Susie came outside with two tall glasses. “You like sweet tea?”
“Thanks.” I accepted the drink, but my stomach rolled.
She sat in a rocker and removed a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. “Why are you looking for Skinny?”
I carried my tea to the other end of the porch, searched, and found the roofline of Norwich’s house. I closed my eyes, tamped down my worst nightmare. Please, God, let Owen still be alive. “Someone kidnapped my son. We think Skinny’s involved.”
“Kidnapped?” She slapped a hand over her heart. “Sugar, you need the law. You don’t want to play around with those Norwich boys.”
The red-hot poker in my stomach punched another hole. “Nathan’s a US marshal.”
“I knew he looked like a lawman.” She sat back, lit a cigarette, and then pushed the rocker into a slow sway. “How old is your boy?”
“Eight.”
She clucked her tongue. “Those Norwich boys are the seed of Satan. Their daddy was just as mean.” She upped the speed of her chair. “What’s a DB?”
“A dead body.”
Her rocker stopped. “You found a dead body?”
“Yes.” I forced a sip of tea hoping to settle my stomach. “One of the men you saw with Skinny.”
She gasped like an emphysema patient gulping her last breath. “Oh, no.” She coughed, rubbed a fist over her chest. “Not the tall one?”
“Tall one?”
“That first dandy. He was six two, maybe three. About as tall as your man.”
“Nathan’s not—I mean, we’re not—” I shook my head. “No, Joseph’s shorter than Nathan. Around five-nine. He was the one you called fancy boots.”
“Whew.” Her face pinked. “I mean, it’s awful anybody’s dead. But that other one was a heart stopper. Always been a sucker for cleft chins.”
“Cleft chin?”
Susie’s chatter faded. Pieces shifted, theories cracked and mutated into new suppositions.
I yanked my phone from my back pocket and called Nathan. Nothing but dead air. “I need to use your phone.”
I ran into the house and called Nathan, but the call went straight to voicemail. I left a message. “Call me.”
Susie came inside. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to use your truck.” I sent Nathan a text.
—Call me. Urgent.—
Susie’s mouth firmed pencil-thin. “My truck?”
I clasped her forearm and pleaded. “I have to go to Savannah. I think I know who has my son.”
Her gaze roamed the room. She looked everywhere but into my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Please. Skinny and the other dandy have my son.”
She squinted, searched my entire face, then drilled me with a stare. It was the same trick Mom used to ferret out a lie.
She removed a set of keys from a bowl on top of the fridge and held them close to her chest. “If Skinny killed that man, you should wait for your marshal.”
I clasped both her hands in mine and wheedled the keys from her fingers. “I sent him a text. He’ll meet me there. But just in case, I’ll leave a note. Can I borrow some paper?”
She opened a drawer and handed me a pad.
I scribbled a quick note. “A police officer will be here soon. Give the officer this note.”
Susie stood in her doorway, as shell-shocked as any war-torn orphan I’d seen on television.
I flew down the porch steps and slid behind the wheel of her truck. I called Cedar—voicemail. I sent a text.
—Call me. NOW!—
Susie’s description of the second dandy—a six-foot-three man with a cleft chin, wearing a suit—had to be Cedar. Why hadn’t I connected the dots that my grandfather’s corporate attorney would’ve set up the bogus construction companies? He’d been on the inside of a twenty-year money-laundering scheme. Granddad might’ve held the information close, but Cedar couldn’t have been in the complete dark. And all of a sudden, Cedar and Mom were cozy.
I merged onto the interstate and headed north. I called Cedar again. No answer. I resent my earlier text. Waited sixty seconds. Clicked resend. After two minutes with no answer, I threw my cell across the seat. The phone fell to the floorboard out of reach. “Never mind.” I pushed the gas pedal and drove.
Fifty minutes later, I cruised over Wilmington Island bridge, fishtailed down Cedar’s driveway, and skidded to a stop in front of his house. I scanned the yard and looked for Skinny’s motorcycle, but it was nowhere in sight. I stuck the Glock in the waistband of my jeans and yanked my shirttail over the butt.
Cedar answered the door with his cell in one hand and a blue striped tie in the other.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Siren wailing, the sheriff’s black Silverado pulled up to the pier so close Nathan could kiss the bumper if he leaned six inches.
Willie climbed out and hitched his pants. “Dead bodies and you are becoming a habit, Marshal.”
Nathan couldn’t argue. “Norwich’s boat is the third one down.” Nathan removed his rain slicker, and threw it on top of Willie’s cruiser. He stepped on the dock. “Anything on the APB?”
Willie followed Nathan down the ramp.
“Nothing yet. Storm’s moved north, but there’s hardly a road in the county that doesn’t need clearing. My deputies are working traffic for the road-clearing crews. Norwich will have a hard time getting out of Montgomery County without notice.”
Nathan jumped on Norwich’s boat and walked to the helm.
Willie scaled the ladder and followed. He squeezed a tube of Vicks VapoRub and smeared the ointment under his nose, then passed the salve to Nathan.
Nathan lifted the corner of the blue tarp he’d used to cover Lafferty’s body. Stepped back, squirted out a blob of VapoRub, and swiped his upper lip. He’d never understood the biological sense of opening nasal passages to block the decaying, sickening sweet smell of death.
Willie folded his hands against the small of his back, bent at the waist, and studied the body. “You say this guy worked for Kate?”
“And her grandfather before that.”
Willie pulled the tarp back over Lafferty. He unwrapped a toothpick, stuck it in his mouth, and put his hands in his pockets.
Understanding the need to leave no additional fingerprints, Nathan stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Willie slow-chewed his wooden pacifier. “Didn’t see your car by the dock.”
Nathan had learned the sheriff’s tendency to talk and move slow didn’t extend to his observation skills. “Came by boat. We docked downriver.”
“We?”
“Kate’s with me. She needs a ride back to Spartina.”
“Why’d you and Kate cross the river in the middle of a hurricane?” Willie’s calculating eyes didn’t sync with his just-two-friends-passing-the-time tone.
Nathan considered arguing the storm had downgraded to tropical before he’d boarded the boat, but that’d just be hitting a nail already in place. “I was pulling a thread on her son’s kidnapping.”
Surprise and concern battled for dominance on Willie’s face. “I didn’t hear anything about Kate’s boy being kidnapped.”
“Early this morning Owen and his grandmother disappeared from Talbot Island,” Nathan said. “Florida police are working the case. Kidnapping’s still unconfirmed, but the GBI’s due at Spartina within the hour to review the case.”
Willie nodded toward the blue tarp. “And you think this DB could be related to the abduction?”
“Maybe. But there’s a higher probability he’s linked to the drug ring working on Barry Island. One of the DB’s that washed up this week was his son.”
“So the dead son would be Jacob Lafferty.” Willie looked to Nathan for confirmation, then rolled his toothpick. “And how’d you come to find this DB?”
“David Norwich popped on a telephone log for this guy, and I decided to take a ride, check out Norwich’s home address and his boat.”
“Uh huh.” Willie
gave Nathan a Sherlock Holmes glare of dubiety. “And you let Kate tag along?”
“I couldn’t very well handcuff her to her house.” Nathan wished he had used handcuffs to keep her at Spartina. Explaining Kate tagging along to his boss would take every ounce of finesse and imagination he could muster.
Four men and two women clamored over the deck of the boat wearing blue parkas and black ball caps with MSD on the brim.
“Water’s still choppy,” Willie said. “Give me a second to brief my team, and I’ll run you and Kate back to Spartina.”
Nathan sent Jonathan a text with a new ETA and wondered if Erica had left for Atlanta. He could use a local for the door-to-door canvassing.
Erica answered his call with a grunt hello.
“Any chance you’re still in Savannah?” he asked.
“I’ve managed to drive twenty-five miles in five hours.”
Nathan walked to the other side of the boat. “Joseph Lafferty turned up in Hidden Cove. Dead. On a shrimp boat owned by Dennis Norwich’s brother, David.”
“Calvin’s dive boat captain?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you posted, but you might want to drive slow every chance you get.” He disconnected and halted the litany of questions he didn’t have time to answer.
Willie returned, and he and Nathan walked up the ramp. “Where’d you leave Kate?”
Nathan pointed west. “Doublewide on the corner.”
Susie met them at her front door and handed Nathan a piece of paper. “She left not long after you.” She waved a cigarette in the direction of the two rockers on her porch. “We were having a glass of tea, and Kate started talking crazy. Insisted she had to go see that dandy with the Kirk Douglas chin.” Susie glanced at her empty driveway. “She borrowed my truck.”
Nathan scanned Kate’s note and turned to Willie. “With lights running, how quick can we make it to Wilmington Island?”
“Forty-five minutes, give or take.”
“Let’s go.” Nathan thanked Susie and slid into the passenger seat of the Silverado.
“What’s up?” Willie started the engine and backed into the street.
“Kate thinks her attorney’s behind the kidnapping. She’s on her way to confront him. Seventeen Pelican Point Drive.” Nathan called Kate’s cell and left a message. “I’m on my way. Don’t do anything without me.” He shot off a text.
—Wait 4 me. Don’t go 2 Cedar’s house or his office. Wait 4 me.—
Willie dodged a limb and wove the truck through a minefield of trash, potholes, and water. He slowed the truck to a crawl and climbed over a limb the size of Nathan’s thigh. “Why would Kate’s attorney kidnap her son?” Willie asked.
“Noah Barry left a sizable offshore bank account. Kate thinks Cedar knew about the money and abducted her son to gain access. Problem is, Roslyn’s also missing, and she and the attorney are hitting the sheets.”
“Muddies the water,” Willie said. “This whole damn case is about as clear as tar and twice as sticky.”
Nathan couldn’t have said it better. He did a fast calculation of Kate’s head start. He wasn’t sure if he was naïve or just plain stupid to have left her alone. Right now, he didn’t see much daylight between the two. “Can you get an update on the Norwich APB?”
Willie fiddled with the scanner. “Stacy, we get a hit on our APB?”
“Which one, Sheriff?”
Willie heaved a weary sigh. “We only have the one outstanding.”
Silence.
“No, sir. Nothing yet.”
A tree large enough to build a small yacht straddled both lanes. Willie shifted into four-wheel drive and swung off-road.
Nathan tightened his seatbelt and grabbed an overhead strap. His text to Kate failed. Willie veered back on the road and Nathan hit resend. Twenty seconds later another failed message popped on his screen. His phone had service, which meant the towers servicing Kate’s phone were down.
Willie braked hard, and the truck came to an abrupt stop in front of a gaping hole in the road.
Nathan surveyed miles of boggy marsh to the left. On the right, the river rushed by in a relentless pursuit of the ocean. Off-roading wasn’t an option.
Willie reversed. “We’ll have to take the long way around.”
“How long?”
“Back to where we started, then another twelve miles across the island to the south end.”
Nathan flung his cap to the dashboard. If Kate wouldn’t stay at Susie’s long enough for Nathan to return, she sure wouldn’t wait to confront Cedar Haynes face to face.
Nathan’s phone rang and displayed a familiar country code. This wasn’t Nathan’s first perp to flee to Montevideo, and Paco Rodriguez was the best police detective in Uruguay. “Tell me something good, Paco.”
“You owe me big, Parsi. Took three hours to sift through the security tapes and find the shot of the perp who opened the account you asked about.” Paco’s exaggerated sigh hinted at good-natured heckling. “But it’s not the man you suspected.”
“No. Joseph Lafferty’s dead.”
“Huh.” Paco’s tone retained no emotion. “I’m texting the still shot of the perp now and I’ll upload the video when I get to my office. Two weeks ago, he moved in and out of the Montevideo in one day. And as you suspected, tried using a power of attorney to close the account. Instructions to transfer the entire balance to a Caymans account came across an hour after he received notice the bank would accept the document.”
“You froze the account?” Nathan asked.
“Yes. And for that, you owe me a drink.”
“Next time you’re in Atlanta,” Nathan said. “And you sent a false verification that the transfer was complete?”
“Just as you requested.” Paco deadpanned. “I had to promise the bank president lunch at the Carrasco Polo Club.”
“Okay, a drink and a steak dinner next time you’re in town,” Nathan said.
“And one of those fancy bourbons you drink because it took another hour of fast-talking and substantial threats to get the bank in the Caymans to agree.” Paco yawned. “It’s been a busy afternoon.”
Paco’s news confirmed what Nathan suspected. Owen’s kidnapping had nothing to do with the Cabrals. “Thanks, friend.”
If Cedar believed the money had transferred, he’d bolt out of Savannah faster than a short-range scud missile. Even if Kate went to his house, Haynes wouldn’t be home.
He forwarded Paco’s photo of Cedar Haynes to his office and left instructions to attach the incoming video to his dossier.
Nathan turned his attention to Willie. “You think Cedar Haynes could hoodwink Roslyn Barry into faking her grandson’s kidnapping or is she brazen enough to orchestrate the entire charade?”
Willie slowed the truck, drove through three feet of water, then picked up speed. “It’s hard for me to see Mrs. Roslyn putting Katie through that kind of misery.” He swerved to miss another pothole. “My money’s on the attorney.”
Willie sped along the southern tip of the island road and over the bridge to the mainland. They’d lost ten minutes backtracking over the same ground, another twenty getting off the island, and Kate had a half-hour head start. Nathan checked the map on his phone. “How long before we get to Wilmington bridge?”
Willie merged onto the interstate and switched on his lights. “Twenty-five minutes.”
Nathan called his team and scheduled a rendezvous at the bottom of the bridge, and then he called Erica. “Where are you?”
“Same place as the last time we talked. Interstate’s flooded, and traffic’s backed up for miles. I pulled over for food.”
“We found a connection between the Hidden Cove shrimper, Lafferty, and Cedar Haynes. Witness claimed Cedar was chatting up the shrimper night before last. Kate figured out Haynes was behind the kidnapping and took off for Wilmington Island.”
“What do you mean she took off?” Erica’s voice scaled high soprano range. “Without you?”
“She got a head start
.” His phone buzzed, and he checked his text messages. Jonathan had arrived at Spartina but there was no message from Kate.
“You knew Kate was slippery. How’d she manage to get by you?” Untempered disapproval encased Erica’s voice.
She was still pissed at him for having her removed from the case. He couldn’t blame her. “Focus on the new information. Cedar Haynes is after her grandfather’s offshore money, and he snatched Owen as insurance.”
“What offshore money?”
“Thirty million in Montevideo.”
Erica blew a low whistle.
“I’ve got the team headed to Haynes’s house. We meet on the backside of Wilmington bridge in thirty.”
“Hate to whack a dying horse, but that thirty million’s now Kate’s. That many greenbacks can hide a lot of people for a long time. If Owen was at Cedar’s, he was with his grandmother. No reason to get your panties in a wad, the whole bunch are in this together and are long gone by now.”
Nathan considered ripping Erica on her inability to keep an open mind, but people who lived in glass houses… “And if you’re wrong? We’ve had five DBs in less than a week. You think Cedar Haynes won’t hurt Kate? You think he won’t use her boy as a pawn?” He stopped, gave his words time to plunge through Erica’s inflexible mind-set. “Our team can handle recovery, but we could use your help keeping the boy calm.”
“I’m turning around.”
“Run your lights. We won’t wait.”
“Roger that.”
This was just another rescue op. Nathan had saved victims in far worse conditions. With any luck, Haynes had fled, and Kate already held her son in her arms. Only that scenario didn’t mesh with the burn in his gut.
“You need to call in SWAT,” Willie said.
“Call in SWAT?” Nathan’s gut flame found his neck. “My team is SWAT.”
Willie slow-chewed his toothpick. “You dispatched half your team to Florida, and Erica may or may not make it in time. With all due respect, four men do not a SWAT team make.”
Nathan squinted. “Six counting you and me.”
And one thing Nathan was sure of—no way Erica would miss this takedown.
Changing Tides Page 25
