Two Lethal Lies

by Annie Solomon

  “Mind if I talk to some of the hotel staff?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Roger didn’t expect to find much but was surprised when he spoke to one of the concierges, who told him about an envelope Dutch had left.

  “Who picked it up?”

  “A woman,” the concierge said. “In a suit. Light brown hair. She seemed a little, well, surprised. Like she wasn’t expecting it, though she said she was.”

  “Do you know what was in the envelope?”

  “I got the impression from both Mr. Hanover and the woman that it was something about a meeting.”

  “And when was this?”

  “Yesterday. I’d say around two.”

  “And you’re sure Mr. Hanover didn’t say where he was going?”

  “Only that he had a car take them to the airport. I believe he had a jet waiting for him.”

  Roger thanked the man and got the number for the airport. If Dutch flew out of Chicago, he would have had to file a flight plan. Easy enough to find out where. And if he could find out, so could Mitch.

  Roger scowled, waiting for Flight Service Station to pick up. If he were Dutch, the last thing he’d do would be to pose for the press. And if he posed for the press, he’d never divulge his whereabouts. It was like daring Mitch to find them.

  But maybe that was the point. Dutch wanted his brother caught. What better way than to hold out as bait the child Mitch had raised?

  It took FSS a few minutes to look up the flight plan and for Roger to check out a map of Florida. What was in Orlando that would take Dutch there so soon after winning back his long-lost daughter?

  On his way to the airport, he called Abe Marfield in Crossroads. “Can you think of any reason why Dutch Hanover would take Julia to Florida, specifically Orlando?”

  “Not for sure,” Abe said, “but that’s where the Blunts are.”

  “The Blunts?”

  “Tommy, Bitsy, and their daughter, Sara Jean. You remember—it was in the reports. Mitch fished Sara Jean out of the river after she fell in. They gave Mitch a place to stay, and I understand the two girls became friends. Maybe Dutch is taking Julia there to spend time with Sara Jean.”

  Roger stared out the car window as the city passed around him. “You have kids, don’t you, Chief?”

  “Three boys, all on their own now. Good kids.”

  “I’ve got one of each—a boy and a girl. Also good kids. Would you say Julia is a good kid?”

  “Don’t know her well, but from what I and others observed, I’d say yes.”

  “And if something happened to your boys, say, one of them was kidnapped and you didn’t see him for years, and then suddenly—poof—he’s returned to you, what’s the first thing you’d do?”

  “Don’t know exactly,” he said slowly. “Take him home, I guess. Make him feel safe.”

  “You wouldn’t go gallivanting to a ritzy Chicago hotel and have your picture taken by the press?”

  “The hotel, maybe. If I could afford it. The press? No, sir. Not on your life.”

  “And what about Disney World? That be your choice?”

  “No, I’d want to get him out of the public eye and someplace secure and safe, where he could settle in and get to know us again.”

  “So why is Dutch Hanover dragging that child all over the country?”

  “The rich are different.”

  “Not that different.”

  “What are you thinking? That he wants everyone to know where he is?”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Just Mitch.”

  “For all the trouble he’s gone to over the years, Dutch Hanover seems more concerned about luring in his brother than he is about the welfare of the child he’s been so desperate to find.”

  There was a small silence. Roger hadn’t seen Dutch Hanover since the original murder investigation, but he was a hard man to forget. When he had walked into New York’s FBI headquarters, a hush had fallen over the office. For a second or two, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare. He was rich, he was famous, and he was ridiculously good-looking. He could smile even the toughest agents into submission. A couple of them made excuses to talk to him and murmur expressions of sympathy. One, a woman with years of experience, even asked if he’d like coffee. She never asked Roger if he wanted coffee. In fact, if he had asked her to get him a cup, she’d have told him to fuck off in a lot more colorful language.

  Dutch had been gracious about the fawning, almost as though he expected it. Even during this awful crisis, he’d joke with the small crowd that inevitably gathered around him, charming them all.

  But something else lay beneath Dutch’s graceful exterior. Roger never figured it out, and his concerns were chalked up to the tension over his lack of progress on the case. And then, of course, he was shipped off to Iowa.

  But whatever had bothered him back then was resurfacing now. Maybe it was just that he didn’t trust good-looking people. The rest of us tripped over ourselves to do things for them, and they never had to fight for anything. Life was too easy for them.

  “Did you ever see the crime scene photos of Alicia Ruiz’s murder?” Roger asked Abe.

  “NYPD faxed them over to me.”

  “What do you make of that letter carved into her forehead?”

  “The A? It’s her name—Alicia.”

  “You ever read The Scarlet Letter?”

  “In high school, way back in the day. Don’t think I paid much attention, though. What’s it got to do with the Ruiz case?”

  “A for ‘Adultery.’ That’s the scarlet letter in the book. And that’s what closed the case on Mitch. That A. It gave substance to the motive. Jealousy.”

  “Well, he’s cooled down since then. Never flew off the handle here, didn’t romance the ladies, never seemed the possessive type. Except when it came to Julia.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Always comes down to the kid, doesn’t it?”

  They were pulling into the airport drive. “How’s that deputy of yours?”

  “Nate? Oh, he’s hanging in there. Just took him off the critical list.”

  “Glad to hear it.” They disconnected, and Roger got out of the car.

  Something about that A had always bothered him.

  He just didn’t know what.

  35

  Julia stared at the computer screen. She’d never had her own computer before, and ever since her dad—since Dutch—bought it for her, she’d been scouring the Net for news of Mitch… and other things.

  Dutch thought she was playing some stupid Barbie dress-up game, and she’d decided to let him go on thinking that. He hadn’t hit her again, and though neither of them ever mentioned it, she hadn’t forgotten.

  She hadn’t forgotten anything—including what Dutch or Mitch had done. Not the guards posted everywhere or the questions she’d answered over and over. Like she was some expert on her dad.

  Her uncle.

  Her… whatever.

  Besides, the Mitch she knew would never have run away. Not without her.

  Turns out, ha-ha, she didn’t know Mitch at all, did she? So how was she supposed to know where he was? She was just a kid. No one told her anything.

  Which is why the computer was so cool.

  Outside her room, someone fumbled with the doorknob. Quickly, she pulled up the Barbie screen.

  “Julia! Open this door!” Dutch.

  “Just a minute.” Her cover in place, she didn’t need more time but pretended anyway. Then she waited for the explosion. One, two…

  “Not in a minute. Right now!”

  Right on time.

  She opened the door. “Okay, okay.”

  Dutch’s handsome face was mad and glaring. “I told you not to lock this door.”

  She put on that goody-goody expression he liked so much. “A lady needs her privacy,” she reminded him.

  He smoothed out the frown as if it had never been there, and she sprawled back in her chair in front of the
laptop. He always did that—went from boiling to… well, to nothing. To a scary kind of calm, like those wax people in a museum where Mitch had once taken her. When Mitch was mad at her, it took him, like, a whole day to get over it. Sometimes she even had to crawl. But Dutch… Sometimes she annoyed him just to see if he could stay mad. He never did.

  Did that make him better than Mitch, or just strange?

  As if to prove it one way or the other, he braced himself on her shoulders, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. He did that a lot—touching her, kissing her. She couldn’t decide if it gave her the creeps or if she just wasn’t used to it. Mitch chucked her on the chin and ruffled her hair, but he wasn’t big on all the kissy-kissy stuff.

  “Your friend is in the lobby,” Dutch said.

  She jumped up, as much to get away from him as from excitement. Ever since he’d told her Sara Jean was coming, Julia had been planning. Now that she was here, a shot of nerves suddenly rocked Julia.

  “Shall I have her come up?” Dutch asked.

  Why did he always talk like he walked out of a cardboard-doll book?

  “Or I could just meet her down there.” They’d been in Florida how many days now and the closest she’d been to Disney World was the hotel suite.

  “I think it would be better if you played up here. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

  Right. Like the lobby was some kind of jungle. Truth was, he didn’t want her to go anywhere unless he was with her. Or one of the guards. She should be used to that by now—Mitch was always watching out for her. But Mitch did things with her. Fun things. Dutch’s idea of fun was room service.

  How was she ever going to get away from him if he didn’t take his eyes off her?

  “You could come, too,” she said hopefully.

  “Far easier for her to come up, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged, not hiding her disappointment. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Don’t pout, Julia. It’s so unattractive in a woman.”

  She flounced over to one of the couches and threw herself down. He was always criticizing her.

  “Shall I cancel the visit?” Dutch’s voice was so quiet and calm it gave her the shudders. She’d learned not to ignore that tone. She sat up and took the frown off her face, and he smiled that movie-star smile.

  “That’s better.”

  While she waited for Sara Jean, she thought about what she’d learned from her Net search. Mitch had escaped and there were cops all over looking for him. A “manhunt,” one article called it. She pictured slathering dogs and nasty men with shotguns.

  She knew she shouldn’t, but she hoped they never found him.

  A knock on the door had her jumping up again. She ran to answer it, but Dutch got there first.

  “Mr. Hanover?” Bitsy Blunt’s voice cut through the initial awkwardness. “My goodness, here we are.”

  Dutch stepped aside, and Sara Jean and her parents came in.

  “Well, look at you,” Bitsy said to Julia. She held out her arms for a hug. Julia was enveloped, and for the first time in an eternity, she felt normal. Then Bitsy let her go, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t you look a picture,” she said. “Doesn’t she look sweet, Tommy?”

  Behind her mother’s back, Sara Jean rolled her eyes.

  “You look very pretty,” Tommy Blunt said.

  “It’s the dress,” Julia said, feeling awkward enough in the fluffy thing.

  “I think a woman should look like a woman,” Dutch said, waving them in.

  The adults sat on the couch, and Julia dragged Sara Jean into her bedroom.

  Sara Jean looked the same—tall and lanky with her red hair all scraggled up. Lucky her, she was wearing shorts and flip-flops. She sat on the bed and examined the room. “This is amazing.”

  Julia straddled the chair by the desk so she was facing the bed. “It’s okay.”

  “We’re not even staying at the park.”

  “Well, I haven’t been inside it yet.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “How come?”

  Julia shrugged.

  “What’s he like?” Sara Jean asked, gesturing with her head toward the door and the adults behind it.

  “Weird.”

  “My mom says he’s rich.”

  “He’s still weird.”

  “She says you’ll be rich, too.”

  “I guess.” Right now, she hardly had pocket money. Well, except for what she’d lifted, bit by bit, from Dutch’s wallet, and that she needed for later. “He has this thing about arms.” She held out her bare arms in the sleeveless dress. “Fine in the summer, but it was freezing in Chicago.”

  Sara Jean wriggled onto her stomach, her feet on the pillows, her head propped in her hands. “What about Mitch?”

  She frowned. “What about him?”

  “Do you miss him?”

  She’d rather be fried in Crisco than admit it. Especially since he’d left her here. “Why should I?”

  “Think he did it? My mom says he must have because he has you.”

  “Well, at least he’s not weird.”

  “Killing someone and stealing their baby—that’s pretty weird.”

  Julia couldn’t argue that, and Sara Jean didn’t seem to expect her to.

  “Your dad,” she said. “I mean your real one—he is gorgeous. My mom says you have his eyes. She says you’ll be gorgeous, too. She never says that about me.”

  “Mitch did. He likes red hair.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me. He was talking about Neesy, but I could tell he meant it in general.”

  “He was cool.”

  Julia didn’t want to agree, but she didn’t want to disagree, either, so she said nothing. They drifted into silence. Sara Jean began waving her feet in the air. Her flip-flops came off. One slipped onto the floor. “What do you want to do?” she said at last.

  Julia had it all planned out, but now that the moment had come, she was scared. “I don’t know,” she said, prolonging the moment. “Want to play poker?”

  “Poker? That’s gambling. I’m not supposed to. Daddy says it’s Satan’s tool.”

  “Since when do you listen to your father? Besides, we don’t believe in Satan.”

  “I don’t know how to play.”

  “Me neither. But I downloaded a game that teaches it.”

  Sara Jean crawled off the bed and wandered over to the desk. “When did you get the computer?”

  “Dutch bought it when we got here.”

  “See? Rich, rich, rich. We could still trade places, you know. I wouldn’t mind being rich.”

  “You’d have to wear sleeveless dresses all the time.”

  “I guess it would be okay if I could shop in New York. That is where you’re going to live?”

  “I don’t know. Dutch doesn’t talk about it.”

  “You haven’t asked?”

  “Don’t have to.” Julia’s heart began thumping. She lowered her voice. “I’m running away.”

  Sara Jean’s eyes widened. “You are not.”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve got it all planned out, too.” She turned around to face the computer. Sara Jean dragged a chair over.

  “Check this out. Did you know there’s a whole, like, city underneath Disney World? It’s how Mickey and Goofy get where they’re supposed to be.” She showed Sara Jean what she’d found.

  “But how do you get down there?” Sara Jean asked.

  “There’s doors all over the place. Look.” She clicked over to a video on YouTube.

  As the piece played, Sara Jean gasped, covered her mouth, and then started giggling.

  “Shhh,” Julia said, and started giggling herself.

  They both checked to make sure the door was closed.

  “I can’t believe you,” Sara Jean whispered.

  “It’ll work. You just sneak off, open one door, and disappear into the tunnels. When you pop up, it’s miles away and no one knows where.”

  “But what about food and stuff?
”

  “What good is having a rich father if you don’t have money?”

  Sara Jean’s eyes widened. “He gives you money? How much?”

  “I wouldn’t say he gives it to me. At least, not on purpose.”

  “You stole it?”

  “You said it’ll all be mine someday. I’m just getting a head start.”

  “Oh, my God, you are so bad. You know they’ll find you.” She covered her ears. “Don’t tell me any more. They’ll torture me and I’m not good with pain. I’ll tell everything.”

  “Not if you come, too.”

  “What?”

  Julia yanked Sara Jean’s hands down. “Not if you come, too.” She repeated it a little slower and more emphatically.

  Their gazes locked.

  “I couldn’t,” Sara Jean said.

  “Yes, you could.”

  She covered her mouth again. Then, scrunching her shoulders and leaning close to Julia, she said, “I could, couldn’t I?”

  “But first we have to get into the park.”

  It took Julia two days to get Dutch to agree to a trip to Disney World. First he refused because he didn’t want to go.

  “I’d rather be dead,” was how he put it.

  “Oh, you don’t have to go,” Julia assured him. “I can go with Sara Jean and her parents.”

  But he managed to find reasons against that idea, too.

  He gave in only after Bitsy made two phone calls and implied it was strange that he’d taken Julia to Disney World but she’d hardly seen anything except the hotel.

  In between asking herself and having Bitsy call and ask, Julia collected gear. She’d managed to hang on to her backpack, even though Dutch had tried several times to get rid of it. But she didn’t feel safe without it. All her life she and Mitch had a just-in-case bag packed and ready to go. It felt wrong not to have one now.

  By the time permission for the trip was given and arrangements made, she’d hoarded bottles of water and PowerBars from the vending machines and had stuffed in a change of clothes. After more Net research, she added a book of matches she found on the floor. You never knew when you might need to start a fire. One of the packages Dutch had bought her came wrapped in pretty red string, and she kept it for emergencies. A knife from room service would be handy, and because it might rain, she collected every plastic bag she could find. Along with the shampoo and soap the hotel provided was a small sewing kit, and she took that, too. In case she or Sara Jean got hurt and needed stitching. And at the last minute, she threw in the lotion, too. It smelled nice and reminded her of Neesy. She and Sara Jean IM’d like crazy; Sara Jean was going to bring crackers she’d been stealing from restaurants.