by Sandra Brown
“Drex gets a scolding, nothing more. You’ve got to promise me that you won’t come down hard on him. He hasn’t done anything yet. He’s only talked about it.”
“I promise.”
Mike laughed. “You agreed way too fast, Rudkowski. You think I’d trust that?”
“I give you my word.”
“Like that counts for shit. I want it in writing.”
Rudkowski thought it over. “I’ll be as lenient as I can be. That’s the best I can offer. It’s not just me you’ve got to worry about, you know.”
“But your influence—”
“Will only go so far. They don’t call it a bureau for nothing. I’ve got to account to my higher-ups here in Louisville.”
Mike knew that to be the truth. “I guess that’ll have to be good enough.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Yes. But I want witnesses to my voluntary surrender of information. I’ll turn over everything I have, but not before getting your sign-off on it, plus passes for Drex, Gif, and me.”
“Easton won’t thank you.”
“That’s what kept me awake last night. He’ll be pissed. But I hope I can convince him that he still has my loyalty. We share a commitment to getting this guy and putting him away.”
Rudkowski scoffed. “‘This guy.’ Nobody has proved there is a guy.”
“There’s a guy. You just don’t want to think so because you haven’t identified and captured him yourself. While he’s out there rooking and killing women, you’ll shuffle paper and look busy until the day you can retire.”
“While Easton is a man of action.”
He said it derisively, but Mike smiled. “You’re making my argument for me, Rudkowski. You’ve always put your resentment of Drex ahead of getting the bad guy. This creep is real, and I hope to God Drex eventually nails him.” He hesitated.
“But this time feels different, and it spooks me. I’ve felt it from the start, but new information has recently come to light. We’re talking about one sick dude, not just a con man. Gif has had a bad feeling, too, and we told Drex we did.”
“But he thinks he’s smarter than everybody.”
“He’s definitely smarter than you,” Mike said. “But he’s also single-minded and hardheaded. In typical Drex mode, he’s latched on to this intel and is running with it. I’m scared he’s running toward a cliff at full throttle, and, if he goes over, he’ll crash land. I told him that I wouldn’t help him dig his own grave. Or mine, either. And I’m not getting any younger.” He paused, cleared his throat. “I love him like a kid brother. But this time the stakes for stepping out of line are just too damn high.”
“You’re doing the right and responsible thing.”
Reverting to his customary snarl, Mike rebuked him. “Don’t sound so goddamn pious, Rudkowkski. You’ve already peed down your leg over this. Relish the moment. Have your field day. But I’m not feeling a bit good about what I’m doing. I’m betraying my best friend, even if it is for his own good.”
Rudkowski had the good sense not to offer another platitude.
Mike took a deep breath and sounded like a bellows when he exhaled it. “Shit, let’s get this done. We’ll meet at my office. I like the idea of having witnesses who like me better than you.”
“When?”
“I’ll leave now. Before I change my mind.” He glanced at his wall clock. “I usually don’t head to work this early. Will your watchdogs let me out of my driveway?”
“I’ll call them. See you soon.”
They disconnected. Five minutes later, Mike placed another call. Drex answered after the first ring. “Did it work?”
“Like a charm,” Mike said. “I’m on my way to Atlanta. Sammy said to tell you hi.”
Drex called Gif to report their success. “Mike must have laid it on thick, because Rudkowski fell for it. Imagine when he showed up at Mike’s office ready to get the goods.”
He told Gif that Mike had given Rudkowski just enough time to call the men watching his house and then had raised his garage door so they could see his car and think that he was about to leave as planned.
He’d carried out an armful of files—filled with back issues of epicurean magazines—and placed them in the passenger seat. He’d then gone back into the house and carried out a box—with back issues of Wine Spectator—which he placed in the back seat.
He’d gone inside the house again…and out the back door. He’d walked through the houses behind his. Sammy had been waiting on the next street in a standard gray car that looked like every other make and model of standard gray car.
“Motor was running,” Drex told Gif. “Mike got in. They were off.”
“I wonder how long it took before those agents realized he’d split?”
“I don’t know, but whenever Rudkowski learned about it, he would’ve combusted.”
“I get the feeling that this escape plan wasn’t hatched by Mike.”
Drex snuffled. “I know you advised me to stop pricking with Rudkowski, but—”
“But you can’t resist a chance to get his goat.”
“The important thing is, Mike is out from under his thumb.”
“What if they canvass the neighborhood? Somebody could have noticed Sammy and remember the car.”
“We took that into account. Sammy drove Mike to a picnic area a few miles outside of town where he’d left another car. Mike preferred the gray sedan, but Sammy argued that it might not be as standard as it looked.”
“Hot?”
“Mike didn’t ask. Anyway, he’s Atlanta bound in a midnight blue minivan.”
The summary had taken longer than was necessary to relay the facts. They were dancing around the subject that overrode all others. Gif seemed as reluctant to bring it up as Drex was to address it.
Gif gave in first. “Have you seen them stirring this morning?”
“No.” Since Gif had asked about “them,” collectively, it wasn’t exactly a lie of omission that Drex didn’t tell him about his dawn encounter with Talia. “But I listened in on their breakfast. Jasper told her he was going to let his meal settle and then go to the club for a swim. She asked if he was packed. He said he would pack when he got back from the club, leading me to think they’re not leaving until this afternoon.”
“Could be they’re going to drive.”
“No, they agreed they could get by without checking luggage. Delta has direct flights at three forty-six and five-nineteen. I’m thinking they’ll be on one of those, but we won’t know which until they leave the house. Any time past two o’clock would put them in a tight squeeze to make the three forty-six.”
“Are they driving themselves?”
“They didn’t say, but I’ll call you as they’re leaving. Be ready to move. I want you stationed at the airport, near security to confirm that they go through.”
“Without her seeing me.”
“Without her seeing you.”
“And you?”
“I’ll follow them in my car as far as the airport to make sure that’s where they’re headed. If they take another direction, I’ll continue following until you can catch up with me. If they do go to the airport, I’ll let you know to watch for them, then I’ll circle around, come back here, and—”
“Break and enter.”
“With any luck I won’t have to break anything.” Gif didn’t respond to the quip. Drex sighed. “Don’t start again.”
“It’s risky, Drex. Why take such a chance?”
“Because we’ve established that legal channels are closed, and I don’t know any other way.”
“Okay. But you don’t have to go it alone. After I see them off, why don’t I join the search? Another pair of eyes and hands would halve the time it will take.”
“Nope. It’s my plan, so my neck is the only one on the block. Besides, if I’m caught, I’ll need you to rush in waving your badge and getting me out of hock with the local cops.”
“I’d rather you not get cau
ght.”
“Goes without saying.”
“What are you doing now?”
He was doing what he’d been doing since his exchange with Talia at dawn: wishing that Jasper had rushed up the stairs and kicked in his door. He wished Jasper had tried tearing him limb from limb. He would have demonstrated to him and his lying wife what animal impulses unleashed looked like.
But to Gif he said, “Killing time till they leave.”
He paced. He sat. He eavesdropped on the Fords’ intermittent conversations as they came and went from the kitchen, but nothing substantive had come from those exchanges. If Talia had told Jasper about seeing him that morning, and what had been said, she’d done so outside his hearing. The climate between the two of them seemed to have warmed from what it had been the night before.
It gave Drex no pleasure to speculate on what had brought that about.
At 10:05, Jasper left the house alone. He returned at 12:36.
Knowing that they could be leaving at any time soon after that, Drex posted himself at the window and began an uninterrupted vigil. At 2:07, his phone buzzed. He answered. Gif said, “The five nineteen flight?”
“Looks like. Stand by.”
Three o’clock rolled around. Three fifteen arrived, and still there was no sign of them. By 3:22, with Drex on the verge of imploding, Jasper’s car backed out of the garage.
Drex called Gif. “They’re rolling.”
“Car service?”
“He’s driving.”
“On it.”
They clicked off. Drex watched to see which way the car turned out of the driveway, then waited at the door and counted slowly to fifty before bounding down the stairs.
He didn’t pick up their tail until he reached a major thoroughfare and saw their car stopped at a traffic light. Several cars were between them. He slowed down to let more pass him to create a safer barrier without blocking them from sight. He followed them across the bridge into Charleston, then north on the freeway toward the airport.
Jasper stayed within the speed limit and stuck to the outside lane, making him easy to follow. When Jasper signaled to take the airport exit off the freeway, Drex called Gif. “Looks like it’s a go. You in place?”
“Trying not to make myself conspicuous to ATF.”
“We’re here. Hang on.” Staying a discreet distance behind Jasper, Drex followed him toward the parking garages and reported to Gif when Jasper entered the short-term one directly across the street from the terminal. “They should be coming your way in a matter of minutes.”
“Roger that. Eyes peeled.”
“I’m on my way back to the house.”
He decided to go in through the screened porch, the obvious reason being that it couldn’t be seen from the street. But, also, that was the area of the house with which he was most familiar.
The latch on the screen door didn’t present a challenge. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and had the flimsy lock busted within seconds. The lock on the solid back door took longer to pick, but he managed it easily enough. Then, with Mike’s foreboding about booby traps in mind, he held his breath and pushed open the door. The alarm began to beep. He punched in the new code as he’d heard Talia recite it the night before.
The beeping ceased.
He closed the door. Moving from window to window in the kitchen, he scanned various sections of the property, looking for a sign that he’d been spotted. But there was no movement except for rainwater dripping from the eaves and causing ripples in the puddles beneath.
Satisfied that he’d gotten inside without detection, he let out his breath, and that exhalation was the only sound in the house. The silence was absolute. No ticking clock or hum of an electrical appliance, no gentle whirring of air passing through a vent. Nothing.
Adding to the eeriness of the silence was the gloom. Blinds and shutters had been left open, but the dreary day had created a premature dusk. The light that did leak into the house was so feeble, Drex had to give his eyes time to adjust to the dimness.
When Mike had recovered the real estate listing for the house, he’d printed out the included floor plan. Drex had familiarized himself with it so, even though he’d only been in a few of the downstair rooms, he knew the layout of the house. He made his way from the kitchen, through the formal dining room, and into the two-story foyer where the main staircase curved gracefully upward to the second floor.
He had decided to begin upstairs, do a general walk-through to see what each room consisted of and determine what it might yield, then search the spaces one by one in order of priority.
He climbed the stairs to the landing. Extending from it was a wide hallway, and midway down it, a set of double doors. He pushed them open and stepped into the master suite. Moving his gaze from left to right, he took in the entire room, mentally cataloguing the furnishings. The bed was positioned even with the double doorway and directly in front of him. He walked over and stood at the foot of it.
They’d left it made, decorative throw pillows attractively placed. Identical night tables bracketed the upholstered headboard. The items on them indicated who slept on which side of the bed. On Jasper’s were a lamp and alarm clock only. On Talia’s were a matching lamp and alarm clock, but also a crystal tray holding several pieces of jewelry, which she must have removed just before climbing into bed. Drex recognized the bracelet and a pair of gold hoop earrings that she’d worn to dinner on Thursday night.
A crystal pump bottle contained what appeared to be hand lotion. He told himself not to, but he rounded the end of the bed, leaned down, and sniffed. It was her fragrance, and it caused a twinge of longing. He cursed himself for being a damn fool.
Not allowing himself to dwell on the evidence of marital domesticity, he rapidly looked through the drawers of her night table. A hardcover fiction book, a paperback travel book on Norway, a box of personalized stationery in the name of Talia Shafer. Not Ford. That gave him a small sense of satisfaction.
The drawers contained nothing remarkable or intensely personal. Thank God. He couldn’t have borne that. But maybe Jasper kept the sex toys in his nightstand.
Drex moved to that side of the bed and opened the drawers one by one. He didn’t find items used for sexual enhancement or kinky bedroom antics. He didn’t find anything. Nothing. Nada. The drawers were empty. He tapped on the back of the piece to see if it was false. It seemed solid, and the inside dimensions of the drawer matched those of the outside.
He looked under the bed. No doubt Jasper would find that highly amusing. There was nothing there.
Next he went to a chest of drawers. The first drawer he opened attested that it was Jasper’s. Undershorts—an expensive name brand—were folded and lined up in rows that a seasoned valet would have been challenged to match in terms of straightness. The sock drawer was the same. In one drawer, the arrangement of silk pocket handkerchiefs looked like a canvas of modern art.
Drex was tempted to upend each drawer on the floor, if for no other reason than to make a mess in Jasper’s pristine environment. He decided to wait until he had finished his overview, but damned if he wasn’t going to start with this drawer of fancy hankies.
Jasper’s closet looked like a men’s store on Rodeo Drive. Impeccable. Every garment was perfectly hung with an inch of space in between. Shirts, pants, jackets were grouped by color. His shoes were aligned as though he’d used a ruler to make sure the toes didn’t extend beyond the edge of the shelf.
Had Jasper arranged everything with such precision so he would know if somebody had touched his things?
Drex was pondering that when his cell phone vibrated, startling him and causing him to jump. He pulled the phone from his jeans pocket and answered in an unnecessary whisper. It was Gif.
“They didn’t show.”
“What?”
“They didn’t show.”
“What’s that mean?”
Gif made a sound of impatience. “They didn’t check in or go through security.”
“You must have missed them.”
“No, I didn’t. Security is in plain sight.”
“But I saw him drive into the garage.”
“That may be, but they’re not on that flight. I pretended to be running late and asked a ticket agent if I had time to make it. She told me the door of the plane had already been closed. It’s probably taxiing as we speak.”
Drex checked his watch and figured that Gif was right. His mind was careening, trying to process this. “Talia’s in the travel industry. She must have some kind of escort service that bypasses regular security.”
“I guess that’s possible.”
“What else could it be?”
“Private plane?” Gif ventured.
“They wouldn’t have used public parking.”
“Right.”
“Can you get to the garage, check to see if their car is still there?”
“Sure, but it’ll take me a minute.”
“Stay on the line.”
“Okay. But, Drex, if they changed their minds and are on their way home, you’ve got to get out of there.”
“Way ahead of you.” He pulled the double doors closed as he left the bedroom and hit the staircase at a run. The gloaming had turned darker but he was disinclined to turn on his flashlight. The flashlight on loan from Jasper.
Gif asked, “Have you disturbed anything?”
“No, I was saving that. Are you at the garage yet?”
Gif was puffing. “Almost. What’s he drive?”
“Black Mercedes SUV. Shit!”
“What was that?”
“I bumped into a corner of the dining table. Why would they have changed their minds? Goddammit! I thought I’d have days of free access to this house.”
Gif was growing shorter of breath. “Plans made on short notice get changed, canceled.”
“But they were talking about it this morning. The weather forecast for Atlanta. What they should pack. How casual or dressy did they want to be. They went on for a full five minutes about—”
“Okay, I’m in the garage. Which way?”
Drex had come to a dead standstill in the center of the kitchen and repeated in his head what he’d heard himself say.