Bounty Hunter Ransom

by Kara Lennox

  “A million dollars would have been nice,” Lori agreed blandly. “But that’s not what’s bugging you. I know what motivates you. And it’s not money.”

  “How can you say that?” he asked, messing with the weights on the home gym so he could do some leg extensions. “Why do you think I became a bounty hunter?”

  “Ace became a bounty hunter for the money,” she said. “You did it so you could right wrongs. Take down nasty criminals. Find lost children before any harm comes to them.”

  “You make me sound like some kind of saint. Honey, I’m far from that.”

  “Not a saint,” Lori agreed. She abandoned her computer search and walked over to watch him sweat. Or so she could look him in the eye. “It’s Aubrey Schuyler, isn’t it?”

  “What? No, of course not.” He knew he’d denied it a little too quickly.

  “There’s some kind of spark between you two. Come on, you can tell me. What happened while you were protecting her body? Did you do a little more than protect it?”

  Damn, but she had a way of prying the truth out of a person. He’d take Lori with him next time he needed to interrogate someone. He didn’t answer her, but his silence told her what she wanted to know.

  “Want some advice?” she asked brightly.

  “No.”

  “I’ll give it to you anyway. She’s as hot on you as you are on her. A woman can tell these things about other women.”

  “I shot her brother. She’s not going to get over that.”

  “She could.”

  Beau just shook his head. “Drop it, okay?”

  Lori shrugged as Beau began his next set. “Okay. Oh, your friend Craig called. Something about wanting your input on the evidence against Cory Silvan.”

  “Like I’m an expert on the guy?” But Craig usually didn’t make frivolous requests. Beau made a mental note to call when he was done with his workout—which might be next week, since all this straining and sweating hadn’t managed to purge his convoluted feelings for Aubrey from his system.

  “So, how come we’ve never met this friend?” Lori asked.

  “Craig? He’s a cop, that’s why. He can’t hang out with bounty hunters. Not good for his reputation.”

  “He sounds cute over the phone.”

  “How can anyone ‘sound cute’?”

  “So, is he?”

  Beau rolled his eyes. “He’s a doll. A real dreamboat.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Lori, we’ve been over this. Guys don’t think other guys are cute. But Craig Cartwright doesn’t lack for female companionship, if that’s what you mean. Why, you looking for some action?”

  “Not me. I’ve given up on men. Once they find out what I do for a living they’re either intimidated as hell, in which case, who needs ’em, or they want me to quit immediately and get a job as a secretary because they can’t stand worrying about me. But I have single friends.”

  “Hmph, you’ve never introduced them to me.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to my friends.”

  “Ouch, Lori. Kick a man when he’s down.”

  But she was giggling. “Call Craig back. And then let me talk to him.”

  “You’re a piece of work.” But he dried the sweat off his face and hands, then sat down at one of the empty desks and dialed Craig’s cell number.

  “I’m not sure I can help,” Beau said as soon as he had Craig on the line.

  “I just need your gut instinct. What do you think Cory might have done with the rest of the ransom money?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. He could have left it with a friend. He could have buried it. Or maybe it’s in the white Firebird. I understand Lyle thinks I fabricated that car.”

  “Not anymore. It was reported stolen this morning. We found it abandoned in a field, wiped clean. And no money in it.”

  “Well, hallelujah.”

  “It just seems a little strange, that’s all. Cory claims there was never a million dollars in the briefcase, that it was only thirteen thousand, but he was in a hurry and didn’t check.”

  “Wait a minute, Craig. He did check. Before he turned over the baby, David opened the briefcase for him to verify that the money was there.”

  “Did he count it?”

  “No. But how could he mistake thirteen thousand dollars for a million? He’s a drug dealer, not some clueless kid.”

  They were both silent for a few moments.

  “Thirteen thousand?” Beau asked, just to be sure.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ah, hell. That’s exactly how much Patti owed Cory. That’s why he was threatening her, why he probably killed her. For thirteen thousand dollars. How pathetic.”

  Another silence.

  “Cory knew,” Beau finally said. “He knew exactly how much money David was giving him. Cory wanted to collect that million-dollar reward, but he couldn’t, not without implicating himself in Patti’s murder.”

  “So he worked some kind of deal with David Clarendon?”

  “Exactly.” Beau was getting excited as the implications mushroomed inside his head. “David needed money. He apparently embezzled from the law firm, or was involved in some sort of financial malfeasance.”

  “So he got cash for the reward money from the bank,” Craig said, obviously on the same page as Beau, “gave a small portion to Cory—”

  “—and paid back the money he stole from the firm, probably managing to keep a nice chunk for his other debts. That little scumbag!”

  “Wait a minute. Before we get carried away…”

  “What? It’s the perfect answer to the mystery.”

  “Why would Cory settle for so little? There was no reason for him to work a deal with David for a paltry thirteen thousand. He could have found someone unconnected with the case who could claim they’d found Sara in a trash can, collect the million-dollar reward, and split it with him.”

  “Unless…” Beau’s mind worked furiously. “Unless David was calling the shots.”

  “He had something on Cory, some leverage,” Craig added.

  Beau snapped his fingers. “He knew Cory killed Patti. May have even put him up to it.”

  “Why would he want to kill his sister?”

  “To get control of Sara’s trust fund. He was sore because the old man had cut him out of the will.”

  “But didn’t you tell me Aubrey was named Sara’s trustee?”

  Aubrey. Oh, hell. Oh, hell. “I have to go get Aubrey out of there,” he said urgently. “She could still be in danger. She’s the only person left standing in the way of David getting control of the family fortune. David was involved in one murder. He might not stop there.”

  “I’ll get a team up to speed and be right behind you. Don’t do anything crazy. Just go in easy, make sure she’s safe.” Craig apparently knew Beau well enough not to order him to wait.

  Beau hung up the phone, grabbed his car keys from the desk where he’d left them, and walked out of First Strike.

  AUBREY HAD what she could only call a stress hangover the next day. Fortunately, Sara had slept through the night, and so had Aubrey—the deepest, most profound sleep she’d had in days. But she hadn’t awakened feeling refreshed. She’d felt leaden, like she’d swallowed a jar full of fishing weights, or her brain had magically turned into a barbell overnight.

  Sluggish and puffy, she took a warm shower, then turned on the cold water and tried to snap herself out of it. Sara was safe! She should be dancing with joy.

  But she wasn’t. She’d realized she was in love with Beau, only to drive him away with her suspicions—totally unfounded, she learned at breakfast, because the white Firebird had been discovered. She also had to contend with the unexpected hostility from David, and the very real possibility that her cousin would take Sara away from her.

  It was hard to feel cheerful under those circumstances.

  At least Sara woke up cheerful. She babbled and cooed all through breakfast, banging a wooden spoon on the old high chair Beronica ha
d loaned them, and she ate her mushed-up eggs like a linebacker.

  Wayne wasn’t at the breakfast table with them. Yesterday had taken its toll on him, and he’d told Beronica he wasn’t feeling well enough to come downstairs. Mary arrived while they were eating.

  David left for the office after breakfast. Of course, he’d probably neglected a lot of work over the past few days, but Aubrey felt he could have at least checked on his father before cutting out. Then she reminded herself to go easy on David. Just because she disagreed with him over Sara’s custody didn’t mean she should assign nefarious motivations to his every action. He’d been caring for Wayne for months, now, a responsibility that had its own stresses and strains.

  Aubrey helped Beronica clean up the kitchen. She wasn’t used to having servants wait on her, and it bothered her. She didn’t really want Sara to grow up that way, either. She wanted the child to learn to take care of herself—cook, clean, do laundry. Otherwise she’d end up as clueless as Patti when she grew up.

  The rest of the house was still a wreck. Aubrey knew Beronica was supposed to leave at noon today for her regular day-and-a-half off, and she probably wouldn’t want to leave the house less than tidy. So Aubrey pitched in there, too, though Beronica told her it wasn’t necessary.

  There were dirty glasses, cocktail plates, forks and napkins all over the downstairs, littering every surface. Aubrey started by picking those up and taking them to the kitchen.

  Next she went around collecting literally dozens of sterling coasters. “Where do these go?” she asked Beronica.

  “There.” Beronica pointed to a side table in the living room. Aubrey opened the drawer and found that same baby toy, the green plastic key chain, peeking out.

  “Oh, Beronica, here. I found this under the sofa. It’s Carlos’s, yes?”

  Beronica stared at the toy a few moments, a puzzled look on her face. “No, I never saw it. Oh, maybe it belong to Sara?”

  “No, it’s been here a few days.”

  Beronica nodded. “Sí, she maybe forget it when she visit another time.”

  “But she never—” Aubrey stopped herself. Surely this was just a case of miscommunication because of the language barrier. “Did you see Sara here another time?”

  Beronica nodded. “She come with her mama. Last Monday, yo creo. I see picture of Patti on the television.”

  “Patti and Sara came here? Last Monday?” Aubrey asked again, just to be sure. That was the day Patti had died and Sara had disappeared.

  “Si. Señor David talk to her, long time, I think.”

  Aubrey’s heart pounded. Why had David lied about that? And what else had he lied about? “Beronica, this is muy importante. Did David leave the house that day? After Patti’s visit?” Aubrey was ashamed at what she was thinking. David might be dishonest, but surely he couldn’t be involved in murdering his own sister.

  Beronica took a moment to think. Then she shook her head decisively. “No. He stay with his papa, and he work in la oficina.” She pointed upstairs, toward the room David had converted to a home office.

  Aubrey took a deep breath and allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Still, why had he lied? Had he been afraid the police would suspect—but no, he’d lied long before anyone knew Patti was dead.

  Unless he’d known.

  A chill wiggled up her spine.

  Beronica checked her watch, then returned to polishing the furniture with renewed vigor, apparently assuming the discussion was over.

  Had the police never questioned Beronica? No one in the family had been considered a serious suspect, but in any investigation of foul play, the family had to be ruled out. Any competent detective would have at least talked briefly with the servants. But competent was the operative word here. She already knew Lyle was lazy and not that bright.

  Aubrey was torn about what to do with this new information. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to call Beau. He would understand the significance. He would know what to do. But she couldn’t call him now, not after the way they’d parted last night. He probably never wanted to talk to her again.

  Shortly before noon, Beronica left for her day off. Aubrey played with Sara, but her mind churned with scenarios. Maybe she should simply confront David with the lie. That might be the best option. He would probably have a perfectly convincing explanation for why he’d lied, though she didn’t know what that could be.

  Mary came downstairs looking solemn. “Is David here?” she asked.

  “No, he went to the office. Is anything wrong?”

  “Your uncle’s not doing well. He’s in a lot of pain. I’m afraid this ordeal with his daughter and granddaughter has sapped what little strength he had left. His vital signs are erratic.”

  “Can you give him something for the pain?” Aubrey asked, alarmed.

  “Yes, but he doesn’t want me to give him any morphine. It knocks him out, and he’s afraid he won’t wake up again. Frankly, he might be right. I don’t want to upset anyone unnecessarily, but I’ve been doing this a long time. Typically a patient rallies briefly, then there’s a fast downhill slide.”

  “And yesterday was his rally.” Damn. This really wasn’t fair. Wayne was just getting to know his granddaughter. It was too soon. “I’ll call David.”

  David was “unavailable,” but she left a message that he needed to come home right away. Then she took Sara upstairs to see Wayne.

  He looked worse than ever. His complexion was gray, his eyes sunken, his hands positively skeletal. She pasted on a smile. “Mary says you’re not feeling so hot today.”

  His eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile of his own. “That’s a bit of an understatement.” His voice was weak and thready, his breath rapid and shallow. He looked at Mary, who had followed Aubrey back to the sickroom. “Help me sit up.”

  Mary expertly lifted Wayne until he was almost sitting up. She put an extra pillow behind his back. “Would you like me to leave you all alone for a while? Can I get you anything?”

  “You don’t happen to have one of those KitKat bars handy, do you? I have a craving.”

  She smiled. “If that’s what you want, I’ll run to the store and get one.” She looked to Aubrey. “Is that okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Wayne smiled weakly. “You’re a good nurse, Mary.”

  When they were alone, Aubrey set Sara in Wayne’s lap. She knew that was what he wanted.

  “I was holding on for her,” he said, stroking Sara’s silky blond hair. “Now that she’s safe, I’m not needed here.”

  “Don’t say that. Of course you’re needed. We wouldn’t know what to do if…”

  “Well, you’d better figure it out. I won’t make it another twenty-four hours.”

  Aubrey wanted to argue, but Wayne had a knowing look in his eye. He wasn’t just being melodramatic.

  “I wanted to say goodbye. And to apologize, for letting my feud with Patti get the better of me. I shouldn’t have been so proud. I should have tried—ah, but I guess everyone has regrets.”

  “Everyone,” she agreed, including herself in that pool.

  “David is going to fight you for Sara’s custody,” he continued. He seemed to be struggling through every sentence, and he had to pause and breathe after each one. “Hire Ron Beasley to represent you. He’s the best family law attorney I know.”

  “You want me to win? What you said last night—”

  “I thought about that last night. Hell, I didn’t do much else but think. Couldn’t sleep. I love you both, but you’re practically Sara’s mother already. Anyway, David only wants Sara so he can get hold of my money.” At Aubrey’s surprised expression, he added, “I talked to Jim. David’s been embezzling. No question.”

  “But you said David didn’t care about money.”

  “I said he had a strange attitude about money. He always acted as if there were an endless supply of it, which made him appear unconcerned. But he’s already burned his way through the two million dollars hi
s grandfather left him, and possibly a good chunk of the firm’s assets as well.”

  “Oh, my God. What are we going to do?”

  “Not we, you. I don’t have the strength to confront him. That’s your job.”

  The doorbell rang. Aubrey stood, relieved to pause this conversation. It was a lot to absorb. “I should get that. Beronica’s not here.” She didn’t want to fight David. She didn’t want any more evidence that he was desperate about money. Because that meant she had to confront the possibility he’d been involved in Patti’s death—or that he knew something about the missing ransom money, she thought suddenly. “I’ll be right back.”

  The doorbell chimed three more times before she got downstairs. Someone was awfully impatient. Still a little jumpy from the last few days, she peeked through the peephole. And there was Beau, standing on the porch.

  She’d never been so happy to see him.

  She swung the door open. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” he said in a hushed voice. “Is David here?”

  “No, he’s at work. What’s going on?”

  “I think you and Sara may be in danger here. Wayne, too.”

  “Wayne’s dying,” she said bluntly. “The hospice nurse says he only has a few hours.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beau said as he stepped inside, the sentiment obviously genuine. “But he might not be the only one. I believe David was involved in Sara’s disappearance. He and Cory were in cahoots, somehow. Cory murdered Patti and took Sara. Then he and David worked some kind of deal. I’m sorry,” Beau said again. “I know you probably don’t believe me. I know how hard it is for you to believe that someone you love, someone you’re related to, could do something so awful. But you have to believe me. You’re in danger.”

  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

  “What?” Clearly he’d been prepared for a different response from her.