* * *
“This guy’s a pro,” Andy Drakkard said.
Vance cradled his cell phone as he stood at the corner of the yard, his other hand stuck in his pocket. He’d slept only about four hours last night, partly due to an air mattress that wasn’t holding its air and partly due to the fact that the air mattress was the best thing he could hope for at the moment.
“So you found nothing.” Vance took a deep breath. If nothing else, he could enjoy the fresh morning air. He hated standing out in the open, but their yard had no trees. He had to get over it. He’d tried in the past, but again and again he returned to safe cover.
Gas stations were the worst.
“Nothing at all. I asked the IT guys, and they said they might be able to find it, but they’re buried in a high-profile political scandal right now. You would love this one.”
Vance closed his eyes. He wondered if there would always be times when his heart ached for the job. “Thanks for trying.”
“Dude, I’m sorry this is happening. I’d kill this guy. I swear I would.”
“Listen, call me back if something pops up, okay?”
“All right. Enjoy that California sunshine.”
Vance slid the phone into his back pocket and stared at the sky. That famous California sun was hidden by a heavy gray cloud. Vance looked for the silver lining but saw only whispers of sunlight fighting to dominate the sky.
An apple-red Cadillac, shiny and quiet, suddenly pulled to the curb of his condo.
Vance bristled but kept his cool as he watched the car idle there for a moment. A sleek tinted windshield captured the sky like a photograph but stopped him from seeing the driver.
Vance knew where his gun was, but it was inside. Should he go in? Or knock on the window?
Then the driver’s-side door opened, slowly. A woman emerged, decked out in chunky costume jewelry and looking like Phyllis Diller’s more eccentric sister. She noticed Vance and her face lit up with an expression so wide and frantic that Vance wondered if maybe she thought he was someone else. Her hand shot into the air and she waved like that crazy relative everyone tries not to invite to family events.
“Hi!” she sang, quickly shutting her door as she heaved a shiny red leather purse onto her shoulder. “Hi there! Hi!” She tiptoed across the grass like she was walking across hot coals. Then Vance noticed her three-inch high heels and realized if those things sank into the ground, she might not get them out. Well, at least he’d have an escape if he needed one.
She managed to get herself back onto the sidewalk and approached with an arm stretched out in front of her. Vance smiled. It was like she was walking an invisible dog.
That smile might’ve been a mistake. The arm retreated, and the next thing he knew, he was suffocating inside the enormous hug of a 110-pound woman. “You must be Mr. Graegan!”
Vance stepped back, took a breath. She smelled like perfume mixed with smoke. “You are?”
“I am so sorry. Your wife didn’t tell you I was coming? Also, I’m Southern, so excuse me if I come across that way. I’ve been trying real hard to blend in with the West Coast folks.”
Vance glanced at the house. “I didn’t, um, know. . . .” They hadn’t really talked much this morning. Lindy had emerged from the bathroom twice, obviously having cried. Vance didn’t know what to say. But he knew he was going to make things right for her. Whatever it took.
“Your name?”
“I’m sorry. How un-Southern of me.” Her hand shot out. “Karen Kaye. So glad to meet you.”
Vance shook her hand, trying to figure out who this woman was.
“I’m your lawyer.”
Dread stung his heart. She seemed more like she might be selling cosmetics.
“’Bout that problem you’re having with the movers.”
Vance folded his arms. “Okay.”
“Yes. Terrible thing, Mr. Graegan, but I am prepared to help you fight for your rights.”
“You do get that this is a scam.”
“A good one, from what I understand. They certainly have all their ducks in a row, with that contract and all.”
“What, exactly, do you plan to do about it?”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss with the two of you. We do have quite a bit of legal recourse.”
“Assuming you know where to find this man.”
“I have a private investigator. He’s real good. He caught my third husband cheating on me. No easy task. Howie was a sly son of a pistol,” she said with a wink. She cleared her throat. “I understand you’re new to California. Me too.”
“How did my wife find you again?”
Vance’s cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Karen motioned that she’d make her way to the front door by herself.
Vance watched her tiptoe across the lawn again as he answered the phone. “Graegan.”
“Vance, it’s Erin.”
At her name, Vance sucked in a deep breath. He turned from the door just as Lindy opened it. He could hear the two women talking.
“You there?”
“Hey, uh, yeah. Sorry. Was just talking to someone.” He stepped closer to the curb. Looked back to see Lindy and Karen still talking at the door. “What’s going on?”
“Your jacket.”
“What?”
“Your leather jacket. You left it here. You were going to call me with the address.”
He rattled off the address information, watching Lindy and Karen disappear into the condo. The front door shut.
“You okay?” Erin’s voice lowered as if she knew this was a delicate question. “You don’t seem right. Did the rest of your trip go okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. I’m just tired. Busy moving in. And we had some, um, trouble with the movers.” His words felt as hollow as the empty condo he stared at. The image of the tarot card on the mud flaps shoved its way forward through all his other thoughts.
“Vance?”
He couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was all he’d dwelt on the night before. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
Maybe.
He wondered if he should tell Erin. Maybe she’d have some good ideas, be able to give him some advice. She was one of the best cops he’d ever met. Back in Maryland, the captain had asked her to come inside, but she never did. She always liked the thrill of the streets. He understood that.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. Just absorbed in the whole moving thing. You know how it is.”
“Well, not really. I sold nearly everything I had to move to Chicago.”
“You wouldn’t believe the cost of living here,” Vance said.
“I believe it. Chicago’s the same way. At least you get an ocean. I just have a lake. A big one. But it’s still a lake.” She paused. Sounded like she was sipping something. “So have you found a place to open this deli of yours? What’s the name?”
“Ernest and Annette’s. After Lindy’s grandparents. There may be a place right down the street from us.”
“Convenient.”
“Yeah.”
A long stretch of silence was filled by some birds melodically singing in the redwoods nearby. Vance hated the awkwardness. But it was what it was. He couldn’t change the past. He wished it were different, but wishing wasn’t going to change anything. He’d said good-bye a long time ago to what they shared. He missed it, but he knew it was what he had to do.
“I better go. Help Lindy figure out what’s going on with these movers.”
“Right. How is Conner?”
“Adjusting well. Thanks.”
“I’ll stick this in the mail. You should get it in a few days.”
“Thanks, Erin. I really appreciate—”
The phone went dead. He decided to walk back inside, see what this Karen Kaye had to say about things. Get out of the openness. He began to turn toward the house, then spotted something.
It looked white and it hung off one of the two mailboxes that sat at the edge of the curb. The first one belo
nged to his condo. He liked the fact that they still had a mailbox by the curb and not a metal box crowded in a block of dozens of other metal boxes.
Upon examining it, he found a clothespin holding a white envelope to the handle of the mailbox. How long had that been there? He ripped it off and examined it. Nothing written on it. Sealed. Maybe it was some documents for the condo.
The flap unstuck easily. He felt the glue. Still slightly damp. Inside was a single piece of paper. A short, typed letter started at the top.
You have secrets that I am willing to expose. $15,000 by tomorrow or you will lose everything.
8
Lindy wished she had some hot tea and fancy cookies to serve. Her dad’s side of the family was from the South, and she knew there should always, always, always be refreshments. And polished silver.
All she had were paper plates and some Ritz crackers. Karen, with her long, neon pink, manicured fingernails, politely declined them. Instead, she was busily chatting about her legal career, how she’d been a stay-at-home mom for years, got divorced from three husbands by the age of forty-five, put both her girls through college, then went back to school to become a lawyer.
Lindy tried to look attentive, but all she really wanted to know was whether or not she’d be able to get her belongings back. Karen eventually returned to that topic, rattling off some legal jargon that seemed to indicate it was possible. At least that’s what Lindy hoped when Karen slapped her hand on the counter and said, “Come hell or high water!”
Her focus continued to shift between Karen and Vance, who was out on the front lawn, talking on the phone. It was unusual to see him standing in an open space.
“So when is the last time you heard from this fella?”
“We haven’t heard from him since yesterday, when he crushed our table right here in the middle of the house.” Lindy glanced to where it had been. They’d moved it outside against the house but hadn’t thrown it away. “Do you think this man is dangerous?”
“Honey, this guy is a big bully with a moving van. Don’t let him intimidate you. That’s what he wants, for you guys to be scared witless and willing to do whatever he says.” Karen reached across the kitchen bar and patted her arm. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s all going to be okay.” She opened her purse and handed Lindy a tissue, another staple of a Southern woman. “Now, you do have a gun, don’t ya?”
Lindy blotted her face, but she couldn’t hide the surprise. How did they go from it all being okay to do you have a gun?
“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. We Southern women all know how to use a gun. I got mine BeDazzled.” Karen smiled, revealing a smudge of red lipstick across her overly large white teeth. She nodded toward the front window. “Your husband seems a little high-strung. I probably wouldn’t give him a gun. We women are far better candidates for guns, let me tell you. Sure, a high-powered rifle can blow us as backward as Arkansas, but we don’t go aiming the thing at everything that moves. Also, I don’t have anything against Arkansas people. My daddy’s veterinarian was from there. It’s just a sayin’ we like to use.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Personally, I think New Yorkers are the weird ones.”
Lindy had managed to get her tears under control. Karen, in her goofiness and warmth, made her feel at ease. At least temporarily.
The front door opened and Vance stuck his head in. He smiled, but it was tense. “Hey. Just wanted to let you know I was going to run up to 7-Eleven. Get some gas.”
“You’ve met Karen, right?”
“We met,” Vance said, not looking at her. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Lindy offered an apologetic smile as Vance disappeared again. “I’m sorry. This has been really hard on my husband. He’s normally not this rude.”
“No apology necessary. I did a stint at the local federal prison as a public defender for a while, so there’s not much that’s going to shock me.”
Lindy tore at her tissue. “My husband and I moved here to get away from everything. To start over. Part of me wants to just leave this mess, you know? Just let the stupid guy have everything.”
Karen’s frown deepened. “Honey, I am assuming there are quite a few things that are important to you in that van. Keepsakes and whatnot?”
“Sure. Of course. Tons. But what good does any of that do us? I mean, look at us. My husband and I are hardly speaking. So we get our stuff back. But our relationship is devastated?”
Karen reached across the bar and took her hand. “I know this sounds impossible right now. But I am not going to rest until I get you your stuff back. I even canceled my vacation.”
“Oh no. That’s not necessary.”
“It’s okay. I was planning on going to see my aunt in Georgia, and she’s sometimes very hard to be around. She’s pushy. Talks a lot. Wears makeup like she’s trying out for the circus.”
“Honestly, Karen, I’m not even sure that we can afford a lawyer. With things so uncertain.”
“You don’t pay me until I win this case for you, okay? And by that time we will have sued this cockroach every which way and into Friday. We’ll even own his shoelaces.”
“This seems like it could take such a long time.”
“Honey bear, sometimes the best things in life, like real, sun-soaked iced tea, are worth the wait. I won’t make you admit it, but I know you want this foot fungus to suffer.” She smiled. “Speaking of iced tea, you should always have it on hand. This is sun-soaked California, after all!”
* * *
Vance parked his car in one of the few spaces in front of the 7-Eleven but didn’t get out. Now he knew . . . this was more than your run-of-the-mill scam. But what was it? Something personal? Something connected to the sniper case?
He opened the letter again, rereading the words You have secrets. He’d buried those secrets a long time ago. At least he’d tried to.
He slid down in his seat, trying to think, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. He remembered Cantella pounding that into their skulls.
“I know this is emotional,” he’d said as he gathered them all together in the office on the seventh day of the sniper case. “But you have to leave it checked at the door. If you get emotional over this, you’re going to miss something important. You may miss the one thing we need to solve this case.”
Vance had checked his emotions at the door. Every emotion but one. Fear. And unfortunately, he let his emotions get the best of him at home.
He squeezed the steering wheel as his gaze bounced from one person to another. Someone could be watching him. Someone had gotten the edge on him. Someone knew too much about him. And someone was willing to do anything for money.
How was he supposed to protect both his family and himself?
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, feeling very small on the planet. Even when the snipers were on the loose, there was always a sense around the department that they’d be caught, eventually. Nobody ever lost hope. Nobody knew how long the shooters were going to wreak havoc, but eventually they knew they’d catch them.
Vance didn’t have that same sense now. It felt like everything in his world was about to crash down on top of him.
On most days during the sniper case, Vance never let on that fear was getting the best of him. The only person who really knew was Lindy. And unfortunately, she’d gotten the fallout from a lot of it.
Which was why it seemed so hard to talk to her now.
A strong urge swept over him to call Erin back. She would understand. She would talk him through it.
Vance slid his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at the numbers on the keypad. He used to have her on speed dial. Now he only had her in his call history.
Lindy would have a cow if he called her.
But that would be nothing if she found out everything he’d tried to hide. He turned on his phone.
Suddenly, though, another person came to mind.
* * *
Karen stayed and talked for another thirty minute
s. But what else did Lindy have to do? Lindy talked a little about herself, at Karen’s prompting, and about her hopes and dreams for the deli. Karen seemed interested in it all. She said it was hard to start your own business, and she’d had her ups and downs in hers, but ultimately it was really satisfying.
Finally, Karen said she had another appointment and left. Lindy spent some time playing with Conner, though she’d been pleased with how resourceful the kid had become. He’d made a small fort out of sticks in the backyard and then made a house, out of random materials he found around the condo, for the hamster he was hoping to convince his dad to buy. Then he’d spent an hour or more drawing on his Etch A Sketch.
She’d become pretty resourceful too, heating up a cheese quesadilla for Conner’s lunch by putting it directly on the burner of the stove.
These things kept her temporarily busy while her mind wondered and wandered. She wondered what was taking Vance so long at 7-Eleven. Then her mind wandered to the idea of handing over their savings and what that meant for their future. And then she wondered about starting completely over, with nothing.
It would be like a house fire, wiping everything out but the clothes on their backs. People had survived that and were better for it.
The front door flew open as Lindy was cleaning up the kitchen, startling her. It was Vance. He was out of breath.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded. Smiled. But he didn’t look good. He hadn’t looked good since this whole ordeal started.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m okay.” Another smile. This one wider, she guessed, for more emphasis. “I need you to get your stuff together, get Conner. We’re going to Foster City, north of here.”
“Why?”
“There’s a detective who lives there—Doug Cantella. He moved here to retire. I want to talk to him about what’s going on.”
Outside she could hear Conner making airplane noises. “Why do we have to go?”
“I’m not leaving you here. I’ll drop you off at a park or something.”
“Vance,” she said, setting the paper towels down and walking toward him, “I’m not going with you.”
Possession Page 6