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Unformatted text preview: Fairhope, waiting for word that Lance had been detained. Trudy was awake. She unbolted the front door and spoke through the chain. "What do you want?" she demanded as Cutter flashed his badge and emphasized the "FBI." She recognized him. "Can I come in?" "No." "Lance is in police custody. I think we should talk." "What!" "The Biloxi police have him." She unlocked the chain and opened the door. They stood in the foyer, facing each other. Cutter was thoroughly enjoying himself. "What's he done?" she asked. "I think he'll be released soon." "I'll call my lawyer." "Fine, but there's something I should tell you first. We have it from a good source that Lance has been trying to locate a hit man to take out your husband, Patrick Lanigan." "No!" She covered her mouth with a hand. The surprise seemed real. "Yes. And you could be implicated. It's your money Lance is trying to protect, and I'm sure you'll be considered a co-conspirator. If something happens to Lanigan, we'll come here first." "I haven't done anything." "Not yet. We're watching you very closely, Mrs. Lanigan." "Don't call me that." "Sorry." Cutter left her standing in the foyer. SANDY PARKED in a lot off Canal around midnight, and darted down Decatur and into the heart of the French Quarter. His client had lectured him sternly about security, especially when meeting Leah. Only Sandy could lead them to her, and so he must be extremely cautious. "She's in grave danger, Sandy," Patrick had told him an hour before. "You can't be too careful." He walked around one block three times, and when he was certain no one could possibly be behind him, he ducked into an open bar, where he drank a soda and watched the sidewalk. Then he walked across the street to the Royal Sonesta. He milled about the lobby with the tourists, then he rode the eleva...
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This note was uploaded on 07/18/2010 for the course LIT 301 taught by Professor Dra during the Spring '10 term at American College of Computer & Information Sciences.

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