by Cindy Cromer
Chapter Thirty-eight
She’d arrived at her home on Seabrook Island, South Carolina, in the early morning hours. Ginny now nestled under the covers of her bed in a deep slumber. She roused and turned on her side at an annoying and persistent ringing. In her half awakened state, she assumed it was the doorbell. Grumbling, she pulled the pillow over her head and burrowed deeper under the covers. That didn’t work, the noise continued to escalate. Someone banged loudly on the front door, the never ending piercing shrill of the bell continued.
“Dammit!” she yelled, now fully awake, certain that if she didn’t answer the door she’d never get back to sleep. “I’m coming, hold on!” Padding down the steps in fluffy slippers, she saw two men through the glass doorway. They both held badges in their hands. Annoyed, she flung the door open. The look she received in return from the two men shocked her. Intense, serious, and angry. She shrunk back before asking, “What is it?”
The taller of the two FBI agents led the introduction. “Ms. Spencer, you do still go by your maiden last name, correct?”
“Yes, would you mind telling me who you are? I’ve been traveling and was attempting to sleep.”
The second agent stepped forward to create a friendlier atmosphere. “Ma’am, we’re very sorry we interrupted your sleep but it’s imperative that we speak with you.” Holding his badge closer to Ginny, the man continued, “We’re FBI agents. I’m Agent Tim Poole and this is Senior Agent Ken Knight. We’ve been trying to reach you all week. If you would answer a few questions, we’ll be on our way as quickly as possible. Would you mind if we came in for a few minutes?”
Ginny realized the phone calls from her brother might have been more serious than she thought. She ushered the two FBI agents into her foyer and pointed toward the living room. Before she closed the door, she poked her head out to see if any of her nosey neighbors had witnessed the two suited men entering her home. She closed the glass door and made her way into the brightly lit, colorfully decorated, living room.
Ginny sat in the overstuffed love seat across from her unexpected guests. Each man had a notebook and pen, anxious to write down the details of the conversation. On a table at the other end of the room, the answering machine sat in Ginny’s line of vision. It blinked, blinked, blinked. Lots of messages. She cursed herself for not hitting play before this damned intrusion.
Ginny asked nonchalantly, “What questions could the FBI possibly have for me?”
Agent Poole, the more amicable and personable of the two, stood. Apparently he was going to take the lead. Senior Agent Knight settled comfortably in his chair. His eyes didn’t leave Ginny’s face. Ginny knew she was being studied. Her every movement scrutinized and analyzed, sure every twitch and gesture would be recorded in that damn notebook propped in Agent Knight’s hand. She might as well have been under a microscope.
Agent Poole began in a reassuring voice. “We don’t mean to upset you, Ms. Spencer, but we need to ask you some questions. Can you tell us where you’ve been?”
Ginny crossed her legs, uncrossed them, and then leaned back. She couldn’t find a comfortable position. She was nervous and Ken and Tim knew it. She noticed Ken Knight jot something down. “I’ve been in Maine. Has something happened?”
“Not yet, but your niece may be in some trouble.”
“How could Caitlin ever be in trouble, she’s perfect, didn’t you know that?” Arms crossed over her chest, she looked defiantly from Tim to Ken. Her confidence deflated like a popped balloon when Ken flipped through pages in his notebook. Dammit! She said the wrong thing and knew her voice projected fury and jealousy. She should have bought herself more time and asked which niece was in trouble. She cursed herself for giving away too much information. She knew she sat in the hot-seat when Ken Knight stood. A critical situation and she had to play it cool.
With notebook in hand, Ken asked, “Ms. Spencer, do you know a Mackenzie Zegar?”
Ginny’s body tensed. She answered the question and did not elaborate further. “Yes, I know him.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
She couldn’t lie. She already admitted she’d been in Maine. Surely if they had Max’s name, they knew where he lived.
“Yesterday, when I left Maine. What does Max have to do with Caitlin?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. When you left Maine yesterday, did Mackenzie Zegar say whether or not he’d be traveling in the next day or so?”
This question was easy. “Of course he’s traveling. He left for New York City to finalize a business deal. Is that all? If you don’t mind, I would much appreciate it if you gentlemen would be on your way so I may go back to sleep.”
“If you would be patient a while longer we’d appreciate it.” Ken paused and studied something in his notebook. He looked up at Ginny. “Have you ever met Macken…um excuse me you refer to him as Max. Have you ever met his wife or granddaughter?”
Inflamed and insulted, Ginny stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you take me for? I’m not involved with a married man. Max doesn’t have a wife or children. So how the hell could he have a grandchild? You must have the wrong person.”
Ginny caught the look Tim shot in Ken’s direction. She knew he would take over. She had to get them the hell out of here and check that answering machine. It continued to blink, blink, blink. What the hell was going on? Max had a wife? Was that where he went when he left her alone in Maine? He said he loved her and the deal he was working on could make the news. Was that a lie too?
Ken sat and Tim took over. “Ms. Spencer, please calm down. If it’s any reassurance, we haven’t been able to find any Mrs. Zegar either. Just a few more questions and we’ll leave you alone.”
“Please hurry. I don’t see where any of these questions are leading. You still haven’t told me what has happened to Caitlin!”
“Did you receive the birth announcement that Caitlin sent out when her daughter, Alexandra, was born?” Tim asked.
That stupid picture again. Why had it become the focal point of an investigation? Ginny received an intense stare from the agents, they didn’t waver, hell they didn’t even blink. She couldn’t be intimidated and lose it in front of these two men. She had to pull off this charade. She just had to.
“Yes, my niece sent me the birth announcement and picture.”
Ken and Tim looked at each in silent agreement. Ken took over again. “What picture is that?”
“Oh you know damn well what picture, the one everyone always talks about!” Realizing her fatal error, Ginny clasped her hand over her mouth for a moment before she attempted to conclude the meeting. “If you’re through, please leave, I’m very tired from driving most of the Eastern Seaboard.”
“We’re not quite through yet,” Ken continued. “Do you still have that picture?”
“No.”
“Why not? It was a great photo taken sixteen hours after the birth of Alexandra, the whole family looks great.”
“I misplaced it.”
“Has someone mentioned that picture recently?” Ken inquired.
Ginny knew Ken asked the question in an attempt to trip her up and rattle her. Well they succeeded, she was rattled but tried hard not to show it. She struggled for a response, came up with the perfect answer to satisfy the FBI agents and deflect suspicion off of herself. She needed some time to figure out what was happening and what part the damned picture played. Furthermore, she needed to find out what Max was up to.
Ginny began the set-up. “The last time I visited my brother Gary, he had that picture displayed on his fireplace mantel. He commented about how great Caitlin looked and couldn’t believe she’d just given birth. The same thing everyone always says.”
“Did Max Zegar ever mention your niece’s picture?”
Show time, Ginny had to lie her ass off. Anger pushed aside the insecurities she had previously exhibited. She refused to let herself be used as a pawn again by a man she tho
ught she loved. Attempting to imitate a confused look, she asked in surprise. “Why would Max want to know anything about my niece? He’s never met her.”
Ken looked at his notes once more. “Did you meet Ian Yates while you were in Maine?”
Perplexed by the question, but also relieved, she didn’t have to act or lie, since she’d never heard the name and could answer the question honestly. “Ian Yates, you said? I’ve never heard of him. Who the hell is he?”
“What about Michael Holmes?”
Ginny’s reprieve ended. She struggled but managed to maintain the cool attitude she attempted to project and laughed. “Got me again, don’t know him either. Are we through?”
The agents closed their notebooks. Agent Knight replied, “For now, Ms. Spencer. Don’t leave town. We’ll be back with more questions.”
When they left, Ginny sagged against the wall. She shook so hard she doubted she would make it to the blinking ominous light to hit the play button. She slid to the floor clutching her knees. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into but something terrible was about to happen.
* * * *
Agents Poole and Knight didn’t believe Virginia Spencer’s whole story but they didn’t have enough evidence to take her into custody. Ken flipped through his notes as Tim drove. The woman was a good actress but not that good. She had no idea how many times her eyes flickered with fury, especially at the mention of Caitlin. Why? It was a known fact that Gary and Ginny were estranged from their brother and his family. When the picture came into the conversation, Ken thought Ginny would unravel before their eyes. She did her best to recover and implicate Gary. Quick thinking provided a strategy to suit her and keep her ass out of trouble.
Who the hell was Mackenzie Zegar and where did he fit in? Ian Yates’ story corroborated Virginia Spencer’s. The man wasn’t married and didn’t have children. Why book a flight for a wife and granddaughter who didn’t exist?
* * * *
Caitlin continued snapping pictures and taking measurements inside the deserted industrial building. The abandoned structure would work well for the design function and layout Caitlin had in mind. She heard the rumble of a vehicle engine and assumed Laura had arrived.
A shadow loomed at the dilapidated door, the only entrance or exit from the building, barring the semi open roof, fifteen feet above the ground. Caitlin clicked the last picture then squinted into the bright sunlight filtering through the passageway.
“Chris? I’m almost finished up here, and we can go. Was that Laura? I’m sure you’re getting impatient and nervous. I know I’m in for the lecture from hell for dragging you out here. I’ll be done in a minute.” Caitlin’s ramblings were an attempt to calm her raging nerves. She retrieved her paperwork and made one last observation of the building.
“Take your time, Aces, I’m in no hurry.” A hoarse voice said, sounding neither male nor female, but it definitely wasn’t Chris.
Fear rippled through her. Caitlin pivoted in the direction of the voice. She failed to conceal her panic and squeaked, “Who’s there?”
Her eyes darted in desperation, searching the premises for a possible escape route, even though she knew there was none. The one exit and entrance was blocked by this mysterious figure. The open slot in the roof, fifteen feet above her, wouldn’t work without a ladder. Helpless, doomed, trapped. Worse than that, she knew her enemy was about to win. There was no escape yet she continued to hope Chris would arrive. Certainly he had established the best vantage point to take this person down. Why hadn’t he?
“Come here. Don’t be afraid. It’s your mother.”
“Mom?” Caitlin said in a whisper.
“Yes, it’s me. I just flew in today. I caught a terrible cold and have lost my voice.”
Something wasn’t right but then the figure stepped out of the blinding glare of sunlight. At the sight Caitlin couldn’t control her forward momentum. As confusing as it seemed, the face she looked at assuaged her doubts, her mother stood before her in the flesh. Caitlin ran and hugged her.
When she touched a muscled arm, Caitlin recoiled and realized her mistake. Too late, restrained in a choke hold, the barrel of a gun pointed at Caitlin’s temple.
Chapter Thirty-nine
There were times when Bucklin money was useless, green hard cash couldn’t buy everyone off. Mother Nature refused to compromise her principles. A small inconvenient lightning and thunderstorm closed Bridgetown Barbados Airport for twenty minutes. Barry and Lukas didn’t have twenty minutes to spare. The pilot conferred with the two worried men and assured them he would make up the time once the plane was in the air. Radar showed clear weather to the north and a strong tail wind.
Barry, antsy to get answers out of Lukas, refrained from doing so to capitalize on the time he had to attempt phone conversations and e-mail correspondence. He utilized the time to call Chris again, no luck. He checked to see if Constance had been apprehended in Miami, strike two. An e-mail message notified Barry that Mackenzie Zegar hadn’t been located either. Calls to Jack got him nowhere, cell-phone went to voice mail, the house phone rang and rang. The answering machine didn’t pick up. The damn reception on Barry’s phone worked for once and no one answered. Shit. What were they doing?
At last the Bucklin jet cleared for take-off and roared down the small runway. The nose of the plane lifted off the ground. Lukas and Barry were airborne. Despite their animosity at the moment, both men shared a common goal and prayed they could divert the impending disaster on St. Kitts.
Barry sat stiffly, on the right side of the plane, in his plush leather seat, biding his time until the plane leveled off. His strong hands gripped the armrest of the large seat which rivaled any found in the first class section of a commercial flight. He stared straight through the open door of the cock-pit, and could see the plane ascend into a bank of clouds.
His jaw clenched, not attributed to a fear of flying but due to the uneasy feeling he had in the pit of his stomach regarding the upcoming conversation with the man sitting across the aisle. There were too many loopholes in this whole situation. The plane reached cruising altitude and leveled off. Barry tried to orchestrate the order and tone of his questions but when he shifted in his seat and faced Lukas, he fired away. “Start talking.”
Lukas raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll tell you everything with one condition. Let me tell you the pertinent facts first and then you can grill me and pass judgment.”
Barry scowled at the gall of this man, making demands when lives were in danger. To save time, he said nothing and waved his hand for Lukas to get on with it.
Lukas began his confession. “Caitlin is indeed my granddaughter. Nick Holland, her uncle, somehow found out about my son, Jack and tried to blackmail him and use me as bait. Yes, I said it, my son, Jack. I lied to you last night. I did know Jane Spencer.”
Barry leaned forward ready with a slew of questions but before he could speak, Lukas held up his hand to silence him.
“Let me continue my story before you go ballistic. When Jane notified me of what Nick threatened to go public with, I sent him the quarter million he tried to extort from Jack. He swore he’d go away. He even went so far as to change his name to Michael Holmes. This part you know already but I didn’t until many years later. I’d never met Nick Holland face to face until I started my electronics division.
“A very impressive Michael Holmes interviewed for a position. His experience and knowledge were impeccable. As a bonus he worked for the competitor. We discussed off the record information that Michael could bring with him legally. I repeat legally, that would give Bucklin Electronics a head start. A few weeks later the whole damn place burned to the ground, killing ten employees. Only nine were declared legally dead.”
Barry couldn’t let this bizarre tale continue without clarification. He threw up both his hands in protest and demanded Lukas to explain. “Whoa, whoa. What do you mean ten employees were killed but only nine
were declared dead? Where is the tenth?”
Barry cut off his own question. His mouth formed an ‘o’ and the light bulb turned on literally and figuratively. In raising his hand, Barry accidentally hit the overhead cabin light that illuminated his seat.
“Ah, you finally got it,” Lukas said matter-of-factly. “I’m surprised you hadn’t pieced this puzzle together earlier. Mackenzie Zegar died but his identity continued on in the body of Michael/Nick. This bit of information I recently found out from the phone call, I’ll get to that in a bit. They looked enough like each other and it was Michael Holmes who was taken to the hospital with Mackenzie’s ID. Michael bragged that he buried the body in some remote location, never be to found. The new Mackenzie received a settlement of two million dollars from the insurance company for pain and suffering due to the faulty fire alarm system of the building. That wasn’t enough for Michael. He came after me again with his newly found weapon and threatened to implicate me in the fire, said he had evidence that he acted under my orders.
“Once again I paid him off, this time a million, and I hadn’t heard from him in ten years. I thought he finally died or found some other schmuck to blackmail. Last week that hope vanished. He called and pompously informed me of whom he had been impersonating for the past decade. That was the worst call I’ve ever taken in my long, miserable life. He mentioned Caitlin.”
Lukas stopped speaking for a moment. His eyes sparkled and tears threatened to flow. He shook his head as if to ward off the past and the emotions stirring inside of him. He continued his confession. “I never realized Nick could be this evil. There has never been any love lost between him and his sister, but this? The plot he’s concocted is sick. Caitlin has been in the news lately. That must have resurrected the deep seeded resentment he harbors for his family. Hatred festers inside of Nick. The sick bastard must have finally unraveled. He specializes in revenge. He uses everyone and everything, especially when he can get money in the process. Why, oh, why did I let this happen? I should have come forward years ago. I only wanted to protect Jack. Now I’ve shattered my son’s world and his daughter is the target of a madman.” Lukas clutched his chest and sagged back into his seat.