Payback

by Jonnie Jacobs

  The minute Marta was off the phone, she called Larry Gray. She was pleasantly surprised when he picked up.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry about Carol,” he said when she’d explained the reason for her call. “How terrible. I’m afraid I can’t help you, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Client confidentiality issues.”

  “But she’s dead.”

  “Still, it’s information Carol asked for. For all I know it could implicate you in some way. Maybe the two of you are at odds.”

  “That’s silly. We were business partners and friends.” Marta had an idea. “What if her husband gives you permission?”

  “It still wouldn’t be right.”

  Marta felt her cheeks grow hot. Frustration. “I can find someone else to get the information for me,” she said. “But in the interest of time, it would be better if you could help me out. Please, I’ll pay you. Pretend I’m hiring you right now.”

  Gray hesitated, then sighed. “Never mind paying me. Carol’s retainer more than covers it. Just give me a minute.” Over the phone Marta heard footsteps and then the shuffle of papers. “Here it is,” Gray said. “The cell number she gave me belongs to someone named Conrad. J.D. Conrad. Sixty-four years old.”

  “She told me that much. What else?”

  “He’s a senior partner at Morgan, Thomas and Webb in New York. As far as I can tell he specializes in business and finance.”

  “Any relation to Todd Wilson or Tim Whitaker?”

  “Not that I was able to find. I’ll give you the same advice I gave Carol. Forget it. It’s probably a stolen phone or a hacked account. Digging further along those lines is liable to be like stirring up a hornet’s nest.”

  If that’s what it took to find Jamie, Marta would do it. “What about the names Todd Wilson and Tim Whitaker? What did you find on them?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Neither is an unusual name. I searched a lot of databases, but nothing seemed to match what Carol had given me.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Afraid so.”

  That didn’t make sense. “But she left me a message right before she was killed. She said she’d learned something ‘very interesting’ about him. Those were her words.”

  “It wasn’t from me.”

  How else could she have learned it? “Can you keep looking?” Marta asked.

  “Without something more to go on, it would be a waste of time. I’m sorry. I wish I could have come up with more.”

  Marta was sorry, too. But at least she had Conrad’s name and number. It was a starting point.

  Chapter 30

  Marta’s hand was shaking as she punched in Conrad’s number at the law firm. Did he know Todd? Would he know how to find him?

  She expected a layer of secretaries, and worried she might not be able to talk her way through, but after asking the receptionist for J.D. Conrad, her call went straight to the attorney himself.

  “Conrad, here,” he said, picking up on the second ring.

  She introduced herself, then launched into the reason for her call. “You might find this question odd, but it’s important. I’m calling to ask about a cell phone listed in your name.” She read off the number. “Is it yours?”

  “What I find odd,” Conrad said after a moment, “is that you are the second person in the past week to contact me about this.”

  “Was the other person Carol Hogan?”

  “The name rings a bell.” His voice was low and gravelly and not particularly warm.

  “I’m sorry to bother you again, but she—”

  ”I take it you are acquainted with her, so you must know I can’t help you.”

  “Carol was killed a few days ago,” Marta explained. “We didn’t have a chance to talk about your conversation before she died.” Marta paused, waiting for Conrad to jump in. When he didn’t, she added. “So I don’t know what you told her.”

  “I told her that the name on the wireless account is mine, but it’s not a phone I use personally.”

  “I see.” Although she wasn’t sure she really did. “Can you tell me who does use it?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Marta hadn’t anticipated this. “He uses the name Todd Wilson,” she said. “It’s probably an alias. He sometimes goes by Tim Whitaker. I need to reach him. Please, it’s important.”

  “Your friend mentioned something about a potential client and some irregularities. As I explained to her, I’m unable to help.”

  “But you must know who uses that phone,” Marta insisted.

  “My answer stands. Now if you’ll—”

  “Wait. Please hear me out. My daughter was abducted by this man.”

  Conrad was silent a moment. “Abducted?”

  “Right.” As good as abducted, Marta told herself. She was more than willing to bend the truth if that would help find Jamie.

  “Recently?”

  “Five days ago. We’ve contacted the police, of course.” She hoped the threat of police involvement might make him more inclined to help.

  Conrad sighed heavily. “I’m truly sorry.” he said, and hung up.

  *****

  When Gordon returned home, Marta filled him in on her conversation with Conrad. She’d been pacing circles for the past hour, waiting for him. “Why would the account be in his name if it’s not his phone?”

  “Could be for a son,” Gordon offered, “or a friend without a credit history of his own. Or maybe it’s a number associated with the law firm. That would explain why he’s so secretive about it.”

  “Whatever the reason, you’d think he’d be nervous about covering for criminal activity.”

  Gordon frowned. “Maybe he knows nothing criminal happened.”

  “But Jamie—”

  “Wasn’t actually abducted. Remember? She ran off on her own.”

  Left unsaid was the accusation Marta knew was never far from Gordon’s mind: Ran off with a man you brought into our lives.

  “But if he—”

  “We don’t even know for certain she’s with him,” Gordon reminded her. He folded his arms and glared. “We don’t know what’s happened to her.”

  “But she called him.”

  “After an argument with you.”

  “Gordon, please. I feel guilty enough without your rubbing my face in it all the time.”

  “All the guilt in the world won’t bring Jamie home.”

  He grabbed an apple and went upstairs, coming down again shortly after. Without a word, he marched out to the garage to work on his Mustang.

  Marta bit back tears. She understood that he’d needed to go into work this morning. She even accepted that he might want to tinker in the garage. But she’d never felt so alone.

  She clung blindly to the hope that he’d eventually forgive her, because she couldn’t bear the thought it might not be true.

  When the doorbell rang, she jumped to answer it. A uniformed police officer stood on the porch. He wasn’t anyone she recognized, and he’d come alone. Did that mean good news or bad?

  Her heart was in her throat as she opened the door.

  “Sorry to bother you,” he said.

  “No problem. Finding Jamie is all I care about.” She was surprised how calm she sounded because she didn’t feel calm. Opening the door wider, she invited him in. “Shall I get my husband? He’s in the garage.”

  “Actually, I’m here about the death of your business partner, Carol Hogan.”

  “Carol? Not Jamie?” Marta felt weak with relief, but also oddly disappointed.

  “I’m sorry, I wish I had news about your daughter.”

  Thank God he was aware that Jamie was missing.

  Handing her his card, the officer introduced himself as Officer Beck. He followed her to the living room where he sat stiffly on the edge of the couch. He was tall and thin and relatively young. He cleared his throat before speaking.

  “Are you aware of anyone who had a grievance against Ms. Hogan?” />
  “A grievance? We do public relations, mostly for nonprofits and small businesses. If a client isn’t happy with our work, we revise it until they are. It’s really a cooperative effort.”

  “What about her personal life?”

  Marta shook her head. “People liked her.”

  “How about family?”

  “She had a brother she didn’t see very often. Her parents live in Florida. She didn’t talk a lot about them but I think they got along.” Marta could only imagine what they must be going through right now.

  Officer Beck cleared his throat again. “And at home? How was her marriage?”

  “Good. She and Mark had only been married a couple of years. A second marriage for Mark, a first for her.”

  “No hint of infidelity?”

  Marta shook her head, trying to ignore the irony of asking her about infidelity. “They were like newlyweds really. Except . . .” She hesitated. “I don’t think it’s anything important, but Carol was upset the other day. Said she and Mark had a fight. I was surprised because I didn’t think they ever fought.”

  Beck seemed to ponder that. “Did she say what it was about?”

  “Something to do with his long hours, I think. Why all the questions? Her death was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine.”

  “She was hit by a car,” Marta reminded him.

  “Not just hit; more like run over.”

  “You think it might have been deliberate?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “My God.” Marta sat back in her chair. Who would want to hurt Carol? It wasn’t uncommon for the police to suspect a spouse in the case of a suspicious death, often with good reason, but Mark? “You really think someone might have done it on purpose?”

  Beck was already on his feet. “Be sure to give me a call if you think of anything.”

  “Of course.” As she walked him to the door, she remembered Carol’s message the night she was killed.

  “It may be nothing,” Marta said, “but there was one person Carol had a disagreement with. A potential client.” A stretch of the truth, but a convenient one. “He’s the man we think my daughter might have run off with.”

  She explained as best she could, leaving herself out of it.

  “Ms. Hogan was having him investigated for using an alias?” Beck looked perplexed.

  “We need to know who we’re dealing with.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy him. “Did he threaten her at all?”

  “Not that I know of. But she sent me a text the evening she died. She said she’d discovered something ‘interesting’ about him.”

  Beck scratched his chin. “You’re not by any chance telling me this so that we’ll double down on our effort to find this man, are you?”

  “No, it’s true. I’m not sure it means anything, but it might.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind.” He trotted down the steps to his car.

  Carol’s death intentional? Marta shuddered. Who would do such a thing? Mark? She couldn’t imagine it, even with the recent fights. But then again, the marriage might have been rockier than Carol let on. Todd? Possibly, although it seemed a stretch. But if he had . . . might he hurt Jamie, too?

  Another thought hit her. Had Jamie been there when it happened? It was, after all, the night she’d run away with him.

  No. Jamie couldn’t have been involved in Carol’s death. Please, not that.

  Marta and Gordon had already torn Jamie’s room apart. They’d searched her computer, her emails, her Facebook page, the messages on her phone, and turned up nothing that would help them find her. But Marta wanted to look through the messages again in light of what she’d learned about Carol’s death.

  She took Jamie’s phone into the den. There were two new texts. One was from Harmony, who was “testing” to see if Jamie would respond. The second was like a hammer to Marta’s chest.

  A message from Todd.

  She clicked on it.

  Hey, Marta. Miss me yet? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Chapter 31

  The house was quiet when Gordon came in from the garage to wash up. There was no sound of activity in the kitchen despite the fact that it was dinner time. No radio or television playing in the background. No response when he called Marta’s name.

  Was she hurt? Mad that he wasn’t more forgiving? He felt guilty about meeting Todd behind her back, but she’d been unfaithful. On the scale of wrongs, she won hands down.

  He wasn’t ready to forgive Marta yet, but he didn’t want to lose her. She and Jamie were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and bottom line was, he still loved her.

  What if she’d left him? Or been attacked? They didn’t really know where Todd was or what he was up to. What if he’d abducted Marta, too? Mother and daughter.

  Gordon called out again, louder, and again there was no answer.

  Alarmed, he made a sweep of the rooms. No sign of her, but nothing was disturbed. Finally, he noticed the back door was ajar. He stepped outside, half expecting to find her beaten or dead.

  Instead, she was sitting on the deck steps, arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the yard.

  “Marta?”

  She turned with a blank expression. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You had me worried. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

  “I came out to get some air.” Her voice was as flat as her expression. Gordon wondered if she’d downed a handful of sleeping pills.

  “Have you been out here long?”

  “I don’t know. What time is it?”

  “Almost seven.” He sat on the steps next to her. The setting sun was below the horizon and the air had turned chilly. “Has something happened?”

  “We got a text. Or rather, I did.”

  “From Jamie?” His pulse quickened.

  She shook her head. “From Todd. He sent it to Jamie’s phone.”

  “You mean she’s not with him?”

  “She’s with him.” Marta handed him Jamie’s cell phone. “See for yourself.”

  Hi Marta. Miss me yet? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  “Are you sure this is from Todd? It’s not his cell number.”

  “Of course it’s from Todd. It’s probably a disposable phone.”

  Gordon read the short message again with rolling waves of understanding. Instinctively, his gut knotted at the intimation of Marta’s affair, brief though it might have been. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he thought of himself before his daughter.

  “He doesn’t say Jamie’s with him.”

  “He doesn’t have to say it.”

  “We should call the police.”

  “I did. They didn’t seem much interested.”

  Given the obscure nature of the message, Gordon could understand why. “Maybe we should try texting him back.”

  “And say what?”

  “How about, ‘Let us talk to Jamie.’ ”

  “He’s not going to let us talk to her. This is a game to him. Why give him the satisfaction of playing along?”

  “We need to do something,” he pointed out.

  She stood and brushed the dirt from the seat of her jeans. “Let’s go inside. There’s more news, and I could use a drink.”

  “News about Jamie?”

  “About Todd. Sort of.” She moved into the kitchen.

  “A cop came by when you were in the garage. He’s looking into Carol’s death. He asked if I could think of anyone who might be angry with her. He even asked about Mark. They think her death might not have been an accident.”

  “They think she was murdered?”

  “They’re not sure.” Marta went to the fridge and pulled out an open bottle of Pinot Grigio.

  “Is that a good idea?” Gordon hadn’t ruled out the possibility of sleeping pills. Her lifelessness scared him.

  She turned to glare at him. “Are you my keeper?”

  “I’m
worried about you.”

  “Oh, that’s rich. Why would you worry about me when you can’t stand me?”

  “I don’t want to fight, Marta.”

  “Fine, we won’t fight.” She poured herself a glass. “You want one?”

  He started to say no, then changed his mind. “Yes, please.”

  “At first I couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt Carol,” Marta continued. She poured a second glass and handed it him. “Then I thought of Todd.”

  Gordon looked at her, puzzled.

  “Carol hired that investigator to dig up information on Todd. And we know that she talked to the attorney, J.D. Conrad, the man listed on Todd’s cell account.”

  “Are you suggesting the attorney had her killed?”

  “Not the attorney,” Marta said. “Todd.”

  “Why would he kill Carol?”

  “I don’t know, but she was trying to dig up information about him. Maybe she found something. She left me a message implying that she had.”

  “That’s quite a leap.” But not out of the realm of possibility. Gordon was beginning to realize he hadn’t known Todd at all.

  “What if he’s ruthless as well as crazy? If he killed Carol . . .” Marta looked at him with an expression that sent a chill down his spine.

  “We have to find Jamie,” he said.

  Chapter 32

  “You want anything to eat?” Todd asked when they pulled up to the gas pump.

  Jamie shook her head. They’d been driving all day, and mostly she was tired. The only radio stations they could pick up were either religious, which neither of them wanted to listen to, or country, which Todd liked but Jamie hated. She decided their taste in music was very different. He’d never even heard of Daft Punk, Robin Thicke, or Kelly Clarkson.

  “You might want to pee,” he said with a nod toward the station. “With a full tank of gas we ought to be able to make it the rest of the way without stopping.” He got out of the car and began to pump the gas.

  She did need to pee, although she didn’t relish the idea of using the restroom here. The station was in the middle of nowhere and looked like it had been around since cars were first invented. But she followed the sign that pointed her around the side of the stained stucco building. At least she hadn’t had to ask the attendant for a key.