The kid shrugged. “Possibly. Lots of people come to my parties. I don’t know them all. People bring their friends along.”
“You know Blaine Timmons?”
The kid’s mouth tightened and his right hand clenched. Still, he met Frank’s eye and spoke without a quaver. “No. Never heard of him.”
“He’s a drug dealer,” Frank explained. “Says he made a delivery here—a little product to get the party started.”
The kid smirked. “Look, I know my neighbor complained about noise. We’ll keep it down. But all we do here is drink some beer and some tequila shots. Nothing to freak out over.”
“I’m not here about the noise complaint.” Frank pulled out Justin and Keith’s drivers’ license photos. In the unskilled hands of the Department of Motor Vehicles photographer, the brothers looked almost identical. The party host glanced at the pictures and quickly looked away. “Don’t look familiar.”
Frank glanced at the BMW beside them. As Earl had noted, it had a college sticker in the rear window. “So, you go to the Wharton School of Business?”
The kid’s chest puffed up. “I start in the fall.”
“That’s a wonderful opportunity. Puts you on a path to a big Wall Street career, I imagine.”
The kid looked at Frank warily. “I worked hard for it.”
“I’m sure you did. So it would be a shame to lose your shot at the big time. I’ve heard of these prestigious schools rescinding admission to students caught up in a scandal—racism, sexual assault, cheating. I imagine if Wharton caught wind of the fact that you throw drug-fueled parties and associate with a known heroin dealer who’s been linked to the murder of a young woman....” Frank held his hands out. “They might reconsider your admission. After all, there are plenty of people on the waiting list who could take your spot.”
“What? That’s absurd.” The kid sputtered, but his gaze had lost its brash confidence. “My father’s lawyer—”
Frank chuckled. “Oh, this isn’t a matter for lawyers, son. Imagine this—the Wharton admissions director opens his morning email and there’s a photo of a convicted heroin dealer making a delivery to a party house owned by the family of an incoming student. Students have lost their college spots for less than that.”
The kid raked his fingers through his hair. “But Blaine doesn’t have a pict—”
“Ah, so you do know Blaine,” Frank said with a smile. “Let’s sit down and talk, my friend.”
Frank doubted this kid had the cojones to make it as a Wall Street bond trader because within minutes, he’d spilled everything he knew. Keith and Justin Hale weren’t close friends of his, but they were all well enough acquainted for him to know that Justin played high-stakes poker and had won a lot of cash. And that’s why Justin was in exile at The Balsams—his father wanted to keep him away from online poker.
“Justin is awesome,” the kid told Frank. “We watched him play at the party. He won, like, two grand, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“What about Keith?” Frank asked.
“He wasn’t watching his brother play. I guess he’s seen it often enough.”
“Were either of the brothers using drugs at the party?”
The kid squirmed in his seat. “Oh, come on—it was a party. Everyone was doing something. I didn’t keep track of who was doing what.”
“Did the brothers arrive with girls?”
“No. They came and left alone.”
“Which brother did you introduce to Blaine?” Frank asked.
The kid scratched his head. “I dunno. That was later in the night. I was pretty smashed by then. The two of them look a lot alike, ya know.”
Unfortunately, Frank sensed the kid was telling the truth. He didn’t seem to have a reason to lie about this small point. “Did one of the brothers specifically ask you about procuring an ATV?”
“Yeah—he said he needed it so they could sneak away from The Balsams without their dad knowing. That he’d pay cash. So I figured Blaine could help with that, and I took him over. But I didn’t stick around to hear the deets.”
“Blaine told me someone at the party called the Hale brother that arranged for the ATV by a nick name. They called him ‘Worm.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
The kid scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Oh, maybe from that old movie, the one where Matt Damon is a poker player.”
Old? How old could a movie be if it starred Matt Damon? “I don’t know it. Can you explain a little?”
“Well, Matt Damon is a law student who plays poker and his girlfriend gets him to give it up, but then his lowlife friend gets out of prison and convinces him to play again, and they get in all kinds of trouble. Rounders, that’s the movie! And the lowlife friend is called Worm.”
ON THE DRIVE BACK TO town, Frank contemplated the evidence he had and decided it was still a big load of nothing. Some of his suspicions had been confirmed—Justin was indeed a gambler and his father wanted to break his habit. Not a crime; not even suspicious. It made sense that Justin would be the brother most in need of the ATV, but both boys could have been in on the plan. Which brother was Worm? Did it matter? Maybe Earl or Penny knew more about the movie.
What Frank needed and still didn’t have: information to connect Caitlin to the Hales. Why had she gone to The Balsams? Did it have to do with drugs, or sex, or gambling?
Or all three?
Chapter 43
After a long, stressful day, Penny and Frank sat on the living room sofa watching Rounders, which Penny had found on a streaming service. “I didn’t know poker could be so interesting. Matt Damon and Edward Norton are both great actors,” Penny said. “But I can’t decide which Hale brother is Worm and which one is Mike.”
Frank pointed at the TV as Matt Damon filled the screen. “He plays the law student poker player, so wouldn’t Keith be him and Justin the other one?”
“Yes, but Matt Damon is the winning poker player so that would be Justin, no? Worm is the hustler wannabe character—would that be Keith?”
Frank rubbed his eyes. He didn’t find the movie as entertaining as Penny did, and it hadn’t revealed any clues to him. “Oh, no!” Penny shouted a warning to Matt Damon as he faced a tough guy. Just then, Frank’s phone rang.
They both stared at it warily. Frank didn’t recognize the number.
“I hope that’s someone trying to sell you an extended warranty,” Penny said. “and not someone expecting you to go out on a call.”
Frank didn’t have the luxury of screening his calls. “Frank Bennett,” he announced as he answered.
High-pitched arguing flowed into his ear. “No! Hang up, hang up!” a man’s voice said in the background.
“I won’t! We must get help,” a woman’s voice shouted into the phone.
“Mina? Is that you?” Frank asked.
“Frank, you must help us. They have taken Farhan.”
“Can I have my phone back,” a third voice pleaded.
Frank walked away from the TV. Taken Farhan? Is that what she’d said? “What’s going on? Where are you?”
“We are at the motel. I am using a guest’s phone so they can’t trace the call,” Mina said, her voice racing along so fast Frank could barely understand. “We have been waiting for Farhan to return from his friend’s house. When he didn’t come, we called the parents and they said he left hours ago. And then we received this email, and, and they said we weren’t to call the police, but I said we must call. Only you can help us,” Mina ended in a wail.
“Put Sanjiv on the phone,” Frank demanded.
“You mustn’t come here.” Sanjiv took over, his voice panicked and shrill. “Then they will know we have called you, and they will hurt Farhan. They are killers.”
“Who? Who has Farhan?” Frank spoke firmly to try to calm his friend.
“The same people who killed Caitlin.” Sanjiv struggled to speak clearly. “They took our son because they think his computer contains information that will incriminate them. They said we
must bring the computer to an abandoned shed and leave it, and then they will return Farhan to us.” Sanjiv began to sob. “They sent us a photo. Farhan is, is...naked. They said they will send this picture all over the internet and ruin his life. They will say he is a sex worker.”
Frank reached out a hand to steady himself against the kitchen wall. The threat used against Caitlin had now been turned on Farhan.
“I need to see the picture,” Frank demanded.
“You can’t come here!” Sanjiv screamed. “And I can’t forward it to you or they will know. They have hacked into the motel computer.”
“Is there anything in the background of the photo that indicates where he is?”
Sanjiv’s breathing echoed through the phone line, heavy and ragged. “Farhan is posed, like a statue. He wears only a blindfold. He is very clear, but the background is blurred. The bottom, where he stands, is brown. The middle, green. The top, blue. But the colors blend together.”
Frank’s brain whirred as he tried to picture this in his mind’s eye. What came to him was the photo of the fox displayed at The Balsams, the animal precise and clear, the background artistically blurred. “Could he be outside, standing on a wooden platform with the lake and sky behind him?”
“Yes, possibly. There is something beside him that could be part of a tree. Do they have him at the same place where Caitlin died?” Sanjiv’s voice rose toward hysteria.
Frank didn’t answer the question. “Where are you supposed to leave the computer?”
Shakily, Sanjiv read the directions from the email and Frank plotted them on a map. “I must go right now,” Sanjiv said. “And you must not follow me or they will know and, and ki—” He choked on the word.
“I don’t need to follow you. I know exactly where they’re sending you.”
The ramshackle sugar house just a quarter of a mile from Phyllis Gartner’s home—Kendall must have passed it in his dealing with Phyllis. Kendall must be back in the area.
“Go and drop the computer off,” Frank instructed Sanjiv. “Leave the area as quickly as possible. Don’t look around. I’ll have someone there waiting and watching in case there’s any trouble. He’ll be well hidden.”
“But Farhan—”
“Don’t worry, Sanjiv. I’m going to get Farhan. I know exactly where he is.”
Chapter 44
Frank called Earl at home and quickly briefed him. Then he outlined what he needed his assistant to do. “Take the night vision goggles you use for hunting. Take your own truck. Wear civilian camo. Park on the main road and hike to the shack. Hide and watch. I just want you to be a witness to what goes down. I don’t think Kendall will appear until after Sanjiv has left. Don’t try to be a hero. Don’t try to arrest Kendall. Do you understand?”
Frank hung up after Earl agreed.
Penny had been listening. “Will Earl obey your order?”
Frank scowled. Earl had better obey, but he had no time to worry about it. Quickly, he gathered the equipment he needed and made another phone call as his wife continued to listen.
“You’re going to The Balsams all by yourself?” Her voice squeaked in protest. “Please, Frank—wait and get the state police to help.”
Frank whirled around. “Why do you think the taxpayers of Trout Run hired me and Earl, Penny? To direct traffic for the Fourth of July parade? No—to respond immediately when there’s trouble. Because they know the state police are always too far away to be useful.”
“But—”
“I’ll call Meyerson while I’m driving. He and his men can head to The Balsams by boat. I’m taking the land route.”
Penny trailed him to the door. “You’ll need an ATV. And how will you find your way in the dark?”
“I’ve got some helpers in mind.”
AS FRANK HAD GUESSED, Todd was delighted at the prospect of some excitement on an ATV in the night forest. Frank had roused him at his home, where, in a stroke of good fortune, Todd already had an ATV loaded on his pick-up truck for a delivery the next day.
“If it gets damaged in our operation, I’ll buy you a new one,” Frank promised.
They sped toward the old logging road where Frank intended to pick up Buck Dwyer, who would certainly be home. With Todd driving, Frank had plenty of time to think.
It was his fault Farhan was in danger. He’d asked the boy to find evidence on the library computer. And when Earl had told Farhan he didn’t need to track down the ownership of Jacks Are Wild, Farhan clearly had ignored him. The kid had relished the challenge. Frank should have known that, and warned Farhan and Sanjiv both to stay far away from Kendall and his evil pursuits.
Farhan was a thirteen year old kid who understood computers better than ninety-nine percent of adults.
But he understood nothing about the depths of human depravity. Greed, jealousy, shame, sexual desire—how could a sheltered kid from a loving family begin to understand the terrible emotions he’d unleashed with his digital sleuthing?
What if—? Frank couldn’t let his mind go there. He would save Farhan.
He would.
Frank gripped the armrest as Todd careened around a corner, enjoying the opportunity to drive eighty miles an hour with impunity. “Don’t kill us before we get there,” Frank warned. “The turn-off for the logging road is coming up.”
Todd’s huge pick-up and the rattling of the ATV in back made so much noise that Buck was already out on his porch with his rifle when they came to a stop. Frank pushed Todd into a crouch just in case Buck’s trigger finger got itchy and shouted out his identity to the old man.
Once Buck approached the truck, Frank explained their mission. Todd would drive the ATV, Buck would navigate, and Buck would direct Frank to the duck blind he’d help build for Keith’s photography.
Frank was sure that’s where he’d find Farhan.
Buck hopped into the truck with his gun.
“Put that back in the house,” Frank commanded.
Buck looked at Frank like he’d suggested the old man strip himself naked. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere without my gun. There’s a case full of guns at The Balsams. And you won’t find that duck blind without me.”
No time to argue. “Fine. But put the safety on, wouldja. I don’t want my head blown off before we get there.”
“Once we find the duck blind, the two of you will find a safe place to hide until the excitement’s over, understood?” Frank said. “The state police will be arriving by water. I don’t need a firefight to break out in the dark.”
They drove up the logging road until the truck could go no further. Then Todd unloaded the ATV and the three men jammed themselves into a space built for two. The ATV moved slowly under the extra weight, but even at the reduced speed, Frank had to hang on tightly to keep from being thrown out as the vehicle forced its way through the rough terrain.
“How much further?” Frank asked Buck. By now, Sanjiv must have made the drop off and Kendall must have the computer. The window to rescue Farhan was narrowing.
“’Nother mile,” the old man said.
A terrible thought forced its way to the top of Frank’s consciousness. Whatever evidence Farhan had found and saved on his laptop, he had no doubt been smart enough to back it up somewhere else in the cloud. Kendall would know this. Would he force the kid to give up his passwords and then release him with the threat of the pornographic photos to hold his silence?
Or would he order the boy killed to ensure his silence?
How much control did Kendall have over the Hale boys? Who was really in charge? How much did Desmond know...or care?
Frank wasn’t afraid of confrontation, but he wished he understood exactly what scenario he was walking into.
Up ahead, Frank saw a brief glimmer of light. “Is that the house?”
“Yep. Better park this thing if you don’t want to announce to all the Hales that we’re here,” Buck advised.
They dismounted the ATV. Frank grabbed Buck’s shoulder. “You will not discharg
e that weapon tonight, understand? If Farhan is killed by friendly fire, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a jail cell.”
Buck scowled. “I ain’t shootin’ nobody unless they shoot at me first.”
“I’ll follow behind in case you need help with the kid,” Todd said, anticipating that Frank might want to leave him out of the action. “I’m strong enough to carry him.”
True. If they’d taken Farhan’s clothes, he wouldn’t be able to escape through the woods.
“Listen to me, both of you,” Frank said. “This is not a game. We are here to rescue a child from a dangerous, desperate man. I will call the shots, and you will listen.”
His recruits nodded.
Frank prayed they wouldn’t let him down.
With Buck in the lead, the lights of the big house soon came into view, but Buck directed them off to the right, away from the house. “We should pick up a trail here soon that leads down to the water. That’s where the duck blind is—about 100 yards from the house as the crow flies, but it’s on a tiny island about twenty feet from shore. I built a little bridge out to it across an inlet.”
Both Buck and Todd were hunters, so they moved through the woods making much less noise than Frank had anticipated.
Frank had a flashlight with a focused but powerful beam. He turned it on occasionally, so they could see and memorize the terrain ahead.
Soon, their trail intersected the narrow, well-beaten path leading from the main house to the duck blind. They marched along, single file. Frank could just make out the faint swish of water lapping the shore of Mallard Lake.
Ahead of them, a faint glow shone through the trees.
“He’s got some kinda light down there,” Buck said. “Must be a battery lantern.”
Then Frank saw intermittent bright flashes and heard a click, click, click echoing through the quiet night woods. His stomach lurched. Keith was shooting photos of his victim.
A terrible cry pierced the night.
Frank gasped.
Behind him, Todd lay a steadying hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Just a loon.”
Jumping Rise Page 21