“That’s why we’re both going to trot out our charming and friendly selves.” I pasted on a whacked-out smile that she caught out of the corner of her eye, judging by her smile. “We’re leaving badass in the car. You are listening, aren’t you?”
“I’m hanging on every word.” Fab slowed and hung over the steering wheel. “Your turn to listen. Keep your gun handy. At the first sniff of trouble, we’re going to jump in the car and skid back down that road, if that’s what it is.” She inclined her head to the other side of the road.
“It looks like the road’s been upgraded with gravel over the dirt on the other side of the ravine.”
Fab turned, cut across the grass strip, and eased into the dip, then back up onto flat land. The road disappeared into the trees, and we couldn’t see where it led. “This is creepy.”
I agreed with her.
The road slithered through the trees, past an open gate, and into a wide-open cleared space, a large modern farmhouse house off to one side. The wrap-around porch overlooked a small pond with a dozen or more ducks hanging out on the banks. In the distance was a huge red barn surrounded by a fenced pasture, with three garages on one side that could easily house a dozen cars each. The rolling green land went back as far as the eye could see.
“This is a heck of a lot nicer than I expected. In fact, it’s impressive,” Fab said as she pulled up and parked.
We got out and walked over to the plant-lined brick path that led to the front door. The door opened, and an imposing man in short overalls, tufts of white hair sticking on end, stood in the opening and checked us both out. A yellow Labrador scooted around the man and skidded to a stop, sitting at his side. The man and his dog moved to the top of the six steps up to the porch. “You lost?” the man grouched. “How did you get in, anyway?”
I wanted to suck in a deep breath and instead pasted on a friendly smile and nudged Fab, murmuring, “Old men are your specialty, so you’re up.”
“Nice try.” Fab stepped behind me.
“I hope we’re not trespassing,” I said. “There wasn’t a sign. We’re hoping this is the Winters residence?”
“Someone forgot to close the gate again,” the man huffed. “Who are you anyway?”
He didn’t deny that we had the right address. I took a step closer and continued to smile, hoping my cheeks didn’t cramp. “I’m Madison, and I’m looking for Layne Winters.”
The man continued his snooty appraisal of the two of us—how-to lessons from Fab wouldn’t be needed. Unable to help myself, I returned the look.
“You’ve got some gumption; I’ll give you that.” He hawked spit into one of the three potted plants next to the railing.
“When the plant dies, you’ll know why.” I inclined my head towards the pot.
Fab knocked me in the back.
The front door opened again, and an older woman waltzed out in a tent dress splashed with paint, some would say a work of art. One arm was weighed down with an overloaded charm bracelet and several more bracelets, and her platinum hair was fashioned into a twist. “What’s going on, Herb?”
That answered my question, as Herbert and Ines Winters were on title to this property.
“They’re looking for Layne.” He spit again, maintaining eye contact as he did it.
“You’re a little late…” Ines Winters sniffed. “By two years. Dead and buried.” She flicked her hand toward the acreage off to the side of the barn. “If you’re a bill collector—” She gave me a once-over, as thorough as her husband. “—although you don’t look like one—we’re not responsible.”
Dead? What the… “Are you certain?” I was shocked and sounded it.
“I bet you’re here about Cassie.” Ines nodded knowingly and moved to stand next to her husband.
“If that’s all, you two can leave.” Herb pointed back toward the highway.
“Actually, I’m here about your grandson, Logan.” I turned to Fab and telegraphed, Help.
Fab—who’d hung back, reluctant to move closer—stepped up and stood at my side. “We originally came here to locate Layne. I’m sorry to hear that she’s passed on and we want to offer our sincere condolences. Logan is living with a friend, and we’re here in the hopes of reuniting him with his family.”
The couple stared as though dumbfounded. Ines finally broke the tension. “Come up and have a seat.” She claimed one of the oversized chairs on the deck, her husband next to her, the dog never leaving his side.
“Did you have any questions about your grandson?” I was about to show them a picture, but stopped myself when neither said anything. Weirdness crackled in the air.
“Should we be contacting Logan’s father?” Fab asked.
“He died in the same car accident as Layne. Our other daughter, Cassie, stepped up and took over the care of the baby,” Ines informed us. “If there’s an issue, you’ll need to contact her.”
I forced back anger at their lack of curiosity. We were talking about their grandson. Didn’t they want to know what was going on? It also hadn’t escaped my notice—and I was certain Fab had also noticed—that neither had introduced themselves, nor were they interested in our names. If I had to guess, I’d say they were up to their earlobes in illegal. For that reason, I curtailed my interest in the rest of the property.
I decided at that point that I had nothing to lose by being direct—see where that got me. “Cassie and Logan were living in the Keys, and she befriended a neighbor, who also had a child and kid-sat on occasion. Several weeks ago, she left a goodbye note, leaving Logan with the neighbor. We’re here to reunite him with family if that’s possible.”
No longer interested in making intimidating eye contact, Herb shifted his attention to the packet of chew he took out of his pocket, shoving a wad in his cheek. He licked the tips of his fingers and wiped them on his bib.
Ines reached out and patted Herb’s hand, a calculating look in her brown eyes. “As you can see, we’re both older and… have health issues. We’re unable to care for a small child.”
Both appeared damn healthy to me.
“We only met the kid once or twice,” Herb grumbled.
“Do you have any interest in raising Logan?” I asked, hoping that I was wrong about the answer.
Fab broke the silence that hung in the air. “Do you have any way of contacting Cassie?”
It seemed more and more like Cassie wasn’t coming back. The note she’d left had indicated the same thing, but I knew Brad still hoped she’d walk in the door.
Herb unleashed a loud snort. Except for the few noises that the man made, he was content to let his wife do all the talking.
“Cassie is what you’d call a free spirit,” Ines said. “If she ditched the kid, that means she ran out of money. Probably cut off by the bank.”
Fab shook her head. “We don’t know anything about that.” But we’d like to was left unsaid.
“Logan had a small trust fund, and regular payments were made to Layne, but one of the provisions was that those payments would stop if she died and the money would be transferred into another account that Logan can’t access until he reaches eighteen. The bank must’ve found out that Layne was dead and cut off the cash.”
Herb grunted. “Cassie assumed Layne’s identity, as it was the easiest way to keep the kid and fewer questions would be asked.”
I was surprised that they were sharing all this information, since what Cassie had done was a felony.
“Do you have another family member that would be interested in raising Logan?” Fab asked. “One that knows the boy would be helpful. How about Logan’s father’s family?”
Herb shook his head. “Don’t know anything about them. We’d never met, as they weren’t close.”
“It’s not that we’re not interested; we’re just not able,” Ines purred. “It would be wonderful if Logan found a family to care for him.”
“Just so I’m clear…” I started out testily and had to dial it back. “You have no interest
in Logan, and there are no other family members that would be interested. Are you okay with him ending up in foster care? Possibly being adopted by strangers?”
“I’m sure they’d be able to find him a good home. That’s what they’re trained for.” Ines smiled blandly.
“Would you be willing to sign papers releasing any claim on the boy?” I asked, catching Fab’s look of surprise out of the corner of my eye.
“That would probably be for the best,” Ines answered without a second thought.
Fab nudged my elbow and stood. “Thank you for your time.”
Herb stood. “Now’s the time to ask all your questions before you go skirting off,” he said gruffly. “This is private property and the last time you’ll find the gate open.”
What the hell’s the matter with you would end the meet-and-greet unsatisfactorily.
“Can I get your phone number, to give to the lawyer, so he can contact you when the papers are ready?” Fab asked.
That question set Herb off. Anger sparked in his eyes. “We really don’t want to get involved in whatever trouble Cassie’s got herself into. We’d appreciate your leaving. And remember we don’t cotton to trespassers.” He held his hand out to his wife as she stood.
“Nice meeting you,” Ines said as she walked back into the house.
Herb and his dog stood in the doorway, a fierce glare on his face.
The last thing I wanted to say was “thank you,” and when Fab tugged on my arm, I turned and left. Neither of us said anything as we walked back to the car under Herb’s watchful eye.
“I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘nice to meet you’ or some such,” I said in an exasperated tone. “It never once occurred to me that they wouldn’t have a scintilla of interest in their grandson. Not a single question about him. Just their ‘don’t bother me’ attitude.”
Fab U-turned and headed back to the highway. “We’re being followed.” She nodded to the rearview mirror.
I looked in the outside mirror and saw a younger man on a three-wheeler approaching our rear bumper. I pulled my Glock. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s not going to catch us off guard.”
Fab maintained a slow, steady speed as she cleared the trees. The highway was a few feet ahead of us. Once we crossed the ravine, the man got off his bike, pulled the privacy gate across the road, and attached a lock.
“Whatever they’ve got going on there is illegal, and they don’t want anyone, including their own grandson, around,” Fab said as she made the turn that would take us to the highway that cut through the Glades and back home. “As much as I’d enjoy a good snoop around, we’re not coming back here. It wouldn’t be good for our health.”
“I agree with everything you said.” I turned and looked out the window. “What am I going to tell Brad? He’s not going to call Social Services.”
“You’re going to tell him the truth. Then suggest that he talk to a lawyer and figure out his and Logan’s options. Not to be a killjoy, but I bet they suck.”
I pulled out my phone and texted Xander: Find out everything about Cassie Winters. ASAP. I read it to Fab and hit send.
Almost immediately, I got an On it text back.
“You should also ask Xander to track down Layne’s husband’s family. Maybe they’d like to be involved with their grandson, although based on what Herb said, they had no relationship with the boy either,” Fab said in disgust.
“Sounds like the only one interested in Logan was Cassie, and that was just for the money. I was hoping for a happy situation for him.” I sighed. “Assuming everything we heard is true, who could make that up?” I called Xander instead of texting. “Sorry to be burning up your phone.” He laughed. “Logan’s situation just got way more complicated.” I told him about Layne being dead. “Would you expand your search to outside Florida?”
“As soon as I’ve got anything, I’ll call,” Xander said, and we hung up.
“I need something super cold to drink.” I flashed Fab a pitiful smile that earned me a laugh. “If you really want to be a good friend, let’s go shopping.”
“Sorry.” Fab faux pouted. “No room in the schedule.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
As Fab jetted down the highway back to the Keys, I whined enough that she finally pulled into a drive-thru and ordered hamburgers and my favorite strawberry lemonade. Just to shut me up. We ate in the car, which was something we rarely did. As I balled up the trash and got out to dump it, my phone rang.
Fab answered for me and handed it to me, already on speaker, when I got back inside. “You’re not going to be happy.”
I glanced at the screen—Xander. “Tell me Fab’s full of it and she’s just being mean.”
“Don’t get me in trouble with her.”
We both laughed.
“Turns out Cassie Winters has a long arrest record under her married name, Field,” Xander said.
I let out a long sigh. This day just kept getting better.
“She’s been arrested for drugs and guns, and a couple of times, she had large amounts of cash on her that was confiscated. Here’s the interesting part—all the charges were eventually dropped, except for a couple of really old ones. It’s hard to believe, with so many charges, that there’s not one conviction. Another interesting tidbit is that the other people involved did prison time.”
“For my brother’s sake, I don’t want to think this, but I need to know. Can you check for a death certificate for Cassie?” A woman with that kind of track record could easily have ended up dead since she took off.
“I already made a note to myself, figuring you’d want to know,” Xander said. “How did Brad meet Cassie/Layne?”
“Allegra Kent,” I snapped. “The ex-FBI agent who’s currently working for the Chief.”
“Ran into her once. She looked pained to say hi, so now I ignore her and she’s fine with that.” Xander chuckled. “Be interesting to run a background check on her, see if there’s anything interesting that’s not classified.”
“I wouldn’t mind knowing the answer, except I don’t want it to trigger some kind of alert that gets you in trouble.” I hissed out my aggravation. “I hope I don’t regret asking, but is there anything interesting going on at the office?”
Xander hesitated. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I overheard a conversation and was caught and told to mind my own business. I pretended like I hadn’t heard a word, grabbed a snack, and lit out of there. In exchange for the hint I gave you, you need to keep my name out of any drama.”
“No worries there.” We hung up.
“That was rude of someone,” Fab said. “What do you suppose Xander was talking about?”
“One way to find out. We’ll use my needing to update Brad as the reason for a surprise visit to the office and, while there, find out about the other. If Lark knows, she’ll tell us.”
“Didier told me that he didn’t think Lark would last a week, but now they really like her. The other day, she told someone, ‘You should be nicer or I may never put your calls through,’ and hung up. Didier clapped.”
“Survival in Florida is not for the weak. A hint of niceness, and the locals will see it as an invitation to walk all over you. Learned that fast.”
“Thanks to me and those badass lessons I gave you, and now look at you.” Fab laughed.
“I’m positive that I’ve said merci for that six or seven times. Maybe more. And thanks to you, I’m bilingual.”
“Don’t blame that on me.”
I laughed.
Fab morphed into her Queen of the Road attitude and burned it back to The Cove. She hit the Welcome sign, took a shortcut or two, and cruised into the parking lot of the office, opening the security gate from a half-block away. Because why wait? She parked, and we got out and were halfway across the parking lot when Arlo flew out from under the roll-up door and skidded to a stop for a head scratch. We both complied; then he beat it over to the fence to check for squirrels and other bugs.
�
��What’s new?” I yelled, walking into the Boardwalk offices and eying Lark, who waved and then pointed to the guys, who were gathered around the conference table.
“That’s subtle,” Fab whispered.
I wandered over and kissed Creole’s cheek, then leaned over his shoulder to read his paperwork. Boring. I smiled at Brad and sat next to Creole.
Fab kissed Didier and claimed a chair next to him.
“We went to Custer’s this morning,” Didier told us, indicating that he meant him and Creole.
I leaned down and looked under the table. “Dressed like you are now?” Both had on jeans and dress shirts. Neither were amused. “I bet you didn’t get squat in the way of information.” It would be mean to say I told you so.
Didier shook his head. “There’s always something positive to be gleaned from any situation.”
“Didier’s been brushing up on self-help advice on the internet again.” Creole laughed.
Didier unleashed a flood of French on him. Creole and Fab laughed, so I knew it was a good one.
“Custer’s a condescending, uppity pain-in-the-ass, and it surprised me when he turned down cash,” Creole said. “Once we asked about Rick Pierce, his attitude turned downright frigid. Claimed not to know the man and said if we weren’t drinking… get out.”
“I assured the man that we were trying to find Rick’s killer,” Didier said. “He snorted and shot back, ‘Sometimes you need to mind your own damn business. I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew, which I don’t. You should heed my words; it’s healthier.’”
Fab shook her head. “One look at you two, and Custer knew that neither of you were regulars. Probably had you pegged for cops. Him, anyway.” She raised her eyebrows at Creole.
“Creole disabused him of that notion.” Didier laughed.
“Threatened to sic the cops on him, and he laughed. I leaned over the counter. That wiped the smile off his face. He reached for something, and I told him, ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’ That stopped him.” Creole was clearly aggravated.
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