That Way Lies Madness: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 8)

by Scott Cook

  “I know. And I know who Shade is. Its Bill Garelli, former Providence detective and a friend I’ve known for twenty years. I’ve got his wife and… and Colonel… she’s out of her mind…”

  There was a long pause, “I know. That number you gave me is indeed a foreign bank account. An account for a bank in the Caymans. Bill and West are the signatories. It’s also linked to another account in Garelli’s name only. The first account is empty, but the second has nearly four hundred thousand dollars in it.”

  “Why would Bill and West share an account?”

  He sighed, “It seems that Garelli would make deposits into the account on a regular basis. Ten grand each time. Then the next day, West would request a wire transfer.”

  “Blackmail?” I asked.

  “That’d be my guess,” Grayson replied. “Listen, we can talk about this later. How fast can you get to TF Green?”

  “I’m fifteen minutes away,” I replied, “Why?”

  “I’m there now in a private plane waiting to pick you up,” he said. “Just landed five minutes ago.”

  “What about Lisa?” I asked.

  “We’ve got her on the GPS,” He said after a moment’s pause. “She volunteered to have a tracker installed in her clothing just in case.”

  I felt anger rise inside me, “In case you wanted to use her as a Judas goat you mean, don’t you, Colonel?”

  “It was bound to happen sooner or later, as well you know,” He said. “At least this way we have a chance of tracking them down. He’s headed out of Orlando even as we speak and going south. If we move now, we may be able to intercept him.”

  I let go a string of oaths. I was furious but knew that this wasn’t the time to deal with that. I took a steadying breath, “I’m on the way, Colonel. Where do we go?”

  He told me to go to the airport and to the commercial section. A Gulfstream 700 would be waiting for me. I wasn’t exactly sure what that would look like, but it sounded impressive.

  I had to say good-bye to my family and explain the situation. They looked grave but there really was nothing they could do. Wayne and I had to move and hopefully we could move fast enough.

  Sam only made a minimal protest. She seemed to be wavering between meek sadness and almost uncontrollable hatred. It was beyond bizarre and I was thoroughly convinced that whatever it was she was about to tell me before Grayson called was something that had literally pushed her into the pit of madness. I didn’t want to believe it… I found it hard to imagine… yet unless she was an incredible actress, this beautiful, vibrant and intelligent young woman was quite probably irretrievably insane.

  I think the Gulfstream 700 might be the biggest plane the company makes. It’s just over a hundred feet long with a wingspan about the same. The interior, aside from the flight deck, featured a galley, conference table, wet bar and seating for eight. Apparently there was a sleeping area and head aft of this section as well.

  Grayson met the three of us at the base of the plane’s stairs and shook my and then Wayne’s hands. He then ushered us aboard, taking special care to guide the now laconic Samantha Garelli up the stairs. He ducked his head into the cockpit and told the pilot’s we were ready to take off.

  We then got settled into the seats abaft the conference section, taking care to buckle Sam in.

  “Just until we take off,” Grayson said. “Sorry to cut your visit short.”

  I shrugged, “The fam was bummed that we had to leave so soon… but they understand that duty calls.”

  “We can always come back,” Wayne said. “Although I don’t mind flying back in this kind of style, Colonel.”

  “Just call me Warner, Wayne,” Grayson replied.

  The private jet lifted off the outer runway of Theodore Francis Green International Airport and began to bank south as we rose to our cruising altitude of forty-five thousand feet.

  The seatbelt light went off and the pilot announced that we were free to move about the cabin. Our flight time to Orlando would be one hour and fifty minutes.

  “Damn,” Wayne said with a whistle. “The flight up took closer to three hours.”

  “We cruise at Mach 0.9,” Grayson explained. “About six-hundred and seventy miles per hour. Most commercial jets stay around five or five-fifty. Can I get anybody a drink?”

  I scoffed, “Make it a double, Colonel.”

  He looked at Sam who only seemed to be watching us impassively, “and you, Miss?”

  She only nodded.

  Grayson went forward and came back with a Scotch and ginger ale for Wayne and Sam and then went forward again and brought back two double Jameson on the rocks for him and myself. The three of us clinked and I took a sip of the liquor, grateful that it would soon take the razor’s edge off my tension.

  Sam almost downed hers in a single gulp. She just chugged it down and handed her glass to Grayson. Almost instantly, although it probably took nearly a minute, Sam’s head began to droop and she quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  A small trim black woman dressed in cream colored slacks and a light peach button down blouse emerged from the sleeping cabin and sat next to Sam. I thought at first that the very pretty woman, who was probably in her late twenties, might be a flight attendant. Yet when she began to take Sam’s pulse and examine her eyes under the lids, I thought differently.

  “Gents, this is petty officer first-class Amanda Wilson, Navy corpsman,” Grayson said by way of introduction. “How is she, Doc?”

  “Sleeping like a baby, Colonel,” Wilson replied. “She’ll be out for a couple of hours. If one of you handsome boys would help me get her aft, I’ll secure her in a bunk.”

  I saw the war of emotions play across Wayne’s face. On the one hand, here was this petite and attractive woman he could flirt with… and on the other, she was close in size and had an open demeanor that reminded us both of Sheila. I stood and gathered Sam into my arms.

  After settling her into one of the beds in the sleeping compartment, Wilson and I went forward again to find Grayson and Wayne sitting at the conference table.

  “Have a seat,” Grayson indicated a couple of comfy leather chairs. “We’ve got a lot to go over. Scott, you all right? You look a little haggard.”

  I sat next to Amanda and chuckled sardonically, “A little, Colonel. It’s been a night of revelations… and none of them good. One of my oldest friends is a lunatic and his wife, another of my oldest friends, all but turned into a madwoman in front of our eyes… that’s one I just don’t get.”

  Grayson looked to the petty officer, “Amanda?”

  “What I’m about to tell you is classified,” Amanda began. “Not so much for national security, but the records have been sealed. A little over two years ago, Samantha Garelli was committed to Butler Hospital in Providence.”

  “Committed?” I asked in surprise.

  Grayson sighed, “At first she was being treated at the Gateway facility in Cranston, but I guess her condition was too severe and they moved her to Butler for extended treatment and care.”

  I felt like I’d been punched, “I didn’t know anything about this… how long was she there?”

  “A little over three months,” Amanda explained. “She was being treated for dissociative disorder brought on by extreme and extended emotional trauma… in addition to her physical trauma.”

  “Isn’t that what they call schizophrenia now?” Wayne asked softly.

  Amanda nodded, “Yes.”

  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, “Three months…? How is it I didn’t know about this? Bill and I talked during that time… although Sam was never around…”

  Wayne looked at me for a long moment, took a deep breath and asked: “What happened?”

  “Evidently there was a large cocaine deal in the works toward the end of the summer of 2017,” Grayson stated. “Garelli received a tip from his source, and that source possibly was working both sides of the street. At any rate, the drug smugglers who were attached to the Ravetti family, foun
d out about the setup to bust them and the detective in charge of it. So they set up an insurance policy.”

  “Oh Jesus…” I moaned, having a pretty good idea of where this was going.

  Amanda took over, reaching out and taking my hand, “They kidnapped Mrs. Garelli and held her for several days. They… they abused her. They beat her and took turns raping her. Possibly as many as ten times.”

  I felt heat rising into my eyes and a lump in my throat. Beautiful and vibrant Samantha, being tortured just so a drug shipment wouldn’t be stopped. At least I assumed so.

  “They… presented Bill with video proof,” Grayson said solemnly. “He had no choice. He screwed up the sting and the drugs were able to slip through. The Department had its suspicions, especially when they found out about Samantha… but under the circumstances, they took no action. The City of Providence paid for her treatment and care. After her stay at Butler, she was released and all reports were that she was okay, but…”

  “But apparently not,” Wayne finished, his own voice sounding strained. “Neither of them were.”

  I quickly stood up and walked aft. I heard the three of them talking, but it was as if from very far away.

  “Let him go,” I heard Wayne say. “Just give him a minute. He’s probably feeling a lot of guilt right now… on top of more.”

  “But it’s not his fault,” Amanda stated matter-of-factly.

  A pause and Wayne said: “Scott… Scott has a deeply rooted desire to help people, to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. And when it comes to those he cares about… no, it’s not a hero complex.”

  “He’s just a hero,” I barely heard Grayson utter. “I know. That’s why we want him so badly.”

  “This is on top of guilt he feels for other things, too,” Wayne said soft enough that I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. At the time I didn’t really pay any attention, but I remembered it later. “The death of my girlfriend for one. Scott doesn’t accept defeat easily.”

  I moved into the sleeping area and I couldn’t hear them anymore. I stood over Sam’s bunk and took her hand in mine. It was so small, so frail… she seemed so very vulnerable.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam,” I whispered, feeling the heat of tears leaking from my eyes. “If only I’d known…”

  What could I have done after the fact? Nothing, absolutely nothing. On the other hand, maybe if Bill had confided in me, I could’ve helped them somehow. Prevented Bill and I suppose Sam, from choosing the dark path they’d evidently gone down. A path of fear, then anger and finally hate. A hate that burned so bright that it boiled away that part of the psyche that prevented the mind from doing evil.

  I could understand now, to a degree, how Bill might feel. How his desire to uphold the law had been perverted into a seething desire for revenge against those who abused the system and abused the innocent and got away with it. Fury at how his seemingly futile fight in the drug war had led only to another innocent casualty. How his struggle to do good only led to horrific bad.

  I could understand, but I couldn’t approve. Bill had gone past the edge and was now lashing out at anyone and anything that he decided he didn’t like. He cared nothing for those he hurt or the consequences to others. In his mad quest to find some kind of peace for himself and for his wife… I had to think that was part of it… he’d become just as evil as the men who’d hurt her in the first place.

  A hand rested on my shoulder and a cloth napkin was pushed into my hand. Wayne’s soft voice said: “you okay?”

  I cleared my throat, sniffed and wiped my eyes, “Yeah… just great.”

  The hand squeezed, “I know… sat on your keys. It’s okay, brother.”

  He pulled me into a hug then. I think it was as much for him as for me. A show of support and strength we could both use right then.

  Wayne pulled away and grinned, “Now wipe your face, honey. Let’s go back out and look pretty.”

  “Fuck you, Wayne,” I said with a chuckle.

  Grayson nodded at us when I returned to the table. Amanda looked concerned. Her large pretty golden eyes seemed filled with understanding. She gave my hand a quick squeeze when I sat down.

  “Okay,” I said, composing myself. “What’s the situation with Bill and Lisa?”

  “She’s got a GPS tracker in her shoe,” Grayson explained, opening up a laptop. On the screen was a map of Florida, zoomed in to the southwestern peninsula. On the map, a blinking dot was moving south on I-75. “They’re headed south. I’m not sure to where. My thinking is that he’s got a hideout someplace or he’s meeting somebody and getting out of the country.”

  “With four hundred grand,” Wayne noted. “He can’t last too long, even if he sets himself up in some banana republic.”

  Grayson frowned, “We’ve been monitoring that Cayman account. Although it hasn’t gone through yet, there is a transaction pending for twenty million dollars.”

  “Christ…” Wayne said. “That’ll keep him in plantains.”

  Amanda smiled, “And then some.”

  I leaned forward, “he’s got Cynthia Bartlett, too.”

  Wayne looked surprised, “How do you figure that?”

  I sighed, “She’s divorced and got fifty mil in the settlement. Figure after taxes and whatever, she’s still got a big wad left. Where else would he get twenty-million?”

  Grayson nodded, “That’s exactly right. We’ve been in contact with Bank of America as well. The big branch downtown initiated the transfer this morning. We’ve put a stop to it, though.”

  I frowned, “And when Bill learns that? His two… at least two… hostages could be in mortal danger, Colonel.”

  “We know that,” Grayson said firmly. He didn’t sound insulted, however. “The transfer will go through, but it’ll be re-routed back to the U.S. after we catch him. He won’t be able to access the account until he leaves the country anyway. He won’t need to, either. He’s already withdrawn a considerable sum from his own personal account.”

  “You didn’t freeze it?” Wayne asked.

  “No, we don’t want him to know anybody in law enforcement knows,” Grayson said. “At least not yet.”

  “He knows I know,” I said. “I’ve already told him. And I’ve told him I have his wife.”

  “Good,” Grayson said. “If anything, that’ll make him incautious. Right now he doesn’t know where you are, right?”

  “No… he knows I was in Warwick, of course,” I replied. “He’ll figure that now that I know he’s got Lisa, I’ll be coming back to get him.”

  “Then his plans are probably going to have to be changed or pushed up,” Grayson said. “Forcing his actions means he’s more likely to make a mistake. So we’re going to keep track of him and land as close to him as possible.”

  “The problem is,” Wayne said, looking at me almost apologetically, “that while Shade… Bill… might have to improvise, adapt and overcome… he may also be more likely to…”

  “Get rid of any excess baggage,” Grayson stated plainly, sparing Wayne from having to say what would probably upset me. “Sorry, Scott.”

  “I know that,” I said. “For a while, though, Lisa and Cynthia are human shields for him. They’re safe for now because he can use them as leverage if need be.”

  Grayson nodded, “So that’s why we need to catch him. The sooner the better.”

  Wayne and I exchanged a look. I think that the same thought passed between us. Grayson was interested in capturing Shade. Bringing a criminal to justice.

  Although I felt pity for Bill and far more for Samantha, he’d gone too far down the dark path to ever come back. Bill Garelli had to pay for his actions.

  Wayne and I were too much soldiers of the light to simply execute him out of hand. We’d attempt to capture Bill. However, I knew full well that he wouldn’t make it easy.

  If it came to it, either Wayne or I would make sure that Shade never hurt another soul again.

  Chapter 26

  From the cas
e file of Gonzalez and her faithful lackey

  Lisa’s journal entry 6

  “Who are you?” I asked, feeling fear but trying not to show it.

  I kept looking back at the Francos, who were definitely alive. Shade had tied them up and placed duct tape over their mouths. Other than that, they seemed okay, at least in the dark.

  Shade had taken my weapon, of course. He’d also removed my night vision monocular, chuckling as he did so.

  “Would it matter if I told you?” He asked in return.

  I glared at him, “Oh, it would matter a lot. Then I’d be able to put a name to the corpse.”

  He threw back his head and laughed uproariously, “Such a feisty one. No wonder Scotty keeps you around… hell, no wonder he let you come back after running off and fuckin’ some other guy. Bet that made him a little jealous, huh?”

  I clenched my jaw.

  “Nothing to say?” Shade asked. “So who’s better? That rich guy or ol’ Jarvis?”

  “You’re a sick fuck,” I snapped.

  He chuckled, “Am I? Maybe I am, Lisa… maybe I am. Hell, it’d be preferable. Gives me an excuse, right? Maybe we’ll find out if I’m better than either one of them, though, how’s that sound?”

  I laughed in his face, “That’s a bet I’d take, fuck face. Of course, it isn’t really worth it, because if you try anything I’ll rip your balls off and shove them down your throat.”

  He laughed again, “My, my, my… you do see that I now have two guns, hah?”

  I scoffed, “Fine, then decide. I’ll die before I let you touch me… or I’ll kill you first. Even if we both go out, the only way you get me is if I’m a corpse.”

  He sighed, “such spirit… well, don’t’ worry, sweet thing. If I were a rapist… which I’m not… I’ve got other options. There’s Mrs. Franco here. And there’s our other guest as well.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked, feeling butterflies in my belly.

  “The one who’s gonna make me richer than a chocolate eclair,” Shade said with a grin. “Cynthia Bartlett, of course. Would you like to see her?”