5:40 p.m. Passion Ministry
Oscar cleared his throat. “Why’d you leave the security room without permission?”
“Without permission?” Virginia replied, settling on her bed. “That’s easy. I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Not the way I see it. Uh-uh. You bailed. Hey...what was that all about, anyway?”
Oscar didn’t bite.
“It’s okay. Just wanted to know if Jimmy’s all right. Is he?”
“Answer my question.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t go postal. Let’s see...well, I guess your troops’re at fault.”
His eyes narrowed.
She brushed her hair. “I waited,” she lied easily. “But...in all the excitement, they just forgot about me.” She twirled the brush. “So, found my room number on the posted list and here I am. You’re personally visiting all the people who arrived when I did?”
He was suddenly looming over her. She scrambled off the bed, dropping the brush.
Oscar placed it carefully on a dresser. “I’m going to have to search your bag,” he said calmly, pulling out a metal detector. “You signed a legal document stating that you carried no cameras and no audio recording devices of any kind, correct?”
“Yup, signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours.” She smiled at his surprised look. “Forget it. Search all you want. I’m not the one with something to hide.”
Oscar stiffened but played the wand over Virginia’s suitcase and clothing. “Purse?”
She handed it over. He flicked the wand, then looked inside. His fingers tugged at the woven straw near the toggle-tie.
Virginia flopped onto the bed. Worked hard at looking bored.
Oscar eased something free. She tried not to stare. “Said you weren’t here as a reporter, Miss Darrow.”
“Can we cut the ‘Miss Darrow’ crap, please?”
“Let’s see. What have we here?” Held up a thin square of hard plastic. “I’m not the expert you are, Gina, but this’s packaging for a memory card. Say…for a digital camera?”
Her heart thudded. “Big deal. Y’know women and their purses. Coulda been there for years.”
“I’ll ask you again. You here as a reporter?”
She shook her head.
“Given this, Gina, I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, Dale Henley, I don’t give a damn.”
His nonchalant reaction stunned her. Then she realized she had blown it by earlier hinting at his real identity. Damn! She eyed his face. “You’re busted. I know all about you, Henley. I was there just after her husband killed her.”
She leaned forward. “What’s it like to ignore a woman’s plea for help? Some kinda sick power trip or what?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, lady,” he replied, fiddling with the metal detector.
“You try and throw me out and I’ll make it my personal mission to ensure that the Apostle knows all about his chivalrous chief of security.”
She paused as Oscar wiped his forehead, then smiled inwardly. In her business, nothing was more valuable than a secret. Especially to a man who had changed his name to protect it.
“So, whaddaya say, Oscar? I think what we’ve got here is a Mexican stand-off.”
