by David Thurlo
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Ruth announced when she appeared at the office door. Charlie and Jake stood at the same time, both schooled in a previous generation’s gesture of respect for a lady. A few minutes later, they were all seated in the small office, coffee mugs in hand.
“So, catch me up on how Rene is doing at North Bosque Academy, Ruth. You mentioned that he was more excited to attend summer school than the rest of his classmates,” Charlie said, finally feeling at ease for the first time in days.
“He can’t say enough about all his new friends, his soccer team, and even his teachers. Finally being able to socialize has really brought him out of his shell.”
“That’s great news. You had to keep him close at home and away from the public for so many years, Ruth,” Jake pointed out.
Ruth hadn’t wanted to send her son to any school when he came of age, fearing that her secrets would be discovered when birth certificates and other documents for him would be required. When Charlie first met her, she was still living below the radar.
“I bet playing soccer takes a lot of energy out of him. That should help him get to sleep at night,” Charlie speculated.
“It does. The good thing is that soccer practice is in the morning before it gets too hot. But Rene’s still worn out by dinnertime. We read together, but he’s usually in bed by nine,” Ruth said.
“I’m looking forward to next Saturday. We have some great conversations,” Charlie said. Ruth worked every other Saturday and always brought Rene with her instead of finding a sitter. Rather than put him in front of a video game to pass the day, she made sure he divided his time between reading, schoolwork, and helping dust and clean. Of course, once in a while Charlie or Gordon would challenge the boy at an arcade game—with Ruth’s permission.
She smiled. “He missed you being here last time, Charlie. But Gordon kept him occupied cataloging the toys and games.”
“What’s he doing here at this hour?” Jake interrupted, looking up at the monitor.
“Detective DuPree? I hope nothing’s happened to the Randals,” Ruth said.
“Not likely. He’d be dealing with that instead,” Charlie said, moving to the back door.
DuPree was startled for a second when Charlie opened the door just as the detective was about to knock.
“I need to talk to you, Charlie. Outside would be better,” DuPree suggested, sounding excited for the first time in days.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Charlie said to Jake and Ruth, then stepped out onto the small loading dock, closing the door behind him. “How about some coffee first, Wayne?”
DuPree shook his head. “Maybe later. I need to pick your brain for any details or background Sam Randal gave about himself, or something his wife might have said that could prove useful. It turns out that the real Samuel Randal died during birth fifty-three years ago.”
“We talking about the same Sam Randal, from somewhere in Connecticut?” Charlie asked.
DuPree nodded. “Yeah. I’ve checked and double-checked. The person we thought was Sam Randal is an imposter, living under that name. His real identity is unknown right now.”
“You think he’s in the Witness Protection Program, like Ruth?”
“No, and I checked. Whoever this guy really is, his whole background, at least what’s in the databases, is fiction. Everything was planted, undoubtedly by someone on the inside, and very well done. But it’s all fake.”
“What about his fingerprints?” Charlie asked.
“There are none on record, and we never took his prints for comparison because we already knew the perps were wearing gloves so we didn’t need to rule anybody out. All along Sam was the apparent victim, not some stranger with a secret identity, so we had no reason to check that deeply into his record.”
“Nancy, Sergeant Medina? Does she know this?”
“Yes. Actually, she was the one who made the discovery and passed along the information to me. But listen, you’re supposed to be guarding Sam the rest of today and tonight, right?”
Charlie nodded. “You want me to get his fingerprints for you?”
“Exactly. But whatever you do, don’t let him suspect what’s going on. I want to find out everything I can about the guy before he knows we know.”
“This adds a whole new world of possibilities when it comes to a motive for the home invasion—and the kidnapping attempts. Right?”
“Correct. Until I know who Sam Randal really is, I don’t want to make a move. If he’s a fugitive, he may bolt if he suspects we’re onto him.”
“You think Margaret knows the truth?” Charlie asked. “She kept information from us before, regarding that electrical contractor, Eldon. Why not lie about Sam as well?”
“It’s possible. She’s a local, with ties here that can be checked out, but Sam may have kept the truth from her, at least until he came under attack.”
“If he did open up to her, that’s a reason for Margaret to lie about being able to identify Ray Geiger,” Charlie speculated. “He might have convinced her that it’s for their own protection. We’ve suspected for some time that there must be an underlying connection between Sam and the Geigers.”
“Which is why we don’t want to tip our hand. I need you to get those prints. I’d do it myself or send a tech, but I’d need a warrant, and that would tip him off. Once you get the prints, I’ll have them run. We need that information and we need it fast, and I’m willing to risk getting into trouble.”
“Okay, Wayne. I’ll find a way to get some good prints sometime today. Worst case, tonight. I’ll be escorting Sam and Margaret home and spending the night at their place. I’ll pass along a bottle or glass that Sam has handled to Nancy.”
“Good. So, for now, I’m going to dig deeper into anyone Ray or Frank knew from their past, back in Connecticut or wherever. If I get a hit on Sam’s real identity, all the better.” DuPree glanced toward his car and thumbed the key fob.
“Before you go, have you learned anything new about Jim Eldon? We have his description now.”
DuPree nodded. “I got that from Medina. Looks like Eldon’s not involved, at least directly. The reason why officers haven’t been able to track him down until today is because he’s been on a job for a friend who has a cabin near Navajo Dam, up in the Four Corners. Eldon’s been out of central New Mexico for the past week, including last Sunday.”
“Good to know. Meanwhile, I’ll get back to work, Wayne. Okay if I tell Gordon about Sam?”
“Yeah, he can keep a secret. Just him, though.”
“Of course. But once you know who he really is, you’re going to tell me?”
“Yeah. After all the crap you’ve been through, you deserve to know the rest of it.”
A half hour later, Gordon arrived at FOB Pawn, having delivered Sam and Margaret to Firm Foundation for the workday. As he entered the office, Charlie saw him through the Plexiglas window and nodded. Once he finished the paperwork on a transaction, Charlie had to tell his pal the news about the man formerly known as Sam.
* * *
Gordon was barely able to contain his anger. Charlie hadn’t expected any other reaction, and although they were working, they spent every free moment during the next hour trying to recall anything that might lend a clue to Fake Sam’s real background. They even tried to recall his speech patterns, vocabulary, and accent but could only confirm that, yes, he was probably from somewhere back east.
Finally Charlie had an idea. He walked over to where Gordon was standing beside the front register, waiting for a customer who’d gone back to look at something in one of the displays.
“Gordon, did the Randals have their usual wine last night with dinner?”
“Yeah, some red wine with an Italian pasta dish. The three of us finished off the bottle. What does this have to do … Oh, yeah. Sam opened the wine with that fancy cork remover and poured for all of us. His prints are all over the bottle.”
“And now it’s in the trash. Outside, hopeful
ly?”
“Yeah. Sam took it out, but I led the way to make sure the backyard was safe. The trash, well, garbage too, is in one of those white plastic bags with the red ties. You plan on going through the smelly stuff?”
“Yep. This way I won’t have to try to pick the lock or use the key Margaret gave Gina. Keeps everyone else from being put on the spot. How about I go now, before lunch, and pass the bottle along to DuPree or Nancy? We don’t want the summer heat to degrade the prints.”
“At least the trash container is in the shade. Go, but take along some wipes and paper towels, and hope that bottle didn’t come into contact with any gooey stuff.” Gordon grinned.
“How gooey? What didn’t you guys eat all of last night?”
Gordon laughed. “Hey, if the bottle is all messed up, you can always use the key and go inside their house to look for something else. Just remember to turn off the alarm as soon as you get inside.”
“What’s the code for the keypad?”
“I have no idea, so forget that. Let’s hope the bottle is clean—except for the prints, of course. Good luck.”
“Yeah. And don’t worry, this shouldn’t take long. I’ll be back,” Charlie replied.
“Copy.”
* * *
Gina and Nancy were both at work, but Charlie had a key to their place and let himself in through the front. He walked into the kitchen area, opened a cabinet drawer—he knew where the girls kept things—and brought out an empty paper grocery bag. He grabbed some paper towels next, then went out through the French doors onto the patio. Seconds later, he was over the wall, across the alley, and in the Randals’ backyard. He opened the big plastic waste container underneath the eaves along the side of the house and found three filled plastic bags inside. He reached down and pulled out the one on top by the red ties. When he eased it down onto the concrete pavers, glass clunked, and he suspected he had the right bag.
Untying the plastic tie, he found the green Cabernet Sauvignon bottle immediately, relatively clean, cork still intact, among mostly used paper towels and an empty frozen-veggie bag. He gripped the bottle by the top of the neck and placed it into the grocery sack. After putting the trash back into the container, he returned to Nancy and Gina’s kitchen, locked up, then climbed into the van. Looking around in case any neighbors might be watching, he brought out his phone and called Nancy. If she was closer, he’d hand over the bottle to her rather than DuPree, who might be downtown.
Fifteen minutes later, he met up with Nancy outside a small New Mexican restaurant on Fourth Street and handed over the sack containing the bottle. Then he headed back to FOB Pawn.
* * *
Around four thirty, Charlie left the shop to pick up Margaret and Sam. He and Gordon both were frustrated that there was still no news from DuPree or Nancy on Sam’s identity. The lab people should have gotten a hit by now if there was a set of prints on file. Gordon was going to stay behind with Jake until closing. Ruth had clocked out at four to pick up Rene.
He was driving up the frontage road from the south when the sound of a siren from behind interrupted his musings. Glancing in the side mirror, Charlie saw the flashing lights of a police vehicle and slowed, pulling to the right just as it hurtled past.
Uneasy at the thought, he glanced ahead, looking in the direction of the Firm Foundation buildings and yard. It was still a half mile away, but there were lights flashing in that area as well. Charlie reached over for his cell phone on the console, then realized he could probably get there before the call was answered. He pulled back into his lane and accelerated toward the turnoff onto August Avenue, hoping, with a trace of guilt, that it was someone other than the Randals who’d just created a need for the cops. Well, not so much with Sam, who was, at the very least, a fraud and a liar.
His stomach sank when he approached and saw that one of the emergency vehicles was a white EMT unit and that people were clustered around the open gate. As he slowed and pulled over to the curb, the rescue people were tending to someone on the ground at the entrance to the yard.
Charlie parked, and as he was climbing out of the van he noted an APD police officer looking his way, hand on the butt of her service weapon. Thinking it might be wise, he reached down and removed his holster containing the Beretta and placed it on the floorboard of the van. Then he locked the vehicle.
“Charlie!” Sam Randal yelled, stepping away from the gathering of employees and emergency personnel. “Margaret is gone! I think she’s been kidnapped! And one of my security guards was attacked.”
Another police officer, a sergeant, intercepted Sam and held him back, removing him from the group. Charlie wanted to know everything, of course, but knew that a smart cop didn’t compromise a witness—or have him talking to a civilian before he could be interviewed.
“Mr. Henry?” the sergeant asked.
“Yes. Charlie Henry. I’m here because I was supposed to transport the Randals back home. Detective DuPree and I spoke just this morning. He and Sergeant Nancy Medina can both vouch for me.”
“The detective has been notified and should be on scene within minutes,” the officer explained. “Mr. Henry, please don’t speak to anyone except our officers until the detective arrives. It’s procedure.”
Charlie knew the drill, so he walked over to those clustered around the wounded security officer. It was a woman, not Pat, he quickly learned. People all around Sam Randal were getting hurt, and now Margaret was missing. It was time to confront the man and find out just who he was, and why his wife was in danger once again.
Chapter Twenty
Charlie realized the woman security guard was still alive when he saw her struggling to sit up. The EMTs working on her, however, coaxed her to lie back down and tell them what happened. The second guard standing there, Pat, managed a smile, then walked over to join the sergeant speaking to Sam. A second officer joined them, leading Pat away from the two.
There was the sound of squealing tires in the street, and Charlie looked over as Detective DuPree climbed quickly from his unmarked car. DuPree walked toward the people clustered around the EMTs, who were lifting the injured woman onto a gurney, then noticed Sam, the police sergeant, and Charlie, who was as close to Randal as permitted.
DuPree motioned to Charlie, a scowl on his face.
“Once I speak to my officers and learn what went down, I need to interview Sam, so keep an eye on him. It’s time to confront Randal. If his wife has been kidnapped, this might be the best time to apply the pressure. Got that?” DuPree stated.
Charlie nodded. “Maybe that will lead to a motive for why all this has happened.”
“I’m hoping. We may need to keep him out of jail for a while longer in order to get his wife back. My priority now is her safety. I’ve got to get what I can on Margaret’s abduction and what happened to the woman security guard before the FBI steps in. I may have to fight them to retain custody of Sam.”
DuPree walked over to Sam, spoke to him a few seconds, and then pointed toward the business office. Sam nodded, then headed toward the building.
Once Sam entered his office, Charlie waited outside, watching the door out of the corner of his eye. At the same time, he inched closer to listen as DuPree and the officers questioned the other Firm Foundation employees. Overhearing Pat, the male security guard, Charlie learned that he’d been away with Sam, who’d been called to a work site in response to some vandalism. When they returned to the yard, they were the ones who’d discovered the open gate—the lock cut off—and the unconscious woman security guard.
According to what she was able to tell them after regaining consciousness, the guard had come to the gate to see what the man wanted. But she’d been Tased, then injected with a syringe before she could draw her weapon or yell for help. Whatever she was given knocked her out in just a few seconds.
Moving closer to the fence, Charlie was able to see that the surveillance camera mounted up high to monitor gate traffic had been damaged. From a distance, it looked l
ike the optics had been shot out. It must have been a silenced, small-caliber round, however, or someone at the yard would have heard.
The approach of a marked police car and a familiar-looking pickup got his attention. Charlie stood, watching, as Nancy climbed out of her unit and strode toward the gate. Gordon jumped down from his own vehicle and hurried to catch up with her.
Nancy passed through the taped-off area, accompanied by Gordon, who walked in her footsteps until they were clear. She continued on toward DuPree, signaling for Gordon to stay behind.
“Gordon,” Charlie called and got his attention.
“Should have called, sorry,” Charlie apologized as his friend approached. “DuPree sent Sam to his office, out of the way until he has a chance to grill him.”
“Randal needs to start telling the truth if he hopes to get Margaret back. What went down here, anyway?” Gordon asked.
“From what I’ve overheard so far, the attacker apparently lured the woman guard to the gate, Tased and tranked her, then cut the lock and took Margaret from the office. He got away with her, and I don’t know if anyone ID’d the vehicle.”
“What about the cameras?” Gordon asked, looking at the posts.
“I think the one at the gate was put out of action by a .22 with a suppressor. Don’t know about the others, not yet,” Charlie explained.
“You talk to Sam?” Gordon asked.
“Just a few words before DuPree sent him inside. Wayne wants to get as much of the truth as possible from Sam before the Feds show up.”
“Who do you think snatched Margaret? Certainly not some damned amateur. This whole thing is a lot bigger than that,” Gordon replied grimly.
Charlie shrugged. “Yeah, but we were supposed to keep her safe. Let’s see if we can get her back. My money is still on the Geiger connection—Frank, probably. Ray is no Einstein.”
“While DuPree is working things here, let’s see if we can get a lead on our own, maybe get an image of whatever the kidnapper was driving. There’s that RV storage facility at the frontage road intersection up there, Charlie. Most of them have cameras. If they’re working and have the right angles, maybe they have a shot of a vehicle coming and going on this street during that time frame.”