by Sandra Brown
But Doral had. He’d told Stan, “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Coburn shot my brother in cold blood. I don’t care if he’s a felon, a feeb, or the prince of darkness, I’m gonna kill him.”
Stan understood the sentiment. Regardless of who or what Coburn was, he’d made an enemy of Stan when he’d cast suspicion on Eddie. And now Honor’s reputation was being compromised. If Coburn had taken Honor and Emily as insurance for a safe getaway, why hadn’t he abandoned them by now? If his reason for taking them had been ransom, why hadn’t he demanded it?
And if Honor was a hostage, why hadn’t she left them a trail they could follow? She was a clever girl. She must realize that dozens of law enforcement personnel and volunteers were scouring the countryside in search of her and Emily. Surely she could have figured out a way to leave subtle signposts.
If she had wanted to. That’s what gnawed at Stan. What kind of sway did this man Coburn hold over her?
Doral had remarked on the close quarters of the cabin below, and then had looked at Stan, his eyebrows raised. And now Stan could tell that Crawford’s thoughts were moving along that same track.
Stan bluffed. Taking an aggressive stance, he said to Crawford, “I suggest you stop wasting time and begin tracking where Coburn took my family from here.”
“I’ll get on that myself,” Doral said and started to go.
Deputy Crawford put out a stiff arm to stop him. “Don’t you have a funeral to plan?”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that I understand why you’d want to hunt down your brother’s killer and get revenge. But this is a police matter. Nobody invited you to participate. And if I find out who’s feeding you information from inside the P.D., or from inside the sheriff’s office, I’m going to nail his ass to a fencepost.”
Doral moved Crawford’s arm aside. Smirking, he said, “I’d pay to see that,” then left the boat.
Crawford ordered two of the officers to search the craft for clues, starting with the cabin. They clumped down the steps. He sent the rest out to search the surrounding area for footprints, tire tracks, anything.
When he and Stan were alone, Crawford said, “I couldn’t help but notice the name of the boat, Mr. Gillette. Honor.”
“It belonged to her father.”
“Past tense?”
“He died several years ago.”
“She owns it now?”
“I suppose.” Honor hadn’t mentioned her father or his boat since his demise. It had never crossed Stan’s mind to ask what had become of the trawler. It was hardly a coveted legacy.
Crawford said, “You might have mentioned the boat yesterday.”
“I didn’t think of it. In any case, I wouldn’t have known where it was moored.”
“You didn’t keep track?” he asked, sounding surprised. Or maybe skeptical.
“No. I didn’t like her father. He was an aging, dope-smoking hippie who called himself a shrimper but was actually a ne’er-do-well who never had two nickels to rub together. He wore beads and sandals, for godsake. Look around,” he said, raising his arms. “He lived on this boat. The condition of it speaks to the kind of person he was.”
“And yet your daughter-in-law came here to hide.”
Stan actually took a threatening step toward the deputy. “I resent the implication that Honor is hiding from me.”
Crawford wasn’t intimidated. He didn’t back down. “You’ve heard the rumor about Coburn being a fed.”
He stated it as fact. Stan said nothing.
Crawford pulled a knowing frown. “Come on, Mr. Gillette. You’ve heard the rumor. What do you think about it?”
Stan wasn’t going to confirm or deny anything to this man in whom he had little confidence. “All that concerns me is the safe return of my daughter-in-law and grandchild. I’m going to leave you now and try to find them myself.”
Crawford sidestepped to block Stan’s path. “Couple of things first.” He paused for a beat, then said, “Mrs. Gillette obviously had access to her cell phone. So why didn’t she call 911? Or you? If she wanted to be found, wouldn’t she have done that instead of letting her little girl play games on her phone?”
Stan schooled his expression not to change. “You said a couple of things.”
“You might want to reconsider who you ally yourself with.”
“Why?”
“I received an initial ballistics report. The bullet that killed Fred Hawkins didn’t match any of the ones fired during the warehouse mass murder.”
Stan was quick with an explanation. “Coburn would have dumped the guns he used at the warehouse. They’re probably at the bottom of a bayou. He used another to shoot Fred.”
“Or,” the deputy said, drawing out the qualifier, “he wasn’t the warehouse shooter.”
Chapter 29
She’s a babe.”
It was the first time either Coburn or Honor had spoken in five minutes. Even Emily sat still and untalkative in Honor’s lap, having stopped the game of her own invention with Elmo and lapsed into the same brooding silence.
Coburn looked at Honor. “Come again?”
“Tori will knock your eyes out. She’s a babe.”
“What Tori is,” he said tightly, “is not here.”
“She will be.”
“We’ve been waiting for over an hour.”
“She’s a busy lady.”
“At six o’clock in the morning?”
“Her fitness center opens early.” Although she knew that Tori didn’t personally open the club each morning, she was trying to reassure Coburn, and possibly herself, that Tori would show up. “Eventually someone will check the business line for voice mail messages. If you had called her cell phone—”
“We’ve been through that.”
They had. He’d rejected calling Tori’s personal phone for the same reason he didn’t want Honor placing the call herself. “Anything that goes down will be on my head, not yours,” he’d said.
“Tori and I could be accused of aiding and abetting.”
“You could say I used your kid to coerce you.”
“I could swear to that under oath.”
“There you go.”
Now, as they sat waiting for a sign from Tori, Honor said, “As soon as she gets the message, she’ll come. We just need to be patient.”
But he looked like a man whose patience had run out an hour ago when they had arrived at the designated place. He looked around now and, not for the first time, expelled his breath while mouthing words that Emily shouldn’t overhear. “We’re like sitting ducks. Right out in the open.”
“Well, what did you expect of a secret meeting place?”
“I expected it to have walls,” he fired back.
“It’s safe. No one knows about it except Tori and me.”
“Maybe she forgot that silly code.”
“She didn’t forget.”
“What’s it mean, anyway?”
“It means Ken’s a dork.”
He muttered another vulgarity.
Okay, so the phrase was silly, considering their ages now. But when she and Tori had first sworn an oath on it, they’d been giggling girls. Then they’d continued to use it into their teens to communicate whenever one needed to see the other immediately. It meant, “Drop everything, come now, this is an emergency.”
Of course when they were in high school an emergency had amounted to an adolescent trauma like heartache over a boyfriend, a hateful teacher, a failing grade, and, in Tori’s case, a missed menstrual period. Today’s emergency was for real. “Why here?” he asked.
“Here” was an ancient live oak tree that had roots bigger around than Honor, snaking along the ground in every direction from its enormous trunk. It had withstood centuries of hurricanes, blights, land developers, and other hazards. Imposing and magnificent, it almost appeared artificial, like something a Hollywood set designer had constructed and plunked into the clearing.
“Meeting
out here in the countryside added to the thrill of sneaking out, I suppose. We discovered this place on the day I got my driver’s license. We were exploring because we could. We came across the tree out here in the middle of nowhere and claimed it as our own.
“From then on, we met here to talk about things that were too sacred even to share over the telephone.” She could tell he wasn’t quite getting it. “Teenage girls can be terribly dramatic, Coburn. It’s hormonal.”
He made a nonverbal sound that she couldn’t interpret, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Threading her fingers through Emily’s hair, she said wistfully, “I suppose one day Emily will be sneaking out to meet—”
She broke off when Coburn sat up, suddenly alert. “What kind of car does she drive?”
“A Corvette.”
“Then that’s not her.” He reached for the pistol at his waistband.
“Wait! That’s not her car, but that’s Tori. And she’s alone.”
The small, unfamiliar red-and-white car bumped across the creaky wooden bridge and then followed the rutted path toward the tree, stopping twenty yards short of it. Honor opened the passenger door so Tori could see her. Emily scrambled out, jumped to the ground, and broke into a run, shouting, “Aunt Tori!”
Tori alighted from the Mini Cooper and was waiting to catch Emily and swing her up into her arms. “You’re getting so big! I won’t be able to do this much longer.”
“Guess what,” Emily said, wiggling free of Tori’s hug.
“What?”
“Coburn said if I would just be quiet and let him think, then he would get me an ice cream. Only not now. Later. And guess what else. We slept on a boat that used to be where my grandpa lived. Not Grandpa Stan, my other grandpa. The beds were funny and didn’t smell nice, but it was okay because we’re on a ’venture. I woke Coburn up, and when I did, he said a bad word. But Mommy told me that sometimes grown-ups say words like that when they’re very upset. But Coburn isn’t mad at me, just at the sidjeeashun.”
When Emily wound down, Tori said, “My goodness. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
Over Emily’s shoulder, she was looking at Honor and telegraphing a hundred unspoken questions. She kissed Emily’s cheek, then set her down. “Let me talk to your mommy for a minute.”
She extended her open arms to Honor, and the two of them embraced. For several moments they just held each other tightly. Finally, Tori released her and sniffed back tears. “I could kill you for causing me such a fright. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I knew you would be, but there was no help for it.”
“The news stories led me to fear… Well, I’m just awfully glad to see that you and Emily are still in one piece. Did he…? Are you…? God, I’m so relieved,” Tori said emotionally. “You look like something the cat drug in, but you seem fine.”
“We are. Basically. I’m sorry you were so afraid for us. He wouldn’t let me call you until this morning. And even then he wouldn’t let me call you directly. I wasn’t sure you’d get the message. But he—”
“ ‘He’ being him?” Tori was watching Coburn as he came toward them. When her gaze moved back to Honor, her perfectly waxed eyebrows were raised. Speaking in an undertone, she said, “Kidnapper? I should be so lucky.”
Ignoring the remark, Honor made the introductions. “Tori Shirah. Lee Coburn.”
Tori gave him the inviting smile that men couldn’t resist. “Charmed.”
He didn’t acknowledge either the greeting or the smile. Instead he was looking toward the far side of the bridge that Tori had crossed in order to reach them. “Is your cell phone on?”
She was taken aback by the question and the abrupt manner in which he’d asked it, but answered immediately, “Yes.”
“Get it.” She looked at Honor, and when Honor nodded, she dropped her coquetry, retrieved her cell phone from her handbag in the car, and handed it to him.
Coburn asked, “Were you followed?”
“No.” Then, “Hey!” when he took the battery out of her phone.
“You’re sure?”
“I made sure.” She told them about the panel truck she’d seen parked on her street that morning. “I didn’t like the looks of it, so I went out the back way and borrowed the Mini from my neighbors. No one followed me.”
“What made you suspicious of the panel truck?” he asked.
“I thought someone might be watching the house. Doral Hawkins came to see me yesterday.” She went on to relate what had happened. “He’s more than a little pissed that you shot his brother. At least it’s said that you shot and killed Fred.”
To her implied question, Coburn merely nodded.
She eyed him speculatively, but when no explanation was forthcoming, she continued. “Doral told me that if I heard from Honor, I had better notify him first, or else.”
“He threatened you?” Honor asked.
Tori shrugged. “Let’s just say that he made himself understood. But screw him. Stan, too.”
“When did you talk to Stan?”
She recounted their conversation. “It vexes me to give him any credit at all, but I must admit that he was less obnoxious than usual. I guess fear has taken the shine off his brass.”
“What’s he afraid of?” Coburn asked.
Tori sputtered a laugh. “You left a trail of dead bodies, then you disappeared, taking Honor and Emily with you. Stan has a right to be more than a little concerned, don’t you think?”
“Coburn didn’t murder those men in the warehouse,” Honor said. “And he didn’t take Emily and me by force.”
Tori shifted her gaze from one to the other and said drolly, “I sorta gathered that.” Then, placing her hands on her hips and glancing down at her disassembled phone, she asked, “So, what gives?”
“The fact is that he’s—”
“No.” He put his hand on Honor’s arm to stop her from revealing his identity. “The only thing she needs to know is that you and Emily must stay underground until all this shakes out.”
“She deserves an explanation,” Honor argued.
“You said she would help with no questions asked.”
“I know that’s what I said. But it’s unfair to let her go on thinking that you—”
“I don’t give a damn what she thinks.”
“Well, I do. She thinks you’re a killer.”
“I am.”
“Yes, but—”
“Excuse me.” Tori held her raised hand palm out to stop Honor from continuing, but it was Coburn she addressed. “Keep your secrets. I’ve already volunteered my services.” Then she said to Honor, “Emily isn’t afraid of him, and kids are supposed to be good gauges of someone’s character. Like dogs.”
“Emily is four. She’s infatuated because he’s a novelty.”
“Yeah, well, I trust her instincts. Possibly even more than I do yours. In any case, you summoned me, and I’m here. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Get them away from Tambour,” Coburn said before Honor could speak. “Right now. Don’t stop for anything, don’t return home, don’t tell anybody that you’re going. Can you do that?”
“Of course. Where do you have in mind?”
“I don’t.” He looked at Honor, who shook her head.
“My dad’s shrimp boat was my only ace.”
Tori said, “I own a house on the far side of Lake Pontchartrain. Across the bridge. Would that do?”
“Who knows about it?” Coburn asked.
“Husband number two. I got it from him in the divorce settlement. The house in exchange for me keeping quiet about his… Never mind. It turned ugly. Anyway, the only reason I wanted the house was to spite the jerk. I don’t use it on a regular basis, I don’t even like it that much. It’s been months since I was there.”
Honor was listening to them, but she was watching Emily, who was still wearing the clothes in which Honor had hastily dressed her yesterday morning before fleeing their house. Her hair was unbrushed. There
was a patch of dirt on her knee and a tear in the armhole of her top. Meals had been irregular and not very tasty. She’d slept in an uncomfortable, smelly bunk.
Yet she seemed perfectly content and carefree, heartbreakingly innocent of the seriousness of their situation. She’d found a stick and was humming happily as she used the tip of it to etch patterns in the mud.
“She’ll need some things,” Honor remarked.
“We’ll get whatever she needs.” Tori gave Honor’s arm a reassuring pat. “No one is looking for me. I’ll take care of everything.” To Coburn, she added, “But I’ll wait until we’re almost there before I stop to shop.”
“As of now, you can’t use credit cards. Do you have plenty of cash?”
“I have some,” Honor reminded him.
“Money is one thing we don’t have to worry about,” Tori said. “I can get what I need. All I have to do is ask.”
“Ask who?” Coburn wanted to know.
“My current beau.”
“No. Nobody can know where you are.”
“He wouldn’t tell.”
“Yeah, he would. If the right people got to him, he’d tell.”
He said it with such conviction that even Tori was daunted by what he implied. “We’ll pool our resources and make do.”
He appeared satisfied with that, but stressed that Honor and Emily must get into hiding before being spotted.
“Gotcha,” Tori said. “No one would know to look for me in this car.” Then her expression clouded. “The only person I worry about is Stan. If he tries to contact me again, and I don’t respond, he’ll smell a rat. I would be the logical person that Honor would come to for help.”
“He may figure out that she’s with you, but he can’t know where,” Coburn said.
Tori turned to Honor. “That’s okay with you? There’s no love lost between him and me, but the man is beside himself with worry over you and Em.”
“I know it seems cruel to keep him in the dark.” Honor glanced over at Coburn, but saw no softening of his resolve. “But that’s how it’s got to be. For a little while longer at least.”