by L. T. Ryan
“I might be there with you,” I said. “Way too much going on here to not be related somehow.”
Braxton turned and started walking. He gestured for us to follow. “Let me walk you guys out.”
“Gonna release him tonight?” Bridget asked.
“I’ll work on him for a little while longer, see if I can get him to crack, or at least figure out the last time he’ll admit to seeing Delgado, and find out what he knows about Liliana Marin.”
“I want to talk to Lavelle again,” Bridget said. “Tomorrow.”
“Should be okay,” Braxton said. “Don’t give away anything on Liliana, though. He’s a suspect.”
“Agreed,” she said. “I’ll check with you for updates before we knock on his door and tailor the discussion from there.”
“Tanner, you gonna tag along with her?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Wanna see his reaction to us showing up again.”
“All right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. “Take this, Tanner. Text or call if you think of anything, even if you believe it’s a stupid idea, hit me up.”
“I’ll be blowing your phone up,” I said. “My head’s full of stupid ideas.”
He left us at the end of the hallway leading to the parking lot. Bridget excused herself to freshen up. I headed outside. The wind made the door feel as though it weighed three hundred pounds. I leaned into it and got it open enough to squeeze through. The snow streaked past. The flakes that hit me felt like small ice pellets. I couldn’t shield my face fast enough.
Bridget spilled into the parking lot a few minutes later. We braved the elements together and made the twenty steps it took to get to her sedan. Once inside, the world went on a sort of muffled mute. The wind rocked the car, an occasional howl whistling through. The glass was covered in ice and snow. Our exhales created plumes of steam that hung in the air. I thought it might form into clouds.
The engine resisted the request to fire up the first few turns of the key, but eventually, it gave in and roared to life. Cold air poured from the vents, warming ever so slightly after a minute. The wipers had removed most of the snow. Enough for Bridget to feel comfortable beginning the trek home.
It was going on four a.m. and neither of us had much to say. She switched the radio station to classical and turned the volume down to a hum. Fine by me. I needed a moment for my thoughts to swirl and sort themselves out, and song lyrics weren’t helping.
We were twenty minutes into the drive when she spoke up. “Guess tonight didn’t go as planned.”
I couldn’t help but let a weak laugh escape. “You could say that.”
“Probably gonna be a busy week.”
“Could say that, too.”
“Thanks for sticking with me today, Mitch. I know you got a lot on your mind, a lot you could be doing here. I’m gonna stick with you when it’s time. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Bridge, I do.”
“We’ll need to be up and running by eight. You gonna be good for that?”
“Got extra-strength, super-test, nuclear coffee?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She looked over and smiled. “I’ll need it too.”
We made it to her house and headed upstairs. The two of us awkwardly stood at the top of the steps for a few moments too long before moving to our rooms on opposite ends of the hallway.
14
The frigid morning air laced with the lingering damp of the storm filled his lungs. He held it as long as he could before exhaling. He walked through his own cloud of steam on his way to visit the newest batch of trusted residents. A mother and son who’d shown up a while back, having crossed the country, seeking him out.
The buildings on the southern end of the compound housed those who had passed the initiation. Those in that phase only knew of him as a myth, or a legend. Someone they’d seen on YouTube or some other video service in an interview, or perhaps one of his sermons.
No one could simply show up here. They weren’t invited, either. They had to put in the investigative work to make it happen. The network was out there, friends of the movement. They would guide the right people along. But even then, many who were granted entrance did not make it. And that’s why they were brought in blindfolded, unaware of where they were. Even if they had flown into Denver, his people would drive them around for eight hours. This protected the integrity of the compound, of the work they were doing.
The door opened before he was halfway up the walkway. A woman bowed her head as she moved out of his way.
“Are they up?” he asked.
She nodded and gestured toward the kitchen.
“I’ll take it from here.” He closed the door behind him and moved through the dimly lit hallway. The woman averted her gaze when he walked into the kitchen. He took in her ever-tanned complexion. The little glaring up at him caught his attention. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Game Boy; handed it to the kid. “Why don’t you go play in the other room?”
The boy tucked the Game Boy against his ribs. He moved closer to his mother. She wrapped her arm around him, pulled him close, then released him.
“Go on, son. This’ll take a minute.”
The boy looked up at his mother. Last time he’d visited her, it took a lot more than a minute. Her eyes misted over as she nodded and ushered him out of the kitchen. As his footsteps faded, she wiped her eyes and looked him in the eye.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He offered a disarming smile. “Yes, that would be nice.”
She turned to find him a mug and filled it with fresh brew. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
She crossed the room and set the mug down. After her hand released the handle, he grabbed her wrist. It wasn’t a rough gesture. Not at all. He was gentle and let his finger trace a line along the inside of her wrist.
“Sit,” he said.
She did as he instructed. The chair grated on the tile as she pulled it from under the table. He smiled when she apologized, attempting to set her at ease.
“If I did something,” she started, “or my son did, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
He released her hand and took a sip from his mug. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t smile from the eyes. He was always judging those around him, even the ones he trusted the most. This woman was not among that group. Though she was getting closer.
“What you did the other day,” he said, “was amazing.” He was referring to her trip into town. It was her first time out since arriving. Never knew how that would go. Some, well, when they saw an authority figure, they ran to them. Begged to be taken away and helped. She did no such thing. Even when left completely alone, she followed protocol and made it to the designated departure point early. And she followed the instructions that had been given to her for the time between arriving and leaving.
“I’m not sure what you are referring to,” she said, as she had been instructed. Never discuss what you do while you are out. Even he was unsure what task they had assigned to her. He only knew she completed it.
He waved her off. “It’s no big deal, really, but it has changed things for you and your boy.”
She studied him for a moment, searching for answers in his eyes. She would never find them there. “What do you mean?”
“You’re moving.”
She gasped and clutched her chest. “I’m sorry if we—“
He placed his hand over hers. She didn’t recoil or flinch, though the first tear fell. “You did nothing wrong. You’re moving closer to me. Just a building down. You’ll have a bigger place for you and your son.”
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she said. “We’re fine right here.”
“You deserve this. You’ve been a positive addition here. And you never know, you may find yourself in a position to receive a lot more responsibility soon.”
“I would appreciate that.” The exchange set her at ease. She leaned back in her chair,
smiled, wound her hair around her finger.
“I’d like you to come by this evening, after you are settled in. We’ll have dinner.” He gauged her reaction to the request. She had no choice, but he wondered how receptive she would be once over. It would be her first time in his house. “I rarely like to know the kids’ names. Leads to attachment. But I’m curious, what’s your boy’s name?”
“Robbie.”
“Marissa and Robbie. My new neighbors.”
15
I dozed on and off for three hours before deciding to get up and go for a quick run. I threw on my workout clothes and hurried down the stairs. The smell of coffee greeted me halfway down. Sun streamed in through the parted curtains, lighting a path through the middle of the house.
Before I could reach for the door, it opened, and Bridget, dressed in her workout gear, stepped inside. Her cheeks were flush red and sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Slacking today, huh, Tanner?” She slapped my arm as she walked past on her way to the kitchen.
“I’ll be back in thirty.”
With that, I headed out into the icy landscape and jogged fifteen minutes out, turned around, and came back. After getting cleaned up, I met Bridget at the kitchen island. She scooped three or four eggs worth of scrambled onto a plate for me and set down a full mug of coffee. Chit chat was minimal, mostly focused on our runs and the weather forecast. After a mostly sunny morning, another storm was due to roll in. I, for one, could not wait.
We made the trek back out to Lavelle’s during the morning rush hour. What should have been a thirty minute drive, give or take, ended up taking an hour. But that might’ve been for the best.
We both spotted it from more than a block away. Bridget swerved to the opposite curve and parked. The sun beamed through the windshield. A pain in the ass, for sure, but neither of us minded it. It meant anyone positioned ahead of us would not be able to see inside the vehicle. They’d only get the sun’s reflection.
A man in a camouflage green backpack and a bright red hat on backwards stood in Lavelle’s driveway behind the Mercedes. He had his hand on the tail end of the vehicle, tracing it back and forth. In his other hand, he held a large envelope.
“What do you think we have here?” Bridget said.
The front door opened and a man about Lavelle’s height and build appeared in the shadows. A moment later, he appeared in the light, confirming his identity. He had a clipboard in one hand, keys in the other.
“He’s not…” Bridget whipped her head in my direction. “Is he?”
The man with the backpack opened up the envelope and then reached for the clipboard. Lavelle handed him a pen, too. After the man wrote something down, he handed it to Lavelle, who scribbled something himself. Then the men shook hands, followed by Lavelle offering the other guy the keys. Then Lavelle took a few steps back, allowing the other man space to circle the Mercedes once before sliding in behind the wheel.
As the car backed out of the driveway, Bridget said, “He’s probably from the dealership, right? Like, home pick up for service or something.”
“Sure, if you want to believe that.”
“He didn’t just sell that car. There’s no way. This guy investigated crimes in the military. He knows better.”
Almost as soon as the Mercedes turned right and drove out of sight, another vehicle pulled up to Lavelle’s driveway. I had rolled my window down a few moments prior. We were close enough to hear Lavelle yell down to the driver to hold on for a few minutes.
“He’s gonna run,” she said.
“I think you’re right,” I said.
“Shit.” She grabbed her cell phone and placed a call. “Yeah, it’s me. Hey, look, need a favor here. I think this suspect is getting ready to flee. Think you can search for any travel reservations? Right, right? David Lavelle.” She gave his address and age, then hung up.
Lavelle reappeared with a duffel bag in hand and a backpack strapped on.
“He’s running.” She glanced at her phone.
“Think he was dumb enough to make those reservations in his own name?”
“Getting harder and harder to do otherwise now. What are the chances he’s got a false identity, complete with credit cards? I’ll save you the time. Zero. That’s the answer.”
The driver popped the trunk and exited the sedan. He tried to wrangle the duffle from Lavelle, but Lavelle wouldn’t have it. He refused to even place his belongings in the trunk.
“What you think he’s got with him?”
“Hopefully not Mrs. Lavelle.”
“Or Liliana Marin.”
Bridget shook her head. “Pretty sure wherever he winds up, Miss Lilly is gonna be there already.” She pulled her seatbelt across her body and eased off the curb, staying back while Lavelle’s Uber drove to the end of the street.
There was one way out of the neighborhood. We just had to see which way they’d turn when they got to the exit. There was minimal concern over the driver noticing us. He was being paid to drive, not watch for a tail. Lavelle would be nervous, but he was at a disadvantage in the rear seat.
Bridget answered her phone on the first ring. “Yeah. Vegas. Really? Do we know which hotel? No, not yet. Okay, no biggie. I know you’ll get that figured out. Right, if we even need to go that far.” She laughed before saying goodbye and hanging up. Inside joke, maybe. Whatever it was, she didn’t bring it up. “Flying out on United, flight 317. Departs in two hours. Still seats available, so get yourself a ticket while we’re on our way to the airport.”
“Vegas,” I said. “Love it there. The glitz and glamour.”
“The undercurrent of sin wrapping around everyone’s ankles, waiting for the right moment to pull them under.”
“Not a fan, I take it.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never set foot there. I mean, for something like this, yeah, I could. But on vacation? Forget it.”
“I dunno, I always had fun there.”
“Can we just not talk about it?” She raised an eyebrow in a way that said she was serious.
“Yeah, sure Bridge. Whatever.” I got on my phone and searched for a ticket. “You know if he’s in coach or first? Don’t wanna risk getting seated next to him.”
“Coach. Gonna have to open up that wallet and splurge for first class. Just stay away from the champagne.” She chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you reimbursed.”
“You guys better. It’s my damn taxes paying for it, anyway.” I completed the ticket purchase and switched my phone offline for the rest of the ride.
“I figure you’ll be coming back tonight, so we’re gonna head straight for DIA.”
“Yeah, no worries. I can pick up a toothbrush anywhere if I get stuck overnight.” I waited for her to smile, but she didn’t. “Thinking I should hang back a gate or two during boarding. Get on at the last minute, shield my face as I make the short walk to my seat.”
“Good idea.” She looked over her shoulder. “I might have a backpack in the trunk.”
“Nah, I’ll pick up a magazine or something in the terminal.”
“Remember, this guy’s former LE and military. He’s gonna have his head on a swivel.”
“It’s on my mind. Not too worried, though. We know where he’s at and where he’s going. He can’t deviate much in between. And if he runs…”
“Then we know he’s guilty.”
The airport exit was ahead.
“Try to get some details on Manny Delgado for me.” I switched my phone back on and waited for it to find a signal so I could get my ticket up. “And if anything came from Braxton’s interview with Anton.”
“Yes, sir.” She pulled up to the curb and looked at me with a smile. “Be careful, okay? Lavelle’s got somewhere to go. I expected we were gonna detour to a bank along the way.”
“Yeah, me too. I mean, we’re assuming it was a check; that the other man used to buy the Mercedes.”
“It is an assumption, but one I feel good about. So, if he didn’t de
posit or cash it out in Denver, he’s got a destination in mind in Vegas. Stick close, but watch yourself. He’s capable, and he might be desperate.”
“And if he runs?”
She glanced over my shoulder momentarily before replying. “Do what you have to, Mitch. I can help you in Vegas. Find yourself in a position where you have one phone call, better make it to me.”
“What about Sam?”
Grinning, she shook her head. “That’s the real love of your life, Tanner.”
16
I spotted Lavelle at the United counter, handing over his suitcase. Made no sense. The bag was small enough he could carry it on. Checking it forced him—or someone else—to wait for it at McCarran. Was he an idiot, or a mastermind?
Cell phone in hand, I snapped a few pictures of the bag before the man behind the counter moved it from the platform to the conveyor belt. It was a blue Samsonite with nothing special about it. Bridget could pass the photos to an agent in Vegas in the event Lavelle bypassed baggage claim.
I was in the middle of texting this to her, keeping one eye on the counter, when Lavelle turned to exit with his boarding pass. I did a one-eighty and put my phone to my ear while watching his reflection in the glass. He seemed almost too oblivious to the fact we were on top of him.
After ten minutes, I made my way to security, speeding through thanks to TSA Pre-check. Lunch sounded like a good idea. I found a seat at the bar in Breckenridge Brewery, about a ten-minute walk from my gate. My seat at the bar afforded a superb view of the foot traffic in the terminal. If Lavelle spotted me, it’d be easy enough to play it off that I was headed back home to Philly. Maybe he’d buy it. Either way, he’d be spooked.
I thought through the possible reasons he’d head to Vegas after selling his brand new Mercedes. No way he got what he paid, so he’s already down ten, maybe fifteen thousand. Did that mean there was more to the inheritance story than we were aware? Had he secured a portion of it because of his wife’s disappearance? And did that have something to do with Lilly vanishing so suddenly? My gut told me one of those two women was waiting in Vegas.