by Jeff Abbott
‘No, I’m not a lawyer. I’m an elected official.’
An unpleasant light glinted in the back of Gordell’s eyes. ‘I’m sure the voters might take offense at you not cooperating with the FBI.’
‘How have I not cooperated?’
‘Cocky. You don’t see that much in politicians,’ Gordell said.
‘Jim,’ Grimes said, a little weary.
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ Whit said.
‘Let’s not get into a turf war, Judge Mosley. You’ll lose and lose badly. We ask the questions. You answer them.’
Whit counted to ten. ‘It’s good I came here yesterday, as I can tell you Stoney Vaughn was alive and well then. If he’s been kidnapped since then, or he’s run off, at least I’ve narrowed the time frame considerably for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Grimes said.
‘What I’d like to know is why,’ Whit said.
‘Why what?’ Gordell said.
‘Why were Ben and Claudia kidnapped?’
‘Mr Vaughn is a wealthy man.’
‘Mr Stoney Vaughn is. Mr Ben Vaughn isn’t.’
‘They thought Stoney was aboard.’
‘Why did they think that? They knew his schedule?’
‘We don’t know yet, Judge.’ Grimes cleared his throat. ‘Quite possible the perps had been watching the house, waiting for his boat to go out. Maybe they just assumed his boat’s out, he’s out on it.’
‘So. Stoney Vaughn has a vague connection to my murder case, and he gets smack-dab in the middle of a kidnapping. Now he’s gone. It just doesn’t seem coincidence to me.’
‘You’re the one on this buried treasure kick, right?’ Gordell said.
‘I prefer to think of it as archaeological relics,’ Whit said. ‘This whacked-out supposed treasure hunter, Albert Exley or Allen Eck or Alex, I want y’all to find out who this guy is.’
Grimes’s lips tightened. ‘We’re appreciative of the information you gave Officer Salazar and to the other local authorities. But please understand, these various threads that may tie to a case, those are for us to sort out and prioritize, Your Honor.’
‘Let me tell you why this matters. This Alex, this certifiable nutcase, was in New Orleans when Danny Laffite’s cousin got murdered. He put a poor woman through a window because she might have heard someone telling him he “got” the wrong guy. I think Danny Laffite had been in touch with Stoney Vaughn in the weeks before, trying to cut a deal to finance a dig for this treasure. But Stoney got greedy and sent Alex to steal Danny’s evidence about the treasure and kill him. Only Alex killed the wrong person at Danny’s house. Danny must have phoned Stoney after the New Orleans break-in, and Stoney freaked at the thought Danny was still alive.’ He stopped, looked at the two agents. ‘So if I were you, I’d be looking really hard at Stoney Vaughn’s phone records. See if he called the Bayou Mee Motel in New Orleans. See if he had incoming calls from New Orleans or from South Carolina, where Danny Laffite was when his cousin got killed.’
‘We’ve heard this is your style,’ Gordell said. ‘Not sticking to your judicial duties.’ But Grimes was looking at him, head tilted slightly, with interest.
‘You shouldn’t listen to rumors,’ Whit said. ‘Has there been a ransom demand made for Stoney?’
‘Thank you for coming by, Judge Mosley.’ Gordell stood, didn’t offer a hand to shake.
‘I’m thinking Stoney didn’t want to pay five million. Did he not have it? Maybe y’all are checking his finances, finding some holes… I could see him taking off.’
‘Judge-’ Grimes blinked at him, like he couldn’t believe the words.
‘I wouldn’t buy a single share of a penny stock from that guy. And he had someone in the house here with him, I’m pretty sure.’
‘Did you see someone?’ Gordell asked.
‘No. But I felt watched. Stoney didn’t want me in the house. I asked him to lend me a book and he said no, he didn’t have one, looked back three times at the windows in a twenty-second period.’
‘But you didn’t see anyone.’
‘No, I didn’t. But there was a beige van here that’s not here anymore. A Chrysler, I think. I didn’t notice the license plates.’ And that made him feel stupid, that if he’d been so suspicious he should have made a note of it. ‘I don’t think Stoney Vaughn has acted alone in this, and I think this Alex guy may be helping him. We have a description of him. We want people to be looking for him, too.’
‘That’s fine,’ Grimes said. ‘Give us the info, we’ll see if there’s anything to it.’
‘Thank you, Judge,’ Gordell said. ‘We’ll call you if-’
‘Since I’ve answered your questions while you’ve looked at me like I was a urine sample,’ Whit said, ‘maybe you’ll defrost slightly and help me. I’d like to speak with Ben Vaughn, and I’m guessing he’s under your protection at the moment.’
‘Speak with him why?’
‘For the inquest into the Gilbert/Tran murders.’
‘He’s recuperating. Probably not up to questioning,’ Gordell said. He stood, signaling the interview was complete. ‘And we have certainly not treated you like a urine sample, sir.’ He gave Grimes a glance: This is a judge?
‘I just need five minutes with him.’
‘We’ll ask him for you,’ Grimes said after a moment’s hesitation.
‘Thank you,’ Whit said and stood.
‘Judge Mosley,’ Gordell said, ‘I Understand you’re a big fish in a little pond here. But we think for a second you’re interfering or fucking around with us, you’ll be the small-town magistrate in front of a federal magistrate. You understand me, sir?’
‘I understand you, sir,’ Whit said. ‘And if you don’t take me seriously and follow up on this Alex guy, I’m going to call every television station in Corpus Christi, Houston, and San Antonio and tell them that the FBI is purposely ignoring findings presented by the Encina County coroner. Me.’ Whit smiled. ‘It may only be news for a few minutes. But it’ll be news.’
Gordell’s mouth worked like he had a bee lodged in his gums.
29
Claudia saw Ben Saturday morning, after the FBI and the police had questioned, him further. A guard stood outside his door, watching the nurses. She came into his room and he opened his eyes. He looked pale, a thick bruise on his face, his dark hair little-boy tousled on the pillow.
Thank God,’ Ben said and she came to the bed, crawled in next to him, hugged him. He hugged back, winced a little.
‘Are you hurt? They said you were okay…’
‘The ribs, a little, but not bad.’ His voice was throaty. ‘Face hurts. Jesus, I’m glad you’re okay. Gar said he was going to-’
‘He didn’t. Danny shot him.’
’That’s what your ex told me.’
‘You spoke with David?’ She sat up.
‘Yeah,’ Ben said. ‘I mean, he questioned me last night. For about an hour, around three in the morning or so, once they really couldn’t find Stoney anywhere.’
‘Please be kidding. He didn’t.’
‘Sure. Claudia, it’s fine. If it helps them find my brother.’
‘Did David behave?’
‘Perfect gentleman.’
‘That’s somehow worse.’ She touched his chest. ‘Tell me what happened. Everything.’
‘Gar… was furious about not getting the money. He said he was going to rape you. The other guy-’
‘His name is Zack,’ she said.
‘Zack, then. He freaked. I wanted to reason with him, tell him to call Gar off, but he belted me across the face with his gun.’ He touched at the livid bruise on his battered nose, his cheek. ‘When I woke up he had me tied and handcuffed in the forward cabin’s head.’
‘Where did he take you?’
‘I think in circles. He didn’t know much about boats, sweetie,’ Ben said. ‘Then he panicked, tried to call Danny on his boat, didn’t get an answer.’
‘Danny never mentioned that. He told me Zack would probably kill
you.’
‘The dumb shit probably couldn’t operate the radio right. Asking on the wrong channels. But he did figure out the phone. I heard him make a call, asking someone to come and get him, he was stuck out on the Gulf in a big fucking boat he couldn’t drive with a hostage. Crying about his boyfriend, cussing Stoney for not being on the boat and it all going down wrong. You would’ve thought his car had broken down and he was calling roadside assistance.’
‘But Zack left Gar. He cut the lines.’
‘I don’t think so, Claudia. From what I heard, I think Gar cut those. To keep his boyfriend from interfering with him going after you.’
Claudia let out a long breath. ‘So someone came and rescued him?’
‘Not exactly. He told me he’d gotten the boat in close to shore and he didn’t know how to drop the anchor but he was gonna swim in. Said all this to me through the closed door of the head. I kept thinking, he’s gonna open it up, shoot me. Then he says he doesn’t want to face a murder charge. Says he’ll let me be if I just say Gar and Danny were behind it all, maybe do him a favor, not mention him. I’m saying, sure, not a problem. Thinking he’s just going to shoot me when it comes time for him to leave. But then he was gone. I didn’t hear another boat draw close, and I started hoping, he didn’t set the anchor, we might be drifting into the Intracoastal. I was hoping to be a threat to navigation. Jesus, it’d mean people found me.’
‘How’d you get out of the handcuffs?’
‘I found a little wrench under the sink. Had to pull it to me with my toes. Stoney probably left it there the last time he fixed a faucet. He never puts up his crap. So I used it to hammer the lock, finally broke it, and while I’m trying, Jupiter went aground. I’m sweating bullets. I’m thinking, God, am I sinking? I smash the cuffs, get out, see that I’ve run aground on a little oyster-shell beach, on a little strip of island not far off the Intracoastal. I could see a freighter in the distance, heading down toward Corpus. Zack tore all the wires out of the satellite phone and the radio. I was so ready to be off that boat, thinking maybe you could still be rescued. I just got into the water and swam. Halfway to shore I’m thinking, maybe I could have stayed on the boat, set off a flare. I was just mental. Reached Encina Pass.’ He squeezed her. ‘Claudia. I thought for sure…’
‘I know.’ She kissed him then, and he was gentle, like he couldn’t quite believe she was there.
He let the kiss linger and then said, ‘My brother.’
‘They’ll find him.’ She sat up. ‘I want to talk to you about your brother.’
‘Zack. Or his friends. They must have gone after Stoney for the money.’
‘Your brother knew we had been kidnapped, Ben. He didn’t call the police. He didn’t tell anyone.’
‘They said they would kill us, Claudia.’
‘Did he or did he not refuse to pay ransom?’
Ben’s mouth worked. ‘My brother wouldn’t do that to us.’
‘Danny said the next morning that Stoney had agreed to a trade, thinking you were with Danny and me. So I’m assuming he hadn’t paid a ransom the day before.’
‘Stoney said his computer systems were down, he couldn’t do the transfer. Claudia, my brother’s not some cold-blooded monster. You can’t believe this of him.’
‘I know you love your brother, Ben…’
‘You heard him, didn’t you? You heard him repeat back the account numbers for the transfer, Claud. But he didn’t have this imaginary emerald that Danny wanted. Danny was fucking nuts, you know that.’
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘But your brother didn’t call the police. At any point.’
‘The kidnappers took him before he could.’
‘A judge – my friend Whit Mosley – saw him Friday morning at his house. Looking like hell. What if there’s no virus, Ben? He didn’t want to move the five million…’
‘No. He couldn’t move the money. He must’ve been waiting to hear from the kidnappers again. Zack’s friends grabbed him. It’s the best explanation. You don’t believe what Danny said, do you?’
‘I honestly don’t know what to think about Stoney.’
‘My brother-’ Ben’s voice broke.
‘If I’m wrong, I’m sorry. I hope to God I’m wrong.’
‘Stoney loves me.’
She said nothing.
‘He was afraid they would hurt us if he called the police.’ Trying to convince himself, convince her.
‘Ben, Gar knew I was a cop. He called me Officer.’
Ben stared down at the sheets covering his lap.
‘Did you tell them I was a cop?’
‘No.’
‘Did your brother?’
‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore, please. My brother isn’t a bad guy, Claudia. We don’t know the truth yet.’ He moved slightly away from her on the bed.
He was too deep in denial. ‘I care about you,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you hurt.’ He didn’t look at her and she felt the little gap grow. ‘Ben…’
He let go of her hand; she took his hand in answer, squeezed hard.
‘Don’t say these things about my brother.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You need your rest.’ She kissed his forehead. ‘I’m going to go for a while so you can sleep, all right? You need sleep.’
Ben said nothing and she went to the door.
‘Claudia?’ Ben’s voice, small, low.
‘Yeah?’
‘If he didn’t refuse to pay the ransom… they came and took him, didn’t they? They just don’t give up on five million, not when there’s another option to get it.’
‘I hope not, Ben.’
‘I mean, did he not think we were worth five million? He could have made it back in a few years, the way he worked, the deals he cut. God, I’m his brother.’
‘Maybe they took him, Ben.’ Odd, her tone of hoping that a guy got kidnapped, that it could be a remotely positive thing.
‘But if he can’t get to his money,’ Ben said, ‘won’t they kill him?’
Ben was staying at the hospital, at least through the day. Claudia, tired but hating the sterile walls and wanting her own bed, checked herself out around noon. Her mother, Tina, accompanied her home, fussing the whole way, fluffing pillows, fixing a pan of chicken enchiladas and a plate of chocolate chip cookies that Claudia uncharacteristically had no appetite for. Claudia went to go lie down on her bed, trying not to think about how Stoney could betray Ben so completely. She was still exhausted and she catnapped, loving the feel of her own pillows, sheets, the solidity of the bed. She didn’t like thinking about the water, with nothing but the depths beneath her feet.
A knock on the door woke her; Tina entered with a thick envelope. ‘Something from work. The officer said you asked for it. Sweetie, I don’t want you working, tiring yourself out.’
‘That’s okay, Mama.’ Claudia sat up. ‘Put it on the bed. I’ll look at it in a minute.’
Her mother did, doused the lights again.
Claudia waited. Mama was exhausted, worn out from staying up most of the night fretting over her. Fifteen minutes later she glanced into the small den. Tina Salazar lay on the couch, snoring softly. Claudia covered her with a light blanket, went back to her room, and opened the file. She’d asked the Port Leo PD to get her what they could find from the New Orleans PD on Danny Laffite and his suspected associates in the kidnapping. She began to read.
Alex had stayed away from Stoney for the morning, sleeping a little later in his new, no-better motel room, dreaming of his dad, the two of them diving for treasure in the shallow waters off the Keys. He hadn’t slept well; someone had knocked on his door at some point near midnight, waking him instantly, and he’d crept to the door with his gun in hand, finally peering through the peephole. No one there. He could hear teenagers laughing down the hall – probably just kids. But it unsettled his sleep and he didn’t go back for a while, wondering how to best get his sick father to Costa Rica without attracting too much attention.
He got up, showered, dressed, turned on the local Saturday morning TV news. All Stoney – the missing financier. Nothing on Danny Laffite, though, nothing on the murders at Black Jack Point. But still. He needed to get moving. And he needed to take some precautions.
He drove the van over to the big grocery near the Port Leo harbor. It was a chain superstore, an H-E-B, the megachain in Texas, and the store was pink. Coral pink, the whole building, like all they sold was Pepto-Bismol. He slipped on sunglasses and a Marlins cap and went inside – it was busy, full of retirees and young babies, families, Mexicans, Vietnamese, Anglos, sunburned Yankees asking where the juice was in their nasal whines. He bought some doughnuts, a coffee, a small milk, and a box of hair coloring. Time for a change. Go punkish blond, cut the hair short, dump the van at the Corpus airport. The cashier looked a little funny at him, a guy buying blond hair coloring, but bagged it up with the food and took his money.
Alex was halfway across the parking lot when he saw Helen Dupuy.
She was walking toward the store just out of a truck – an old beat-up red truck, walking with a monster of a guy. Big-built, freak-ugly face, military burr of dark hair. And he thought she might have seen him, just two rows over, if she hadn’t been looking up all goggle-eyed at this freak.
Can’t be Helen, he thought, and he took a hard left, heading away from his car, asking himself what the hell he was doing, stepping behind an SUV, peering at her. Maybe not Helen. It couldn’t be her. The two of them walked into the grocery, now forty feet ahead of him, and he turned and followed them, thinking, No way it’s her, no way.
He kept his sunglasses and his cap on as he entered the store, scanned the register lines, the crowd of shoppers going their separate ways into the aisles. Didn’t see them. He looked to his left, over at the bakery section clogged with morning pastry buyers and saw them, the guy pulling Helen through the maze of carts and screaming kids and tables of pies and doughnuts. He followed, hanging back, trying to keep at an angle where the woman couldn’t see him. It was Helen, Jesus. She was wearing a halter, a plain blue one, not slutty – it was a hot morning. Above the top of the halter on her back was a discolored hatch of lines, the scars he must’ve put on her skin when he flung her through the glass window.