Evan wished he hadn’t asked.
‘So it’s not some code?’
Jackson shook his head.
‘Like Fuck Everything And Run, you mean?’
They looked at each other, understanding passing between them.
‘I guessed you must have worked it out. I’m impressed. Might have been better for you if you hadn’t.’ He pointed at Evan’s neck.
‘Except then I wouldn’t have this to give you.’
He pulled the suitcase towards him.
Jackson leaned over. Watched as Evan unzipped the small pocket on the front. He stuffed his hand in. Tried to find the thumb drive. Jackson saw his face change. The look of satisfaction slid off it as he pushed his fingers right down into the bottom corners.
‘Lost something?’
Evan thought back. Groaned. Got a mental picture of himself rushing to stuff everything in the suitcase.
Jackson raised his eyebrows. He suddenly looked to Evan a lot more like the maniac who’d strangled him this morning.
‘I’ve lost it.’
‘Something in particular? Or life in general?’
Evan laughed without a trace of humor.
‘Both. There’s a thumb drive with a video message—’
He stopped mid-flow. The photograph. What the hell happened to the photograph of Rachel?
‘What kind of video message?’
There was a harder edge to Jackson’s voice now.
‘From Dixie to you. A goodbye message in case anything happened to him. He left it with the money.’
Jackson sat back in his chair. He tucked his hands under his armpits, looking like somebody jabbed him with a cattle prod.
‘And you lost it?’
‘It must be somewhere in the hotel room.’
Jackson slid across the seat.
‘Let’s go get it.’
Evan shook his head.
‘I’ve checked out.’
Jackson looked at him as if to say what’s that got to do with anything? Evan didn’t argue.
They walked back to Evan’s car. He popped the trunk, threw the suitcase inside. As he straightened up, he felt something dig in his ribs. He looked down, saw the barrel of Jackson’s gun pushed hard into his side.
‘Change of plan. I’ll go back to the hotel. You can get to know Diego a bit better. I’m sure you’ll be able to spend hours bitching about Carly.’
Evan got in the driver’s seat with Jackson behind him. He’d have preferred him in the passenger seat where he could see his hands. He thought about mentioning the photograph. Catching his eyes in the mirror he was reminded how the guy tended to over-react.
In the end he kept his mouth tightly shut. Figured it was better to be locked in a room with Diego when he found it.
Chapter 68
THERE WAS SOME KIND of disturbance going on in the lobby when Jackson arrived. A fat, middle-aged woman was having hysterics on the couch, a yappy little dog in her lap. Her husband was arguing with the manager at the front desk. There was a lot of shouting and arm waving. The husband repeatedly jabbed something on the reception counter with his finger.
That suited Jackson just fine. Less chance of being interrupted while they were all going at it in the lobby. The door to Evan’s room was open. He stepped in. On the bed two suitcases were half-unpacked. He suddenly realized what was going on—this was the couple in the lobby’s room. They’d been unpacking and found something they didn’t like. Something bad enough to make them stop what they were doing and march indignantly down to reception, start banging on the counter.
He paused mid-stride as a thought crossed his mind, his pulse quickening. The thumb drive. He glanced around the room, dismissed the thought immediately. There wasn’t a laptop in sight. They wouldn’t have been able to see what was on the drive even if they’d found it. From the look and smell of the place it was probably just a dead mouse.
They’d been unpacking on the bed, so whatever they’d found must have been somewhere nearby. A pair of pink, fluffy slippers were pushed halfway under the bed on one side. He imagined the woman in reception bending down with thoughts of asking for a reduction in her mind as she checked how good a job housekeeping had done. Seemed like she’d got a lot more than she was bargaining for. He reckoned it would be the last time she went looking for ways to save a few dollars in a cheap hotel.
He crouched down, tilted his head to the side to look under the bed. Sweeping the dreadful slippers out of the way, he saw the thumb drive immediately, pushed further underneath by the slippers. The woman in reception might not agree with him but he was thankful housekeeping hadn’t done a better job of vacuuming.
He picked it up. Dropped it in his pocket, pleased it really did exist even if he was apprehensive about what was on it.
The argument was still in full swing in the lobby. The yappy little dog had peed on the carpet. The fat woman was trying to mop it up with a kleenex. Her husband was still shouting, his face dangerously red.
‘I want to know who was in room fifteen before us.’
The manager patted the air with his hands to get him to lower his voice.
‘I can’t divulge that information, sir.’
‘Then call the police. Right now.’
The guy’s voice had escalated to a scream.
Jackson slowed. Room fifteen was where he’d been a moment ago. Evan’s old room. These people had found something in there they didn’t like. Something Evan left behind.
Something else Evan left behind.
‘Right now!’
The husband banged his fist on the counter. Something fluttered off. Landed on the floor in front of Jackson’s feet. It was a photograph. Automatically he bent to pick it up. He was vaguely aware of the husband and the manager staring at him in open-mouthed horror. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. He took hold of the photograph. Stood up again. Glanced at it casually as he did so.
He froze.
Unaware for a split-second what it was he was looking at.
Then something kicked in on a deeper level in his subconscious. He looked at the photo. Studied it more carefully. A young woman sliced up like a piece of meat. Head bowed. Blood everywhere. He looked at the face, her features still recognizable.
His mind refused to process the information.
Rachel.
Something erupted inside him. Ripped through every organ in his body.
‘I’ll take that please, sir.’
The manager held his hand out across the counter. The husband tried to snatch it out of his hand.
Jackson pushed the guy away with the flat of his hand. Stared hard at them. Their faces blanched as one as if they’d seen the news of their deaths in his eyes. Even the dog had stopped its yapping. The fat woman stared wide-eyed with the pee-soaked kleenex held to her bloodless lips.
Jackson stepped right up into the husband’s face. His arm shot out. Grabbed the manager’s tie.
‘If I hear a single word about this, read a single word in the papers about this’—he waved the photograph in their faces—‘or hear a police siren within ten miles of here, you’ll wish your deaths were this easy.’
Nobody said a word.
Then the dog started yapping again. Jackson turned and headed for the door. Gave it something to yap about on his way out.
Chapter 69
JACKSON COULDN’T TELL YOU how he got back. He didn’t know if he drove, flew through the air or ran naked through the shady streets. He was simply aware that he was back.
Evan and Diego became aware he was back when the door exploded inwards. Evan knew immediately what had happened. Diego had no idea what was going on. Pressed himself into the wall behind him.
Evan jumped up. Blocked Jackson’s path.
‘Watch the video first.’
Jackson put a hand on his chest. Pushed. Evan dug his heels in. Pushed back. They stood, balanced, muscles quivering for a very long time. Then the pressure eased. Jackson’s eyes snapped into fo
cus.
‘What?’
‘Watch the video first. You found the photograph?’
Jackson nodded automatically. The pressure built against Evan’s hand.
‘My laptop is in the trunk of my car. Go and get it.’
He gave Jackson a shove towards the door. He didn’t dare leave him alone with Diego. Not even for a second. Not like this.
Jackson turned. Did as he was told. Didn’t bother closing the door. Evan wasn’t interested in making a run for it. The video would exonerate him. Diego couldn’t have made a crawl for it.
Jackson got back. Evan fired up the laptop, inserted the thumb drive.
‘Come on, we haven’t got all day.’
Evan hit play and Dixie started talking.
‘Hey, Jackson, if you’re watching this it looks like you worked out fuck everything and run. If you didn’t, you don’t deserve the money anyway. It also means I’m dead unless we’re sitting together on a beach somewhere watching it for a laugh at how paranoid I am. Somehow, I don’t think so. It’s a pity I’ve got to be dead to be proved right. For what it’s worth I think Carly did it.’
Jackson glanced quickly at Evan then back to the screen.
‘She hired a PI called Evan Buckley to get in touch with me. I reckon this is what she had in mind all along. The guy’s okay if you meet up with him. He might be of some help but don’t hold your breath.’
This time it was Jackson who let out a sudden laugh although he didn’t bother adding his opinion.
On screen Dixie was looking down at his hands. He suddenly looked up straight at the camera.
‘I’m really sorry you had to see the photo of Rachel. I thought long and hard about it. In the end I reckoned you needed to see it. It was that murderous little psychopath José. I caught him as he was leaving the house. Beat seven shades of shit out of him, but I didn’t have it in me to kill him’—he shrugged and gave a lopsided grin—‘I am still a serving police officer after all. It’s different for you. That’s why I thought you needed to know. Maybe I was stupid and he came back for me but I don’t think so. And while we’re on the subject of Carly, Rachel’s death is on her too. If she hadn’t given the money to her to hold onto, she’d still be alive today. I think that gives you enough to think about for now. I’m not going to finish with some sentimental goodbye in case we are watching this on the beach and I don’t want to see you cry. You always were a big baby. Look after yourself.’
Evan threw a surreptitious glance at Jackson. Saw him swallow thickly. Jackson leaned over and hit play again. He watched it all over again in silence. Then he yanked the thumb drive out. Dropped it in his pocket.
Nobody said anything for a long time.
Evan was acutely aware of the need to give the guy some space. He was the sort of guy who’d make his own if you didn’t. And it didn’t matter if it was brick walls or people’s heads that needed moving out of the way. Diego cowered in the corner.
There was only one word that would work and Jackson said it eventually.
‘Carly.’
Evan nodded and Diego soiled himself as Jackson turned towards him.
‘Talk to me, Diego.’
He sounded like he was asking for a bedtime story.
Diego’s mouth was too full of stuff—his tongue, his heart, his stomach—to get any words out at first. Jackson didn’t give him a chance. Loosened it all up with a good kick to the left kidney.
‘We caught her,’ Diego said, his mouth dry with terror. ‘Chico gave her a choice. It was her or Dixie.’
‘But why?’
‘Because he found out Dixie’s a cop.’
The bitterness in Diego’s voice had nothing to do with him being a cop and everything to do with him being Dixie.
‘Chico trusted him. And he betrayed him.’ He gave a strangled cough. ‘In Chico’s world that’s the worst crime of all.’
Jackson stared at him in disbelief.
‘He let Carly go after she ripped him off for three million just for a chance to get Dixie?’
Diego nodded.
‘What does Chico want now?’
Diego looked up at them and they got a glimpse of the depths of bitterness that lived inside him. He let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. Punched the wall.
‘What he’d love is to have the old Dixie back again and none of this to have ever happened.’
‘And seeing as that’s not about to happen?’
Diego shrugged.
‘You tell me. I don’t know him at all.’
‘Did he . . .’
‘He didn’t tell anyone to do that to Rachel.’ Diego pushed himself further into the corner. ‘He sent Victor and José after the money. You remember what José is like. He’s a murderous little psychopath who belongs in a cage.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘They all headed off to Chico’s ranch with his friend.’
He nodded at Evan. Smiled a nasty little smile, pleased to spread the bad news around.
‘Doesn’t look good for your friend now Jackson’s after the money, does it?’
Evan glanced at Jackson. He couldn’t disagree.
***
‘HOW DID YOU GET involved in all this?’ Jackson said to Evan.
They’d left Diego locked in the garage, gone to get something to eat. Jackson had insisted despite Evan’s protestations that he wouldn’t be able to eat a thing until they’d got Kate Guillory back. They walked straight past a Mexican restaurant—they’d both had a belly full of all things Mexican for one day—and settled on a place selling pizza and burgers.
‘Carly knew the right buttons to push.’
He pulled out the picture of her with the arm around her neck, the arm he was now very thankful wasn’t Sarah’s. Jackson stiffened at the sight of Carly.
‘You trying to put me off my dinner?’
More like put him off his own, Evan thought. He realized his mistake too late. His mind was racing as he tried to think how to extricate himself from the hole that was threatening to swallow him in the next ten seconds.
He now knew the arm wasn’t Sarah’s. That’s because it was Rachel’s. And he really didn’t want to set Jackson off down that road again. Have him pull out the other photograph of Rachel, the one he knew was in Jackson’s pocket. Compare bracelets.
Jackson was staring at the photograph, waiting for an explanation.
‘I thought that arm belonged to my wife.’
The waitress came to the rescue before Jackson questioned why, arriving with their food and beers. Despite what he said about his appetite, Jackson dived right in. Evan took a mouthful of pizza that tasted like soggy cardboard with a topping of sawdust. They ate in silence for a while. Then Jackson speared a slice but stopped with it halfway to his mouth.
‘I’m not following what’s going on here.’ He put his fork back down on his plate. ‘When I asked how you’re involved you showed me that photo. What’s that all about?’
Evan pushed his plate away, his pizza only half eaten. The thought of the photograph of Rachel had taken away what little remained of his appetite. He gave Jackson an edited version of Sarah’s disappearance and Carly’s promise of information.
‘She sure knows how to work people. But I’m surprised you fell for it. You already knew she was a friend of your wife. I don’t see why that photo should make any difference.’
He tapped the photograph without looking at it.
Evan knew then it was all going to come out.
Maybe his face gave him away. Maybe some things are just meant to be, but Jackson suddenly looked down at the photo. Picked it up.
‘I recognize that bracelet. It belonged to Rachel.’
Evan watched understanding flood Jackson’s eyes. There were a lot of other things in there as well. He chose to concentrate on the understanding.
‘Your wife had one just like it?’
Evan nodded. Took a long swallow of his beer.
‘So you thought it was her. When
in fact it was Rachel. Carly took advantage of that. Told you she gave the money to your wife.’
‘Yep. She told me the truth about what she’d done. She just changed the names.’
They stared in silence at each other for a long moment. Jackson was the first to speak but Evan could have answered him even before he said a word.
‘Did you—’
Evan was already nodding.
‘See the body? I’d already been told it wasn’t Sarah. But I had to see for myself.’
‘Sounds like you don’t know how to listen to good advice.’
‘You sound like her.’
‘Who?’
‘Kate Guillory.’
Jackson’s face compacted for a second, no longer.
‘She’s the cop you were in the bar with. The one Chico’s got.’
Just hearing the name Chico did it. Evan was immediately back in his office, the image of José standing over Kate Guillory in the blood-soaked kitchen that had come to him like a waking nightmare in his mind again. Chico’s words:
I’d hate for José here to be so lucky.
Then José himself, his eyes on her, bright and mean:
Take all the time in the world.
And because your own mind is second only to fate itself for sticking it to you at every opportunity, another image pushed it rudely aside.
The Jerusalem Tavern.
Wasting Time on the jukebox.
Kate’s voice—Dance with me.
Her arms around his neck, singing softly into his chest.
And the inexorable transition from the one to the other the result of an unthinking action by a careless man—him dropping the tracker into his pocket.
Sometimes it seemed to him he was responsible for every bad thing that happened to the people he cared about.
Jackson shook his arm.
‘Sorry,’ Evan said, snapping out of it. ‘So we need a plan. One that takes account of the fact that you want the money, Chico wants the money, and most of all I want her back.’
Hunting Dixie Page 27