Vinnie had told them he didn’t remember much. He did. In his mind, Raina thought, Vinnie remembered it all well—he just didn’t remember anything he thought could be of use.
Vinnie was still deeply bothered by what had happened.
Haunted by it.
By the failure of law enforcement or anyone else to find Fran Castle before she’d been killed.
Twelve noon.
Raina glanced at Axel, who gave away little of his thoughts. But she knew him. And she knew his next move would be to find out just where Frank Peters and Loretta Oster had been between 10:30 and noon on the day that Fran Castle had gone missing.
Again, the question rose in her mind.
Why?
Why kill someone like Fran Castle?
Or any of the others for that matter, including Jennifer Lowry?
“I just don’t know anything more about that day. Terry couldn’t understand why Fran would have left the casino. They had a spat—but just a really little tiff because she’d been at the machine, and Fran had sat down, and the bonus had come in. It hadn’t been big. Fran had just moved over to another bank of machines...”
And then disappeared.
“Normally, it takes time for an official missing-persons report. But her having just walked out, with her car abandoned, and Terry Highsmith so insistent that something had to be wrong, well, it got things moving. Sometimes idiot folks start walking around along the shore of the canal looking for birds or even trying to snap pictures of sleeping gators. Made sense for us to look. Never made sense that we couldn’t find her.”
“What about her friend?” Axel asked. “Terry Highsmith? Was there ever a time she was able to tell the police anything more? Fran’s friends, her enemies, was she in debt?”
“I talked to her after I found the car. She was babbling, mostly. Very frightened because I’d found the car abandoned. She was the one to suggest Fran might have just gotten angry and headed up to the Seminole casinos. The abandoned car was what made that theory a little wild. Terry was trying to think of reasons Fran might’ve left. But she was scared for her friend. Just disappearing like that wasn’t the kind of thing Fran did. And she hated bugs and mosquitoes and alligators and snakes. There was nothing wrong with the car—it was just parked off the Trail. We all wanted to believe there had been a problem, that she’d called another friend, but she was never seen again. Until now,” he added softly.
“Maybe talk to Terry Highsmith again,” Jon suggested.
“Dead,” Vinnie said. He paused. “I kept up on it, you know. Couldn’t forget the way Fran Castle had just seemed to vanish. I’d call Terry every few years and just check on her, and, well, she died five years back. An aneurism or some such thing—just dropped dead at work one day. She’d been a manager at one of the big grocery stores in Miami. Anyway, we tried everything. Everything and everyone. And never found Fran Castle or any reason for why she disappeared.”
“What happened to her estate?” Kylie asked.
“What estate? She didn’t leave any kind of estate. Maybe a few thousand dollars. She was never declared dead, so... I don’t know,” Vinnie said.
He looked old and sad. Raina was next to him and she set a hand on his arm.
“We can only imagine how much of yourself you gave to trying to find Fran Castle,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
He looked at her strangely, probably wondering what a dog trainer might have to do with the search for a killer. But he did know Axel had “spooky” friends, so he might not be as confused as he could have been.
“Thank you,” he told her. “There’s always that one lingering case that follows you forever. I don’t know if I’ve helped—”
“You have,” Axel assured him.
“Then I guess I’ll head on out. But if you need me again, in any way,” he told them, looking from Axel to Nigel and on to Andrew, “you know I’ll do anything. Search, dig, go through records. I’m retired, but if you need it, call me.” He offered a rueful smile. “Like that song title, call me. I’ll be there.”
They all thanked him, and he left.
For a while, they were quiet. “So, no estate for anyone to get. A well-liked person. She and her friend—also dead now—had a little spat over a game machine. But Terry said they had those little spats all the time—they were part of the day. They didn’t bet big amounts or lose big amounts or win big amounts. They would vie for different machines, and then laugh about it later.”
“Thirteen years ago,” Jon reminded him. “And if you’re right, it’s damned chilling. A murder-for-hire enterprise that’s been going on for all these years possibly starting before Fran Castle disappeared.”
“She left the casino after a phone call,” Raina mused.
“Lured out,” Axel theorized.
“It’s late. We need to start fresh in the morning,” Andrew said. “Maybe Jordan Rivera will be out of his coma by then. And when there’s light, we can start searching again.”
They were all silent. Then Axel stood up. “Right. We won’t get anywhere without some sleep. And Angela is busy on records.” He hesitated. “We might even have to take a quick trip to South Dakota. I’d like to meet Peter Scarborough’s wife and find out more about their split.”
“So far, no money trail,” Jon said. “I’ve read and read and... I’m not seeing anyone giving or receiving large amounts of money.”
“Maybe the reasons for murder differ,” Raina suggested.
They all looked at her.
“I mean...maybe someone just hated someone. And then, in another case, maybe money was involved. And then, in another case, there was a job out there that was coveted by someone else and they were behind. I mean, I don’t know...”
“It would still be murder for hire,” Axel mused. “And if that is the case, someone had to be getting money from somewhere. Angela has to find something—offshore accounts. Murder for hire. Money. Unless...”
“Unless?” Nigel asked, leaning forward.
“Unless payment is in a different form,” Axel said.
Nigel sat back. “What kind of form?”
“I don’t know,” Axel said. “A favor done...for a favor? We can look at the victims and those close to them and see how their lives might have changed.”
“I can hop up to South Dakota and see the one-time wife of Peter Scarborough,” Jon offered.
Axel nodded. “Tomorrow, we’ll start here with the most recent victim, Jennifer Lowry. We’ll head back to the dentist’s office.”
“And maybe the doctors will be able to wake Jordan Rivera by then,” Raina said. She hesitated, wincing inwardly. “Because he might well know something.”
There was silence again.
Axel stood up; it was time for them all to leave. Frustrating to have to break for the night.
As they left, Raina looked up at the sky.
Night. It made such a difference out here. Andrew barely seemed to notice, but this was his home. He had always known the darkness and shadows and simple eeriness of the Everglades by night. There was, of course, still a moon. It seemed to ride higher in the sky here than it did above the city lights.
Stars themselves seemed different. Brighter. And yet all around her, the darkness was more complete, and nature’s light allowed for strange shadows, making the sound of the creatures that lived and died in the ever-flowing river frightening at every turn.
She seemed to be the only one who noticed. They exchanged a few more words as they all headed to their cars.
They drove in silence, but as they neared her house, Axel looked at Raina and said softly, “This has gone on for years, you know.”
“I know,” she said. “And I know things aren’t solved easily.”
“Hey, this is it. We’re on track. We will get where we’re going.”
They reached the
house. Titan jumped out of the car and ran ahead. Jon and Kylie had just pulled in ahead of them.
Raina quickly stepped out of Axel’s car, anxious.
But she needn’t have worried.
Titan was ready to greet them, convinced already they belonged there. She lowered her head and let out a soft sigh, relieved, and then hurried up to open the door and let them all in.
Night.
She found herself more distracted than ever, confused and lost.
And wishing she’d never tried on the blue dress.
But then they said their good-nights to Jon and Kylie, and she set Titan up with a treat in the hallway.
But in her room with the door closed, Axel took her into his arms, and suddenly strength seemed to flow back into her.
She didn’t know exactly what it was. Maybe that they could laugh together, maybe the feel of bare flesh touching, seducing, bringing such sweet and vibrant heat. The way his lips could move over her flesh. Or the way he kissed her, or the way his eyes fell upon hers right when he rose above her and they came together, the feel of him in her.
Sex.
It wasn’t that she could call herself an expert, but life had brought a few lovers her way.
Sex, and then...
Sex with him.
And falling in love. And loving everything about him, about his touch, rising like a whirlwind, buffeted by lightning into the heavens, drifting again on the most gentle breeze.
Seeing his eyes again.
Feeling the way he held her.
Maybe it was just so much more. Really making love.
And the night, even darkness, even shadows, were good.
She wondered what it would be like to live like that, always.
* * *
Axel’s first call was to the doctor.
Jordan Rivera was stable.
But not good.
The doctors were unwilling to bring him out of his coma, despite the stakes at hand.
Axel knew the doctors were good. They followed the oath they had taken. The patients entrusted to them deserved their care to the best of their abilities, and that was that.
But it was frustrating.
He knew Jordan was safe. He believed in Nigel and the police.
County officers remained on guard—two at any given time, allowing for necessary breaks, coffee, staying awake and being aware and, most important, alert.
Jon and Kylie had left at the crack of dawn. He had dressed and come out to tell them goodbye and thank them as they headed on out.
“All is good,” Kylie told him. “I’m not an agent—”
“You’re an important consultant,” Axel interrupted, grinning. It was a title many people took on when it was necessary for work with the Krewe.
“Yeah, well, this case is important. Not that I don’t love the work I’m doing with Adam at the new museum he’s opening, but I’m good at what I do, at hiring the right people, and we’re moving along fine in the right direction. We’ll have a great fall opening. For now, they’re good without me.”
“And I’m grateful.”
She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “As long as you show up for the wedding!” she told him.
The two were getting married in New York in October.
“I intend to make the wedding,” he assured her.
“With a real date, I think,” Jon teased. Then he grew serious. “Let’s get going. South Dakota isn’t close and I’d like to get some bearings.”
The Krewe members were lucky. Adam Harrison had seen to it they had a private jet, and it was available to get Jon Dickson and Kylie Connolly to South Dakota. They would be seeing Melissa Scarborough; she’d agreed to meet with them during her lunch break.
With those two gone, he’d checked on Titan, giving him a treat, and returned to the bedroom to quietly make his phone call.
When he’d finished at the hospital, he’d lain beside Raina, staring at the ceiling, thinking. She stirred at his side, but he hadn’t realized she’d fully awakened until she spoke.
“We’re going back out to Andrew’s?” Raina asked him. “Are we looking for the remains of Brandon Wells?”
“I think we’re going to head back to the dentist’s office and talk to Dr. Wong first. Then, maybe, take a trip downtown.”
“Downtown?”
“Law offices.”
“Like where Tate Fielding and Jordan Rivera work?”
He nodded.
“But Jordan’s not there,” she said. “Jordan’s in the hospital.”
“Right. Tate will be there.”
“What do you think Tate could know?”
“Well, you’re all still good friends, right? And there was a time when Mya dated Jordan and you dated Tate, right?”
“Ancient history.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at,” he said, smiling. “I’m thinking if you’re all still friends, then Jordan and Tate are probably really good friends, and Tate might know more about Jordan and his activities than we do.”
“Okay. Tuesday at a law office. We might have some trouble seeing Tate.”
“I don’t think so,” Axel said. “It’s amazing what an FBI badge can do, especially in a law office. Attorneys have to be on the up-and-up at all times, and if they’re not, they have to appear to be.”
“The firm has been around forever.”
“Trust me, Tate will take the time to see us.” He glanced quickly at his watch. “We can be there for nine. That will leave us hours and hours to try the trails out around Andrew’s house. Or,” he added dryly, “opt for another airboat ride.”
“Okay, then, I’m up,” she said.
He glanced her way, grinning. “So am I.”
“It’s morning.”
“So it is. I have nothing against light.”
She laughed softly and curled into his arms.
Eventually, she was the one who rose, sprinting into the shower. He used the time to call Nigel and Andrew.
Search parties would start up again soon. This time, the police and others on call would be looking for the remains of Brandon Wells.
Nigel sounded weary and frustrated. “I just don’t get it. Eventually, there’s some kind of a money trail. There’s something. Anyway, I’m going to go out to some of the police stations in the different cities, just make sure everyone is on the same page, and aware, if nothing else. Tomorrow, my captain has asked we have something of a task force meeting early. So, anything we get today will be of great help.”
“Good,” Axel said, and told him his intentions.
“A plan is a good thing,” he said. And they agreed again, late that afternoon or early evening, they’d meet back up at Andrew’s.
Raina emerged from the bathroom, not just showered but dressed and ready.
He headed in, showered in very hot water very quickly, and came out. She was in the kitchen with Titan, telling him he’d be in for the morning, but out with them later.
“Downtown,” she said. “Should I call Tate?”
“Let’s surprise him,” Axel said.
They headed out, taking US 1 down to Flager and a few blocks in from Biscayne Bay, to the impressive new high-rise building and the law offices of Fielding, Brockton and Emery.
“There are more attorneys in the firm,” Raina said, whispering in the elevator, even though they were alone in it. “About ten of them, and legal assistants, and other office workers. Jordan is a whiz at their civil cases, so I understand. And he’s not even thirty. I know one day he’s hoping the name ‘Rivera’ is going to be added to that of the partners.”
“What else do they handle?”
“Civil and criminal cases. And apparently, they’re known to be especially good with their criminal cases. They work diligently for their clients, but also
know when to advise a plea deal. They don’t handle maritime law, but they do personal injury. For the clients, not the insurance companies. But from what I understand they’re respected because they don’t represent anyone who spreads honey on the grocery store floor to fake a fall. They go for the real thing.”
“Commendable,” Axel said. But he found himself thinking they were careful and didn’t handle any cases when a client might have been caught on camera doing any such thing.
The firm had the entire twentieth floor of the building. The receptionist was an attractive woman in her late thirties or early forties, handsomely dressed in a business suit, her dark hair neatly queued at her nape.
She knew Raina and greeted her warmly.
“Christmas party a few years back,” Raina whispered to him, before greeting the woman in return. “Karel, I’d like you meet an old friend, Special Agent Axel Tiger. Axel, Karel has been with the firm for years. They’d never manage anything without her!”
“Well, that’s pushing it!” the woman said, smiling. “What can I do for you?” she asked pleasantly, and then her expression changed. “Oh, dear, it’s about Jordan. He’s not worse, is he? Tate told us the doctors have assured him Jordan will be okay eventually. He’s a great guy, truly. We’re all praying for him!”
“No change with Jordan. They’re keeping him in the coma,” Axel told her. “We were hoping to talk to Tate and perhaps anyone else Jordan was close to here.”
“I’ll call young Mr. Fielding immediately. I still can’t believe it. I mean, someone attacked Jordan and left him out there to die. I assure you—he didn’t go out there alone! But it certainly wasn’t anyone here!”
She didn’t wait for a response; she picked up her phone and informed Tate Fielding they were out in the reception area.
A second later, Tate—suave and impressive with neatly combed-back hair and an expensive designer suit—appeared, a look of concern on his face as he urged them to follow him back to his office.
It was a corner office, nice and high. The buildings next to it were older and not as tall. His office looked out over those buildings, all the way to the water.
He had a handsome chrome-and-glass desk with a computer set up on it, and matching filing cabinets that accented the ultramodern look of the office. Even his desk phone was framed with chrome. Comfortable but businesslike chairs sat in front of the desk with his swivel chair behind it, with wall cabinets lined up in easy reach.
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