Live in Person

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  He started to head for Melbourne Airport, but changed his mind. That would take over an hour round trip. He had too much to do and too little time, and this goddamn headache was killing him. He didn’t dare take anything for it. The only thing that touched the pain was narcotics, and he couldn’t afford to be drugged out. Things were heating up. He had to be alert. If only his head didn’t hurt so bad.

  OK, he’d go back to Port Canaveral. There were plenty of cars there, and it was only five minutes away. Sure, this one would be reported missing, but big deal. How long would it take them to find it wedged in among two or three hundred other cars?

  ■ ■ ■

  The switch was easy. The port parking lots had twenty-four-hour security, but how much coverage could two Rent-a-Cops provide for a five-acre lot?

  This bozo actually had a spare key in a metal box under the driver side running board, which saved Sidney the trouble of hot-wiring it. And bozo had left his parking ticket wedged in his sun visor. Better and better. Sidney happily paid the $23.50 to exit the lot. Money well spent.

  He made a quick trip to Cocoa to check on his guest. The guy was out cold. If Sidney had calculated right, he probably had three or four hours to visit his folks.

  It was almost ten o’clock when he switched off his car lights and glided to the curb several houses down. No lights were on at his parents’ house, but that didn’t mean one still wasn’t awake. He’d give it another hour or so. Then, he’d make his move.

  ■ ■ ■

  Teresa knew Wally was still downstairs, even though she could see from the top of the stairs that the lower floor was dark. He was avoiding her. He hadn’t spoken a word since the sheriff’s visit, hadn’t come to bed. Why couldn’t Cord Arbutten leave her and her family alone? Why wasn’t he out chasing dangerous criminals instead of hounding her? That was what she paid taxes for—to pay his salary. She had half a mind to file a complaint against him for harassment if he didn’t leave them alone.

  She had tried to sleep. It was after eleven, and she was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come. She’d tried to slip in the pantry several times to put money in the canister, but Wally was always there before she had a chance. She knew better than to go downstairs now. Wally would want to know why, and what could she say? But what if Sidney needed money for something? Where else might he look?

  Her purse. If she could get her purse downstairs, he’d see it if he came in the house. He knew she always carried money with her. He’d helped himself to it enough times. But how could she do it without Wally suspecting?

  Then, she had an idea. She picked up her purse and headed downstairs.

  Wally sat in the living room in the dark. He glanced up when Teresa came down the stairs, but said nothing. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was so angry with her that he would leave her alone.

  That hope was dashed when she switched on the kitchen light. The pantry door was ajar. Either Wally had been in there again, or—or Sidney had been. Was she too late?

  She jumped when Wally walked up behind her. “What are you doing up?”

  “I need to take a pill. I can’t sleep.”

  Wally glanced at her purse, then back at her. “You had to bring the whole purse downstairs? Why didn’t you just bring the pill bottle? Or why didn’t you get some water in the bathroom upstairs?”

  He remained rigid for a full minute before his posture sagged. “What are you doing, Teresa? Isn’t the boy in enough trouble? Don’t you realize that helping him will only make it worse—for all of us?”

  She was so angry, she was trembling. “I know you don’t care about him. You never have—”

  “That’s not true.”

  “But I love him. What if he needs money for medicine—?”

  “Or booze or drugs or bullets—”

  “Or food. Would you let your own flesh and blood starve? Is that what kind of father you are?”

  Teresa saw Wally’s face go red. His breathing was audible. “All right, goddamn it. Is that what you want? You want him free long enough to commit a crime that will get him hung, fine. By all means, let’s help him. Then, when he’s shot to death trying to avoid capture, it’ll all be on you.”

  He reached in her purse and snatched her wallet. He started to pull out the cash, but then he snapped it closed. “Why just give him cash? Why not give him all your credit cards? Then, he can have a good run for his money before he’s caught.”

  He stomped to the pantry and swung the door wide. He turned back to say something but stopped. He must have seen the shock on her face.

  Sidney. Dressed in black sweats.

  Wally remained frozen, but Teresa stepped forward, “Sidney. Oh, sweetheart, I knew you’d come.”

  He barely spared her a glance. His eyes were on his father. The wallet. His father’s face. He reached out and snatched the wallet before Wally could react. “Don’t try to stop me,” he said, heading toward the back door.

  Teresa was horrified when Wally stepped between Sidney and the door. “I have to, Son. You’re making a big mistake. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to get yourself killed. Think what that’ll do to your mother.”

  “But not you,” Sidney sneered. “You can go fuck yourself. And get out of my way.”

  As he tried to brush past, Wally shoved him back and reached for his cell phone. Before Teresa could blink, Sidney’s fist shot out, catching Wally along the side of his head. Wally went down, his head hitting the floor with a sickening crack. Blood poured from the opening.

  Sidney’s mouth fell open. He hesitated slightly. Then, he clutched the wallet to his body and ran out the back door.

  Teresa went after him, but he vanished. Back inside, she knelt on the floor beside her husband. She could see he was breathing. She picked up his cell phone from where he’d dropped it and started to dial 911. Then, she put the phone down as sorrow as profound as any she’d ever felt washed through her.

  This is what they had driven Sidney to. All of them. Cord. Wally. All those people who turned their backs on him once he was in trouble. Where would he go now? And what in God’s name was going to happen next?

  Eighteen

  “Try pointing at the target,” Sheryl said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “I am pointing at the target,” Allie said for what she knew was the hundredth time. “The gun keeps jumping.”

  Sheryl pulled off her headgear. “It’s called recoil, and you’re supposed to compensate for that. Aim lower. If you shoot any higher, you’re going to start bringing down birds.”

  Allie pulled out her earplugs, which weren’t helping much anyway. “I give up. No,” she said when Sheryl started to speak. “Not forever. For today. My eyes burn, and my back hurts, and I think I’m getting a blister.”

  Sheryl made a face. “You are such a wimp. What’s a blister? Christ, you probably have to go to bed for a week for a hangnail.”

  “And take a Darvon,” Allie agreed as they put away their gear. This shooting a gun was a whole lot more difficult than it looked. She wasn’t kidding about having a blister. It had popped about an hour ago, and it was probably infected by now.

  They walked in companionable silence to Sheryl’s car. Typically, Allie would have insisted on driving—Sheryl drove like Evel Knievel on steroids—but Sheryl knew the way to the range. It was Allie’s first time, but not, she vowed, her last. She’d enjoyed the first hour, but Sheryl seemed determined to render her an accomplished sharpshooter in one day.

  “Lester’s?” Sheryl asked as she slid behind the wheel.

  “And step on it.”

  Allie regretted her words the minute they were out of the parking lot. Sheryl wove in and out of traffic like an EMT with a free bleeder in the back. If Allie weren’t so starved, she might have told her to slow down. Not that it would have done any good, but if they had an accident, the blame would rest squarely on Sheryl’s shoulders. Not that they were likely to survive a crash at this speed.

  Twenty minutes later, they be
llied up to the bar at Lester’s. As usual, their drinks were waiting for them. Sheryl’s, these days, was a cola.

  Allie looked at the Bloody Mary with double celery. “How did you know I was hungry?” she asked Del.

  “Sheryl said she was taking you to the range. It always gives her an appetite. I figured you’d be no different.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you saw her fire a gun,” Sheryl said. “You’d better teach her a lot of hand-to-hand, because if she has to defend herself with a gun, she’s dead.”

  “Stop picking on me,” Allie said, punching Sheryl’s arm. “I’m doing the best I can. How good were you when you started?”

  Sheryl started to answer, and then stopped. “OK, you have a point, but I had weeks to improve. I doubt you do.”

  “Thanks for planting that thought in my head.” She turned to Del. “I want a hamburger with everything and a large fries.”

  “You are hungry. How about you, honey.”

  “I want two beers and some wings.”

  “OK. A grilled chicken sandwich on wheat and another Coke. Back shortly.”

  When he was gone, Allie looked at Sheryl. “I can’t believe how well you’re taking this whole thing.”

  Sheryl smiled, and it transformed her whole face. She looked softer—and happier than Allie had ever seen her. “I think it’s kind of cute, you know? I’ve never had anyone who wanted to take care of me before. I kind of like it.”

  Allie’s experience was the opposite. Other than her mother, everyone she came across wanted to take care of her, and she hated it. “Is Libby still as pleased as she was about the baby?”

  Sheryl snorted, sounding more like herself. “She’s in heaven. It’s all she talks about. She’s doubling her physical therapy so she’ll be fully mobile by the time little Rocco here comes.” She patted her middle.

  “Rocco?”

  “That’s what Del wants to name him.”

  “What if he’s a she?”

  Sheryl stared at her for a minute and then grinned. “Rockette?”

  They were still laughing when Del returned with their food.

  ■ ■ ■

  Sidney squirmed in his booth. The fucking bitches. Laughing their asses off. Well, let them. They wouldn’t be laughing long.

  He thought back to the night before, and his eyes stung. Man, he hoped his dad was OK. He’d only meant to graze his chin. Just enough to distract him. Fuck, what if he’d killed him? He hadn’t dared hang around to see if an ambulance showed up. He knew the minute his dad came around, he’d call the sheriff. Then Cord would know for sure that Sidney was in town. Sidney had hoped to keep him in the dark a little longer. Well, whatever. It was too late now.

  He turned as the door opened, and he almost fell out of his seat. Christ. The sheriff. What the hell was he doing here?

  Sidney scrunched lower in the booth as he waited for the sheriff to spot him, but he continued down to the far end of the bar. Sidney wanted to hear what he said to them, but he didn’t dare walk. The place wasn’t crowded, and they’d spot his limp for sure. Goddamn this foot. And it was Allie Grainger’s fault. Every bit of it.

  He could make out every third word or so. Not enough to make sense of what the sheriff was saying. He fumed.

  ■ ■ ■

  “…a ruckus at the Finch’s house last night. Apparently, Sidney paid them a visit. Wally tried to stop him from leaving, and Sidney knocked him out. Wally split his head when he came down.”

  “Is he OK?” Allie asked.

  “He’ll be fine, no thanks to Teresa. She didn’t call the paramedics until half an hour after Sidney left. Wally could have bled to death. It took a dozen stitches to close his scalp. He’ll have quite a scar to remind him.”

  “Sidney’s out of control,” Sheryl said.

  Cord nodded his agreement. “But that’s not what brings me here.” He turned to Allie. “Your brother’s car was located at the Port Canaveral lot. They do a license plate check every few days to make sure no cars are abandoned there. Check them against their records. They realized it was a rental and called the rental agency. They identified it as registered to Leonard Grainger.”

  Allie could barely breathe. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. “Len?” She felt Sheryl’s arm go around her. Allie barely noticed.

  “No, the car was empty. Wiped clean of prints.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “There is what looks like blood in the trunk.”

  Allie gasped.

  “The lab is processing it. Could be it’s animal blood or something else altogether. We’re not sure. I have to call your mother—”

  “Oh, my God,” Allie said, dropping her head in her hands. “This is a nightmare.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Cord said, his voice gentle. “We don’t know for sure he’s a victim of foul play.”

  Allie’s head snapped up. “What else could it be? Do you think he cut himself and bled in the trunk and then hopped a cruise ship?” At Cord’s wounded look, she relented. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe all this is happening. First, Sidney escapes and comes gunning for me, and now, Len disappears…”

  She looked at Sheryl. “You don’t think—”

  “He wouldn’t dare. That’s kidnapping.”

  “So what? He’s already facing attempted murder.”

  “But why would he snatch Len? And where’s the ransom note?”

  “It’s only been two days. Maybe he hasn’t had time to deliver it yet. Or… what if it’s not ransom he’s after?”

  “What then?”

  “Revenge. The same thing he’s been after since he got out. If he knows how Len and I feel about each other, what better way to make me look bad than to have Len disappear?”

  “How would Sidney know you hate each other?”

  “We know he’s been in my house. Maybe he’s been other places and overheard me talking.”

  “Sidney’s not that smart. Or that resourceful,” Sheryl shot back. Then, she hesitated. “OK. Maybe he is, but where would he keep him?”

  “Wherever he’s staying. He has to be sleeping somewhere. If Len is still—” She couldn’t say the word.

  Cord held up a hand. “Wait just a minute, both of you. You’re going off the deep end.” He turned to Allie. “We have no reason to suspect Sidney had any part in your brother’s disappearance. The two situations could be totally unrelated. We’re going to proceed on the assumption that they are until we have reason to suspect otherwise.”

  He looked at Sheryl. “Levine, I don’t want this supposition bandied around. It could take the focus off the separate investigations. If we find any connection at all, we’ll proceed differently at that time, but not until then. Do you understand?”

  Sheryl nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Cord looked back at Allie. “I’ll let you know what your mother says when I call her.”

  “Do you have to tell her about the blood in the trunk? She’s going to be frantic.”

  “No, I’m not going to tell her about the substance we found in the trunk until we’ve confirmed what it is. We don’t know that it’s blood. I’m going to tell her we located his car and that there seems to be no indication of violence—which is true at the moment. I’m also going to tell her we have officers questioning the staff at the Hilton and that we’ll let her know as soon as we learn anything.”

  “Don’t forget, she’s an attorney.”

  “I deal with attorneys every day, Allie.”

  “Not attorneys like my mother, you don’t.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Allie heard the telephone ringing when she let herself in the front door. One glance at caller ID had her heading in the other direction. She was not ready to talk to her mother. She had reached the bedroom when she heard the answering machine kick in.

  “Allison, I know you’re there. Don’t be such a coward that you hide from a simple telephone call. I spoke with that sheriff down there, and he told me he’d talked to you. You kno
w they found Len’s car. Despite all that nonsense that sheriff was spouting, I know something’s happened to Len. No one parks their car in a cruise line parking lot and walks away. If that incompetent police department down there doesn’t do something about it, I plan to take matters in my own hands. I’ll hire an investigator of my own if I have to, since you apparently don’t want to help. This is all your fault, Allison. If you’d shared Lou’s inheritance with your brother in the first place, he wouldn’t have come down there.”

  Vivian took a shaky breath. “I know you’re there. If you don’t pick up this phone immediately, I’m going to be on the next plane…”

  That did it. Allie ran across the room and snatched up the phone. “Mother? Is that you? I just walked in the door.”

  “Of course, you did. You are such a poor liar, Allison. What have you heard about your brother?”

  “Nothing other than what the sheriff told you. I know they’ve put on extra deputies to help in the search.” Two lies, but this was an emergency.

  “What are you going to do? I mean you personally. This is your fault, you know.”

  Allie held the phone away from her ear as her mother ranted. The hell of it was if Sidney had snatched Len, it truly was her fault.

  ■ ■ ■

  Allie was stretched out face down on the sofa two hours later when she heard a knock at her front door. She almost ignored it. She wanted to bury her head under a pillow and not come out until all this was over.

  She didn’t see an outline through the frosted jalousies, so she peeked out the window. Rand was heading back to his car. Should she let him? She was in no mood for company tonight, not even his. At the last minute, she yanked open the door.

  “Rand!”

  He turned, and a smile split his face. It remained in place until he was halfway across the yard. Then, he hurried his steps.

  “What is it?” he asked when he reached her.