“What happened to the guy you had a crush on?”
She chuckled. “Married someone from the math club, I heard. But not before I sent him at least a couple anonymous Valentine’s Day cards.”
He laughed, wishing he’d been around to know her then. “I bet you were a fascinating kid to know.”
“Loyal to a fault and intensely romantic.” Tracey looked over at her sister. “Remember that trip to Chicago, when we talked our aunt into letting us go grown-up dress shopping? I thought she was going to have a heart attack when she saw the prom dress number I had picked out. Classic black and designed to make a guy forget where he was at.”
“You were dating Willard Graham back then if I remember correctly. No wonder that relationship broke up when you headed to college. You probably had him scared to death with visions of five kids and several dogs by the second date.”
Tracey smiled. “You have to admit, the tactic does shake off the weak-kneed pretty quickly.” She looked back at Daniel. “Did Marie tell you about the painting that was offered to the gallery? A classic Monet, for sale if she didn’t want to purchase it herself. All the publicity she’s having being the reason he thought she could get him the best price.”
Daniel glanced at Marie. “Lots of changes coming.”
“I recommended a dealer in New York. I might spring for better donuts and coffee for the browsers at the gallery, but I really don’t want to replace my current clients who might wear boots and construction coats with a set who want champagne and marble floors.”
“Judging a bit on appearances, I think, but I concede the point. There’s a comfort level the gallery has right now that would be a shame to lose.” He picked up his coffee. “I promised you both a tour of Henry’s home. Would you like to head over now? It’s worth the time if only to see how a prior generation solved some of those money decisions.”
Tracey glanced at Marie. “Yes, now would be a good time, Daniel.”
Late Sunday afternoon, Luke motioned Connor and Marsh toward his living room. The cops paused when they saw Sam already there but gamely entered the room and perched on the armrests of the easy chairs.
“Anything seem off with the sisters this afternoon? Anything to suggest Amy has called them?” Luke asked, looking between the two men as he took a seat on the couch.
“Marie teased me about getting her the turtle; she didn’t seem that distracted to me,” Connor replied, looking over at Marsh for his opinion.
“Tracey was enthralled with some waterfall she saw built in beside the fireplace in Henry’s living room—that’s pretty conclusive she wasn’t pondering very heavy thoughts,” Marsh agreed.
Luke looked at his watch. The news conference had been Friday morning; they were past fifty hours now. Amy had already made town—he was sure of it. If she was alive, she was here.
“She’ll call me, Luke,” Sam remarked.
“I hope so. Is there any way we can find her if she’s here and burrowing her way into town again? any pattern we can watch for? Names? Hotels? Anything that might be predictable?”
“I doubt she’s using a name I would know, and she’s a chameleon for how she changes up her behavior. Beyond someone spotting her near her sisters or the new cousin, there’s not much hope of figuring out where she would have settled into town.”
Connor ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got to tell the sisters, Chief. We got through the weekend, but next week they are planning a private party for Tuesday night so friends can stop in and celebrate with them; Marie is talking about reopening the gallery for business; Tracey plans to head back to college toward the end of the week.…”
Luke knew it was necessary. “I’ll ask Daniel to arrange something for tomorrow around noon, down at the office, and we’ll break the news to the sisters then.” He looked over at Sam. “Do we have anything else out of New York?”
“Richard Wise is trying to run his organization from prison, but his grip is sliding. Most of those still around consider this old business best forgotten, and as for leaving New York—they aren’t in a hurry to do so. They go out of town right now, someone will use the opportunity to take their turf. But there are a few down in the ranks who would be of concern. I’ve got photos and names of the most likely dozen and a promise from New York to hear if they suddenly turn up missing from their normal haunts.”
“The wiretaps giving anything?”
“They know they are tapped and aren’t using the phones. I asked New York to probe. It’s a whispered legend that Amy Griffin took Richard’s money and got away with it. And they know the sisters have come into money. It’s not the fact they know I’m worried about—it’s what Richard Wise is still able to do about it. And that isn’t entirely clear.”
“The shooter they think killed the boyfriend—he’s on the list?”
“Still alive, in his fifties, and semiretired from the business as best the cops can tell. Richard Wise went to jail, and the others in the organization weren’t eager to take on the guy’s services—afraid not only that he knows too much but that age might be making him sloppy and more likely to get caught. And he’s probably got his own reasons for wanting a quieter life right now—the cops would love to convict him of at least seven hits they think he was involved with; he’s staying out of the business for a reason.”
“Amy was at the scene of that shooting; she could identify him.” She’d never said that when giving her version of events, but Luke had read the report. A lady had been in the car and had been seen being chased from the scene: Amy. She’d seen her boyfriend murdered and been lucky to escape that night alive. “If they want to make a case against him, an eyewitness to a hit is a nice place to start. Tell New York he’s at the top of our list for news of his movements. He’ll have the most cause to want her dead.”
“I’ll convey it.”
He could keep the two sisters alive if he surrounded them with enough security, but it was an open-ended problem. They had to figure out how to end this for good. They needed Amy alive and well and able to finally testify and put away those who were a threat to herself and her family. Any other route just left the sisters open targets.
He looked at Connor. “What else has happened since the news conference that might be trouble?”
Connor grimaced. “The tabloid reporters are getting aggressive. They tried to stop the car Marie and Tracey were in this morning to get a few quotes. Daniel had sent the car, and it was one of Silver’s guys driving. He handled it without running one of the reporters over, so we’ll call that one a wash. Bryce has the sisters at about two hundred phone calls now—the gamut of those seeking money and those wanting to help them invest it. One woman claimed to be their aunt’s sister; another wanted information on why Marie looked like a twin of her cousin. Both are nonstarters. Two clear threats among the calls, but the calls were traced down to psychiatric hospitals and the appropriate staff notified.”
“Do Marie and Tracey know about the calls?”
“No.”
“Let’s leave it that way.”
“They won’t be hearing it from us,” Marsh agreed. He looked at his watch. “I’m taking Tracey out to dinner, and unless I’m mistaken Connor is hoping to take a slice of Marie’s time tonight, so we’d best be making tracks.”
“I only mentioned I was thinking about it,” Connor informed his partner, but he was smiling.
Luke thought of the two of them one day being married to sisters and didn’t know if he was personally ready for it. “Thanks, guys. I’ll let you know what time Daniel arranges for tomorrow. Sam, stick around a minute,” he requested as Sam rose too.
His officers headed out, and Luke waited until he heard the door close. “Tell me more about the guy they think shot the boyfriend.”
Luke’s dogs were roaming his backyard, and his cat was wandering underfoot looking for more handouts. Luke lifted the lid on the grill and turned the steaks. Sam had declined staying for a meal, but the meat had needed to be used
tonight so he was cooking more than he could eat.
He was getting too old to deal with the lingering tension that came with waiting for something to happen. It ate at a man, consumed his thoughts, and no matter how much he tried to push aside the fact in the end it really wasn’t his decision that would matter, it still did. He wanted Amy alive and back safely with her family. For the man who had lost the money and for the shooter who knew Amy was a witness, there was nothing old and forgotten about this case. Luke grew more concerned with every passing hour that this was going to end in another tragedy, and he’d had enough of those in his town.
The phone rang.
He’d set it on the picnic table next to his glass of iced tea and the barbeque sauce. He reached over for the phone. “Granger.”
“It’s Amy.”
The meat sizzling on the grill seemed overly loud, the dogs following scents through the bushes like crashing bricks. He pushed away the sensation of being pulled back in time and simply smiled, hoping it would be conveyed in his voice and help lower the tension he could hear in her first words. “Hey there, lady. You kept my card.”
“Memorized the numbers.”
Silence lengthened.
“You’re not pushing. Thank you.”
“I’m aware how hard it was just to dial. You okay?” he asked softly. He wasn’t going to put her as crying, but she did sound at her limit.
“Yeah. They’re safe?”
“Yes.” He took the steaks off the grill and closed the lid to burn out the charcoal bricks.
“I need to see you.”
“Just tell me when and where; I’ll be there.”
“You’ll need a pen.”
He already had it and his pocket pad of paper out. “Go ahead.”
He wrote down the directions she gave him and searched his memory to put a location to the spot. Then it clicked. She was across the lake from his own hunting cabin, probably able to sit out on the dock and watch his place with binoculars. He’d inherited the cabin from his father and never had the desire to sell it. The land was registered a county over and only with first initials, but she’d done her homework and found it.
“You got the exact location from that?” she stressed.
“I did.”
She’d chosen a good spot to meet. His place was remote, isolated, but several roads in and out of the area. And if car lights showed anywhere near the address she’d given him, she’d be long gone, knowing someone had been listening in to the call. The lady was more than just wary—she was frightened.
“It has to be tonight, after it gets dark.”
“Three hours. And if you need to wave off, go; the second number you have will come directly to me until you can call in again,” he promised.
“Thanks.”
He held the phone for a good minute after it went silent, thinking, replaying her words. No signs it had been a forced call on her part, no signs she had a gun to her head at the moment. Just one very frightened lady who didn’t strike him as easily frightened even after everything she had been through.
He could ask Marsh and Connor to join him; he could ask Jonathan Silver for some guys. He could, but he didn’t call them. In the back of his mind was the fact there was a dead cop in Detroit. If someone came searching for information, he would rather have that fury directed at him than at one of his officers. His gear was already in his car. It might be three hours before she appeared, but he could do some looking around of his own in that time.
He brought out a metal pan for the steaks and covered them with foil, slid the tray into a sack, and added the dish of scalloped potatoes he’d had warming in the oven. He was spending his life feeding her, but it was a small way to at least offer her something tangible to help her relax.
He picked up his coat and gloves and whistled for the dogs.
The cabin was cold, dark, and smelled a touch musty, but Luke knew that would soon change as it came back to life. So many good memories with his dad were here—the vacations fishing, hiking in the woods, trying to find a deer during hunting season. Luke slid the food into the oven, turned the temperature to keep the tray warm, and then set about checking the fireplace flue and lighting a stack of the dryer logs. They flamed quickly and soon roared, casting off heat. In an hour the comfort level in here would come up several notches.
He wasn’t worried about someone getting close enough to be trouble; his dogs were out now, roaming around the cabin grounds. He’d offered the dogs the jacket Amy had left behind years before that he’d kept folded in a storage box to give them a hint of her scent, and they would treat her now as a friend. But anyone else coming near—he’d have warning.
Amy had walked away from so much after the jewelry-store murders—the house, the vehicle, her things—and left him dealing with a missing person’s report filed by her friends, which he could only work in vague ways. His reassurances she had left town to get away from the press hadn’t been adequate words for any of her friends. The bank had eventually taken back the house and auctioned off the contents; he’d used the key under the frog before that happened to let himself into the place one last time to retrieve a box of the things he thought she might want back one day. It had been more an act of hope than of planning ahead, but he was glad now he’d done it.
The fire going strong and the screen in place, he left the lights in the cabin itself dimmed and picked up the bag of gear he had brought in with him. Most of it was military gear, acquired through arrangements with the local national guard. Night-vision goggles didn’t solve as many problems as civilians thought, but they were one of the tools that could help. Someone after Amy, following her, that was the real risk.
He settled outside on the back deck and began to listen and look. The night was cold, growing colder, but he sat in stillness and slowly his senses became tuned in to the smaller movements around him. The leaves rustling as small animals scurried across, the wind in the trees, the lighter sounds of water moving on the lake, and the occasional swift flight of a bird hunting at night.
It was peaceful out here, and as the time wore by he felt himself relaxing.
What’s going to give first, God? Nothing happens without a plan and purpose behind it. That inherited money can either be a good thing or a very bad thing for the sisters’ future. I worry about it being more trouble than anyone expects, of danger staying around and shadowing them for months to come. There has to be a way to put this family back together, to restore justice to events that are far from just. Amy needs a life back; she’s lost so many years living on the run, staying one step ahead of the threat. It’s time, God, time to answer my prayers and let me solve this. I’m not sure what step has to come next. Amy’s got to have the courage to trust me, and I know that won’t be an easy thing to ask of her.
Luke wondered at times if his life had come together for just such days as this—so many past tragedies and investigations had passed by that when there was a way to stop violence there was very little he wouldn’t do to try and intervene. His sister had hugged him after hearing the news he had made police chief and then cried on him too. She understood the pressures of becoming police chief and the reality of what it would mean for her dream of him settling down to marriage and family. It didn’t preclude it, but it did mean choices were being made for his time and energy and focus, and it would slide getting married further into the background and longer into the future. She loved him, and she understood what life took away even as it gave more responsibility.
And maybe because that was his past, Luke understood better who Amy was and a few of the sacrifices she had made for her family over the past years. She had set aside much of her life and a career to carry the responsibility of seeing justice done—turning in the evidence of those bribed, cleaning up a criminal organization because she’d unexpectedly been thrust into that responsibility. She hadn’t abdicated the task, declared it too hard; she’d accepted and bore it as best she knew how. But everything had an ending, and she was
entering that final chapter now. He just hoped he was going to be adequate help to her as it unfolded. There was being prepared and there was being able to prevent—and he knew better than to hope he could prevent the trouble coming. The best he could likely do was be in place to stop it.
He heard her before he saw her, because the dogs heard her and moved together to the edge of thicker woods. She’d come around the lake, it appeared.
“Are you Chester or Wilks?”
Luke smiled as the soft words drifted his way. She’d knelt to greet the dogs, and they were going ecstatic with the belly rubs. She walked his way, his two shadows having transferred their loyalties already. It had to be something about women—they did that with his sister too.
He waited until she was about fifteen feet out. “Hello, Amy.”
“Luke.”
“I see you remembered their names.”
“I’ve a good memory that way.” She walked up the two steps to the back deck to join him. She looked thinner than he remembered, the change obvious in her face and her hands, and her smile was there but not nearly as easy as it had once been.
“Why don’t you warm up inside for a couple minutes. How many do you think were tailing you?”
“There’s been two pretty persistently, on and off, for quite a while now. But I don’t think they were able to pick up my trail coming toward town.”
“Okay. The dogs can go in with you if you like.” She smiled and snapped her fingers. The dogs slipped inside with her.
Luke picked up the binoculars again and turned his attention back to the area, searching, thinking. She’d gone cold twenty months ago. She’d been dodging someone after her that full time, never able to shake them … that spoke more of an investigative team than the enforcer type who would want to be able to do his job in a matter of days, not spend months on it. Even if they hadn’t caught her trail here, they would have seen the same news conference. There was no need to try and follow her when they knew exactly where she was heading. They would have just leapfrogged ahead and been patiently waiting for her to appear. But there was always a chance—Luke watched until he was certain the area was quiet.
The Witness Page 12