Blood Brothers

by Kate Merrill

  “I was a Special Investigator in Charlotte for twelve years, but last month they transferred me home to Cornelius.”

  “You’re a local boy?” Sorvino asked. “I thought I recognized your name. Your father is my insurance agent. His name is Jay, too, am I right?”

  Keener offered a terse smile of confirmation, but no comment. He excused himself and took Monroe aside. After a brief consultation, the rookie officer left the room.

  “Andy Monroe and two others will canvass the neighborhood. They’ll knock on every door. Maybe someone saw something out of the ordinary,” Keener said.

  Brenda’s tan forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Should we bother our neighbors at dinnertime?”

  “Absolutely.” Keener frowned. “Sunday night most folks are home preparing for the upcoming week. In that respect, we’re very lucky.”

  Brenda started to protest, but Keener silenced her with one firm glance.

  And in spite of the panic pressing under Diana’s breastbone, she was fascinated by the whole procedure. She noticed how Keener’s small dark eyes darted restlessly in her direction. His face was sharp-featured, clean-shaven, and his high, narrow forehead was made more prominent due to premature baldness. Absurdly, his name, Jay, made Diana think of the bird, and she hoped he would pursue Juan’s abductor with aggressive, jay-like tenacity.

                “What’s on your mind, Mrs. Rittenhouse?”

                Keener caught her staring and threw her off balance. “I was just thinking about the guest register,” she stammered.

                “I saw it in the hall. What about it?”

                “Well, as far as I know, everyone who visited today signed the register. Can’t you call those people? Maybe someone saw something suspicious?”

                “We’ll contact them, Mrs. Rittenhouse…” Kenner grinned. “But in the meantime, you are our most stable witness. You were here all day.”

                “Do I look stable, Chief?” Her hand trembled as she lifted her glass of iced tea.

                “You’re our best shot.” Keener laughed.

  John Sorvino cleared his throat. “Listen, Keener, don’t hassle the folks who signed the guest book. After all, these people are potential buyers of this house. Invading their privacy will put them off.”

  “You listen, Mr. Sorvino, this kidnapping puts me off, and we will contact each and every one of your guests. This type of abduction, with no obvious physical or trace evidence, is the hardest to solve. Unless we clear it up in two days, the trail gets cold and our chance to recover the boy is greatly reduced. So get with the program.”

  At that moment, Diana spotted the silhouettes of Bobby and Juanita through the frosted glass of the front door. Her chest constricted with fresh guilt, and she braced herself for the next chapter.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  NINETEEN

   

   

  About the money…

   

  The interview with Bobby and Juanita was a nightmare. Juanita, crazed by grief and anger, attacked Brenda , Diana, and even God Himself, saying they were all to blame for Juan’s abduction. But Bobby, hanging in the background like a broken puppet, broke Diana’s heart.

  Any contact with the police was hell for Bobby. His relationship with the law had been a disaster, and when Keener heard the name Bobby Porter, Diana was certain the chief remembered the case. Last year Bobby was accused of murdering his own father, Jedidiah Porter, and even though he had been acquitted, the scandal still lingered.

  “Bobby Porter, you say?” The chief’s eyebrows lifted in his white forehead, but much to his credit, he did not mention Bobby’s past trouble. Instead, he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “I know this is difficult, but I need to speak with you and Ms. Cruz in private…” He turned to Brenda. “Can we use the living room?”

  “No problem.” Brenda shrugged.

  Brenda and Diana hovered over the sink rinsing dirty dishes from the Open House. John Sorvino quickly retreated into the back yard to punish plastic golf balls with his new driver. Diana was about to transfer the plates to the dishwasher when Keener summoned her to the inner sanctum.

  Diana followed reluctantly to where Bobby and Juanita were seated side by side on the loveseat, stiffly holding hands like worried teenagers. Juanita was uncharacteristically subdued, while Bobby was almost comatose. Whatever Keener told them so far had had a sobering affect.

  “May I call you Diana?”  The chief asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Like a child called to the principal’s office, Diana accepted the chair Keener indicated.

  The chief remained standing. “Diana, will you come down to the station and give us a full statement?”

  “Yes, of course.”  Now she sounded like her pet parrot.

  “But first we have a more immediate problem…” Keener glanced at Bobby and Juanita, who looked away in shame. “You two aren’t married, and you’re not Juan’s parents. Is that correct?”

  “So what if we’re not married?” Juanita snapped to life. “Juan’s parents are dead. His mama was my sister.”

  “That doesn’t automatically make you Juan’s legal guardians. You told me Juan’s paternal grandparents live in California. By law, they may be considered Juan’s closest blood relatives, so they must be consulted in this investigation.”

  “Bull! Those snobs think they’re too good for the likes of us. They refused to see Juan when he was born, and they haven’t seen him since. Me and Bobby are Juan’s only realfamily.”

  Keener noticed Diana squirming in her seat. Why had he dragged her into this? The situation was highly personal and definitely not her business. Yet it was fascinating to hear Juanita actually fighting to keep custody of Juan, when before she desperately wanted to get rid of the boy.

  “What do you think, Diana?”

  She sat up straighter. Did he want a character reference? “Well, I’ve seen Bobby and Juanita at home with Juan. In my opinion, they make a great family. These two are like his parents.”

  Keener faced the couple. “You’re willing to take full responsibility?”

  “Yes, sir!” They spoke in unison.

  “We love the boy,” Bobby added softly.

  “I’m sure you do, but the grandparents must be notified. Who knows, maybe they’ll be able to help us with the next problem…?” He paused and suddenly excused himself, leaving the three of them hanging breathlessly in a vacuum.

  He returned immediately with the Sorvinos in tow. Without ceremony, he waved John and Brenda into their seats. “Okay, folks, let’s talk turkey. How will we pay the ransom money?”

  Sorvino flushed crimson. “Why should I contribute one red cent when they took the wrong boy?”

  “Did anyone ask for your help?” Keener barked. “So far, the kidnapper’s only motive seems to be money, unless…” He took a long hard look at John Sorvino. “Do you have enemies, Mr. Sorvino? Maybe the kidnapping was personal?”

  John’s laugh was bitter. “Are you kidding? I’m a banker, for Christ sake. I say no to people every day of my life, and most of those people hate my
guts. But that doesn’t mean they’d do something like this.”

  “Maybe not, but we’ll explore that angle later.” Keener closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right now our only concern is the child’s safety.”

  “You figure the bastards will turn him loose if we give them the money?” Bobby asked. “How much do they want?”

  “A half million,” Sorvino answered soberly.

  “Mother Mary!” Juanita shrieked. “Who has that much money?”

  “He does.” Bobby cocked his head at Sorvino. “Even little Juan, who don’t know nothin’, told me how much you were asking for this house.”

  “You’re onto something, Bobby,” Keener said. “With the Open House and all the high-profile advertising, every criminal in three counties smells money.”

  Brenda’s face darkened under her tan. “That’s ridiculous. Just because John’s a banker, everyone assumes we’re filthy rich.”

  Juanita’s eyes scanned the expensive surroundings. “If the shoe fits, wear it…”

  Both Brenda and John glared at Juanita.

  “Surely you’re not suggesting that we should pay these jerks?” Sorvino fumed. “I thought you guys never give in to blackmail, never bargain with terrorists and all that crap?”

  “In fact, the experts often recommend paying the kidnappers,” Keener explained. “Statistics show that Juan would have a much better chance of survival if the kidnappers’ demands are met.”

  Sorvino crossed his arms and averted his eyes. Brenda did the same.

  Diana saw no help coming from the Sorvinos, and whatever respect she once had for her two selfish clients crumbled on the spot. “What if the kidnappers think we intend to pay them?”

  “Yeah, maybe we can string ’em along?” Bobby added.

  “It’s too risky, “Keener advised. “When it comes down to an exchange and the kidnappers realize they’ve been tricked, Juan is in real trouble.”

  The group fell silent as the implications sank in. Diana calculated that even if she put every last penny into a pot with whatever Bobby and Juanita could scrape together, they still couldn’t raise enough to interest a petty thief.

  She screwed up her courage and faced the Sorvinos. “Brenda, John, would you be willing to loanus the money?”

  Bobby leans forward. “Yeah, Mr. Sorvino. I don’t have much, but I own my house outright and I have a steady job. If you would lend us the ransom, as God is my witness, I’d pay you back with interest.”

  Bobby’s appeal hung in the air, but Diana knew by the way Brenda stared at her lap, by the way Sorvino rose from his chair shaking his head, that the plea was hopeless. Sorvino was an investment banker, and Bobby was a bad bet.

  “Look, I’m sorry…” Sorvino gestured to Brenda. “Can we go now…?”

  Keener cast a sympathetic look in Bobby’s direction, and then climbed to his feet. He walked to the window, where night had fallen. “Before you go, Mr. Sorvino, I’ll explain how you can help. The kidnapper will call back, so we’ll arrange for a wiretap on your ground lines and a trace on your cell phone.”

  Brenda joined her husband at the door, poised to escape. She sighed in exasperation, but Keener’s suggestion was not open to negotiation.

  “Do what you need to do,” Sorvino said as they left.

  “Nice guy…” Keener mumbled under his breath, then turned to them. “Look, folks, time is short, and we have a lot to do. I want to extend an arm of the investigation to your house, Bobby. We must consider a number of options, including a public appeal. Do you understand?”

  Bobby and Juanita nodded, but clearly the couple was paralyzed by fear.

  “Tomorrow morning Special Agent Miller of the Charlotte FBI will arrive at your place. Is that okay?”

  “Can Diana come, too?” Juanita asked.

  “Good idea.” Keener winked at Diana. “I’ll interview Diana tonight at the station house, but the Feds will want to question her, too. Agent Miller can interview Diana at your place. How does that sound, Diana?”

  “Sure, why not?” Her mind was short- circuiting from conflicting emotions. All of a sudden she was Juanita’s best friend. What was that about? Especially since she was responsible for losing Juan in the first place. Diana was sick, weary, and hardly fit for a grueling at Jay Keener’s police station. The entire day was a blur of grief and guilt, but when she glanced at the dark sky and thought about Juan, how could she say no?

  “Thanks, Diana,” Keener said before herding them briskly into the hall. “But one more thing---what does young Juan look like?”

  Diana sensed a shuffling from the shadows at the bottom of the stairs. She had no idea how long Johnny had been standing there, or how much he had heard, but obviously he was in distress. When he stepped boldly forward, his face a study in tearful defiance, the adults were transfixed as he beat his chest with one small fist.

  “That’s easy,” Johnny said. “Juan looks just like me.”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  TWENTY

   

  Redneck territory…

   

  Special Agent Beaufort Miller scowled at the directions Jay Keener had given him. Bo had entered them into his GPS, but the route was leading him deeper and deeper into the boonies, away from civilization. 

  Shortly after dawn he had shared coffee with the Cornelius police, and the strong brew was now eating a hole in his stomach. Those guys had a suicidal addiction to caffeine, but other than that, they were an efficient team of cops---especially Keener. Back when Jay was detective in Charlotte, he and Bo had worked several cases together, and the experience had taught Bo a healthy respect for the man.

  Even so, this abduction case, the astounding stupidity of kidnappers snatching the wrong kid, presented some nasty challenges for Cornelius. The town had a small department with limited resources, but fortunately Keener did not suffer from territorial machismo. He had the good sense to call the FBI immediately, meaning Bo, whose specialty was missing persons.

  Bo checked the route again. Taking another leap of faith, he turned left onto a dirt lane called Porter Farm Road. He drove into a valley where trees closed in on both sides, and as his tires pounded from rut to rut, he hoped his old shocks would withstand the punishment. Next his car climbed upward to where the forest parted and the early morning sun burned through the fog. The day promised to be another scorcher, but Bo didn’t mind. He loved hot weather.

  At the top of the rise, he saw a patch of shimmering lake dead ahead, and the sight caused a powerful tug of homesickness. These rolling hills were nothing like his beloved low country, and Lake Norman was fresh, not salt, yet it seems any body of water pulled his emotional trigger. Bo could almost smell the brackish tideland and feel the coastal sun on his face.

  Daydreaming, he nearly missed his turnoff--- a gravel path cutting into the forest on his right. As soon as he made the turn, Bo found himself following a slow-moving backhoe. The truck’s big wheels kicked up a cloud of dust, but Bo rolled up his windows and recalled what Keener had told him: The land is being developed as a state park, slated to open on the Forth of July…

  It was the same story all over North Carolina, including in his hometown of Beaufort. Everything was changing as wealthy outsiders took over the land and the sea. The kids he grew up with, all sons of fishermen, were leaving the area as expensive yachts and pleasure craft drove out the fishing industry. Some called it progress.

  Bo glanced at a crew of workmen lounging against their equipment. They were smoking and drinking coffee, struggling to overcome the ill effects of the weekend, dealing with Monday morning. At that rate, Bo doubted the state park would ever open on schedule, but at least these guys were creating something good, preserving a few natural acres for everyone to enjoy.

  He smiled and waved at the men, who followe
d his progress with openly curious stares. Bo suppressed his irritation. It wasn’t like he was driving a marked car or wearing the standard issue jacket with FBI emblazoned across his back. No, for this mission, he was deliberately anonymous in loafers, summer slacks, and a lightweight cotton jacket. Yet somehow, no matter how regular he looked, as long as he was out here in redneck territory, folks always took a second look.

  Or maybe it was his imagination? He had few friends, but the handful who knew him well said he was paranoid and urged him to brush the chip off his shoulder. Bo knew they were right, so he parked in the shade of an ancient willow tree and adjusted his attitude.

  As he walked towards the trio waiting on the front porch, a man and two women, he knew he would need no introduction. Thanks to Jay Keener, he was already familiar with the players in this drama. They had pulled in-depth background on everyone involved, from credit checks to criminal records. Bo even knew the date when Juanita Cruz received her citizenship papers.

  So while he had a clear idea of the personalities he was about to encounter, these people didn’t know Beaufort Miller. He braced himself, zipped up his jacket to conceal his shoulder holster, and then willed his long legs to carry him forward. The moment he climbed onto the porch, he sensed three distinctly different reactions, but he also realized that these strangers’ initial impressions went no deeper than his skin. He quickly introduced himself and showed his badge.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The tall woman with striking blue eyes extended her hand.

  No surprise there. He flashed a brilliant smile and shook her hand. The profile of Diana Rittenhouse had prepared him for an urbane northerner with close friends and associates in both flavors…vanilla and chocolate. Keener had said he liked this woman and had described her generous nature, which came through loud and clear.

  The Mexican woman, on the other hand, did a double take when she first laid eyes on Bo, but she recovered quickly and now regarded him with wry amusement.

  “Hi, I’m Juanita.” Her dark eyes sized him up from beneath heavy eyelids as she folded her bare arms under an ample bosom. “We figured you’d show up sometime.”