Sugar & Spice by Keith Lee Johnson Page B

how much did you pay for your house?”
    â€œFour hundred fifty thousand,” I said. If we lived just about anywhere else in the country, with the exception of Los Angeles and New York, our home would be a palace. But in Arlington, houses are very expensive. It would be difficult to find a decent house for less than $230,000. That is, if you want more than one bathroom.
    â€œThat’s what I figured,” Kortney said with a satisfied tone. “Now, how is it that a teacher can afford to live right across the street from you?”
    â€œShe inherited the money from her deceased uncle,” I said matter-of-factly.
    â€œAre you shark sure?”
    I remembered the first time I heard her little euphemism, “shark sure.” We were at the Academy with other would-be FBI agents practicing how to go through doors. Kortney and I had gone through a door and yelled “clear.” We heard an instructor say, “Bang! Bang! Both of you are dead.” Then he reminded us to look behind the door. Later, at mealtime, Kortney had said she would be shark sure the next time she yelled “clear.” We all laughed hysterically. We knew what she meant, but it was funny as hell.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell you better be shark sure, Phoenix. Shark sure!”
    I remained quiet. I was thinking about what Kortney was saying. What if Sarah Lawford lied about the inheritance money? If she lied, that in and of itself would not prove that she was involved with Warden Perkins. But it would raise questions. Questions that could prove to be embarrassing for me and the bureau. I was the one who had vouched for her on television a few hours earlier.
    â€œYou know the media is going to ask some of the same questions that I’m asking, Phoenix.”
    â€œI know,” I said, shaking my head. All of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure about Sarah Lawford. I wasn’t sure at all. If we couldn’t prove that she inherited a substantial amount of money, the media was going to have a field day.
    â€œListen, you can pretend to be on an extended vacation if you want, but I’m putting you back on pay status, which means I expect regular reports from you and McPherson. You don’t have to come into the office, but you do have to report your findings to me. Agreed?”
    â€œAgreed,” I said.
    â€œApologize to Keyth for me. Goodnight.”

CHAPTER 35
    Alex and Sam were sitting in a black Oldsmobile parked a few hundred feet from Taylor and Jack Hoffman’s multimillion-dollar residence in the Rosemont district of Alexandria, Virginia. The white painted brick colonial was distinguished from the other homes by four huge columns that stood in front of the entrance. A red brick wall separated by an iron gate surrounded the property.
    The twins had followed Taylor Hoffman to Dulles International Airport, where she dropped off her husband who had taken the last flight out to Los Angeles. They had waited in the sweltering August heat for Taylor Hoffman to turn off the only light burning in her bedroom. It was so hot that they had discussed turning the air conditioning on, but decided against it. They were taking a big chance as it was. If someone heard a car start, they might look outside and see them. Maybe even call the police.
    The Hoffmans were an upwardly mobile couple with everything to look forward to. The young couple was married in June, a few weeks after twenty-six-year-old Taylor had graduated from Georgetown University, where she earned her degree in corporate law. Earlier that morning, Taylor had interviewed for and accepted a coveted position with Talley, McNearney and Associates. The firm had promised her plenty of opportunities for advancement and a possible partnership if she worked hard.
    Jack Hoffman had developed a virtual reality program at the Massachusetts Institute for Technology that was specifically designed for themotion picture industry’s science fiction films. The