensive.
Trey pulled the trigger three times fast, and the gun kicked in his hands. He lowered it and examined the results—a definite kill shot, with nice tight grouping.
I moved beside him and clapped softly. Trey kept his eyes on the target. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
“I accidentally took this with me yesterday,” I said, pulling the MRI from my bag and handing it to him. I’d spiffed it up with a new manila folder, to show that even though I might be a thief, I was a conscientious one.
Trey gave it a quick glance, then looked at me, hard. “How did you get this?”
“I could tell you I was looking for a pen, but you’d know that was a lie, wouldn’t you?”
He placed the folder on the table and picked up the gun again. His eyes never left the target.
“I saw Garrity yesterday,” I said. “He explained some things.”
Still no reply. No reaction.
“Like that you really can tell if people are lying. Micro-emotive readings, he said. Is that true?”
He sighted along the barrel. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
He fired off one more shot, then turned to face me. His eyes met mine, moving to my mouth and lingering there before meeting my gaze again. It reminded me of how he’d looked at me the night we’d met, at the Ritz, and I realized he’d been sizing me up even then.
Say it again, he’d said.
Say what?
That you’re not a murderer.
I made my expression as blank as possible. “I have mace in my tote bag. I had pancakes for breakfast. Which is the lie?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “The second one.”
“Okay, that was too easy. Do it again. I was elected prom queen in high school. I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“Both of those are lies.”
“How about this one, true or false?” I took one step closer, just enough to breach his personal space. “I don’t usually let strange men escort me to my hotel room.”
He tilted his head, then shook it slowly. “Technically true, but deliberately evasive.”
I decided it was as accurate a judgment as any. Which meant I was going to have to be real careful with this man. I gestured toward the gun in his hand. “Can I have a try? Or is that against some rule?”
“There no rule about that.”
He handed over the gun and stepped back. It was a Glock,
I put it back in the safe and prepared to return to the Ritz, hoping I wouldn’t run into Trey there. As long as my tote bag contained his MRI, I knew guilt blazed across my forehead. But until I could come up with a plan, its plush bubble of security was best, at least for the night.
A plan, yes, one that was smart and flexible and included strategies for dealing with a human lie detector. An action plan. Because I knew the first part of my strategy had to include a face-to-face with Mr. Seaver.
Chapter 9
As it turned out, Trey wasn’t at the Ritz. I didn’t find him until the next morning, when I showed up at Phoenix. Yvonne escorted me to a different room this time.
“In there?” I said. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, then handed me a new VISITOR pass. Her eyes glittered sharply. “Don’t lose this one. And leave that here.”
I gave her the Krispy Kreme bag—it only had a tiny greasy scrap of donut left inside anyway—and stepped into the room. Yvonne closed the door behind me. It was dark and narrow, with a bright projection screen at one end. There I saw Trey silhouetted against the clear white light, standing with his back to me. He had a gun, but I knew from his lack of protective gear that it wasn’t a real one. His attention was concentrated on a body target projected on the screen.
I felt a little thrill from knowing what this was—a training simulation room, and a fine one at that. All Bluetooth technology, no wire or tethers to destroy the illusion that you were pumping hot lead into someone. Such set-ups were all the rage, my gun aficionado magazines reported, and very very expensive.
Trey pulled the trigger three times fast, and the gun kicked in his hands. He lowered it and examined the results—a definite kill shot, with nice tight grouping.
I moved beside him and clapped softly. Trey kept his eyes on the target. He wasn’t going to make this easy.
“I accidentally took this with me yesterday,” I said, pulling the MRI from my bag and handing it to him. I’d spiffed it up with a new manila folder, to show that even though I might be a thief, I was a conscientious one.
Trey gave it a quick glance, then looked at me, hard. “How did you get this?”
“I could tell you I was looking for a pen, but you’d know that was a lie, wouldn’t you?”
He placed the folder on the table and picked up the gun again. His eyes never left the target.
“I saw Garrity yesterday,” I said. “He explained some things.”
Still no reply. No reaction.
“Like that you really can tell if people are lying. Micro-emotive readings, he said. Is that true?”
He sighted along the barrel. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
He fired off one more shot, then turned to face me. His eyes met mine, moving to my mouth and lingering there before meeting my gaze again. It reminded me of how he’d looked at me the night we’d met, at the Ritz, and I realized he’d been sizing me up even then.
Say it again, he’d said.
Say what?
That you’re not a murderer.
I made my expression as blank as possible. “I have mace in my tote bag. I had pancakes for breakfast. Which is the lie?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “The second one.”
“Okay, that was too easy. Do it again. I was elected prom queen in high school. I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“Both of those are lies.”
“How about this one, true or false?” I took one step closer, just enough to breach his personal space. “I don’t usually let strange men escort me to my hotel room.”
He tilted his head, then shook it slowly. “Technically true, but deliberately evasive.”
I decided it was as accurate a judgment as any. Which meant I was going to have to be real careful with this man. I gestured toward the gun in his hand. “Can I have a try? Or is that against some rule?”
“There no rule about that.”
He handed over the gun and stepped back. It was a Glock,
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