Derek dropped the note on the bar. Looked at it. Started to read it again but all he could see were Nikkie’s dying eyes staring up at him from the white paper.
Rachel’s face was a mixture of anger, confusion and interest. Staring down at her phone’s screen, thumbing her way through images of pills.
“Son of a bitch,” she said. “Take a look.”
She handed her phone and the yellowish pill to Derek. On one side of the pill, the numbers “347” were etched. On the flip side, a single line stretched across the middle of the pill.
“Unless there are other pills exactly like this one and with the exact same markings, Jessica was taking Clozapine. It’s a drug used to treat schizophrenia.”
“Sounds about right,” Derek mumbled, taking the glass of scotch into his hands, raising it to his lips and taking a heavy draw.
“A hundred and eighty-five million thank you’s,” Rachel read from the note.
“That’s how much her husband had in his private accounts. That’s how much she was able to transfer to her account five days after she murdered him. FJ mentioned I was letting Jessica walk away with close to two million. Hundred and eighty-five is close enough.”
Rachel stood up, her face set in a determined countenance.
“We can find where she’s gone. We get Gracers’ lawyer to tell us where Sam’s private account was set up, trace where the money was transferred to.”
Derek just nodded his head a bit. Put a crooked grin on his face.
“What’s the problem?” Rachel demanded. “We can trace where she went.”
“All you can do is find where the money was sent. Jessica won’t be anywhere close to wherever the bank or financial institution is located. She’s gone. Only one way to find her now, and it’s not the way you’re thinking.”
Rachel sat back down on the barstool. Raised her drink to her mouth and drained the contents in one long pull.
“We need to make one more trip together,” she said. “To Anna Maria. Maybe, along with whatever cash she left for you, Jessica also left another note.”
“You can keep the money, if you want. I’m not interested.”
“She may have left another note. Come on, I’ll drive. It will take less than an hour. You’re not in a hurry to get anywhere.”
“There’s no note,” Derek said. “Just an envelope with a bunch of bills stuffed inside.”
“How can you be sure? Isn’t it worth a try? Damn, Cole. It’s one hour away. She could have left a note with information to blow FJ’s world apart.”
Rachel could tell a horrible realization came to Derek. Something awful by the look in his eyes.
“You need to call whatever police department is down on Anna Maria. Tell them to clear the area around that community library. Do it now, before someone else gets killed.”
“What now? What are you talking about?”
“When Jessica told me about this book,” Derek said, waving the copy of One Shot near his head. “When she was telling us Hilton and she passed notes to each other using the book, she told me the she read the book. Said it had an explosive ending.”
The look of confused interest etched across Rachel’s face slowly gave way to a different look. A look of fear. Of terror. Of urgent horror.
“You think she planted a bomb in the book?”
”She didn’t plant a bomb,” Derek said as he stood and dropped a hundred dollar bill on the boar. “She planted information. And, you’re right: We need to get down to that community library on Anna Maria before someone checks out the wrong book.”
Chapter 44
With the blue lights mounted behind the car’s grill flashing, Rachel sped south towards Anna Maria Island. She had called her department’s dispatch, gave a full run down of where she was speeding off to as well as specific directions to be relayed to the Manatee County sheriff’s department. Her directions were clear.
“Have them dispatch two cruisers immediately. Find the community lending library on Shore Road and make sure no one goes near it. Probably will need to canvass the area to find out if anyone checked a book out in the last few days.”
After telling her dispatcher to give the Manatee Sheriff’s Department her cell number, she ended the call and focused on getting to Anna Maria Island as quickly as she could.
“So you think after Jessica left Snead Island, right before Hilton was killed, she drove down to Anna Maria, put a copy of One Shot in the library, along with ten grand in cash? That’s quite a risk, don’t you think? Anyone could have checked the book out, taken the cash, before her five days were up.”
“Not much of a risk, actually. Tourist season is just getting going. Most of the people on the island are residents. Probably getting their places ready to rent out. People like that are too busy to bother getting a book from the community library. But today is Friday; meaning tourists taking a long weekend will be making their way to their rental homes on the island. Most vacation homes I’m familiar with have check-in time around three. It’s past three already.
“People who vacation on an island like to do two things: Lie on the beach and read a book. Jessica planned it perfectly. Planned everything perfectly.”
“What could she have left there? In the book? What information do you think she left that could be explosive?”
“I bet she knew a lot about what FJ DeNuzzio was up to. Sam probably shared more with her than just what Hilton was doing. Could’ve told her something about FJ. Something he’d be willing to kill to keep secret.”
As Derek finished talking, Rachel’s cell phone sounded. She answered the call, then listened quietly for close to a minute. She ended with “Thanks for the information. I’m on my way down.”
She reached under the steering wheel, flipped a switch, turning the warning lights off.
“That was a deputy with Manatee County. Said a copy of One Shot is in the little library but there’s no envelope.”
“Did they touch the book?”
“Nope, thank God. Said there’s a slip of paper sticking out of the book. Maybe a bookmark?”
“Probably a note. The note we are looking for, I hope.”
“Think someone made off with your payment?”
“Doesn’t matter. Things get expensive when you’re on vacation. Ten grand of found money is a great way to take the pain out of most vacations. The book is still there. That’s all that matters.”
“I’ll ask the deputies to canvass the area. Found out who took the money. You earned it.”
“Don’t bother,” Derek said. “If I found it in the library, I’d leave it for the next guy. May have even written a note on the envelope. Something like ‘Courtesy of Nikkie Armani.’ Something like that.”
The two finished the ride to Anna Maria Island in silence. Derek was thinking about Nikkie, about Lucy and about how seashells would always mean something different to him from then on. “Deathly reminders,” he thought. “They’re nothing but reminders of death.”
There were two marked sheriff cruisers, both with their lights flashing, parked alongside the road. Right in front of the community lending library. The library was a three-shelved bookcase, about three feet wide and three feet tall. Painted white, sitting on a white painted post. Sliding glass doors afforded access to the forty or so books. A tattered, dog-eared copy of One Shot sat on the middle shelf, a little to the left of middle.
After speaking briefly with the two Manatee County deputies, Rachel led Derek to the library, snapping on blue latex gloves as they neared. She slid open the glass door, grabbed the copy of One Shot. She flipped the book opened to where the note was peeking out from the top of the pages. Held it in front of her so Derek could read along with her.
“Holy shit balls,” Derek said. “Holy, holy shit balls.”
“Is this what I think it is?” Rachel asked. “Are these the notes Jessica said she and Brian Hilton wrote to each other?”
“Have to do a handwriting analysis to be certain,” Derek said, “but the no
te talks about going away to his lodge for the weekend,”
“Does this mean…that… Was Jessica telling the truth about her and Brian? Was she really gone when Sam Gracers was murdered? She was with Hilton at his lodge last weekend? Derek, what the hell does this mean?”
“Flip the note over,” Derek said, not caring to attempt answering any of Rachel’s questions. “Looks like there’s writing on the back.”
Rachel flipped the note carefully in her hands. Together, Derek and she read what Jessica had written on the backside of the slip of paper.
“You really are a great detective, Derek. That is to say, if you are reading this. I tried not to give away too much. Didn’t want to make things easy for you. But, you put two and two together and figured it all out. I am impressed! I put another note in with your cash. Separate envelope. Sure hope it’s still here when you arrive. The info in the other note should be more than enough to take care of FJ. One way or another - Jessica”
“Please tell me she’s right and you got this whole thing figured out.” Rachel was staring at Derek. The note in her hands was displaying the effects of the tremble in her hands.
Derek’s only answer was a slow shake of his head.
Chapter 45
Donald Reagan wasn’t what anyone would consider to be a gullible guy. Sure, he was taken in by Hilton and those two fucks who called themselves “doctors.” Cost him his business along with some permanent damage to his nervous system as a result of all the damn chemo and radiation. Still, he wasn’t what people would call a gullible guy. The man who had called him sounded pretty convincing. Convincing enough for Don to find out for himself if what the man had told him was the truth.
It wasn’t a long drive from his home in Sarasota to the main post office in Bradenton. The man who called him said there would be a key taped beneath the bench outside the post office. The key could be used to open PO Box 185.
“Now listen, man, I have no idea what this is all about. All I know is I went to get a book to read out of this tiny little library and I see an envelope with cash sticking out. I figured, ‘What the hell?’ right. So, I stuff the envelope in my pants, walk back to the house me and wife and kids are renting, open it up and find ten grand in cash. There was a note in there, too. Said the money was free to whoever found it but it came with a simple responsibility. Said I had to call you and tell you about where to find the key and what post office box the key would open. Said there’s information in the box you’ve been waiting to find. Good luck, man. Hope whatever is in that box is good for you.”
Donald Reagan found the key exactly where the anonymous caller said it would be. And, just like the caller said, the key opened PO Box 185. Inside the tiny box, was a thick, manila envelope. Too big for the tiny PO Box. Was shoved inside, all curled up the sides of the box. Reagan took the envelope out to his car. Sat down, started the engine and blasted the air conditioning. Pulled out the stack of papers inside.
On top of the stack of papers was a handwritten note, addressed to him.
“Mr. Donald Reagan.
I am terribly sorry for what Brian Hilton and FJ DeNuzzio did to you. Tricking you into believing you were dying of cancer, just so you would sell them your business? Dreadful. Positively dreadful. Inside this packet, you will find notes, which came into the possession of my recently departed husband. The information contained in these documents should be enough for you to demand prosecution of FJ DeNuzzio. To bring him to justice, once and for all. And I don’t care what form of justice you decide FJ DeNuzzio should receive.
Good luck, Mr. Reagan. And again, I am terribly sorry for all you’ve been through.
JG”
Chapter 46
The idea of flying home turned Derek’s stomach. Though he enjoyed being above the clouds, high above the same ground that contained the spilled blood of his wife and of Nikkie, he needed time to think. Three hours in a plane wouldn’t be long enough for him to see where his thoughts were leading him. Not nearly long enough.
He made no plans, no reservations for overnight stays. He just headed north, and drove.
He had barely passed the Florida state line before his cell phone rang. He wasn’t surprised to hear Rachel Gonzales’ voice.
“You’re not one for goodbyes, are you?”
Yesterday, after Derek and Rachel had driven back to his hotel from Anna Maria Island, he simply thanked her for all she had done and told her he’d keep in touch. The next morning, the only call he made was to Hertz to extend his rental and to change the drop off location.
“Had a few too many goodbyes in my life,” he replied. “And I’m pretty sure you and I will see each other again.”
“Soon?”
“Who knows? I have a feeling someone is either going to bring DeNuzzio to justice or will go vigilante and try to bring the ultimate justice to him. When either of those scenarios happens, I hope you let me know. Either outcome, I’d like to be in town for either his court case or his funeral.”
There was a short pause. Deep silence during which Rachel battled between telling Derek how sorry she felt for him or telling him how her growing feelings towards him were consuming her mind. In the end, Rachel’s internal battle in the silence was brought to an end as Derek resumed the conversation.
“I’m going to find Jessica. One way or another, I will find her. And I’ll make her tell me the truth about who killed her husband. About Nikkie. About everything.”
“Then what?”
“Two possible outcomes. If she killed Nikkie, I’ll kill her. If not, I’ll turn her over to the local authorities wherever I find her.”
“Shouldn’t be telling a cop you may kill someone. Could get you in trouble.”
“Not telling a cop,” Derek said. “I’m telling a friend.”
He had just finished eating dinner at a roadside BBQ joint outside of New Orleans when Rachel called him again. It had been three days and over twelve hundred miles since he had left Florida, and he was no closer to being home than after mile one. In fact, he was further away. He had been thinking, over the last several hundred miles, about just how far away from ever being home again he really was.
“You must be home by now,” Rachel began.
“Not even close,” Derek replied. Made it as far north as Kentucky before turning around.”
“You coming back down here?” she asked, her excitement palpable, practically pulsing its way through the cellular airwaves.
“Not unless you have something about FJ or Jessica. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, not exactly about either FJ or Jessica, but something I’m sure you will find interesting.”
“Go ahead. Tell me.”
“Tampa police department put out a bulletin this morning. All police departments do it when they have a serious crime and no one guilty sitting in their jail. This bulletin went out to a stream of departments surrounding the Tampa area.”
“And what did this bulletin say that was so interesting it inspired you to call me? Not that I mind the call, mind you. Just looking for some meat to chew on.”
“They had a homicide. Guy named Marcus James.”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”
“No, and neither should the name of his wife. Shantel James.”
“No bells going off with that name, either. They looking for her for the murder?”
“Not at all since she’s sitting in my county’s jail. She’s been sitting there for three weeks now, waiting for either someone to pony up bail money or for her case to go to court. Why she’s in jail isn’t important. What is important is who her cellmate was.”
“Jessica Gracers,” Derek said.
“Yip. Now, Shantel isn’t talking, but the guard who opened the cell door for Jessica when she was released stated Jessica and Shantel were talking to each other when she walked up to their cell. Said Jessica leaned in and whispered something to Shantel, who replied by telling Jessica her husband’s name.”
“Son of a
bitch,” Derek moaned. “I need to stop Jessica before more people get killed. Any leads on where she might be headed?”
“Nothing yet, but, there’s more.”
“What else?”
“I spoke with the detective on the James murder case. Said James was killed by a small caliber gunshot wound to his head. Middle of his forehead. Typical Jessica Gracers style, I suppose. He also told me something else. He told me about what was left at the scene. He didn’t think anything of it, but I sure did. I sure do, I should say.”
“And?”
“DVD case. Official looking one. The type of case big Hollywood movie studios put out for their movies. Want to take a guess at which movie the case was made for?”
“Jack Reacher. Based off Lee Child’s novel. Same novel Jessica Gracers said she and Brian Hilton used to pass notes back and forth from each other.”
“Yup,” Rachel said, her voice a mixture of playfulness and anger. “But, the disc inside wasn’t the movie. Any guess what was inside?”
“Can’t even begin to guess.”
“I found it strange that people as wealthy as the Gracers were didn’t have a top of the line security system installed in their house. I know they had a system, but I was curious why the wouldn’t have had a camera system set up as well.”
“Don’t tell me they had one but your department never checked the footage.”
“Four cameras. One with a panoramic view of the front of the house, same set up around the back. There’s one camera facing the front door and one in the garage.”
“And no one from your department thought about checking the recordings? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I asked Mathers—he’s the lead detective on the Gracers case in case you’ve forgotten. He said he did check for any recording but was told the cameras hadn’t been working for over three months. When he checked the recording device at the Gracers house, he found the system unplugged.”
Deathly Reminders: a Derek Cole Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 6) Page 27