Michael shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But hypothetically speaking, if you were in some kind of trouble, you know you could come to me, right? I’d do everything I could to help you.”
Emotion welled in Graham’s throat. He wanted to tell Michael everything. He needed desperately to talk to someone he trusted. But the more people he brought into this, the greater the risk.
“I know you would,” he said. “And if I were in trouble, you’d be the first one I’d call.”
“I hope you mean that. I don’t know what the hell is going on and it’s obvious that you don’t want to tell me. But be careful, Graham. I’ve seen this sort of thing before when I worked for the D.A. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the feds are trying to nail you with something. Make damn sure you don’t fall into any of their traps.”
Traps? Graham’s mind worked frantically. The agents were the good guys, weren’t they? They were supposed to be on his side. He had to believe that.
“Thanks for the warning, but I’m not the target of their investigation. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“That’s the thing, though,” Michael said slowly. “You don’t always know you’re the target until it’s too late.”
A chill slid up Graham’s spine as Heller’s questions about Kendall came back to him. And now agents were interrogating his family. They wouldn’t do that if Graham wasn’t considered a suspect. But what crime did they think he’d committed? Surely to God they didn’t think he’d kidnapped his own wife.
“Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, then let me recommend an attorney,” Michael said worriedly. “Even if the questions are routine, what would be the harm in bringing someone in who is looking out for your best interests?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need an attorney.”
“With all due respect, I think you do,” Michael said. “You’d better wise up before it’s too late.”
Their eyes locked for the longest moment, and then Graham dropped his gaze, pretending to read over the contracts while he bought himself some time.
Was Michael right? Was the FBI setting a trap for him while they only pretended to help him find Kendall?
Graham thought again of his conversation with Heller. He’d sensed the agent was after something right from the start. The meeting had been more like an interrogation than an interview, and Graham supposed that part of it was routine. In criminal investigations, family members, particularly spouses, were always the first to be scrutinized.
Surely he should have been cleared by now, though. There was nothing in his background that would arouse suspicion.
But for some reason, the FBI still had questions about his relationship with Kendall, and Graham didn’t have a good feeling about the outcome of their investigation. Because if they didn’t believe him, how were they going to help him get his wife back?
He picked up a pen to sign the contracts, then realized how badly his hands were shaking. He glanced up. Michael had seen and now his gaze narrowed. Graham could tell that he was on the verge of saying something else, but he shook his head slightly, warning him off. Michael frowned but kept silent.
Graham scrawled his name in the designated places, then restacked the contracts. Before he handed them back to Michael, he stuck a Post-it note to the top and scribbled a message: Can’t talk here. Meet me downstairs. Coffee shop.
He shoved the documents across the desk and watched as Michael took them. He skimmed the note, glanced up with another question in his eyes, but Graham shook his head again.
Michael very deliberately opened his briefcase and tucked the contracts inside. He closed the latches and stood. “That should do it. I’m sure Terrence will be relieved to have this matter taken care of.”
“Sorry you had to drive all the way up here,” Graham said.
“No problem. It was a nice drive and I always like an excuse to get out of the office.” Michael glanced at his watch. “Look, I hate leaving things on a tense note. I’m sorry if I came on too strong. The lawyer in me gets a little carried away at times.”
“I know, but everything’s fine.”
“If you say so.”
“Tell Terrence if he has any questions, he can call me.”
“Will do.”
A FEW MINUTES later, Graham walked down to the coffee shop on the lower level. Michael had snagged a table in the corner, instinctively leaving the chair facing the door for Graham so that he could watch the traffic in and out of the shop.
“What’s going on?” he said anxiously when Graham sat down across from him. “What’s with the clandestine note?”
Graham tried to study their surroundings casually. He wondered if they were being watched. By Esteban’s men? By the FBI? He was starting to worry about who his real enemy was.
“I need to tell you something,” he finally said. “But you can’t react. You can’t let it show on your face. Anyone glancing over here has to be convinced that we’re not discussing anything more serious than the Astros’ playoff chances.”
“Hey, that is serious,” Michael said with a grin, then when he saw Graham’s face, he sobered. “Go on. I’m listening.” To his credit, his expression remained neutral as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.
As quickly as he could, Graham told him everything, starting with Kendall leaving the reception, her phone call, Esteban’s ultimatum and the FBI’s interest in the time Kendall had spent in Mexico before her accident.
When he was finished, Michael took a long moment to respond. He kept his eyes on his cup, but when he spoke, his voice was hushed with shock. “My God. This is unbelievable.”
“I know it is. I still have a hard time believing it’s not just a bad dream. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and everything will be exactly as it was before Kendall and I went to that reception. If anything happens to her or to anyone in my family…I’m not sure how I’d handle it.”
“You must be going crazy.”
Graham gave a little smile. “That’s putting it mildly. And now after what you said about the FBI questioning Terrence, I’m starting to wonder if I did the right thing calling them in. If they think I’m guilty of something, how hard will they look for Kendall’s kidnappers?”
“Yeah, that worries me, too,” Michael said. “But for what’s it worth, I’d have done the same thing. Your wife goes missing, you call the cops to help find her. She gets kidnapped, you call in the FBI. You want to believe they’re on your side. But I meant what I said earlier. Be careful with these guys.”
“What do you think they’re after?”
“I don’t know. I’ve still got some friends in the Harris County D.A.’s office. I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s heard anything.”
“What should I do in the meantime?”
“The one thing you don’t do is answer any more questions. Keep your mouth shut until we get you a lawyer.”
“Isn’t that going to make me look guilty of something?”
Michael’s gaze lifted. “As of now, we’re more interested in protecting your rights than we are in appearances.”
Graham tried to swallow past the fear in his throat. “You think it’s that serious?”
“Put it this way. Your wife has been kidnapped, your home broken into, your family threatened. And what do the feds focus on? You. So, yeah, I’d say it’s that serious.”
“How the hell does something like this happen to someone like me? I’m not mixed up with criminals. I don’t live that kind of life.”
“Well, now you do,” Michael said grimly. “Someone’s doing a real number on you, buddy. The feds, this guy Esteban.” He shook his head. “No wonder you’re going out of your mind.”
Graham had no idea why Michael’s sympathy meant so much to him, but it felt good to talk to someone he completely trusted. Someone who had no hidden agendas. “I’m glad I told you.”
“So am I. And don’t worry, okay? I’m going to see you through this. As soon as I leave here, I’ll start making some
calls. You’ll have the best defense attorney in the state within the hour.”
“Thanks.”
“In the meantime, tell me again about the interview with Heller.”
Graham went through it a second time. When he finished, he said wearily, “Have you ever heard of this man Kittering?”
“I’ve heard of the son, L.J. I even met him a few years back. He approached Hollister Motors about customizing one of our engines for his race cars. He had a whole fleet of them as I recall.”
“What happened?”
“The deal fell through. I was never clear on all the details, but I think Terrence was under the impression that Kittering was not someone he wanted to do business with.”
“Meaning?”
Michael toyed with his coffee cup. “I guess you may as well know. Kendall started seeing L.J. while he was in Houston. They met through Terrence, of all people, and I know he felt pretty rotten about it. You were in L.A. at the time,” he hurriedly added. “You and Kendall were headed for a divorce so it wasn’t exactly like she betrayed you. But Terrence still felt bad for bringing them together.”
Graham was surprised by the jolt of anger that shot through him. He hadn’t exactly been a Boy Scout during their separation, so he shouldn’t have expected that Kendall would behave any differently. But he didn’t want to think about her being with another man even if the relationship had occurred years ago while they were apart.
“How did it end?”
Michael sighed. “It didn’t. When Kittering went back to Mexico, Kendall followed him.”
Graham’s hands tightened into fists. He turned away so that Michael couldn’t see his eyes. “So that’s how she ended up in Mexico.”
Kendall’s involvement with Kittering explained a lot. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to renew their vows. She’d still had feelings for another man.
“She got a job and an apartment down there,” Michael said. “I don’t think she planned on ever coming back. And then she had the accident.”
“Was she still with Kittering then?”
“I honestly don’t know. I tried to call her a few times after she first got down there, just to make sure everything was okay. She wouldn’t tell me anything, but I sensed that things weren’t working out the way she’d hoped. That’s when I called and told you about her move. I thought someone should know just in case she ran into trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Michael shrugged. “She was alone in a foreign country. Anything could have happened.”
“Did you know that Kittering was murdered?”
Michael’s mouth thinned. “Yeah, I read something about it.”
“Was Kendall involved?”
“What?” Michael looked genuinely shocked. “Why on earth would you think that?”
“The timing, for one thing. She followed him to Mexico and then he turned up dead. And now this. Kidnappings in this country are rare, Michael. Especially kidnappings for ransom. I keep asking myself how Kendall and I ended up as targets.”
“You’ve got money, connections. Maybe it’s as simple as that.”
“What about the FBI? Why are they asking questions about our relationship? Why are they trying to dig up dirt on our marriage when they should be looking for Kendall?”
“The assassination attempt is their top priority right now. They’re probably feeling heat all the way from the White House. They’ll need to find something pretty damn fast in order to cover their own asses.”
The muscle was hammering in Graham’s leg again, and his head felt ready to explode. He needed to sleep, but he suddenly wanted a drink more. “Why the hell would they think I had anything to do with the shooting? That’s crazy.”
“Is it? Think about it, Graham. Your wife used to live in Mexico. Who knows what kind of people she got involved with down there?”
Graham just stared at him. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m just thinking about how the feds may be looking at this. They’ll exploit every connection they can find, no matter how obscure.”
“You’re scaring the hell out of me, Michael.”
“I don’t mean to. It’s entirely possible I’m reading the situation all wrong,” he said, but his demeanor belied his optimism. “At any rate, I’ll feel a whole lot better when we have an attorney on board.”
Chapter Eight
At two o’clock that afternoon, Graham heard from the kidnappers. He’d placed the phone on the desk beside his computer, and for a moment after it rang, he just stared at it. Then he lifted it to his ear.
“Hollister.”
“The first installment is two million dollars. A piece of cake for a guy like you. You have twenty-four hours.”
The voice was electronically altered, but for some reason, Graham didn’t think the caller was Gabriel Esteban. He couldn’t distinguish an accent, and the speech pattern and word choices were much less formal. “That’s not enough time.”
“Twenty-four hours,” the caller reiterated. “No cops, no FBI, no surveillance. You come alone.”
“Where?”
“We’ll be in touch.”
The call ended and Graham slowly lowered the phone to his desk. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified that something was finally happening.
AFTER CONTACTING Heller, Graham spent the rest of the afternoon on the phone with his stockbroker and bank. By five o’clock, he’d arranged to pick up the money the following morning, and now all that was left to do was wait some more.
He stopped by a barbecue place on his way home from work and picked up enough dinner for two. Agent Jones seemed to appreciate the effort, and they ate in silence at the kitchen table while Myron wolfed down his dinner nearby.
Graham thought about asking the agent why the FBI had gone to see his brother, but then he remembered Michael’s warning to say nothing without an attorney. He decided to keep his questions to himself so that he didn’t inadvertently trigger more suspicion.
Afterward, he went outside for a walk. He let Myron out, too, and the cat shot off in the dark. Graham would have liked the company, but the feline obviously had other things on his mind.
Graham strode down to the summerhouse and sat on the steps for a long time, listening to the water rush over the rocks and to the crickets that were beginning to sing from the woods.
Twilight fell and he still didn’t move. He thought about everything Michael had told him that morning. Kendall had fallen for a race-car driver named L. J. Kittering. Graham couldn’t imagine a profession that contrasted more starkly with his. He tried to picture what Kittering might have been like, but the images storming through his head made him ill.
He reminded himself that he and Kendall had been separated at the time. They were headed for a divorce. Graham had seen other people while they were apart. What did it matter that Kendall had, too?
But who he was he kidding? There was a stark difference in the casual dates he’d had and Kendall’s relationship with Kittering. She’d followed him back to Mexico. She’d started a whole new life for herself with another man in a foreign country. There was nothing casual about that.
According to Michael, she hadn’t planned on ever coming back. And then Kittering was murdered and she’d been in a terrible car accident.
Had she still been in love with Kittering when Graham had come to the hospital to see her? Had she been mourning him all through her own painful recovery?
Graham knew it did no good to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t help it tonight. He couldn’t help wondering about a lot of things in Kendall’s life.
But nothing he’d learned changed the way he felt about her. He still loved her. He would still do everything in his power to bring her home safely.
The mosquitoes came out as the twilight deepened, and he finally went back to the house. He tried to watch TV for a while, but it was no use. He couldn’t concentrate on anything now but the impending drop.
What if somethi
ng went wrong? What if Esteban knew he had brought in the FBI? What if he somehow mixed up the directions and went to the wrong location?
A million things could go wrong, and Graham’s family would pay the price if he screwed this up.
He tried to be encouraged by Delacourt’s assurance that the feds knew what they were doing. But it wasn’t so easy to trust them now that Graham knew he had become a person of interest in their investigation.
Two days ago, such a thing would have been unthinkable. But someone had taken control of Graham’s life, and now he was learning very quickly that he had to watch his back.
He lay on top of the bed and stared at the ceiling. The lights were off, but he hadn’t closed the shutters and moonlight flooded in.
He’d had only an hour or so of sleep in the last twenty-four hours, and he had to be fresh and rested for the drop. But he couldn’t shut off his thoughts. He couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs, both past and present.
Rolling over, he stared at Kendall’s picture on the nightstand. Her face was at once familiar and strange, her smile both tentative and alluring. She’d always been a complicated woman, always had her secrets. Maybe that was why Graham had been so fascinated by her. She was different from him. He’d always known what he wanted and had planned his life accordingly. Kendall had lived in the moment.
But the accident had changed that, too. The injuries had not only eroded her strength and vitality, but her confidence and zest. She’d seemed so unsure of herself when she first came home from the hospital, and that wasn’t like the woman he’d married.
Graham thought back to the night he’d first brought her to this house. She’d come out of the bathroom smelling of the jasmine that grew in the garden, her skin warm and silky-smooth from her bath.
She’d slipped into bed, drawing the covers up to her chin. When he reached for her, she pulled away, closing her eyes as she said on a ragged whisper, “How can you want me? I’m nothing but skin and bones, and I have all these scars.”
She had lost a lot of weight after the accident. She was much too thin and her eyes seemed filled with a wariness Graham hadn’t remembered from before. But none of that mattered to him.
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