Night of the Hunted: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 11)

by Renee Pawlish

“You know what this means?” I said. “You’ll have to tell the press about it. It’s the only way you’ll be safe from him.”

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “William would kill me then.”

  “He won’t be able to touch you once you reveal whatever it is you know.”

  “But he’ll still be able to ruin me,” she said forcefully. “If I just go away, he’ll always wonder if I’ll come back and let the cat out of the bag. So he can’t do anything to me, even if he knows where I am.”

  “You had enough money to start a new life?”

  She nodded. “I pilfered it for months. I just wanted enough to get a new identity, get a small apartment somewhere. Start over. And I finally decided to go, and then this.” She waved a hand around.

  “If William’s as powerful as you say, what makes you think he wouldn’t have tried to find you?”

  She shrugged. “He might’ve. But it was worth the chance.”

  “Because you could blackmail him. You’ve thought about it before, but never did anything because you knew he might find you.” A nod. “Then you found something on him, so you decided to go for it.” Another nod. “And now that he knows you know something, we have an even more dangerous man on our hands.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you have on him?”

  She stared down at her hands as she gathered her thoughts and then she began.

  “Do you remember the Allied Associates case? It was on the news about ten years ago. William was the defending attorney.”

  I had to make my achy brain think hard. “Wasn’t that where some accountant swore he was being framed?” Cal had mentioned it. That seemed like a long time ago.

  “That’s the one. The accountant’s name was Ryan Devereux. He cooked the books for the bosses, but then denied doing it.”

  “Right,” I said slowly as the details started to come back to me. “Right. Allied Associates is a big firm here in town. Devereux said his boss had ordered him to falsify information, but he didn’t do it, and then when the government started checking into the firm, Devereux said they wanted him to destroy records.”

  “Correct, but Devereux denied doing anything wrong, and said that his bosses, including Edwin Thacker, the president of the company, changed the records and destroyed evidence.”

  I held up a hand. “Wait, you said Devereux cooked the books.”

  She nodded. “Devereux didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I found a letter that William received. The idiot left it on his desk.”

  “He just left it out?” I said skeptically.

  She shook her head. “It was an accident. He came home one evening, a few days ago, and he stood in the kitchen and opened the mail. That was his routine. He’d leave the junk for me to throw away and he’d take the rest to his office. Only this time, he opened an envelope, read what was inside, and exploded. I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t answer. He read the letter again, then seemed to get himself under control. But it was that scary, threatening calm. He finished with the rest of the mail, took the letter and a few other things, and hurried to his office. He slammed the door and I heard him on the phone, not at first, but then he started yelling about his career and what this would do to his run for mayor. Then he stormed out of the office and left. I waited until I saw his car drive off, and I went into his office. He’d left in such a tizzy that he forgot about the letter. It was on the desk. I didn’t touch it, but I read it.”

  I raised my eyebrows, waiting.

  “It was from Ryan Devereux. He said he had a way to prove Thacker and William had suppressed evidence at the trial that would prove he was innocent, and that he was going to turn them in.”

  “I can see why William was furious,” I said dryly. “He was right that it would not only kill his law practice, but his political aspirations as well.”

  “Yes,” she said, delight in her tone. “I knew I had what I needed to leave him.”

  “Did you steal the letter?”

  “No, but I took a picture of it.” Then she sighed. “Of course, it’s on my phone and William has it.”

  “Did the letter say what the evidence is?”

  “I wish, but no.”

  I mulled that over. “It has to be something big to have William fly off the handle like that. Any idea who he left to see?”

  “I think he said ‘Thack’, which was what everyone called Edwin Thacker.”

  “Makes sense.” I paused. “I still think you should go to the authorities with this.”

  “I don’t have the proof now. He has my phone, remember?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “My only hope is to find that letter again, or figure out what evidence William suppressed.”

  “So,” I said. “William knows that you know he suppressed evidence, and you thought this would keep you safe. Wait a minute.” Something didn’t sound right. I held up my hand again. “You told Kristin that William was ‘going to get what’s coming to him’.”

  She blushed.

  “Why would you say that, unless you were planning to rat him out?”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Okay, I was going to leave and then make some phone calls and tell the press. They might not have been able to prove anything, but the allegations would’ve hurt William.” A hard look crossed her face and she muttered a slew of bad names. “He deserves it, after all he’s done to me.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, ignoring the name-calling. “But the whole thing’s backfired on you.”

  She hung her head. “Maybe I should tell the press anyway.”

  I pondered that. “No, what you said earlier is right: with what evidence? You don’t have the picture, and it’ll be your word against his. And if he’s as slick as you say, he’ll frame you as a disgruntled wife, and unfaithful, to boot. It’ll go nowhere.”

  “You’re right,” she said dejectedly. “I’ve made a mess of things.”

  “No argument there.”

  We sat in silence for a moment.

  “I agree with you,” I finally said.

  “About what?”

  “We need to find the evidence Ryan Devereux was talking about. Then we have what we need to keep William from harming you, once and for all.”

  “How can we find it?”

  “Let’s get you to a safe place and then I’ll work on it. I can’t think straight while we’re on the run.” The whole evening was reminding me of the old film noir movie, Night of the Hunter, with Robert Mitchum. He played Reverend Harry Powell, a self-anointed preacher, and a serial killer, who marries a naïve widow in order to find where her husband had hidden $10,000. Then he murders her and chases her two children, who have escaped with the money. Some don’t consider Night of the Hunter noir, but I do. It has all the elements of the genre: high-contrast lighting, its use of shadows to create a dark mood, and a ruthless main character. Regardless, it’s a great film, and it’s creepy as hell. And right now, Holly and I were William’s prey. Was this our “Night of the Hunted,” I wondered, and could we get away?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  12:40 AM

  The revolving doors moved again and Holly spun around, eyes wide with fear. I looked over and breathed a sigh of relief. It was Willie. She’d thrown on jeans and a CU sweatshirt, and even though her appearance was slightly disheveled, she looked awfully good to me just then. I shoved myself up and took two steps before she was in my arms.

  “Hey, hon,” I said. I kissed her, then held her tight, so glad that she was nothing like Holly.

  “Reed, what’s going on? Are you all right?” She pushed me back and surveyed me.

  “It’s okay,” I said, then gestured at my head. “A slight headache.”

  “My fault,” Holly said as she stepped forward.

  I introduced them as I moved toward the revolving doors. “No one followed you?”

  “No,” Willie said. “Deuce is in the car.”

  I
nodded. “Good.”

  Willie eyed me again. “Reed, what’s –”

  “I’ll explain in the car,” I interrupted. “Let’s go.”

  We passed the bewildered front desk clerk and went outside. Deuce was waiting in the front passenger seat of the 4-Runner. He had the same gray eyes and blond hair as his brother, and he smiled at me in the same lazy way that Ace would. I took the keys from Willie while she and Holly got into the back seats.

  “Thanks for coming, Deuce,” I said.

  He nodded. “You can count on me.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful.”

  “Aw, shucks.” He smiled again.

  We’d barely hit the street before Willie said, “Okay, fill me in.”

  I spent the next ten minutes explaining everything, pausing only when Holly interjected something. “And that’s it,” I finally said as I turned onto the I-25 and headed toward Sixth Avenue. Traffic was light and we raced down the highway toward the western mountains. “Can I borrow your phone? I need to tell Cal we’re on our way.”

  “Who’s he?” Holly asked.

  “My best friend,” I said as Willie handed me her phone.

  “Does he know we’re coming?” Willie asked. I shook my head. She giggled. “Oh, he’s going to be delighted.”

  Deuce snickered, and then Willie laughed again.

  “What?” Holly asked.

  “Nothing,” Willie muttered.

  “Cal lives in Pine Junction,” I said, ignoring Willie and Deuce, who knew that Cal would not be pleased with my showing up with Holly. “You and Willie will be safe there.”

  “Away from everything?” Holly snapped.

  I took that as confirmation I’d been right not to let her stay at a hotel in town. I’d have to hope Willie and Cal could keep a close eye on her, though, because it wouldn’t surprise me if she tried to leave his place, even though it was away from everything.

  “It’ll be fine,” Willie assured her, although from her tone I knew she was wondering what Holly would think of Cal, and vice-versa.

  I dialed Cal, not worrying about waking him. He’s a night owl, and he works long and irregular hours, so I’d have been surprised if he wasn’t awake.

  “What’s up, Willie?” he said, recognizing her phone number.

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “It’s a long story. Want some company?”

  “Now?” he asked suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  I explained that I wanted Willie and Holly to stay with him, possibly for a few days, and when I finished, there was a long pause.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Reed, you know I’m here to help, but you want to bring two women here?”

  “One of them’s Willie, and she’ll keep Holly occupied.”

  He grunted.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. “Oh, and could you clean up a bit?”

  “The cleaning people were just here.”

  “Oh my, how lucky we are.”

  He ended the call without another word.

  “Everything okay?” Holly asked.

  “Cal’s excited that you’re coming,” I said. It was true, he was excited…but not in a good way.

  Deuce snickered again. Even he knew what I meant.

  ***

  The moon filtered through the evergreen trees that surrounded Cal’s house, which was a few miles west of Highway 285, near Pine Junction. A stillness born of the hour and the seclusion greeted us as we piled out of the 4-Runner.

  “It’s spooky,” Holly murmured as she glanced around. She yawned and stretched, then noticed that the temperature was quite a bit cooler than in Denver. She wrapped her arms around herself and narrowed her eyes at me.

  “It’s perfect,” I said. I strolled up to Cal’s door, and it opened before I could knock.

  “I saw you coming,” Cal said as a greeting.

  He has a state-of-the-art security system, so I was sure he was watching for us on one of the many video feeds. We walked inside and I introduced Holly.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Cal said, straining for politeness. He was on his best behavior, I suspected because it occurred to him that Holly's husband was a powerful man, and it wouldn't do to make her, or her husband, an enemy.

  We pushed on inside and into the living room. It was functional, if not cozy, sparsely decorated with a couch, loveseat, and mission-style coffee and end tables. A flat screen TV hung on one wall. I doubted Cal ever watched TV here since he spent so much of his time in his office. Holly took a seat on the couch, while Willie sat on the loveseat. Cal and I remained standing.

  “Come here, Deuce.” Willie patted the cushion next to her. “Sit by me.” Deuce sauntered over and sank down next to her. “I’m glad you came with me to get Reed. I was scared.”

  “Aw, it’s okay.” He clearly adored Willie and she loved him as well.

  “Deuce. That’s an interesting name,” Holly said.

  “It’s from poker,” Deuce said proudly.

  “Ah.” Holly nodded and glanced at me. I shrugged.

  “So,” Cal turned to me. “Fill me in.”

  I’d lost track of how many times I’d had to do this, but I told him everything as Willie and Holly interrupted with details.

  Cal eyed Holly after we’d finished. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve got yourself into a mess.”

  “That seems to be the consensus,” she murmured.

  “What do you do now?” Willie asked me.

  “The only way to keep Holly safe from William is to find that letter he received,” I said, “or find the evidence that William suppressed. If we have either of those, we have something to bargain with.”

  “Easier said than done,” Holly said.

  So true, I thought.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  1:25 AM

  I turned to Cal. “Feel like doing a little research?”

  “Of course,” he said, already heading to his office.

  I tipped my head at Holly. “Why don’t you come with us? I’ve got some questions for you.”

  “Sure.” She heaved herself wearily off the couch.

  “Sounds boring,” Deuce said. It was his mantra. He had an idea of the modern-day private eye, and it involved shooting guns, not doing research.

  “Hon,” I said to Willie. “Do you want to watch some TV with Deuce?”

  “Huh?” She glanced up at me. “Oh, sure,” she said through a yawn, picking up on my hint to keep Deuce entertained and out of my hair.

  With those two occupied, I led Holly down the hall to Cal’s office. It was different from mine. His was full of computer equipment, monitors, external hard drives, and even a server. To his credit, Cal had tidied up, so the usual dirty dishes and discarded food containers were not around.

  “Oh, my,” Holly said.

  “Be careful,” Cal chided her as she nearly stepped on some discs piled on the floor.

  She sidestepped them and dropped onto the loveseat, the only other seat in the room besides his desk chair. I leaned against the wall, crossed my arms, and stared at her.

  “Tell us about this case of William’s,” I said.

  “I don’t know much more than what I told you,” she said. “William certainly didn’t talk about it.”

  “This is the Allied Associates case?” Cal asked. “Edwin Thacker was sued for SEC violations and fraud?”

  She nodded. “The government said the company lost millions of dollars, but Thacker tried to cover it up so their stock wouldn’t be affected. Thacker denied any wrongdoing, and it came out during the trial that Ryan Devereux manipulated their books. But the government was never able to prove Thacker was involved or gave any orders to have others do his dirty work.”

  “Yeah, but Thacker at least knew about it,” Cal sneered as he started typing.

  “That’s what everyone thought, but without proof…” Holly’s voice trailed off.

  “Hol
ly saw a letter someone sent to William,” I said. “The letter writer claimed he had proof that William and Thacker suppressed evidence that Thacker was involved and not Ryan Devereux.”

  Cal eyed me. “He?”

  I in turn glanced at Holly. “Do you know if it was a man or woman who sent the letter?”

  “I thought Ryan sent it,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  Holly shrugged. “The postmark on the envelope was from Limon. That’s where the prison is that Ryan was sent to.”

  Cal typed for a second, then looked over at me. “Yep, that’s true. I remember Devereux is listed as an inmate at the Limon Correctional Facility.” Then he glanced at Holly. “The letter you saw wasn’t signed?”

  She shook her head.

  I eyed Cal. “For the moment, we’re assuming it’s a he.”

  “What’d the letter say?” he asked.

  Holly recited it again. “I think that’s all. Wait!” Her face scrunched up as she thought hard. “There was something about Bailey or Barley.” She threw up her hands. “I’m sorry, I just don’t remember. I took a picture of it and I thought that would be enough.”

  “It’s okay,” Cal said, surprisingly smooth with her. “It sounds like the letter was referring to a person.”

  “Check Allied Associates’ website,” I said to him. “Maybe Bailey, or whoever, is, or was, an employee.”

  His fingers played across the keyboard. Holly leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  “Hmm,” he said after a minute. “No one with that name, or something similar, works there. The closest is Indira Berney.”

  “Does that sound right?” I asked Holly.

  She opened her eyes. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe.” She closed her eyes again and let Cal and me work.

  I moved around so I could see the monitor. “What does Indira Berney do?”

  “This is just a list I found, poking around their employee records,” he said. “Let’s Google the name.” He typed again, and a moment later we had Internet search results. “Here’s a LinkedIn profile.”

  We both studied it. Indira Berney was an assistant for a project manager. I pointed at the screen. “Can you find who her P.M. is?”