Thread of Fear

by Jeff Shelby

  “I don't want the money,” I said. “It's not mine.”

  “It's probably fairly sizable if he'd convinced Mr. Dennison to share information with him.”

  “I don't care,” I said. “It's not mine and I don't want it.” I didn't want to be tied to Delzano or Anchor or anyone from this case. Once I was done, I was done. Just like I'd told Lauren.

  “Understood,” he said. “Alright. I will reach out to Mr. Delzano and let him know that we are all working under the notion that you will be left to your own devices to find Mr. Dennison without any interference.” He paused. “Did he mention wanting to see Mr. Dennison again?”

  I squinted into the sunshine, the phone pressed to my ear. “He seemed to understand that wasn't going to happen.”

  “I would hope you didn't tell him—”

  “I didn't,” I said. “I think he understood you wanted him. We didn't really discuss it.”

  “To be clear, Mr. Tyler. I don't want him. I don't need to see him again. No one needs to see him again.”

  I stepped around two women loaded down with shopping bags. They were dressed in sundresses, their Michael Kors bags slung over their shoulders, designer sunglasses perched on their faces.

  “Yeah. I'm clear on that.”

  “Good,” he said. “Also, I'm sorry that the accommodations I arranged for you proved to be unsuitable. Are you the enjoying the Monte Carlo?”

  My hand tightened around the phone. He was letting me know that even if I didn't see his men, they were keeping tabs on me.

  “It's fine,” I said.

  “I'll be in touch,” Anchor said, then hung up.

  I shoved the phone back in my pocket, then stopped and turned around. I didn't see the SUV or the guy with the gun. I scanned the people on the sidewalks, looking for a familiar face. The bald guy from the club was nowhere to be found. Delzano wasn't lurking behind a corner. None of the detectives or the police officers from my earlier run-in had me on surveillance... at least that I could see. I glanced out at the cars on the boulevard, at the taxis and trucks and cars streaming past. No one stopped, no one looked at me.

  I tried to breathe a sigh of relief. But I couldn't. Just because I didn't see anyone didn't mean someone was watching me.

  TWENTY NINE

  I walked back into my room at the Monte Carlo.

  I surveyed the room. My eyes zeroed in on the phone sitting on the nightstand. Two minutes later, I'd taken it apart. And found nothing. I unplugged each lamp and examined it from top to bottom, running my fingers along the metal post, checking out the wires and the shades. Nothing. I checked along the drapes, the television. Opened drawers on the dresser, lifted the Bible out of the drawer on the nightstand. Nothing.

  It took me two hours to sweep the room entirely and decide that no one had been in it other than me.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and squeezed my eyes shut. The paranoia was slowly taking hold of me. Not that I hadn't been given reason to think I needed to watch my back, but now I was on edge. I wasn't sure that Anchor could deliver on his promise to keep Delzano off my back. Delzano didn't seem like he'd much care for taking orders from Anchor and lying to Anchor didn't seem like it was beneath him, either. And then there were the police. What if they caught wind of what was going on with Dennison? What if they were somehow able to link Carina's death wit Delzano or Anchor? And where did that leave me?

  I pushed off the bed and opened the mini bar. I popped open the bottle of Jack Daniels and took a swig. There was something else bothering me, too. Something I didn't want to be thinking about.

  The money.

  I swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. Money had been on my mind, in general. If I was going to quit investigating and Lauren was going to be on maternity leave, then money was going to be tight. We wouldn't be poor, but we'd have less. And I didn't know if Lauren would want to go back to work after having the baby. If she didn't want to, I didn't want her to feel like she had to. Which meant I would need to find work.

  Or money.

  I didn't want to take any money that I found on Dennison, Anchor's or Delzano's. The phrase dirty money got tossed around too often, but that was absolutely what Dennison had. Anchor's, even if it had come through legitimate business enterprises, was still tainted by what they were capable of. Delzano's, I had no doubt, was obtained in some awful way, be it illegal operations or by force.

  So my gut reaction was to refuse it, to want nothing to do with it.

  But I also knew that refusing it wouldn't change anything. Anchor would still be operating in gray areas. Delzano would still be a sleaze. My not having it wouldn't cleanse it in any way. And if I was really going to have to take out Dennison if I found him, didn't I deserve it?

  If it could help my family, why not take it?

  I brought the bottle to my lips again. And I saw Lauren's face. I was back on the couch with her again, trying to tell her about Anchor and what he'd asked me to do and she was telling me no, she didn't want to hear it. And I saw that expression of hers again – the fear and the disgust at war on her delicate features. What would she say if I came back loaded with cash? How would she react? And what would Elizabeth think if she ever found out? I'd rescued her from the bad guys. And there I was, contemplating becoming one.

  I drained the bottle and wiped my almost-numb lips and looked around the room. I needed to put everything back together after my thorough sweep. It was a mess and I didn't want to leave it that way.

  I tossed the empty bottle in the trash and tackled the first piece of upended furniture. I put the money out of mind. Not because I'd made a decision and not because I'd determined I'd be strong enough to turn it down. I stopped thinking about it because I wasn't sure it was ever going to be a question I'd have to worry about.

  Because finding the money meant I'd have to find Dennison.

  And I didn't know if that was going to happen.

  THIRTY

  “Mr. Tyler.” Kathleen Dennison's face registered a look of surprise. “I wasn't expecting you.”

  It was early morning and I was standing on her doorstep. I hadn't shaved, hadn't eaten.

  I tried to force a smile. “I'm sorry. I should have called.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “Forgive me for looking like this,” she said, glancing down at the yoga pants and loose-fitting black t-shirt. Her hair was unbrushed, her face flushed. “I was in the middle of my morning workout. Yoga.”

  “I won't be long,” I told her.

  She held the door open, an invitation to come inside. I folded my arms against my chest and stayed where I was.

  She frowned. “Do you have... news?”

  I'd stayed up most of the night, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see a face. Anchor and Delzano, for sure, and Delzano's thugs. But other faces, too. Patrick Dennison. It had been years since I'd seen him in person, but it hadn't dulled my memory. Kathleen. Carina. And then Lauren and Elizabeth. The baby that would be born soon.

  The case wasn't just about me and finding Patrick Dennison and settling my debt with Anchor. There were other people involved, vulnerable people who could and would be hurt by the actions I was being forced to take. Carina had already suffered the consequences and even though I knew it hadn't been my fault, I still felt responsible, like I had somehow facilitated her murder.

  I still hadn't figured out how I was going to live with myself after taking care of Anchor's problem and I was still wrestling with the bonus Anchor had offered – Delzano's money – but there was one thing I had made up my mind about.

  “Yes and no,” I said. I pushed my sunglasses up on to my nose.

  She pressed her lips together and nodded, steeling herself for the news.

  “I haven't found Patrick,” I said quickly, trying to put her at ease. Her shoulders relaxed. I reached into my pocket and fished out the check she'd written. I'd never cashed it. “But I'm taking myself off the case.”

  She stared at my outs
tretched hand. “What?”

  “I'm taking myself off the case,” I repeated.

  “But...” Kathleen's mouth was open, her eyes wide with confusion. “Why?”

  A million reasons. But mostly, because I was working for someone else who had a different outcome in mind for her husband. She wanted me to bring him home and Anchor wanted me to terminate him. And even though she had paid me to find him, to bring him back to her, Anchor's request still trumped hers.

  “The trail is dead,” I told her instead. “There aren't any leads. And my family needs me.”

  Her eyebrows drew together and her gaze turned steely. “No leads? What about the missing camping equipment? The sand?”

  I exhaled. “It's not enough,” I said finally. “You live in a desert. The sand could be from your own backyard, when Patrick initially set up the equipment.”

  “No,” she said. Her voice was elevated. “That's not it. You know it and I know it. And the equipment is gone – doesn't that mean he's... somewhere? That he left on purpose, for whatever reason?”

  “I don't know,” I said. “There just isn't enough to go on.”

  “Bullshit.” She shook her head. “You know it and I know it. You found missing kids, Mr. Tyler. Kids who'd disappeared without a trace. You found your own daughter after she'd been missing for years. Don't you dare tell me there isn't enough to go on.”

  “There's nothing else to say,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

  I turned to leave.

  “Don't you dare leave!” she screamed. “I lost my son! I can't lose my husband, too. I can't.”

  She was crying, deep heaving sobs that drove a spike of guilt straight into my heart. But I forced my feet to keep moving.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Please. Don't leave. No one else will help. No one else will look for him.”

  I stopped and turned back around. She was on her knees in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. Broken.

  “There are other investigators,” I began.

  She shook her head again, violently this time. “They don't know,” she said. “They don't know what it's like to lose a child. And to be faced with another loss.”

  My conscience went to war with itself. I knew I was doing the right thing, cutting ties with her. I couldn't look her in the face and ask questions, pretending that I was working to bring her husband back to her when I was a puppet for someone else, someone who had a very different ending in mind.

  But I'd been in her shoes. For almost a decade, I had suffered the loss of a child, the not knowing, the constant wondering. If I'd lost another person during that time, too? Lauren? It would have broken me. Even though we'd gotten divorced, even though we'd rarely spoken during our separation, it didn't mean that I didn't love her. And it didn't mean I wouldn't have been devastated if she'd disappeared.

  “Look, I know this is hard,” I said, gentling my voice. I took a few steps back toward her. “But I don't think I'm the right person for this.”

  “You said you had new information,” Kathleen said. Her eyes were filled with tears and one escaped, trickling down her cheek. “At least give me that.” She thrust the check toward me. “I'll pay you for it.”

  “I don't want your money.” If Delzano's money felt like dirty money, hers felt more like blood money. I couldn't take a penny from her.

  “Please,” she said. “I'm begging you.”

  I stared at her for a moment. “Alright,” I finally said. “I'll tell you what I know.”

  She looked up at me expectantly. A mixture of hope and fear on her face. It wasn't unlike the look Lauren had given me when I'd gone back home.

  “His job.” I lifted my sunglasses and set them on top of my head. “Has he always done the same thing? The same job?”

  She shook her head, confused. “No. It's a large company. He's bounced around a bit.”

  “So five years? Ten?”

  “How is this new information? You're asking questions and I'm giving answers.”

  “How long?”

  She frowned but answered. “I think he started two years before Aaron went missing.” Her eyes clouded and another tear escaped. “And I hate that I mark all time with that. I hate it.”

  I felt another twinge of guilt. “There's only before and after, right?”

  She looked at me, then nodded. “Yes. That's all there is.”

  I understood because it was how I'd marked time, as well. Things either took place before Elizabeth disappeared or after. It was this giant black mark on my mental calendar and the only thing I was capable of using as a reference point in terms of time. Now that she was home, the markers were different: before she'd been abducted and after she'd been returned to us. Often times, we treated the time in between like this black hole that we didn't acknowledge unless we had to. I didn't know if it was healthy but I knew that, for the time being, it was what worked.

  “Anyway,” Kathleen said. “I think it was about two years before that. He's been with them since.”

  I did the math in my head, going back to when she'd contacted me about Aaron's disappearance. “So about eight years? Because Aaron's been gone for six, correct?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “How did he get the job?”

  “I don't see how this is important to finding him.”

  “Please.”

  Her forehead creased as she thought about my question. “I honestly don't recall. I assume he sent a resume. The same way you'd normally apply for a job.”

  “And what had he done prior to that?”

  “Same thing,” she said. “Commercial real estate for a small firm in Chicago. I remember that he really wanted this job because the pay increase was significant.”

  “The company your husband works for isn't exactly what you think it is.”

  She'd unfolded her arms and her palms were flat against the concrete steps. “What do you mean?”

  “He may have been involved in commercial real estate, but the actual company he works for... I'm not sure what you want to call them, but they're tied to organized crime.”

  She gripped the step with her fingers. “How do you know?”

  I told her, as concisely as possible, about Anchor and Codaselli. I told her about the clubs Patrick was working with in Las Vegas and that he'd been involved in possibly sharing information with a rival organization. She listened quietly, her eyes wide, her tears dried up.

  “So not only was he having an affair, he was lying to me about his job,” she said when I'd finished. “Am I understanding that right?”

  “He may have been doing commercial real estate, too. I don't know,” I said. “But he was definitely spending the majority of his time on these other things.”

  She took a deep breath. “So do you think he's gone missing because of something that went wrong? With his job?”

  “I think it's quite likely, yeah. And... that's not something I can get involved in.” I swallowed. “Not with my family.”

  She nodded and finally detached her hands from the death-like grip she'd held on the stairs. She brushed at the loose strands of hair that lay against her forehead and took a deep breath.

  “It was eight and a half years ago,” she said. Her voice was soft and I didn't know if she was talking to me or simply reminding herself how it all happened. “Start of the summer. We went down to Florida for a week before he started the job. Did Disneyworld and then went out to the coast.” She nodded, as if reassuring herself. “It was the last vacation we took as a family because then he started working like crazy.”

  I knew I shouldn't be asking questions. I should excuse myself and say goodbye.

  “You said the pay increase was big? That's why he switched?”

  She nodded. “Nearly doubled his salary. With the bonuses he got, it more than doubled it. We weren't hurting before, but once he started there, we were in a whole different tax bracket.”

  “And he liked it okay?”

  She shrugged. “He seemed to
. It was work, but he liked the money. We liked the money, I should say. I don't want to hang that on him. It was very easy to get used to having more money.”

  “So there were no complaints or anything like that?”

  “Nothing more than the usual,” Kathleen answered. “Long hours sometimes, hard days sometimes, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Always been like that?” I asked. “For most of the time he's been there, he's been happy?”

  She nodded, then caught herself, thinking.

  “What?” I asked.

  She thought for another moment. “It was right before Aaron went missing. The week prior. He told me he'd had an argument at work.”

  “About?”

  “Money. What else?” she said, smirking. “There'd been some sort of misunderstanding and he'd been blamed for some money that went missing. I think it got a little tense. I don't remember the entire story because I think then it got lost in the fog when Aaron went missing.”

  “Was it ever resolved?”

  Her eyes focused in concentration, trying to recall. “I vaguely remember Patrick saying something about it weeks later. I think I brought it up, trying to talk about anything other than Aaron. He just said it was fixed or something like that.” She nodded, her eyes still focused, lost in the memory. “I think it was right before we contacted you. I don't think I've ever thought about it again until right now.”

  A lawnmower started up nearby, startling both of us. “He never thought about leaving?”

  “Not to my knowledge, no. He told me he'd been promoted several times, paychecks got bigger. As far as I knew, everything was fine. Bonuses were like clockwork – he always got them. He didn't get them the first couple of years but once he got the first, they became regular.”

  “When was the first one? Do you remember?”

  She nodded. “It's hard to forget. He got the first one right after Aaron disappeared. It's what we used to pay you, if I recall right.”