Touch & Go

by Lisa Gardner

  She found herself saying: “You haven’t asked me about my husband.”

  “Your business, not mine.”

  “Two years ago,” she heard herself continue, “Brian was shot dead, and my daughter went missing. I confessed to shooting him, but was also charged with killing my own kid.”

  “Your daughter’s alive. You said so.”

  “I found her. Some of my methods didn’t necessarily…color inside the legal lines. I won’t ever be welcomed in law enforcement again. But I have my daughter back and that’s what matters most.”

  “You know,” he drawled slowly, “now that you mention it, that case rings a bell.”

  She stiffened, steeling herself for the inevitable comments on her shooting skills, or even a crack on how her husband must’ve deserved it.

  Instead, he asked: “How’s your daughter holding up?”

  “She told me to look for the Denbe family in cold, dark places. Also, to bring cookies and carry my gun.”

  “Smart kid.”

  She found herself nodding. And thinking that she liked Wyatt Foster. Liked him a lot.

  “You ever been married?” she asked.

  “Yep. Total train wreck. But I’ve got nothing against domestic life. And between you, me and the lamppost, I like kids. It’s one of those things guys can’t really say, though. Comes out sounding creepy. Which, given how much I respect your skills, is not the impression I’m trying to make.”

  “I don’t date much.” This must be what happened when you went too long without adult company, she decided. First attentive listener and it was like she had diarrhea of the mouth. She continued: “My focus is my daughter, creating a safe, stable home environment for her. She deserves that much.”

  “Ah, hence the scraped-back hair—”

  “That’s the second comment I’ve received in two days! What is it about my hair?”

  “You’re too young to look that old,” Wyatt said matter-of-factly. “Besides, it doesn’t work for me. I see something pulled back that tight, mostly, I get curious how it might look down. You know, preferably after a nice dinner, followed by a couple glasses of wine, that sort of thing.”

  Tessa was no longer watching the road. She was staring at the man sitting in her passenger’s seat, and she was pretty sure she was blushing. Blushing, for heaven’s sake.

  “But I imagine you don’t date on the job,” he continued now, voice still perfectly even.

  “Exactly,” she managed, and returned her eyes to the road.

  They fell back into silence.

  “So,” she drawled after another few minutes. “You’re disgruntled.”

  “Yes. The kidnappers are exposing themselves. They’re making phone calls, buying local newspapers and most likely getting supplies to treat a woman in the midst of pretty serious withdrawal. And yet, we still can’t get a bead on them. It’s pissing me off.”

  “We don’t have a description,” Tessa pointed out. “It’s hard to make headway without a tangible description of the suspects to circulate. I mean, what can local law enforcement do right now? Ask local gas stations if any strangers bought a newspaper today? At this rate, we should feel disgruntled. We’re still skirting the perimeters of the crime. We haven’t reached the heart of the matter.”

  “I called my office,” Wyatt said. “Got them working with the local wireless providers to identify chunks of real estate that don’t receive adequate cell coverage. Sounds like that will eliminate a great deal of the White Mountain National Forest. ’Course, most of the real estate in question is high altitude or deep country…not exactly accessible for hiding hostages anyway.”

  “Process of elimination is still something; a no that helps lead to yes.”

  “Forest rangers have been making progress, too, visiting campgrounds and trailheads. At this rate, we may work ourselves down to a mere fifth of the state left to search by tomorrow.”

  “See, smaller haystack. Well done.”

  Wyatt stopped scowling, grinned instead. “I like you,” he said. “Hairdo aside, I’m going to ask you out one day. But not today. Today, we’re going to focus on the Denbe family.”

  “Not much time left,” she murmured, taking the exit for Lexington as she followed her GPS’s directions for Anita Bennett’s house.

  “Exactly,” he agreed, fingers drumming against the middle console. “Exactly.”

  ANITA BENNETT OPENED HER FRONT DOOR after the first ring. She took in Tessa, wearing black Ann Taylor slacks topped with a fitted white shirt, and frowned slightly. Then she spotted Wyatt, standing in full view of her neighbors in his brown sheriff’s uniform, and positively scowled.

  “Come in!” she said, less of an invitation, more of a demand. They did.

  Anita wore a long dark skirt with slim black boots, topped with a heather-colored cable-knit sweater. She matched the white-painted, black-shuttered house, Tessa thought, a perfect advertisement for refined New England living. Currently, the woman was fidgeting with her long string of pearls, and looking at Tessa and Wyatt as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

  “We have some more questions,” Tessa said by way of explanation.

  “I would’ve met you at the office. As it is, we’ve just returned from church.”

  “It will only take a minute.”

  A last scowl, then Anita seemed to give up. Her shoulders came down slightly; she gestured for them to follow her.

  “Honey, who’s here?” A man’s voice from the end of the hallway.

  Anita didn’t immediately answer, but kept walking, leading them past a massive kitchen with black granite countertops and cherrywood cabinets, then the formal dining room, until they finally arrived in a smaller sitting room, boasting a fireplace, a pair of silk-covered wingback chairs and a vintage 1920s love seat.

  Tessa found this interesting. She would’ve described the COO’s office as modern, while her home was clearly New England traditional. She wondered what other differences distinguished work Anita from home Anita.

  An older man in black slacks and a cranberry-colored sweater had been sitting in front of the lit fire. Now he rose, moving gingerly, and offered a hand. He had a full head of striking gray hair, topping a broad, friendly face with wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Daniel Coakley,” he said, by way of introduction. “Anita’s husband. And you are?”

  “These are two of the investigators looking for Justin and his family,” Anita said crisply. But Tessa noticed the woman’s gaze softened when she looked at her husband. She moved closer, placing a hand on his arm in an almost protective gesture. “It’s okay, Dan. They just need to ask me a few more questions. Do you mind?”

  Dan seemed to take that as his cue to depart. He nodded at both of them, then worked his way slowly down the hallway in the direction they had come.

  “Heart attack,” Anita said, in answer to their unspoken question. “Last year. He died twice on the way to the ER. You have no idea how much that puts your life in perspective.”

  She gestured to the forest-green wingback chairs. Tessa took one, Wyatt the other. Anita perched on the edge of the gold-and-green-covered sofa. Putting plenty of distance between her and the investigators, Tessa noticed, while sitting ramrod straight, hands clasped on her knees, body language radiating wariness.

  Given the woman’s discomfort, Tessa took her time, letting the silence drag out while she took inventory of the room, seeking out family photos. She spotted two larger framed prints. One close-up shot of three school-age boys, piled up on a hillside, bright faces beaming. Then, the classic family shot, a younger Anita seated in one of the wingback chairs, three now teenage boys kneeling around her while a noticeably larger, healthier Daniel Coakley stood behind them all, hand on her shoulder.

  In this photo, Tessa could see that Anita’s husband had had blond hair, which complemented his fair complexion. Before going silver gray, Anita appeared to have been a strawberry blonde with equally pale skin. Which left their youngest son with notice
ably darker features than the rest of the family.

  She and Wyatt exchanged a look. He was seated comfortably in the other wingback chair, one leg crossed casually on the other, elbows resting at his side. He was going with his quietly accessible demeanor. Not pressuring their interview subject, but letting her come to him.

  Effective approach given how much Tessa herself had volunteered in just one car ride.

  “We have received a ransom demand,” Tessa said.

  Clearly, this was not what Anita had been expecting. Immediately, the COO was on her feet, fingers once again working her pearls. “How, when? What do they want? Are Justin and his family okay?”

  “Demand is nine million dollars. Justin evoked some special clause that allows an additional life insurance payment in situations of extreme danger.”

  “Oh my God.” Anita’s hand, covering her mouth. “Is he…all right? Ashlyn? Libby?”

  “Justin states they are currently safe, but we haven’t received visual confirmation yet.”

  “Will the insurance company pay?”

  “Being worked out as we speak.”

  “Of course they’ll pay,” Anita said, no longer looking at them, but seeming to speak to herself. “That’s why one carries such policies. So that when the worst happens, the company will pay, and Justin and his family will be returned safe. When?”

  “Soon. We hope.”

  Anita sat back down. Her earlier wariness was gone. She appeared intent now. “So what do you need from me? How can I help?”

  Tessa and Wyatt exchanged another glance. If Anita had a vested interest in the Denbe family’s disappearance, she was doing a good job of hiding it. Or maybe, none of this was news to her. The ransom had been part of the plan, and all was proceeding on schedule.

  Tessa decided to cut to the chase. “Tell us about your youngest son.”

  The COO froze. For one moment, Tessa thought the older woman might fight it, but then she conceded their point with a single, stiff nod. “I see the rumor mill’s been busy as usual.”

  Tessa and Wyatt just waited.

  “You want to know why I didn’t just tell you everything yesterday,” Anita continued unprompted. “First second you arrived in my office, I should’ve aired my dirty laundry, dragged all the skeletons out of the closet. Because of course, Justin’s disappearance must have something to do with my son. Families are like that.”

  Again, Tessa and Wyatt said nothing.

  “He doesn’t even know,” Anita said abruptly. “Timothy, I mean. Daniel does. And, yes, it was a very difficult time in our marriage. But we survived it. And Daniel loves Timmy. Views him as just as much his son as our other two children. In the end, we decided to let it be. Daniel is happy, Timmy is happy, why rip apart our family for no good reason?”

  “Does Justin know?” Wyatt spoke up.

  Anita shrugged. “People in the company have whispered about it for years, of course. But I’ve never directly stated that Timmy is Dale Denbe’s son. Frankly, the first ten years I wasn’t even sure myself. Of course, as Timmy’s grown up, the family resemblance…”

  “Does Justin know?” Wyatt pressed again.

  Anita seemed to be struggling. “I’m sure he must suspect it,” she finally allowed. “But again, for Timmy’s sake as much as anyone’s, I’ve never gone there, and I never will.”

  “For Timmy’s sake?” Tessa repeated, allowing disbelief to color her voice. “Because being in line for a hundred-million-dollar family business can’t possibly be in his best interest?”

  Anita smiled faintly. “Do you know what Tim is studying at college?”

  They shook their heads.

  “Animal husbandry. He wants to move to Vermont and start his own free-range all-organic all–environmentally correct dairy farm. Timmy isn’t interested in building two-hundred-million-dollar prisons or hospitals or colleges. He wants to be one with the earth.”

  “So he sells his share of the business and uses it to start his farm.”

  “What share?” Anita said calmly. “Dale didn’t leave the firm to his surviving heirs. He left it to Justin, specifically, by name. Even if I wanted to subject my family to the strain of declaring Timmy’s parentage, it wouldn’t change anything. Besides, given the shape the firm’s in, I’m not sure it could survive the drama. And again, for what? Justin is the right member of the Denbe family to be heading the company. He loves it. My son has his own dreams. Nothing is broken. Nothing needs to be fixed.”

  Tessa wasn’t buying it. “You’re denying your son part of his family, let alone the choice of getting involved with the business—”

  “Excuse me. I am the business and Timmy’s spent as much of his childhood at the Denbe Construction offices as my two other boys. At any point, if he was interested in construction, I could’ve gotten him involved with the firm given my own position, let alone his possible gene pool. He’s never been interested.”

  “And Justin’s really okay with this?” Wyatt again, sounding just as skeptical as Tessa.

  “We’ve never spoken of it. Ever. Timmy was just a baby when Dale died. Then, by the time he hit ten, and started looking more and more like Justin, and less and less like Daniel, what was the point? People suspected. Rumors swirled. But Justin has never asked me and I’ve never volunteered.”

  “But Timothy got a college scholarship. First one Denbe ever paid.”

  Anita hesitated. Her gaze slid away. “Justin offered,” she murmured. “Company had had a good year. Who was I to argue?”

  “So he knows,” Wyatt pressed.

  “We’ve never spoken of it,” Anita repeated stubbornly. Apparently, in her world, denial made it so.

  Daniel was back, standing in the doorway.

  “Justin knows,” he said. The words came out hoarsely. The man cleared his throat, as if to speak again, but Anita was already moving to his side.

  “Honey, it’s okay, they’re just leaving.”

  Daniel stood his ground. “Justin knows,” he said again, the words firmer this time. “Those bonuses he gives to you. They’re profit sharing, for Timmy, too. Like the checks he sends to his mother.”

  Anita flushed, didn’t say anything

  Tessa and Wyatt regarded Daniel with fresh interest.

  “Why do you say that?” Tessa asked.

  “Dale, whatever else you wanted to say about him, always met his obligations. Justin’s like that, too. Takes care of his mother, given her a share of the proceeds of the company, even though she hasn’t spoken to him in years. He takes care of his half brother likewise, even if Timothy has never been acknowledged.”

  “You don’t know—” Anita started.

  “You set the money aside,” Dan interjected loudly. “You dole out part of your year-end bonus to Timmy, but not to Jimmy and Richard. You think I don’t know why? You think some year Tim won’t ask?”

  Anita flushed, didn’t say anything.

  “Justin knows,” Daniel repeated. “But he doesn’t pry. After all these years, it’s just one of those things. The arrangement works, as long as no one questions it.”

  “And Tim has never questioned it?” Tessa asked.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “And Justin’s never questioned it?” Wyatt pressed.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “We’re going to pull your financials,” Tessa warned, glaring hard at Anita. “Anything else you’d like to tell us now, before we read about it later?”

  Anita flushed again. “I have nothing to hide. Whatever happened to Justin…whoever is holding him for ransom, it has nothing to do with me or my family.”

  “Any fresh ideas who might be behind it?” Wyatt again.

  Anita regarded him curiously. “It doesn’t have to be any of us, does it? I mean, if it’s a ransom case, and he’s been taken by professionals… Well, I mean, anyone can tell Justin is a wealthy man. His homes, his cars, the company. Maybe he was targeted because of who he is, not who he works with.”

  �
�They knew the security code to his town house,” Tessa rattled off. “They knew the family’s schedule, the home’s layout and exactly when and where to strike. This was an inside job, and you’d better believe Justin is as aware of that as we are. Meaning the second he and his family are safe at home… You really think Justin’s going to just let this whole incident slide?”

  Anita had paled. She shook her head.

  “It’s going to be warfare,” Tessa continued. “Justin himself is going to go after each and every one of you, even if it means dismantling his own company brick by brick. The more you know him, the bigger your exposure is going to be. So speak now, Anita. We’re willing to listen. Justin, on the other hand, after having watched his wife and daughter suffer…”

  “I don’t know anything,” Anita insisted. “I wouldn’t harm Justin, let alone his family. And I can’t think of anyone else in the firm that might.”

  “Not even someone who was unhappy with the direction things were moving?” Wyatt pressed. “Might think he or she could do better, if they were in charge?”

  A slight hesitation. “You should talk to Ruth Chan.”

  “The CFO?” Tessa asked. “The one on vacation?”

  “We finally spoke this morning. She was going to head straight for the airport, try to get on the first available flight out. But in the beginning, when I told her what had happened to Justin… She got real quiet. It’s not that she said anything, or confessed anything. Just…”

  Tessa and Wyatt waited.

  Anita finally looked up. “She didn’t seem shocked. I told her Justin and his family had gone missing, and it didn’t seem to surprise her at all.”

  Chapter 30

  ZLED ASHLYN AND ME through a maze of broad corridors. At first I thought we must be heading to the kitchen for lunch duty, but after we bypassed those doors, I gave up guessing our destination and simply followed in his wake.

  He hadn’t bothered to shackle our wrists. Nor did he walk between us. Instead, he strode forward several paces, shoulders loose, body language relaxed, a man who might as well be on a Sunday stroll.

  Now that the ransom wheels were set in motion, did he figure he had little to fear regarding an attempted escape? Or, when it came to him versus us, did he just figure he had little to fear?