Whisper of Revenge (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 4)

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Early afternoon, a call came in from Aaron Krieger, Daniel’s officer. “I finally spoke to Mr. Campbell,” he said. “He’s been in Lincoln City since yesterday evening. Says he didn’t have his phone on because he needed time to make some decisions.”

  “You sure he’s actually there?”

  “Yes, sir. I spoke to the front desk clerk at the hotel who checked him in and the manager of the restaurant where he had breakfast. The manager was able to isolate security footage taken from behind the cashier. I emailed him Campbell’s DMV photo, and he’s confident of the identity.”

  “He could have checked in, driven back to Cape Trouble, stowed Hannah then gone back.”

  “I don’t see how. He checked in right about the same time Elias Burton found his house on fire. Plus, the evening clerk saw him park and insists the vehicle stayed where it was all night. His shift ended at seven a.m. Unless someone picked up Mr. Campbell…” He didn’t need to finish.

  The confidence in his young officer’s voice and the persistence he’d shown surprised and impressed Daniel.

  “You did a good job,” he said, hoping he had succeeded in hiding his surprise.

  “Uh…Mr. Campbell says you’ll be hearing from him.”

  “I’m sure I will,” he said dryly. Campbell hadn’t liked him to start with, and during that phone call he’d already expressed how seriously pissed he was at once again being looked at for a major crime.

  Daniel called Elias, who said, “We already know it’s Fletcher.”

  “Confirmation is good.”

  Elias grunted.

  Of course, Fletch would have a story when he surfaced, Daniel felt sure. He probably did get tired of being available twenty-four/seven to anyone who’d seen his name and number on a real estate sign. It made sense for him to leave the damn phone off when he took a short getaway. He was smart enough to be ready to provide proof of where he’d stayed, too. Krieger had gotten lucky with Campbell. The few restaurants that had cameras usually aimed them at the till to keep cashiers and waitresses honest. Desk clerks and managers at inns rarely noticed where a guest parked, let alone paid attention to whether the vehicle stayed put.

  And what if they were wrong? Or what if they found Hannah’s body, and yet were unable to prove Fletch was the killer, whatever they thought they knew?

  Too restless to sit behind a desk, Daniel did some driving around himself as the afternoon dragged on. After stopping in front of a house for sale by Fletcher Realty, he had a thought.

  He called his Realtor contact. “What if a house has been recently listed? Does it appear on the multiple listing service immediately?”

  She was quiet for a minute. “Usually within about twenty-four hours. I like to confirm all the information before I put it out there. If I have any doubts, I might return to a property to measure square footage, for example. If the owners didn’t have children and aren’t sure, I need to be sure what school district the home is in. Real estate taxes, type of roof and heating, exact dimensions of the lot… The list is long, and I don’t like to make mistakes.”

  “So you might have signed the papers to list a property for sale but not have entered it in the multiple listing service or put up a sign.”

  “Usually the sign goes up immediately, especially if the homeowner is there in person. It gives them confidence you’re doing the job.”

  “Lock box?”

  “At the same time.” She hesitated, smart enough to guess where he was going with this. “An agent could make an excuse. Have to make copies of the key. Or he could go back later and remove the lock box. If the owner has already moved out, they’ll likely be satisfied that the sign is up and not think about how much else is involved. And why would they? They know we don’t make a penny until we sell the house. Dawdling is not to our benefit.”

  “Unless you have some use for the house.”

  Sounding unhappy, she said, “Unless.”

  Without a warrant, he wouldn’t be able to comb through records on recent listings at Fletcher Realty. Their certainty about the identity of the kidnapper was based on logic and gut feelings. Without tangible evidence, no judge would sign that warrant. Daniel grimaced. Particularly when the suspect in question was a prominent local businessman.

  But he put out the word. Had anyone noticed a real estate sign in front of a home that was not on his – or her – list to check? He was embarrassed to have to mentally add the her. Cape Trouble P.D. had yet to hire a woman officer in its history. Even the sheriff’s department only had three or four.

  His phone rang. Elias again. Daniel pulled over. “Find anything?”

  “No,” the artist said tersely. “You?”

  He shared his own idea about a vacant house that might not show up in multiple listing services records.

  “If there’s no sign, either…”

  It could be any house in the county. Yes, that had occurred to Daniel.

  Elias muttered something Daniel didn’t entirely catch, but assumed was obscene. “Tonight,” he said then. “Whatever he intends, it’ll be after dark this evening.”

  “I agree. No benefit to him in delay. If he still thinks he can pop up, unsuspected, he has to move soon.”

  “He hasn’t asked for ransom.”

  “He can’t think her ex-husband would pay it,” Daniel said.

  “No, but he might decide I should.”

  “Unless Hannah has told him, he doesn’t know you paid the first time around.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to soak me either way.”

  “Is that what you think will happen?” Daniel asked.

  After a pause, Elias said, “No. He got the money. Now he wants me to suffer. He wants to take someone important away from me. If he can do it in a way that will make me look bad, that’s what he’ll go for.”

  “Maybe you should join me, so he can’t set you up.”

  Elias hesitated again. “Maybe. But not yet. Sunset is hours away. I still have some ideas.”

  Gaze on the dashboard clock, Daniel started to set his phone down, but changed his mind. Apprehension felt like a noxious gas that made it hard to draw a full breath. He dialed Sophie’s number, needing to hear her voice.

  *****

  The door sprang open without any warning sounds. Fletch stepped inside, smiling. “Headache?”

  Hannah only stared at him. The smile was just…bizarre. He looked so much like he had when he was showing her property.

  If she’d been sitting up, she might have tried rushing him. As it was, by the time she scrambled off the mattress that lay on the floor, he’d have had plenty of time to step out and close and lock the door again.

  A chance would come. She had to believe that.

  His smile died. “Not your usual warm and lying self, are you?”

  The venomous tone infuriated her. “When did I ever lie to you?”

  “When you were ready to date, I’d be the first to know. Or don’t you remember?”

  “I was joking! Your invitations all sounded so…casual. As if the idea of us having lunch together had just popped into your head. I thought you were, I don’t know, networking.”

  “Even after you accepted my gifts?”

  “I didn’t know who was giving them to me!”

  “Another lie,” he snapped. “On top of telling me you weren’t ready to date.”

  “It wasn’t a lie!” Her head gave a warning throb. “I had no intentions of getting involved with anyone.”

  “And yet, the minute Burton asked, you didn’t hesitate.”

  What could she say? I never in a million years imagined he’d ask? He is the one man I couldn’t refuse? Not smart.

  “Do you know how much I hate him?” His eyes bored into hers. “Or for how long I’ve hated him?”

  Hannah didn’t dare shake her head. “No,” she whispered.

  “For thirty years. Even when we were children, he was always the golden boy, I was the sidekick. People thought I was lucky to be his friend. W
ith him walking on water, nobody would have noticed if I’d been drowning right behind him!”

  Wow. So much for a grudge dating from something that happened in high school.

  “I thought—”

  His eyes narrowed. She had considered him a handsome man, but now, with his snarling lips and bitter expression, he was frightening. This was not the congenial real estate agent she’d known.

  “You thought what?”

  “That you were good friends. Didn’t you live with him and his mom for a while?”

  “Her idea. Not his. He didn’t want me. His mother…she’s kind. She thought of me as another son. She still does. Otherwise—” He stopped.

  “You’d have killed her, too.” He truly was a monster, she thought.

  “Of course,” Fletch said, as if that was only reasonable. “Then he’d have been completely alone.”

  Hannah shuddered, sorry she had when he smiled with pleasure that made her skin crawl.

  “I wonder what kind of lover you’d be?” His gaze crawled over her. “Does he know?”

  She wouldn’t answer. Couldn’t. But her silence was an answer. His expression became even uglier.

  “When? The nights he spent at your house? Or the one you spent so cozily at his?”

  Hannah kept her mouth clamped shut.

  “He enjoyed you and his house both for the last time that night.” He shook his head. “You showed very poor judgement, Hannah.”

  She had to say something. “Nobody can…can love to order.”

  “Love?” His lips curled. “You aren’t stupid enough to think he loves you, are you?”

  Love? It was awfully soon, but despite his fears, Elias had reached out in a way he hadn’t in years. Because of her smile. He wanted to paint her. And look at everything he had done for her.

  “If he doesn’t,” she said steadily, buoyed by a sudden faith, “hurting me doesn’t accomplish much, does it?”

  He shrugged. “You were mine. He likes taking things away from me.”

  “But he didn’t know—” Seeing his expression, Hannah gave up. Reasoning with this man was useless. Fear turned to shards of ice in her bloodstream. “How long will you keep me here?”

  He smiled, once again the jovial Realtor who had been so helpful. “You might want to get some sleep. We’ll be out late tonight.” The door closed behind him before she could shape another question. This time she heard a metallic snap. Padlock?

  *****

  Asleep at last. Elias looked down at the two boys tucked into the same twin bed, Ian closest to him. In the thin band of light from the hall, he could see the anxiety still on that freckled face. Ian was bound to have nightmares. Elias hoped he didn’t wake the family every hour.

  He drew the covers higher, tucked them over both boys’ shoulders, even if it was a warm night, then slipped out of the room, careful to leave the door open the promised six inches.

  However quietly he’d moved, Deputy Vincent stepped out of the living room to meet him.

  “Asleep?”

  “Finally.” The Vincents had summoned Elias in desperation. Ian wanted Elias. If he couldn’t have his mommy, only Elias would do. Now Elias followed John Vincent into the dimly lit living room. “I’m betting he has nightmares.”

  “You want to stay the night?”

  “No.” Elias knew with terrifying certainty that Hannah’s time was limited. Once the sun went down, that certainty had grown until the itch between his shoulder blades became painful. “Before I go, can we turn on the ten o’clock news?” he asked.

  Vincent picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. “It’ll be on any minute.”

  His wife sat curled at one end of the sofa, her tension palpable. “Wouldn’t Chief Colburn have called if he knew anything?”

  “Yes.” Elias rolled his shoulders in an effort to ease the pressure. “I want to see what information he decided to release.” The deputy sat down beside his wife, but Elias remained on his feet through the commercials leading into the local late news. He stiffened when the anchor appeared, expression grave, talking about the shocking events of the night before when a courageous mother had freed her child from a kidnapper, only to be abducted herself.

  “Chief Daniel Colburn of the Cape Trouble Police Department spoke about the investigation.”

  The camera switched to Daniel behind a podium, in uniform and looking very official but exhausted.

  “At this point, we do not believe Ms. Moss was abducted for ransom. We do have a person of interest.”

  Reporters yelled questions.

  He shook his head. “I can’t yet share a name. Tonight, we’re asking for help from viewers. We’re attempting to find a house where we know five-year-old Ian Cline was held captive for several days. The house may be for sale, but probably has not yet appeared in the multiple listing service or in real estate advertisements. We aren’t certain, but it may have a ‘For Sale’ sign in front. What we know is that this is an old home with a basement that has at least some high windows. We also know it’s next door to a house painted a yellowish brown. A fence needing repair or replacement stands between those two houses. The lawn may be shaggy, certainly to the side of the house.” He looked into the camera. “If this sounds familiar to you, please call.” He gave a number that then scrolled across the screen. With a brief nod, Daniel stepped back.

  Elias didn’t listen to the exchange between reporter and anchor. Sharing the information Daniel had was risky – but everyone searching for Hannah knew she might not be alive by morning. They’d decided not to take a chance of Fletch watching the five o’clock news and panicking. But they’d run out of places to look, and he’d be moving her soon.

  “Thank you for taking care of Ian,” he said to the Vincents. “I wish I could be here for him, but finding his mother has to come first.”

  Walker’s mother jumped to her feet and came to him. “Of course it does! Ian will understand.” She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Hannah is a good friend and a loving mother.” Her shaky smile wasn’t very successful. “I’ll be praying for her.”

  “Thanks.” He met the deputy’s gaze and nodded.

  Walking out to his Land Rover, Elias looked up at stars appearing between scudding clouds. He searched the sky until he glimpsed the moon, still a sliver, before it, too, went behind a cloud. Tonight was even darker than last night. Not a superstitious man, he still found himself thinking of the old saying that the witching hour is nigh. Scowling, he climbed in and started the engine, then tried to clear his mind. The tide would reach its highest point in about an hour and a half. Knowing Fletch…where would he take her?

  His phone rang, jolting his heart into another rhythm. “Daniel?”

  “We had an immediate caller. Sounds like we have our house. The SWAT team is setting up. All we’re waiting on is the warrant.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Jasper Beach. You can’t participate, but if you want to be there…”

  Instinct guiding him, Elias shook his head even as he said, “No. I have some ideas in case he’s already moved her.”

  “I’ll call the minute I know anything.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  From behind his squad car, Daniel watched the black-clad SWAT members silently move into positions surrounding the house, one of the grand old ladies that had once formed the community of Jasper Beach, before the low-rent cottages gathered like ants. Street lighting in this small community on the other side of the point from Cape Trouble was limited. Even in the dark, however, he could see how much work this tall Victorian house needed.

  Two cops in full tactical gear eased onto the porch, stopping with one to each side of the front door. Their lieutenant must have given them the go-ahead, because one hammered hard, waiting only a moment before yelling, “Police! We’re coming in!” Then he and his partner used a ram to slam the door open.

  They ran inside, followed by others. Some dark-suited SWAT members crouched by garage level windows, semi-
automatic weapons aimed at the glass.

  From inside came repeated shouts of “Police! Hands in the air!” The thunder of booted feet on stairs.

  Not two minutes later, one of the SWAT guys came out the front door and, looking straight at Daniel, shook his head.

  *****

  An incoming surge reached Hannah’s knees. She stopped in an effort to keep to her feet. Having her hands cuffed behind her back was not only painful and awkward, it changed her center of balance. Her captor yanked the rope tied around her waist and she toppled forward into the salt water, unable to break her fall.

  Panic swept her as she choked on salt water.

  A hand grabbed her under her arm and roughly hauled her up. “Your fault,” he said.

  Spitting water and infuriated, she threw herself at him, trying to knock him down, but the wave had receded and he dodged her.

  “Bitch!”

  Gagged, she couldn’t talk back…or scream. She’d tried.

  What if she just…sat down? Was he strong enough to carry her wherever he was so determined she should go?

  If only it weren’t so dark. Hannah knew they’d left Jasper Beach and were wading toward the rocky finger that thrust out from the point below the lighthouse. The basalt shelf, underwater at high tide, was treacherous, which was why the buoy anchored just beyond the last rock blinked its warning outward to boaters. The flickers of light from the shore side still oriented her.

  Had he forced that other woman to her death the same way? If so, this time, Fletch wasn’t bothering with props. No artist’s easel, no pretense of this being an accident. Even if she hadn’t been kidnapped, her wrists must be raw, evidence of her struggles with the handcuffs.

  She sagged to her knees, then plopped to her butt.

  He yelled his rage just as a wave surged in, the cold water almost breast deep, lifting her.

  Staring her defiance, she could barely make him out. He waited for the wave to retreat before walking to her side. Even over the roar of the surf, Hannah heard a small sound. Snick. He pressed the barrel of his pistol to her temple.