Ulterior Motives

by Terri Blackstock

“But then she saw it?” Emily whispered.

  “Yes,” Christy said. “And she tiptoed to it. But it needed a key to open it. And she didn’t know where the key was.”

  “What did she do?”

  Christy was getting sleepy even as she spoke. She yawned. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  Emily didn’t answer, and Christy saw that her eyes had closed. Christy rested her head against the wall and surrendered to sweet, merciful sleep. Her last thought before drifting off was, God, please help Beth find the key.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The portable light on their dashboard flashed as Tony drove at breakneck speed to the Tampa Airport. He didn’t want to pass Chamberlain along the way, so he’d chosen an alternate route. Larry was on the radio with the cops who were tailing Chamberlain.

  “Where are you now?”

  “Nearing the airport exit,” they said. “So far, nothing. There’s no cellular antenna on his car. Could he be using a flip phone or something to call them?”

  “No,” Larry said. “I checked. They haven’t heard anything yet. Just don’t lose him, and don’t let him see you. Let him think he’s home free. Remember: There are two little girls whose lives depend on us.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Nelson Chamberlain pulled off the exit ramp of the interstate and headed toward the airport. Almost there.

  He turned toward the rental car return. His first instinct, to abandon the car at the curb of the Delta terminal, had been a bad idea. As far as he knew, they N hadn’t yet traced this crime to him. Even though he’d rented this car under the name John Lieber, he didn’t want any suspicions to arise that Lieber might not be who he said he was.

  Someone met him at the parking lot as he pulled his car in. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Yeah,” Chamberlain said, jumping out of the car and grabbing the garment bag. “I’m late for my flight. Could you take care of this?”

  “No sir. You have to go inside.”

  “I can’t!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “This should cover whatever I might still owe. Just take care of it, and you can keep the rest.”

  The man hesitated. “Well, all right. The shuttle to the terminal is right over there. It’s almost ready to leave.”

  Chamberlain leaped onto the shuttle. “Delta,” he told the driver. “And hurry.”

  The other two passengers on the shuttle gave him indolent glances, then turned their gazes out the window. The shuttle started to leave.

  “Wait!” Two men outside yelled at the bus driver, and he stopped.

  They jumped on, breathless. “We almost missed you. Thanks for waiting.”

  One of them slid his duffel bag under the seat and sat next to Chamberlain as the shuttle started to leave; the other sat across from him, a garment bag slung over his shoulder.

  Chamberlain dug his ticket out of his coat pocket and looked down to make sure that he wasn’t late for his meeting with Boudreaux, and that he still had enough time to make the flight.

  “What terminal?” the driver asked.

  “Delta,” Chamberlain said.

  “Same here,” one of the two men called out.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  So where is he now?” Larry asked via radio as he and Tony approached the airport and took the ramp heading for the terminals.

  “On the rental car shuttle,” a cop said. “Nick and John are on there with him. They’re plain-clothed, so he won’t know who they are.”

  “Good going,” Larry said. “We’re almost at the terminals now. Any idea which one he’s headed for?”

  “Not yet,” the cop said. “But we’ll have all of them covered. We have a couple of guys going over the rental car as we speak. Maybe we’ll find some clues there.”

  Tony pulled over to wait for the rental car shuttle to come around. Moments later, it passed them and stopped at American. One passenger got off. Then it went a few feet to the TWA terminal. Another passenger got off.

  “They’re stopping at Delta,” Larry said into the radio seconds later. “Three men are getting off. Yep. John and Nick are two of them. The other one doesn’t look like him, but it’s got to be. There’s nobody else on the bus. He’s wearing a black mustache and a goatee, a hat, and tinted glasses. Carrying a garment bag over his shoulder. Give him a chance to check in and make the call. He still might do it.”

  Abandoning their car, they both followed through the door where Chamberlain had gone. They saw the man up ahead, closely followed by the two cops.

  “Come on,” Tony whispered. “Go to the pay phone. Make the call.”

  But the man headed, instead, toward the gate where his plane would soon be boarding. He checked in at the desk, and they all waited from a distance to see if he’d still turn and make that call. Instead, he turned and, still carrying the garment bag over his shoulder, went into a bar several yards down. He hesitated at the doorway, looked around, then approached a well-dressed man sitting at the back in a booth by himself.

  Larry and Tony watched as the other man stood up, and the two shook hands. Chamberlain slipped into the booth, and for a moment, they could only see the back of his head.

  “All right,” Tony told Larry. “This must be the buyer for the painting. Let’s just hang back and take it easy. If we play our cards right, we’ll kill two birds with one stone. We’ll get him and the buyer.”

  They waited as seconds ticked off, and as the time grew closer for Chamberlain’s plane to take off.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  In the booth at the back of the bar, where they were hidden by two half-walls with planters full of greenery, Chamberlain unzipped the bag, pulled out the cylinder, and handed the awkward package across the table to Boudreaux. The man’s eyes were huge and awestruck as he carefully removed the contents. The canvas covered the width of the table; unrolled, it extended two feet beyond the edge. Chamberlain helped him hold it uncurled as Boudreaux gazed down at The Multitude.

  “It’s magnificent,” Boudreaux said, breathless. “Just as I remember it.” He was beginning to perspire, and he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.

  “Where’s the money?” Chamberlain asked.

  “Fifteen million,” Boudreaux told him. “It is safely in a bank account in Switzerland. The account was opened under the name John Lieber.” He pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket. “All of the necessary documents are here. In fact, if you wish to call the bank to make sure the funds are there—” He checked his watch. “I believe you would have no problem.”

  Chamberlain pulled the documents out and studied them. “Yes, I would like to call.”

  “All right,” Boudreaux said, carefully holding the rolled canvas. “Here is the security code for that account, as well as the account number. The telephone number is on the front of the document.”

  “Stay here,” Chamberlain said. He got up and asked the bartender if he could use his phone to make a credit card call. The man slid the phone across the counter.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  From outside the restaurant, Tony watched Chamberlain pick up the phone. “He’s calling!”

  “Maybe,” Larry agreed. “But we can’t apprehend him until we’ve confirmed it. I’ll go call our guys over at the Robinson’s and make sure that’s who he’s talking to.”

  “All right,” Tony said. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get as close as I can. He doesn’t know me. Let me know the second you have confirmation, and tell all the others to stand by.”

  Tony couldn’t get close enough to hear the telephone conversation, but he found a place at a table that Chamberlain would have to pass on his way out of the bar. He sat down and strained to hear, but the classical music playing over the sound system was too loud, and Chamberlain was turned away from him.

  Let him tell them, he prayed without even realizing it.

  He was on the phone longer than Tony would have imagined, but Tony sat patiently, wa
iting for him to finish. He saw the man turn back toward the phone, as if preparing to hang up, and Tony slipped his hand under his sport coat, ready to draw his gun.

  Chamberlain hung up and turned back to the table. The other man rose again, shook his hand, and slipped the painting back into the garment bag.

  Tony began to sweat. Where was Larry? It was the perfect time, the perfect place to arrest both men without drawing undue attention. If they got out of the restaurant, it would make everything more difficult.

  Chamberlain checked his watch. Then he paid his bill with the credit card that probably had Ben Robinson’s or John Lieber’s name on it so there would still be no trace that Chamberlain had ever returned from London.

  Tony got up and glanced out into the corridor, where people hurried past. Sweat began to trickle down his temples.

  And then he saw Larry rush up to the doorway of the place, shaking his head and mouthing, “No.”

  Tony gaped at him. “No?” he mouthed back.

  Chamberlain started out of the restaurant, and Tony had no choice but to follow him. Other plain-clothed cops were coming in with their eyes on Boudreaux, prepared to arrest him and confiscate the painting as soon as Chamberlain was gone.

  Tony followed him through the crowds, only feet behind him. Larry caught up with him.

  “What’s the story?” Tony demanded in a low voice.

  “He didn’t call. They haven’t heard from him.”

  Tony let a curse fly under his breath. “I still say he’s going to wait until he’s on the plane.”

  “We’ve got to get him before he gets on the plane, Tony. We have no choice. You know our orders.”

  Tony saw Chamberlain heading for the Delta concourse, and he hurried to stay close behind him. Chamberlain was hurrying—almost running, and the faster he went, the more people seemed to gravitate between them. Tony broke into a run, bumped into a man, and almost knocked him down. He didn’t stop, just kept pushing on, no longer depending on Larry or John or Nick or any of the others who waited for his signal.

  As if he sensed he was being followed, Chamberlain zigzagged through people, trying to blend. At Gate 16, the flight was already boarding, and Chamberlain shot up to the flight attendant taking the tickets.

  Tony bolted forward, grabbed the man, and flung him back against the wall. “Where are they? Where did you leave them?”

  Chamberlain was visibly shocked. Had this guy really thought he’d get away with it? Tony wondered. “What?” Chamberlain asked.

  “Where are they?” Tony screamed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chamberlain bit out.

  “Where are the girls, Chamberlain?” Tony’s eyes stung as he took the man by the collar and shoved him again. “The ones you kidnapped?”

  “I didn’t kidnap anyone.”

  Tony flung him into the wall, face first, then ripped his goatee off and threw it down. Getting a handful of his hair, he asked, “Where are the children?”

  Chamberlain closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I had nothing to do with any children.”

  Tony slammed Chamberlain’s face into the wall again, then Larry pulled him off. “OK, Tony, get a grip!”

  “Where are they?” Tony yelled. “What did you do with them, slimeball!”

  But it was no use. Chamberlain wasn’t talking.

  “Read him his rights,” Larry said to the other cops as he tried to calm Tony. “We’re gonna go get some air. We’ll meet you back at the station.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Where are the children?” Tony Danks’s question was posed with more calculated calmness now as he stood over the table where Nelson Chamberlain sat in the interrogation room of the St. Clair Police Department. But the look on his face belied that calm tone. He looked like a man who could rip Chamberlain’s head off with his bare hands.

  Larry sat across from Chamberlain, playing the good-guy to Tony’s bad-guy routine. But tonight, Tony’s behavior was no act. “Calm down, Tony,” Larry said in a quieter voice. “Let the man talk.”

  But Chamberlain wasn’t interested in talking. He studied his well-groomed fingernails, leaned back, crossed his ankle over his knee, and didn’t say a word.

  Larry tried again. “Look, it’s not going to do you any good to leave those kids out there all alone. The jig’s up, Chamberlain. You’ve been caught. Tell us where to find the kids, and the DA might show some leniency.”

  Chamberlain breathed a sardonic laugh. “I’m charged with murder, kidnapping, and theft. Do you honestly think they’re just going to let me go if I talk? My reputation is already ruined. The way you keystone cops arrested me right in public in the airport, it’s guaranteed to be all over the news by morning. It might even be grounds for a lawsuit after I’m acquitted. Defamation of character.”

  “You bet I’ll defame your character,” Tony bit out. “CNN has been following the kidnapping. They’re right outside this office door as we speak, waiting to get a shot of the monster they’ve been speculating about.”

  Larry gestured for Tony to calm down again. “Why won’t you tell us?” he asked. “Those kids are innocent. They haven’t done anything.”

  “Why won’t I talk?” Chamberlain asked flippantly. “Because I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. This is all a very stupid mistake.”

  Tony kicked the chair next to Larry. The sound made Chamberlain jump, and when Tony grabbed Chamberlain’s collar and pulled him face-to-face, he dropped his flippant look. “You had the painting, Chamberlain. The painting that you exchanged for information about the kids. We know you know where they are.”

  “I told you. I don’t know anything.”

  All three men were starting to sweat. Tony let the man go, and he jerked free and straightened his shirt, which was dirty from his roll down the hill after he jumped out of the train.

  Larry leaned forward on the table and fixed his eyes on Chamberlain’s. “Are they dead or alive?”

  “I’m not saying anything else until I’ve got a lawyer sitting beside me.”

  Tony snapped. In one swift motion, he grabbed Chamberlain and threw him back against the wall, knocking his chair over.

  “You’re not in control here, Chamberlain! You got that? You’re not calling the shots here. You have a choice. Either you talk, or I’ll see to it that that well-groomed profile of yours is drastically altered. You like art, Chamberlain? You’re gonna need an artist to repair your face when I get through with you.”

  “Where are the kids?” Larry asked again, louder.

  Chamberlain closed his eyes but didn’t answer. Tony flung him a few feet, letting him drop to the floor. “I’ve had it with this low-life. I’m throwing the book at him. And I’m locking him in the old wing. Let him sit in the dark, in the damp for a while, and see if he can remember where he put those kids.”

  Larry looked alarmed. “Tony, that wing is condemned. It’s infested with rats. Captain told us not to put any more prisoners there.”

  Chamberlain looked up at them, wide-eyed, from his position on the floor. “I want a lawyer. Now.”

  “You’ve already called one,” Tony said. “It’s not my fault he’s out-of-pocket. Guess your luck is just going bad.” He jerked him back up off the floor and pulled him toward the door. “I’ll get him processed. That’s when they strip you down, Nelson, old boy, and they search you real thoroughly. And then they give you some nice prison duds. You’ll like them. ’Course that bright orange seems to attract the rats, rather than repel them. But you don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

  Chamberlain was sweating heavily now, and trembling slightly.

  Larry stood up and stopped them at the door. “Tony, let me talk to him a minute. Just the two of us. You go outside and calm down.”

  Tony paused a moment, then finally agreed. He shoved Chamberlain back in, and slammed the door as he stormed out.

  “Anything?” the captain asked, coming out of his office into the hallway.
<
br />   “Nothing yet,” Tony said. He rushed around to the two-way mirror and watched as Larry kindly told Chamberlain to sit back down. He asked him if he was thirsty, then poured him some water, and waited quietly while he drank.

  The captain joined Tony at the window. “So you played the insane cop about to snap and tear into him?”

  Tony nodded without taking his eyes off of the criminal. “Only it wasn’t an act.”

  Chamberlain drooped over the table, raking his hands through his short-cropped hair. “Tony’s a little high-strung,” Larry said in a quiet, soothing voice. “He sometimes flies off the handle. I’ve seen him do worse than that to a suspect before. He just loses it, somehow, and he doesn’t care what the rules are, or what kind of trouble he might get into. He has a one-track mind. I apologize for his behavior.”

  Tony couldn’t help his slight grin as the captain chuckled.

  “I’m not sure I can keep him from doing any of what he threatened, though, and just between you and me, he can be pretty tough. One suspect reported him from the hospital, and Internal Affairs got hold of it—”

  “Hospital?” Chamberlain asked.

  Larry paused and nodded. “Yeah. It was real ugly. Anyway, I’d hate to have you be another statistic, when all you’d have to do is just come clean. Keeping those kids’ hiding place secret is not going to help you at all. It’s only going to hurt you.”

  “I’m not going to prison for kidnapping.”

  “Even without the kidnapping, we have murder. It’s a cut-and-dried case, Chamberlain. You could get the chair for that. But if you cooperate and let us know where Christy and Emily are, maybe the judge will go easier on you. Maybe he’d even let you out on bond.”

  “Where’s the painting?” Chamberlain asked. “What did you do with it?”

  “It’s being tagged as evidence.”

  “It’s priceless, you know. And I own it. When they find me innocent, it will be returned to me, won’t it?”

  “Certainly. As long as we can verify that it wasn’t a stolen painting, and that you indeed have proof of ownership.”