US Marshall 03 - The Rapids Read Online Free PDF Page B

dawn his time. His body wanted to be in bed, asleep.
    “I’ll drop you off at your hotel,” she said. “You can get settled, and I’ll come fetch you when you want—”
    “I can make it to the embassy on my own.”
    So it was going to be that way. He wanted control. No suggestions from her. She shrugged. “Fine by me.”
    He sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound surly. Thank you for trekking me around.”
    “You asked for me. My boss gave the order.”
    “I asked if I could talk with you. I didn’t mean—”
    “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled over at him. “You’ve got me for the duration of your visit, Deputy.”
    When they arrived at his hotel, he turned down her offer to make sure his room was ready. He’d see to it. He was definitely independent. Self-sufficient. Not one who played well with others. Maggie hoped it wouldn’t become a problem. She didn’t want to bump heads with Rob Dunnemore, friend of the president.
    Thomas Kopac intercepted her when she got back to the embassy. “Rumor has it you’re escorting President Poe’s—”
    “You shouldn’t be listening to rumors.”
    “Rob Dunnemore. He’s here?”
    “He’s freshening up at his hotel. He’s a marshal. We’re not supposed to think of him as Poe’s surrogate son.”
    Kopac grinned. “Says who?”
    “Says me. Anything I can do for you? Or do I get to do a little work before Dunnemore gets here?”
    “Nothing you can do for me, Special Agent Spencer.” He leaned in toward her, adding in an amused conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll be in my office if you need a place to scream. It’s in the bowels of the building. No one’ll hear you.”
    “Very funny.”
    He laughed. “I thought so.”
    When she got back to her desk, Maggie checked her e-mail, hoping for another tip, something that would force Bremmerton to find someone else tostick Rob Dunnemore with. The guy put her nerve endings on edge. It wasn’t the Poe connection, she decided. It was the gray eyes.
    But there was nothing.
    Her mobile phone rang, almost as if it knew she was looking for distractions.
    A private number.
    “Maggie Spencer—”
    “St. John’s Cathedral is the finest example of Gothic architecture in the Netherlands.”
    The voice was male, the accent East Coast American, and the words had her sitting up straight. St. John’s was in ’s-Hertogenbosch, the same city where Dutch police had picked up Nick Janssen yesterday.
    “Who is this?”
    “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. It’s important that we talk.”
    “I understand, but I need more information—”
    “Just trust your instincts.”
    “My instincts tell me this is a crank call.”
    She thought she heard the start of a laugh. “I doubt that. Do people still call you Magster? Your father did when you were small, didn’t he?”
    Magster.
    Her stomach flip-flopped, but she warned herself that using her childhood name could just be a good guess, a way to manipulate her. It didn’t mean he knew anything about her father’s death. She couldn’t let herself think it was anything more.
    “Who are you? I need a name.”
    It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “Come alone. If you don’t, I’ll disappear, and you’ll have missed an important opportunity.”
    “An opportunity for what?”
    But he was gone, the connection dead.
    A meeting. Was the guy out of his mind?
    He must have prepared every word in advance. Of course her father called her Magster. What father with a daughter named Maggie didn’t?
    Some days she couldn’t believe it’d been eighteen months since his murder; other days, it was as if her father was more a dream than anything else, lost in a fog of memories and lost possibilities.
    Had the caller known him?
    Maggie felt a sudden rush of tears that she immediately fought back, impatient with herself.
    But Rob Dunnemore materialized behind her, startling her with his good looks. The ends of his fair hair were still damp from his shower. He hadn’t wasted any