He carried the box of cereal with him and tossed a handful in his mouth every few minutes. In the bathroom he found tooth-paste and deodorant; in the bedroom he found a heavy coat and a fleece vest that fit him.
Easy livin’. He should be safe here for a while. The house was far enough back from the road that no one would notice lights at night. There was a Honda generator in the garage he could sell for a little pocket change. On the desk in the bedroom there was a computer, a nice tower job with a high-speed Internet connection.
Hmmm... Old Man Wilson was a pilot. The book shelves in the living room were full of books about flying. Clayton picked up a copy of Stick and Rudder and began to leaf through it. It was a primer on flying.
Then he had a thought. The X-box. He turned on the TV set and fired up the game console. Sure enough, there it was, Microsoft’s Flight Simulator, his favorite game. Time flew by as he played for a couple of hours.
Oh, the freedom of flight.
It was getting late and Clayton was a little hungry. He turned on the oven and popped in a pizza. He cracked open a beer, shut down the X-box and turned on the TV.
“This young man is a threat to the community,” a thin faced gray haired deputy said on the TV news. “We ask the public for assistance in apprehending him.” The picture on the TV changed to a picture of Clayton.
How about that? I’m famous.
“Clayton Johnson-White has been known to break into vacant vacation homes and steal food and blankets. We ask the public to keep an eye on any vacant homes near you and report any unusual activity.”
The bastards. Did they really think that they could catch him?
“The sheriff has made it a high priority to apprehend this young man.”
High priority, my ass.
Clayton threw his beer bottle across the room. “Come on, you bastards, come get me,” he yelled.
Then he had a more lucid thought. The police scanner! There was a police scanner above the desk in the bedroom. He could keep track of what they’re up to.
He pulled his pizza from the oven, grabbed another beer, and headed to the bedroom. He turned on the scanner and listened for calls.
He ate his pizza and perused the stack of DVD’s next to the bed.
Hey, this is cool. He held a copy of Catch me if You Can with Leonardo DiCaprio.
He took the DVD to the living room and put it in the player. Come Fly With Me got stuck in his head. Over and over Sinatra sang, “Come fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away.” Yeah, that was it.
Catch me if You Can became his motto. Yeah, stupid cops, think you can out smart me? Hah!
Catch me if you can.
Most of his second day as a guest of the Wilsons was spent on the computer. Clayton surfed the ‘net and dabbled on Facebook. He built a Facebook page but quickly realized it didn’t have much pizzazz. He needed pictures.
There was a digital camera in the china cabinet. He dug that out and started experimenting. Soon he was downloading photographs to the computer and uploading them to his Facebook page. Selfies in a stranger’s home were just what the doctor ordered.
On day three Clayton heard the call. The dispatcher on the police scanner told a deputy to check out the Wilson’s house. A neighbor reported something suspicious.
“Christ,” he muttered. “I have to get out of here.”
He quickly gathered a few things. The police scanner was going with him. Without it, he would have been caught.
Those smug bastards, he wanted to show them Mrs. White’s little boy was onto them, that he had outsmarted them.
He unzipped his fly and hosed down the couch.
Take that!
Then a thought struck him. He rummaged around in the kids’ room until he found a box with colored chalk. He returned to the living room and drew a Dr. Seussian bird flying away on the white wall. Underneath he wrote the inscription “Catch Me If You Can.” He tucked the box of chalk in his pocket.
But how to get away?
There was an ATV in the garage. He found the spare keys on the back of the kitchen door and headed out off road.
Camano Island was getting a little too hot for him. He knew just the thing. He crossed the Island to a marina and waited until dark.
There was no sign of activity when Clayton tip toed down the dock. He chose a fast looking boat, a twenty-eight foot fiberglass cruiser with a big Mercury V-8 with an inboard/outboard drive. Once again, his time in juvie paid off.
Growing up on an island, boating came naturally to him. He had nothing better to do than to hang around on the docks. He sure as hell didn’t want to hang around at home. He wasted so much of his time watching rich people playing with their boats. Now it was his turn.
He broke the lock on the cabin door and rummaged around until he found a flash-light. No sense in turning on the boat’s lights in the marina.
It didn’t take long to figure out how to hotwire the boat. He loaded his few possessions on board, cast off and crept out of the marina with his lights off
As soon as Clayton was clear of the breakwater, he opened her up. The swift cruiser leapt forward and came onto the plane. White water frothed in his wake. He made a small turn to get the feel for the boat then came back the other way. It was exhilarating. Soon he was doing a series of S-turns in the water at top speed.
He felt a sharp electrical charge pass through his body. He was free. This was it, the start of a new life.
Chapter 12
Chris muttered something in his sleep. Hope rolled over and looked at him. This was the first night she spent with him; the first time she had shared her body with him.
He looked so good. Like some big, fierce Viking, with his long blond hair and blue eyes. He was tall and athletic. She felt the incredible power in his arms as he held her tight. She was thrilled with his strength, yet felt perfectly safe in his arms.
Hope wasn’t a virgin, but she had never felt this way about a man before. Something about Chris was so right.
She liked his house. It was an old Craftsman-style home built before World War II just north of the University of Washington. Chris’s dad bought it for Sarah and him to live in while they went to school.
Chris was showing signs of prosperity now that he was a full-fledged lawyer. He had redone the kitchen, painted and updated all the rooms. The bathrooms were a little crowded, but had the latest fixtures, all in keeping with the house’s style.
“Whatcha thinkin,’ señor?” she whispered.
“Hmmm…” Chris said, “I was just thinking about what a lucky guy I am.” He rolled to her, smiled, reached out with one of those big, powerful hands and cupped her face. He pushed a few strands of her long, loose black hair from her face. “What did I ever do before I met you?”
“You walked through life an empty shell,” she teased. She crawled over him and brushed her lips gently against his.
“You know, I’m not used to this pillow talk.” Chris reached up and cupped a breast in each hand. “It’s been a very long time…”
“I know,” she cut in. “Teddy told me all about Meagan. He says you haven’t had a steady girlfriend since she was killed.”
“He told you what? That rat bastard. He’s not supposed to talk to anyone about that stuff.”
She tickled his face with her long hair. “Don’t blame him. I made him talk. He can’t keep a secret from Esperanza.” Hope rarely used her Mexican name, which meant Hope in English.
There was a long moment of silence.
Hope surveyed Chris’s bedroom. It was still done in purple and gold, the colors of his University of Washington Huskies. That would have to change. The Husky emblazoned comforter on the bed was just about the ugliest thing she had ever seen.
“Do you want to talk about her?” Hope asked, touching his face. “It’s okay. I’m a good listener.”
“What’s there to talk about? She was great. I thought I was in love. I was thinking about asking her to marry me -- then she was gone.”
Hope saw moisture glistening in the corner of Chris’s eye in the faint light of the clock radio. “What happened? How did she die?”
Chris pulled himself up on one elbow and looked at her. “You mean that rat bastard brother of yours didn’t tell you?”
“No, he wouldn’t talk about it. I think it was too painful for him too. He just said she was killed by terrorists.”
“We were sailing up the Inside Passage on my dad’s old boat, the Defiant.” Chris got a faraway look in his eyes. “We stumbled on this cell of al-Qaeda terrorists who were plotting to blow up a cruise ship.”
“Ted said your dad was on that ship?”
“Yeah, Dad, Candace and my sister Sarah. They were all there for Dad’s wedding. Anyway, we tried to stop the terrorists. They shot up the Defiant, that’s where I got this.” Chris rubbed the ugly white scar on his chest.
“I wondered about that.” Hope leaned down and kissed the scar. “But was afraid to ask.”
“If not for your brother, I wouldn’t be here right now. I owe him my life. I’d do anything for him.”
“You pretty much showed that down in Mexico.” Hope reached down and brushed his lips with hers. “If it makes you feel any better, he feels the same way. He’d put his life on the line for you.”
“Anyway, Meagan was shot at the same time. There was this big explosion, the terrorists’ boat and the Defiant were blown up. By the time the Canadian Coast Guard fished us out of the water, Meagan was gone.”
“That’s what I sense in you.” Hope gently kissed Chris’s chest. “I sense the fear. You’re afraid to get close to anyone else, aren’t you?”
Chris stared at her for a moment.
“First I lost my mother, to cancer then I lost Meagan. Everyone I love dies. I... I guess I just don’t want to put myself out there again.”
“Well, Mr. Macho Stud, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be around for a long, long time.” She bent down to give him a long, passionate kiss.
“What about your sister?” she said when they came up for air. “You love her and she’s still here.”
“Sarah is close to me again.” Chris rolled Hope off of him. “For years, after Mom died, she was lost in her own little world. She became a Goth and hated the world. When we were almost killed up there in Canada, she changed. She’s back to my little sister again, but she’s living in San Francisco now. I hardly get to see her. We make it a point to Skype each other at least once a week, but it’s not the same. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anyone to talk to.”
“What about Spiderman? Don’t you talk with Ted?”
“That’s different. We talk about guy stuff, sports and work and … stuff. Every now and then, he shares his feelings with me a little, but mostly we keep it pretty sterile. You really can’t talk about your feelings with a guy.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Esperanza is here for you.” Caramba, she was really falling for this big goof.
She reached down below the covers and grabbed him. “Let’s see what Mr. Winkie is up to.”
****
The nice split-level with the neatly-maintained yard was in the middle-class suburb of Edmonds, about twelve miles north of Seattle. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds and the cool air smelled of cedars. Crisp, dry leaves littered the sidewalk under the flowering plum trees.
Catrina pulled her burgundy Ford Explorer to the curb and checked her notebook. Yes, she had the correct address.
Dressed in jeans, a white oxford shirt and a brown corduroy blazer, she stepped out of her car and walked gingerly up the sidewalk to the front porch. She rang the door bell and heard a barking dog inside.
“Put Jasper away,” the woman on the other side of the double doors yelled.
The doors opened to reveal a slightly dumpy middle-aged woman with short chestnut hair.
“Yes?” the woman asked.
“Mrs. Hallstead? I’m Catrina Flaherty. I spoke with you on the phone. Your sister-in-law has hired me to find your brother.”
“You mean Karen. Don’t call her my sister-in-law. She’s nothing to me.”
“May I come in?” Catrina asked.
Mrs. Hallstead looked at Catrina for a moment. “Sure, why not? I suppose someone should find out what happened to Dick. God knows the police aren’t doing anything.” She stood aside and let Catrina enter. “By the way, my name’s Anne.” She held out her hand.
“Hi, Anne. Nice to meet you.” Catrina followed Anne up the half-flight of stairs to the living room.
The living room and adjoining dining room were painted a terra cotta with white borders. The white carpet showed signs of aging. A floral print sofa and overstuffed chair sat below the bay window looking out over the front yard.
“Nice house you have here,” Catrina said. “I love your yard.”
“Thank you. Sit. Please.” Anne blushed. “I guess I’m a bit of a gardener.”
“Don’t let her fool you.” A male voice came from the kitchen. “She has a green thumb. She’s a master gardener.” A tall, thin man with horn-rimmed glasses and very little hair on his head entered the room with a tray. On the tray was a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. “I’m Anne’s husband, Matt. May I offer you some lemonade?”
“Thanks, that would be nice.” Catrina sat at the end of the sofa.
Anne sat on the other end of the sofa and Matt put the tray down on the coffee table.
“I understand you’re looking for Dick,” Matt said as he poured three glasses of lemonade.
“Yes, Karen, his wife, hired me to find out what happened to him.” Catrina turned to Anne. “When was the last time you heard from him?” she asked.
Anne accepted a glass from her husband. “I don’t know. Maybe a week or so ago. We don’t talk every day, you know. We get together at holidays and family events. Other than that, it’s not unusual to go a month or so without hearing from him.”
“A week or so ago would be just before he disappeared. What did you talk about?”
“Dick was really upset, thought that his lawyer failed him,” Anne replied. “You know, done a sloppy job. He was afraid of going to jail. My brother didn’t commit any crime. It was all a mistake. The girl lied to him about her age.”
“And then what happened?”
“He was worried.” Anne sniffed. “Dick was afraid that something would happen to him.”
“I see.” Catrina sipped her lemonade. “Did he say what might happen?”
“No. It was Karen.” Anne twirled her glass on the coaster. “That woman’s capable of anything. She killed him. She dumped his body somewhere out in the desert. I don’t know why she hired you when she knows what happened to Dick.”
“It’s all about money,” Matt Hallstead interrupted. “You know that Karen is trying to take over his business. She wants it all.”
“What can you tell me about Dick’s relationship with his wife?” Catrina asked.
“Which one?” Matt asked.
“Matt, be kind.” Anne shot a searing look at her husband.
“Well, he’s had so many. Karen is what? Number five? And she’s on her second time around with him. If Dick had a weakness, it was the ladies.”
“Matt...”
“I’m just telling the truth. He was a hound dog. He’d sleep with anything in a skirt. That’s why he got into this coffee shack business. To have access to more girls.”
“My brother was just a confused soul,” Anne said to Catrina. “Dick was always looking for love. He needed a perfect love and there’s no such thing.”
“Honey, you always make excuses for your little brother. He was a dog.”
Anne glared at her husband.
“He had a new one, you know, some young chippie down in LA. He kept making trips down there to see her and she was up here this summer. I guess they met on the Internet or something.”
“He said she was really nice,” Anne chimed in. “S
he was a nurse. She worked in a retirement home down there somewhere. He said that she was the one.”
“He thought everyone was the one.” Matt refilled his lemonade.
“Have you heard from Dick?” Catrina asked.
“No. And I don’t expect to,” Matt answered. “That woman did him in all right. But she doesn’t have the guts to do it herself. She hired someone, paid to have him killed and now she’s going to get the return on her investment.”
“She wants his business,” Anne repeated.
“I hear that he wasn’t doing too well,” Catrina said. “I heard that the bank was about to foreclose on his houses.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Matt sat back in the overstuffed chair. “He was smart, knew how to hide his money. I have a feeling that Karen will never find it. Serves her right.”
“How did he hide his money?” Catrina asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. I know Dick had a good cash flow.” Matt took a sip of his lemonade. “I know he had nice things, a nice car, took trips. If the house was being foreclosed on, it was probably to cut Karen out. If he filed for divorce, she’d get half of everything. I think he hid his money somewhere so she couldn’t get to it.”
“Was there some special place he liked to go?” Catrina took a break from her scribbling and looked up at Anne. “Some hideaway maybe?”
“No.” Anne drummed her fingers on the glass. “He spent a lot of time in Vegas, but he didn’t go there much recently, because of his problems with Karen.”
“How about vacation spots? Where did he like to go?”
“They took a couple of cruises. They went to Alaska once, and the Caribbean. Dick loved the Caribbean cruise he took with his previous wife, Josey.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, “he always talked about the Caribbean. Where did they go honey? Puerto Rico, the British Virgin Islands? Anyway, he always said that he’d like to retire there.”
Catrina got up. “Thank you. You’ve been really helpful. If you hear from Dick, or you can think of anything else that would be helpful, please give me a call.” She handed Anne her business card.
Bikini Baristas: Ted Higuera Series Book 4 Page 12