Fatal Game

by Diane Capri

  In the early days, Jess had seriously wondered if Thelma was actually the owner of Taboo who employed Carter as a decoy. She smiled as Jess approached and held out an envelope.

  Jess frowned.

  “Ticket and boarding pass, dear,” Thelma said.

  “Do I need a ticket?”

  She nodded toward Carter’s office. “I’ve never heard you turn him down before, so I figured I’d save a few minutes.”

  “I just got back last night. I’ve got a couple of appointments scheduled and piles of laundry to do. Does a few minutes make a difference?”

  Thelma tapped her watch. “Ten twenty-two. It’s the last flight today with a first-class aisle seat.” She raised her eyebrows with a mischievous grin. “Or you could go coach tonight. Red eye. Middle seat?”

  “Ten twenty-two works. I’ll make a couple of calls.” Jess took the envelope and stashed it in her pocket.

  Carter was talking on the phone. Between sentences, he held up an index finger to indicate she should wait. He spoke a few more moments before punching the phone’s off button and waved Jess in with a flourish.

  He stood up. “Jess. Long time, no see.”

  “It’s been three weeks.”

  He laughed. “Ah, yes. But in our business? Half an hour can seem like years.”

  He walked over to a long table where thin stacks of paper were lined up. He went for the stack closest to him and handed it to Jess. “Remember Dr. Donald Warner? The famous Arizona heart surgeon?”

  Jess nodded. “Convicted last year for the kidnap and murder of his wife. And the felony murder of his chauffeur.”

  Thelma walked in and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of each of them. “Horrible man,” she said.

  “Maybe,” Carter said, raising his cup and lowering his chin simultaneously. “And maybe not.”

  Thelma glared at him.

  He waved her out and turned his attention to Jess. “There was plenty of evidence to support the jury’s felony murder verdict on the driver. But the wife’s body was never found, and Warner still swears he didn’t kill her.”

  Jess flipped through the papers, which were copies of short news accounts of the trial, mostly. “Has the wife’s body turned up?”

  “Maybe. Which is why you’re here. It looks like there’s more to this story than we knew.”

  “There always is.”

  “Right. Stay with me here.” He settled into his chair. “A stolen van caused a traffic pile-up in Santa Irene, Arizona, ten days ago. Three fatalities, including a cop. Police were all over the scene in a matter of minutes, but the driver of the stolen van got away on foot.”

  “They didn’t find the driver?”

  Carter shook his head. “DNA everywhere, though. Including a lot of blood. Because of the fatalities, and the dead cop, all the trace evidence was fast tracked. When the processing was finished, they realized that among the blood samples they collected was Karen Warner’s blood.”

  “So, Warner’s wife is alive after all?” Jess nodded slowly. She covered cases where the wrongfully accused were convicted of murder. Not often did convicts rightfully proclaim innocence, but it happened too frequently to suit Jess because it meant the wrong man was behind bars while the real killer walked free. “Dr. Warner is serving a prison term he doesn’t deserve.”

  “Maybe, I said.” Carter finished his coffee and plopped the cup onto his desk with a thud. “This is where it gets more complicated. It turns out Karen Warner had a twin sister.”

  “I remember that from the original case.” Jess nodded. “Identical twins, identical DNA.”

  “Bingo.”

  “So, was it the allegedly dead wife or the sister driving the stolen van?”

  “That’s the question. Should have an easy answer. Just ask the sister, right?” Carter shrugged. “No can do because the sister has gone missing.”

  Jess cocked her head and frowned. “When was the sister last seen?”

  “Melissa Green was a recluse, I guess. Not a big socialite. But there are witness reports from a few weeks ago. Nothing since then.”

  “Absolutely no one has seen her for a few weeks? Not the mailman or the paperboy or even the guy who cuts the grass?”

  “Seems not. She lived alone. No close neighbors.” Carter shook his head. “There is no car in her garage, and her house is closed up.”

  “Has anyone searched the house?”

  “Now that they have a firm report on the DNA from the van, and figured out the connections, local police are searching the sister’s house this morning.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “Which is why I have a ticket on the very next flight to Arizona.”

  “It’s strange, don’t you think? Donald Warner’s wife goes missing, and then months after he’s found guilty and sentenced to prison for her murder, her identical twin sister goes missing.” Carter smiled. “What are the odds?”

  Jess couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “There’s no sign of the sister? No plane tickets? Credit cards? Rental cars?”

  Carter picked up his Mont Blanc and twirled it absentmindedly through his fingers. “No, no, no, and no.”

  Jess flipped through more of the papers. When she saw photos of the man who called himself Hades, the hideous scars on his face sent a quick spasm up her spine. Below the news reports of the van wreck, she saw witness statements, photographs, and police evidence from Donald Warner’s trial. “Does Warner have a motive?”

  “For getting rid of his wife?”

  “Or his wife’s sister.”

  “Possible, I guess.” Carter shook his head. “But not from what I’ve heard.”

  “What else have you heard?”

  “You don’t have a lot of time if you’re going to catch that plane.” He pointed at the papers with his Mont Blanc. “Everything I know is in there. Call me if you have questions.”

  Jess leaned back and ticked off options on her fingers, thinking aloud. “Either Warner arranged the sister’s disappearance. Or he didn’t do the deed, but someone else has a grudge against some combination of him, the wife, and the sister. Or it’s all one big coincidence.”

  “Or something else entirely.” Carter smiled and folded his hands on the desk. “I’m not worried. You’ll sort it all out.”

  “If Warner’s not guilty of his wife’s murder, he doesn’t deserve to be doing prison time for that crime.” She looked at the sheaf of papers. “And I don’t like to leave a killer walking free.”

  “Who does? But right now, we don’t know.” He raised his eyebrows. “Could be there’s an innocent man behind bars. Or could be there is a killer on the loose, and the last option is…let’s call it a human-interest story.”

  “Only two out of three falls in my wheelhouse.”

  “As close as we can expect to get in this business.” He smiled and turned his attention to his ringing phone. “I’ve already got Mandy working on setting up an interview with David Warner after you talk to the cops at the sister’s place.”

  She tapped the first-class ticket in her hand. “Gotta go. Not much time to catch my flight.”

  On the way out, she grabbed Mandy. “Walk with me.”

  “Sure. What’s up?” Mandy’s legs were longer than a sultry summer afternoon. Jess found herself hustling to stay alongside her assistant.

  “I had scheduled an appointment with Trent this afternoon to discuss his progress on Peter’s case.” Jess found herself slightly out of breath and slowed her pace. Mandy seemed to be loping like a giraffe until they reached the elevator and punched the down button. “Can you let him know I’m on my way out of town and I’ll catch up with him when I get back?”

  “Of course. But I saw Trent last night.” Mandy blushed, which was a first. She was straightforward and plain-spoken. Jess had never seen her embarrassed before. Her relationship with Trent Brennan must have heated up a bit since Jess saw them last.

  “You really like this guy, don’t you?” Jess teased as they entered the elevator.


  Mandy cleared her throat. “As I was saying, Trent said he’s read all the files, and he’s been following up on those leads you sent him, but he hasn’t had any luck.”

  Jess nodded. She wasn’t surprised. Her son had been taken more than a dozen years ago. She’d added Trent to her investigative team because fresh eyes could sometimes see things others more jaded did not. Trent hadn’t been on the team very long. She breathed in a little patience.

  When the elevator doors opened at the garage level, Jess said, “No need to get out. I’m in a rush anyway. Just pass along the message for me, and I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “You bet,” Mandy replied as Jess hurried into the garage and toward her car.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Monday, May 22

  Santa Irene, Arizona

  Hades opened the basement door of the Lawson house and descended the steps from inside the garage to the long and narrow storage space underground. Pony and Shorty followed.

  The low ceiling was lined with three bare fluorescent lights. There were no windows. Boxes were stacked in the corner and garden tools hung on the walls. The only furniture was an old table flanked by two scarred kitchen chairs.

  The basement was only used by the lawn crew. Nothing about it suggested that either Simon or Natalie Lawson had ever set foot in the place.

  Hades grinned. He’d waited for the right time to handle the Lawsons. Imprisoning them underground appealed to Hades, god of the underworld.

  Even better, Simon and Natalie Lawson weren’t simply locked in the basement. Pony had drilled two tie-downs six feet apart in the concrete floor. Each handcuffed wrist had been secured to one tie-down, and each handcuffed ankle secured to the other. Tape sealed their mouths. A small hole cut in the center allowed them to breathe and to swallow small amounts of food and water. Thick black felt was taped over their eyes.

  They had been left in the dark overnight. Hades had found this process softened the resolve of the most determined prisoners.

  He knelt beside Natalie and removed her blindfold. She blinked and glowered at him.

  He gestured to Pony and Shorty. The two men pulled out knives. Short stubby knives with a continuous curve through the handle and blade. Karambits. Compact and versatile, they were designed for close quarter encounters.

  “Try anything, and my friends will kill you,” Hades said, and he meant the threat literally.

  Natalie glowered, but said nothing.

  Hades removed Simon’s blindfold. He didn’t speak, simply stared, his forehead wrinkled with fear.

  Hades released their arms from the tie-downs, leaving the cuffs in place on their wrists.

  The pair sat up, massaging aching limbs.

  Hades drew up a wooden box and sat at eye level. “We need to talk.”

  Simon Lawson swallowed but kept silent.

  “You will give us your money,” Hades said. “All of it.”

  Simon sniffed. “I told you our password last night. You’ve already emptied our bank account.”

  Hades shook his head. He hadn’t withdrawn the easy money yet. He’d only made a couple of small transfers.

  He shrugged. “What is in your bank account is a pittance of your ready cash. You have at least three million in other accounts.”

  Simon frowned. “But I can’t get at it. It’s a retirement account. Restricted.”

  “Don’t give me that crap,” Hades shouted and noted how his voice reverberated in the enclosed basement. Natalie Lawson’s eyes widened, and her body began to tremble. Hades softened his tone. “It’s your money, Simon. You can withdraw it at any time.”

  “But the penalties—”

  Hades lifted the big knife and held it between them, the tip just inches from Simon’s eyes, rotating the blade so the light glinted off its serrated edge. “You can withdraw the money, Simon. And you will.”

  Simon’s Adam’s apple rose and fell as he gulped air through his open mouth. He leaned back, away from the knife. “But…but the bank won’t just hand over that much money. They’ve got rules.”

  “True.” Hades leaned back, returning his knife to its sheath. “But you’ve made a good number of wire transfers in the past. Including a few international transfers. So a wire transfer of your money to Panama, for example, won’t be flagged.”

  “You want me to transfer the money out of the country? The bank has limits.”

  Hades inched closer. He could feel the foul stench of Simon Lawson’s breath through his mask. “For individuals, yes. Tedious, pedestrian, low limits. I will remove the limits and we will empty your accounts.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  Hades leaned back.

  Pony and Shorty took a step closer, knives ready.

  Snot ran down Natalie’s nose, and her eyes leaked tears. “You’re going to kill us anyway.”

  Hades laughed. He turned to Natalie. “Touch my face.”

  She swallowed.

  Seconds passed. Hades’ smile faded. He shouted and again the noise bounced off the walls. “Touch my face!”

  Both Lawsons jerked backward, as if, being married, they were truly one flesh.

  Hades grabbed Natalie’s hand. “I said, touch my face.”

  Natalie grimaced, breathing hard. Even in the cool basement air, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and mingled with the tears and the snot.

  Slowly, she lifted her hand. Her fingers hovered two inches from his face. Hades grabbed her wrist in one smooth, brutal snatch.

  She fought back. “I… I…”

  “I said, touch my face,” he snarled.

  Natalie whimpered. She lifted her hand to his face. Her fingers hovered an inch away from him.

  He nodded.

  Her fingers touched his cheek. She pulled back as if she’d touched a hot flame.

  He took her hand and wiped it along his jaw. “You know what that is?”

  Her eyes were wide. “A mask,” she murmured.

  “A latex mask. Best quality. Better than Hollywood.” He gestured to Pony and Shorty. “And do you know why we wear masks?”

  “So you can’t be seen.”

  “Exactly.” He let go of Natalie’s hand, and she jerked it back to her chest. He resisted the urge to laugh. “As long as you can’t identify us, we have no reason to kill you.”

  Natalie pressed her lips together and swallowed.

  “We will take your money and leave. Unless you do something stupid to make me change my mind.” Hades covered her eyes with the blindfold and knotted it behind her head. “Trust me.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Monday, May 22

  Denver, Colorado

  Jess dashed to her apartment, threw a handful of clothes into her carry-on, and called FBI Special Agent Henry Morris as she drove as fast as she dared to Stapleton International Airport.

  They had met on a case that started in Dallas and ended in Italy. He was solid and reliable. She had thought him married at the time, but in the months following the case, she discovered he had lost his wife years before.

  After that, they’d dated a few times. Hectic work schedules frequently sabotaged their plans, and their relationship had a long way to go, but she liked him. More importantly, she trusted him.

  Morris answered on the second ring. “Hello, Jess.” His tone suggested he wasn’t alone.

  “Hey, Henry. I have a favor to ask. I’m on the way to the airport now. I don’t have time to get my Glock through the airport red tape. Can you get it sent to me?”

  He kept his formal tone. “Certainly. You’ll need a Federal Firearms license holder to receive it.”

  “I’ll find a dealer in the area, and send you the address this afternoon.”

  “Where’s the item?” His circumspect question confirmed he wasn’t alone.

  “Mandy has a key to my apartment. I have a safe. Call me when you get there, and I’ll give you the code.”

  “Right,” he said as if making a note. “I’ll see that it gets done.�
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  “Thanks, Henry, and…well, just thanks. Very much… You know.”

  “I know, and I’ll see you soon.”

  Jess ended the call.

  The Stapleton Airport parking garage was almost full. She circled for an annoying ten minutes until she found a sedan backing out. From there she ran a flat-out sprint to security and boarded her flight with barely two minutes to spare.

  She buckled in as the plane pushed back from the gate.

  The flight was only ninety minutes. Climb, cruise, descend. The cabin crew served snacks and coffee that could have been left over from the previous day. Jess sipped from a bottle of water she’d grabbed from her fridge on the way out, and went through Carter’s notes.

  The traffic crash had occurred ten days ago. The white panel van had been stolen from a parking lot. A high-speed chase that the police had tried to corner. One of the police cruisers flipped, and the officer died. Eleven other vehicles were damaged, the last being a minivan in which one passenger had died. Passengers in the other vehicles were injured.

  The stolen panel van had come to rest with its front end embedded in a flower shop, after hitting several pedestrians. One had died immediately.

  The van’s driver was responsible for the carnage. Twelve people were hospitalized. A day later, another pedestrian had died.

  Jess shuddered as she flipped through the photographs. The stolen van was practically demolished. It was a wonder the driver walked away. The airbag had deployed, which probably made the difference between life and death.

  The next report said the entire area was sealed off and crime scene teams had descended on the site the night of the crash. Every shred of evidence had been collected, processed, and investigated.

  There were several unexplained details. There always were. Minutiae. Witness statements that didn’t quite correspond. Tire marks on the roads that might have been caused by an accomplice, or could have been made by a teenage boy showing off the day before.

  Blood evidence was collected from the cars, the streets, and the flower shop. There were so many samples, labs across the state were used to perform DNA tests, and they were painstakingly assigned to those who were injured or deceased.