As she punched in the phone number, she was vaguely aware of the din of conversation coming from the office area. But her attention was diverted by the sight of Declan walking away. The man had swagger. Broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and with each step the fabric of his jeans stretched and strained against his muscular thighs. It wasn’t until she heard Kasey’s father’s voice on the other end that she snapped back to reality.
“Hi, this is Chasyn,” she greeted him.
There was a nanosecond of silence. “How are you doing?” he asked.
Grief made his voice sound cold and distant. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at Kasey’s funeral.”
“I understand,” he replied in an even tone. “Do you know what’s happening with the case?” he asked. “The police aren’t telling me much. Only that they have insufficient evidence to take the case to the grand jury at this time. Something about your testimony?”
“I didn’t get as good a look as Kasey,” she admitted. “But I’m doing everything I can to find evidence against Lansing.”
“What can you do that the police can’t?” he asked.
“I’m not sure yet, but the situation has ballooned and this is very personal to me.”
“Not as personal as burying your only child.”
Chasyn fought back tears. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Becker.”
“Thank you,” he said as if by rote. “What are your plans for the apartment?”
She actually hadn’t thought that far ahead but she assumed Mr. Becker was concentrating on things like that to keep from thinking about his deceased daughter. “I’m not sure I want to go back.”
“Understandable. Perhaps the best thing is to break the lease and pay the penalty.”
She thought about the break-in and it sent a shiver down her spine. “That makes sense. I’ll contact the leasing office and get the details.”
“I’ve already done that. The pay-off for breaking the lease is twenty-six hundred dollars provided everything is out by the end of the month.”
That would give her two weeks to pack up. And cost her a hunk of her savings to pay off the landlord. “I didn’t know it would be that expensive.”
“Don’t worry about the money, Chasyn. I’ll send you a check to cover the cost.”
“That’s very generous, but I can’t let you do that.” She checked the time and realized she was nearing the two-minute mark.
“I insist,” he said. “Kasey would have wanted me to.”
Hard to counter the dead daughter argument. “Well, then, thank you.”
“I’ll send a cashier’s check. The landlord mentioned that you haven’t been back to the apartment. Where are you staying right now?”
“With a friend,” she hedged.
“Give me the address.”
She thought for a moment. “Just send it to my job. Keller and Mason,” she said, then gave the street address. “I’m sorry, Mr. Becker, but I need to go now. Thank you again, and I’ll be in touch.”
He started to argue with her, but Chasyn cut him off before the two-minute mark. She felt guilty for being rude to him. He’d been a part of her life for so long and she knew how much he adored Kasey. Her murder must be hitting him hard.
“I so rock!” Chasyn heard Ziggy yell just as she was putting the phone back in her pocket.
Curious, she went to the office and found the whole team staring up at an image on the large monitor. There was a buzz of excitement in the room. Chasyn looked at the face on the screen and instantly noted the similarities. Same hairline. Same squared jaw. Ziggy did rock. She’d found the man who had taken her parents. “Who is he?” she asked.
“Albert Müller,” Declan answered. “Wanted by several countries and Interpol and some Middle Eastern Big-Wig who’s offering a five hundred thousand-dollar bounty on his head.”
“For what?” Chasyn asked.
“He’s a prime suspect in at least a dozen deaths. German national. Former highly decorated member of the Bundeswehr—the German military.” Declan stroked his chin. “He’s been called in for questioning by no less than five different law enforcement groups, but there’s never been enough evidence to tie him definitively to any crime.”
“So how come an international criminal is after me and my family?” Chasyn wondered aloud.
“He’s a pay-to-play kind of guy,” Declan explained. “Someone must be paying big bucks for a pro like Müller.”
Her mind was spinning. None of this made any sense. “How does someone find someone like Müller?” Chasyn wondered aloud. “Last time I checked, killers didn’t advertise in the Yellow Pages.”
“It’s easier than you think,” Gavin responded. “With the right amount of cash, you can buy your way into a job like this.”
“Does Lansing have that kind of money?” she asked.
“His wife does,” Declan said. “Except we can’t find any trace of any major withdrawals out of her accounts.”
“What about credit card statements?” she offered excitedly.
Declan smiled. “Killers don’t take Amex.”
“No,” Chasyn said. “I handled a divorce case a bunch of years ago, and the husband was hiding assets by overpaying his credit cards. He squirreled away a couple hundred thousand dollars that way and no one was the wiser. The amounts just showed as payment credits.”
“On it,” Ziggy said as she stood and went back to her computer station.
Declan gave Chasyn a little nod. “Good call.”
Chasyn smiled. “I told you I’d be useful.”
* * *
Declan’s admiration for the woman grew considerably. He knew she was frantic about her parents, yet she was holding it together well. Hell, she was more than holding it together. That little credit card tip might just lead to the break they needed to nail Lansing and end this nightmare.
Of course, that also would mean an end to his…his…He wasn’t sure what to call his relationship with Chasyn, other than he knew he felt like more than just her protector. He was far too aware of her. The memory of the smell of her hair when he’d taken her in his arms, and the enticing shape of her body where it molded to his had stayed with him hours later. He might have chalked it up to a reasonable explanation. She was a beautiful woman and he was just reacting to her sensuality. Except that he was as impressed with her mind as he was with her body. This was new territory for him. And it was disconcerting, to say the least.
“Guys?” Ziggy called from the computer area.
Declan and Chasyn walked in together with Gavin right on their heels. Up on the screen, Ziggy had several credit card statements tiled on the screen.
“So, starting two months ago, Dr. Lansing was overpaying his credit cards just like Chasyn said.”
“How much,” Declan asked.
“Altogether? Roughly fifty grand. But, he made a two thousand-dollar cash withdrawal the day before the courthouse shooting that killed Kasey.”
“Can you trace it?” Declan asked Ziggy.
She shook her head. “Can’t trace the cash. But he made a second withdrawal of twenty grand two days after the shooting.”
Chasyn reached out and wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. There was a flash of excitement in her eyes. “So, he paid the guys in the white SUV two thousand up front and then twenty thousand after Kasey died. Right?” Some of her guilt was assuaged by the knowledge that she was helping make forward progress. It was the first time since Kasey’s murder that she had felt anything other than responsible. That knowledge shone in her eyes.
“Possibly,” Declan hedged. Something about the withdrawals didn’t add up. “I’m just not sure why he’d pay twenty grand for a job that was only half completed.”
Her hand dropped away and he felt palpable disappointment.
“He did kill the only real witness to Mary’s murder in that parking lot.”
Chasyn appeared lost as to what to do with her hands now that she wasn’t touching him. And Declan, well, he was dist
racted—a first for him—by her body language. By the way she looked and, scariest of all, by her intelligence.
“Right,” Declan said. “Except at the time you and Kasey were shot, neither Lansing nor the police knew you didn’t actually see the murder. As far as Lansing was concerned, you were as much a threat as Kasey.”
Her shoulders slumped slightly and he could tell she was struggling. Made sense; her parents were in jeopardy, her best friend was dead, and she had a top-flight guy on her tail. Declan sucked in and blew out a breath. If only he could find a way to ease the pain in her stunning eyes…
“I guess he wouldn’t have paid the balance on the contract when I didn’t die.”
“However,” Declan added, “there’s always a possibility that the second withdrawal was to hire Müller to finish the job.”
Chasyn perked up. “Can we take the credit card statements to the police and see if they have enough to arrest him for Kasey’s murder?”
“Not enough probable cause,” Gavin interjected. “Plus, we’d be playing our hand. Right now, we want Lansing where we can keep an eye on him.”
Chasyn let out a long breath. “While you watch Lansing and wait for an elusive sample of his DNA, Müller has my parents. On Tuesday he’ll probably try to kill me when I show up at Carlin Park.”
“You aren’t going to Carlin Park,” Declan told her with finality. “There’s no way I’ll let Müller get that close to you.” Even he thought that sounded a little dictatorial. What was it about this woman that made him want to shield her from harm? Yes, that was his job, but this time it felt different. The mere thought that Chasyn could get close to a killer made his stomach cramp.
She turned and caught his gaze. Her expression could only be described as defiant. “There’s no way I’m going to jeopardize my parents’ safety.”
“I’m not going to let him hurt your parents,” Declan responded.
“Really?” she challenged. “What’s the plan?”
It was his turn to blow out a slow breath. “I’m working on it.”
* * *
An hour later, Ziggy informed her that a text had come through on her phone. Gavin had gone to relieve one of the guys staking out Lansing, so only Declan joined them in the computer area. On the screen was a blow-up of a photograph that chilled her to the bone. Her mother and father were strapped to two chairs set in front of a white sheet that looked as if it had been hung as a backdrop. They were secured with zip ties, their mouths covered with duct tape. In her father’s lap was that morning’s newspaper.
Her mother’s eyes were red and swollen, her nose pink above the gray duct tape. Knowing her stoic mother had been reduced to tears tore at Chasyn’s heart. When they found this bastard, she was going to rip his face off.
“Look at the floor,” Ziggy said as she zoomed in.
“Hardwood,” Chasyn said.
“Planking,” Declan corrected. “Like on a boat.”
“Well, that narrows things down,” Chasyn said sarcastically. “You can’t throw a pebble around here without hitting a marina.”
“So we get him to send a video,” Declan suggested. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?” she asked.
“Lake Worth,” he said.
“What’s in Lake Worth?” she asked.
“We need to make contact with Müller again,” he explained. In reality he was dragging this out to give her more time to process the situation. They could call from the side of I-95, but then he wouldn’t have any extra time alone with her.
Chasyn went with him, though she had some misgivings. What if another request for proof of life pissed Müller off? That thought didn’t bode well for her parents.
The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached the Lake Worth pier. It was a long pier, dotted with people. Chasyn could hear the gentle crash of waves hitting the pylons as they walked to the end of the pier, past several fishermen. The wind had kicked up a bit, giving her a chill. She was astonished that the relatively short drive had given her something of a boost. Yes, she was worried sick, but knowing Declan had a plan put her frazzled nerves to rest. For now.
“Okay,” Declan began as he took out her cell. “Thank him for the photograph but tell him it isn’t enough. You want a video of your father speaking as a show of good will, you want your mother released before you’ll agree to meet him.”
“Do you think he’ll go for it?” she asked as she powered up the phone.
“It’s worth a try.”
On the second ring, a man’s voice said, “Hello?”
Just hearing him speak inspired a flood of anger and frustration to surge through her from head to toe. But she knew it was imperative that she follow Declan’s instructions if she had any hope of seeing her parents again. “T-This is Chasyn,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Thank you for the photograph but it isn’t enough.”
“You asked for proof of life.”
“And you sent a photo with no distinguishing date or frame of reference. I want a video of my father proving my parents are alive and unhurt.”
“I never said unhurt,” the male voice taunted.
Chasyn swallowed her emotions. “Provide me with the tape or we have nothing further to discuss.”
There was a prolonged silence, then he uttered the word “Fine.” Chasyn powered down the phone and handed it back to Declan. “Now what?” she asked.
“We wait for the tape. Let’s get some dinner,” he said. “I’m starving and there’s a great seafood place about a mile from here.”
Until he mentioned food, Chasyn hadn’t thought about how long it had been since she’d eaten. She wasn’t sure she could eat with the knot of worry lodged in her throat, but she was willing to go with him just because it would be a welcome distraction.
They walked down to a restaurant with ocean views and were immediately seated in a secluded booth near the back of the restaurant. Declan took a seat that gave him an unobstructed view of the comings and goings of their fellow diners.
Chasyn guessed their pleasant waitress was somewhere in her fifties as she appeared and handed Chasyn a tri-fold, laminated menu. The offerings seemed endless. “What’s good here?” she asked Declan.
“Everything. If you like salmon, you’ll love the grilled filet.”
Chasyn closed the voluminous menu and set it aside just as the waitress returned with two glasses of water garnished with lemon wedges. She took out her pad and pencil and asked, “Are we ready to order?”
Chasyn went with the salmon while Declan opted for the mahi-mahi. The smells coming from the kitchen inspired her dormant appetite. “I’m actually hungry.”
“You should be,” Declan said. “You haven’t been eating much for days now.”
“It’s a little hard to work up an appetite when you have a professional killer on your tail who is holding your parents hostage in exchange for your life.” She took a sip of water. “What do you think the odds are that he’ll release my mother?”
“Seventy-thirty.”
“Seventy percent yes?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. He’s kind of got you over a barrel and there’s not a lot of benefit for him to relinquish a hostage.”
Chasyn tamped down the panic tightening her gut. “I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes?”
“We need to talk to Lansing.”
Declan offered a grim smile. “I don’t think he’s going to agree to a meet and greet.”
“Unless he thinks we have something on him,” Chasyn said.
“Like what?”
“Like whatever Mary might have had on him.”
“Tough bluff to carry out since we don’t know what she had on him.”
“He doesn’t know that. All we have to do is claim we found her storage area. That should get his intention.”
“And the attention of Müller,” Declan warned. “Say we do get him to agree to see us. What’s to say he won’t send Müller instead?”
�
�Didn’t your surveillance team say he went to the same coffee shop every morning?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think tomorrow morning we should ambush him there.”
Declan smiled. “I like the way you think.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The early evening’s setting sun painted the sky a tapestry of gold, pinks, and corals. Chasyn’s mind was on her parents. She tried not to think about what Müller might be doing to them as she hurried to keep pace with Declan. Tried, but failed. So far, the only clue to their whereabouts was boat planking, which in South Florida wasn’t very helpful.
On the drive back to Declan’s place she struggled to keep her composure. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she gave in to the tears burning behind her eyes. She had to stay focused, and she rubbed her arms, her gaze on the taillights of the car in front of them. “Someone in Lansing’s world has to own a 2013 Taurus.”
Declan dropped one hand off the wheel and rested it on the console between them. “So far we haven’t found the link. Ziggy ran down every registration for every car owned by Lansing, his wife, his office manager and even rental agencies. Nothing.”
“But if we can prove Lansing had Kasey killed, then wouldn’t Müller walk away since he wouldn’t be paid for finishing the job?”
“That’s a possibility,” Declan reluctantly agreed. “Depends on the terms of the contract.”
Chasyn shifted in her seat so she was speaking to his profile. “So far all we can prove is that Lansing hid fifty thousand dollars. He’s spent twenty-two of it, which doesn’t leave him much for a final payment. Wouldn’t someone like Müller be more pricey than that for his, um, services?”
“That would be on the low side for someone like Müller,” Declan agreed.
“Maybe we should call the cops, or the FBI or Interpol,” she suggested. “Wouldn’t they launch an intensive manhunt for Müller?”
Declan raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Yes. Which would put your parents in danger. People like Müller cut and run if the job goes south or draws too much unwanted attention. And they don’t leave witnesses behind.”
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