by Harlan Coben
Wilde wasn’t afraid of the gun, nor was he tempted to draw his own, but he also saw no reason to antagonize the man any further. He got what was happening here: Crash Maynard had vanished, and Wilde was as likely a suspect as anybody.
The Ecocapsule door opened by the same kind of remote you use to unlock your car door. Wilde reached into his pocket, pulled out the remote, and pressed the button with his thumb. Gavin tucked the gun back into the holster as the hatch door rose. He leaned his head in, looked around, pulled his head back out.
“Sorry about the gun.”
Wilde said nothing.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“The Maynards want to see you. In fact, they insist on it.”
“Going to pull the gun again if I refuse?”
“You really going to hold that over me?” Gavin started down the path. “I said I was sorry.”
Neither man spoke during the short ride to Maynard Manor. In the morning sun, the mansion glittered atop a clearing of grass so uniformly green it might have been spray-painted that color. The painstakingly mowed lawn looked to be an almost perfect square, the house being dead center, with what Wilde estimated to be about three hundred yards of grass on each side before you reach the woods. There was an Olympic-sized pool on the right, a tennis court on the left, and a regulation soccer pitch with freshly laid-out lime in the back.
The SUV came to a stop by an ornate carriage house. Gavin got out of the vehicle. Wilde followed.
“Before we go any further, I need you to sign this.”
Gavin handed Wilde a piece of paper on a clipboard with a pen attached.
“It’s a standard NDA—that’s a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Yeah,” Wilde said, handing it back to him, “I know what an NDA is.”
“If you don’t sign, I can’t tell you any more about what’s going on.”
“Buh-bye then.”
“God, you’re a pain in the ass. All right, forget the NDA. Come on.”
Gavin started walking toward the woods in the back-left corner of the estate.
“Did you really think I, what, I kidnapped the boy?” Wilde asked.
“No.”
“Or hid him in my capsule?”
“Not really, but it was a possibility.”
Gavin kept walking. He stopped in the side yard midway between the house and the woods. “There is where we lose him.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“This morning, Crash wasn’t in his bedroom. We checked the CCTV footage. Security here is fairly extensive as you might imagine. CCTV covers the exterior from the home to right about where we are standing.” He took out his mobile phone, swiped across, turned it toward Wilde. “This is Crash walking past where we are now, probably heading in that direction.”
He pointed to the woods behind him and hit the play button. The camera must have had a night filter on it. On the screen, Wilde watched as Crash traveled from the house, across where they now stood, seemingly on his way to the woods. The time stamp in the lower left-hand corner of the video read 2:14 a.m.
“Anyone else show up on the CCTV before or after him?” Wilde asked.
“No.”
“So you figure Crash ran away.”
“Probably. All we know for certain is that he walked toward those trees.” He turned toward Wilde. “But someone with a strong knowledge of the woods could have been lying in wait.”
“Ah,” Wilde said. “That’s where I come in.”
“To a degree.”
“But you really don’t think I had anything to do with it.”
“Like I said—I was checking the boxes.”
“So I’m here because I happened to question Crash yesterday.”
“Hell of a coincidence that, don’t you think?”
“And Naomi Pine is also missing,” Wilde said.
“Hell of a coincidence that, don’t you think?”
“So there is a connection?”
“Two kids from the same high school class disappear,” Gavin said. “If there’s not a connection…”
“…it’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Wilde finished for him. “What else you got?”
“They’ve been communicating.”
“Naomi and Crash?”
“Yes.”
“Recently?”
“I don’t know. The kid stays ahead of our monitoring—WhatsApp, Signal, whatever apps they use. They’re encrypted. My job isn’t to spy on the family. It’s to protect them.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you protecting them, Gavin? And I mean you, specifically. You read up on me, I read up on you. You don’t do fieldwork anymore, and Dash Maynard is just a television producer. So you’re not here simply to protect him and his family. You’re here because of Rusty Eggers.”
Gavin smiled. “What a deduction. Should I applaud?”
“Only if you feel it’s appropriate.”
“I don’t. It doesn’t matter why I’m here. Two teens have disappeared. You want to find one, I want to find the other.”
“Pool our resources?”
“We have the same goal.”
“I assume you brought me out here for a reason.”
“The Maynards insisted, actually. I figured while you’re here, I’d get your take.”
Wilde looked toward the woods and spotted a path. “You think that’s where Crash was headed?”
“From the angle of the walk on the video, yes. But more than that, that’s also the spot where he recently encountered Naomi Pine trespassing.”
Crash hadn’t “encountered” Naomi—he’d pranked, intimidated, and bullied her. Or at least, that was how Matthew described it. But now was not the time to get into semantics. Wilde started toward the path in the woods to get a better look.
“I assume you don’t have any CCTV coverage of where we are now,” Wilde said.
“That’s correct. We only worry about people near the estate. We aren’t interested in people, especially family members, who voluntarily choose to leave.”
“So,” Wilde said, “your working theory is that Crash met Naomi out here and that they are hiding somewhere together?”
“Seems most likely.”
“Yet you still panicked.”
“We didn’t panic.”
“You had armed men swarm my house.”
“Stop with the dramatics. These are not ordinary times, Wilde. The family is under enormous stress and pressure. Threats have been made—violent and awful threats. You may have seen something about it on the news.”
He nodded. “The Maynards have tapes that could destroy Rusty Eggers.”
“It’s not true, but people believe any crackpot conspiracy they see online.”
They entered the woods via the path. Wilde checked the dirt for footprints. There were a fair number, mostly fresh. “You and your men went through here this morning?”
“Of course.”
Wilde frowned, but in a sense it didn’t matter. Crash Maynard had come out here on his own. There was no one else on the tape. Was Naomi or someone waiting for him? Hard to say via physical evidence. There was a small clearing to the left with the rock where Matthew and Naomi met up. Wilde headed over to it. He knelt down, felt under and around it, and found a few butts, both tobacco and cannabis.
“If this place isn’t covered by CCTV, how did you know about Crash’s ‘encounter’ with Naomi?”
“One of my men was walking the grounds. He heard a bunch of kids laughing.”
“And he didn’t step in?”
“He’s security, not a babysitter.”
A noise familiar to Wilde cut through the air. He looked skyward, through the branches reaching up to the sky of deep dark blue. The chopping sound from the whirring rotors grew louder. Wilde didn’t suffer from PTSD—at least, not the kind that could be clinically diagnosed, but there wasn’t a guy who served over there that didn’t cringe a
t this sound.
He stepped back into the clearing as the helicopter hovered above the side yard. As it descended toward the ground, Wilde sneaked a glance at Gavin Chambers, hoping to get a read on the situation, but if this arrival was known to him, his expression wasn’t giving that away. Even from this distance, Wilde could feel the wind from the rotors of the Bell 427 twin-engine copter, maybe the most commonly used for short flights from, say, New York City out to here, as it touched down. The engine turned off. Whoever was inside waited until the rotors stopped spinning completely. Then the pilot came out and opened the door.
Hester Crimstein stepped out of the copter. She spotted Wilde and Gavin, smiled, and spread her arms wide.
“Can I make an entrance, boys, or what?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Five minutes later, they were all ensconced in the Maynards’ over-the-top library turret. Hester sat across from Dash and Delia. Gavin Chambers stood behind the Maynards. There was an empty burgundy leather wingback chair next to Hester, purportedly for Wilde, but he chose to stand too.
“Can we get you a beverage?” Dash Maynard asked.
Hester looked at Wilde, arching an eyebrow at the word “beverage,” as if understandably annoyed by the use of the word in casual conversation.
“We’re good,” Hester said.
“We appreciate you agreeing to join us on such short notice,” Dash continued.
“You sent a helicopter and offered to pay double my regular rate,” Hester said. “How’s a girl to refuse?”
Delia Maynard had yet to speak. There was a slight tremor in her pale face. Her eyes stared out, unfocused. For a few long moments, no one spoke.
“Hey, listen, I can wait all day—double my usual superexpensive-though-worth-it rate? Mama’s gonna buy herself a new pair of Louboutins, you know what I’m saying?”
Dash glanced at Delia. Wilde glanced out the window behind them. The view was magnificent. The manor was so high up that you could see the skyscrapers of Manhattan above the tree line.
“I’m joking,” Hester said.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, you offered to double my fee. But I don’t work that way. I’ll bill you the same hourly rate as every other client—no more, no less. And I don’t like wasting time, even if I’m on the clock. I don’t need money that badly. I’m rich already. Not as rich as you, Mr. Maynard—”
“Call me Dash.”
“Okay, Dash, cool. Since you seem a little hesitant, let me set a few ground rules to get us off the ground, okay?”
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat, “that might be helpful.”
“First thing: You said on the phone that you wish to engage my services.”
“Yes.”
“So now I’m your attorney. Wonderful, mazel tov.” She glanced up over Dash’s shoulder to Gavin Chambers. “Please leave. This is a private meeting between my client and myself.”
“Oh no,” Dash said. “It’s okay if Gavin—”
“It’s not okay with me,” Hester interjected. “I’m now officially your attorney. What you divulge to me gets locked away under attorney-client privilege. In short, no one can compel me to reveal what you’re about to say. Mr. Chambers here doesn’t get that same legal recourse. He can, like it or not, be compelled to reveal the contents of this conversation. So I want him out.” Hester glanced to her right. “You too, Wilde. Skedaddle.”
Dash said, “But we trust Gavin—”
“Dash? You told me to call you Dash, right? Dash, this is pretty simple. I’m setting up ground rules, like I told you. Rule One: If you want to hire me, you’re going to have to listen to me. If you don’t want to listen to me, well, my driver is on his way out here—I’ll skip that helicopter with that farkakte noise on the way back, thank you—and should be arriving soon. I’ll head back into the city and charge you for the visit, and we will go our separate ways. This isn’t a democracy. I’m your Dear Leader for Life. We understand Rule One?”
Dash looked as though he might argue, but Delia put a hand on his leg.
“We understand,” Delia said.
“Good.”
Gavin said, “I don’t like it.”
“In another lifetime,” Hester said, “I’ll care, really. I’ll shed tears. But for now, shush and depart.”
Dash nodded to Gavin. Gavin threw up his hands and started for the door. Wilde followed behind him.
“Wait,” Delia said.
Both men stopped.
Delia looked at Hester. “We’ve gotten a full briefing on Wilde’s background.”
“You don’t say.”
“He’s still a licensed investigator with CRAW Securities,” Delia said. “You used to employ him to do work for you, correct?”
“And if I did?”
“Employ him again,” Delia said. “For our situation. Then anything he would hear would fall into attorney-client work product, right?”
“Hey, nice thinking.” Hester spun and looked back at Wilde. “Want to work for me?”
“Sure,” Wilde said.
“Then sit down. Don’t stand over me and lurk, it gives me vertigo.”
A few moments later, Gavin Chambers was out of the room. The four of them sat in the leather chairs, Delia and Dash on one side of the teak coffee table, Hester and Wilde on the other.
“I don’t understand,” Dash said. “If you could hire Wilde as your investigator, why can’t you hire Gavin.”
“Because,” Hester said.
“Because why?”
“Because I said so. You flew me out here on a helicopter because I assume your situation is urgent. Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Wilde raised his hand. “Not yet.”
Hester turned to him. “What?”
“Colonel Chambers was trying to monitor your son’s communications.”
“Of course he was,” Dash said. “That was part of his job.”
But Hester had already put both hands on the arms of the chair, and with a grunt, she lifted herself to a standing position. “Let’s go outside.”
“What for?” Dash asked.
“For all we know, your new chief of security put listening devices in this room.”
That knocked both Dash and Delia back for a moment.
“You don’t understand,” Dash said. “We trust Gavin implicitly.”
“You don’t understand,” Hester countered. “I don’t. And I’m not so sure your wife does either.” She started for the door. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. It’s nice outside, it’ll do us all some good.”
Dash once again looked at Delia. She nodded and took his hand. They headed down a spiral staircase, passing a confused Gavin Chambers, and headed outside. Their twins were practicing with a coach on the soccer pitch.
“The girls don’t know what’s going on,” Dash said. “We’d like to keep it that way.”
They walked toward the middle of the yard, nearly taking the same path their son had on that CCTV recording last night. The day was gorgeous, almost mockingly so. Wilde saw Hester spot the view of Manhattan, her home now, and she watched the skyscrapers as though they were old friends.
When they were far enough from the house, Hester said, “So why am I here?”
Dash launched straight into it. “This morning, when we woke up, our son Crash was gone. The early signs pointed to him visiting a friend late at night or, at worst, running off. Mr. Wilde here knows the situation.”
Hester said, “Okay.”
Delia cupped a hand over her eyes to block the sun. She looked up at Wilde. “Why did you corner our son at the school yesterday?”
“Whoa.” It was Hester. “Don’t answer that. Let’s get me up to speed before we start down any of those roads, okay?”
“The road is a simple one,” Delia said. “Because of our current situation—”
“What situation?”
“Last night, Saul Strauss was a guest on your show,” Delia said.
&n
bsp; “Right, so?”
“He made accusations involving us.”
“I assume you’re talking about you guys possessing incriminating tapes?”
Delia nodded. “Purportedly on Rusty Eggers, yes.”
“I thought he was full of it,” Hester said. “They exist?”
“No,” Delia said, “they do not.”
No hesitation, Wilde noted. Didn’t mean she was telling the truth, of course. But there was zero pause, zero wrong body language—just a straight-up denial.
“Go on,” Hester said.
“When we discovered Crash was missing,” Dash said, “Colonel Chambers and his team immediately started a search. All early signs pointed to the fact that our son ran away on his own. There is CCTV of him leaving the manor alone, seemingly voluntarily.” Dash turned his glare onto Wilde. “Still—and I think this is a natural response—Colonel Chambers made sure that the man who yesterday held our son against his will at his school wasn’t involved. You know this, of course, Ms. Crimstein—you saw it on FaceTime. We want to know the reason why Mr. Wilde here felt the need to confront our son in his own school. I think our concern is understandable.”
Hester nodded. “So that’s why you had Chambers bring Wilde here.”
“Yes.”
“And you figured by hiring me, you’d get him to talk.”
Delia spoke up now. “No. We hired you because things have changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t think Crash ran away on his own anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Delia said, “we just received a ransom note.”
* * *
The ransom note had come in via anonymous email.
Dash handed his phone to Hester, who hunched over so her body would block the sun glare on the screen. Wilde read it over her shoulder:
We have your son. If you do not do exactly what we say, he will be executed. We don’t want that, but we believe in freedom and freedom always comes at a price. If you contact the FBI or law enforcement, we will know about it and we will immediately execute Crash. If you think you can contact the authorities without us knowing, you are wrong. We were able to kidnap your son despite all your expensive security. We will know, and your son will suffer greatly.
