Live in Person

by Lynda Fitzgerald

  With a lot of groaning and moaning, Len got to his knees. Then, his feet. Sidney backed to a safe distance. He wasn’t giving the guy another chance. He looked at the front of Len’s trousers where a wet stain had spread across the front. “I guess you don’t have to go anymore.”

  “I know your voice.”

  Shit. He’d dropped the mike.

  “You’re that police officer from the hotel,” Len said, his voice incredulous. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  Sidney hesitated. Then, he pulled off the mask. The damn thing was hotter than hell, anyway. “I said you asked too many questions. Why is none of your business. And if you want to stay alive, you’ll shut the hell up. Back in the bedroom.” He motioned with the gun.

  At first, he thought the guy was going to challenge him. Sidney wasn’t prepared to shoot. He’d have to bring him down another way. Hell, even if Sidney was a crip, this guy was no match for him. He’d logged hundreds of hours in hand to hand. He knew every pressure point in the human body. Sidney almost welcomed the attack.

  Then, the guy started moving toward the bedroom, holding his side. Sidney never took his eyes off him. Catch me once, shame on you, he thought.

  Once he had him tucked back in bed—which meant tied and shackled—he moved back to the living room. He took a pill from his dwindling stash and returned to the bedroom. “Take this,” he said, thrusting it toward Len’s mouth.

  “I need some water.”

  Sidney looked down at his pants front and laughed. “You’re wearing it. Screw the water. Chew it.”

  Len opened his mouth, and Sidney shoved the pill inside. He watched as Len chewed it, making a face, and then swallowed.

  “Open your mouth,” Sidney said.

  Len’s eyes widened.

  “Open it, goddamn it.”

  Sidney knew all about cheeking meds. He was a master at it. The pill was stuck to the inside of Len’s cheek. Sidney whacked him on the knee with his pistol, earning him a satisfying groan.

  “I said swallow it.”

  This time, Sidney was sure he took it. Len almost gagged as it went down. Sidney leaned against the wall and waited until Len’s eyelids began to droop before shoving the sock gag back in his mouth. He tied a handkerchief around Len’s head to hold the gag in place.

  He had some thinking to do, and junior here needed to be quiet.

  ■ ■ ■

  Her mother called back. Vivian needed to go home to get the pictures. She said she’d fax them as soon as she could.

  Allie had a little time to kill. She walked Spook on the beach. When she let herself out the door, she could see the dummy hanging from her deck rail, even though it was long gone. She still didn’t know why it had freaked her out so badly. It was cloth and stuffing and fake blood, not a real person. She knew that, but it didn’t help. She read in history class about people being hung in effigy, and she had always wondered what the big deal was. Now, she knew.

  Spook enjoyed the walk more than Allie did. She expected Sidney to jump out from behind every bush, to shoot at her from every rooftop, but she’d be damned if she’d cower inside until he was caught. She wouldn’t give him that power.

  She checked the fax machine when they got back. Nothing. She knew it would take her mother more than an hour to drive home, retrieve the pictures, and then drive back to her office. She still had at least forty-five minutes to wait.

  She folded the blanket on the couch and put it away. She shoved her laundry into the mini-washer in the hall closet and started it. Then, there was nothing to do except clean, and she wasn’t dressed for it.

  Knowing it might be unwise, which seemed reason enough to do things these days, she grabbed a Diet Coke from the refrigerator and let herself out the back door. She gave the fake bloodstain on her patio a wide berth and climbed the wrought-iron staircase to her rooftop deck.

  She knew Sidney had been here. There was no sign, but there was also no other way to hang the dummy from the rail unless he brought a tall ladder, which she doubted. His mere presence here sullied her childhood play area in some way. Had he sat on her lounge chair?

  “Allie.”

  She almost fainted until she realized it was Frank’s voice from the construction site. She turned. Frank was leaning out an opening that would someday be someone’s balcony door. He wasn’t more than ten feet from her.

  Allie and Frank had gotten off to a rocky start when Frank flattened her Jeep tires in retaliation for Allie calling the police on him when he threatened to run her over with a backhoe. Somehow, they’d gotten past that and become friends of a sort, despite the fact that Frank and his crew were methodically destroying her private paradise. She couldn’t hold it against them. They were doing a job, not attacking her personally. Someone else was doing that.

  “Hi, Frank. How’s it going?”

  “So-so,” Frank said. “Gotten any more presents lately?”

  Allie shuddered. “Yes, last night.”

  “Yeah? What’d the asshole leave last night?”

  She wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to yell it across ten feet of open space. “You got time for a cup of coffee?”

  Frank grinned. “I always have time for coffee,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

  Frank tapped on her back door as the coffeepot gurgled its last. Allie poured them each a cup, and they took them up on the deck. So he could watch the boys, Frank said, but Allie thought maybe he just enjoyed the view. Like she used to.

  She told Frank about the dummy.

  “Jeez, this guy really has it in for you. You know who’s doing it?”

  Allie nodded. “You remember last August when that cop tried to run me off the bridge?”

  “That was a cop? I thought the whole Sheriff’s Department was your friends.”

  “A lot of them are. Not this guy. He was arrested for trying to kill a bunch of other people and me, but he escaped. Now, he’s trying to make me pay.”

  “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

  “He thinks I did. He’s convinced I caused everything, from losing his job to his injuries—.”

  Frank broke in. “What injuries?”

  “He was injured when he was captured. A lot of bones were broken. I’ve heard there’s permanent damage to one leg and foot.”

  Frank rubbed his jaw. “I saw someone… but that was a chick. Woman,” he corrected. “She came by. She was limping. I remember because she was dead-dog ugly.”

  Allie felt a stirring of excitement. “What did she look like?”

  He shrugged. “Average height. About your height. Maybe a little taller. Skinny. She had this bright red hair. Had to be dyed. The good Lord never gave nobody that color hair for real. Anyway, she was kind of shifty, looking around. I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

  “Have you seen anyone else around?”

  “Just all those couriers. One was a skinny little dude, and one was a fat guy.”

  “Did you notice what they were driving?”

  Frank thought for a minute. “Nah, but they were all new. I remember thinking that this courier stuff must pay pretty well.” He rubbed his jaw. “And there was that other man.”

  “What other man?”

  “Tall. Good-looking guy wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. I saw him prop something against your front door. Was that him?”

  Allie felt like someone had pricked her balloon. “No, that had to be my brother.”

  “I didn’t know you had family around.”

  “I don’t. He lives in Atlanta, and I think Sidney might have kidnapped him.”

  “Sidney?”

  “The cop who tried to kill me.”

  “Jeez, girl, that’s bad. Do the police have any leads?”

  Allie rubbed her forehead. “Not that they’re sharing with me. My mother is frantic. His wife flew down last night.”

  “She that lady I saw you with this morning?”

  “Yes, I put her up at the Hilton. I’m going
back over there in a little while to ask some questions as soon as my mother faxes me some pictures of Len.”

  “Boy, I wish you luck. That’s really tough.”

  Allie heard a whistle. Bobby was leaning out the opening motioning to Frank. “I need you over here, Dad.”

  Frank put his cup on the little glass table between the lounge chairs and stood. “Gotta run, but I’ll tell you what. Me and the guys will keep an eye out for anything going on. I mean, we’re around here all day. Maybe we’ll see something.”

  “God, I hope so. I can use all the help I can get.”

  Frank hesitated, and then he reached over and gave her shoulders an awkward hug. “You hang in there, little lady. You don’t deserve all this bad stuff that’s happening to you. You let us know if we can do anything to help.”

  The faxes were waiting for her when she returned downstairs. Ten pictures, all in color. Her mother had come through. Now, she was going to get some answers.

  Twenty-three

  First, she called Cord to tell him about the redheaded courier with the limp. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Cord promised to circulate the information. Then, he cautioned Allie to stay out of the police investigation. As she promised, she was stuffing the faxes into an envelope.

  Minutes later, she was out of the house.

  “Is he still all right?” she asked her aunt.

  “He is. For now.”

  “Is he scared?”

  “He’s terrified.”

  “Can you tell him I’m coming?”

  “I wish I could.”

  Goddamn Sidney Finch. Allie hated him like she’d never hated another human being, even the serial killer who tried to add her to his list of victims. Going after her was one thing—she was getting used to that—but involving an innocent man was too much. Len wasn’t equipped to handle this kind of life. His world had always been protected. The closest he ever came to violence was probably handling a divorce client’s irate husband. Terrified. The word twisted her insides. She’d had her differences with Len, plenty of them, but he didn’t deserve this. And certainly not because someone was doing it to punish his sister.

  Allie’s spirits fell when she saw a different bartender was behind the bar, but he told her Jeff was on his lunch break. Allie ordered a Coke and sat at the bar, prepared to wait as long as necessary. She was halfway through the Coke when Jeff appeared.

  His face lit up when he saw her. “Hi again.”

  “Hi, yourself,” Allie said, returning his smile. “How was your lunch?”

  Jeff’s grin widened. “It’s the best part of this job. I get all my meals free, and the food here is really good.”

  Allie opened the envelope and pulled out the pictures. She saw Jeff’s face go wary. “You can check with your manager if you want,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it. Hotels were notoriously protective of their guests’ privacy.

  “I think it’ll be OK.” He picked up the first picture and frowned. “I remember this man,” he said. “He stopped by here a few times. He wasn’t much of a drinker.”

  That didn’t surprise Allie. She knew Len only drank socially.

  “He had to be carried out of here the last time.”

  That stopped her. “What do you mean?”

  Jeff looked uncomfortable.

  “It’s OK. I’m his sister. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Well, he and this cop were talking about some woman, and the drinks really got to him. He was about to fall off his stool. His friend said he’d get him upstairs to sleep it off.”

  Allie’s heart was stuttering in her chest. “The cop was his friend?” When Jeff nodded, she asked, “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “Well, he was no athlete,” Jeff said. “He was kind of puny. He had dark hair and kind of sharp features, if you know what I mean. And he looked like a wimp. I couldn’t figure how he’d get the guy up to his room without help, but he managed. I guess he was stronger than he looked.”

  “Yes, he is,” Allie said, her voice shaking. It had to be Sidney, but where would he have gotten a uniform? Hadn’t they confiscated those when he was arrested? Did he still have friends at the sheriff’s office? If he did, she was in more danger than she’d realized.

  She thanked Jeff and over-tipped him outrageously before slipping off her stool and heading for her car. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the sheriff’s office. Cord was out, so Allie called Sheryl.

  “Sidney’s got him,” she said without preamble when Sheryl answered. “I talked to the bartender at the Hilton. I showed him a picture of Len. He recognized him.”

  She filled Sheryl in on the rest. “I don’t know where Sidney got a uniform, but I know it was him. Sidney had to drug him. I know Len. He doesn’t drink. He’s too much of a control freak. Well, a beer or two, but he doesn’t get drunk. I tried to call Cord, but he’s out. I’ll leave some pictures of Len in your mailbox. Maybe someone else will recognize him.”

  “Jesus,” was all Sheryl said. Then, “I’ll get the word out. What are you going to do next?”

  Good question. What was she going to do next?

  ■ ■ ■

  Teresa stared at the computer screen. He’d made another withdrawal. If he kept this up, he’d empty her checking account, and Wally would notice and call Cord Arbutten. She had no doubt of that. She had to do something, and fast.

  She checked their savings balance. More than twenty-thousand dollars. Most of that was in a money market, but she could transfer some in to checking. Wally would never notice. She paid the bills. She always had.

  Two clicks and her checking account was ten thousand dollars richer. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “What are you doing?”

  Teresa spun around in her chair. Wally loomed in the doorway, his face thunderous.

  “I’m checking my e-mail,” she said, trying to block the computer screen.

  “On the bank website?”

  Teresa looked back at the screen. The bank logo was obvious with its red, white, and blue. “I paid some bills. Then, I was going to check my e-mail.”

  Wally came over and edged her out of the way. He studied the screen for a minute. With a series of two clicks, the money was back in savings. When he turned around, the look on his face frightened Teresa.

  “You’re coming with me,” he said, pulling her out of the chair.

  “Where?”

  “And I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’ve stopped this.”

  “Where are you taking me? Wally, you’re hurting my arm. Where are we going?”

  He didn’t speak again until they were parked outside the bank. He turned in his seat and looked at her. She recoiled at his expression.

  “We’re going to change our password, and if you say one word in there, I’m going to turn you over to the sheriff for aiding and abetting a criminal. Do you hear me?”

  Their next stop was the sheriff’s office. Wally hadn’t spoken once all the way to Titusville, and Teresa was afraid to anger him. She’d never seen him like this. Maybe the injury to his head had done something to his brain.

  They only had a short wait before they were ushered into Cord’s office.

  “She’s been furnishing Sidney money,” Wally said.

  “I thought you weren’t going to tell…” Her voice trailed off at the look on his face.

  “He came by the house night before last. He did this to me.” He showed Cord his head. “He stole her purse. He has all her credit cards and our bankcard. I changed the password on the bankcard,” Wally said as Cord began to speak, “but that leaves the credit cards. Teresa is going to give you all the information on them.” He glared at her. “If she doesn’t, I’m leaving her here with you. You can lock her up for aiding a felon or impeding an investigation or whatever.”

  “You don’t mean that!”

  His gaze never left her face. “She’s enabled Sidney long enough. She’s turned him into what he is today, a common c
riminal. We’ve both turned him into what he is, but it has to stop. It’s going to stop. Right now.”

  Teresa felt Cord’s eyes boring into her. “We know Sidney is currently involved in a kidnapping. He’s been positively identified. His victim is a prominent attorney from Atlanta. Allie Grainger’s brother. If he harms the man, he’ll get the death penalty.”

  Teresa heard Wally draw in a sharp breath. She couldn’t look at either of them. God, what had they driven him to now? “I don’t have the information here,” she said. “It’s all at home.”

  “I’ll follow you there,” Cord said, standing.

  ■ ■ ■

  Allie found Ella Faye on the pool deck wearing the flimsiest bikini Allie had ever seen, her already tanned body slathered in suntan oil.

  “Working on your tan?” Allie asked.

  Ella Faye jumped. She shaded her eyes, and her mouth formed a little pout. “Well, you said I couldn’t ride with you. What else am I supposed to do?”

  Allie sat down on the next lounge chair. The air was cool, but the sun warmed the skin. Winter in Florida. “Ella Faye, what do you know about Len’s money problems?”

  Ella Faye swung her feet to the deck and sat up, startling several men at the outdoor bar who had been watching her. Allie looked, too, but she couldn’t see any surgical scars. No surprise. For the kind of money her surgeons made, they’d better not leave scars.

  Ella Faye pulled her beach coverup around her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean,” Allie said with exaggerated patience, “how long has he been broke?”

  “I don’t know. A while.”

  “How long a while?”

  “A few months. I don’t know. Maybe a year.”

  “And all this time, this year, you’ve done what to help him?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Did you get a job? Did you cut down on your spending?”

  The pout deepened. “That’s none of your business. And why are you being so mean? It’s not like he was trying to get money from you or anything. He just wanted you to sell that ugly little house.”

  Allie stared at her for a long time before she spoke. “You don’t have a clue what’s going on around you, do you, Ella Faye? The world could come crashing down, and as long as you could still get your tan and your manicures and your breast enhancements, you wouldn’t give a damn, would you?” She stood. “You know, I used to think you and Len deserved one another, but I was wrong. No matter what Len’s been in the past, he deserves someone a lot better than you.”