She made a face. “True.”
“Clint may have a selfish, narcissistic approach to life,” Mary said, “but he isn’t a fool.”
“Still, there must be a way. We tracked someone else to a resort place before,” Pen said. “With a photo of him and a good story, I can start working on it.”
Kaycie stepped over to the shelves beside the fireplace, to a dozen framed vacation shots of the couple. She gathered the frames in a messy stack and handed them over to Pen. “Take whatever you want. I don’t think I can look at these anymore.”
Amber turned to Kaycie. “Do you have a file of paperwork that comes with new things you buy?”
Everyone turned and stared. Where had that question come from?
“Clint’s computer—there would have been some papers that came with it. I have an idea.”
Kaycie gave a huge shrug but went into the kitchen where a small desk sat tucked into one corner. While she poked through a drawer, Pen suddenly remembered something.
“Clint’s expired passport—we took it from the safe at his office. At the time, I was thinking of it more as a memento for Kaycie. But it’s a little book that could be full of clues.”
Pen pulled the booklet from her purse.
Gracie’s eyes sparkled. “This could be huge—we’ll know everywhere he traveled. If we see repeated trips, it’s a pretty good idea where he liked the best.”
Mary looked skeptical. “He got that passport ages ago when we were invited to a wedding in England. After that, we never traveled.”
Pen could tell Mary was trying not to turn the comment into a dig toward Kaycie, but the fact was Clint had treated wife two to a lot more perks than Mary ever received. She tucked the passport away.
“I can do this later. It will be more efficient to compile a list and report back.”
Mary gave a weak smile. “It’s okay, Pen. Really. I’m working on putting old hurts aside. Some days are easier than others.”
“You’re sure?” Pen took the passport out again, along with a small notepad she always had with her. One never knew when an idea for a story would pop into one’s head.
While she paged through the passport and wrote dates and countries, Sandy looked at the stack of photos Kaycie had left on the coffee table. She set two aside.
Meanwhile, Kaycie and Amber returned from the kitchen. Amber seemed satisfied with the few sheets of paper she clutched in her hand. Kaycie approved Sandy’s choice of photos and removed them from the frames for her.
“It seems the islands are hands-down favorites here,” Pen said, closing the passport and looking at her handwritten list. “Although, as Mary pointed out, Clint was hardly a frequent world traveler. In the ten years he held this passport, we have the one trip to England, Barbados twice, Grand Cayman twice.”
“He renewed last summer because this one was about to expire and he felt sure he had the China deal wrapped up,” Kaycie said.
“Based on what you’ve said about Barbados, I’ll start there,” Pen told them. “Amber, you found a Cayman connection before, didn’t you, so perhaps you could pursue it a bit further?”
Amber held up the papers she’d borrowed from Kaycie but didn’t elaborate on her plans.
“We’ll get out of your way,” Pen told Kaycie, her way of letting the rest of the ladies know they should continue the investigation on their own.
It didn’t matter that Kaycie’s reaction to their startling news today seemed as if she’d turned on Clint. Pen had reservations—when faced with choosing a side, she could easily go right back to him. The Heist Ladies walked out of the Holbrook condo, not saying much until they reached their cars in the parking lot.
“All right, then,” Pen said. “I am on a mission to find out if Clint is staying at a nice resort on Barbados or Grand Cayman.”
“I’ll go back and check out the banks on Cayman where we discovered he’d moved money before,” said Amber. “And, with the identification number of his computer, I’ll see what I can do about locating it.”
Sandy offered any assistance she could do from the bank, if Amber would give her a task. Gracie had to pick up a kid at school but said the group could meet at her house next time. She would bake cookies.
Mary stood beside Sandy’s car. “Me? I’m going back to the gym, where I intend to whale away at a punching bag for a good, long time.”
Chapter 59
Penelope walked the length of her terrace, breathing in the sweet scent of the winter petunias she’d planted yesterday, waiting for her international call to connect.
“Hotel Barbadian. Front desk,” the pleasantly accented voice said.
“Yes, hello. I hope you can assist me,” she said, stepping back inside and taking a seat at her desk. “I’m with the Cayman Islander Bed and Breakfast, and we’ve run up against a problem pertaining to a guest’s payment. As he told us his next stop is Barbados, I wonder if you can check and tell me if he’s currently registered?” It was the same line she’d now used with six places, and although she’d received no positive responses, she did notice she was getting quite good at delivering the story.
“I can check that for you, ma’am. What is the guest’s name?”
“Unfortunately, that is the problem. He checked in and paid with a credit card that was not his own. By the time we ran the charges and discovered the discrepancy he had already left, so I do not know his real name.”
She knew it sounded flimsy. Any of the larger hotels would have required a passport at check-in and most would have processed at least one or two nights’ stay before the guest ever entered his room. By posing as an owner of a small B&B she hoped the desk clerk would think she was stupid, not that she was lying.
“I don’t know how I can—”
“I have a photo. We host an evening happy hour here and my husband snapped a picture in which this questionable guest appears. If I may email it to you, perhaps you will recognize the man and can tell me what name he used if he stayed with you.”
She heard the sound of impatience and pictured the thought process. Why should I take the time to go through this when you’re the one who messed up?
“We want to offer a reward, provided the information we receive leads us to collect. The man ran up a sizeable bill with us.”
“Send me the photo,” said the clerk. Implicit in her tone was the unsaid, I doubt it will come to anything but since there’s a reward …
Pen jotted the email address she was given and entered it into the address line of a pre-copied email she’d already set up. Once it was sent, she dialed another hotel on her list. At some point she should probably get on with other things and wait to see if one of these seven golf resorts responded. She’d always hated repetitive phone calls, ever since she worked for a telemarketer in her early twenties. It had taken her only two days to know this was not the career for her.
Repeating the spiel, receiving the same answers, she sent email number eight. She drummed her fingers on the desk, stalling before making another call. The phone rang before she talked herself into continuing.
“Pen, I got your message. Sorry I was out most of the day.” It was Benton Case.
“Not to worry. Did you remember to give your friend a heads-up that I might be calling?”
“Dave Fresnell? Sure did. He assured me he would brief a few others in the office, in case he’s not the one you actually get in touch with. It turns out the U.S. Attorney’s office has had Clint Holbrook on their radar, as well.”
“Really?”
“Dave got a call from Cooper Life and Casualty. Although the insurance company has decided to deny the claim on Mr. Holbrook’s life policy, they turned over the fake death certificate and suggested there was probably some financial malfeasance involved. Odds are good the IRS will jump into the act pretty soon, too.”
“Oh, my. This is beginning to get fairly complicated, isn’t it?”
“Welcome to the world of the law, Pen.”
They exchanged b
its of personal news and made plans to have dinner together later in the week. When Pen turned back toward her computer screen she noticed an email reply from one of the hotels on Barbados.
Expecting another negative response, she opened it and scanned the words, prepared to delete it. When the words, Yes, this man stayed here, jumped out at her, she reread carefully. This was it—she felt she was closing in on their quarry.
The photo you sent matches a guest who stayed with us for a week. Unfortunately, he has checked out two days ago. The name on his passport and credit card was Mack Hudson. We hope this information helps in your search.
Mack Hudson. Hm. Pen remembered the insurance investigator saying it was smart for someone wanting to change identity to use a first name the same or similar to their own. McClintock had simply become Mack. Hudson was a two-syllable name beginning with H. Clint retained the same initials this way. She wondered how long he had practiced responding to the new name, so it would come as second nature. It may have been no effort at all—Mary had mentioned Clint’s friends of his youth calling him Mack.
She typed a reply to Joan at the Coral Reef Hotel, informing her the reward would be coming her way if the information resulted in capturing the man.
It was dark outside now, too late to call Dave Fresnell at his office, but it would be fun to share her success with the Heist Ladies. She typed a quick email and copied it to all of them.
Keep it quiet, she said in the message. Best we don’t mention it to Kaycie or anyone outside our group. I only wish I could give Mr. Fresnell a current location for Clint. It would be the icing on the cake.
Within five minutes she had a response from Amber. Hang tight. We may have icing for that cake very soon.
Chapter 60
The technical help guy came on the line right after Amber sent her note about icing the cake.
“Thank you for holding, how may I help you?” The accent was foreign but Amber had no trouble understanding the guy who had the voice of a fourteen-year-old and said his name was Michael.
“My name is Kaycie Holbrook and we need help locating my husband’s computer. He misplaced it sometime during a trip he took and now we can’t find it anywhere. Men—I swear, always losing things. Is there some way you can send out a signal and see where it is?”
She knew perfectly well there was a way, but it would take the specialized software of the manufacturer and the ability to log into their system. She gave the model and serial number from the registration form Kaycie had given her this afternoon.
He asked a couple of questions, supposedly for security purposes, nothing Amber couldn’t handle from the basics she knew about the Holbrooks.
“Okay, let’s see here …”
In the background she could hear computer keys being tapped fast and furiously, with an occasional murmured comment. While he typed Clint’s information, Amber ran a reverse connection and linked to the tech rep’s computer.
“He went to China, hm?” Michael said.
“Yes, that’s right. Wow, you’re really good at your job.” She put enough gaga in her voice to puff his ego a little. “Is that where the computer is now, cause he was pretty sure he had it with him after that.”
“I’m checking the data calendar right now. It can only register the location if the machine is turned on and using an internet connection.”
More typing, a few mmms.
“Okay, two days after China I see a connection in Manila, Philippines. He logged on there. Wouldn’t he remember that? Are you sure he knows you’re asking about this? You’re not a jealous wife spying on a cheating husband, are you?”
Amber laughed. “You got me.”
Michael laughed along with her. “What the heck—it’s not my job to worry about that.”
By now, Amber had a link and was downloading the program she would need.
“So, after the Philippines does it show him going somewhere else?”
“There’s a couple logins in Bangkok, Thailand.” More typing. “Let’s see … a few days after that there’s an airport public server in Dubai, and after that several days in Bridgetown, Barbados. Your man really gets around.”
The stopovers in Thailand and Dubai were interesting. Amber already knew about the other.
“Yes, he does. He told me about Barbados. The rat, going to a beautiful island without me. Where did he go after that?”
“I’ve got a login at JFK airport in New York. Looks like he’s making his way back home.”
They shared a brief chuckle over that, but Amber’s mind was racing. Clint had managed to use his new fake passport—assuming he got it in Manila—in at least three other countries. So far. It must be a convincing forgery. She wondered what country supposedly issued it. Clint was far too Caucasian to convince anyone he came from the Philippines. She would have to run the question past the Ladies.
Michael spoke again. “Yesterday, the computer was used in Albuquerque, New Mexico.”
“Anything today?” The program had finished downloading to Amber’s computer and she only needed one more thing.
“Not yet,” he said. “Maybe he’s on another airplane.”
If so, Clint’s next stop could be Phoenix. She stopped herself. It could be anywhere. His making a stop in a neighboring state might have nothing to do with his ultimate goal. She kept Michael on the line long enough to be certain her own computer was now mirroring his, tracking Clint’s computer’s moves.
She thanked the technician for his help. Heh-heh, she thought. I’ll get you now, Clint Holbrook.
Chapter 61
“Gracie—I’ve got exciting news.” In the background Amber could hear heavy-beat dance music. “Where are you?”
“The gym—with Mary—self-defense—” Gracie paused a moment to catch her breath. “Sorry. Mary and I are doing a little self-defense practice.” A couple of panting breaths. “Oh, the music? There’s a Zumba class in the next room.”
The background sound became slightly muted. Someone must have closed a door.
“I’ve got good news,” Amber said. “Did you catch that part?”
“Yeah. News.”
“I have a pretty good idea where Clint is.”
“Clint? That’s great. Can we catch him?”
Mary came on the call. “Can we get the money?”
“I put my phone on speaker,” Gracie said. “So, what’s up?”
“Well, it’s been kind of like watching a TV series, one where a few hours go by between episodes.”
“We were almost finished here at the gym anyway,” Mary said. “Should we come to your place?”
“Yeah, fine with me.”
When they arrived an hour later, Amber led them to her computer. “It’s not exactly like the movies, where there’s a blinking red dot on a map and there just happen to be cameras along the way so the followers know exactly where their quarry is the whole way. But I’ve got the next best thing.”
She picked up a notebook where she’d written each time she got a ping on Clint’s movement. “I figured out that he has a smartphone with email and messaging. Once I was able to get into his computer, with the help of a sweet guy at Dell, I linked the email coming to the computer with the email app on his phone. The dummy has his location finder turned on, on the phone, so every time he uses it I’m able to tell pretty closely where he is.”
She filled them in on Clint’s travels from Manila to Albuquerque. “My guess is, he’s now in a car. Maybe he got worried about being on planes so much, having to present ID all along the way.”
“You have to present ID to rent a car,” Gracie said.
“True. So maybe he had a buddy in Albuquerque who loaned him one?”
They both looked toward Mary, who shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone offhand, but obviously Clint’s life has taken a lot of turns since I was around.”
“Anyway …” Amber read from the list. “He sent a text message this morning from Gallup.”
“Can you te
ll who it went to?”
“Not without a whole lot more digging. All I know from this program is the basic functions of the phone. So, that time it was a text. And he received a reply awhile later. He must have been near the New Mexico-Arizona state line, somewhere along Interstate 40.”
“He’s heading our way.” Gracie’s eyes lit up.
“Possibly. I-40 stays to the north of us, so he could go on through and end up in California.” She set down the notes. “That was about three hours ago. He could be near Flagstaff by now.”
“How will we know?”
Amber met Mary’s eyes. “Patience. The next time he uses the phone, I’ll get another ping.”
“He’ll stop somewhere for lunch,” Mary said. “The man never missed a meal in his life.”
Amber heard the signal from her computer and dropped into her chair. A white box rimmed in red had appeared on her screen. A series of numbers strung across the box, and she highlighted them with her cursor and copied them.
“Latitude and longitude,” she said.
In another window she already had a program running. She copied the coordinates into a space and hit a key. A map came up on screen.
“He’s west of Flag already. I think there’s a truck stop out there. Maybe he’s stopped for gas and some food. Anyway …” back to the original white box “… he’s in touch with someone.”
“Can you tell where he’s heading?” Gracie asked.
“Not for sure. He could go north at Williams, but the only thing out there is Indian land and the Grand Canyon.”
“A person could hide in a zillion places out there,” Gracie said.
“Except a white guy without a Park Service job will stand out like a beacon. Wouldn’t he be better off to lose himself in a big city?” Mary said.
“I wish we could find out what he’s saying in those texts,” Amber said. “At the moment he’s close to Williams, but it’s an easy turn here or there to head back to Phoenix or go west to Las Vegas or even California.”
The Trophy Wife Exchange Page 23
