After dumping him in the living room, Fleming had returned to the SUV to collect a bulging duffel bag. He had rigged up some kind of explosive devices at various points on the ground floor and then hauled the bag upstairs. Xavier could hear him moving around on the floor above the living room.
Xavier struggled to a sitting position and propped himself up against the stone hearth. He tried to imagine what Cabot would do in such a situation. Probably pull a knife out of a hidden sheath strapped to his ankle.
Cabot would use the knife to slice through the duct tape, and then he would wait for Fleming to return to the ground floor. True, Fleming had a gun, but Cabot had one, too. Fleming wouldn’t stand a chance.
The floorboards overhead creaked. Fleming was on the move again. Xavier twisted around to survey his surroundings. The only thing he saw that looked remotely like a weapon was an empty camping lantern. It was sitting on the end table at the side of the sagging couch.
CHAPTER 55
The old house was locked in the deep shadows of the surrounding woods.
Cabot stood in the shelter of the trees and contemplated his strategy. The wind was picking up. He remembered how the old structure had wailed and moaned whenever a storm had struck. He and the other kids had huddled under the covers and imagined ghosts howling in the basement.
The noise of the gusting wind would be useful, he thought. He and the others had been frightened by the storms of their childhood, but now the wind was his ally. With luck it would partially mask any sounds he made when he gained access to the house.
He had left his car on an unpaved side road and made his way through the heavily forested area behind the big house. The sight of the vehicle parked in the front drive had been somewhat reassuring. It was a good indication that he had come to the right place. Now he could only hope that Fleming had not yet murdered Xavier.
The problem with dead bodies was the issue of disposal. Fleming might be in a panic, but surely he was thinking clearly enough to realize that it would be risky to kill his victim inside the house. There would be a lot of evidence left behind.
But Fleming had to be seriously wired, running flat out on adrenaline and desperation. Xavier was a huge problem for him. He would act quickly.
Cabot knew he could not wait any longer. He had to make his move. The one advantage he had was that he knew his way around the old house.
He took his gun out of the holster, slipped out of the woods and went swiftly toward the long rear porch. For a few tense seconds he was in the open. If Fleming happened to glance through one of the few windows that were not boarded up on that side of the house, he would have a clear shot.
Judging by the results of the first shootout at the old mansion, Fleming was a lousy shot unless he was very close to his target. But even if he missed, Cabot knew the element of surprise would be lost. Fleming would have time to grab Xavier and use him as a human shield.
There were no shots.
He made it up onto the porch and flattened himself against the side of the large wood-storage shed. The outer door sagged on its hinges. He opened it wider, exerting great care, and let himself into the shadowed space. He could make out a jumble of old, rotted logs and kindling. No one had built a fire in the house in a very long time.
He moved toward the inner door in the shed, the one that had been installed to allow firewood to be brought into the house without the necessity of going outside into the teeth of a winter storm.
It opened onto a room that had been used to store muddy boots, wet rain gear and assorted household cleaning supplies. He hoped the door would be unlocked. If it wasn’t, he would have to take the risk of forcing it.
Very little light seeped into the shed via the sagging outside door, but his memory of the layout proved accurate. He crossed the space and put out a hand to feel for the knob on the inner door.
He found it almost immediately. He tested it gently. It turned easily in his hand. He forced himself to wait until another gust rattled the remaining windows and whistled through cracks in the wooden walls. When he got his cue—a wailing wind accompanied by the first blast of rain—he raised the gun, crouched, opened the door and went into the old mudroom.
He winced when he heard the squeak of rusty hinges, but there were no running footsteps, no shots.
Now that he was inside he could hear another sound—footsteps on the floor above. Fleming was upstairs. It seemed logical that he would have left his captive downstairs.
Cabot pulled up memories of the layout of the big house. There were a lot of rooms upstairs but not many on the ground floor. Most of the space was taken up by a large kitchen and pantry, a sizable dining area and a vast living room.
He moved quickly but methodically from one room to the next.
Xavier was half propped up against the stone hearth of the big fireplace. There was a storm lantern on the floor beside him. He stared at Cabot, first in shock and then in overwhelming relief. Then he jerked his head upward and mouthed the words, “He’s up there.”
Cabot nodded once, reached down and took the knife out of his ankle sheath. Fleming either had no experience with taking people captive or he had been in too much of a rush to think about technique. Regardless of the reason, he had bound Xavier’s wrists in front, not in back. That meant that the kid had not lost feeling in his hands and arms. He would be able to move quickly once he was free.
Cabot crossed the room and used the blade to slice through the duct tape that bound Xavier’s hands and feet.
He hauled Xavier upright and put his mouth to Xavier’s ear.
“We’re going out through the kitchen. Anything happens to me, you keep going, understand? I tell you to run, you run. Get out of the house and don’t stop.”
Xavier swallowed hard and nodded in a jerky manner. He was clearly scared and disoriented, but he was trying to focus on the orders.
Cabot started to give him a push toward the kitchen, but at that moment he heard the purposeful footsteps at the top of the stairs. Time had run out. In the next second or two Fleming would appear on the staircase. When he did, he would have a clear view of what was going down in the living room.
There was no point trying to keep silent now. Cabot yanked Xavier back and shoved him up against one side of the massive stone fireplace.
Fleming froze at the top of the staircase, gun in hand. He was clearly trying to make sense out of the fact that his captive was no longer lying on the floor in front of the hearth.
Then he saw Cabot.
“What the fuck?” he said.
“Drop the gun,” Cabot ordered. “Now.”
But Fleming scrambled backward, firing wildly to cover his retreat.
The shots were all over the place, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. Cabot moved next to Xavier and flattened his back against the side of the fireplace.
He squeezed off a couple of shots but Fleming was already disappearing into the hallway at the top of the staircase.
“That money is mine, Sutter,” he screamed. “Do you hear me? That money is my inheritance. I’m Quinton Zane’s son.”
Cabot kept his attention on the staircase. He heard pounding footsteps overhead. It sounded like Fleming was fleeing along the upstairs hall. He was intent on escape. He would go down the back stairs and most likely make a run for his vehicle, which was parked at the front of the house.
“Change of plans,” Cabot said to Xavier. “We wait until he’s gone. Then we leave.”
“Okay, but I think there may be a problem.”
“What?”
“The guy is full-on crazy,” Xavier gasped. “I think he was wiring this place to explode. He said something about a blast from the past.”
“We need to leave. Now.”
The muffled whoosh of the explosion rumbled through the house. The fire exploded around them.
“How far did he get setting the explosive devices?” Cabot asked.
“He did the downstairs first. Then he went upstairs.”
Cabot thought about the woodshed.
“It’s a big house,” he said. “And he was in a hurry. He didn’t have time to cover every exit point. Let’s go.”
He ran for the mudroom, Xavier hard on his heels.
CHAPTER 56
“I knew you’d have a knife,” Xavier said.
Cabot glanced at him. “You did?”
He and Xavier were in the front seats of his SUV, watching the fire crew deal with the remnants of the blaze that had destroyed the big house. The rain was falling steadily now, soaking the surrounding area and ensuring that the fire would not spread.
He had called Anson immediately after he contacted the local authorities. Anson had put Virginia on the phone.
“You’re sure you’re both okay?” she had asked.
“Xavier is a little shaken up, but yes, we’re both all right,” he said.
“You saved his life, Cabot.”
“It’s my fault he got into trouble.”
“No,” she had said.
“Yes,” he said.
He’d ended the call before she could pursue the argument because a detective from the Wallerton Police Department had arrived. Meanwhile the search for Tucker Fleming was under way.
“I kept thinking that if I’d had a knife, I would have been able to cut the duct tape,” Xavier said. “I told myself that you would have had one.”
Cabot did not take his eyes off the smoldering ruins of the first compound.
“Fleming would have found a knife when he wrapped the tape around your ankles.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“The lantern?”
“It was sitting on a table at the end of the couch,” Xavier said. “I rolled across the floor until I could sit up and reach it. Probably wouldn’t have done me any good but I couldn’t see anything else that looked useful.”
“Smart move,” Cabot said.
Xavier gazed morosely through the windshield. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“I should have kept an eye on you.”
“It’s not your fault. Not Mr. Salinas’s fault, either. I fucked up.”
“You found Tucker Fleming. That was good work.”
Xavier brightened a little at that. “I followed his trail. Reversed the app he’d installed on Ms. Troy’s phone.”
“So, there was a tracking app on Virginia’s phone?”
“Oh, yeah. He hid it in a subfolder so she never saw it. By enabling it he opened the door for me to track him.”
“Nice job. But at Cutler, Sutter and Salinas we’re a team. Going off on your own the way you did not only puts you in danger, it puts other people in harm’s way as well. Next time keep your team members informed of your findings at every step.”
“Yeah, sure,” Xavier said. “A team. I get it.” He paused. Cleared his throat. “Next time?”
“Forget I said that. There won’t be a next time because when your mother finds out what happened, she’ll make sure you’re on the next plane back to San Francisco, even if she has to come to Seattle to put you on it.”
Xavier groaned. “We don’t have to tell her.”
“Yes,” Cabot said, “we do have to tell her. And what’s more, we have to do it soon, before the cops get in touch with her. She’s going to be mad as hell at me and she’ll have every right.”
“But it wasn’t your fault Fleming grabbed me.”
Cabot exhaled slowly. “Yes, it was my fault. Forget that part. Let’s get back to the case.”
Xavier frowned in confusion. “The case?”
“We’re working a murder and arson case,” Cabot said. “Remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Xavier perked up again. He went so far as to straighten in his seat. “Right. The case.”
“I heard what you told the detective a while ago. Before this is over he’ll want both of us to go through it again in more detail. But right now I want you to tell me every single thing that happened from the time Fleming opened his door until you saw me arrive.”
“Okay,” Xavier said.
He started to talk.
Cabot listened. From time to time he asked questions but, for the most part, Xavier did a good job of recounting the ordeal. He had a keen eye for detail—much better than the vast majority of witnesses that Cabot had interviewed.
“What was your overall impression of Tucker Fleming?” he asked when Xavier reached the end of his tale.
Xavier thought for a moment. “Like I told the detective, he didn’t talk much, but when he did, he sounded scary-crazy most of the time. I figured he might be on drugs.”
“What, exactly, did Fleming say that made you believe he was on drugs?”
“It was like he heard voices or something.”
“Voices?”
“You know, like those crazy people on the street who talk to themselves.”
Cabot turned to meet Xavier’s eyes. “Fleming talked to someone only he could hear?”
“Not exactly. He said something about getting messages from his dad on his phone. But if we’re right, Fleming’s father is that old cult guy, right?”
“Quinton Zane.”
“Yeah. Him. But you told me that Zane is dead.”
“Welcome to the wonderland of conspiracy theories, kid.”
CHAPTER 57
Jessica was getting ready to close the gallery when Virginia and Cabot walked through the door.
“Welcome, strangers,” Jessica said. “How goes the big case?”
“Things got interesting today,” Virginia said. “You’ll be hearing all about it on the evening news.”
Jessica winced. “Bad?”
“Could have been worse,” Cabot said. “But it wasn’t, so I’m prepared to call it a good day. I’ve got a question for you.”
Jessica tipped her head to one side. “About art or your investigation?”
“It’s about the computer system you use here in the gallery.” Cabot nodded toward the equipment on the front counter. “Had any trouble with it lately?”
“No, it’s been working fine,” Jessica said. “Funny you should ask, though.”
Virginia got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Why?”
“Someone from the customer service department of the company that sold us the software package called the other day with a new update to fix a potential bug. He said they were calling all of their customers to patch the software. It only took a few minutes. You remember we got that great deal when we bought the complete system? Turns out we get great tech support, too.”
Cabot’s jaw tightened. “Did you answer all his questions? Give him the info he needed to log in from a remote location?”
“Sure. He walked me through the whole process. There weren’t any problems. We’re clean.”
Cabot looked at Virginia. “That answers that question.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. “What’s going on here? What are you talking about? Did I do something wrong?”
Cabot turned back to her. “Do me a favor. If you get any more calls from a helpful tech support guy who wants to walk you through another software update, tell him you’re busy and that you’ll call him back when you’re free. Then hang up and call me.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER 58
Virginia poured some whiskey into one glass and some wine into another. She set both glasses on the coffee table and sat down beside Cabot, tucked one leg under her thigh and rested her left arm along the back of the sofa cushions.
“How bad was the conversation with Xavier’s mother?” she asked.
“Bad.” Cabot picked up the whiskey, took a healthy swallow and set the glass d
own. “At first she didn’t believe me. She thought it was some sort of bizarre joke and that Xavier had put me up to it. When she realized I was telling her the truth—that Xavier had gotten tangled up in an ongoing investigation—she was shocked and then furious.”
“Predictable. She’s a mom, after all.”
“Xavier got on the phone. He tried to calm her down but that only made things worse. She got back on the phone with me and made me promise that I would put Xavier on the first available flight tomorrow morning. I explained that the police would want to interview Xavier again. She said she was going to fly to Seattle herself to deal with the cops. I said that was fine by me. Then Xavier’s father, Emerson Kennington, called.”
“Your uncle?”
“Biologically speaking, yes. He yelled at me for a while. Said something about having his lawyer deal with me. I told him his son had helped identify a man wanted on murder charges. That just made him even madder. Then he yelled at Xavier.”
“Is Emerson Kennington getting on the next flight to Seattle to see Xavier and make sure he’s okay?”
“Yep. The happy family will be reunited sometime tomorrow in the offices of Cutler, Sutter and Salinas. Reality TV can’t begin to compete with the Kenningtons when it comes to drama.”
“Well, at least Xavier will realize that his dad does care about him, even if Emerson is divorcing Xavier’s mother.”
Cabot drank some more whiskey and lowered the glass. “It’s the comment about the lawyer that I found interesting.”
“Do you really think that Xavier’s father will try to sue you because Xavier got kidnapped? That seems pretty far-fetched.”
“You know as well as I do that you can sue somebody over anything. That’s not what I found curious.”
Promise Not to Tell Page 24
