White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 7

Letters in the dark

"This was what you found underneath one of my buildings?" the man claiming to be Halbridge asked, staring at the photo of the dead Healbridge that Peter just handed him over his glass desk.

"It is."

"How did they die?" 'They'? Peter frowned, but it was probably just a word hiding that he knew too much.

"We think it was murder."

"Unfortunate." Halbridge handed the photo back to Peter. "Have you had any luck identifying it?" 'It.' Another interesting choice of words.

"Not yet. We'll know more when the lab work comes back, which takes weeks with older remains like this," Peter said, enjoying himself pretty much, playing the role of himself. "I was hoping that you might be able to help us."

"Hmm, I bought the building twenty years ago. It's before my time."

"There is one thing you might be able to help us with," Peter continued and pulled a photo from his file and pushed it across the glass surface. "I assume you recognize this woman."

It was a photo of Sara walking on the sidewalk, unaware of the photographer. They had not dared to let Sara out for the picture, so they had photoshopped it.

"Do I?"

"You should. Sara Ellis. Insurance investigator working with Sterling Bosch. She was investigating you concerning stolen bearer bonds."

The man on the other side of the desk nodded and smiled.

"Ah, yes, I read about her recent misfortune." He returned the photo. "What did she have to do with this?"

"Does," Peter said, dropping the bomb. "Present tense. This photo was taken yesterday." He saw Halbridge fighting with his emotions. Surprised, but not to show that he cared. "It appears she's alive. Her death was faked."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know." Peter realized that it was the first absolute lie he had said so far. It was so easy to build an alternate truth about the same facts. "But she was the one who tipped us off about the body. We think that she's working with this man." He placed a photo they had taken of Sara and Neal. "You know him?"

Was that sweat on the man's forehead? He hoped so.

"What's his name?"

"Steve Price." He said both words very distinctly. "That may be an alias. We're not sure. Does the name ring a bell?" Halbridge was a few shades paler now. Peter placed a small microphone on the leg of the table. The desktop was of glass, so he could not hide it, but Neal had reminded him that it was easy to hide things in plain sight.

"Steve..."

"Price," Peter filled in.

"No..." Halbridge shook his head.

"Well, we think these two might be targeting you in some way. If something comes up, please let me know." Peter rose from his chair and held out his hand. "We're here to help."

Halbridge shook it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Peter smiled back. "Keep those photos."

"I will."

Peter left and walked down the stairs. The last thing he heard before he passed the marvelous front door was a 'Nico, get in here.' He hurried to the van.

"You're getting better at planting bugs than Caffrey," Jones greeted him, sitting with a headset on one ear, recording.

"He's talking?"