Guilt Game

by L. J. Sellers

  Jenny and her daughter rushed toward each other and embraced. Pangs of joy and jealousy tugged at Rox’s heart, but she stayed focused on Blackstone. He’d moved in, keeping himself within a foot of the girl. A moment later, he grabbed Emma’s elbow and pulled her to his side. He said something to Mrs. Carson that Rox couldn’t hear, then he and Emma turned and walked toward the street. Her client hurried to follow.

  Where the hell were they going? Rox scooted out of the store, trying to look casual as she followed. This wasn’t the plan. They were supposed to sit down and visit for an hour. But at least Blackstone hadn’t taken the satchel full of cash and run, dragging Emma with him. Out of the corner of her eye, Rox saw a big MAX vehicle coming up the busy street. No! She quickened her pace, but the threesome was fifty feet ahead and moving rapidly. The bus stopped, and they climbed on behind a teenage boy. As Rox broke into a run, the door closed, and the bus lurched forward. Damn!

  She noted the vehicle’s route number, pulled out her phone, and called Marty. He picked up immediately. “What’s happening?”

  “Blackstone, Emma, and Mrs. Carson just got on a bus, headed down Multnomah. I didn’t know how to stop them.”

  “Dammit. What’s the bus number? Bowman’s headed our way. Maybe he can intercept Blackstone when they get off.”

  “That could be anywhere. My client paid for an hour with her daughter, so they might ride for a while.” She started toward her car.

  “Or Blackstone might take the money and get off at the next stop.”

  Rox spun back around. No, she couldn’t get there on foot in time, and her Cube’s location was in the wrong direction. “Call Bowman, but I’m not optimistic.”

  She hung up and hurried to her car. There was probably nothing she could do now to improve the situation, but she would feel better if she were mobile and able to respond. Once she was on the street, Rox headed in the direction the bus had gone, hoping to hear something from Marty.

  But they struck out. Twenty-five minutes after boarding the bus, Mrs. Carson called, audibly upset. “Sorry, but he said we had to do it his way.” She pulled in a ragged breath. “He said I had to compromise and give him the money halfway through the visitation. So I did. And they jumped off at the next stop.”

  “Did you see which direction they went?”

  “No. The bastard cheated me, but what can I do? I willingly made a donation to a charity.” A small sob escaped her. “Dave is going to be mad.”

  Rox couldn’t help her with that. “What did you and Emma talk about?”

  “She asked about family and friends and how they were doing, so that took some time. And she told me a few things about her life in the charity.”

  Bowman hadn’t made contact, so Rox made a turn, heading for home. “Like what? Anything helpful?”

  “No. Just that she has kitchen duty and has learned to cook and garden.” A pause. “She seems kind of happy, even at peace with herself.”

  That surprised Rox. “Are you having second thoughts about extracting her?”

  “No. He’s a predator, and my girl is too thin.” Another stifled cry. “She also has bruises on her arms.”

  A flash of rage. “Did you ask her about them?”

  “No. He was right there, listening to everything. I didn’t want him to pull her away before my time was up.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get her out.” Rox took a deep breath to calm herself. “We’ve located the owner of the land, and I’m plotting a way to get Blackstone away from the work camp long enough to go in and grab her.”

  “What if she just goes back?”

  “That’s what the deprogramming is for. But initially I think I can convince her to try another form of self-sacrifice.” Rox didn’t want to have this conversation yet. “I’ve got to get to work on plan B.” She started to apologize for the failure of the meeting, then realized it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t set it up and couldn’t have done anything to change the outcome. “We’ll be in touch.”

  As she pulled into her driveway, her personal phone rang, and she answered without looking at the ID. “Hello.”

  “This is Denise, from the Greer Neurology Clinic. You had an appointment at two. Are you on your way?”

  Damn! She’d completely lost track of it in the rush to meet Blackstone. Oh wait, she tried to cancel it. “I called yesterday and left a message saying I couldn’t make it.” She hoped they didn’t bill her for it.

  “Oh. I don’t know what happened. We can reschedule for next week. Can you come in Wednesday, the twenty-sixth, at two?”

  “Sure. Will you text me with a reminder?”

  “We’ll send an automated phone call the day before.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” With any luck, this case would be over by then.

  Rox shut off the car and hurried inside. She needed to pee and drink another cup of coffee—the fluid exchange. Before it finished brewing, Marty pounded on her door.

  “Clear,” she called from the kitchen.

  He bustled in, scowling. “Pour me one too.” He sat down and pulled off his Blazers cap. “I wonder how many other parents Blackstone has shaken down that way.”

  “Probably a few. But I doubt many can pony up ten grand.”

  “It’s worth his time even for five hundred or a thousand.”

  Rox put both cups on the table and sat down. “But he can probably only get away with it once for each girl.” She thought about Blackstone’s recruitment tactics. “I wonder if he specifically targets young women with both guilt and family money.”

  Marty shook his head, his lip curled. “We need to close the door on this lowlife. Let’s come up with a sting that rescues Emma and puts him out of business.”

  She’d been thinking the same thing. “I think it’ll take too much time. Blackstone is careful. Let’s just get the girl first, then work the second objective.”

  “Maybe we could offer him a donation.” Marty shifted, and his eyes sparked with eagerness. “Pretend to be one of the girls’ parents and offer him money in exchange for a visit.”

  “I like it.” But she had serious doubts. “We don’t know the names of any other members. I could try again at the soup kitchen to find out.” Rox sipped her coffee. “But coming so soon after his outreach to the Carsons, he might be suspicious.”

  Marty looked a little deflated. “But a donation from somewhere—say, a church—might work.”

  “Maybe.” But it still seemed too soon, too obvious. “Did you track down the owner of the land?”

  Her stepdad nodded, perking up. “Charles Zumwalt lets the group live there nearly free. He considers it a charitable donation to a good cause. Plus, by keeping the utilities on and the landscaping maintained, he figures the occupants are actually helping the property retain its value.”

  Interesting concept. “Did you tell him what Blackstone is really like?”

  “Zumwalt didn’t want to hear it. He defended him and hung up.”

  Damn. “I’ll bet the owner writes off the rent value as a donation somehow.”

  “So we’ll report all of them to the IRS.”

  They drank their coffee in silence for a moment. Rox came back to the idea of shafting Blackstone while simultaneously extracting Emma. “What if we force all of them out? With a phony evacuation demand, for example? I’d like to disrupt the whole operation and rescue all of the girls if we can.”

  “I would too. But the scheme won’t work if Blackstone tries to verify it.”

  She shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot.” What else would force someone to move? An eviction. “Here’s a long-game idea. We make an offer to buy the land. Then Zumwalt has to give his tenants notice.”

  Marty let out a loud laugh. “We would have to have a letter of financing for Zumwalt to take the offer seriously. Unless you’re hiding a pile of money, we’d be hard pressed to buy a cheap trailer right now.”

  Good point. They both had retirement accounts, but banks didn’t consider those accessible inco
me. They needed a rich proxy buyer. Rox snapped her fingers. “The Carsons have money. They can make the offer.”

  Marty cocked his head. “Then what? They don’t really want to own twenty acres of rural land, do they?”

  “We just need Zumwalt to give the charity an eviction notice. Force Blackstone to start hustling for a new place to live.” Rox stood. This could work. “You and I can take turns watching the work camp. When Blackstone leaves to look at other properties, we make a move on Emma.”

  Marty shook his head. “I know I said I was all in, but we really don’t want to do a straight-up kidnapping. We need to get Emma to come out willingly right after Blackstone leaves.”

  “I know. We will. But we need a good reason to access the property.” Rox set her empty cup on the counter, eager to get going. “We have time to work on plan B while we get the real estate deal moving. First, I have to call the Carsons and get them on board.”

  Marty pushed out of his chair, moving slowly. “I’m going to grab a power nap while I wait for the caffeine to kick in.”

  She gave his shoulder a friendly punch. “Don’t get old on me yet. I don’t trust anyone else to do this work with me.”

  His eyes seemed to tighten. Pain? Sadness? “What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He popped her on the arm in return. “I just stayed up too late playing poker. Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll be back on the job.”

  She watched him walk out and tried not to worry. He was only sixty-five. And pretty damn healthy except for the slightly high blood pressure. But most cops had that. A dark statistic crossed her mind. Many had short life-spans after putting down the badge. Rox shook it off. She reached for her work phone to call Jenny Carson, but her personal cell started ringing.

  Her CIA buddy. “Hey, Sergio.”

  “Hey, MacFarlane.”

  No one had called her that since she’d left the CIA. When she’d been a cop, her fellow officers had called her Rocks to tease her about being hardheaded. “You find anything on Blackstone’s military career?”

  “Nothing serious. A few reprimands for fistfights. Both with another guy in his squad, Greg Loffland, who left the military around the same time. He was on that list I gave you earlier and lives in Portland. So Blackstone might still be in touch with him.”

  She hadn’t realized Loffland was in the area. But he was another possible wedge, someone who might hold a grudge against Blackstone. She would have to sound Loffland out. “Do you have contact information?”

  “Address and phone.” Sergio rattled off the numbers, knowing she could process them quickly.

  “Thank you. So how’s the job? Is Kepart still snapping gum in your ear while he calls to report intel?” They both loved and hated working with the Istanbul-based agent.

  A long pause. “He died of a heart attack two months ago.”

  No! Damn. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Why hadn’t anyone informed her? Because she’d been gone from the agency for more than a year, and it was a secretive organization. If Kepart’s family hadn’t known about his work, then agents couldn’t exactly show up at his funeral service. They had to mourn privately. Rox didn’t know what else to say. “I hope you’ll stay in touch.”

  “Always.” Sergio paused, and she could visualize him smiling. “I have to go.”

  “Thanks again.” Rox hung up and keyed in the number he’d given her. The call went to voice mail. “This is Greg Loffland. Leave me a message.”

  A no-nonsense guy. She liked that. “This is Karina Jones. I’m an investigator, and I’d like to meet with you. This is about a military incident involving you and one of your squad mates. Please call me.” That should get his attention. She hung up and contacted Jenny Carson.

  Her client didn’t answer but called right back instead. “Karina? Sorry, I was on the phone with my mother-in-law.” Jenny sounded upset again. “I got the cash from her this morning, and she’s not happy with me for actually letting Blackstone have it.”

  Oh hell. Did Dave Carson’s money really belong to his mother? “Is the loss a problem?”

  “It shouldn’t be, but rich people can be stingy. Maybe that’s why they’re rich.” Jenny seemed to get control of herself. “Sorry to be so emotional. My life was simpler before I married Dave. Sometimes I think this situation is my karma for stealing him from a friend.” A long sigh. “And I wonder if Emma would be better off if she’d had a working-class childhood.”

  Again, Rox was flummoxed for how to respond. She stuck to the point of her call. “I have an idea for how to get her back. The scenario involves you and Dave making an offer on the land where Blackstone lives.”

  “How does that help?” A little annoyed now.

  “An accepted offer would force the current owner to give the charity an eviction notice. That will rattle Blackstone and force him to leave the property, giving me an opportunity to confront and extract Emma.”

  “I don’t know.” Jenny’s skepticism was thick. “Real estate transactions are slow, and the owner may negotiate to protect his tenants.”

  “They don’t pay rent.”

  “That’s even worse. Blackstone can go to court and demand a sixty-day notice.”

  Damn. That was news to her. “Talk it over with Dave and get back to me. I have another idea I’m working on too.”

  Jenny hesitated. “Can you help me get the ten thousand back?”

  Seriously? “I really doubt that. Sorry.” Rox hung up. Maybe it was time to resort to the phony inheritance scheme. It had worked with her last client. No, Blackstone was smart and suspicious. Rox had second thoughts about the ex-army buddy as well. He would probably be loyal to Blackstone, and meeting him in person could be a mistake. If he passed along her description to the cult leader, it might work against her, especially if this case ended up in court. She would wear a disguise when she met with him. Maybe the blonde wig this time, in case he was like Blackstone.

  CHAPTER 15

  Later that evening, Rox opened the fridge and realized she hadn’t bought groceries in a while. Emma’s case and the magnet treatments had occupied her thoughts. Maybe she should order pizza for her and Marty. He would love that, but his doctor wouldn’t.

  Her phone rang in the other room, and she hurried to pick it up. Kyle. Finally! “Hey, there.”

  “Hi.” A pause. “Everything okay? You sound different.”

  “I’m just glad to hear from you.”

  “I’m sorry it took forever to call you back. But I’ve been working Bethany Grant’s homicide nonstop.”

  “At least you were able to ID her.”

  “Blackstone gave us her name.” Kyle lowered his voice. “I have time for a quick dinner if you want to join me.”

  Yes! “I’d love that.” She would escape eating tuna salad and hopefully get some intel about Bethany’s murder. “Sweet Basil in twenty minutes?”

  “See you there.” He hung up.

  The abruptness bothered her. Would he always be that way? In the early stages, she’d been attracted to his direct, non-sentimental nature, but a little verbal affection would be nice.

  At the restaurant, she asked to be seated, knowing Kyle might be late. She picked up the menu just for fun and looked it over. Should she order something new? Maybe. She caught a waiter’s attention and ordered an appetizer that looked interesting.

  Kyle was late as expected, but she didn’t mind. She’d worked as a police officer, so she accepted the unpredictable nature of his job. And damn he was good looking when he smiled. He apologized as he slid into the booth.

  “You’re fine.” She glanced at the menu. “I ordered an appetizer called pockets of love just for the heck of it.”

  “Good. I’m starving. I missed lunch again.”

  “How’s the case shaping up?”

  “Completely confidential?”

  “Always.”

  He leaned forward and said softly, “Blackstone has an alibi for the time of the murder, so we can’t get a search wa
rrant for his property. Also, the MO matches the I-5 Killer.”

  Blackstone probably wasn’t the killer. Rox was both relieved and disappointed. “Did you get inside the work camp at all?”

  “No.” Kyle gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry, but I didn’t see Emma or even ask about her.”

  “It’s okay. We know she’s fine because she called her parents.”

  The waiter, a young man with horrible acne, brought the appetizer and coffee for Kyle. He’d waited on them a few times. “Ready to order?” He glanced at Rox. “The usual?”

  “No, I think I’ll try the beef stir-fry, the first one listed.”

  The waiter smiled. “Good choice.”

  Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Feeling adventurous, huh?” He turned to the waiter. “I’ll have the house special.”

  When they had privacy again, Rox told Kyle about Emma’s donation request and the meeting with her mother. “Blackstone took off the minute he got the money. Was any of that illegal?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Not unless he fails to report the money on the charity’s income statement.”

  Rox made a mental note to call the IRS about Sister Love. “What else did you learn about Blackstone? Or Bethany’s murder? If you can share it.”

  Kyle lowered his voice again. “One of the members says Bethany was sneaking out to hook up with a neighborhood boy. We’re still looking for him.”

  That surprised her. Bethany had sounded so pious at the soup kitchen. “That explains why she left the work camp. What’s the theory? That the I-5 Killer picked her up while she was on her way to see the boyfriend?”

  “Something like that. We’ll see what the kid has to say.” Kyle sipped his coffee. “When we find him. There aren’t many houses out there, but a door-to-door canvass of the whole area would be ridiculously time consuming. We have to stay focused on identifying the serial killer.”