She got the shower going, undressed, stepped in, and closed the frosted glass door behind her. She’d rinsed the shampoo from her hair when she heard his approach.
“Caitlin, you situated?”
“We’re separated by a polite wall of glass. Come on in.” She started conditioner. No reason to rush. “Why so frustrated?”
“Besides the wall of glass?”
“Yes, besides this.”
She looked over the top of the door, pressed her body against the glass. “Can you see my nips?”
Greenwood sat on the edge of the tub, his tie noticeably absent, top two buttons undone. “Sadly no, but you’re rocking out those suds.”
“Seriously, what’s wrong?”
“Paige Lauffer is completely gone.”
Caitlin leaned back, rinsed her conditioner. “That’s why you didn’t text.”
He nodded. “Or call. My phone is really the department’s phone.”
“Nothing on a running app or GPS pings?”
“No luck with the tech, the tip line, or the searches. Same thing as Chapman. At least this time, no one’s made any mistakes.”
“Mistakes? What mistakes?”
He backpedaled. “Nothing, but I wasn’t involved with Chapman from the onset. Not really a mistake as much as a mishandling.”
Caitlin knew Jerry had joined the Chapman investigation late but realized she hadn’t met the person who’d started the process.
He changed the momentum before she could ask. “Ready to tell me what you’re working on?”
One easy way to dodge that question.
She rinsed the last of the soap from her body, opened the shower door, and stepped out naked, dripping wet.
“I’m working on getting you out of those pants.”
* * *
Greenwood didn’t try to hold her. Caitlin didn’t try to stop him from leaving. He’d given her two things—sex and a lead.
She texted Lakshmi. The patient had the munchies. Caitlin appeared at her apartment half an hour later with takeout. She knocked twice, tried the handle.
Unlocked.
She opened the door, set the takeout on the coffee table. “Lakshmi, you here?”
A hoarse groan answered from the bedroom.
Caitlin ran around the corner.
Lakshmi lay star-fished on her back, her maroon panties the only layer between her skin and the puke brown carpet. Her eyes were closed, her breathing labored.
“Lakshmi, are you okay?”
Lakshmi opened her eyes, smiled with her whole face. “I feel great, why?”
Caitlin squatted next to her. “’Cause the door was unlocked and you’re lying on the floor with your tits out.”
Lakshmi giggled. “I got hot.”
Caitlin reached for her un-casted arm. “They said the pills might do that to you.”
“So I had a beer,” Lakshmi said, propped herself up.
“There’s our answer. Let’s put a shirt on and some food on top of those pills.”
She scoured the apartment for liquor while Lakshmi ate, found a bottle of vodka in the freezer. She tucked it under the kitchen sink, then joined Lakshmi on the couch, told her about her run-in with Amireau.
Lakshmi seemed to grasp the main points but clung to consciousness like a drunk to a toilet. She tapped the satellite map on Caitlin’s laptop. “What’s that?”
Caitlin moved the computer closer to herself. “Not a tablet, honey.”
“Sorry. Does Dave have a swimming pool?”
Overhead clouds partially obscured the body of water behind Amireau’s standard-sized mobile home. Much larger than a pool, the area had straight lines around the edges.
Caitlin magnified the image. “It’s an old quarry that filled with rainwater.”
“That bell-end has a pool.” Lakshmi groaned, let a belch escape. “Sorry. That was well rank.”
Caitlin zoomed out to see the area north of the trailer. A thick ridge of forest separated Amireau’s lot from another, much larger quarry. A massive crater full of green-blue water led to acres of stone piles and a small group of buildings on the far end. The site looked active. Caitlin started a search.
“Let’s see who owns the place.”
“Let’s see who owns your face,” Lakshmi echoed. Her eyes-closed time approached.
No luck on the address Caitlin estimated as Amireau’s trailer.
She changed subjects. “Lakshmi, what was the name of the detective who started Angela’s investigation?”
“Greenwood?”
“No, before him. Do you remember their name?”
Her eyes fluttered. “Uh-huh.”
Caitlin relented. “Okay, want to try the bedroom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s what I thought. Can you stand?”
Lakshmi managed the assisted stumble to the bed under Caitlin’s direction.
“Get some sleep, kid.”
“Sheep man,” Lakshmi answered from another consciousness.
“What’s that?”
“Sheep man,” she said again.
“Yep, get some sheep, man. I’ll be out here when you wake up.”
Lakshmi slept away the afternoon. When she woke at ten PM, Caitlin helped her to the bathroom, then another pill.
CHAPTER
42
CAITLIN RELEGATED HER Lakshmi duties to Doris Chapman at nine AM, then drove the rented pickup to Frodo’s apartment.
Mary knocked on her window at ten thirty with a bag of bagels and two cups of coffee. “You want cinnamon raisin or onion?”
“An onion bagel? Don’t you have to talk to people?”
Mary got in. “Anything to keep the horny students away. You’ve got me for three hours. What’s the plan?”
“Caffeinate, sit and wait.”
Caitlin added a creamer to her coffee, stirred the concoction with her finger. “Ouch, that’s lawsuit hot. I need my tongue to work these days.”
Mary swallowed a mouthful like it was an ice-cold milkshake. “Really? You and the detective again?”
Caitlin detailed yesterday’s quickie with Greenwood. Mary countered with her and Aaron’s nocturnal adventures. They spent an hour over their breakfast, talking about the good world, no movement from Frodo’s apartment.
Mary lowered her window, let in another lovely day in the high sixties. “What is it now—noon?”
“Almost.”
“Have you been able to open the folder again?”
So much for the good world. “Not by myself, but yes.”
“Do you want to—”
“Not right now.” Caitlin reached for a pack of gum she’d set in the center console, unwrapped a piece. Maybe if she looked busy, Mary would drop the subject.
“Okay, Caitie. Just so you know, I’m here for whatever you need.”
Caitlin popped the gum in her mouth and turned toward Frodo’s apartment. Anytime, kid.
“Unless you don’t want to talk to me about it?”
Caitlin sighed. “Why would I not want to talk to you about it, Lubbers?”
“I don’t know.” Mary ran her finger along the windowsill. “Did I … do something?”
Besides introduce me to Troy Woods? Caitlin pushed the thought away. “No, but it’s hard for me to talk about and—”
Mary opened her hands. “Let’s talk about that.”
“—and I’ve been able to talk about a little bit, a very, small bit, with Scott Canton.”
“Your old professor? As in the poetry department?”
The mint flavor of Caitlin’s gum now tasted acidic. She took the piece out of her mouth and looked for a scrap of paper. “Also a trained psychologist, Mary.”
Without a word, Mary pulled a wadded napkin out of the fast food bag and handed it over. “But I’m your friend. I used to be your best friend, and you were mine. You were supposed to be my maid of honor.”
Caitlin pressed the gum into the napkin and threw it in the backseat. “What are you t
alking about?”
Mary shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know this is awful. I know you were raped. I get it now. You’re the victim here, not me.”
Caitlin faced her eye to eye, maybe for the first time that morning. “What are you upset about?”
“I know that now, Caitie. Twenty years later. But then, my best friend in the world disappeared without so much as a goodbye.”
“Okay, I was—”
“It’s not like I didn’t make myself available. Emails, phone calls, Christmas cards.”
“I got the cards, Mary. I loved the cards.”
“That’s great. I’m glad.” Mary sniffed tears. “But no matter how much time went by, you didn’t call me.”
Caitlin gripped the steering wheel. “It’s not like I talked to anyone else. I buried myself in my work. Shit, it took two years to have sex again.”
Tears wanted out. Wadded up napkins wouldn’t do the job this time.
She reached for her bag in the backseat, grabbed a pack of travel tissues. She handed Mary a Kleenex, got another for herself.
“Every time I thought about calling you, I found myself right back in the dirt with Woods on top of me. Every email put me back in the hospital or the police station. I was scared, and I was angry, and that had nothing to do with you.” Her nose made a slight honk when she blew. “Gross—sorry.”
Mary put her hand on Caitlin’s arm. “I love you, Caitie.”
Caitlin leaned in for a hug. “Love you, too. Sorry it took so long. One thing though—” She broke the embrace. “For now, you don’t have to bring it up. There’s something safer about talking to a trained professional.”
“I’m a good listener.”
“I know, but do you remember what you said when you got in the car, about the onion bagels?”
She squinted. “About them keeping horny students away?”
Caitlin nodded.
“That was a joke.”
“I know, but my first reaction when you said it was that an onion bagel wouldn’t stop some monster from—”
“I’m sorry.” Mary looked like she might cry again. “I won’t make jokes anymore.”
“Yes, you will. And that’s okay. That’s the difference between a therapist and a friend. I need you to be my friend. Okay?”
Mary smiled. “Okay.”
Caitlin looked to the clock. 12:07 PM.
“Who was your maid of honor?”
Mary laughed. “My cousin Ginger.”
“Wait, Bible-college Ginger?”
“See? My maid of honor was a sober virgin who thought sex involved an hour of prayer instead of foreplay.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Nathan Fodor got in his SUV. Mary followed in her sedan while Caitlin drove to a gas station and used the bathroom.
East toward the farm.
No surprise in Mary’s text. Back in her car, Caitlin played catch-up. One mile from the farm, her phone buzzed again.
He didn’t stop.
Caitlin saw Frodo’s SUV parked in the farm’s driveway. What did Mary mean?
Her phone rang. She set it to speaker.
“Mary?”
“He just drove by the soccer fields in one of the delivery trucks, headed east. Caitlin, I gotta get to work.”
“Don’t worry about it. Get going.”
She saw the entrance to the soccer fields and Mary’s car parked near the gate. “I see you.”
“I see you too,” Mary said.
Caitlin drove past, watching her rearview mirror. Mary pulled into traffic, headed the other direction.
“How far will you follow him?”
Caitlin gunned the accelerator. “I’ve got to catch him first.”
CHAPTER
43
The Bahamas
UNLIKE THE WAVY Lady, a party boat designed to have its nightly sins hosed off, the Queen of the Waves was a regal sailing yacht nicer than most people’s homes. Mike had been shown aboard by a well-dressed Bahamian mate named John. After ten minutes in his cabin, he found his way topside.
Two billowing sails caught the wind. On the top deck, Adam Fodor and Bahamian John faced the open sea.
Mike joined them behind the captain’s wheel. “Now this is a freaking sailboat.”
No hangover today, Fodor looked as clean-cut as Bahamian John. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Got a granola bar?”
Fodor laughed. “For what you’re paying? John, make us both a breakfast burrito.”
“Sure thing, Captain.” John went below.
“Sorry about the fishing thing,” Fodor said. “When the other reservations cancelled, it didn’t make much sense to spend the afternoon casting lines, especially since you cared more about getting laid than life at sea. You know you could have gotten a ferry for half the price, right?”
Mike figured this would come up. “Yeah, I did a web search yesterday. No worries, look at all this.” He gestured out to the water. “Plus, I get a breakfast burrito.”
Fodor nodded. “Stretch out on the recliner. I’ll send John by with your breakfast.”
Mike found a chair, took off his shirt, and kicked off his shoes. Before he could ask for sunscreen, Bahamian John appeared with a bottle of SPF 30, a glass of water, and his burrito.
Mike ate the whole thing, closed his eyes, and let the warm Caribbean sun and wind argue over which would put him to sleep first.
* * *
The waves woke him. Higher than before, choppy even.
“Hey, douchebag.”
The words weren’t as loud as the waves. He opened his eyes, saw the bright blue sky, afternoon sunshine, a bit of cloud. The world shifted with a swell.
He sat up, bobbing in the unstable body of an inflatable Zodiac.
“Fuck me,” he said, realizing he was no longer on the yacht.
“That’s right, fuck you.”
Twenty feet away, Adam Fodor leaned over the railing of the Queen of the Waves, a rope line in hand. Bahamian John stood next to him, holding a rifle. Fodor’s rope kept Mike tethered to the catamaran.
“I looked you up online, Ed,” Fodor said. “I wanted to see this woman who betrayed you. Didn’t find much. Know what I found? Try to guess.”
A simple web search under Mike’s name would bring up his infamous past, but Fodor wouldn’t have found Mike’s name on anything in his bags. He’d mailed his passport and credit cards to a mailbox store in Miami.
Fodor held his phone up. “Small world, am I right?”
“I can’t see—”
“I know, dude. Can’t see from that far. John, what’s on my phone?”
John smiled. “A very beautiful woman.”
“John’s being polite. Here’s a tip. You want to lie about who you’re banging in Miami, don’t pick the adult video performer of the year.”
Not as bad as Mike thought. “Okay, I lied about the girl. I just didn’t want to stay in the Bahamas.”
Fodor kept going. “I thought to myself, if you’re lying about that, what else? Do I know anyone who’d send a liar to the Bahamas just to check on me? Then it hit me.” Fodor swiped at his phone. “I know a psychopath who’d hire someone to check up on me.” He flashed the screen again. Mike saw the image this time. Kieran Michelson’s face filled the screen.
Fodor pulled the phone back, read, “ ‘Too early to say, but Rep Repair in talks with an elite Hollywood private security firm.’ It’s got a picture of you and Spiderman, so you must be elite.”
Fucking Spiderman.
“So you’re gonna leave me out here to die?”
“To die? I’m not Kieran. Look behind you, man. That’s Florida. Two miles. You’ve got your luggage, your phone, all that stuff. Hell, John even slipped a bottle of sunscreen and a few granola bars in your bag.” He reached down, held up a silver oar with rubber paddles. “I’m gonna say my shit, then tie this to the end of the line. You pull it in, you can row to shore. You lose it, you’re close enough that the tid
e will take you in by sunset. I’m not the monster here.”
Mike eyed Bahamian John’s rifle. “Then what’s with the gun?”
“You try to follow us, John will put one through the rubber, and you’ll have to swim with the sharks.”
“Fine,” Mike said. “What’s the shit you have to say?”
“You tell Kieran this is the last run. I don’t want to hear from him or douchebag Dave ever again. As for the business, tell him to get my name off it. I’m out.”
Mike took a gamble. “Why don’t you tell Kieran yourself?”
“No way. I’ll talk to Nate; he can talk to Kieran. If he has a problem with that, remind him that I know things, man. You got it?”
Mike said he did.
Bahamian John climbed up to the captain’s deck. Fodor looped the line around the oar and raised Mike’s way out of Shit Creek. “You die, it’s on you.”
The catamaran’s engine roared to life, the oar dropped into the water. Mike grabbed the line, started pulling. By the time he held the oar, the Queen of the Waves was a dot on the horizon. He dipped the paddle in the water and aimed for America.
CHAPTER
44
CAITLIN ANSWERED HER phone. “The Daily Student.”
Mary laughed. “I’m on the porch swing with a pitcher of sangria and you’re not here. Are you still out at the farm?”
“Oh Mary, the farm is so three-and-a-half hours ago. Also known as the last time I peed.”
She checked the rearview. The Bro-duce truck trailed half a mile back. She sped up to eighty. “I’m ten miles north of Bowling Green.”
“You followed Frodo to Kentucky?”
She took the Mammoth Cave Parkway exit, saw thick forest to the right and a gas station to the left. Sadly, no time to stop. She pulled onto the shoulder of the southbound on-ramp.
“Technically, he’s been following me. Meaning, I pass him, keep him in the rearview, watch for turn signals. When I get somewhere I think he’ll stop, I do the highway patrol thing.”
“What’s the highway patrol thing?”
“I exit, then let him go past me.”
She put the truck in gear, drove back onto the freeway. “Then I get right behind him again.”
“Does that work?”
Caitlin saw Frodo’s truck half a mile ahead. “So far. I think he’ll stop in Bowling Green.”
Come and Get Me Page 17
