“Unless Charlotte Sawyer told him.”
“Charlotte is smart. She’ll keep quiet. Obviously Greenslade took a few precautions, though. He used Nolan Briggs’s car—probably hoping that would throw us off the trail if someone did get the license plate.”
He opened the driver’s-side door of the SUV and got behind the wheel.
“I’ve got to go, Walsh. I’m headed for Loring. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
“Wait, any idea where Greenslade might have taken Charlotte?”
Max fired up the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“Someplace where he feels secure,” he said. “A location where he thinks he can control the situation and the environment. He was a sales rep for years. He likes to know the territory.”
“Why would Nolan Briggs help him? Because Greenslade can supply him with an unlimited supply of drugs?”
“I’m sure that’s a factor, but there’s something else at work here,” Max said. “Pretty sure Nolan Briggs is Trey Greenslade’s half brother.”
CHAPTER 64
“This had better work the first time,” Jocelyn said. “We won’t get a second chance.”
“It will work,” Charlotte said.
But she knew that Jocelyn was right. The plan, such as it was, absolutely had to work the first time.
“You know I’ve always admired your optimistic attitude,” Jocelyn said.
“Bullshit. You’ve always considered me naïve.”
They were standing in utter darkness because a short time before, Jocelyn had succeeded in smashing the low-watt bulb in the ceiling light fixture. It hadn’t been a simple task because she had been trying not to make any more noise than necessary in the process. By positioning herself halfway up the wooden stairs she had been able to use the handle of an old mop to shatter the bulb. The faint tinkle of broken glass had evidently been muffled by the heavy plank flooring overhead because their captors had not bothered to check on the situation.
They had taken up positions on either side of the old wooden steps, not daring to move because there was no way to know when the door would open and one of their captors would appear. They had to be in position and ready.
“I’ve never thought of you as naïve,” Jocelyn said. “Just, you know, maybe too inclined to look for the good in other people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I still can’t believe you hired a private investigator.”
“I thought I made it clear. I’m not a client,” Charlotte said. “Max and I are partners in this thing. His client is Louise’s cousin.”
“Still, I can’t believe you got involved with a private investigator,” Jocelyn said.
“It wasn’t like there were a lot of viable options. Your best friend was dead under what both her cousin and I considered mysterious circumstances and the police were not displaying any great interest in the death. And then I find out that you are not in that Caribbean convent learning to think tech-free metaphysical thoughts. What was I supposed to do?”
There was a short silence from the other side of the stairs.
“Louise was a very good friend, but she wasn’t my best friend,” Jocelyn said after a while.
“No?”
“You’re my best friend.”
“That’s very touching, but we both know it isn’t true.”
“What do you mean?” Jocelyn sounded hurt.
“If I was your best friend, you would have told me about the risks you were taking playing Lady Avenger with your pals in Madison Benson’s so-called investment club.”
“I didn’t tell you about the club’s activities because I didn’t want to put you at risk. I was trying to protect you.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t let you off the hook. Best friends don’t keep secrets like that.”
“I can’t believe we’re arguing about the definition of friendship,” Jocelyn said. “Not now, at any rate. In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got a few problems on our hands.”
“Max will sort things out.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in him, don’t you?”
“I trust him, yes,” Charlotte said. “But in addition, he’s very, very good at what he does.”
There was another deep silence from the other side of the stairs.
“Damn. You’re falling in love with him, aren’t you?” Jocelyn asked after a while.
“I think so, yes.”
“You think so?”
“After the fiasco with Brian, I’m trying to be very cautious when it comes to relationships.”
“That’s my little stepsister, all right,” Jocelyn said. “Cautious.”
“We don’t all have your sense of adventure.”
“You can see where a sense of adventure got me. And it’s nice of you not to remind me that I’m the one who kept telling you that Brian Conroy was perfect for you.”
“Yes, it is nice of me not to point that out.”
A sudden flurry of heavy footsteps thudded on the floor overhead.
“Shit, it’s him. Cutler.” Trey’s muffled voice was strained with rage and panic. “How did he find this place?”
“Never mind that. You heard what he said, he’s got the evidence,” Nolan shouted. “He wants to see the women before he’ll make the trade. Get ’em. Bring ’em up here. Show him they’re both alive.”
“You get them,” Trey ordered. “I might get a shot at Cutler. Go on, hurry, you stupid junkie.”
Once again footsteps pounded on the floorboards overhead. A few seconds later the lock on the door at the top of the stairs rattled and clanged and the door slammed open. Nolan stopped short when he realized he was gazing down into an unlit basement.
He groped for the light switch and flipped it several times in a frenzied manner.
“They fucked with the light,” he shouted over his shoulder.
“It probably burned out,” Trey said. “Use the flashlight.”
Charlotte stood very still in the dense darkness under the stairs. She sensed Jocelyn doing the same thing. Each gripped an end of the length of fishing line they had found in the tackle box. The line stretched across a stair tread halfway down the steps.
A couple of beats later the brilliant beam of a flashlight speared the darkness.
“I can’t see ’em,” Nolan shouted, clearly starting to panic.
“Pruett, Sawyer, get up here,” Trey yelled. “Do it now. Cutler’s here to make the trade. You only get one chance. Move.”
Charlotte had to remind herself to breathe. Fear and adrenaline surged through her. She knew that Jocelyn was equally wired.
Neither of them moved in response to Trey’s orders.
“They’re gone,” Nolan said, voice shaking. “Somehow they got out.”
“There is no way out of that basement except the stairs,” Trey said. “They’re down there. Go get one of them.”
“I don’t see Jocelyn or Charlotte,” Max called from somewhere outside. “If either one of them is dead, the deal’s off.”
“No,” Trey roared. “They’re both here. Both alive. I’ll show you.”
Charlotte heard him cross the room to the top of the stairs.
“Get out of my way,” he snarled to Nolan.
There was some scrambling overhead as Nolan obeyed. And then Trey was coming down the stairs, flashlight in hand. The beam of light arced back and forth across the basement, but it could not reach the darkness under the stairs.
The fishing line was all but invisible in the shadows. Certainly Trey never saw it.
Charlotte tightened her grip on the fishing line. On the opposite side of the staircase, Jocelyn did the same. They had torn off strips of their shirts and wrapped them around their hands to protect them from the bite of the line.
She felt the sharp tug when t
he toe of Trey’s shoe caught on the fishing line. She heard a harsh gasp and a choked shout of raw panic. For a dizzying instant, she thought she was the one uttering the horrified cry.
But it was Trey whose scream ripped through the deep well of night in the basement. The flashlight flew from his hand, the beam spiraling wildly. Charlotte heard the gun clatter on the floor.
Trey tumbled down the steps, flailing wildly in a frantic effort to catch his balance. He landed on the concrete floor with a jarring thud, a sound that Charlotte knew she would hear in her nightmares for years to come.
Shivering, she unwound the fishing line from her hand.
Jocelyn rushed to the flashlight, grabbed it and swung it in wide, sweeping arcs. Charlotte realized she was searching for the gun that Trey had dropped. The beam of the light passed over Trey, who lay very still. There was a dark pool forming under his head.
“Trey?” Nolan looked down from the top of the stairs. “What the fuck?”
Jocelyn switched off the flashlight.
Nolan freaked. He fired wildly into the basement.
“Stay back,” he shouted. “Don’t move. I’ll shoot anyone who tries to come up the stairs.”
He retreated and slammed the door shut. Charlotte heard his running footsteps overhead.
Jocelyn switched on the flashlight. “He’s going out the back door. Probably hoping to escape through the woods.”
“Charlotte.” Max’s shout was somewhere between a desperate prayer and a command.
“Down here,” she called, raising her voice to be heard through the closed door. “The basement. We’re okay.”
Jocelyn finally pinned the gun in the beam of the flashlight.
“There it is,” she said.
She scooped up the weapon.
Charlotte heard muffled shouts. There were more thudding footsteps. The door at the top of the stairs slammed open. Max stood there, a gun in his hand.
“Charlotte,” he said again.
“I’m here,” she said. “So is Jocelyn. We’re both all right. But I think Trey Greenslade is dead.”
She ran up the stairs and straight into Max’s arms.
“Charlotte,” he said.
He spoke her name in a raw, grinding voice that was infused with some fierce emotion. He sounded like a man who had just had a narrow escape from hell. He wrapped her close and tight against him.
“I knew you’d find us,” she said into his chest.
“I’m glad one of us was sure of that. For God’s sake, woman, don’t ever scare me like that again. I don’t think my heart could take it.”
Anson approached, a gun held alongside his leg. He looked every inch a lawman.
“You ladies okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “Yes, we are.”
She was vaguely aware of other voices and people moving around inside the cabin. Someone was giving orders. She recognized Detective Walsh’s voice. He sounded buzzed on adrenaline.
“Get the damned aid car here,” he said to someone.
She heard Nolan Briggs whining earnestly in the background, explaining to an officer that he had been one of Greenslade’s hostages.
Incensed, Charlotte gave Walsh a fierce look. “Don’t believe a word that bastard says. He was working with Greenslade all along.”
“Yeah, we figured that out,” Max said.
He eased her out of the way so that Walsh and a uniformed officer could descend the basement steps.
Charlotte looked down and saw that Jocelyn was still standing over Trey Greenslade. Her hand was clenched around the grip of the gun.
Walsh went down the steps and gently took the gun from her.
“You’re Jocelyn Pruett?” he asked.
“Yes.” Jocelyn did not move. “Is he dead? I really hope he’s dead.”
The officer crouched beside Trey and checked for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” Walsh said.
“Too bad,” Jocelyn said.
She started to cry.
Charlotte freed herself from Max’s grasp and went down the steps. She took Jocelyn’s hand.
“It’s all right, Jocelyn,” she said. “Come with me. Let the police do their job.”
“We got him,” Jocelyn said. “Didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” Charlotte said. “It’s over. Finally.”
She tightened her grip on Jocelyn’s hand and drew her up out of the basement into the daylight.
CHAPTER 65
They bought four coffees and four hamburgers with fries at the drive-through window of a fast-food restaurant near the campus. They needed the basic food groups, Max thought—caffeine, carbs and protein. They had to fortify themselves before they gave their statements to Detective Walsh.
He drove to the nearest city park. It was late afternoon and too chilly to use one of the picnic tables, so they settled for eating the meal in the car. Charlotte was in the passenger seat. Jocelyn and Anson were in the backseat. Max was behind the wheel.
“Let me guess,” Charlotte said. “We’re here to get our stories straight before we give our statements to the police, right?”
Max had been about to take a bite of his hamburger. He paused to look at her, everything inside him tightening at the realization that he had almost lost her. For a second or two he could not speak, let alone eat.
Then she smiled at him and he was able to breathe again.
“You don’t have to make it sound like we’re a bunch of coconspirators,” he said.
“Why not?” Jocelyn said. “That’s pretty much what we are.”
“Yeah, that does describe our situation,” Anson agreed.
“Yes, I know,” Max said. “But when Charlotte says stuff like that, somehow it sounds so much worse than it actually is.”
“That’s Charlotte,” Jocelyn said. “Why do you think I never told her about the investment club?”
Charlotte turned in her seat. “If you had, I would have advised you not to get involved with people like Madison Benson and her little band of online vigilantes.”
“Okay, I think that’s enough squabbling, ladies,” Max said. “We don’t have a lot of time. Just so you know, the number one rule in situations like this is—”
“There are rules about giving statements?” Charlotte asked, frowning.
“The rule,” he repeated patiently, “is that you don’t lie but you don’t volunteer any more information than absolutely necessary. Right, Anson?”
“Right,” Anson said around a mouthful of hamburger.
“Good rule,” Jocelyn said. She eyed Max. “How did you figure out that Trey Greenslade was holding us at the old hunting cabin?”
“Greenslade had a pattern,” Max said. “He was into planning and he was obsessed with having a thorough knowledge of his territory. Also, he needed to feel that he was in control. In the course of researching him I’d checked his tax records. He inherited some property in the town of Loring and he has an apartment in Seattle. But of all the places he controlled, his father’s old hunting cabin in the mountains seemed like the only one that could be used to hold a couple of captives. No nosy neighbors to ask questions.”
Charlotte nodded and munched a French fry. “You’re good. Really, really good.”
“Yep,” Anson said. “He is good.”
Max looked at Jocelyn. “Do you know what happened to the contents of that old evidence box?”
“No,” Jocelyn said. “And I don’t know why Louise made that trip here to Loring the day she died, if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”
“Trey Greenslade must have had some reason to think that she got the evidence box in the course of that trip,” Charlotte said. “He killed her hours later that same day.”
“But she died of a drug overdose,” Anson pointed out. “How did he
get close enough to her to drug her?”
“Probably the same way he got close enough to me to drug me,” Jocelyn said. “He used Madison Benson.”
“Who helped him because she saw a golden opportunity to increase her share of the profits from the Keyworth deal,” Max said. “Maybe she had even higher aspirations. Maybe she thought she could somehow get a slice of Loring-Greenslade.”
“Why did Greenslade cut her out of the herd?” Anson asked.
“Once he discovered that I was closing in on him, he realized he had a problem,” Jocelyn said. “At that point he couldn’t know how much the other members of the investment club knew about my investigation. He realized that Madison Benson was the one in charge of the club, so he went after her first.”
“Probably recognized another sociopath,” Charlotte said. “Takes one to know one.”
“Exactly,” Max said. “Figured he could do business with her.”
“He seduced her,” Jocelyn said. “But knowing Madison, she probably thought she was in control.”
Anson shook his head. “Two sick sociopaths, each trying to manipulate the other.”
“Getting back to the contents of the evidence box,” Jocelyn said, “Trey Greenslade thinks that Briggs scammed him. He thinks Briggs sold the evidence to Louise and then tried to sell the empty box to him.”
“If that’s true—and there is some logic to it,” Max said, “we have to figure out where Louise hid the contents of the box.”
“Here’s what’s bothering me,” Jocelyn said. “If Briggs did decide to sell the box, why did he call Louise? I’m the one who would have paid whatever he asked for that damn box.”
Charlotte looked at her. “Maybe he couldn’t get hold of you because you were out of town and off the grid.”
“Oh, shit,” Jocelyn said. She looked stricken. “You’re right. If he called my office, Louise would have taken the call. She would have recognized the Briggs name. She would have understood that if he was desperate to get in touch with me, it was about something very important—something related to the past.”
“She must have told him that she knew about your past,” Charlotte said. “When he told her what he had to sell, she agreed to the deal. She took ten grand out of her own bank account and went to Loring to collect the box.”
When All the Girls Have Gone Page 28
