The Long Game (Alexis Parker Book 16)

by G. K. Parks

  “Do you mind if I talk to you?” I asked gently.

  Slowly, he turned back to look at me. “Talk to me all you want.” He licked his lips. “I should have done something,” he said quietly.

  Resisting the urge to say I told you so, I went with the next best thing. “We’re safe now. But I don’t understand what happened. Who was that guy? Why did he want $250,000?”

  Noah closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the pillow. The bandage around his skull matched the pillowcase. “Did you pay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he eked out. “He got what he wanted. He’ll leave us alone now.” His eyes closed, but I wanted answers.

  “It can’t be that simple. He tortured and buried you alive. He’s killed before. I don’t think he’s finished with us.” I shook his shoulder. “Noah, he nearly beat me to death. You owe me an explanation.”

  His eyes blinked open, but I wasn’t sure if he was still coherent. “Huh?”

  “When I woke up in the trunk, I thought I was dead. For a moment, I thought I had been buried alive. It was terrible. I can’t imagine what the real thing must have been like. I’m so sorry.”

  He swallowed, fighting back tears. “I’m just glad someone found me. How did they find us?” He looked at Jablonsky before turning back to me. “Who are you?”

  “You know who I am.”

  He shook his head, attempting to gather strength. “Under the circumstances, I have a hard time believing the police would let an art gallery owner in to see me.” He jangled the handcuff on the bedrail. “Am I right?”

  “I’m not a cop, if that’s what you think, but I have friends who are. That’s the only reason they found you before it was too late. They just want to help, but you have to let them.”

  “She’s right,” Jablonsky said. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I took a seat in the chair beside Noah’s bed.

  “So why am I a prisoner?” Noah asked. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “We have a strong case against you, Mr. Billings, but it doesn’t have to be that way. My interest isn’t in arresting you. It’s in stopping a serial killer. I believe you know who he is, and if you cooperate, you’ll be free to go as soon as the hospital clears you.”

  “It’s Ripley,” Noah insisted.

  Jablonsky nodded. “Right, Ripley, that’s what you were calling yourself when you tried to convince Alex to fall for your scheme.”

  “There was no scheme.”

  “Actually, we have evidence of your four latest con jobs. We’ve spoken to several of your marks. You’re facing multiple counts of identity theft and fraud. And we’re just getting started. But no one’s been physically harmed by your actions. Am I right?” Mark asked.

  “I don’t hurt people.” Noah appeared to be on the brink of passing out. Questioning him like this wasn’t fair, but with a psycho on the loose, we didn’t have a choice.

  “I’ve spoken to the U.S. Attorney’s office, and they’re willing to make a deal if you provide us with intel that leads to the arrest of the violent criminal who nearly killed you and Alex.”

  Noah let out a wheeze. “I don’t know who he is.”

  I took his hand. “You know plenty. Just think for a second. He focused on you. We need to know what he wanted. Was this about money? How much did he want? Did you rip him off?”

  “I don’t know who he is. I never saw his face. He wanted the coin. He wanted to know where I got it. How much there was.”

  “The cryptocurrency?” Mark asked.

  Noah squinted and groaned. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure you don’t know who he is?” Mark asked.

  “He was always covered head to toe.” Noah looked to me for affirmation, and I nodded. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered, and one of the machines beeped. He started convulsing, and a nurse rushed into the room.

  “Get out,” she yelled at us while a team of medical professionals raced inside.

  Watching that brought back a lot of bad memories, and I dropped into a chair in the waiting room. Noah was a lot of things, but he didn’t deserve this. No one did. “I don’t want him to die.”

  “That’s not up to us.” Jablonsky rubbed my shoulder. “Do you believe that he doesn’t know who did this to him?”

  “After everything that he’s been through, I don’t see why he would protect that asshole.”

  Finally, a doctor came out, saying Noah was being moved back into the ICU. His condition was precarious. They didn’t know if he’d make it, but obviously, speaking to him again was out of the question. Jablonsky offered me his arm for support as we went back to the car.

  “This has to do with the cryptocurrency,” I said. “It’s worthless. I don’t see why anyone would want it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Mark blew out a breath. “That doesn’t explain why the unsub has it out for you. It’s personal for him. How the hell could you and Noah have pissed off the same man without even realizing it? You don’t have anyone in common.”

  “Except Don Klassi.”

  Mark swore and reached for the phone.

  * * *

  “We’ve got one guy with a million identities and another guy with no identity.” I paced in front of the couch, each step a reminder of running through the woods, the impact of my footfalls jarring the rest of my body. Pain shot through me, and I stopped moving. “They’re connected somehow, but since we don’t have names or basic facts, we can’t determine how.”

  Martin flipped through the pages of notes he made and the intel he printed. “I don’t understand why Noah didn’t cooperate.”

  “It’s not his fault. He’s not in any condition to think clearly or answer questions. I’m not even sure if he’ll make it through the night.”

  “Dammit.” Martin’s jaw clenched. “He isn’t innocent. For all I know, he’s the reason you were taken.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Sweetheart, he stole ten million dollars. That’s the reason Don approached you. It’s the reason for all of this. Don’t forget that.”

  I lowered to the floor, searching for the files Cross had given me. According to Lucien, Don never lost ten million dollars. “Everything tracks back to Don. He’s the connection. The unsub knows him. He’s been watching him. That’s why I picked up his trail outside the bar and near Don’s neighborhood.”

  “I wish I never let you speak to him. I should never have allowed shareholders to have seats on the board.” He went to the liquor cabinet, poured two fingers, and knocked it back in a single swallow. “You didn’t even want to go to that dinner party.” His face contorted, and he swore. “I did this.”

  “Martin, no.”

  He fought the tremor that went through him. “I’m the reason Cross has been assigning you to these cases. And I fucked up the negotiation. Y’know, maybe you’ve been right all along, and we aren’t good for each other.”

  “Come here.”

  “Alex,” Martin didn’t move from his spot, “I did this.”

  “You know that isn’t true. It’s not any truer than every time I’ve taken responsibility for your safety.”

  “This is different.”

  “The hell it is. Deep down, you know it’s exactly the same. Our roles are reversed, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m here because you intervened. Maybe it wasn’t some heroic and chivalrous feat, but you got the job done. So I need you to pull it together because I can’t do this by myself.”

  He poured another shot and swallowed it. “I said I’d do anything for you, and I meant it.”

  “Good. Why don’t you start by helping me up?”

  He knelt beside me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He stood, and I crushed myself against him. He hugged me back, and we just held each other for what felt like hours. It was what we both needed. When I released him, he seemed steadier. More in control. More like the Martin I knew.

  “Grab that folder.” I pointed down at the table. “Lucien might be on to
something.”

  I moved to the island counter and took a seat on one of the stools. Martin placed the folder in front of me, and I skimmed the pages as I laid them out. Cross Security had done a deep dive into Don Klassi’s financial history. Most of Don’s money was tied up in developing properties. It wasn’t liquid, and it definitely wasn’t hiding in some offshore account.

  “Are those tax returns?” Martin asked, horrified and impressed.

  “Yeah.”

  “How did Lucien get these?”

  “I don’t think we want to know.”

  Don said most of his money was offshore. I figured that was to avoid paying taxes, and based on what he reported to the IRS, he never paid taxes on the alleged ten million. Klassi was a partner in a real estate business with an estimated worth of twenty-two million, but that was for the entire business. Klassi wasn’t sole owner. He wasn’t worth that much. Honestly, according to what I was reading, he wasn’t even worth ten million. And it looked like his partners wanted to buy him out.

  Martin took the tax returns and a calculator and began running numbers while I examined the rest of the intel Cross collected. Klassi had several foreign bank accounts, but they equaled less than five million. These were the bank account numbers Klassi gave us when we promised to track the transfers and get back his money. Cross included lists of transactions into and out of the accounts. The most Klassi ever possessed was four million dollars.

  “Don lied. He never gave Noah ten million. According to the transaction history, over the course of their relationship, he gave Noah $100,000.” Even though it was written in black and white, I wasn’t sure what to believe. Noah had a system of names and accounts; he was a grifter, a known liar. Cross traced the $100,000 to a numbered Swiss account which belonged to Noah which currently had $168,590 in it. “This doesn’t make any sense. Don hired me to recover the money. Why would he do that if there was no ten million? He could have just hired me to recover the hundred grand. He must realize we can’t recover money that doesn’t exist.”

  Martin jotted down a few numbers and pounded away at the keys. “He could sue Cross for failing to fulfill the contract to try to make up the difference. Or maybe Don figured since Noah conned him, he must have conned a lot of other people. First come, first served.”

  “Except he didn’t want the money. He wanted the ten million in cryptocurrency that he claimed Noah owed him.” I snorted. “Now who’s the con artist?” I glanced at Martin. “What are you doing?”

  He held up a finger, indicating I should wait. “I don’t know. There’s something screwy with these numbers. Don’s assets don’t add up.”

  “Yeah, well, he lied to us. He probably lied to the IRS too.”

  “I get that, but that’s not the problem. Just give me some time to get this sorted.”

  Relieved Martin had something to work on that didn’t involve planning a tactical assault on a nursing home or hospital room, I gave Cross’s notes a more thorough readthrough. To summarize, he believed Don was on the verge of being pushed out of his company. Don didn’t have the cash needed to prevent his two partners from taking over. They had already offered him a healthy severance and stock options which he turned down. They tried again, upping the offer. It was clear they wanted him out. They wanted to demolish several of the properties to rebuild and rebrand. The project required a lot of capital, but Don didn’t have it. Since he was outvoted, he had to put in an equal share or bow out.

  I rubbed my eyes and returned to the couch. Don was sleazy; I knew it the moment we met. I wasn’t surprised his business associates wanted him gone. Hell, we all wanted him gone. Maybe Klassi thought he could collect an eight-figure payday by convincing me he’d been swindled by a charlatan. However, no matter how I twisted and turned the facts, it didn’t answer the biggest question. Who abducted me?

  “Noah didn’t have that much money,” I mused. “I wonder how much worthless coin he has.”

  “Probably not enough.” Martin snorted. “Are you sure he’s that great of a con man?”

  I dug through the FBI files. Finding what I was looking for, I read the report. Noah’s documents, the driver’s licenses, social security cards, and birth certificates were infallible. They passed muster. Even the scan strips on the back coordinated with state DOTs.

  “He actually had these issued by the government. They aren’t fakes. They’re copies.” From my research into the phony names, I knew the men he impersonated existed. “He must have gone to these places to have the photo IDs made. It would have taken a lot of time and effort. Maybe there are other accounts in other names that we just haven’t found.”

  “Then why didn’t Noah offer to pay the guy? Agents found him buried. Surely, he must have realized he’d be killed. It’s not like he could take it with him.”

  “That shithead would have killed us either way. After you gave him the money, he had no intention of bringing me to you. The reason he went back to the cabin was to kill me and clean up the mess.”

  “I know.”

  I looked at him. “You saved my life.”

  “Guess we’re even, huh?” Martin said, his tone flat and cynical.

  “Guess so.” Another thought came to mind. “How did you pay the ransom?”

  “Cash, nonsequential bills, nothing larger than a twenty. No trackers. No dye packs.”

  “Really?”

  Martin scowled. “It was your life on the line. I only cared about you, not the money.”

  “I’ll pay you back. It’ll take some time, but I’ll find a way.”

  “No.”

  “Martin, it’s a quarter of a million dollars.”

  “So what? I’d rather be bankrupt and have you than have all the money in the world and no you.” He cracked a smile. “I just won’t buy another Ferrari. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  By all accounts, Noah was a coward. He would have done anything to save his own neck. He knew the unsub was coming for him. It’s why he was so desperate for Alexandra Scott to fork over the money. He needed it to pay the bastard back or to finance his escape. But how could he owe money and not know who he owed? Why didn’t any of this make sense?

  Thirty-two

  “You’re assuming the motive is monetary,” Jablonsky said. “Psychopaths have their own reasoning, but it’s usually not that simple.”

  “What if he isn’t a psychopath?” I asked, and Mark gave me a look. “Yeah, okay, he’s definitely a psycho, but maybe he’s muscle. Someone could have hired him to take care of the problem. Perhaps he doesn’t have skin in the game or a beef with Noah. Maybe he just does it for sport. For the thrill. He obviously enjoys killing. Maybe he just wanted Noah out of the picture.”

  “Noah and you.”

  A chill went through me. “Did anything come back on the blood found inside the bomb shelter? Have we identified any of the other victims? Dental records shouldn’t take this long.” I swallowed, predicting the answer to my next question.

  “Parker, this is an active investigation.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “The remains are in advanced stages of decomposition. No prints. Initial exam suggests they’re at least five years old. We’ll know more after the lab processes everything. He knocked out their teeth, so we can’t run dental records. The techs are hoping to do some computer modeling and facial reconstruction based on the bones and what flesh remains.”

  “Have you tried speaking to Noah again?”

  “Hospital won’t allow it. He’s taken a turn. His brain is swelling. It might be an infection. We’re waiting to see.”

  “Keep the protection detail on him.”

  “I intend to. Speaking of protection,” Mark said.

  “Don’t worry. Martin and I are well-versed in the birds and the bees. We’re always safe.”

  “Parker,” he growled.

  “Like I said, Martin has it covered.”

  “Now that image is burned in my mind.”

  I laughed. “Sorry, that
one was unintentional. Heathcliff upped patrols, and Bruiser and Marcal are sticking around me. Martin hired a secondary team to shadow him.”

  “Cross’s guys?”

  “No. Bruiser’s navy buddies. We’ve used them before on occasion. Didn’t you vet them?”

  “Yeah, but Marty didn’t tell me why he wanted them. I was afraid it might have been a tactical breach or some other hairbrained black ops rescue mission.”

  “Is that why you let him have a gun and wear a vest?”

  “He knows how to shoot, and he insisted on making the drop. I had no choice but to let him tag along. The least I could do was make sure he was protected. Damn, there’s that image again. You make any more progress on figuring out how Don Klassi fits into this?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Same here. I’m hoping to get a peek at his phone records to see who he’s been in contact with.”

  “Call Heathcliff. After I was attacked in the alley, the detective thought it might be linked to Stuart Gifford’s murder. He’s investigating Don in relation to that on the off chance they are connected.”

  Mark snorted. “It’s a long shot, but if we can convince a judge that it’s a real possibility, I might just get that warrant. Thanks, Parker.”

  “I got you covered.”

  “Ugh. I’m going to soak my brain in vodka now.”

  Chuckling, I put the phone back on the table. Martin gave me a cock-eyed look. “You haven’t laughed much since I got you back. I missed that sound.” He rubbed his eyes and put the documents down. “Do you want to let me in on the joke? I could use a laugh.”

  I laughed harder which caused a sharp pain in my side. I did my best to hide that from Martin and fought to regain my breath. “Mark’s just having some very dirty thoughts.”

  “Oh, really? And he told you about them?”

  “Well, he didn’t have much of a choice. They were about you.”

  Martin gave me a look. “Should I be worried?”

  “No, I told him you always use protection.” I did my best to fight off the fit of giggles that threatened to rip my insides apart. “Forget it. It made sense in context.”