“I need to get back in training.”
I picked up the note and read. “S. Meet me at the designated place. J.”
I handed the note to Marjorie. She read it and handed it back. “Beats me.”
“Same here.” For the first time, I looked at the disk itself. “Oh crap.”
Marjorie leaned toward me.
I turned the case so she could see also.
“This is a computer disk, not music.” My heart raced. “We’ve found something important. But what is it?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Skip
Skip leaned against the car the auto thief had abandoned. The heat in his face and neck came from pure embarrassment. He felt like a complete idiot. He’d lost the one thing his uncle had left him. “Until one of us dies,” he’d told Wally. “Until one of us dies.” How many times had he said that?
A patrol car rolled into the lot. He cursed himself again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. More heat rushed into his face as he watched two uniformed officers exit their vehicle. Were they eyeing him? Wondering how he could have done something so—so—stupid? He knew better than to leave his keys in the car. Worse, he’d left the car running. An open invitation for a thief.
“Mr. Cosgrove?” said the first officer. His name tag said he was Eagan. He had short-cropped hair, stern eyes, and flared nostrils that reminded Skip of his junior-high gym teacher.
Skip gaped at the man who had spoken. “Sorry, guess I’m still in shock.” Skip gestured with his head at Davy, who gave the two officers a meek smile. He continued, “I was helping Davy when it happened. He was backing this truck out—next thing I know, my car’s gone.”
Eagan said, “You left the keys in it?”
“Worse. I left it running. But I was right here. I can’t believe someone would steal a car like that.”
Eagan said, “Maybe he was in a hurry.”
Skip forced himself not to snarl. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
Eagan shook his head. “No sir. Car thieves aren’t usually so brazen. The fact that he stole your car while you were in the immediate vicinity suggests your thief was either acting on a dare, has sociopathic tendencies—”
Skip finished what he knew was coming next. “Or was running away from something. Crap.” He’d been so focused on his car that he’d forgotten about Roxy. What if something had happened to her? “One second.” He pulled out his cell and dialed Roxy’s number.
He waited four long rings before she picked up.
“Hey.”
He felt relief at the sound of her voice. She must be fine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m in Stella’s with the landlord.”
Eagan shifted from one foot to the other, his impatience obvious. Skip decided he’d have to wait for the story. “I’ll call you back.” He said to Eagan, “Sorry about that. She’s in one of these apartments. I wanted to make sure my, um, friend was okay.”
Eagan nodded knowingly. “No problem. Right now, we’re looking for a car based on the description you phoned in. It hasn’t been found yet, but as long as it’s still on the streets, the guy won’t get far. Let’s go through the report.”
Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, as the police completed their paperwork. When they’d finished, they went on their way and Davy finished backing the truck out onto the street. As the truck rumbled away, Skip ran back into the complex. He found Apartment 6 and knocked on the door.
Behind the door, a hacking cough preceded a gravelly, “Who is it?”
“Skip Cosgrove. Is Roxy there?”
“Just a sec.”
The dead bolt clicked and the door opened. An elderly woman with long, flowing gray hair opened the door. Her eyebrows arched as she gave Skip the once-over and smiled. She nodded as she turned toward Roxy, who sat at the kitchen table.
He breathed another sigh of relief, but then realized she winced as she stood. “I was worried about you,” he said.
The woman nodded. “You should have been worried about her. She had to fight off a criminal.”
Roxy’s face flushed mildly as she glanced away. The woman hacked a few more times while Skip searched Roxy’s face for an explanation.
“The kidnapper showed up. He was after this.” Roxy held up a CD case.
“No way. That guy wasn’t stopping by to grab some new tunes. I can’t believe it.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s a music case, but it’s a computer disk.”
“What’s on it?”
“We don’t know—yet. Marjorie was going to let me use her computer to check it out.”
He licked his lips. “You’re not the only one who ran into this guy.”
Skip saw her cheek twitch as she took in what he’d said. “You, too? You saw him?”
“More like he drove away—in my car.”
Roxy’s jaw dropped and Marjorie began to hack again. She chirped, “This just gets better and better.”
Roxy said, “Your Porsche? He stole your Porsche?”
It was the first time he’d seen anything resembling concern on her face for someone other than her immediate family. The fact that she cared, even if it was only about the car, gave him some consolation. “He grabbed it while I was helping some guy back a moving truck out of the lot.”
Marjorie chuckled. “Davy. He’s new. He’s a dork. Kid’ll be lucky to land a job. That’s why he left Vegas, no work for him. Poor kid’s got a black cloud over his head. It’s a little late, but stay away from him if you don’t want to get rained on.”
Skip ignored the comment. “He’s not real good at driving a truck.” Skip paused. “I can’t believe the guy stole my car!”
“You called the cops?” Marjorie said.
“They just left.”
“Too bad, could’a gotten a twofer. You want to see what’s on that CD? We can go down to my place.”
“How do you know that’s what the guy was after?” asked Skip.
Roxy held out a piece of paper. “Here’s the note that was in the case. The CD is marked MH with a marking pen. And he was holding a black CD case with silver lettering in his hand when I interrupted him.”
Skip held Marjorie’s gaze. “Are you sure you want to be involved in this? Maybe we should leave. This is getting dangerous.”
“Not at all,” she hacked. A small cough followed.
“You need to see a doctor,” Roxy said.
“Forty years of two packs a day, honey. Doc says I won’t live to see my fiftieth, but I’ll have a helluva time till then.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Roxy looked at Skip. “Marjorie had her fortieth reunion today. She missed it because of me.”
“Don’t worry about me. I haven’t had so much fun in ages.”
Fun? Skip wondered how anyone could call this fun. It took only a few more minutes to finish straightening up Stella’s apartment and then they followed Marjorie to hers. Inside, Marjorie sat Roxy in front of the computer and excused herself.
“I gotta check messages.” She limped across the room and pushed a button on her answering machine.
Roxy glanced up at Skip. “She’s been really sweet.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and Skip leaned closer to hear her. “That guy could have killed her, but she’s a trouper.”
Skip gawked in disbelief at Roxy.
“What?”
He couldn’t believe what he was thinking. When had she morphed from a self-centered, uncaring—he tried to wet his lips, but his throat felt waterless. Nor could he explain how he’d felt in that moment when he’d thought she was in danger. He nodded in agreement. “She’s tough.” He looked her in the eye and realized how exposed he felt. “So are you.”
Roxy snorted and turned away. She put the CD into the drive.
In the background, Skip heard a voice blaring. “Margie? Where the hell are you? You’re gonna miss the reunion. Call me. If you don’t, I may just have to call 9-1-1 and have ‘em send some big hunky firemen over to save you. On
second thought, I’m hanging up and calling ‘em right now to have one sent over here. I think I got a case of the vapors coming on.” The woman leaving the message cackled. “Anyway, call me.”
Roxy tapped on the keyboard impatiently, seeming to ignore him while she stared at the computer screen and giggled. She muttered, “Too much.”
Skip watched the contour of her face and felt loneliness encroaching on the perimeter of his confidence. She’d gotten to him. He had to distance himself. Starting now. He took a deep breath and watched the screen. “So, what’ve you got there?”
“Still waiting. This thing’s so slow.”
“So why do you think this guy came back for the disk?”
Roxy shook her head. “Dunno. It’s got to be something important. He must have picked the lock, just like you did at Dane’s apartment.”
“Maybe he had a key. He knew Stella. They were in on the kidnapping together.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Roxy’s face fell. “Damn. I can’t believe the luck I’m having.”
Skip turned his attention to the computer screen.
Roxy buried her face in her hands. “It’s password protected.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Roxy
My afternoon had gone to hell. I’d met my dad’s kidnapper again and failed to take him down. I’d gotten the disk the kidnapper wanted, but couldn’t read it. I’d nearly gotten an old woman I liked killed. I’d had to spend time reading back issues of Popular Mechanics in Skip’s insurance agent’s office while he reported his car stolen because he just couldn’t do that over the phone. And the final blow was that now we were having dinner together at Keller’s.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Skip. Actually, I like him a lot. It’s just that, well, I’m probably leaving town soon and the last thing I need is a complication. Besides, he thinks I’m just another SSB—a spoiled, snotty bitch. Maybe he’s right. Whatever.
During dinner we hadn’t said much, which suited me because I was famished and not feeling particularly sociable. Skip had a burger. I went with the turkey sandwich. Both of us opted for the Crispy Fries, which I reasoned I was allowed to have because I’d gotten the sandwich without mayo. I’d just finished the last of my fries when Skip’s phone broke the silence.
I could either go to the restroom or eavesdrop on one side of the conversation. What the hell? Last time—when Skip was having that conversation with Tommy—I went to the ladies room and got left out when I returned. I hate making the same mistake twice, so eavesdropping won out.
“Cosgrove. What?”
Skip’s voice had gone up a few notes. His face turned blotchy.
“It’s totaled?”
Ouch, I thought, not the car.
“When? Where?”
His eyes were turning red. This hadn’t been good news at all.
“Thanks.”
I decided to pry. “What’s up?”
“They found my car.”
He sounded morose and his eyes glistened. OMG, he wasn’t going to cry on me, was he? I considered heading for the restroom after all, but decided to press on rather than bail on him. “Was that the cops? They found your car and it was totaled?”
He nodded. His jaw was getting tight and his neck was kind of bulgy.
“I’d kill the son of a bitch, but he died in the crash,” he said.
I nearly choked on my Chardonnay. “He’s dead? That should be some consolation.” Even to myself, I sounded like a snotty bitch. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant to say.”
“CHP spotted the car on I-5 right near the 78. When the cop turned on his lights, the driver took off. He changed lanes in front of a semi and clipped the front end. The cop thinks he was doing about 100 and trying to hit the off-ramp.”
“Jesus. A hundred? At the 78? That’s, like, suicide.”
“I-5 is a mess. You know what pisses me off the most?”
My attitude? SSBs in general? I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this.
“This guy kidnapped your dad, beat you up, stole my car. And we don’t even know who he is. Or who he was working for.”
Not that I was keeping score, but on that list, I had two of the things that pissed him off. And mine came first. Wow. Another wow—something I hadn’t thought of. “You think he was working for someone?”
“I think he was a hired gun. You saw him. You didn’t know him, right?”
I shook my head. “Never seen the guy before—except in a Bill Clinton mask.”
“Think about it. One of the kidnappers meets your dad in a bar, gets him drunk, and then ransoms him off for five million dollars.”
“But that was Stella’s doing.”
“This guy killed his boss? The one who set it all up? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe it was Dane?”
Skip took a long swig of his beer. “Who’s he? Where is he? How did he suddenly hook up with Stella for this? Last time I checked, the phone book didn’t have a category for kidnappers.”
The waitress showed up to clear our plates. “Everything okay here?”
Skip gave her a thumbs-up signal. I smiled. “As usual, the best.”
With the waitress gone, I sat back in my seat, stunned. There it was. The answer had been right in front of me since I’d first seen the CD. Skip was right. Stella had known the kidnappers before. “MH—Martin Horvath.”
Skip stuck one of his fries in his mouth. “Stella’s old boyfriend.”
“Shit. So what do you think is on that CD?”
Skip held up another fry and pursed his lips. “My guess? Five million dollars.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think it’s the bank transfer information.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry. If my bank account was on that disk, I could get the money back. In order to do that, though, I’d need the password. Without it, the disk was useless. And my five million was history.
“Why would he leave her a CD, but no password?”
“Insurance? That’s a lot of money. Maybe he was worried about a double-cross.”
“But he knew Stella. He was her boyfriend.”
Skip leaned forward and put both elbows on the table. “You’re assuming he’s Horvath.”
I remembered Marjorie’s description of Jimmy Dane. “That guy today wasn’t Dane. He doesn’t fit the description. He has to be Horvath.”
“Dane’s probably the third kidnapper.”
I nodded. “He kind of fits Marjorie’s description.”
“What if there’s a fourth guy? What if the guy you ran into was getting the disk back because Horvath told him to?”
I didn’t want to think about that possibility. “You think he was there under orders?”
“Maybe.”
“That would mean the disk was there for safekeeping. Who put it there? The guy in Stella’s apartment? I saw him leave, remember? I shot at him.”
“Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was Dane or the fourth guy.”
I felt like I was on a merry-go-round and unable to get off. “This is ridiculous. We’re going in frigging circles. We have nothing.”
Skip rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m pissed. I want these guys. I want your money back. And I want to bring whoever started this to justice.”
His voice held a sinister tone, a menacing and ominous current that made me glad I wasn’t the one he was after. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going back into Dane’s apartment.”
“For what? So you can get busted for burglary?”
“If Dane’s behind this, I need to access his computer. I saw one the other night. It looked like it had a lot of programming code or something on the screen. I didn’t think it was important at the time, so I ignored it. I have a friend who can help me, though.”
I half laughed. “Of course, you know a hacker, too.” I lowered my voice. “You’re a criminologist, you can pick a lock, you steal cell phones from crime scenes and you know a hacker. Why not?
” So he wasn’t Mister Straight. Skip had a bad boy side and I liked that. He’d also given me an idea. Maybe that password was right in front of me? I thought about Stella’s phone, her e-mail. Would he have sent it to his girlfriend?
Skip said, “Look, Tanner, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got work to do.”
And so did I, but not in the same place as Skip.
CHAPTER FORTY
Skip
Skip stood in the shadows watching Jimmy Dane’s apartment and the surrounding area for activity. The apartment itself was dark. Most of the others had lights on, but drapes closed. The one exception was a second-floor unit where two couples sat on the deck playing cards. Their raucous laughter filled the night air. It was the type of private party that caused neighbors to count the minutes until the noise let up. It was that attention that worried Skip. He didn’t need someone peering out to check on the card players and spot him breaking into Dane’s, so he’d resolved to wait for the party to end. Given that it was nearly 10 p.m., he guessed that it wouldn’t be long before that happened, one way or another.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the group finished their card game and began sliding their chairs back. Apparently, the game had been men against women and the men won. The women promised payback next week. As they went into the apartment through the sliding door, Skip checked the area again. It would take them a few minutes to say their good-byes. He had a brief window of opportunity or he’d have to wait for the visitors to leave. He donned a pair of latex gloves and made his move.
It took him less than thirty seconds to pick the lock to Dane’s apartment this time. He still wouldn’t use lights, but had his flashlight ready. He’d become familiar with the apartment layout on his previous visit and quickly walked toward the bedroom. About halfway there, the refrigerator kicked on. In the dark room, it sounded like a freight train.
At the bedroom door, Skip paused. Footsteps thumped overhead. He took a breath and crossed the room to Dane’s computer, which whirred in the dark. He moved the mouse and light from the screen filled the room. Skip stared at the gibberish he’d seen the other day for a couple of minutes. He wished he’d paid more attention the last time he’d seen this, but as near as he could tell, there was no change.
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