That would mean Mitch's position would be made known to his colleagues.

"s.h.i.t."

"You'll have to tell Meg what you've been doing. I have your back on this, Mitch."

So his career might be saved, but his personal life was going to go to h.e.l.l, and fast.

They entered Maddox's town house. It was messy, but it didn't appear to have been tossed. There was no rotting food in the refrigerator-only condiments were on the shelves. Had someone come in here since the disappearance to clean it out?

"Maybe his girlfriend cleaned it out," Mitch said.

"We'll ask," Steve said. "No computer."

"There was no computer found in his Explorer."

"There was a computer here," Steve said and pointed to a printer and cables next to the desk. "Someone grabbed it. Could be Maddox took it. The windows were down in the Explorer. Maybe it floated out in the crash."

"I searched the floor of the river extensively. I would have found it. Silt builds up, but in four months it would have been visible, and it would have been too heavy to float downstream."

They searched the desk, Maddox's bedroom, kitchen, every possible hiding place for sensitive information. Nothing. Except for the empty refrigerator and the missing computer, the house seemed in order.

"So we can a.s.sume that Maddox hadn't planned to leave town," Mitch said. "He didn't stop his mail, shut off his electricity, water, anything. He may or may not have had the computer with him. He didn't say anything to his girlfriend, based on the report. The last known meeting he was supposed to have had was with his advisor, Don Collier, who said he didn't see Oliver Monday morning when they were to meet. If we a.s.sume that he is telling the truth, we can't account for Maddox's whereabouts from 5:30 p.m. Sunday-when his neighbor saw the Explorer leaving. If he didn't show up for the meeting with his advisor, he was probably already in the river."

"Why Isleton?" Steve asked. "There're maybe a thousand people living there. A bar, a restaurant, not much else."

"The way his Explorer was facing, he was heading from Isleton when he went under. On his way from meeting someone possibly? If so, we just need to figure out who."

"That's the million-dollar question." Steve shook his head as he gave the place one more glance. "There's nothing here."

"Do we have his phone records yet?"

"Yeah, I have them in the car."

"Let's find out the last person he spoke with," Mitch said. "Looks like the only evidence we have is Oliver's stomach contents."

"If we can get anything off the flash drive."

"Think of this, Steve," Mitch said. "Why would he swallow something like a flash drive unless he was desperate and thought that was the only way to save valuable information?"

"Maybe he was hungry," Steve said lightly.

"Hungry for the truth."

Jeffrey had known Hamilton since they met rushing the same fraternity. And for all those years, Hamilton had held over his head all the times he'd saved his a.s.s. Whiny Richie jumped on that same bandwagon, pointing to all the money he made them and laundered to fund Jeffrey's political campaigns.

Now, Jeffrey was in the position of saving the day, and he would make sure his longtime friends knew it.

"It's all coming undone," Hamilton said over the phone. "I had a flag on the O'Brien file at archives. And guess who just pulled them? Claire O'Brien!"

"I told you we should have taken care of her a long time ago."

"If O'Brien was dead, this wouldn't even be an issue," Hamilton snapped.

"That was your job. You're the one who's tight with all the lawyers and judges and prison wardens."

While listening to Hamilton rant, Jeffrey watched the pretty young campaign intern finger-f.u.c.k herself like he had commanded. They were in his hotel room between appointments with big money donors. Jeffrey was furious that Hamilton had called during the short time he had to play, even though he reluctantly admitted that the situation in Sacramento was getting out of control. The fact that someone had found Oliver Maddox's body was unfortunate. But there was still nothing to tie Maddox back to them. They just needed to keep their cool.

"-and then there's Harper," Hamilton was saying. "Jeffrey, are you listening?"

"Of course."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes," he lied smoothly. He watched Julie turn herself on. He was fully clothed, of course. He didn't have time to go through the motions of foreplay and seduction. He didn't care if Julie or whoever he decided to favor that day got off or not. Jeffrey would be the first to admit that it was all about him and his pleasure, and if the woman didn't like it, he had plenty to choose from.

Hamilton warned him repeatedly about a potential s.e.xual hara.s.sment scandal, but Jeffrey was careful. He paid his staff well and he paid extra well for favors like the one Julie was doing for him now. She looked at him and he motioned for her to keep going. He was getting hard, but Hamilton was worse than a cold shower.

"Jeffrey, what if the O'Brien girl makes the same connection between Taverton and Lowe?"

"She won't," Jeffrey said. "And don't use names. You should know better. We have it under control. Don't panic. As long as we keep our cool, we're fine. Got it? I have to go, I have another major donor meeting and I don't want to be late."

He hung up before Hamilton could protest.

"Spread your legs more," he told Julie.

"Like this?" She bent her knees so they were flush against the couch, spreading her wet pink lips. He loved young, limber girls. Julie was twenty. Hardly jailbait. He was extra careful about that.

Jeffrey was also single, so adultery was not even in the picture. He had several high-profile "girlfriends" for the paparazzi, and it was well-known he was a bit of a playboy. But he used his easy charm and powerful charisma to parlay that into somewhat of a following. Women came to him for s.e.x. He never had to go looking for it.

"Good." His c.o.c.k twitched. "When was the first time you f.u.c.ked yourself?"

"I don't remember." She was growing a little flushed, but he sensed she was still nervous about being caught. That was part of the thrill.

"Take your fingers and push them in."

"I'd rather have you do it."

"I'm sure you would." He took his c.o.c.k out of his pants. He was semi-hard. "Like it?"

"You know I do."

"Maybe I'll let you suck it later. Go deeper."

She inserted two fingers and pushed them deep inside her. What he really wanted was to watch Julie and another woman go at it, then take them each in turn. He liked having power over many women, having lots of choices.

But he had to be careful about that. The last time he'd gone too far into his fantasy he almost lost everything. Hamilton had to fix it. Jeffrey didn't like having to call Hamilton in to fix anything because he held it over him forever.

He watched Julie and thought about a different blonde.

Another problem Hamilton had to fix.

Jeffrey had picked up the hitchhiker on Highway 80 on the California-Nevada border. He was on his way back from Reno where he'd lost fifty thousand and change. He was angry, at the casinos and the cheating blackjack dealers.

Fifty thousand. From the campaign. f.u.c.k. He'd have to talk to Richie about how to replace it without anyone knowing. Richie was good at that kind of stuff.

He pulled over because she flashed a little leg. He needed a diversion. He rolled down the pa.s.senger window and she ran over. He didn't unlock the door yet. "Hey," she said.

"What's your name?"

"Niki."

"Where're you going?"

"San Francisco."

"I'll take you as far as Sacramento."

"Great."

"What'll you give me?"

She rolled her eyes, then smiled. "How about a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b?"

"Deal."

He drove forty minutes. They were still east of Auburn. "Let's pull over here."

"I'll do it while you drive."

"I don't want to crash the car."

"Oh, you really get into it."

Yes, he did. And he knew what he really wanted from this cheap wh.o.r.e who offered him a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b for a ride. Girls like Niki would do anything.

He turned off the highway, then made a couple turns and parked off the road among the redwood trees. Perfect. He unzipped his pants and his semi-hard d.i.c.k popped out.

He looked at her. "It's all yours."

"I don't think so."

She had a gun in her hand. It was pointed at his lap. "You guys are all the same. You'll do anything to have your c.o.c.k sucked. Get out. You can hitch your way home. Maybe offer to eat out some lonely housewife." She laughed.

No one, no girl, talked to him like that. No woman pulled a gun on him.

He opened the door slowly. Got out of the car, hand on the door. Niki slid over to the driver's seat, grinning, like she'd bested him.

"Sorry, Jeff, you'll learn not to pick up hitchhi-"

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of the car. She screamed, and turned the gun toward him. He grabbed her wrist with his other hand and slammed it against the car. He disarmed her easily.

And if he had just hit her and left her, he wouldn't have needed Hamilton to clean up his mess.

But Niki had promised him a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b, and she was going to give him one.

He picked up the gun and pointed it at her head.

"I'll take that b.l.o.w. .j.o.b now. And you so much as nip me, I'll blow your f.u.c.king head off."

She was crying. Crying! The b.i.t.c.h had pulled a gun on him and she was crying because he'd taken it away? But she got down on her knees and took him in her mouth and he was happy. When he was hard, he pushed her away. "Take off your pants."

"Please, don't. Just go-"

"Now."

She did. She looked pathetic with her shirt and jacket and a naked a.s.s.

"All fours like the b.i.t.c.h you are."

She complied. He almost wished she would fight him.

He knelt behind her and raped her. Rape? No, he didn't think so. She'd offered her mouth, this was just another female hole.

He closed his eyes. He put the gun behind him, but said, "If you try to get away, I'll break your neck."

She didn't try. She'd accepted the fact that she'd f.u.c.ked with the wrong person.

He pushed down on her shoulders to get better leverage. She wasn't very big, he realized. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen, you f.u.c.king pervert."

"You started it."

Sixteen. Perfect. He shouldn't do this, this was forbidden. The forbidden excited him. He came much too quickly.

He withdrew, getting hard again. He'd take her twice. She owed him.

She jumped up. He reached for the gun and held it on her. She was sniffing, her eyes red, leaves in her hair. She pulled on her pants.

"Don't," he commanded.

"Leave me alone. Go away."

"I'm not done."

"Yes you are. Done for good, Mr. Jeffrey Riordan, license number 3ABB688."

"Don't threaten me."