Changing Tides

by Veronica Mixon

  I leaned my head against the seat rest. I didn’t have the luxury of giving into panic. Owen was with Mom; I had to take comfort that she’d protect him with her life. My job was to focus on their rescue.

  There were so many places Joseph could hide them. In state, out of state. Where would he take them?

  Owen’s iPad.

  iPads had GPS locators. I kept a list of serial numbers for our electronics. The authorities would know how to access the coordinates. I’d asked Stanley to check Owen’s bedroom for the iPad and his Ranger’s cap. But I’d hung up before he’d answered my question.

  Les pulled alongside the Fusion, and I hurriedly sent my uncle a text.

  —Did u find Owen’s iPad?—

  I unlocked my car and headed north for Spartina.

  Rain rapped on the car’s roof like the restless drum of fingers on a tabletop. A beep noted an incoming message, but it was from Jennifer, not Stanley. I moved to the right lane, slowed, and read her text.

  —J & K married 1988—

  Jacob was three years younger than me. Jacob would have been three when Joseph married Kathleen.

  A picture of Owen at three-years flashed in my mind. We were in the middle of the mall, on the floor playing with a litter of rescue puppies. Owen begged to take one home. I should’ve gotten him the puppy. A boy should have a dog. And a horse. A dog and a horse.

  I read the rest of Jennifer’s text.

  —J’s 1st wife—Pia Marie Cabral Quintino, died 1986—

  “Cabral?” Joseph had been married to a Cabral. Jacob had been a Cabral.

  Traffic stalled and a line of cars as far as I could see crept like maple sap tapped two weeks early—stop, start, stop, start. The wind began in earnest, blowing so fast and furious the Fusion rocked in place. I called Stanley.

  “Any news from the FBI?” he asked.

  “Not yet. Did you find Owen’s iPad?”

  “On his nightstand. But I couldn’t find his Ranger’s cap.”

  My body turned to cement, and I sank feet first into a bottomless chasm. I had no way to find Owen. I hung up.

  My despair was like a trough on the ocean’s floor, obscure, black and silent and held me in place. You can’t quit, Kate. The voice in my head warned. Owen needs you.

  I dragged my mind out of the darkness. I had to trust the FBI had the human resources to find my baby. They’d root out the snitch on Parsi’s team and force him to talk. The traitor would lead us to Joseph, and ultimately to Owen and Mom. I had to get to Spartina.

  An ambulance drove down the median and circumvented the stalled traffic. I pulled out, ignored the horns blaring, and followed the whirling lights. A mile down the road the ambulance stopped. An officer directing traffic stepped to my car, peered in my window, and favored me with a chastising frown. He directed me to park behind a black SUV.

  Don’t argue. Take the ticket and go.

  A group of four police officers huddled next to the SUV’s tailgate, then parted.

  Erica Sanchez stepped forward.

  She stood in the beam of my headlights, hands on her hips, feet spread. Cedar’s warning swam in my head—Erica’s gunning for an indictment. She walked to the car, tapped the window, and motioned for me to step out.

  I climbed out of the Fusion. Sheets of rain poured from the sky and drenched my clothes and shoes. I pushed dripping hair from my face and stared into Erica’s brown eyes, caverns, empty of warmth or concern or human kindness.

  “We have to go to Spartina,” I said. “Joseph Lafferty’s kidnapped Owen.”

  Erica gripped my forearm and pulled me toward her SUV. “You’re wanted for questioning.”

  I jerked my arm away. “After we find Owen and Mom, I’ll go wherever you say.”

  “I don’t make deals.” Erica removed handcuffs from her belt. The four police officers circled us.

  My heart squeezed. I couldn’t fight Erica and four cops. “I demand to speak with Marshal Nathan Parsi.”

  “And Marshal Nathan Parsi wants to talk to you.” Erica snapped the cuffs over my wrists. “But it doesn’t matter whose shoulder you cry on, Katie. You’re going to jail.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nathan carried two cups into Spartina’s library. An oversized mug of black coffee strong enough to raise his pulse, and a cup of tea from a box with calming splashed across the front. He set the tea in front of Kate.

  Exhaustion rolled off her like rain from a gutter. Her face, swollen and puffy, matched her voice, raw and hoarse, as if she’d spent the entire trip from Florida sobbing.

  Kate showed clear visceral signs of desperation, which could be attributed to being handcuffed and locked in a car with Erica for the past two hours.

  Erica, aloof and uncharacteristically quiet since arriving, switched on the weather channel, muted the sound and stood with her back to Kate.

  He had a better chance of Kate opening up without Erica hovering and ready to swoop at the slightest provocation. Nathan placed his hand on Erica’s shoulder. “I’d like to talk to Kate alone.”

  Erica nodded.

  “I want her to stay.”

  Nathan turned to Kate, certain he’d misunderstood. If Erica was right and Kate’s visceral signs were from facing her comeuppance for a crime-ridden life, perp stress and not shock, then why would she ask for her champion nemesis to remain at her side?

  “No matter what’s between us, Erica loves Owen. She’d never betray Owen. She’s the only one on your team that I trust isn’t working for the Cabrals.” Kate’s face captured the muddled consternation of a soldier trapped behind enemy lines. “She stays or I have nothing to say.”

  Erica shrugged, a poster child for unimpressed dispassion. The sound of wind whistling and whipping across the gardens filled the room. Nathan nodded his approval and Erica turned back to the television. “They’ve downgraded the hurricane to a tropical storm, but it’s headed this way.”

  He sat in the chair across from Kate and shot off a quick text to Jonathan Wright asking for an updated ETA. He’d called in a favor and pressed his friend in the Georgia Bureau of Investigation to open a kidnapping investigation. No easy task since the alleged abduction happened across state lines, and responding officers determined the evidence pointed to a contrived disappearance, presumably orchestrated by Kate.

  He sipped his coffee and studied Kate studying Erica. Kate’s eyes held the remnants of defeat, the injured gaze of the wounded.

  “You have the original note you claim was left in Ben Snider’s car?” he asked.

  She extracted her wallet from her purse, removed a slip of green ruled paper, and passed it to him.

  He read the note. “We need to make a list of people you believe have reason to abduct your family.”

  Kate pressed her fingers against her eyelids. “How many times do I have to say it? Joseph Lafferty abducted Owen and Mom. He’s your drug kingpin.” Her voice gained strength as she made her case. “He laundered millions of dollars through my company. Joseph abducted Owen to keep me from going to the police. And someone on your team works for Joseph.”

  Erica huffed, but she was smart enough to keep her back to Nathan.

  Kate’s gaze lingered on Erica, then settled back on Nathan. “Joseph’s the only possibility.”

  “GBI’s going to push for a list of other prospects,” Nathan said.

  “Only if they open a file,” Erica chewed the words, but even with her back turned the meaning was clear.

  Kate leaned across the table and grabbed Nathan’s hand. “You have to convince them. Your agent, the one that reports to Joseph, he’ll know how to contact him. That’s who told Joseph Owen was with Mom on Talbot Island.”

  Erica met Nathan’s gaze and rolled her eyes.

  Wind gusts spit hail against the glass panes like BBs in rat-ta-tat-tat succession. A forecaster reported Hurricane Sebastian, now a category three hurricane, hugged the Atlantic Coastline gaining strength.

  Erica turned to Kate. “Does yo
ur generator power the guest house?”

  Kate’s forehead creased. “You still have men here?”

  “Six, plus Nathan and me,” Erica said.

  “You said the drug ring left the island. Why are your men still here?”

  Nathan tapped the green paper. “If this threat is from the Cabrals, you’ll be glad our team’s at Spartina sitting on ready.”

  Kate ran her hands over her forearms, her favorite self-soothing gesture. “During the ride here, Erica said the police believe my mother and Owen left by boat. Our company warehouses have access to water, and Joseph knows the terrain better than anyone.”

  “We’ve checked the warehouses.” Nathan kept his voice level, studied Kate’s face. “Joseph’s house in Savannah, and his son’s place in Brunswick.”

  “Yeah,” Erica said. “Even if we’re manipulated and jerked around, we do our job.”

  Kate’s head whipped in Erica’s direction. She rose from her seat, her jaw set, her body humming with fury. She walked toward Erica. “I’ve had enough of your patronizing crap. Either take this serious or leave.”

  “Me, take it serious?” Erica met her halfway and shoved a finger in Kate’s chest. “You didn’t bother to go to the abduction site and talk to the police. Cut the crap about who’s taking it seriously.”

  Kate swatted away Erica’s hand. “I couldn’t go to my uncle’s.” Her voice reverberated off the ceiling. “Joseph’s message said to go to Spartina.”

  “You’re pandering for sympathy. This hoax won’t stand up,” Erica said. “You’re going down for murder, and racketeering. You’ll be behind bars for the rest of your natural life. Have you considered what your life of crime will cost Owen?”

  “Erica, I haven’t broken the law.”

  “When the GBI gets here, they’ll draw the same conclusions we have. Roslyn and Owen are tucked away in a safe hidey-hole.” She shot Kate a knowing smirk. “We know about the California house.”

  Nathan prayed for enough strength to keep his hands from wrapping around Erica’s skinny little neck. His phone vibrated with a message. “Weather’s delayed the GBI. Six o’clock is the new estimate.”

  “Five more hours? Why can’t we answer their questions by phone?” Kate’s desperation didn’t seem to touch Erica. She believed Kate was hiding her family, but Nathan was certain, down to his core, that Kate was petrified for her son’s safety.

  “You’re lucky Nathan has friends,” Erica said. “Otherwise the GBI wouldn’t waste their time making the drive from Atlanta.”

  “Stop it, Erica.” Kate slid into a chair and rocked. “I’m begging you. Joseph kidnapped Owen and Mom. You have to believe me.”

  “An underage minor walked away with his grandparent,” Erica said. “And when the police notified his mother of a possible abduction, she hangs up on the officer and heads in the opposite direction.”

  Kate continued to sway. Her soft sobs held the deep grief of defeat. All visceral reactions conducive to absolute loss and impossible to fake. She believed her son and mother had been abducted.

  Erica stood over Kate. “If you’d found that note with Calvin’s body, if the threat to Owen was real, you would’ve come to me. But you didn’t. No way, Katie, I don’t believe it.”

  Fire flashed in Kate’s eyes. “I didn’t believe you’d have an affair with my husband behind my back either. So I suggest you reconsider what’s believable.”

  Erica triple blinked but didn’t look away. “When I was involved with Adam, he wasn’t your husband.”

  Kate pushed out of her chair and lunged.

  Erica stumbled back, tripped over a chair leg, and fell. She popped to standing. Nathan figured Erica had underestimated Kate’s anger. Being bested by a civilian wouldn’t sit well.

  He rushed the pair, got in between and shoved them in opposite directions. “Enough.”

  Kate glared at Erica and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  “Be honest, Katie. Owen isn’t in any danger,” Erica said. “And while you’re soul-searching for the truth, admit you didn’t love Adam. You hadn’t cared who he was involved with for years.”

  Kate inhaled a deep breath. “You’re right. I didn’t love Adam anymore. But I loved you, Erica. And you betrayed our friendship.” She faced Nathan. “I’ll contact the FBI and convince them I’m telling the truth. You better pray I find my son and mother unhurt, or when I’m through neither of your careers will be worth saving.”

  “Calm down. I believe you.” Nathan gripped Kate’s forearm. Her body hummed beneath his fingers. “My contact at the GBI is Agent Jonathan Wright. I’ve made all the arrangements, and we’re ready for the kidnapper’s next move. Your phones are tapped, and your email accounts are being monitored—at least all the accounts we know about.”

  Nathan let go of her arm and grasped her shoulders. “In child abductions, a parent’s always the first suspect. You have to be ruled out. This conversation was going to happen whether it was me, Agent Wright, or the FBI. You’ll answer questions, the same ones, over and over until we find your family.”

  Kate’s lovely eyes, the color of green jade, glistened. She’d dropped weight in the past four days, and her features appeared sculpted, as if someone had carved her face with a keen and clever blade. Her chiseled cheeks gave her an intriguingly dangerous look, her eyes slightly sunken appeared fearless and daunting. Her eyes. He remembered those eyes.

  Recognition is a convoluted phenomenon. A nearly instantaneous connection of memories and perceptions. Variables that might never be replicated. A slight rotation of the head, a side view of a body, coupled with an expression. Even an instant later, it was almost impossible to pinpoint what triggered the click.

  Nathan fast forwarded through a slide show of photographs stored in his memory and pushed pause on a group shot of Juan Cabral taken in the mid-eighties. A critical clue in this case slipped cleanly into place.

  Then quick as a hissing snake Kate’s fingers coiled around his wrist and she flung his hand from her shoulder. “Gather your men, Marshal. I’m tired of playing hostess. I’m tired of your pretend game of cooperation. I’m tired of being your one and only suspect. If you were going to arrest me, you would have by now, but you haven’t. Get off my property.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Parsi clasped my forearms with a cast-iron grip. “Is this tantrum worth your son’s life?” Disgust covered his face.

  I shoved my palms against his chest.

  He pulled me within two inches of his body. “Do you realize you’ve just banished every available agent? There’s no one left to search for your family.”

  My outrage slipped away as quietly as a sun’s shadow. I stared into his chestnut eyes, and for an instant his expression conjured the image of a stalking cougar. The silence expanded between us, filled with my fears and his frustration.

  Parsi’s colorless lips pressed razor thin, but he dropped his hands. “Either I stay, and we work together, or you spend the night behind bars.”

  His voice held not one whiff of kindness. But inexplicably his presence centered me, and a piece of the boulder resting on my shoulders fell away. “I want you to stay. Please. Help me find Owen and Mom.”

  Rain poured from the sky as if God had opened heaven’s door to blow his wrath to earth.

  “If you want my help, first—” He held up a finger. “No holding back. No matter what I ask, I get complete honesty.”

  “Same goes.”

  He frowned. “I’ve always been honest with you.”

  “Really?” My questioning tone raised his brow. “What about the airboat. Owen and I were stalked across Barry Island by one of your men. You never once bothered to mention that fact. Why did you expect me to be honest and forthright when you weren’t?”

  “Okay.” His voice softened. “You’re right, I should’ve mentioned that the airboat was ours. But Johnston was trying to get you off the island before Cabral’s men showed up.” He ran his hand through his hair and inhaled a
breath. “Let’s start over. And this time we trust each other.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you’re a walking zombie, Kate. You’re no good to your son or me if you collapse.”

  A thunderous crack shook the house, then an earth-slamming thud. A tree limb the size of a small canoe landed on the patio, mere inches from the French door.

  Parsi remained focused on only me. He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “Eat. Drink.”

  My body exploded with heat. “You think I can eat? Owen could be hungry or cold. He must be scared to death.”

  “Kate, stop a minute and think. If you didn’t coordinate this disappearance, then your mother did.”

  “What are you talking about?” I stumbled backward. “My mother? Are you crazy?”

  “She had access to the kitchen.” Parsi stretched his words as if slowing them down would make the incredible more palatable.

  Indignation rode over my fear. “There’s no way my mother would put me through this nightmare.”

  “Traces of ketamine were in the coffee carafe and the Mountain Dew cans but in no other liquids in the kitchen. One of my agents had an affinity for gourmet coffee, the other Mountain Dew. How would an outsider know that? Your uncle was knocked out along with my men, so this wasn’t his rodeo.” He tilted my chin, forced our eyes to meet. “How well did your mother know Juan Cabral?”

  His quiet confidence was the catalyst behind the panic clawing up my spine. I stepped away from his touch. “Mom barely knew Juan Cabral. Hadn’t seen him in thirty years.”

  Parsi’s sigh exuded exhaustion. “She knows Cabral better than she admits.”

  My thoughts stalled, stuck on words I couldn’t reconcile. Could he be right? This wasn’t a real kidnapping? Please, God, let him be right.

  I bent over, tense as a coiled spring, then snapped upright and paced the room. “What reason would Mom have to run off with Owen unless someone forced her?”

  His eyes followed me, assessing, measuring. “There’s no evidence of physical coercion,” he said. “Two sets of footprints led away from the house and down to the beach. An adult print, women’s size six and a half. The other a child’s size nine. No indication of dragging or stumbling or resisting. No other footprints.” He grabbed his laptop and sat on the sofa. “And your mother tried to contact him.”