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

by Renee Pawlish

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “If I do, I’ll go to jail,” she whispered.

  I leaned back against the door. “You manipulated the books, not Ryan Devereux.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then she nodded. “Yes. I handled the cover-up, along with Edwin Thacker. At first, he just wanted a few things taken care of, like not reporting some funds, or hedging expenses. I wasn’t happy about doing it, but I needed my job. Then I found out Thacker was in deep. He’d been manipulating figures for a long time, affecting stock prices. I confronted him about it and he said if I told anyone, I’d be in trouble, too. He had me, because I had done some illegal things.”

  I interrupted. “Why not turn state’s evidence and ask for immunity?”

  She frowned. “I thought about it, but I wasn’t sure if I would’ve had to serve jail time, and I didn’t want that. Then the economy tanked and things went south for Allied Associates, and he was charged with fraud. He came to me,” she pointed into a living room off to my right. “He sat right in there and said that the company was in trouble, that he was in trouble, and if I helped him, he’d make it worth my while.” She glanced into the living room and got a faraway look in her eyes, as she remembered the conversation.

  “Let me guess. He gave you money.”

  “He offered me ten million dollars. And then he threatened me again, saying if he went to jail, I would too.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to go to prison, and I didn’t want to lose everything I’d worked so hard for…so I agreed. I shuffled paperwork around and made it look like Ryan Devereux had manipulated the books.”

  “He had nothing to do with it?”

  She shook her head. “But I went into court and said he did. And, of course, the evidence showed that.”

  “Do you have proof? Otherwise, it’s just your word against Ryan’s.”

  She snorted. “I have proof. I documented what I’d done, just in case I ever needed it.”

  “Like if Thacker or Rasmus ever tried to double-cross you,” I said wryly.

  “Exactly.”

  “So Ryan went to prison, protesting his innocence the whole time.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I feel horrible about it.” She waved a hand around. “I’m depressed. I don’t get anything done. I drink too much, but it doesn’t help.”

  I didn’t feel sorry for her. I’d screwed things up myself in the past, but I’d tried to make it right. That was the only path to a clean conscience.

  “And now we can assume that Rasmus and Thacker are panicking because Devereux has uncovered information that not only will prove his innocence, but will show they broke the law. And you, too.”

  “How do you know Ryan sent the letter?”

  “Holly saw the envelope the letter came in. The postmark was from Limon.”

  “Ryan was sent to a prison in Limon.”

  “Yep,” I said. “And I’m sure Ryan isn’t going to keep quiet about what he knows. He’s probably trying to contact the appropriate people now, so he can get out of prison.”

  She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s probably better this way. I can’t live with myself anymore.”

  “I doubt Rasmus or Thacker would agree.”

  She gestured with the gun and I flinched. Not very Bogie-like, but I’d chalk it up to being tired.

  “They better be careful,” she said.

  “You should, too. If Rasmus is as dangerous as everyone says, what will he do to you if he finds out you’re going to spill the beans?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care anymore.” Then she let out a humorless laugh. “Thacker figured the money would be enough to keep me quiet. And it was, for a while.”

  “For what it’s worth, you’ll feel better in the long run if you tell the truth.”

  “Yeah?” She didn’t look relieved.

  “Did you receive a letter from Ryan?” I asked.

  She shook her head, and neither of us spoke for a moment. Then she said, “What are you going to do now?”

  “How about you and I go talk to a lawyer about everything? Once Rasmus and Thacker know there’s proof they suppressed evidence, they’ll have to leave Holly alone.” And me, I thought but didn’t say.

  Another mirthless laugh. “Fat chance.”

  “You just said it’d be better to have this all come out.”

  She glared at me. “I’m rethinking it.”

  “Fine,” I said. I should’ve known she wouldn’t cave that easily. I was back to square one. “Then I’ll find the letter Ryan sent to Rasmus and take it to the authorities.” And I’d need to see if Cal could dig up any proof that Joan and Thacker manipulated the books instead of Ryan, because I didn’t have a lot of hope that I’d find the letter. But I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  She raised the gun. A crazy look had crept into her eyes. “Maybe I should stop you from doing that.”

  I held up my hands again. “You don’t want to do that and have a murder charge on top of everything else.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. I’ll say you tried to break in.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” I repeated.

  “I…don’t know what I want anymore.” Her lower lip quivered, and then her hand. “I need a drink.”

  The gun lowered. I yanked the door open and bolted outside. I bounded down the steps and into the street, then glanced over my shoulder. Joan stood in the rectangle of light in the doorway, her hands at her sides. I ran all the way to the 4-Runner, leaped inside, started it and peeled away. Not a graceful exit, and again, not like Bogie, but I was alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  3:25 AM

  I floored the gas and the 4-Runner screeched around the corner and onto Iowa Street. Then I flipped on my headlights. I gripped the wheel hard and tried to regulate my breathing. For a second, I’d wondered if that was to be the end of me. I turned onto Sixth Avenue, and as I drove east toward downtown, I assessed the situation.

  The letter that William Rasmus had received, and Holly had seen, had been correct. Ryan Devereux was innocent, and Rasmus, Edwin Thacker, and Joan Bennett were guilty. But even if I had the letter, it didn’t have any proof of what they’d done. And I needed to prove that she and Thacker had broken the law. That was the only thing that would keep Rasmus from destroying Holly and possibly me. I got out Willie’s cell phone and dialed Cal.

  “How’d it go?” he asked, all business.

  “The letter’s accurate.”

  “Yeah? Joan told you that?”

  “She did more than that. She confessed to cooking the books, along with Thacker, and they framed Ryan Devereux. Then she threatened to shoot me.”

  “I warned you about the gun,” he said sardonically.

  “I can laugh now, but it wasn’t funny a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay. So now you have what you need, right?”

  “Not quite. Joan isn’t ready to go to the authorities with what she knows, so I don’t have anything concrete. It’d still be my word against William’s.”

  “What if you get the letter?”

  “I’m going to the Rasmus house now to see if I can find it.”

  “What if William’s home?”

  In my rush not to get shot, I hadn’t thought of that. I’d just assumed that he and Andre both would be trying to find Holly and me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll play it by ear. But I don’t think the letter’s enough. I still need tangible proof that Joan was involved, and not Devereux.”

  “And that’s where I come in,” he laughed.

  “You got it. See what you can dig up on her.”

  “That’s going to take some time.”

  “I figured that. She said she documented what she was doing, so I don’t know if there’d be anything still on some company servers, or if she’s got anything on a home computer.”

  “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but she could’ve destroy
ed all electronic traces of what she did.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “I may have to coerce her into giving up what she has.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “Beats me.” Another thought occurred to me. “While you’re at it, dig into Edwin Thacker. I want to know everything about this guy, right down to what he ate for breakfast.”

  “I’ll get started on it.”

  “Great. I’ll call you in a while.”

  “Okay. Hey, Reed, hang on a second. Willie wants to talk to you.”

  I heard him say something, and then Willie came on the line.

  “Hey, babe, did it go okay?”

  “Fine,” I lied. No need to worry her more than I’m sure she already was. “Joan had some information, but I need to go to William’s now.”

  “What for?”

  “To try to find the letter.”

  “Now?”

  “There’s no time to lose.” She was in real worry-mode, but in my present mood, I didn’t have the patience for it. “Hey, I need to get going, okay? Don’t worry about me. I always come out on top.”

  “So far…but wait, I really wasn’t just checking up on you. Holly got hold of Cal’s phone and she called her sister.”

  “What? She already talked to her sister.”

  “When?”

  “At the Ritz. She called Kristin while we were waiting for you.”

  “Oh. Well, she said she called her again.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Is that the only call she made?”

  “As far as I know, but she told her sister where she was.”

  I swore under my breath. “Can you put her on the phone?”

  “Hold on.”

  A pause as I heard both women’s voices, then Holly spoke into the phone. “Reed, I know what you’re going to say, but I had to let Kristin know I was here.”

  “No, you didn’t. You already talked to her and that was enough info. Wait a minute. You didn’t talk to Kristin, you talked to Paul, didn’t you?”

  “Uh…”

  “Holly,” I said as if I was scolding a child. How stupid could she be?

  “I had to. When I called Kristin earlier, I could hear him in the background. He was furious, so I thought I’d call and let him know that everything would be okay.”

  “What’d he say?”

  She hesitated. “He’s still furious. He said he’s going to confront William.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if he tells William where you are?”

  “I didn’t give him an address, I just said I was in Pine Junction with a friend of yours.”

  “Great,” I said again. “I’ll bet William can figure it out if he wants.”

  “Oh,” she moaned. “I screwed up again.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Do me a favor. Stay out of the way, okay? Get some sleep or watch TV, but keep your mouth shut. The last thing I need is you blabbing to everyone about where you are.”

  “I will,” she said, thoroughly chastised.

  “Let me talk to Willie.”

  Another pause, and then Willie was back on the phone.

  “I’m sorry, Reed. Cal forgot there was a landline in the spare bedroom. We didn’t even realize she was on the phone until I heard her raise her voice.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “I don’t know. I think she called someone stupid. And then ‘I said no communication’. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Keep her from making any more calls, okay?”

  “We will.”

  “And get some sleep.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I love you,” I said, feeling it deep in my core.

  “I love you, too,” she said and ended the call.

  I put the phone away, stared out the windshield, and seethed. If Rasmus somehow managed to find out where Holly was, it would put not only her, but Willie and Cal, in danger. I could see how Holly wouldn’t think anything of telling Paul where she was, but she should know her husband would stop at nothing to find her. I hoped I’d scared her enough that she wouldn’t tell anyone else.

  There was hardly any traffic and I was nearing downtown, so I turned on Dahlia Street, flicked off my headlights, and slowed down. I drove slowly toward Holly’s house. No cars were in the driveway and the house was dark. If Rasmus was at home, he was likely sleeping. But I doubted that. He needed to find Holly and deal with Ryan Devereux, so he was probably doing just that. I looked around for the SUV as I passed the house, but I didn’t see it parked on the street. It was either in the garage, or Andre, and also Rasmus, were gone. I drove to the end of the block, flipped a U-turn and parked a few houses down. I grabbed binoculars from behind my seat and studied the house. Nothing moved, but I’d also seen the “nothing” at Joan Bennett’s house, and I’d been surprised there. So I waited a few more minutes to be sure the Rasmus house was quiet. Then I put the binoculars away and reached for my lock-pick set under the seat.

  “Damn,” I said. It wasn’t under the seat. Rasmus and Andre had taken it from me.

  I cursed again for good measure, then rummaged in the glove box. I found some papers fastened with a couple of paperclips, so I took the paperclips and stuffed them in my pocket, along with a small flashlight. I had no idea if I could pick a lock with paperclips, but I’d have to try. I got out and hustled across the street and up to the Rasmus house. I crossed the lawn and paused on the side of the garage, as I’d done earlier in the day. I took out the flashlight and shined it through the garage door. The BMW was there, but not the SUV. Did that mean Rasmus was there, but not Andre? I had a fleeting thought that I should go ring the bell, and if Rasmus was there, I’d confront him, but I dismissed that idea. Rasmus had a gun, and when he saw me at the door, I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot me without a thought. I was going with my gut feeling that he was gone. If I was wrong, I’d deal with the consequences.

  I sneaked around to the back of the house and peered over the fence. The back of the house was dark, too. I tried the gate. This time it was unlocked. I waited a second, then dashed across the porch to the back door. And was reminded that it was a sliding glass door. I had no clue how to pick that kind of lock. I frowned. I did not want to stand on the front porch and try to get inside, but I’d have to try. But before I left, I tested the door. And it slid open. I waited to see if an alarm sounded. None did, so I stepped inside and checked the alarm panel that I’d seen earlier. It was disarmed. Odd.

  My breathing was loud, so I took a few slow breaths as I stood in the kitchen and listened. The silence was overwhelming. I noticed I’d balled my hands into fists, so I unclenched them, then tiptoed upstairs to the master bedroom. I listened again. No sounds of breathing, so I took a chance and flicked on the flashlight. The bed was empty. I quickly checked the rest of the bedroom and bathroom, just to be sure, then checked the other bedrooms. Empty as well, as was, I concluded, the rest of the house. I hurried back down the stairs to Rasmus’s office. I turned on the flashlight and almost yelped. William Rasmus was lying on the floor, a bloody hole where his right eye should’ve been. He was dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  4:10 AM

  In my time as a private investigator, I’d come across dead bodies a couple of times. It didn’t make finding Rasmus’s body any easier, although I didn’t feel the nausea I’d felt the first time I’d encountered a corpse. I stood still, acutely aware of the metallic odor of blood. He hadn’t been shot that long ago.

  I remembered that Rasmus’s office was at the front of the house, so I glanced toward the bay window and verified that the blinds were closed. Then I shined my flashlight around the room, half expecting Rasmus’s killer to jump out at me from the shadows. But the house remained silent. The two wingback chairs were not disturbed, nor was the chess set on the table in the corner, so it seemed likely that Rasmus hadn’t fought his killer. I flashed the light on the bookcases
, but everything appeared to be in its place. If something was missing, I had no way of knowing. A glass half-filled with brown liquid sat on a coaster on the coffee table. I didn’t see any blood around the room, which meant the bullet that killed him was probably still in his head. That indicated a small-caliber gun had been used to shoot him. I bent down and used the flashlight to turn his head slightly. No exit wound that I could see. I wanted to check for a pulse, but I’d heard forensics could find fingerprints on skin now, so it wasn’t worth the risk and I didn’t check. I did put a finger under his nose and felt for breath. Nothing. Yep, he was dead.

  I flashed the light all around his body, looking for what, I wasn’t sure. Rasmus was wearing the same gray suit I’d seen him in earlier in the evening, his tie loosened. Did that mean he hadn’t been home for very long before he was killed? That would make sense if he had been out looking for Holly and me. But then, had I seen him at Joan’s in a hoodie? Doubtful, unless he’d worn a hoodie over his suit. Then who was it, and had that person raced over here and killed Rasmus right before I got here?

  I straightened up and thought quickly. Had a neighbor heard the shot? Not likely, since a small gun wouldn’t have been that loud, most likely no more than a popping sound. Also, the house sat back from the road, and the noise of a gunshot wouldn’t carry far. And even if someone had heard the shot, I would expect to have seen them outside, or to have seen the police by now. But I wasn’t going to dally, in case Andre or the police showed up.

  With that in mind, I walked gingerly to Rasmus’s desk and focused the flashlight on it. Rasmus appeared to be a neat, organized man, judging by the desk. The only things on it were a phone and a desk organizer with pens and pencils. No stray papers or anything else lay on the desk. I used my hand through my shirt to cover up my fingerprints and opened the drawers and rifled through them, only to find files with bills and financial information, spare notepads, and other office paraphernalia. But I didn’t see the letter that Holly had seen.

  Wait a minute, I thought. There’s no computer or laptop. That was odd. I came around the desk and explored the rest of the room, looking for a laptop, or for a briefcase or bag where a laptop could be stored. If I could find it, I could have Cal hack into it and see if we could find anything on the Thacker case. Yeah, it’d be stealing, but these were special circumstances. And then I spotted a brown briefcase leaning against the side of the couch. I went over and opened it, again using my hand through my shirt. It held some files and legal-sized notepads with writing on them, but no laptop. I gingerly picked up one of the notepads by its edges and saw some names on the papers: Joe Fielding; Dean Johnson. They meant nothing to me. Then I thumbed through the files, careful not to leave fingerprints. It looked like the files pertained to his cases, and it made sense that he’d have them with him. I was about to set them down when I noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out of the lining at the bottom of the briefcase. I set the files aside and looked more closely, then felt around the lining with my hand. Papers rustled. Something was underneath the lining.