They sat in silence, Evan not wanting to intrude on Hanna’s pain. He was right about one thing as Evan knew only too well—fate doesn’t pull any punches.
‘The long and the short of it,’ Hanna said eventually, his voice thick, ‘is I took the coward’s way out. I’ve made you sit here and listen to all of this, when I could’ve summed it up in those three words. Coward’s way out.’
He drummed each word into the desk top with the Zippo, each one harder than the last.
‘And now I want to make it right.’
No pressure, Evan thought to himself again.
***
‘THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE YOU need to know.’
It struck Evan that everybody has a worst part until last tone of voice. Hanna was using his now, his face equally serious.
‘You have to be very careful of Hugh McIntyre. He has substantial gambling debts with some very nasty people. Eastern Europeans, Russians probably. He’s got nothing to give them. They’ll be getting impatient. I’m sure you know better than me the methods those sorts of people use.’
Evan didn’t miss the implied criticism in there—this was Evan’s grubby, unsavory world they were talking about now.
‘McIntyre thinks if he sticks with Lisa then all his money problems will go away, because I’ve got nobody else to leave it to. And he’s right—at the moment.’
‘If he thinks that, you’re in danger too. You haven’t said anything about your illness. As far as they’re concerned you could go on for another twenty years. If things get desperate, he might think about helping you on your way.’
Hanna gave that an irritated head shake.
‘It’s not McIntyre himself we need to worry about, it’s the people he owes money to. If they find out there’s a potential goldmine and the only inconvenient thing between them and it is me—’
‘You really think he’d be so stupid as to tell them?’
Hanna sucked air in between his teeth. Nothing good ever follows that noise.
‘He might—if they put enough pressure on him. He’s very bitter because I didn’t bail them out. He hates me, blames me. And he’s vindictive.’
Evan didn’t need to feel his ear to convince himself how true that was. Nor did he need to look at his watch to know what time it had got to—it was guilt time, one of his favorite times of day.
Because it didn’t matter how much Hanna said he didn’t blame him, he felt responsible for everything Hanna described. It was the photos he took of Lisa and McIntyre that pushed Kevin Stanton over the edge. The fact that the root problem was McIntyre sticking it to Stanton’s wife didn’t make him feel any better.
‘There is a worse scenario than all this,’ Hanna said, almost as if he wanted to increase Evan’s discomfort.
‘Nuclear holocaust?’
That brought a smile to Hanna’s eyes if not his lips, the first for a long time.
‘That too. I’m sure you know’—there it was again, reference to Evan being part of life’s nastier side—‘that these people are always looking for a legitimate cover for their operations. If McIntyre tells them he’s about to take control of a massive corporation, they might think, forget the money, we’ll take control through him. Everything I’ve spent my life working for becomes a vehicle to launder drug money, or worse.’
If it wasn’t for his guilt and his own desire to make amends, Evan would have told him it was all getting too big for a small fry like him.
‘What if I find an heir? He or she will be in danger too. Do I approach them?’
‘No. Speak to me first. Only me. I can see from your face you think I’m being melodramatic, paranoid even. I think I’m being followed. I tried to lose them’—he made quotes in the air with his fingers—‘coming here today, but I’m a businessman, not a secret agent.’
He got up and walked over to the window, looked out at the parking lot. Evan worked hard at keeping a straight face as he stood to the side and peeked out. He came around from behind his desk and saw Hanna to the door.
‘I’m a good judge of people,’ Hanna said, resting his hand on Evan’s shoulder. ‘You have to be to get anywhere in business. Despite what I said, you blame yourself for this mess. Don’t. Kate Guillory made a good call when she recommended you.’
He squeezed Evan’s shoulder and smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
‘Sure you don’t want to know what else she said about you? You’d be surprised.’
Evan steered him quickly through the door.
‘Quite sure, thank you. Seeing as you mention her, can I discuss this with her? I get a lot of useful information from her.’
Hanna thought about it before answering.
‘I’ve got no problem with you telling her you’re looking for somebody, but you can’t say who or why. You better hope she likes providing information without being told why.’
‘Great. I can just hear her saying business as usual.’
Hanna gave him a knowing smile and left.
As soon as the door was shut, Evan retrieved the Zippo lighter from where Hanna had left it on the table and tried it again. After a half-dozen fruitless attempts, he snapped the lid closed again and dropped it in his pocket. Now he didn’t know what to think.
He went to the window and watched Hanna drive away, then placed the side of his head on the wall and closed his eyes.
Hopefully Guillory had some answers for him.
Chapter 5
HUGH MCINTYRE COASTED TO the curb, fifty yards back from the parking lot Frank Hanna’s quarter-million-dollar Bentley just turned into. He cut the engine, nodded to himself, a satisfied smile on his lips. He knew that office block, knew exactly who Hanna was going to see.
That bastard Buckley.
McIntyre broke into the building immediately after Buckley took the incriminating photos of him with Lisa, hoping to find and destroy all the copies. He wasn’t about to forget any time soon, forget about the man who’d brought his life crashing down around his ears. The man who was responsible for the mess he was in now. He’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment, and now it looked as if fate had intervened in the form of Frank Hanna, the man he hated most in the world—after Buckley.
Before things got out of hand the previous evening, Lisa said the old man had been acting very strangely lately—ever since her husband hanged himself in the garage and set all this shit in motion. And it wasn’t just a reaction to finding out his daughter had been screwing around. No, the old bastard wasn’t sentimental like that, he was up to something.
Which is why McIntyre had been tailing him the last few days. It made him laugh, the way the old fool took such a circuitous route getting anywhere, as if he knew he was being followed. As if he thought he could be inconspicuous in a car that cost more than most people’s houses.
And as for that stunt he pulled this morning, throwing the car in front of the semi-trailer—he’d have done them all a favour if the truck had turned him into roadkill.
His stupid games didn’t make any difference anyway. The GPS tracker Lisa clamped to the underside of his car the last time she went over did all the hard work. All he had to do was follow along a discreet distance behind. He was just having a bit of fun this morning. After last night’s fight with Lisa, he wanted to rattle his cage, see what shook loose.
Something had to happen soon. He needed to get away from Lisa. She was driving him crazy. It wasn’t just the big fight either. Ever since Stanton’s death she’d been so sickeningly clingy. If it wasn’t for the money, he’d have dumped her and moved on. Trouble was, she knew it. He’d catch her looking at him and he’d see the malicious gleam in her eye, challenging him. And he would smile sweetly, say something nice, try not to bite through his tongue. Bitch. Stanton had been right.
Following Hanna had paid off, his suspicions had been proved right. Nobody goes to the lengths he was going to unless they’ve got something to hide. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he’d find out soon enough.
>
A half-hour later Hanna’s Bentley nosed out into the traffic and turned left, back towards where McIntyre waited. He ducked down out of sight as Hanna blew past him, gave him thirty seconds, then made a U-turn and set off after him, the GPS leading the way.
Hanna’s next stop off—an up-market doctors’ practice—caused another piece of the puzzle to fall into place. Lisa already told him how her father wasn’t looking so good lately. As if he cared. Hanna never had a day sick in his life, but now he was looking a little off-color. He put on a brave front, but she knew him well enough to see through it. Ever since her mother had passed away, she’d almost been looking for signs of ill-health.
And now, here he was.
McIntyre thought about the journey from Buckley’s office to where he now sat. He hadn’t paid much attention on the way over, his mind full of the implications of Hanna’s visit to Buckley, letting the GPS tracker guide him. Now he thought about it, the old man had taken a very roundabout route to get here too. He didn’t want anybody knowing about this particular visit either. Maybe he wanted to spare Lisa’s feelings, vulnerable as she was after her mother’s and then her husband’s death.
No, that wasn’t it. He was up to something.
A police cruiser turned into the street a hundred yards further on, drove slowly towards him. It was that sort of neighborhood. It had been a good morning’s work, time to go. He’d get the name of Hanna’s doctor from Lisa and come back later, see what he could learn. He pulled away from the curb, nodded and smiled at the two cops as their cars passed. He’d have to be careful when he came back.
Chapter 6
EVAN GOT OUT HIS phone and stared at the text that came in five minutes after Hanna arrived. He’d been itching to look at it the whole time.
And if it wasn’t a threat, he didn’t know what was.
He suspected as much, made a conscious decision to not try to read it surreptitiously while Hanna was there. He fished a piece of paper out of his wallet, unfolded it and laid it on the desk. The first four messages from Carl Hendricks.
I know where she is.
Nobody found the second level.
Shame Faulkner burned down the barns. Now you’ll never know.
You were so close.
He scrolled back through his messages and found the one that came through as he hid in Forrest St. John’s hayloft, the one that almost got him shot by Angel Garcia. He copied it onto the scrap of paper.
How’s it feel, Buckley?
That one had been personal, the first one to use his name. Finally, he added the one that arrived earlier while he was with Hanna.
Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.
The meaning was clear. The time for messages was over. The next phase was about to begin—direct, physical retribution.
He re-folded the scrap of paper, put it back in his wallet, pondering the question that had bugged him ever since he told Kate Guillory that Hendricks was stalking him. He hadn’t told her then the contents of the messages. Should he tell her now? On the one hand, the barely concealed threat was a definite escalation which needed to be taken seriously. On the other hand ...
He ripped a sheet of paper from his notebook and wrote out the messages again. He didn’t need to copy them from the scrap of paper in his wallet, he knew them by heart.
I know where she is.
You were so close.
How’s it feel, Buckley?
Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.
He smiled to himself. Nobody needed to know there were two more messages. The sequence still made perfect sense without the ones he’d omitted—a taunting escalation into a concealed threat. He couldn’t see why they’d want to see the original emails and texts—if they wanted to trace the sender, they didn’t need all of them. And if they did, he’d deal with that when it happened.
In the meantime, it gave him the opportunity to investigate the existence of a lower basement level. On his own. The last thing he needed was Guillory telling him not to be so stupid, saying it was obvious Hendricks was making it up to maximize his pain, with that look on her face that made him feel six years old.
Or, worse, preventing him from looking into it at all.
***
‘HANG OUT A LOT with multi-millionaire businessmen, do you?’
Evan slid into the booth opposite Guillory feeling very pleased with himself and waved the waitress over.
‘Whenever I get the chance, yeah. Better than some of the company I keep.’
‘I’ve told you not to listen to Donut.’
‘Don’t call him that.’
He grinned at her and ordered some coffee. She shook her head at the offer of a refill.
‘What should I call him?’
‘He likes Detective Ryder, it’s more respectful.’
‘I like Mr Buckley. Doesn’t happen very often though. I notice you’re not wearing lipstick today.’
She had a hard job keeping her open palm under control. It was such a perfect fit for the back of his head.
‘That’s because I’m working.’
‘Yeah, me too. I’ve got a new client.’
‘I know that—’
‘I suppose I should say thank you.’
‘You should, but I’m not holding my breath. I think Hanna plays golf with the Chief, something like that. The Chief told him to speak to me and Ryder.’
‘I heard about that. Buckley’s got the monopoly on stubborn and stupid.’
She smiled.
‘Yeah, you should’ve seen Ryder’s face when Hanna said he was going to hire you.’
‘Did you wear lipstick when you met with Hanna?’
She felt her palm flex again, saw him lean back in his seat out of range.
‘Looks like he doesn’t blame you for what happened to Stanton. Then again, you manage to do that perfectly well on your own. What’s he want you to do for him?’
He hesitated a moment to get his answers straight in his head. As Hanna said, sometimes it was as if he simply opened his mouth and let the wind blow his tongue around. He had to be more careful this time.
‘He wants me to find somebody.’
There was a long pause as she waited for more.
‘Don’t give too much away, Evan. Who? Why?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ he said, feeling ridiculous.
‘You’re not at liberty to say,’ she mimicked. ‘Do you mean you’re not allowed to tell me?’
‘Not only you. I can’t tell anybody.’
She suddenly grinned at him, her whole face lighting up. Lipstick or not, he was reminded how good she looked when she smiled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You. I can just imagine what’s going on inside your head. How am I going to get her to do most of the work for me if I can’t tell her what the job is?’
He tried to look sheepish, ended up laughing himself. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so transparent.
‘You’re right, it’s a thorny one.’
She leaned back and stretched, her hands linked behind her head, the smile still there.
‘You’ll find a way though.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Anything about it you can tell me without having to kill me afterwards?’
As often happened, his hand automatically went to his ear. It was enough for her.
‘McIntyre?’
Evan dropped his hand, nodded.
‘He’s involved, yes. What Hanna asked me to do will have a direct impact on him.’
‘As in, a direct negative impact.’
‘Oh yes. And for some very unpleasant people he’s mixed up with. He—’
She held up a hand, the smile fading from her lips.
‘I don’t want you to betray any client confidentiality, Evan. All I want to say is if this gets dangerous, you need to tell me. Remember, I’ve met you more than once before—I know exactly what you’re like. No heroics. If things get hairy, you call in the grown-ups.’
He turned his head as if looking to see if he could spot any. She took the opportunity to give it the slap it deserved.
‘Thank God for that,’ she said, the words riding out on a long exhale. ‘I’ve been itching to do that ever since you sat down.’
The thing was, Evan had met her before as well. Although she wasn’t as transparent as he was, he was getting to understand her better all the time. He wouldn’t have known it a few weeks ago, but he knew today that the playful slap and the words were only there to mask the concern she was determined he didn’t see.
The words Angel Garcia had spoken to him were never far from the front of his mind whenever he saw or spoke to her now.
Despite what she says about you, she sounds like she’s …fond of you.
It made him feel awful, slimy.
In his pocket and in his wallet, he had two pieces of paper—one with four messages written on it and one with six. For the life of him, he didn’t know which one he was going to show her when they got around to discussing Carl Hendricks, which would be any minute now.
His thoughts must have been written all over his face.
‘Hey, Buckley, what’s the matter with you?’
He shook his head, waved for the waitress to bring a refill.
‘You always order more coffee when you want to avoid talking about something. Did you know that?’
‘I’m thirsty, that’s all.’
‘Right. Why don’t you tell me about your trip to Kentucky? I spoke with Detective Garcia. He told me a few interesting things.’
Evan paid a lot of attention to the coffee refill, didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. He knew what was coming.
‘I hear you’ve got a little friend down there. Gina, isn’t it?’
He looked up at her, saw the smile on her lips. Maybe not all the way up to her eyes this time, the denim blue that he loved duller than usual.
‘Or was it the other one, Destiny? I get confused. Anyway, sounds like you had a fun time.’
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