by Linda Ladd
They chatted some more. The Hammonses had lots of baby pictures of Rico that they’d brought along, as well as some happy family portraits of him with his parents. They had a copy of his birth certificate and every other kind of document that Black would need to see as proof that Rico was truly their grandson. More than enough.
“Okay, if you’re sure it’s all right, we’d like to take him out.”
“Of course. Rico, it’s okay if you want to go shopping with them,” Black told the boy. “Claire and I will be fine right here.”
The child nodded and gave them a big, bright smile. “Okay, but we’re coming back here tonight, aren’t we?” he asked his grandparents. “They’ll be missing me if we don’t. And Harve will, too. He’s my best friend now.”
“We sure will, sweetie, we’ll come right back here after we eat and do some shopping. We’ll check in before we leave,” his grandmother told him and then gave him another tight squeeze.
“Don’t worry about that,” Black said. “I’ll arrange everything for you. Just go to the desk when you come back and ask for the key to your suite.”
They left a few minutes later, holding hands in a swirl of excited talk and memories and easy laughter. Claire and Black sat silently together after the elevator doors had whispered closed down the hall. He looked at Claire. She was trying her level best to look positive, probably more for his benefit than anything else. That’s what she usually did when she thought he was hurt or upset.
“C’mon, Black. You look as though you’ve lost your last friend.”
“So do you. But that’s how we feel. No use in denying it.”
“I know.”
“They’re going to want him back.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to lose him.”
“I don’t either.”
Black pulled her into his arms and held her close. He laid his cheek on top of her head, sighing. “He’ll want to go home with them, you know. Once he gets used to the idea.”
“He can come see us.”
“Yeah.”
But they were both sick with the kind of loss that penetrated their hearts. They sat there together, and Black hugged her closer. Neither of them cried, but both of them wanted to.
Chapter 19
Special Agent Brady arrived at Cedar Bend the next afternoon right before three o’clock, punctual as usual. Claire met him in the lobby, and they rode up to the rock star’s suite and escorted a quiet and subdued Jonesy Jax down to the back lobby. He was dressed appropriately in a dark suit, white shirt, and gray and white tie, with a black winter raincoat. Showing respect for his daughter. Something Claire had not totally expected to see from him, but it was a nice thing. Maybe Black had been right about the guy. Maybe there was more to Jonesy Jax than she had figured. At the rear exterior door, Claire explained to him where the paparazzi were lurking and pulled up the hood on his coat to hide his identity, and then she did the same thing for herself. Jonesy pulled out a pair of expensive sunglasses and pushed them on as they made their way down the snowy sidewalk to Brady’s Ford Fusion.
Photographers lined the barricade about forty yards across the lawn but didn’t seem to recognize the famous rock star―and thank goodness for that. When they saw him and realized he was outside, absolute hell was going to break loose and send Cedar Bend Lodge, the lake, and all its inhabitants into a world of hurt. It was exactly the kind of thing that Claire and Brady did not need to deal with.
Once inside the car, Jonesy hunkered down in the back seat and tried to make himself invisible as they headed off to the morgue for one very unpleasant task. Fun, fun―not really. Zero, in fact. That’s the only kind that Claire seemed to be having lately, anyway.
It was not a good time for her or anyone that she knew. Black was still acting like he was fine and happy the Hammonses had shown up, but he wasn’t fooling her. He was down in the dumps right alongside her, a situation Claire had rarely seen. Rico was now spending every waking moment with his beloved Memo and Papa. Black and Claire had seen very little of him since they’d arrived―he had even spent the night in their suite. But Black had always been the kind of guy who recognized the writing on the wall when he saw it. A man as emotional as Jonesy Jax, on the other hand, was going to have a hard time identifying his dead daughter’s body without going to pieces―that was the understatement of the year.
They negotiated slick streets and light snowfall in hushed silence until they finally pulled into the medical examiner’s parking lot. Brady chose a parking space at the end of the building, a good distance from the front door, for some reason that Claire couldn’t fathom. Maybe he liked to slide around on slick sidewalks until he fell and broke his arm. Maybe he was prolonging Jonesy’s emotional breakdown out of personal dread. As soon as Brady killed the motor, Claire turned around and looked at the heretofore crazy ass rock star. Now he looked absolutely as white as a brand-new percale sheet, fresh out of the package. His eyes were glazed over with either tranquilizers or fear, probably both. He looked as if he was going to keel over right there and sob his heart out. But then, as she nodded to him, he straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay, let’s get this thing over with. Please. I have to do it. For her. But I’d rather jump into hell with both feet.”
A good analogy, and pretty much what he was about to do. Claire felt for him, she really did. “Okay, Mr. Jax, but first, let me tell you how it’s going to go down inside the office. That okay with you?”
“Yes,” he answered, but his sick expression told her that he just might throw up whatever pills he’d swallowed that morning.
“You will view your daughter’s remains through a screened window from an outside hallway. The morgue assistant, Johnny Becker, will fold back the sheet covering her head, only enough to allow you to identify her. You won’t be able to see anything but her face. The process will only take a moment, and then it will be over. He will cover her again, and the blinds will be closed. Do you understand? Is that procedure all right with you?”
Jonesy just nodded. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go in there and see her. I don’t think I can.” Claire and Brady looked at each other, then turned back to the grieving father, who continued in a shaky voice. “But I know I have to. I owe it to poor little Heather and to myself to do the right thing.”
Claire really felt sorry for the guy. He was crushed, beaten down to a mere replica of his usual bold, abrasive self. “We do understand how hard this is, Mr. Jax. We do. I promise you that. You can take all the time you need with her, if you should choose to. Or you can just look, identify her, and we’ll take you home. We are here to help you get through this.”
Jonesy broke down and began sobbing again. Claire’s heart clutched, because she knew exactly how he felt. Her low regard for the man in the back seat had certainly taken a one-eighty. He was okay under all that stupid showmanship, it appeared. He was suffering now, and suffering brutally, and it was difficult for her to watch. She’d be glad when it was over and she could concentrate her energy on finding that young woman’s killer.
“Okay then, let’s just do it,” she said after a few minutes.
The three of them just sat there, unmoving. Claire was waiting for Jonesy to pull the back door handle and exit the car. Brady said nothing, but a glance told her that he was nervous. Jonesy looked at Claire and wiped away more tears with a clean white handkerchief. “I appreciate your kindness, Mrs. Black. So much. Believe me when I say that.”
Claire nodded. “Fifteen minutes from now? It will all be over.”
“Okay, Claire. Put your hands on the dash, and don’t try anything stupid.”
At first, Claire didn’t gather what Brady was talking about. She looked at him, and then she looked at the small weapon he held in his right hand. It looked like a tranquilizer dart gun, the kind they used on wild animals. He was pointing i
t at her chest.
Jonesy sat up straighter. “Hey, what the hell―”
Brady turned quickly and shot a dart into Jonesy’s chest, then quickly swiveled back to Claire. He hastily inserted another dart. That’s when Claire reacted, trying to knock his gun hand aside with her left hand as she scratched inside her coat for her Glock, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The dart hit her in the side of her neck. She jerked it out about the same time she got her weapon out, but not fast enough to pull the trigger. Brady grabbed her gun arm, and the drug hit her hard and fast. All she saw was a flash of white light and a blur of reality―then there was nothing.
Play Time
Lucky backed his newly purchased Ford out of the parking space at the front of the Canton County morgue, maneuvered his way out to the street, and then turned left and headed toward the millhouse. Claire Morgan was slumped unconscious in the passenger’s seat beside him, and Junior’s soon-to-be-dead daddy was sprawled across the back seat. The animal tranquilizer had acted fast, but that’s why they’d chosen it. He really hadn’t meant to shoot them until after Jonesy identified his daughter’s body, but he could not resist the temptation. It had been the perfect time and place. Nobody around. No cars on the street. No witnesses, whatsoever. Nobody knew what time they’d arrived, or if they had arrived at all. There were no windows at the front of the morgue, just the front door, which had no windows. No traffic passing by on such a cold and snowy afternoon, and it was soon to be dark. Anything could have gone wrong inside with the medical examiner and his staff, so he had acted on impulse. But he had always been good at choosing the right move at the right time. Yep, good timing was everything, and he had developed a real knack for it. Always had it, really. Rarely had it turned out to be an ill-conceived action for him.
Reaching over, he pulled the tough and suspicious detective over toward him and down below the window where nobody would spot her. He reached over again and got the Glock still in her hand. She had gotten to it fast, but not fast enough. She had not come out the winner this time around, but he had no doubt she’d shoot him point-blank if she came to with a weapon in her hand. She was a worthy adversary, and he had better remember that.
Lucky drove until he reached the gravel road that led out into the woods. He laughed softly when he took the turn. “Man alive, this is just going great. Junior is going to be pleased as punch, all right. His daddy and the detective, both in one fell swoop.” Awesome, man, he was awesome.
He couldn’t blame Claire for being so gullible. It wasn’t her fault. It was Sheriff Charles Ramsay’s fault. Everything Lucky had given him had looked legitimate, but was only an illusion. Special Agent Bob Brady was a real FBI agent, oh yeah, he sure was, one that had been hot on their trail. That is, until about a week ago when they’d caught him sneaking around the mill. They had captured him easily enough, then they’d put him through their own special kind of ringer until he spilled his guts and told them everything they needed to know about his case against them.
Lucky smiled to himself. Brady had been investigating them for years, alerted to Heather Jax’s death by the dog tag found inside her. He had been suspicious of Junior and Lucky both, but Lucky had been his main target. He’d left his thick FBI file on Lucky’s homicidal childhood inside the trunk of his car, labeled with his real name, Troy Edward Wood. It had been a godsend for their plans, and Lucky had jumped at the chance to impersonate him.
All Lucky had to do was don the badge and show up at Ramsay’s office with that extremely incriminating file. Lucky chose only the photographs that did not look like him and destroyed the others. He didn’t look the same anymore, anyway: he was bigger and buffer and his hair was dark, but he still didn’t take that chance. He told the sheriff the truth, albeit Bob Brady’s story of chasing two murderers across the country. Lucky was in on the case against him and Junior. It was the most delicious ruse that he’d ever played, and he’d played a lot. He was a good actor and a good liar and could fool the best of them.
Claire Morgan had been suspicious at first, more so than most of his rubes had been in the past, he’d give her that, but she’d had no recourse but to work with him. She’d been ordered to. When he’d run down her partner in front of Games Galore, he hadn’t realized what a serendipitous snap decision it would turn out to be. He had wanted to kill his big brother, Oliver, who was also out to get him for killing their mother. Oliver got away; he hadn’t seen him since. It worried him, but not too much. They wouldn’t hang around long after they killed Jonesy and the detective.
Best of all? He now had Claire Morgan at his disposal, to do with whatever he wanted. She was going to be a fun captive. She would not bend easily, and those were the kinds of victims he liked best. In just a little while, she was going to be very sorry she’d gone after Junior and him so hard. Sorry she’d trusted a false Bob Brady, too. He had looked forward to having her under his control since the first minute he’d seen her photograph in that tabloid.
And Lucky was going to have her to himself, because Junior would only have eyes for his daddy. Both of them were in for a special treat today. Claire Morgan and Jonesy Jax. Two prime catches, both well-known and notorious. Real notches on his belt. He was still grinning when he turned and drove up the deserted gravel road that led to their millhouse lair. He could barely wait for the moment their two newest victims would wake up and find out what hot water they were in. Wow, the things they were going to do with these two poor souls. Lucky got shivers all over, just thinking about the hours of fun he was about to enjoy.
Chapter 20
Smiling, about as happy as he’d ever been, Rico strolled along between his Memo and Papa on the sidewalk of a big outdoor mall. They were all holding hands, both of his grandparents, one on each side of him. He was a little old for them to be hanging on to him like he was a little kid or something, but he didn’t say anything. He still couldn’t believe they had showed up, just like that. When Nick and Claire couldn’t find them no matter how hard they looked―and they were really good at finding people―Rico had given up on ever seeing his grandparents again. He’d got to thinking that they’d been murdered like his mom and dad.
But here they were, and just because they’d seen those pictures of Claire that Black didn’t like so much. They were right here with him and he was so excited about it that it was hard to stop grinning. Sometimes, though, he’d think about it and feel sort of bad, too, especially if he had to leave the lake and all his friends. The more he thought about leaving Cedar Bend, the more upset he became. He didn’t know what to do about it, either.
Memo and Papa were just so happy to see him. He could see that, for sure, how pleased they were. They looked older than they had before, but it had been a long time since Rico and his parents left California to go hide in that witness protection program on that island. Memo told him that her hair turned white when they thought Rico was lost somewhere and they would never find him. He wasn’t so sure about that, though. It wasn’t all the way white, anyway. It still had lots of brown in it.
So far tonight they’d gone into lots of different stores, especially toy stores and department stores, anywhere that he wanted to go, really. All he had to do was ask, and they’d do it. That’s how glad they were to see him. They’d bought him lots of stuff, too, just about anything he said he liked. That was awesome, and then they’d taken him to eat at McDonald’s when he’d wanted a Big Mac meal. Memo sat close beside him in the booth, and Papa sat across from them, smiling the entire time. They just kept up that smiling and smiling, and laughing some, and Rico did, too, but now, inside his head, he was feeling awfully worried about things. Now he didn’t know what to do or what he really wanted.
If he left the lake to live with his grandparents, which is pretty much what they wanted him to do, then they were going to take him back to Canada and live in some big city called Toronto. But what about Claire and Nick? He’d never get to see them. Canada was up north, a
whole different country. Thinking about that made him feel pretty bad. He loved Claire and Nick. He loved living with them. But he loved his Memo and Papa, too. He loved them all the same: a lot.
After they left McDonald’s, Memo decided they should stop one last time at a different mall and buy Claire and Nick a gift for taking such good care of him all this time. Rico had been telling them how good they’d treated him since they’d been together, but he couldn’t really think of anything to buy them because Claire and Black already had a whole lot of neat stuff. Just about everything anybody could want, really. Especially Nick. They were pretty darn rich, he guessed.
“They like pictures,” he finally suggested as they browsed around Macy’s. “You know, pictures of me, and of them, and of the places we go together. When we lived out there on that island called Kauai for a while, Nick took lots of pictures of us. Even Harve got to go with us. He’s real nice. I helped him decorate his tree.”
“Really? Tell us about Harve,” said Papa.
“He’s lots of fun. He’s got to sit in a wheelchair all the time, you know, to get around and stuff. He used to be a policeman in Los Angeles with Claire. He takes me fishing all the time. That’s his favorite thing to do. He taught me how to use a spinner bait and purple plastic worms when we want to catch bass, and all kinds of stuff like that. It’s always fun when I get to be with him.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you have such a good friend here.”
Rico smiled at his Papa.
“Yes, we saw those pictures of you out in Hawaii in the magazines,” Memo was telling him. “That’s how we found out where you were. We were just so thrilled to see that you were safe and sound. It’s a miracle, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
Rico nodded and followed her down the aisle while she kept looking for more things to buy. She finally decided to get Claire and Black some pretty silver picture frames, and she asked Rico to help her choose which ones they’d like the best. Rico told her it would be good if she added a big package of Snickers to put with those frames because Claire liked those candy bars a lot, and maybe then she could get some yellow legal pads because Nick was always writing stuff down on them. They said of course they would. It was fun, really, being with them again, at least until he remembered that he’d probably have to leave Cedar Bend and the special bedroom that Nick had fixed up with all the Star Wars wallpaper and posters and stuff. He was going to get his own room at Claire’s new cabin, too, as soon as the carpenters were completely done with it. But when he left, he wouldn’t even see them anymore. Not very often, anyway. He felt the burn of tears for a second time that night, but he turned his head away and didn’t let his grandparents see that he was real sad, too, even when he was so happy.
