Page 18 of The Accomplice
I hadn’t realized there was someone else in the waiting area, on one of the plastic chairs on the other side of the reception door. He had his head between his knees, which explained why I hadn’t spotted him. As we approached the reception, we could only see the back of the chairs. He had dark brown, slightly curly hair and his fingers were locked together at the back of his neck, as if he were in a brace position. We sat down on the seats on the opposite side of the door. He sat up, rubbed his face and then took a moment to appraise us.
He was pale and thin, with light stubble on his cheeks. His blue shirt and black suit looked as though a larger man had slept in them and this guy had stolen them off his back that morning. The collar of the shirt was way too big, and the jacket hung off his shoulders like a tablecloth. The man looked ill, and I guessed he’d lost weight recently. His brown eyes were a different story. They were keen, and never seemed to linger very long on either Bloch, or me. They were moving over us rapidly – taking in every detail.
The side of his mouth twitched before he spoke.
‘Did I hear that right ? You’re friends of Delaney ?’ he asked.
I couldn’t place the accent. East Coast, but I couldn’t tell from where exactly.
‘That’s right. Are you a colleague ?’ I asked.
The guy didn’t look like an FBI agent, unless he was undercover.
‘I used to be,’ he said. ‘How do you know Delaney ?’
‘She helped us out on a couple of cases. And she saved my life once. Or helped save it. That counts for a lot,’ I said.
He nodded, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t satisfied.
‘You’re not a cop,’ he said to me. ‘But your friend used to be.’
Bloch shrugged.
‘My name is Eddie Flynn. I’m a lawyer and this is my investigator, Bloch.’
‘Where did you serve ?’
‘All over,’ said Bloch.
She wasn’t being rude. She was just being Bloch.
Before the man could introduce himself, an FBI agent appeared from the door behind the reception. Everything about him was neat. Tie, shirt, suit, hair. Crisp and fresh. He came around the desk, took a sideways glance at the man in the chair, but said nothing, and approached us with his hand extended in greeting.
‘Mr. Flynn, I’m Special Agent Bill Seong. We appreciate you coming down, but we can’t give out any information at this time. We acknowledge your concern and we’ll let you know more when we can, but at this moment you’d be better going home. There’s nothing you can do.’
‘We just thought we might be able to help. Bloch here is a great investigator. If you need another pair of boots on the ground—’
‘No, thank you. Bloch’s reputation speaks for itself, but we’re fine. We have every agent in the state looking—’
‘How do you know it was the Sandman who took her ?’ asked Bloch. There was no small talk with her. Straight to the jugular. Every time.
Bill paused, mid-sentence, his mouth open. His mind making calculations before he spoke.
‘That information has not been released to the public, yet.’
‘It’s all over the radio. How do you know it was him ?’ she asked, again.
I saw the man on the chair look up at Bloch with interest.
‘I can’t say, but we know it’s him for sure. And we think she’s alive, for now.’
Nodding, Bloch stood up. She was a good three inches taller than Bill.
‘Delaney is a friend of Eddie’s. He’s real concerned.’
‘She’s a friend of mine too,’ said Bill, the muscles in his jaw working.
‘Then let us help,’ said Bloch.
