Cut & Run

by Traci Hohenstein

  The tax attorney was located downtown near the French Quarter. I had an hour to kill before my next appointment, so I went to one of my favorite coffee joints to get a pick-me-up and a quick bite to eat. It was a beautiful day to walk, the air was crisp and not too hot, and the sky was a brilliant blue, with not a cloud in sight. I proceeded down Royal Street looking for the Flora Gallery and Coffee Shop.

  Flora was unlike any other coffee place in town. It was what Erin would call hippie-fied. The inside was filled with weathered wood and stained glass. Local art filled the walls, including a couple of pieces from my wife. Erin had two watercolors on display. My favorite was a scene from our family vacation spot in Grayton Beach, Florida: it showed two small children playing on the beach with a weathered 1950s cottage in the background. The other piece featured a centuries-old graveyard in the heart of New Orleans.

  I loved coming to eat here, and my mouth was watering thinking about the Ethiopian coffee I was going to order along with a cheese omelet and home fries.

  Abruptly, he reached the end of the memory. Matt opened his eyes for a moment, taking in Michelle and the surrounding hotel room. This is where his memory of the fateful day usually ended. But this time, Matt was determined to push through. He closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and did what Michelle had suggested. Matt imagined the feel of the sun beating down on his face, the smell of coffee brewing, and seeing…seeing what? A flicker of an image…just like watching a home movie on an old reel…distorted at first and then all of a sudden becoming clear and in focus.

  Just as I was about to cross the street, I saw Erin sitting outside Flora at one of the patio tables. Something made me hesitate. I pulled back from the crowd crossing the street and watched from under the overhang of an awning outside a furniture store. Erin wasn’t alone. Another man joined her at the table, handing her a Styrofoam cup. No doubt the cup was filled with her favorite, chamomile tea. She laughed at something he said. I didn’t recognize the man, but something in her mannerisms made me think that she knew him well. Erin wasn’t a stranger to Flora. The café showcased her art, she knew the owner, and she hung out there often. But thinking about what she’d told me earlier that morning made me hesitate at the crosswalk. She’d said she had an appointment at the school with the PTA president about some volunteer work and then was going to an art supply store in Metairie to pick up supplies that were specially ordered for her. So what was she doing at Flora with another man who I didn’t know? I needed to think about what to do. Pretty soon she could look up and see me cowering in the shade of the furniture store. I didn’t want to look like a jealous husband who was watching every move she made. I trusted Erin. I struggled with the decision: Should I just walk up to her and say hello? Who’s your friend? Put it on her to explain? Or I could just walk away. Go to another place to drink coffee and ponder this situation. Maybe I could bring it up later that night and see what she might say about her day. Just as I decided to go with the latter option, the man reached over and kissed my wife on the lips in a way that showed they were far more than friends.

  Matt’s eyes sprang open with a jolt as he realized the significance of what he’d just remembered. But he didn’t feel ready to share it. As he turned back to Michelle’s expectant face, he put on a confused expression. He’d play the helpless victim.

  “I guess it didn’t work,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “From what I can remember, it was just another normal day.”

  If Michelle didn’t believe him, she didn’t show it. She just nodded and wrote something on her little notepad.

  Matt felt a sudden longing to confide in Michelle and Rachel. To tell them he’d just remembered seeing another man kiss his wife. That Erin had looked happy and relaxed while drinking tea next to a man whose face he didn’t recognize. That now he had full recall of that horrible day when he’d discovered her affair.

  Matt felt rooted to the floor as more memories of that day came flooding back. He couldn’t stop them. He remembered how he’d wished he’d confronted her right afterward. But he hadn’t been able to. While lying in bed with Erin that night, he’d asked how her day was. She’d shrugged and mentioned that her meeting went well. Of course, she hadn’t mentioned her little stop by Flora or the man she met for tea. Now he had to wonder: Was the man related to her disappearance? Or, worse, her murder? Could he trust Rachel to help him find out?

  “Matt? Are you okay?” Michelle asked. Apparently, she had been talking and he hadn’t heard a word of what she had said.

  Matt shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve got a big headache coming on.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll wrap this up quickly,” Michelle said, then asked him a few more questions about his relationship with his wife and kids.

  Matt noticed that Rachel looked a little disappointed that Michelle hadn’t helped him make a breakthrough. If only she knew. Before Michelle left, she gave Matt a list of exercises to help him with his brain function. Puzzles, word associations, and games to play. Michelle also encouraged him to follow up with his neurologist and to keep up with his physical therapy. Matt thanked her for her time and felt relief when she finally left.

  “I’m still holding out hope that you’ll remember soon,” Rachel said, when Michelle closed the door.

  “Me too,” said Matt. “Look, I know you are skeptical about all this, but I want you to know that I’m trying as hard as I can. I want to find my kids just as much as anyone else does.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I’m not questioning your amnesia. I just want to do whatever I can to help.”

  Matt wondered if she would still feel that way if she knew that he was holding out on her. He just needed a bit of time to think it through before revealing the truth. If he could just remember who the person was that hit him over the head. He blanked on that part each time. When he got home later, he was going to try the tactic Michelle had taught him one more time. Maybe it would work again.

  “What happened with the FBI yesterday? You said you wanted to talk to me about it,” Rachel said. Matt watched as she crossed one long leg over the other and stared at him with her inquisitive green eyes.

  “Agent Krapek wanted to go over all the business we’ve done in the last few months. I guess they are trying to connect this thing with a vengeful client.”

  “No luck then?”

  “A man’s fingerprints were found in my Durango. It belonged to a former client.” Matt scrubbed his face with his hands, feeling two days of stubble.

  “Do you remember this client?”

  “We bonded him over ten years ago. I don’t remember many clients unless they are repeat offenders.”

  “So there is no logical reason why this guy would have his prints on your truck?”

  “Right.”

  Rachel sighed. “What does Krapek think?”

  “I think she thinks that I conspired with this guy to have my wife killed. Which is completely ridiculous.”

  “Could you have had any interaction with this guy within the last three months?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “What else has Krapek said?”

  “She doesn’t understand how I ended up in Baton Rouge while Erin was found over three hours away in Houma. How did I survive while Erin is dead? And where are the kids?”

  Rachel blew out a breath of air. “It all does sound like something out of a mystery novel.”

  Matt looked her directly in the eyes. “Do you think I killed my wife?”

  “No, I don’t,” she said without hesitation.

  “Thank you.” Matt needed someone on his side. He desperately needed someone to believe in him, which made it all the more difficult to keep the memory of Erin’s affair from Rachel. If he told Rachel about the affair, would she still help him? He had an idea he wanted to try first.

  Rachel got off the couch and walked Matt to the door. “Don’t give up. We’ll keep digging.”

  After h
e left Rachel’s hotel, Matt scrolled through the contact list on his cell phone. He found the number he needed and pressed send. After a few rings, the person picked up.

  “I need your help.”

  CHAPTER 24

  After calling Michelle and thanking her for her time and help with the O’Malley case, Rachel packed her overnight bag. She told Red about Matt’s meeting with the FBI and the fingerprints found on the truck. They both agreed it would be a good idea to head over to Houma for the day to take a look around the site where Erin’s arm was found. After clearing it with Agent Krapek, Rachel assembled her core team. Rankin Smartz was her lead guy on search-and-rescue missions. He always brought along his black Lab, Max, who was a trained search-and-rescue dog. Max was invaluable to helping them find clues. Peter Moore was her equipment specialist. He had all kinds of gadgets and gizmos, as Rachel called them, that were used during searches. His handheld thermal imager was used the most during their missions. It helped the rescuers search large areas in a short amount of time.

  “Time to go, Red,” said Rachel. She’d arranged for Rankin and Peter to drive separately to Houma and meet them at the site. Rachel hopped behind the wheel and headed out to their destination.

  “It should take us about an hour and a half to get there,” Red said, checking the GPS system.

  Rachel was just settling into the drive when her company cell phone rang.

  “Rachel. Long time no hear. Still looking for Mallory?”

  Rachel almost dropped the phone at the mention of Mallory’s name. She pulled over to the side of the road, her hands shaking. Red noticed her distress and motioned for her to put the phone on speaker.

  The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. There was a lot of static on the line, and putting the call on speaker made it worse. “Who is this?”

  “Scotty Jensen.”

  Rachel fumbled the phone again and caught it before it hit the floorboard.

  “Are you still there, Rachel?” Now Scotty’s voice came through loud and clear.

  She had to take a second to pull it together. After all this time of trying to track down Scotty Jensen, now she had him on the phone. She didn’t want to blow it without finding where Mallory was.

  “I’m here,” she answered.

  “How was your trip to Mexico? I heard you got a little R and R in. Paddleboarding?”

  Rachel’s face turned red. Her nervousness disappeared quickly, replaced by anger. She looked over at Red, who had stepped out of the vehicle and was now on his cell phone. No doubt calling the FBI to try and get a trace on her phone, she thought. She would have to keep Scotty on the line as long as possible.

  “Where’s Mallory?” she asked.

  A brief silence on the other end. Then his answer: “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit! Your name was all over the place on those seized computers.”

  “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with it.” Scotty paused for a moment. “I might know where she is, though. For the right price, I can find out.”

  Rachel’s hand gripped the phone so hard she felt it was going to break into pieces.

  “Then stop playing games and tell me. Where is she?”

  “I’ve got to go, but we’ll stay in touch.” And the connection was gone.

  Rachel put the phone down, resisting the urge to throw it. “Son of a bitch!”’

  Red got back in the car and handed her his cell phone. “The FBI wants to talk to you. They weren’t in place to pull a trace.”

  Rachel went over the details of the phone call. Agent Hammond Lewis, who’d worked with Rachel in Mexico, listened to her frustrations.

  After a few minutes, Rachel hung up.

  “What did he say?” Red looked concerned.

  “Hammond said they’d put a tap on my phone and be ready if Scotty calls again. Of course, he’ll probably find another way to contact me. That’s if he gets in touch at all.”

  Rachel got the car back on the road and headed toward Houma.

  “I’m sure he will,” said Red. “I think he likes the attention. The question is, does he really know where Mallory is?”

  “His name was all over the computer the FBI confiscated. E-mails back and forth between him and the Amsels.”

  “Nothing in those e-mails mentioned Mallory, though,” Red said. “Just her photos were on that computer—along with photos of tons of other kids. And I hate to point out the obvious, but Scotty could still be furious with you for helping Janine get her son back. He might just be pulling your strings.”

  “I’ve thought about that, but it’s a little suspicious that he got involved with a kidnapping ring after he tried to take back his own son.”

  “Maybe he was always involved in kidnapping. Rick told you about all the employment problems he had with Scotty. Always late to work. Sometimes not showing up at all. Seeming to pull extra cash from thin air. Maybe it was after Rick fired him that Scotty started cultivating a vendetta against your family.”

  “I’ve been all over Scotty. Tracking down his whereabouts the last days of his employment at the dealership and around the time Mallory was kidnapped. I’ve come up empty-handed each time. There’s nothing to tie her disappearance to him.”

  “We just have to look harder.” Red patted Rachel on the arm. “We’ll get him. One way or another.”

  A sign announcing their arrival into Houma greeted them. A low rolling fog seemed to greet them at the same time. After ten minutes of following the directions Krapek gave them, Rachel gasped as she noticed a sign that read McDaniel’s Fish Camp. Madame Verdene had mentioned a fish camp when they’d first met. She’d said that was where Erin could be found.

  CHAPTER 25

  Rachel held up her hand, shielding her eyes against the harsh midday sun that periodically pushed its way through the fog. An unpleasant briny smell floated through the muggy air, and mosquitoes made a landing strip of her arms. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to wear long pants and sturdy boots. She lifted the yellow crime scene tape that was hanging between large cypress trees. Peter and Rankin, who’d met her at the scene, followed her and ducked under the tape, as did Red.

  “Hey, Agent Krapek,” said Rachel, spotting the woman’s shiny blond hair. “I didn’t think we’d see you this morning. Anything new?”

  Krapek looked up from the notepad she held in her hand. “Not yet. Our guys have been out here the last two days. We’re just wrapping it up.”

  Rachel knew that the local sheriff’s office plus the FBI’s crime scene investigators had been through the swamp in recent days. If anything was there to be found, it probably would have been found by now. But nonetheless, Rachel was determined to take a look for herself, for the sake of the O’Malley kids.

  “Can you show us where the arm was found?” Rachel asked.

  Agent Krapek led the Florida Omni Search team over to the edge of the swamp where the local fisherman had pulled up his line. “Right over there.”

  Rachel had Peter work his magic around the site with his thermal imager, while Rankin walked around the perimeter with Max in tow. Rachel was able to secure some clothing that the kids and Erin had recently worn. She watched as Rankin followed Max around the dirt trail that wound its way along the bayou. Max would sniff the ground, pause, continue walking along the trail, and sniff again. Red went to talk to the crime scene techs, who were loading up their equipment.

  After two hours of going over an expended area, Rachel called it quits with her team. “I’m going to head over to the bait store and get some cold drinks. I’ll meet you guys back here in a few,” she called out to her team.

  “Want me to drive you over? That’s a bit of a walk,” Red offered.

  “It’s okay. I need to clear my head.” Rachel used a purple bandanna to wipe the sweat from her brow and headed down the road toward McDaniel’s Fish Camp.

  It was a ten-minute walk, and Rachel was grateful for the silence. She walked into the two-story worn clapboard store.


  “What can I get ya?” an old man called out from behind the counter.

  “Just looking for something cold to drink.”

  He pointed to the back of the store. “Soft drinks to the right, beer and wine on the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rachel felt his eyes on her as she made her way down the aisle. Dust covered most of the merchandise. Grimy boxes of cereal, bread, Pop-Tarts, and cookies filled the rows of shelving. At the end, a large walk-in cooler held water and soft drinks. Rachel grabbed two bottles of water, a soda for Rankin, and an energy drink for herself. On the way through the snack aisle, she impulsively added a large bag of salted cashews that seemed slightly less dirty than the rest of the merchandise. Juggling her purchases, she laid them down on the counter. The old man started ringing them up without even looking at her.

  “That all?” he asked, bagging the items.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “You looking for that missing family?” he asked, startling her with the question.

  “I am. Did you know them?”

  The old man shifted a wad of chewing tobacco around in his mouth. “Me? Naw. I just read about it in the news. I haven’t seen you around the last week, though. Most of the sheriff and FBI folks have been in, but you, I haven’t seen yet.”

  “I’m with Florida Omni Search. We assist law enforcement agencies in locating missing people,” Rachel said. She dug out a business card and handed it over to him. “I’m Rachel Scott.”

  He looked at the card and then stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “I know the guy that found the arm,” he said as a matter of fact.

  Rachel studied his worn, leathery face. “Really?”

  “Yup. He’s my son.”

  “So that’s an area where he normally hunts?”

  “Yup. He pulled up the line to check for gators and pulled up a woman’s arm instead. Ran down to the store screaming like a little girl. After he calmed down, we called the sheriff.”

  “I suppose the sheriff’s department has talked to you and your son?”