by Cindi Myers
“I don’t care about the fish shop,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have anyone to tell.”
“She’s okay.” Rand steered her to a chair along the back wall. “What’s in the report?”
“Drugs,” Carmen said. “Lots and lots of drugs. Milbanks had received a shipment of fish from the Gulf of Mexico that morning. One of the investigators cut open a big amberjack and it was full of balloons of heroin. Another contained a bag of cocaine.”
“So the local cops were right that the fish shop was just a front for drug smuggling?” Michael asked.
Carmen nodded. “It was a pretty slick operation, from what we can determine. Milbanks owned a fleet of fishing boats. They’d catch the fish, then load them up with drugs, put them on ice and fly them up here. He’d remove the drugs, load them on trucks to be distributed elsewhere, then sell the fish to local restaurants and individuals. He made money on both ventures and looked like a legitimate businessman.”
“He could be the guy we’ve been looking for,” Graham said. “The kingpin in charge of the increased activity in the region.”
“He had the money and the contacts,” Carmen said.
“That doesn’t mean Richard Prentice wasn’t involved,” Rand said. “The picture of him and Milbanks together proves they knew each other.”
“Maybe they were working together, or maybe the picture relates to something else,” Graham said. “We don’t know.”
“Whoever killed him left behind all those drugs?” Simon asked.
“Maybe they didn’t know about the drugs,” Carmen said. “Or they didn’t care.”
“Did the investigators find anything in the shop to connect Milbanks and Prentice?” Rand asked.
“Nothing,” Carmen said. “And nothing to tie Milbanks to Lauren Starling, either. We do think we know where the picture of Milbanks and Prentice together was taken, though.”
“Where?” Rand asked.
“Behind the shop,” Simon said. “The parking lot has a security camera trained near the door. The video analyst who studied the photograph recognized a pattern in the brick behind the men. She thinks the photograph is probably an enlarged frame from video taken by that camera.”
“Milbanks could have gotten the picture from his own security system,” Michael said. “Maybe that’s what he was giving to Lauren the day he met her at the motel.”
“But why give her something like that?” Simon asked.
“There’s some indication that Milbanks may have been preparing to leave the country,” Carmen said. “The investigators found airline tickets to the Cayman Islands in his desk drawer. He was supposed to fly out yesterday. We believe he may have planned to process this last shipment of drugs and fish, then get out of town before authorities caught up with him again. He probably has money stashed in accounts in the Caymans.”
“But someone murdered him before he could leave,” Rand said.
“Maybe he was killed because of the photograph,” Sophie suggested. They all swiveled to look at her. “Maybe Prentice found out he’d given the photograph to Lauren.”
“How would he find out?” Rand asked. “The photograph was still in her car.”
“Maybe she told him,” Sophie said.
“Right now Lauren Starling is the only one who can answer these questions,” Graham said. “We have to find her.”
“The calls we’ve been making checking on Lauren’s background did turn up one interesting fact,” Carmen said. She consulted her notes. “She had a one-million-dollar life insurance policy through her employer. The beneficiary is her ex-husband, Phillip Starling.”
Michael whistled. “So he had at least one reason to want Lauren out of the picture. Especially if he was having money problems.”
“Why wouldn’t she have changed the beneficiary on the policy when they divorced?” Rand asked Sophie.
“Lauren wasn’t always good about following up on that kind of detail,” she said. “And money wasn’t really that big a deal to her. She might have even wanted Phil to have the money—part of her still cared about him.”
“So Phil is still on our list of suspects,” Rand said.
A phone rang. Graham shifted in his chair to pull out his cell. “Hello?”
He listened for a few moments, then ended the call. “Marco is on his way with the warrant to search Richard Prentice’s home,” he said.
“Then my photographs helped,” Sophie said.
“Your photographs, along with the photo of Prentice and Milbanks together, were enough to persuade the judge that we had grounds to investigate further,” Graham said.
“I want to go with you,” she said.
“No.” Rand spoke before anyone else could answer. “You have to stay here.” He didn’t want her anywhere near Prentice again.
She frowned but had sense enough not to argue. “Then let me go back to my hotel room.”
“I can’t let you do that, either. It’s not safe.”
She looked around the utilitarian room. “What am I supposed to do while you’re away?”
“You can go back to my place.” Could he trust her to stay put this time?
“I’ve got an idea,” Graham said. “Some place she’ll be safe and out of trouble, but more comfortable.” He took out his phone and punched in a number. “Emma? How would you like some company this afternoon?”
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie rode with Rand to Graham and Emma’s house. Awkward silence still stretched between them. His anger annoyed her, though she told herself it was merely a sign of how much he cared. But it rankled that he wouldn’t give her credit for helping his investigation. As if the work the cops did was the only kind that mattered.
He pulled up to the house and shifted into Park. “I’ll call and let you know what we find out,” he said, not looking at her.
She nodded and opened the door. But she couldn’t leave with this coldness between them. “Be careful,” she said softly. “I’ve already lost one person who’s important to me. I don’t want to lose another.”
She didn’t wait for his reaction, but slid from the car and hurried up the walk to the house, where Emma welcomed her. “Come on in,” she said, ushering her into the living room.
“Hey.” Abby looked up from the sofa, where she was petting a large gray tabby. “We’re glad you could come.”
“Thanks for having me,” Sophie said. “I really didn’t want to hang around Ranger headquarters alone.” Or at Rand’s house. There were too many unanswered questions between them for her to feel comfortable there.
“It’s our pleasure,” Emma said.
“We’re hoping you can fill us in on everything that’s going on,” Abby said.
Sophie settled onto the sofa opposite Abby. “There’s not much to tell. Apparently, Alan Milbanks was smuggling drugs in his fish, and they think he was getting ready to leave the country when he was killed. I found a closet full of women’s clothing in an upstairs bedroom at Richard Prentice’s ranch. The clothes were Lauren’s size, and they smelled of her perfume.”
“I can’t believe you went out there on your own,” Abby said. “Weren’t you scared?”
“Yes.” She still got shaky, thinking about it. “But my worry about Lauren was stronger than my fear.”
“You’re lucky the Rangers got to you before Prentice did,” Emma said.
“Do you really think he’s dangerous?” Sophie asked. The billionaire was stern and grumpy and imperious, but he seemed too urbane to be violent.
“Remember what I told you—the last time I was at his ranch someone drugged me and knocked me out,” Emma said. “I was thrown down a mine shaft and left to die.”
“It’s hard to picture Richard Prentice doing something so violent,” Sophie said. The man was so cold and
businesslike.
“We don’t have any proof, but I think it was one of his guards,” Emma said. “The mine was located not far from his land, in the Curecanti wilderness area. Graham rescued me, though he was injured in the process.”
“Several people have died who had connections to Prentice,” Abby said.
“Then why is he still free?” Sophie asked. It didn’t make sense.
“Because he’s very rich and very smart,” Emma said. “No one’s been able to come up with strong proof to tie him to the crimes that are happening all around him.”
“What kind of crimes?” Sophie asked.
“All the things the Rangers were formed to investigate and prevent,” Abby said. “Last month they broke up a big illegal marijuana-growing and human-trafficking operation within the park. The man who was overseeing that had ties to a Mexican drug cartel, but the Rangers believe he wasn’t operating independently, that he had someone local who was financing the operation. The man—Raul Meredes—was shot by a sniper before he could talk to authorities.”
“A friend of mine, a pilot who flew for Prentice, was murdered while smuggling a stolen Hellfire missile,” Emma said. “He landed in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and was shot by the woman who had hired him for the job—the daughter of the Venezuelan ambassador to the United States.”
“Who was also Richard Prentice’s girlfriend,” Abby said. “She was caught on Prentice’s ranch with the missile.”
“What did she want with a Hellfire missile?” Sophie asked.
“We’re not sure.” Emma took up the story again. “Some people believe she planned to pass it along to terrorists in her homeland. In that case, Prentice may have financed the purchase. Or she might have gotten it for Prentice himself, to arm the unmanned drone he’s rumored to have purchased.”
“That’s the problem,” Abby said. “All of this is merely rumors and theory. Prentice may not have known anything about the missile. Valentina—the ambassador’s daughter—may have just been taking advantage of her connection to him.”
“The human-trafficking operation was happening all around him,” Emma said. “But no one has proof he knew anything about it. Maybe he’s telling the truth and he really is innocent.”
“That doesn’t explain what women’s clothing in Lauren’s size, smelling of Lauren’s perfume, is doing in a closet in his home,” Sophie said. “And he admits he knows her.”
“He can’t really deny that,” Emma said. “They attended the same charity ball in Denver not that long ago. It was in the paper.”
“Did they find any luggage in your sister’s car when she disappeared?” Abby asked.
Sophie shook her head. “None. Her laptop and phone are missing, too.”
“Then maybe she’s somewhere hiding?” Abby said, speculating. “Or she’s with Prentice voluntarily?”
“That’s what Rand suggested, too,” Sophie said. “But I don’t believe it. She wouldn’t hide from me. She has no reason to.”
“Families are funny.” Abby hugged a pillow to her chest. “Sometimes the people we love the most are the ones we need to get away from the most.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.
“I was injured in the war,” Abby said. “That’s where I got this.” She tucked her hair behind one ear and traced the scar along her cheek. “My parents were so worried and upset. They tried hard to protect me and encourage me at the same time, but all their hovering was too much. I felt like I was smothering. That’s one reason I struck out on my own and came here. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them, just that I needed to figure out things on my own. I needed to live the life I wanted, not the one they wanted for me.”
“So you’re saying that Lauren might have felt smothered by me?” The words pained her to say them.
“She had a lot to deal with,” Abby said. “Her diagnosis, divorce, problems at work. I can see how that would be overwhelming.”
“And I’ve always been the big sister, looking after her.” Sophie nodded. “I guess in her place, I might have found that a little smothering, too. But all she had to do was tell me to back off. I would have respected that. She didn’t have to cut ties altogether. With everyone.”
“Maybe the Rangers will find something at Prentice’s ranch today,” Emma said. “Maybe they’ll even find her and she can tell us herself what’s going on.”
* * *
GRAHAM, MICHAEL, RAND and Lotte pulled up to the gates at the Prentice Ranch a little after three in the afternoon, where Graham presented their search warrant to the guard who walked out to greet them. “Wait here and I’ll consult with Mr. Prentice,” the guard said, and started to turn away.
“No, we won’t wait.” Graham shifted the FJ Cruiser into gear. “We’ll go on up to the house. Now.” He gunned the engine, forcing the guard to jump out of the way or be run over.
“He must have called ahead,” Rand said as they neared the house. Prentice, flanked by the two lawyers, waited for them in front of the massive oak door.
“I strongly object to this violation of my client’s privacy.” The younger lawyer began speaking before the Rangers were even out of the car.
“Object all you like. We have a legal warrant.” Graham held the papers out to Prentice.
The billionaire put his hands behind his back, his face impassive.
Graham opened his hand and let the papers flutter to the ground at Prentice’s feet. “Come on.” He addressed the others. “We’ll start upstairs.”
Lotte led the way, trotting up the stairs ahead of them. She stopped and waited on the landing at the top. Rand pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, one he’d scented with the Mitsouko perfume he’d ordered from a department store in Denver two days earlier. “Sic,” he commanded, and Lotte hesitated only a moment before heading down the hall.
Rand trotted to keep up with the dog, the others following. Lotte stopped and whined at a closed door. Rand slipped on a pair of gloves, then carefully opened the door. The dog rushed in and stopped again beside an ornate carved bed.
“Does she think Lauren Starling’s been in that bed?” Michael asked from behind him.
“Someone wearing this perfume, in any case.” He glanced under the bed. Nothing there but dust. “Let’s try the closet.”
Michael opened the closet door and the three men and the dog crowded around to look in. Lotte whined excitedly, her signal for a find. But the closet was empty. Not so much as a coat hanger disturbed the space.
“Is this the closet Sophie said was full of women’s clothes and shoes?” Graham asked.
“According to the diagram she drew for us, yes.” Rand frowned. Even he recognized the scent of the Mitsouko perfume in here, but the space looked as if it had been empty for a while. He ran a finger along the edge of the shelf. It came away dirty—the kind of dust that collected when a space sat unused for a long time.
“Come on, let’s see what else is up here.” Graham led the way out of the room.
Looking confused, Lotte followed. She kept looking back over the shoulder at Rand, her expression worried. When she found what they were looking for, everyone was supposed to be happy. They weren’t supposed to ask her to keep looking. But she obediently sniffed every corner of every room they entered and found nothing.
Downstairs proved just as empty, of anything but Prentice’s furniture and books and personal belongings. The longer they searched, the more visibly frustrated Graham grew. Downstairs, Prentice and his duo of dark-suited attorneys followed them from room to room, the billionaire’s expression growing more and more smug.
When they had searched every room, even looking into the washer and dryer and every cabinet and closet, Graham snapped off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. “We’re done here,” he said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Back in the SUV, Graham remained impassive until they were on the road headed back to headquarters. He slammed one hand against the dash, making them jump. “How is it he’s always one step ahead of us?” he asked.
“Maybe there’s another possibility we need to consider here,” Michael said.
“What’s that?” Rand asked.
Michael looked away “Maybe Sophie is making all this up.”
Rand stiffened. “Lotte alerted on that closet. Even I could smell the perfume in there.”
“Maybe because Sophie put it in there. We’re only taking her word for it that Lauren even wears that perfume.”
“What about the photographs she showed us?” Rand asked. “Those weren’t fake.”
“They were photographs taken in a closet of some women’s clothes and shoes,” Michael said. “That could have been any closet. That could have been any purse with a business card in it. There’s nothing to show where the pictures were taken. If we tried to introduce them in court, a good lawyer would say the same thing.”
Rand shook his head, disoriented. “Why would she do that? Why go to so much trouble to lie to us?”
“Because she wants attention?” Michael shrugged. “Maybe she’s as unbalanced as her sister.”
Rand’s stomach heaved. “No.”
“I’m not saying that’s what happened,” Michael said. “But until we find more evidence to support her claims, we have to consider the possibility.”
“No,” Rand said again. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her these last couple of days. She’s worried about her sister, sure, but nothing about her struck me as off or unstable.”
“Maybe you’re letting your feelings for her get in the way of your judgment.”
Rand realized he’d curled both hands into fists. He’d never felt so much like punching his friend. He turned to Graham. “What do you think, Captain?”