Bounty Hunter Ransom

by Kara Lennox

  “Summer looks like she’s enjoying this,” Beau commented. The flamboyant young woman wore a tight black dress, too low-cut and too short for a funeral. Greg had his arm around her as if to comfort her. As they found two chairs toward the front, Summer seemed to break down weeping. Greg offered her his handkerchief.

  “I must ask Summer what brand of eye makeup she uses,” Aubrey said dryly. “It doesn’t smear at all.”

  Greg dabbed at his own dry eyes before pocketing the hanky.

  “Oh, nice touch,” Beau said. “Quite the thespians, that pair.”

  “Have you found out anything about them?” Aubrey asked.

  “Craig went to the guys in Fraud. They already had a bead on Holmes. In fact, they’d interviewed Patti.”

  “Really?” This seemed like a promising lead.

  “According to the detective on the case, Patti didn’t tell them anything. He seemed to think she really didn’t know much.”

  “Or she was protecting her lover,” Aubrey said. “Patti was quite the actress herself. Hey, maybe he thought she was going to turn on him,” Aubrey whispered excitedly. “If he tried to end the affair, for example. Or, more likely, if she was blackmailing him. She did need money, after all. Does he have an alibi for Monday afternoon?”

  “He and Summer alibi’d each other.”

  “For what that’s worth. Do you know if Lyle considers either of them suspects? He’s not exactly forthcoming with me.”

  “Craig says Palmer is finally focused on Cory. The manhunt has gotten pretty intensive.”

  “It’s about time. Cory is completely crazy.” Aubrey shivered as she remembered the maniacal look in Cory’s eyes as he’d wielded the whip, really enjoying her pain. But there’d been a sense of desperation about him, too. He’d apparently thought Aubrey was much closer to incriminating him than she was.

  A small cadre of cops arrived next in an unmarked sedan, so bland it almost screamed “cop car.” Lyle was in the lead. The others—one woman in plain clothes, and two uniforms—Aubrey didn’t recognize.

  She hoped Lyle wouldn’t come forward to offer his condolences. She just wasn’t feeling charitable toward him right now.

  “Oh, my God, will you look at that.”

  Aubrey looked where Beau nodded. She saw a man in an ill-fitting suit climbing off a motorcycle. It took her several heartbeats to recognize the newcomer as Charlie Soffit. In addition to the new clothes, he’d gotten a haircut and a shave. And he looked dead sober.

  “You know, he cleans up pretty nice,” Aubrey said. “He’s almost handsome.”

  Charlie didn’t make his way to the front, but instead hung back behind the other mourners, near the trunk of a tree, almost as if he didn’t want to be noticed. His face was a mask of sorrow, his eyes a bit puffy. Unlike Greg’s and Summer’s crocodile tears, Charlie’s looked real.

  Aubrey pointed out a few other people—innocuous neighbors, a couple of Patti’s school friends she probably hadn’t seen in years, the elderly pediatrician who’d treated all the Schuyler and Clarendon kids when they’d been growing up.

  A minister stood up before the assemblage, and the hushed conversations ceased. “It’s difficult to know what to say at any funeral,” he began, “but doubly difficult when the deceased is so young….”

  He droned on, but Aubrey had a hard time paying attention. She found herself listening to a whispered conversation in the row behind her, where the law firm partners were sitting. She could only catch a few words here and there, but they were enough to disturb her.

  “…acting strangely before his sister…”

  “…not fooling anyone…”

  “How much do you suppose he paid for…”

  “I can’t afford a Porsche.”

  “…talk to Wayne—today.”

  “…tired of his runaround…”

  “…talked to the accountant. No way to explain…”

  Aubrey nudged Beau in the ribs. “Can you hear that?” she whispered in his ear, trying not to think about how good he smelled. She’d never known him to wear aftershave before.

  “Hear what?”

  “What those guys behind us are talking about?”

  He shook his head.

  Aubrey strained her ears to hear more. She’d always had good hearing, probably because she hadn’t indulged in the loud rock music most of her friends had favored.

  “Now is not the time.” That was definitely Jim’s voice.

  “If we wait, it might be too late.”

  “It might just finish the old guy off.”

  Aubrey felt a note of alarm. They were talking about Wayne. They had some upsetting news to give him, and it concerned David—and money.

  She thought about what Wayne had said the other day regarding David: He always did have a strange attitude about money. It’s never been something that worried him, anyway.

  Well, maybe David didn’t worry about money, but the partners sounded almost frantic. Maybe they didn’t want David as a partner. That would certainly have an impact on David’s finances, and it would greatly upset Wayne.

  She didn’t want to think about that now, though. She was supposed to be mourning for Patti—and watching the other mourners for suspicious behavior.

  “Look over there,” Beau whispered. “To the right.”

  A couple of real strange characters had sidled up, a young man and woman, wearing lots of leather, studs and chains. Their costumes made Summer look appropriate for tea with the queen.

  “People she knew from Kink,” Aubrey said, waving away a mosquito. Darn perfume. “I think the woman is a waitress there. Let’s talk to them after the service.”

  “They’ll be gone after the service,” Beau said, slipping out of his chair.

  The minister’s gaze flickered toward Beau, but his words of comfort never faltered. The rather generic eulogy was winding to an end, and people were growing restless.

  Aubrey heard a cell phone. How irritating, she thought. Then she realized it was David’s phone. She was going to give him hell later for this. He answered it as everyone stood up. By prearrangement, the family was supposed to throw a little bit of dirt on the casket as it was lowered into the ground. She hated this tradition. She didn’t want to focus on Patti being laid to rest in the cold ground.

  Aubrey led the way out of the front row of chairs. She walked up to stand by the grave as the pallbearers, assisted by a couple of guys from the cemetery, lowered the casket into the grave.

  But where was David? He was one of the pallbearers. Aubrey looked around and finally spotted her cousin walking away from the crowd, still talking on his cell phone.

  What? What phone call could be more important than his own sister’s last moments above ground?

  Chapter Twelve

  Beau stood by the massive trunk of an oak tree, watching David’s retreat. He caught Aubrey’s eye and motioned for her to join him.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered to her mother.

  “What? Aubrey…”

  But she didn’t have time to explain. David’s behavior was damned odd, and she had a strong feeling that whatever was going on with him, she and Beau needed to know.

  “What’s he doing?” Beau demanded.

  “I don’t know. He got a call on his cell and he took off.”

  He was heading for the limousine.

  Beau and Aubrey took out after him at a brisk walk. “David,” she called out. “Wait!”

  “I’ll be right back,” David called over his shoulder.

  “The hell,” Beau muttered, breaking into a run, leaving Aubrey to catch up. But David had too much of a lead on him. He hopped into the limousine’s driver’s seat, then drove off like a shot. The uniformed driver, who’d been loitering nearby smoking a cigarette, could do nothing but stare in disbelief.

  “I have to follow him,” Beau said to Aubrey. “You have to come with me. I’m not leaving you here without protection.”

  She wouldn’t have let hi
m leave without her, anyway. She was dying of curiosity. What was David up to? Was he trying to avoid a confrontation with the partners? Did he want to be absent when the partners told Wayne whatever the big secret was?

  She and Beau jumped into Beau’s Mustang, but he didn’t take off right away. He let the limo get a good head start.

  “He’s getting away!” Aubrey cried.

  “No, he’s not. I just don’t want him to know I’m following. Get out your phone. Call First Strike. See if anyone’s there.” He rattled off the number, but he had to repeat it because her fingers were shaking.

  Lori Bettencourt answered. Aubrey gave the phone to Beau. “Lori. Is anyone there? I need help with a tail.” He paused, then continued. “Rex. There’s a black limousine headed south on—yes, that’s right, a limo. He’s turning west on Briar, near—hell, I don’t know.”

  “Augustine,” Aubrey provided.

  “Okay, on channel 30.” He hung up the phone and turned on his CB.

  “I didn’t know anyone still used those,” Aubrey said.

  “Us and the truckers. I hate cell phones. They cut out at the worst moments.”

  “Who’s Rex?” Aubrey asked.

  “Rex Bettencourt. Lori’s big brother. Ex–Special Forces. Good guy to have on your side. Listen, what were those men behind us talking about?”

  “Oh. Something about David and mishandling of funds or something. They weren’t happy with him, at any rate. Maybe it had something to do with how he raised the cash for the ransom. I couldn’t get the whole story. But Wayne gave David carte blanche to do whatever it took to raise a million dollars.”

  “I hope that’s all it is.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The cops did an investigation into David’s background—yours and Wayne’s, too.”

  “What?”

  “It’s purely routine. To rule all of you out as suspects. They didn’t find anything criminal, but they did discover that David had an obscene amount of debt.”

  Further discussion of David’s finances was cut short when a man’s voice came over the radio. “I’m here. What’s your twenty?”

  Beau grabbed the mike. “I’m crossing Augustine now. The limo is a couple of blocks ahead of me. We’ve got a few cars between us now.”

  “I’ll be there in about three minutes.”

  “From First Strike?” Aubrey asked, alarmed. The agency was six or seven miles away.

  “Don’t underestimate Rex Bettencourt’s driving. He makes me look like a little old lady. Keep an eye out for him. He’s in a black Bronco.” Then he spoke into the mike again. “Looks like our friend is getting on the freeway, going…north.”

  “I got a visual,” Rex said. “Nice wheels. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out. I’ll try to get ahead of him.”

  Beau treated Aubrey to a hair-raising tour of back streets and farm-to-market roads that weren’t designed for such speed. She double-checked her seat belt, then scrunched her eyes closed. “I’m getting on at FM 1322,” Beau told Rex.

  “You should be a good fifty yards ahead of us. I’ll peel off.”

  Sure enough, Aubrey saw the limo in their rearview mirror. A black Bronco, a few car lengths behind it, took an exit. Beau slowed to sixty and cruised in the right lane, a comfortable distance ahead of the limo.

  “He’s signaling,” Aubrey said.

  Beau grabbed the radio. “He’s getting off at the Faircroft exit.”

  Aubrey felt sick to her stomach. “The rest stop, where they found Patti…”

  “Yeah, it’s right around here. I had a look at it yesterday.” Beau took the next exit and got in the U-turn lane. “It winds back well away from the access road, and it’s overgrown with vegetation. A good place to commit a crime.”

  “Oh, Beau, what if David is heading right into a trap? I can’t help but think he wouldn’t leave Patti’s funeral like this unless it was a matter of life and death.” She recalled his show of nerves in the limo earlier. “He had a briefcase with him,” she suddenly remembered. “Oh, you don’t think—”

  Beau cursed softly. “He’s paying a ransom. No doubt in my mind. Someone told him not to involve the cops, and he didn’t.”

  “Then he really might be in danger. Whoever it is might not even have Sara.”

  Beau got on the radio. “Proceed with extreme caution. Our subject is meeting with someone who might be very dangerous.”

  “10-4.”

  “Should I call 911?” Aubrey asked.

  “Cops won’t get here in time. Anyway, a big show of sirens might scare this guy off.”

  “Better that than having him hurt David.”

  “Trust me, David is more likely to get hurt if they think he led the cops to them. Let me do this my way, okay?”

  Aubrey gulped. “Okay.” Please, she prayed, don’t let this have anything to do with the reward. If Beau didn’t want to involve the cops because he wanted to make sure he got the reward, she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

  She’d only recently come to believe that Beau might be telling the truth about how and why he shot Gavin. And as she’d allowed that possibility to creep into her consciousness, all her carefully constructed, rigorously guarded animosity toward Beau was evaporating like rain on a hot Texas day.

  He’d wiggled his way into her heart.

  No, it was more than that. She was stunned to realize she’d fallen in love with the guy. Not the puppy love or hero worship of her past, but the deep, enduring kind of love that came only when she could accept him, all of him, the good and the bad. And if the bad included a sinister motive for his current behavior, it would tear her apart.

  This was a hell of a time to realize she loved him, when he might be about to get his head shot off.

  “He’s turning into the rest stop,” Rex said over the radio, dragging Aubrey back to the present.

  “Don’t let him see you.”

  “What kind of a bounty hunter do you think I am?”

  Just when Aubrey saw the sign for the rest stop a hundred feet ahead, Beau pulled off the road almost into a ditch. She saw the black Bronco. Was black the mandatory color for bounty hunters’ cars? she wondered.

  Rex Bettencourt stood on the hood of the Bronco, peering through binoculars. Aubrey’s initial impression of him had been that he was big, solid and scary. Now she realized how truly tall he was, maybe six foot three. He sported a couple of days’ growth of blond beard on his lean, tanned face.

  He wore khaki pants and a camouflage flak vest, and the biggest brown boots she’d ever seen. He could do some damage with those things.

  Beau reached into the glove box and grabbed a box of ammunition, then climbed out. He’d seemingly forgotten Aubrey, so she quietly got out, too. This seemed a safe enough vantage point.

  “I can just barely see where the limo stopped,” Rex said. “So far no one’s gotten in or out. I don’t see any other people or vehicles, but there’s ample places to hide either.”

  “Let’s move in. You take the north, I’ll take the south. The ditch, and then that little ridge, should provide us with plenty of cover.”

  “What’s our objective?”

  “Keep the guy in the limo safe. Second objective is to apprehend whoever he’s meeting. And if you see any sign of a baby—”

  “Enough said,” Rex replied as he climbed down from the hood of the Bronco.

  “What should I—” Aubrey began, but Beau didn’t even let her finish the question.

  He pointed at her, his expression fierce. “You get back in the car. If you hear shots, then you can call the cops.”

  His command was so authoritative, Aubrey obeyed it. At first. But she’d seen something in the Mustang’s glove box that intrigued her. She opened it. Yes, that was what she thought. Another gun, a small revolver.

  She knew a little bit about guns. When Gavin and Beau had first joined the force, Gavin had thought she ought to learn about firearms.
So he’d taken her to the shooting range and taught her the basics. She’d resolutely refused to get a gun of her own, figuring that in a pinch she’d forget how to use it and the bad guy would take it away from her and shoot her. Beau had agreed that, if she felt that way, she shouldn’t have a gun.

  But now she was in a pinch, and she didn’t feel apprehensive at all. She took the .22 from the glove box and checked the cylinder. It was fully loaded.

  She followed Beau’s trail, not too difficult since he’d been practically wading through tall weeds. She cursed her inappropriate attire—pumps weren’t the best shoes for trekking cross-country, and brambles were shredding her nylons, not to mention what was happening to her bare arms. But she pressed on, the gun in her right hand, the cell phone in her left.

  Maybe she wasn’t a crack shot, she reasoned, but surely one more gun on the good guys’ side was better than nothing. She couldn’t bear it if anything happened to David.

  She pushed her way through a stand of cattails and realized she’d almost reached the open. The limo was just a few feet away, the engine idling. Maybe she should remain here, where weeds hid her from view.

  Then again, the weeds weren’t much protection if bullets started flying.

  She was considering her alternatives when a hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Her gun hand was pinned against her body. She was unceremoniously jerked to the ground and dragged behind a concrete culvert, where she found herself sitting in a puddle of slimy water.

  About that time she realized her assailant was Beau.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

  “Providing backup,” she said when he removed his hand from her mouth.

  He took the gun away from her with amazing ease and tucked it into the back of his jeans. “God help us.”

  “What? I know how to shoot.”

  “One lesson at a firing range does not qualify you—” He stopped, jerked his head up. Aubrey could have sworn he sniffed the air. “Don’t move a hair,” he said, “or so help me I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Her knight in shining armor.