by Tami Hoag
“You’re not a cop anymore.”
“And I needed you to remind me of that. Fuck you, Landry.”
“I’m just saying. You don’t call the shots, Estes. You want to lord it over somebody, hire a minion. I don’t work for you or with you.”
“Fine. Then I’ll keep what I know to myself. See you there, asshole.”
I hung up and went to dress.
There are few creatures on earth more pigheaded than cops. I can say this with surety, because I am one. I may no longer have carried a badge, but that isn’t what being a cop means. Being a cop is in the nature, in the bones. A cop is a cop, regardless of status, regardless of uniform, regardless of agency, regardless of age.
I understood Landry because we were related by calling. I didn’t like him, but I understood him. I suspected he understood me on one level as well as anyone could. He wouldn’t admit to it, and he didn’t like me, but he knew where I stood.
I pulled on a pair of tan slacks and a black sleeveless T-shirt. The phone rang again as I was strapping on my watch.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“I don’t want you coming to my house.”
“Why not? Are you selling crack? Fencing stolen goods? What are you afraid of?”
I didn’t want my sanctuary breached, but I wouldn’t tell him that. Never willingly reveal a vulnerability to an adversary. My reluctance was telling enough. I gave him the address and cursed myself for giving him that tiny victory.
“I’ll be there in thirty,” he said, and hung up.
I buzzed him through the gate in twenty-three.
“Nice digs,” Landry said, looking at Sean’s house.
“I’m a guest.” I led the way from the parking area near the barn toward the guest house.
“It pays to know people who don’t live in cardboard boxes and eat out of Dumpsters.”
“Is that your social circle?” I asked. “You could aim a little higher. You live at the marina, after all.”
He gave me the look—suspicious, offended I would have knowledge of him without his permission. “How do you know that?”
“I checked you out. Idle hands and the World Wide Web . . .”
He didn’t like that at all. Good. I wanted him to know I was smarter than he was.
“Your blood type is AB negative, and you voted Republican in the last election,” I said, opening my front door. “Coffee?”
“Do you know how I take it?” he asked sarcastically.
“Black. Two sugars.”
He stared at me.
I shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
He stood on the other side of the kitchen peninsula with his arms crossed over his chest. He should have been on a recruiting poster. Starched white shirt with thin burgundy stripes, blood-red tie, the aviator shades, the military posture.
“You look like a fed,” I commented. “What’s up with that? Agency envy?”
“Why are you so curious about me?” he asked, irritated.
“Knowledge is power.”
“So this is some kind of game to you?”
“Not at all. I just like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“You know me as well as you’re going to,” he said. “Fill me in on the Seabrights.”
I played the videotape for him and told him what had happened the night before at the Seabright house. He didn’t bat an eye at any of it.
“You think the stepfather has some kind of angle on this?” he asked.
“There’s no question how he feels about Erin, and it’s certainly strange the way he’s handled things so far. I don’t like his connections. But if this kidnapping is staged and he’s a party to it, why be secretive with the tape? I don’t get that.”
“Control, maybe,” Landry said, running the tape back and playing it again. “Maybe he waits until it’s over and the girl is dead, then he shows the tape to the wife and tells her how he was protecting her from the awful truth and he handled the situation as he thought best.”
“Ah, yes. The decisions in the family are left to the person best equipped to make them,” I muttered.
“What?”
“The family motto. Bruce Seabright is a serious control freak. Pathological. Egotistical, a bully, psychologically abusive. The family is something out of Tennessee Williams.”
“Then it fits.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “The thing is, this girl existed in a veritable snake pit. I can name three other legitimate suspects.”
“Then do.”
I told him about Chad Seabright, and told him again about Don Jade.
“And I’m waiting to hear from a connection to Interpol about priors on Tomas Van Zandt. He has a history of bad behavior toward young women, and by all accounts he’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg.”
“Charming crowd these horse people,” Landry said.
“The horse world is a microcosm. The good, the bad; the beautiful, the ugly.”
“The haves and have-nots. That’s what keeps the prisons full,” Landry said. “Jealousy, greed, and sexual perversion.”
“Make the world go round.”
Landry sighed and backed the tape up again. “And what’s your stake in this mess, Estes?”
“I told you. I’m helping out the little sister.”
“Why? Why did she come to you?”
“It’s a long story that doesn’t really matter. I’m in it now, and I’m staying in it to the end. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said, his attention on the television. “But I’m sure that won’t stop you.”
“No, it won’t.”
He hit the pause button and squinted at the screen. “Can you make out that tag number?”
“No. I tried. I couldn’t make it out on Seabright’s tape either. You’ll need a technical wizard.
“Look, Landry, I’m already on the inside with Jade’s people,” I said. “I’m more than willing to work with you. You’d be stupid to take a pass on that. You’re a lot of things, I’m sure, but I don’t think stupid is one of them.”
He gave me a long look, trying to see something beyond what I would allow him to see.
“I’ve done my homework too,” he said. “You’re a loose cannon, Estes. You always were, the way I hear it. I don’t like that. You think this Seabright guy is a control freak. I consider that a virtue. When I’m on a case, I own it. Period. I don’t want to be in this thing and wondering what the hell you’re going to pull next. And I can guarantee no one else in the SO is going to stand for that either. My lieutenant finds out you’ve got your fingers in this, he’ll have my ass.”
“I can’t do anything about that. I am in it, and I’m staying in it. I said I’ll work with you, but I don’t work for you. You don’t control me, Landry. If that’s your focus, we have a problem. There’s only one goal here: getting Erin Seabright out alive. If you think it’s some kind of contest, you can keep your dick in your pants. I’m sure yours is bigger than anybody’s, but I don’t want to see it. Thanks anyway.
“Now can we get on this?” I asked. “We’re burning daylight.”
Landry took a beat, then motioned toward the door. “Lead the way. I hope I don’t regret this.”
I returned his look and his sentiment. “That makes two of us.”
B ruce Seabright was not happy to see me. He came to the door himself—no doubt having forbidden everyone else to—dressed for golf in khakis and a tangerine polo shirt. He had the same tasseled loafers as Van Zandt. It was now 8:15 A.M.
“Mr. Seabright, this is Detective Landry with the Sheriff’s Office,” I said. Landry held up his shield. “He tells me he hasn’t heard from you.”
“It’s Saturday,” Seabright said. “I didn’t know how early I could call.”
“So you thought you’d get eighteen in before you tried?” I asked.
“Ms. Estes tells me your stepdaughter has been abducted,” Landry said.
Seabright glared at me. “The kidnap
pers said no police, so I didn’t call the police. I certainly hope Ms. Estes hasn’t put Erin in greater danger by bringing you here.”
“I don’t think this trumps blowing off the ransom drop,” I said. “May we come in?”
He stepped back reluctantly, and closed the door behind us lest the neighbors see.
“Have you received any further communication from the kidnappers?” Landry asked as we followed Seabright to the inner sanctum. There was no sign of Krystal. The house was as silent as a mausoleum. I spied Molly crouched in the upstairs hall, peering down at us through the balusters.
“No.”
“You last heard from them when?”
“Thursday night.”
“Why didn’t you pay the ransom, Mr. Seabright?”
Seabright closed the doors of his office and turned around to go behind his desk. Landry had already taken a position there, standing behind the desk chair with his hands resting on the chair back.
“I’m sure Ms. Estes has told you, I’m not convinced this whole thing isn’t a hoax.”
“You’re convinced enough not to call the Sheriff’s Office for fear of what might happen to Erin, but not enough to pay the ransom?” Landry said. “I’m not sure I understand that, Mr. Seabright.”
Seabright paced the end of the room with his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry I don’t know the protocol for kidnapping victims. This is my first time.”
“Do you have the money?”
“I can get it.”
“On a Saturday?”
“If I have to. The president of my bank is a personal friend. I do an enormous amount of business with him.”
“Good,” Landry said. “Call him. Tell him you may need to ask him a favor later today. You need three hundred thousand dollars in marked bills. He’ll need some lead time to get that together. Tell him someone from the Sheriff’s Office will meet him at the bank to assist him.”
Seabright looked shocked. “B-but we’re not actually going to give them the money, are we?”
“You are if you ever want to see your stepdaughter alive again,” Landry said. “You do want that, don’t you, Mr. Seabright?”
Seabright closed his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Yes. Of course.”
“Good. I’ll have people out here within the hour to put a tap on your phone. When the next call comes in we’ll be able to trace its origin. You’ll set up the drop. You’ll tell them you’ll show with the money, but Erin has to be there where you can see her or it’s a no-go. They already know you’re not a pushover. If they haven’t already killed her, they’ll bring her. They want the money, not the girl.”
“I can’t believe any of this is happening,” Seabright muttered. “You’ll be there? At the drop?”
“Yes. I’ve already spoken with my lieutenant about your situation. He’ll be calling shortly to speak with you himself.”
“What about the FBI?” Seabright asked. “Don’t they always get involved with kidnappings?”
“It’s not automatic. They can be called in if you like.”
“I don’t. This is way out of hand already. They said not to call the police, now my home is going to be crawling with them.”
“We’ll be very discreet, Mr. Seabright,” Landry said. “I’ll want to speak to everyone living in the house.”
“My wife is sedated. Other than Krystal, it’s just myself, my son Chad, and Krystal’s younger daughter, Molly.”
“Detective Landry is aware of the sexual relationship between Erin and Chad,” I told him. Color spread up Seabright’s neck like the red in a thermometer. “He’ll definitely want to speak with Chad.”
“My son has absolutely nothing to do with this.”
“Because you say so?” I challenged. “Your son had plenty to do with Erin. He was seen at her apartment two nights before she disappeared, arguing with her.”
“That was all her doing,” Seabright said bitterly. “Erin goaded him into a relationship just to spite me.”
“You don’t think Chad would want to spite you for his own sake?”
Seabright came over and stuck a finger in front of my face. “I’ve had it with you and your accusations. I don’t care who you’re working for, I don’t want you here. The Sheriff’s Office is involved now. I’m sure they don’t have any use for a private investigator either. Do you, Detective?”
Seabright looked to Landry. Landry looked at me, his face as unreadable as mine.
“Actually,” Landry said. “Ms. Estes’ cooperation in this is very important, Mr. Seabright. I wouldn’t be here if not for her.”
Good cop, bad cop. I almost smiled.
“Perhaps you’d like to explain that to Detective Landry’s lieutenant,” I said to Seabright.
He wanted to put his hands around my throat and choke me. I could see it in his eyes.
“I’m sure he’ll be very interested to hear all about how you didn’t want to be bothered with your stepdaughter’s kidnapping,” I went on, walking away from him. “You know, Detective Landry, maybe you should call in the FBI. I’ve got a friend in the regional office I could reach out to. After all, this could have international implications if one of the foreign nationals at the equestrian center is involved. Or it could involve some out-of-state client of Mr. Seabright’s. If Erin has been taken across a state line, it automatically becomes a federal case.”
All I had to do was mention his business dealings and Seabright’s sphincter curled into a French knot.
“I don’t like being threatened,” he pouted.
I walked past him again, leaning toward his ear as I murmured, “That would be the point.”
“Your focus needs to be on your stepdaughter, Mr. Seabright,” Landry said. “Complaining about the people who seem to care more about this girl than you do isn’t going to stand you in very good stead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re making me feel like I should call my attorney,” Seabright said.
“Feel free to do that if you have concerns about talking to me.”
That shut him up. He rubbed his hands over his face and looked up at the ceiling.
“Do you consider me a suspect?” he asked.
“Investigations of this type of crime are always of a two-pronged nature, Mr. Seabright. We have to consider possibilities both outside the family and within it,” Landry said. “I’d like to speak with your son now. Is he home?”
Seabright went to an intercom panel on the wall and pressed a button. “Chad, would you come to my office, please?”
I imagined being elsewhere in the Seabright home, Bruce Seabright’s voice ringing out of the walls. All he needed was a remote-control burning bush and his image would be complete.
“Has Chad been in any kind of trouble with the law, Mr. Seabright?” Landry asked.
Seabright looked offended. “My son is an honor student.”
A polite knock sounded against the door and Chad Seabright stuck his head in the room, then slipped inside with the expression of a shy, hopeful puppy. He was dressed neatly in khakis and a navy Tommy Hilfiger polo. He looked ready to hit the links with the Young Republicans.
“Chad, this is Detective Landry and Ms. Estes,” Bruce Seabright said. “They want to ask you some questions about Erin.”
Chad put on big eyes. “Wow. Sure. I’ve already spoken with Ms. Estes. She knows I haven’t seen Erin. I wish I could be more helpful.”
“You and Erin had a relationship,” Landry said.
Chad looked embarrassed. “That was over. I admit that was wrong. It just sort of happened. Erin is very persuasive.”
“You had an argument with her last week. What was that about?”
“We broke up.”
“Chad!” Bruce Seabright snapped. “You told me it was over months ago! When Erin moved out.”
Chad looked at the floor. “It was . . . mostly. I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Chad, where were you last Sunday between four and six P.M.?” Landry asked.
Chad looked around as if the answer might be pasted on the walls. “Sunday? Um . . . I was probably—”
“We were at the movies,” Bruce Seabright said. “Remember, Chad? Wasn’t it Sunday we went to that new Bruce Willis movie?”