Daylight

by David Baldacci

  Pine took out her phone and scrolled through it. “Here’s an email I got from NYPD on Jeff Sands.” She showed it to him. “And here’s another on Sheila. They’re both dead. I saw their bodies.”

  Cassidy read the emails and sat back looking worried.

  Danforth said, “What’s this all about, Phil? What’s she trying to say with all this crap?”

  Pine turned to him. “What I’m trying to say is someone is cleaning house and you two are on the to-do list. That’s the only reason you got the Article 15 and a suspended sentence on your detention. So instead of being in the stockade surrounded by John Puller’s handpicked guards, you’re out here as sitting ducks.”

  “You’re saying we got sprung so they could pop us?” This came from Cassidy, who had forehead sweat bubbles of his own now.

  “You know Vincenzo’s old man, Teddy?”

  “No, but Tony told us about him. He’s squirreled away at Fort Dix Pen on a long ride.”

  “He was. Puller and I went to talk to him. All official and everything. Just as he was about to tell us something, they came and got him. No explanation, no nothing. Then before we knew it, he ended up dead in his cell. They say it was an overdose, though the guy wasn’t a user. I’m thinking that they decided three prisoner deaths at the Fort Dix facility might arouse suspicion. So, you two got set free, and you’ll come to the end of your lives on the other side of the bars. You see it any other way?”

  Cassidy hunched forward and spoke in a low voice. “Let’s assume all you say is true. What can you do about it?”

  “I’m FBI. I can protect you. But this is a quid pro quo situation. I need something in return. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

  “Shit,” muttered Cassidy as he looked around the place. “Let’s take this outside.”

  Pine rose. “After you.”

  CHAPTER

  53

  THEY ENDED UP SITTING IN PINE’S CAR.

  She said, “First things first. Where’s Tony Vincenzo?”

  Cassidy, who was sitting in the passenger seat, spread his hands. “Ain’t seen him since we got arrested. Figured the locals would grab him when the CID arrested us, but that didn’t happen, least that I heard.”

  “He was at his dad’s house when I saw him last. Where he had the pill operation, right?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “The place used to be owned by Ito Vincenzo, Tony’s grandfather. He ever mention him?”

  “Once when we were over there and I was looking at some of the old photos in the basement. When I asked him, Tony said the guy just disappeared one day when he was just a kid. Said he didn’t really remember him. Tony said his old man told him Ito was running from something.”

  “Why would he say that?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. But that’s just what he said.”

  “If Tony isn’t at his old man’s house, where else would he be?”

  Cassidy and Danforth looked at each other.

  “You guys know about the penthouse in New York?”

  She didn’t expect them to answer; Pine just wanted to see their expressions.

  Danforth grinned stupidly and said, “Awesome place.”

  “Shut up, Billy,” snapped his buddy. “You’re gonna get us killed for sure.”

  “Then you have been there. What’s the deal? Axilrod said it was a perk, at least that’s what Tony told her, although I don’t believe anything she says.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Your answers are not adding up to a quid pro quo, gents. Maybe I should end this now and let you get killed before the sun sets. I don’t like my time wasted with bullshit. So, you can get out of my car. But run fast because they’ll be coming for you.”

  “Wait a minute,” exclaimed Cassidy. “Just hold on. I’m trying to process all this and it ain’t easy. Just . . . just let me breathe, willya? I mean, Jesus.”

  “Okay, take all the time you need, keeping in mind that patience is not my virtue.”

  Cassidy chewed on a nail while Danforth slumped in the rear seat looking like he might start crying.

  “Okay, look, we were working some drug deals.”

  “But no drugs can get into Fort Dix. Lindsey Axilrod told me that. She probably regrets it now because it was probably the only true thing she ever told me. They have drug-sniffing dogs at all entrances.”

  Cassidy grinned. “Yeah, but who said we were selling the drugs at Fort Dix?” He glanced at Danforth. “Right? We were at Fort Dix, but not the drugs, or the customers.”

  “Where were the customers then?”

  “All around.”

  “How did you get involved?”

  “Through Tony. He needed some guys. And he knew we were handy, and—”

  “—didn’t mind breaking the law?”

  Cassidy shrugged but smiled.

  “But again, why Fort Dix?”

  “Tony worked there, so there was that.”

  “Who got him involved?”

  “He told me once. His old man had a friend on the outside.”

  “This old friend have a name?”

  “Ricky, or Johnny, or something like that. Anyway, Teddy was in the can, he couldn’t do nothing. But he got Ricky or Johnny to ring up Tony.”

  “Nice of Dad to do that. So the Fort Dix connection is just because of Tony?”

  “I guess so.”

  “No, I’m not buying that. Because you’re leaving out Lindsey Axilrod. She’s been at Fort Dix longer than Tony. I checked. So why do I think Tony was feeding you a bunch of bullshit about his old man’s friend, Ricky-Johnny, and it was Axilrod who pulled him in? And then he needed a couple of guys and pulled you two in.”

  “I guess it could have gone down that way.”

  “What were your jobs with the drug ring? How did you two add value?”

  Cassidy grinned, suddenly animated. “We drive Army vehicles. From here to there. Everywhere. Guess what happens when you drive Army rides?”

  “The cops don’t stop and search your vehicles for drugs,” said Pine.

  “Bingo. We’d drive outta Fort Dix, take a slight detour, and the vehicle gets filled up with the stuff. They were pros, took maybe ten minutes at best. Then we continue on our way. Right before we get to where we’re going, we’re met by another team and get unloaded. Then we head on. Simple, right?”

  “So you two never dealt with any customers?”

  “No. Tony did the pills. But Axilrod was calling the shots. She’s a computer girl. Can do anything with that shit.”

  “Which also means she can move money digitally all over the world and leave no trail.”

  “I seen her working one time. This was at her place. Her fingers flying over the damn keyboard. After she was done, she turns to me and says, ‘You know what you just saw?’ And I said, ‘no, what?’ She said, ‘You just saw a billion bucks go down a rabbit hole.’ ”

  “Were Axilrod and Tony a thing?”

  “They might’a hooked up now and then. Tony is slick. He knows how to talk to the ladies. Lindsey liked him. She got him the perk at the penthouse. That’s how we got to go.”

  “So Tony is below her in the food chain. And who is Axilrod working for?”

  “We never knew any of that.”

  “Come on, Cassidy, your deal is starting to fade to nothing.”

  “Swear to God. Swear on my old granny’s grave.”

  Pine eyed Danforth, who was looking at her and nodding.

  “Okay, I guess I believe that. I mean, why would they let you two knuckleheads have that kind of leverage.”

  “Leverage?” said Cassidy. “What does that mean?”

  “It means it proves my point. Okay, I really need to find Tony. Any thoughts on that?”

  Cassidy shook his head, but Pine was watching Danforth in the rearview mirror. His expression was such that an idea might actually be forming in his very small brain.

  “Yeah?” said Pine expectantly.
>
  “Tony and me were drinking one night. And he mentioned a place.”

  “What place?”

  “His granddad’s old place. It was on the Jersey Shore.”

  “His granddad? You mean Ito?”

  “I guess so. Tony said the dude made money selling ice cream.”

  “That’s the guy. Keep talking.”

  “Anyway, Tony would go there sometimes.”

  “You ever go with him?”

  “Once. It was a nice little house on the beach. Really old, no AC, and they had space heaters, but then Tony had added one of them pellet stoves. Hell, they needed that in the winter ’cause you could see outside through cracks in the wall. We sat on the sand and had beer and buckets of wings. It was sweet.”

  “What was the name of the town?”

  “I got it in my phone. I used my GPS to get there.”

  She had him text the address to her phone.

  “Well, Jack Nicholson is from there,” said Pine, reading a bit about Manasquan, New Jersey, which was located on the Atlantic Ocean. “Went to high school there.”

  “Cool,” said Cassidy. “He was the Joker in that old Batman movie, right?”

  “Okay, I’m going to make a call and you two are going into protective custody. You got that?”

  “Hey, I just want to stay breathing,” said Cassidy.

  “Don’t we all,” replied Pine.

  CHAPTER

  54

  IT WAS A LITTLE LESS THAN an hour’s drive from Trenton to the borough of Manasquan, and it was dusk by the time Pine got there. Along the way she had called Blum and told her what she’d found out and also where she was headed.

  “Neither Gorman nor Franklin have left the building,” reported Blum. “I’ve had far too much tea and coffee, but every time I went to the bathroom, I left my phone camera on video so I could see if either of them left. It was the best I could do.”

  “That was quick thinking, Carol.”

  “I think the folks who work at the café are either wondering if I’m suffering from dementia and don’t know how to get home, or thinking I’m interviewing for a job.”

  “Either way, just stay right where you are, and call me if anything develops.”

  “And you be careful, Agent Pine.”

  Driving through the quaint downtown, Pine saw it was full of small shops and restaurants. However, at this time of year, it was pretty well deserted, with many bars and restaurants closed for the season. But there were a few places open, and people were walking up and down the sidewalks while cars drifted past. Some parked, and people got out of them and went into several of the shops.

  It looked like any other sleepy beach town in the off-season. The smell of salt air lay thick over everything, like a compression shirt. She breathed it in and felt comforted somehow. She didn’t get those smells in Arizona.

  Pine also spotted many large and elaborately constructed single-family homes on the beachfront. They looked fairly new and were undoubtedly expensive to build. But then again, it was oceanfront property and they weren’t making any more of that.

  She had loaded into her GPS the address Danforth had provided. She had taken both men to the RA in Trenton and explained what she wanted done. Neither of the agents on duty seemed inclined to take on this responsibility until Pine mentioned that they should call Clint Dobbs, head of the Phoenix Field Office, if they had doubts about helping. They told Pine that wouldn’t be necessary and that they would see to the safety of the two soldiers, including contacting Fort Dix to let them know the men would not be back on base for the foreseeable future.

  As she neared her destination, Pine slowed her car and looked for a place to park. She found an empty lot that had beach access and pulled in there. The Atlantic spread out gray and foamy in front of her. The wind was chilly, the skies as pewter in color as the frothy ocean, which was broken only by the slash of whitecaps and the folding of breakers.

  She zipped her jacket up, looked around, and gained the lay of the land. Vincenzo’s place was about a hundred yards down the street, a small beach bungalow that looked nearly identical to the neighboring homes. She walked on and gained a sight line on the place from across the street. She drew a pair of small optics from her pocket, glanced around to see if anyone was observing her, and then took a good look at the bungalow.

  It was one and a half stories with dormer windows, saggy green shutters, a tan exterior, and no garage. Rotted and empty flower boxes clung to the underneath edge of the two windows bracketing the front door, which was painted black and badly weathered. A dark blue, rolling, rubber trash can was outside by the front stoop. An empty six-pack of beer bottles sat next to it. A black exhaust pipe piercing the roof was a definite add-on, she figured, because it looked relatively new. Danforth had mentioned a pellet stove, and the pipe must be its exhaust source, she thought. There was a car in the concrete driveway that was spiderweb-cracked in at least five places. The car was a Ford Focus with Jersey plates. As she kept looking it over, she spotted a Fort Dix parking sticker on the rear bumper. The yard in front was more sand than grass. She could have easily thrown a football from the backyard and hit the ocean at high tide.

  She recalled that there had been no car in Vincenzo’s driveway back in Trenton, but the man had been there. Either this was his car, or he had gotten a ride with someone, or a person was visiting him, or he wasn’t here but whoever had driven this car here was.

  She found a café open across the street with a good sight line of her target.

  She ordered a coffee and a toasted bagel and watched the darkness thicken. No one came out of the house, and the car remained right where it was. She could hear the waves crashing on the beach as the tide rolled in. Normally a calming effect on people, it just made Pine more tense.

  Two cups of coffee, a second bagel, and another hour of observation later, Pine took a moment to check her emails. Nothing from Robert Puller, and nothing from Blum. She expected Puller to stay until his brother was clearly out of danger. No word from him was good, at least from Pine’s perspective. And Gorman and Franklin must still be in the building.

  As a fog rolled in off the ocean, Pine’s patience ran out. She left the shop, crossed the street, hit the beach, headed west, and came up on the sand side of the Vincenzo bungalow. There were no lights on in the house or in the residences on either side. There was a small, paved, fenced-in patio on which sat a set of rusty outdoor furniture and a tattered umbrella that was listing to one side. An empty beer can sat on top of one of the fence posts. Pine cleared this area and snuck up to the back of the house. She peered in a window and found herself staring at what looked to be the kitchen. She tried the back door. Surprisingly, it was not locked. She pulled it open slowly, prepared to face loud squeaks from a seldom-used door, but it opened silently.

  She stole inside and took out her Tac light, and the thin beam cut through the still darkness.

  She left the kitchen after seeing that there were stacks of dirty dishes and glasses in the sink. Apparently, someone, hopefully Vincenzo, had been here for a while. The air didn’t feel musty, either, which was another sign this place was being occupied, even if the car wasn’t parked out in the driveway. After searching the house, she planned to check the car next, when it was even darker. It was on the street side, which made it more perilous for her to search when people might still be walking down the street. Hopefully, it would be unlocked, too. The registration would tell her who owned the car. And there might be some other things of interest inside.

  There was a small front room with decades-old furniture, a frayed carpet that looked ground down by sandy feet, and a small bookcase full of old paperbacks. The pellet stove Danforth had mentioned had been inserted inside the original fireplace. The black pipe went up into the ceiling and through the roof, as Pine had seen before. And, as Danforth had said, she could see tiny cracks in the old walls where she could feel damp air coming in. This place must be hell in the winter, she thought.
/>   A small 5,000-BTU AC unit was perched in one window.

  A fairly new-looking Samsung wide-screen TV hung on one wall, and there was an Xbox controller perched on the coffee table. Next to that was a virtual reality headset. That was a good sign that Vincenzo was in the neighborhood.

  And next to the VR headset she struck gold.

  It was a photo ID card for Anthony Vincenzo, allowing him access to Fort Dix.

  There was one bedroom on this level. When she opened the door it was like she had stepped back forty years. The bed was made with a crocheted afghan on top, done in what could only be described as psychedelic colors. The bed and nightstands and bureau were all matching wood in a style from at least as far back as the 1970s. A tattered copy of Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls was on one nightstand along with an old-fashioned windup alarm clock. The bathroom attached to it matched the age of the bedroom. The small closet was empty.

  She left the bedroom and approached the narrow staircase to the left of the front door. She ducked down as a car passed by outside. She cut off her light, stole to the window, and peered out. The car was already gone. The fog was thicker, and she could see no one passing by on foot. She clicked her light back on and took the stairs up.

  The half-story must have been put on later, concluded Pine, because it was drywall instead of plaster, and the finishes looked more modern. There were two small bedrooms and a full bath up here, the latter with a one-piece fiberglass shower and double sinks. In one of the bedrooms, Pine found where Vincenzo was staying. A large duffel was on the floor, and clothes and remnants of fast-food meals were strewn all over. The stink of stale French fries assailed her nostrils. She searched through the duffel and found a nine-millimeter Sig. She popped the magazine, took out all the bullets, and cleared the breach before putting it back. If things went sideways later, Old Tony would be reaching for a useless weapon.

  There was a smaller pink roller suitcase. She nudged it open. Inside were women’s clothes, a box of tampons, and a fingernail file set in a small leather case. Inside the closet were about a half-dozen women’s outfits on hangers. On the floor were three pairs of women’s shoes, from heels to flats.