The Truant Officer v5

by Derek Ciccone

  So he ignored the television report and returned to his original plan, which was to conduct his own investigation. His first thought was to confront Buckley’s parents. They would likely know if their son showed signs of being infatuated with Lilly. They also might be able to shed some light on where he might have taken her—if Jessi Stafford said they were in Las Vegas, then Darren was convinced that they were anywhere but there—and perhaps Brett had contacted them. Either way, two heads were better than one, and they had the same goal, which was to get Brett and Lilly safely home. The rest could be sorted out later.

  Darren changed out of his uniform, and into a golf shirt and khakis. Lilly had kept a list of addresses and phone numbers of all the students involved in her weekend tutoring sessions. The address took him to an upscale gated community off Queen Creek Road.

  He piggybacked another vehicle through the electronic gates, and quickly found the Buckleys’ impressive home. He parked Lilly’s Jetta on the curb and headed for the front door, noticing a Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway next to a Ford Taurus. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a young girl getting into the Jeep. She had a pretty face, except for the deep teenage scowl on it, and her hair was a rebellious combo of pink and blonde. She wore denim shorts with a pair of tattered flip-flops, and a T-shirt that read What Are You Looking At? The minute their eyes met she made an angry beeline for him.

  “Are you Mrs. McLaughlin’s husband?”

  When he replied that he was, she punched him in the jaw with a surprising right hook. And with their vast height difference, she had to work to do it. It confused him more than it hurt.

  “That’s for your slut wife ruining my life!” she shouted, and then bolted for her Jeep.

  Before Darren could even grasp what just happened, the wheels of the Jeep were laying rubber on the hot asphalt. He didn’t have time to analyze the strange incident—the only thing he could think about right now was Lilly, and getting her back. He marched to the front door with purpose. He was about to ring the bell when he noticed the door was cracked open. He walked in to find a surprise.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Agent LaPoint, who was meandering through the living room. The place looked like the model house for the planned community, and had a coldness to it.

  “You might want to put some ice on your jaw,” LaPoint greeted him.

  Darren felt his throbbing chin and realized she hit him harder than he thought. “Who was that?”

  “That’s Rebecca, Brett Buckley’s girlfriend. She’s a feisty one—doesn’t take rejection well.”

  “Where are Buckley’s parents? I want to speak to them.”

  “On vacation in Hawaii. Second honeymoon or some shit like that.”

  Darren could tell he was full of it—his eyes betrayed him.

  Suddenly it hit Darren like another punch to the jaw. The FBI didn’t believe that Brett Buckley abducted Lilly any more than the local cops did. They viewed Lilly as a predator who ran off with a student, and took him over state lines, which was probably why the FBI was involved in the first place. This was a dirty trick—the FBI was supposed to be the hope he was clinging to.

  “Lilly didn’t do what they say she did on television!”

  “If you let me do my job, we can get your wife back in one piece and then the two of you can talk over whatever issues you have.”

  Darren angered to tears. “I want the truth—was my wife having an affair with that student!?”

  “Go home, Mr. McLaughlin—there’s nothing you can do here.”

  Darren didn’t move.

  LaPoint took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I’m sorry, Mr. McLaughlin. I really am.”

  Chapter 21

  Lilly led Nick by the hand out of the casino and into the lobby, where a twenty-thousand-gallon saltwater-aquarium was built into the wall behind the front desk. Lilly noticed that it contained sharks, but at the moment she was more worried about the sharks on dry ground.

  They exited into the fresh air and speed-walked down a path that was lined with lush vegetation and exotic sculptures, arriving at the Bare Pool Lounge. It was aptly named, as it was a place known for its topless sunbathing. Even in the morning, a party was in full swing by the pool, DJ included.

  Lilly never drank alcohol or took drugs, but she was still completely intoxicated. She stripped off her dress, casually tossed her heels onto a chaise lounge, and dove into the pool. Nick showed no fear, following her in au naturel.

  They resurfaced in each other’s arms and kissed passionately. Nick pried his lips away and announced to the party, “We’re getting married!”

  The drunken crowd cheered them wildly as they kissed some more. The crowd had no idea they were cheering a couple of fugitives.

  The Mirage didn’t have an in-house wedding chapel, but offered a tram to Treasure Island, located at their sister hotel, the MGM Grand. The clerk warned them of a long waiting list, so they decided to hoof it down Las Vegas Boulevard, better known as the Strip.

  They were doing everything fugitives shouldn’t do, with maybe the lone exception of painting a target on their backs. They stopped at the Little Church of the West at the south end of the Strip. The Little Church was a diminutive wooden chapel that was considered an antique by Vegas standards. It promoted its many celebrity weddings, including Britney Spears’ infamous drunken weekend that ended in an annulment.

  Before entering, Lilly turned to Nick and said, “Any last secrets you want to let me in on before we become man and wife?”

  He deflected, “You first—beauty before age.”

  “I thought it was age before beauty?”

  “You win on both counts.”

  That scored him a couple of points. Lilly intended this exercise to be playful, but when she started to answer, things turned serious. “My secret is that even though I denied it to myself, the minute you walked into my classroom I knew our destiny was to be together.” Her face sunk. “But I also knew people would get hurt, and I did it anyway.”

  Nick showed little emotion. He was still hurting too much from his own losses to worry about others. “That’s a little heavy. I thought you were going to tell me you listen to Neil Diamond or you fart in bed.”

  She hit him playfully on the arm. “Stop stalling—your turn.”

  His face turned solemn. “You know how I told you my parents were mega rich and all that?”

  “They’re not?”

  “Well, they were. The feds froze my father’s assets and took control of his bank accounts. Sasha and I will probably never see it again and will be lucky to pay off all the lawyer fees.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “C’mon, Lilly, I’m not one of those stupid kids from your class. I know a sophisticated woman like you is looking for a successful man. Not some law school dropout who lives in a one room apartment, struggling to pay the minimum balance on his student loans each month.”

  She tapped him on the head. About a sixty-forty split between playfulness and annoyance. “For someone so smart, you can be pretty stupid sometimes. The only reason I want to marry you is because I’m in love with you.”

  A relieved smile spread across his face, and she kissed him once again.

  With their pre-wedding jitters out of the way, they entered the chapel. Lilly wondered how far she was really going to take this. The foyer was full of tube tops and leather skirts—not exactly the traditional wedding garb that she wore when she and Darren got married. They were met by a woman who actually looked more like Elvis than the many impersonators who were milling around the chapel.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. Lilly was expecting a little more on the friendly side.

  “I think we’re looking to get married,” Nick quipped.

  The woman extended her arm, palm up. “Marriage license?”

  Lilly and Nick exchanged glances. They hadn’t thought that part through. Lilly was sure they weren’t the first to come here unprepared. Britney cam
e to mind.

  The woman read their looks, sighed, and then instructed, “Clark County Municipal Building. It’s on the corner of Third and Clark in downtown Las Vegas. The Strip claims to be in Las Vegas, but this is really the town of Paradise, Nevada. If you’re not from around here, you can purchase a map in the gift shop.”

  They left the chapel unhitched. Lilly struggled to breathe in the dry desert air. She was coming down off her high—all of a sudden danger didn’t seem so much like her friend. The wedding fantasy, despite being an act of insanity, had shielded her from their precarious reality.

  Lilly looked down the Strip, feeling like each neon light was pointing danger in their direction. Whoever named this place Paradise sure didn’t have the Russian mob chasing them.

  Chapter 22

  Lilly knew it was time to get off the ledge. “We can’t get married today, Nick.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “For starters, I’m already married. And besides, the minute we enter that office and apply for our license, the place will be surrounded by the FBI…or worse.”

  Nick looked like he got punched in the face and stormed away from her. “That’s not it and you know it, Lilly!”

  He sat down curbside, seemingly oblivious of the morning traffic that was streaming by. Lilly followed and sat beside him. “What is it Nick—why don’t you think I want to marry you?”

  He stared down at the street like he didn’t even want to look at her. “I tell you I have no money and now you have no interest in marrying me. One minute you’re willing to risk your life to get to the altar, and now you’re preaching patience. Suddenly I’m not such a good trade up.”

  She wanted to slap him, but the caretaker in her took over. “I do want to marry you—I just want to be alive to enjoy the honeymoon,” she said, forcing a smile.

  She nudged closer to him and draped her arm around his broad shoulders.

  “You were right about one thing, Nick. I did risk everything to be with you. My marriage—my career—and perhaps my life. I risked it all to be with you, not to become some rich heiress. But if you don’t trust me, then we might as well go our separate ways.”

  Nick looked like a lost child. “I’m sorry, Lilly. I guess I was just a little jealous.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  “I’m afraid that you’ll eventually find someone more successful than me, and want to be with him.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m the one who should be jealous. I see how all those girls at school look at you.”

  Lilly had never been the jealous type until she met Nick. From that moment on, every look in his direction from a flirty girl at school foreshadowed the day when he would kick her to the curb for a sleeker, younger model. And it drove her especially nuts when he was with his girlfriend Rebecca. That’s what led her to risk everything to crash that prom party.

  But that didn’t even compare to her straightjacket moment the night she caught him embracing a girl in a local park. After Nick physically restrained her from scratching the mystery girl’s eyes out, he explained that it was his sister, Sasha, who had risked a dangerous visit. Lilly still believed that Sasha had been followed that night, which is what put Zubov on his trail—not a leak in the US Attorney’s office like Nick claimed.

  But Lilly was most insecure when it came to his former girlfriend, Audrey, who had been murdered. Lilly saw the look in his eyes when he talked about her. He still loved her. Lilly could never compete with that

  He laid his head next to hers. “You’re the one I want, Lilly. And for the record, I do trust you.”

  “I thought I warned you about that.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Even if I don’t marry you today?”

  “It will just give me something to look forward to.”

  “I was thinking St. Patrick’s Cathedral with the reception at the Waldorf,” she said with a smile. “But now that we’re poor, I guess we’ll have to come back to Vegas so I can win us some more money.”

  They embraced and kissed deeply. When Nick came up for air, a mischievous smile appeared on his face. “I wasn’t talking about the wedding. I meant I was looking forward to the honeymoon.”

  They kissed again, ignoring the noose tightening around them. Lilly eventually pulled Nick to his feet and they walked slowly back to the Mirage, holding hands as they whistled past the graveyard. They entered the lobby, almost expecting an army to be waiting for them—they’d certainly left them enough clues. Lilly just wasn’t sure what uniform they’d be wearing.

  The instant that their feet touched in the lobby, Nick stuck out his arm to hold her back.

  “Oh shit, oh shit,” he rambled.

  “What is it?” Lilly whispered.

  He pointed at a middle-aged man in a tidy gray suit. The man had a short-cropped haircut and a fluffy salt and pepper mustache. He didn’t stand out from the many others who were scurrying through the lobby, except for a tattoo that colored the back of his neck.

  “That’s Zubov,” Nick whispered.

  Lilly felt fear shoot through her, even though the man’s look didn’t match the monster that Nick had described to her.

  “Are you sure?” Lilly replied, feeling her stomach in her mouth.

  “Of course I am,” Nick said with a sharp glare.

  They turned and began jogging away, not even risking a backward glance. Their wedding day was officially ruined. When they got outside, they desperately hailed a cab.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  Lilly knew they were no longer safe here. “To the airport,” she said urgently.

  “No,” Nick said. “There’s some place I need to go before we leave.”

  Chapter 23

  Viktor Sarvydas’ ponytail bounced behind him as he ushered his guest down the long corridor that led to the lavish dining room in his Netanya mansion. Although, ‘mansion’ might not be doing the place justice.

  The decor of the hallway was similar to that in the Manhattan headquarters of Sarvy Music. It was lined with the trophies of his music career—gold records, mounted Grammy awards, and framed magazine covers that featured the many artists he had brought to life over the years. The latest was Natalie Gold, posing provocatively on this month’s edition of Rolling Stone.

  Viktor loved giving tours of his estate. And the grander the guest, the more he took pride in their dropped-jaw looks. Tonight was no different. They entered the expansive dining room that was constructred of Italian marble. The back wall was a hand-painted mural of the skyline of the Russian city of St. Petersburg, making it feel like you were there. Not almost feel like you were there—actually seem like you were overlooking the city.

  They were seated at an immense dining table that was prepared with caviar and vodka—two Sarvydas essentials. The view opposite the St. Petersburg skyline was of the Mediterranean Sea, a spectacular sight from the mansion’s perch on the cliffs of Netanya. This was no mural—it was very real, as was the bulletproof glass of the window they peered through. The glass could stop a heat-seeking missile, but didn’t diminish the view of the sun beginning to sink into the sea. While night was approaching in Israel, Viktor’s mind was on events unfolding in the States, where it was just midday.

  A less attractive sight was the presence of his protectors, caressing their trusty machine-guns. They were a necessary evil. He had many enemies who aspired to knock off the don of the Russian Mafiya. Sarvydas knew this from experience. The reason he was here was because he took out his predecessor—Vladimir Miklacz—who also happened to be his father-in-law. The lesson was to never trust anyone, especially friends and family.

  His guest sent his guards away so the two men could discuss their business alone. They joined Viktor’s guards on the balcony. It was an awkward mix. Viktor’s group was a collection of renegades, while his guest’s team was made up of elite sharpshooters provided by the state. Still, if forced to choose, Viktor would take his men
every time.

  Viktor raised a goblet of vodka to his guest and toasted, “To friendship and business. A combination that has brought us together again.”

  The man smiled. It was a smile that, along with his constant tan and perfectly groomed silver hair, made him a friend of the camera. And while he and Viktor were approximately the same age, there was no competition when it came to their physical vitality. The man across from him still ran marathons and was fitter than accomplished athletes half his age.

  “I blame you for every gray hair on my head, Viktor,” the Israeli prime minister Ati Kessler said in jest, although Viktor knew it was no joke. But there was really little he could do—he was only a prime minister, not the head of the Russian Mafiya. “Your display at the Wall today has many of my constituents upset with you, if they weren’t already.”

  “In America there is a saying—that’s show business.”

  Kessler’s face tightened. “I’ve done all I can to protect our friendship, but you’ve been pushing the limits since Israel opened its arms to you.”

  “If I’ve offended them with my public posture, then I can only imagine the reaction if they knew my private business affairs,” he paused for a moment, before adding, “Our business affairs.”

  Kessler understood the implication. “Please don’t take what I say as a threat, Viktor. I just have concerns, which I think we can come to agreement on. You know I love you like a brother.”

  “But you love my campaign contributions like a wife. Although, the other money we’ve made acts like your mistress—secret and satisfying.”

  “Thanks to our business arrangements, finances are not a problem for me,” he admitted with another thin grin. His eyes swept the room, before adding, “Although finances seem to be even less of a problem for you, my friend.”

  “There would be many questions asked if you used the money we earned together. Where would such a modest man who dedicated his life to service of his country, get such a personal fortune?”