When the garage door had closed, Missy and Jacob took a seat in the dining nook between the kitchen and the stairs. They stared out the window at the woods.
“It’s so quiet,” Missy said.
Which wasn’t entirely a good thing for Jacob. He already was fidgeting and bouncing his legs. The solitude, while comforting, was also irritating. Nothing would get done out here.
He pulled out his phone and called Gregory, looking to get an update on Quincy. The connection was garbled, each ring interrupted with sharp static, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The world-renowned super sleuth didn’t answer. Jacob set the phone down. “Just trying Gregory,” he told Missy.
She was studying the trees surrounding the back of the house. “Bet there’s all kinds of animals that come around. Deer, raccoons, foxes.”
“I bet,” Jacob said, then added, “Don’t hate me, but I’m going to go look for Quincy.”
Missy’s head snapped to him.
“I have to.”
“Don’t go out there.”
“But what about Quincy? You don’t want him back?”
Missy lowered her head and glared. “That’s a stupid question.”
He flexed his fingers. “I’ll go crazy if I just sit here.”
“So you’re just going to leave me?”
“You can come with.”
She said, “Emmelia didn’t give us a key.”
“So? We can leave it unlocked.”
“Jacob.” Missy cocked her head. “I’m not leaving her house unlocked.”
“Oh.” He’d forgotten that Missy had grown up in cities like Shanghai, New York, and Chicago, where it’d been ingrained into her subconscious that you didn’t leave anything unlocked, not even a house in the hilly forest outside Duluth where the deer outnumbered the people ten to one.
Planting her elbows on the table, Missy said, “Fine. Go.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Just be careful.”
“How about this?” Jacob hopped over to his luggage and yanked out a Twins baseball cap. He then popped the collar of his polo. “And I’ll wear sunglasses. You can’t tell it’s me, can you?”
Missy smiled. “You look like a jackass with that collar.”
Jacob took a selfie, then inspected the photo. “Doesn’t look that bad.”
“I guess.”
“I’ll be careful.” Jacob went over and gave her a kiss. “Wish me luck.”
XVIII.
Day Thirteen, Still Tuesday
Three Dead
The house Xiaolian hadn’t bothered searching for the night before was a ways out. She had to admit, Rubén had chosen a good spot—it was quite the hidden little gem and would keep the attention to a minimum—but she hated the woods. No matter where in the world, it always appeared as the same sea of homogenous, disorienting, rustling green.
Two years earlier, she’d been tracking a Shanghai businessman fleeing for the Russian border, and he’d nearly lost her in the northern forests of China. She’d eventually caught up with him, dropping the man facedown in the pine needles, but that’d been more luck than skill.
She’d hoped the hit on Jacob White could’ve been a simple, one-and-done job at the Days Inn (basically a repeat of the Denver hit a couple of days earlier), but that morning’s events had ruined any chance of that.
She and Avispón’s sexually spent crew had headed up into the hills, away from the lake and society, and her contact in China, KA-4F, had begun monitoring the hotels, motels, and bed-and-breakfasts up and down the forested shoreline.
Another adjustment that hadn’t been part of the original plan had been the kidnappings. A few variables just needed to be removed from the equation.
By the time they reached the house, the man had stopped bleeding, the numerous tiny puncture wounds clotted and dried. Neither she nor ROD were responsible for those, though. The kidnapped man’s attacker had been a little hairless dog, which David identified as a Mexican Xolo (he’d killed a girl in Guadalajara who’d had something similar).
Xiaolian hadn’t intended on grabbing Gregory until after they’d inspected Rubén’s house in the woods, but by some weird stroke of fate, they’d crossed paths with him on the way there—a by-product of a city with only eighty-three square miles and a population that didn’t reach ninety thousand, she supposed.
They’d been sitting at a light, the lake behind them, ROD still arguing about who had hit the TV first, when Gregory’s Nissan flew through the intersection. It crossed into oncoming traffic, swerved, barely avoided a traffic pole, then skidded to a stop near the median facing the wrong way.
Inside the car, Gregory (whom she recognized from the photos KA-4F had grabbed off his private Facebook page) was going batshit crazy, swinging and swiping his arms. A hornet? A spider? He got hold of something in his lap and flipped it into the backseat before zipping the Nissan around and taking off.
Xiaolian caught up to him, and when David flashed his gun, he pulled over. Rubén and Oscar summarily escorted the bleeding, sickly pale man to the SUV while David got into the Nissan and followed them off into the woods. (The Xolo left David alone, apparently utterly spent.)
The Nissan now sat in the garage beside the SUV. ROD was in the kitchen raiding the cabinets. Gregory and Xiaolian, in the basement, looked at each other.
She’d tied him to a support pole. This back corner of the basement had been sectioned off with a few two-by-fours and drywall, and he was sitting on the dirty vinyl with his legs splayed in front of him, defeated.
Xiaolian leaned against the doorway after explaining to Gregory what they knew: he worked for Emmelia; he’d been hired by Tiff to find White; he’d been in contact with White; and he wasn’t to be trusted. His face seemed to redden as she went down that list, but it was hard to tell given that the bite marks were still as raw as they were.
“Did Tiff tell you to back off?” Xiaolian said. “We told her to tell you to back off.”
“She didn’t say anything,” he insisted.
“She say we were coming?”
He shook his head and told her about Tiff’s “cheating husband” ruse. He pulled his legs up to his chest, an attempt to put a barrier between them.
Xiaolian held up his cell phone. “You missed some calls. A 612 number. That’s Minneapolis. Is that Jacob White?”
He jerked his head back in shock. “Why would that be him?”
Xiaolian didn’t know what angle Gregory had managed to orchestrate for himself, but she could always spot a liar. “It’s not him?” She read off the digits.
“I don’t know that number.”
Pushing from the doorway, she went and crouched in front of his face. “Where is he?”
“No freakin’ clue,” he said. His breath smelled of cinnamon and syrup.
Xiaolian changed tactics. “Why’d you take that dog?” She motioned over her shoulder at the purple dog, which was now tied to the stairway railing outside the room.
“I was going to get a reward. He’s some special breed.”
“You kidnap dogs to get rewards?”
“No!” Genuine shock. “I found him.”
“What’d you do to him? Why’d he get so wound up?”
“I didn’t do anything. He’s just like that. A little shit.”
“Okay.” She left the room and returned with the agitated Xolo. She shook it to get it snarling and snapping even more, then tossed it at Gregory and shut the door.
After a few minutes of yipping and hollering, Xiaolian went back in. The dog came at her, but with a sidestep and a kick, she sent the monster tumbling away. Before it could pick itself up and scurry back for revenge, she slammed the door.
“That was uncalled for.” Gregory sat himself upright against the pole. Fresh blood trickled down his arms, collecting at the elbows.
“Where’s Jacob?” Xiaolian repeated.
“I don’t know,” Gregory huffed. “Tiffany fucked it all up. It’s her fault.”
“I’ll talk to her again later. Tell me this, what car does White have?” She knew—her contact had access to the motor vehicle registrations—but she wanted to see how he would answer. It’d give her a baseline.
“One of those hatchback things. The small ones. A Honda, I think. It’s red.”
“Uh-uh.” His demeanor hadn’t changed, which unfortunately meant he was likely telling the truth about White’s whereabouts. “But you don’t know where he went?”
“No.”
“And what about this 612 number?”
“I don’t know. Like you said, it’s a Minneapolis number. Could be him. Could be anyone. Maybe just a wrong number. It happens.”
“‘Could be him’? How so?”
Gregory straightened up some more. “Listen, I found myself in a situation. I was just trying to get some money out of it.”
“Go on.”
He took a breath, then began. “Yes, Tiffany hired me to find the guy, but before that, some publicist in LA hired me to run security for him. You know, like watch his back? So she’s paying me to be his security detail, and then Tiffany starts paying me to find him, her ‘cheating husband.’ I’ve got no clue what’s going on. Never really did, but I figured I could milk some cash from it. And I wasn’t protecting him or anything. I seriously didn’t know who he was until the other day. And even then, I didn’t know you guys were coming. No one told me. The only thing I ever heard was about some guy coming up from Chicago. But that didn’t have anything to do with Jacob, so—”
“So why’s he calling you?”
“Probably about his dog. Tiffany took his dog, and I offered to find it for him. For a fee. You know, ABC? Always be selling?”
“Closing. Always be closing,” Xiaolian corrected.
“That’s it!”
Xiaolian was putting the pieces together. “So you went looking for his dog—”
“Quincy.”
“Quincy, and instead found this Xolo.”
“Basically.”
“Call the number back. Tell him you’ve got Quincy.”
“What if it’s not Jacob?”
“Then hang up, nitwit.”
“And if it’s him, then what?”
“Get him to meet you.”
“Where? And don’t I need to have his dog first?”
Xiaolian left the room.
“Please don’t,” Gregory cried.
The Xolo was sitting by the glass door of the walkout basement, looking at the woods. It stood at the sight of her, but she growled, “Don’t you fucking try it,” and the dog paused.
It seemed to know she had no use for it, and if he came at her again, she’d knock its head off with one grand kick of her boot.
The Xolo sat back down, blinking its beady eyes and licking its hairless purple snout.
Xiaolian crossed the basement to the other corner, another room constructed with a few two-by-fours and drywall, and opened the door; Tiff looked up from her spot on the floor.
Avispón had first told them about this woman a couple of days ago, saying she’d tagged along with his hit man from Chicago. Then yesterday, Emmelia had given them a bit more detail. Xiaolian had immediately assumed Tiff had been behind that morning’s attack, so when they were leaving the Motel 6, she had David call the woman. It’d taken a few choice words, but Tiff eventually did what she was told and had been waiting for them at the house. Unfortunately because she was still threatening anyone who stood in her way of exacting revenge on White, she was now tied to a pole herself.
Xiaolian ignored Tiff’s string of profanities and picked up the fawn-colored pug the woman had brought with her. Now it makes sense. The dog shivered as she carried it to Gregory’s room.
“Holy shit,” Gregory blurted. “How’d you do that?”
“You’re going to take a picture with Quincy, then get Jacob to meet you here.”
“Here? This house?”
“1925 Middle Road.”
Gregory repeated the address. “When?”
“Whenever he can.” Xiaolian set the pug in Gregory’s lap, then went around and untied him. “I trust you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Of course not.” Gregory pulled his hands around and grasped Quincy. “I think he peed a little.”
“Oh, well.” Xiaolian handed him his phone. “Take the picture.”
Gregory rearranged the pug, pulling his face close to his, and snapped the selfie. Xiaolian then set Quincy aside. The dog gave a grunt but remained where he’d been placed.
She waved her hand at Gregory and said, “Call him.”
Gregory dialed, then held the phone near his chin with the speaker on.
A voice responded, “This is Jacob.”
“Hey. JW. This is Gregory. From earlier?”
“Yeah, I know who you are.”
“Oh. Great. Listen. So I think I found Quincy.”
A moment of silence. “Really?”
Xiaolian whispered, “Say he was in a park somewhere.”
“Yeah. He was just chilling at the old folks home down the road.” Gregory tapped the screen. “I’m sending you a pic.”
Upon receiving the photo evidence, Jacob’s response was the same as Gregory’s when Xiaolian had walked in with Quincy in her arms: “Holy shit.”
“So that’s him?”
“Good job, man. Where are you?”
“At home. 1925 Middle Road.”
Another pause. “Okay.”
“I get that finder’s fee you promised?”
“Uh, yeah, of course.”
To Xiaolian, White’s response sounded off, almost dishonest. Dishonest or suspicious. She motioned for Gregory to wrap it up.
“Can you stop by in the next hour or so?” Gregory asked.
“Ah, sure. 1925?”
“Middle Road,” Gregory repeated.
“Sure. See you soon.”
Xiaolian took the phone and secured the rope around Gregory’s wrists again.
“Can’t I go now?” he protested.
“You’ll go when this is cleaned up.” She picked up Quincy and left the room.
The purple dog disregarded their previous understanding and came at her.
“You little shit,” she muttered, drawing her foot back, but she kind of admired its spunkiness, so instead of knocking its head off, she stepped aside and booted the Xolo in the butt, straight into Gregory’s room.
“Oh, come on,” he hollered as the door slammed shut.
Xiaolian scratched Quincy on the head, put him in the room with Tiffany, then headed upstairs.
~
When Gregory called, Jacob was circling Enger Park. He pulled over to check the selfie, and while he couldn’t find any evidence of manipulation, he was still suspicious. Gregory was a selfish sneak and a fool, and everything he did was suspect.
Then Gregory gave him the address, and Jacob’s bullshit meter went sky high. Emmelia lived on Middle Road. That house was one of the neighbors. He hurried back to Missy.
“What’re we looking at?” Missy asked after he’d stormed inside and steered her to the living room window.
Jacob craned his neck up and around, trying to see through the tress. Only vague bits of the house across the street were visible, though. No windows. No people. “That’s 1925 Middle Road,” Jacob said, having confirmed the address on the mailbox as he’d driven past.
“Okay. So?”
He stepped side to side, utilizing the entirety of the picture window. There was a car in the driveway, but nothing more than the backend showed, a nondescript tire and the rear bumper. Jacob finally told Missy, “Gregory found Quincy.”
She clapped. “No way.”
“Says that’s his house.”
“Huh?”
“Exactly.”
“Did you tell him we were here?”
“No,” he said.
“So he lives across the street?”
“Possibly.”
“Just call the police. Don’t mess
around with this.”
“Thought about it,” Jacob said. “But he’s not going to like that. What if he panics?”
“Panics?”
“He tried to sell me some opioids. Maybe he’s a drug dealer on the side. When the cops show up, he could panic.”
“And what? Turn it into a hostage situation?”
“Who knows with this guy?”
Missy grumbled.
“Something’s off about him. Maybe I should just go over and peek in the windows. See what’s happening. At least then we’ll know if it’s actually him. And if he really has Quincy.”
“You want to know if that’s his house? Here.” Missy grabbed her phone and brought up the county’s property website. She entered the 1925 address, and a three-page report popped up. “Terrance P. Hamilton,” Missy announced. “That’s who owns the house. Twenty-eight hundred square feet. Walkout basement. Estimated value: five hundred thousand.” Eyebrow cocked, she showed Jacob. “That isn’t even his house. Call the police.”
“Maybe he’s renting it. Or maybe Terrance is his dad?”
She wiggled the phone in his face. “With a different last name?”
“An uncle on his mom’s side? I don’t know.” Jacob pushed her hand away.
“Why are you being like this?”
“The guy says he has Quincy,” Jacob said. “Why don’t I go get Quincy? Just take charge and handle the situation?”
“Because you don’t have to.” Missy went back to her phone. She tapped, swiped, and put it to her ear. “Yes, hello. This is Missy Chan. Missy Chan and Jacob White.”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She ignored him. She said, “We lost our dog earlier. Some guy says he found it, except he wants us to go to his house. Can an officer go instead?”
Jacob stepped back from the window and flopped over the arm of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
“Thanks. Bye.” Missy glanced over her shoulder. “They’re sending a car over.”
Jacob put his hands behind his head. “Fine. Tell me when they get here. When it turns into Waco, I’m going to record it.”
“Ugh.” Missy sat in the armchair next to the couch. “It could be a setup. You ever think about that?”
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