We got a councilman denied for an eco-tourism whatever grant, an un-deposited cashier’s check for the exact amount of the grant from some bureaucratic foundation, a half a million deposited somewhere ... and a picture of the dead guy’s step daughter.
He scratched his chin. “Where the hell’s that check?” he finally said out loud.
Another thought struck him and he opened a browser. He tapped out The Traditional Department of The Interior of South Carolina and a few thousand hits came up that had nothing to do with the actual company. Wikipedia had an interesting line buried among some official sounding jargon: The Traditional Department of The Interior of South Carolina is associated with being a front for money laundering.
Wait ... what?
He searched for CPM ... 177,000,000 entries. Dammit. He added South Carolina. 461,000 results. Better. He tacked on environment and in quotes “The Traditional Department of The Interior of South Carolina.” 9,975 hits and there it was at the top: CPM—Consolidated Paper Mill.
“What are you up to, CPM?” he muttered as he clicked the link.
A very bland page with a bunch of jargon that described the goings on at the paper mill in stale outdated language popped up. He clicked around and almost left the page before a thought hit him. He hovered over the “About Us” tab and a dropdown appeared: Mission Statement/Company History/Board of Directors.
He clicked Board of Directors and gasped. There at the top was a picture of a man with close-cropped white hair, a goatee that was peppered with grey, and small, circular glasses propped low on his nose. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Victor Böhring – CEO and Owner.
“Oh. My. God.” Chesney opened a window and searched Victor Böhring, Pawleys Island. A property deed popped up from fifteen years ago with an address to a beach house on Pawleys. He dropped the laptop and slammed his cruiser into gear. His tires scattered gravel as he squealed onto the road.
The goon Laura had served at Drunken Jack’s had been carrying this man’s credit card ... maybe it wasn’t stolen. Maybe this guy was a hired thug. This was getting deep—deeper than his pay grade.
He picked up his personal cell and clicked through the contacts. He found John Dodd Welford and pushed call.
After exactly two rings, a vague voicemail answered, as any secure line phone call would. Chesney left a quick message. “John, it’s me, Ches. Call me back as soon as you get this. I think I’m on to something big here in Pawleys ... maybe a homicide. Something above local jurisdiction. I need a fed’s eyes on this. Check out Victor Böhring and give me a call.”
He hung up the phone and accelerated. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Laura was in danger. He opened her contact screen and clicked call again. Chesney cursed as he remembered her phone was stolen. Of course, it went straight to voicemail.
“Shit,” he said, turned on his lights, and sped up.
26
Don’t Eat No Yellow Snow
Daisy Mae Gallup held little baby Troy, er ... little baby Darren ... in her arms. He was nursing and alert. He had a messy shock of almost black hair on top of his head and his eyes were dark too.
“Dangit if he don’t look like Troy,” she said, stroking the top of his head.
“I know it,” Ellie Mae said from the chair beside the bed, “I cain’t believe he ain’t.”
“That’s alright though,” —Daisy Mae switched the baby to her other breast— “his new daddy, Darren, is gon’ take care of us better’n that loser anyhow.”
“You betchur ass he is!”
“When they gonna let us outta here?” Daisy Mae jerked her thumb toward the call button. “This here baby needs ta see his daddy.”
“Jus’ cool yer jets, sis,” Ellie Mae said, and held up her hands palms facing her sister. “They gotta make sure little baby Darren is truckin’ along jus’ fine and dandy afor they let us outta here.”
“It’s a dang prison!” Daisy Mae groaned.
The baby turned his head away from the breast and nuzzled into her arms to take a nap.
“It ain’t that bad, Daisy.” Ellie Mae rolled her eyes. “If everythin’ looks okay, they’ll probly let us go tomorrow mornin’.”
“Tomorrow mornin’?”
“Yup, that’s what they said.”
“I cain’t spend another night in here drinkin’ that apple juice crap they keep bringin’ me!” Daisy Mae slapped a small paper cup off the lunch tray sitting next to her.
“Oh, come on now,” Ellie Mae said and reached down to retrieve the cup, “it ain’t that bad.”
“I need a Pepsi.”
“What?”
“Go down to the cafeteria and get me a Pepsi.” Daisy Mae pointed at her forehead. “I got a ragin’ headache and a Pepsi’s all that’s good for it.”
“I don’t think yer ‘posed ta have any caffeine,” Ellie Mae said and picked up the nurse call button and started to push it. “I’ll find out for ya.”
“If you push ‘at button, I’m gone come up outta this bed and clobber you.”
Ellie Mae dropped the button and snorted. “You couldn’t stand up, let alone catch me right now. Whatchu gone do?”
Daisy Mae pouted her lips out. “Come on, sis. Just a little Pepsi. Just a little one and I won’t even drink it all. I’ll share it with you.”
Ellie Mae arched her eyebrow in obvious suspicion.
“Swear it!” Daisy Mae drew a cross over her heart with her finger. “Hope ta die. And make it a Diet Pepsi if ya want!”
Ellie Mae snorted again. “I ain’t drinkin’ no Diet Pepsi. If we’s sharin’ it’s gonna be full test.”
“If you insist,” Daisy Mae said.
Ellie Mae shook her head, slung her purse over her shoulder, and walked out the door. Her sister hadn’t been gone for more than a minute when the nurse came in.
“Ok, ma’am,” she said and reached for the baby, “we need to take this little guy over to the nursery for his tests.”
Daisy Mae jerked him closer to her body. “Oh no yer not!”
The nurse blinked in surprise. “But, Miss, they all have to get their shots and tests done.”
“Oh, hell no.” She pointed a finger at the nurse. “I know how this works. I give you my baby, you take ‘im away, and then he’s gone, kidnapped.”
The nurse cocked her head. “Ma’am, I assure you that won’t happen. He has a tag on his wrist that matches yours. No one can leave this hospital with your baby without a matching bracelet. That only happens in the movies.”
“Sure, it does!” Daisy Mae was starting to get hysterical. “But why do you think they made them movies in the first place? Cause it happened to someone, that’s why.”
The nurse was baffled. “But ... ma’am, if you want to take your baby home, we have to do his tests.”
“You can take yer tests and shove ‘em up yer—”
“Hey now,” came Ellie Mae’s voice at the door, “What’s this all about?”
“This lady is stealin’ mah baby!”
The nurse held her hands up. “I most certainly am not! I was trying to take the baby to the doctor to have his tests—”
“She probly ain’t even a nurse!” Daisy Mae pointed an accusatory finger at her.
Ellie Mae walked into the room and sat two large drinks in Styrofoam cups on the bedside table.
“You might be right.” Ellie Mae narrowed her eyes. “Why dontchu jus’ get on up outta here, nurse whatever yer name is.”
Then she turned to Ellie Mae. “I seen ‘is in a movie once. They take yer baby and sell ‘im on the black market fer kidney’s and such.”
Daisy Mae nodded fiercely. “Yup!”
The nurse put her hands on her hips and sighed loudly. “Well, I never,” she said, exasperated.
“And you ain’t never gonna.” Ellie Mae raised a fist and shook it at the nurse. “Now git!”
The nurse turned and scurried into the hall. They could hear her voice echoing down the corridor, calling for security.
“Sounds like maybe we best git little Darren outta here,” Ellie Mae said and nodded to her sister.
“I think yer right,” Daisy Mae agreed, handing the baby to her sister. “Lemme git his things.”
With that she waddled out of the bed, unplugged herself from various IV’s and machines, and started rifling through the cabinets. She dragged diapers and wipes and lotions and towels off the shelves and into a bag that said, St. Francis Hospital of Litchfield on the side.
When it was fully stuffed, Daisy Mae set the bag down by the door and peered out into the hall. It was quiet for now, a lone wheelchair resting empty a few doors down, but the security team would be coming any second now.
“I need some clothes,” she said, pointing to the open backside of the hospital gown. “Cain’t git far with my butt hangin’ out!”
“Here, put these on,” said Ellie Mae, and handed her a pair of sweatpants that said Pawleys Island down the side.
Daisy Mae pulled the sweatpants up over the gown and cinched the extra-large waistband until it was snug on her newly shrunken belly.
“Imma git that wheelchair and git you and baby Darren outta here.” Ellie Mae crept into the hallway and slunk down to the chair.
A few seconds later she rolled it into the room. Daisy Mae slumped down into it with the baby swaddled snugly in her arms. Ellie Mae slung the overstuffed bag of baby products over one of the handles and grabbed the two large drinks.
Without much fanfare, they marched down the hall, showing matching bracelets to the front desk. Through the nursery window they could see the nurse who had been trying to kidnap the baby earlier. Her face lit up with alarm and she gestured wildly toward the trio, saying something to the doctor who was holding up a baby by its legs.
“It shows show that you’re supposed to be here until tomorrow,” the nurse at the desk said and frowned at her computer screen.
“Yeah, well, the doc said little baby Darren here is advanced and can graduate early.” Daisy Mae smiled her best honor roll mother smile.
Of course, she was faking it; she had no idea what that kind of smile looked like.
“Well, I’ll have to check it ... ” the nurse was saying while tapping on her keyboard.
“Here, gimme that!” Ellie Mae grabbed the scanner from the desk and shone the laser on her sister’s and the baby’s bracelets.
The door buzzed and they shoved their way through.
They slid sideways out into the hall and hurried down to the valet stand. Ellie Mae proudly produced a ticket and within minutes the just-out-of-high-school part-time-looking valet retrieved their brand new, fire engine red, jacked up, decked out Jeep Wrangler Unlimited and handed them the keys. Daisy Mae climbed up into the passenger’s seat and carefully strapped herself in, snugging the baby in behind the shoulder strap.
“Nice ride,” said the valet, his hand out and obviously expecting a tip.
“Bet yer ass it is,” Ellie Mae said and looked down and smacked his hand. “Don’t eat no yellow snow!”
They both cackled hysterically as the Jeep roared to life. Just as they pulled away, a security team bumbled their way out the door. They were out and gone in a matter of minutes.
Ellie Mae watched them get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as Daisy Mae shot a bird at them out the window.
“Where to, sis?” Ellie Mae asked.
“I got Darren’s phone number right here.” Daisy Mae was unfolding a small piece of paper. “Let’s see where he’s at.”
27
Can You Hear Me Now?
Troy Clint Bodean pulled his straw cowboy hat off his head and flung it on the kitchen counter. He filled two glasses with water from the refrigerator door.
Laura Kate Starlington was pacing back and forth in the living room on the verge of hysteria. She was running her hands through her hair, brushing it back from her face.
“They’ve got her. They’ve got Karah.” She was starting to cry. “There’s a crazy dude in my house and Karah is gone. We’ve got to call the police. I’ve got to find Chesney’s number. This is crazy. What the hell ... ”
“Now, just slow down, little lady,” he said and handed Laura a glass, “and tell me what’s goin’ on.”
“I’m not thirsty, Troy! There’s a strange man in my house and someone’s kidnapped Karah!”
She smacked his hand, sending the glass crashing to the floor and slinging water all over him. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
She rushed over to the broken pieces and crouched down. She was gingerly stacking the glass in her hand when she broke down and started sobbing.
“Here,” —Troy sat the remaining glass of water down and eased his hand under her arm helping her up— “let’s get that later.”
He helped her to the futon and sat her down. She shuddered with each breath, gasping as she cried. “I don’t understand,” she sniffled. “Why? Why Karah?”
Troy shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s a pretty girl. I guess this kind of thing happens to pretty girls.”
He looked through a window that faced Laura’s place. “let’s get that dude out of your house first.”
Jumping up the stairs three at a time, he called down to her. “Be right back.”
He slid apart the doors to his bedroom closet and pulled the string to turn on the naked light bulb. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached up on the top shelf, fingers scraping the edge of an old Sperry Docksiders box. Finding solid purchase on the top of the box, he pulled it off the shelf and down into his hands. He blew a slight coating of dust off the box and placed it on the end of his bed. He took a deep breath and opened the box.
Inside it, wrapped in an old desert issue tan t-shirt, was a Beretta M9. Been a long time, he thought, staring at the nearly new looking handgun.
Troy picked it up out of the box, checked the safety, and ejected the magazine ... two rounds. That should do it. He slid the nearly empty mag back home. He checked the safety again, pulled his shirttail up, and slid the gun into his waistband. He closed the box and put it back up on the closet shelf.
He padded back downstairs to find Laura on the phone. She was less animated and was nodding her head.
“Okay. Yes. I don’t know. I guess he’s still in there. Okay. No, I didn’t see her in there. No, no screaming ... nothing like that.”
He couldn’t hear the other caller, but assumed she must be talking to the police. She saw him come into the room and walked toward him, still talking into the phone.
“Okay, I’m just next door. Yes, I’m with Karah’s boyfriend, Troy. Okay, hang on.” Laura took the phone away from her ear and hit the mute button. “He wants to talk to you.”
“Cop?”
Laura nodded.
Troy took the phone. “Y’ello?”
Nothing.
He shrugged at Laura. “Nobody there.”
She took the phone, unmuted it, and handed it back to him.
Troy tried again. “Yello? Can you hear me now?”
On the other end of the phone, a man with a calm voice, said, “Yes, hello Troy?”
“Yup, this is Troy.”
“Okay, good,” the man said. “This is Officer Chesney Biggins of the Pawleys Island police department. I’m a ... good ... um, friend ... of Laura’s.”
“Pleasure, Officer Biggins.”
“Call me Ches,” he said. “Listen, from what I can gather, Karah has been kidnapped?”
Troy looked over at Laura and turned away from her. He lowered his voice.
“I reckon that is the situation,” he drawled, “and apparently there’s a dude still in the house.”
He peeked over his shoulder at Laura and lowered his voice.
“Maybe waitin’ on Laura to kidnap her too.”
“That very well could be the case,” the officer said matter-of-factly. “I’m on my way. You and Laura need to sit tight. Do not approach the man. Do not go into her house. In fact, if you have a vehicle, you may want to consider leaving the
island for a while.”
Troy pulled a key ring from his shorts pocket; it held the key to his beach house and a key to his pickup truck.
“Yeah, um ... about that,” —he shoved the keys back into his pocket— “I’ve been meanin’ ta get that battery looked at.”
“No worries,” the man on the phone said, “just stay in the house. Lock the doors. No one gets in. I’ll be there ASAP.”
“Thank you, officer.”
“Call me Ches.”
“Gotcha.” Troy held up a thumbs up sign to Laura. “Thanks, Ches.” He ended the call and handed it back to Laura. “Pretty nice guy,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“He said for us to just park our be-hinds here and wait it out.”
“But what if Karah is still in there?” Laura motioned toward the house. “We have to at least find that out.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t in there.”
“Well, I didn’t see her ... or hear her for that matter. But she could’ve been tied up, or gagged. Shit, I left her in there with that man.”
She started crying again. “Troy, you have to go over there and see if she’s there.”
Troy sucked his teeth and absent-mindedly brushed his hand up the back of his shirt, checking to see if the M9 was still there. He took a deep breath and went into the kitchen. In one long gulp, he swallowed the glass of water he’d left sitting there. He picked up his cowboy hat, ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back. He sat the cowboy hat on top of his head.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, and turned to Laura, pointing to the sliding glass door facing the beach. “When I go out that door, lock it and bar it behind me. Go upstairs and don’t come out until Officer Ches gets here. You get me?”
Laura nodded. “Be careful, Troy.”
“Always am, little darlin.’”
He took a quick peek through the window and, satisfied that no one was looking, he hurried out the door. He heard it slide closed behind him and then the click of the lock.
He jumped down the deck stairs that led under his house and shuffled through the dune that connected to Laura’s place. When he crawled over the railing under the house, he stopped and listened.
The Complete Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Collection Page 22