by Harlan Coben
Chapter 54
WHEN THE PLANE LANDED, Cal Dollinger took over. Yates was used to that. Most m istook Dollinger as the muscle and Yates as the brains. In truth theirs had a lways been closer to a more political partnership. Adam Yates was the candidate w ho stayed clean. Cal Dollinger was behind-the-scenes and willing to get nasty.
"Go ahead," Dollinger said. "Make the call."
Yates called Ted Stevens, the agent they had assigned to follow Olivia Hunter.
"Hey, Ted, you still on her?" Yates asked.
"I am at that."
"Where is she?"
"You're not going to believe this. Ms. Hunter got off the plane and headed s traight to a strip joint called the Eager Beaver."
"She still there?"
"No, she left with a black stripper. I followed them back to some dump on the w est side of town." Stevens gave him the address. Yates repeated it for Dollinger.
"So Olivia Hunter is still at the stripper's trailer," Yates asked.
"Yes."
"Anyone else with them?"
"Nope, just the two of them alone."
Yates looked at Dollinger. They had discussed how to handle this, how to get Stevens off the case and set it up for what was about to occur. "Okay, thanks, Ted, you can leave them now. Meet me at the Reno office in ten minutes."
"Someone else picking them up?" Stevens asked.
"Not necessary," Yates said.
"What's going on?"
"Olivia Hunter used to work the clubs for Comb-Over. We flipped her yesterday."
"She knows a lot?"
"She knows enough," Yates said.
"So what's she doing with the black chick?"
"Well, she promised us that she would try to convince a woman named Kimmy Dale, a black dancer who works at the Eager Beaver, to flip too. Hunter told us that Dale knows a ton. So we gave her rope, see if she was keeping her word."
"Which it looks like she is."
"Yeah."
"So we're in good shape."
Yates looked over at Dollinger. "As long as Comb-Over doesn't find out, yeah, I t hink we're in real good shape. I'll meet you at the office in ten minutes, Ted.
We'll talk more."
Yates pressed the end button. They were in the concourse now, heading for the e xit. He and Dollinger walked shoulder to shoulder, as they'd done since e lementary school. They lived on the same block in Henderson, outside of Las Vegas. Their wives had been college roommates and were still inseparable.
Dollinger's oldest son was best friends with Yates's daughter Anne. He drove her t o school every morning.
"There has to be another way," Yates said.
"There isn't."
"We're crossing a line here, Cal."
"We've crossed lines before."
"Not like this."
"No, not like this," Cal agreed. "We have families."
"I know."
"You have to do the math. On one side, you have one person. Candace Potter, an e x-stripper, probably an old coked-out whore, who was involved with lowlifes l ike Clyde Rangor and Emma Lemay. That's on one side of the equation, right?"
Yates nodded, knowing how this would go.
"On the other side are two families. Two husbands, two wives, three kids of y ours, two of mine. You and me, we may not be that innocent. But the rest of t hem are. So we end one ex-hooker's life, maybe two if I can't get her away from t his Kimmy Dale-- or we let seven other lives, worthy lives, get destroyed."
Yates kept his head down.
"Us or them," Dollinger said. "In this case, it's not even a close call."
"I should go with you."
"No. We need you to be at the office with Ted. You're creating our murder s cenario. When Hunter's body is found, it will naturally look like a mob hit to k eep an informant quiet."
They headed outside. Night had begun to settle in now.
"I'm sorry," Yates said.
"You've pulled my butt out of plenty of fires, Adam."
"There has to be another way," Yates said again. "Tell me there's another way."
"Go to the office," Dollinger said. "I'll call you when it's done."
Chapter 55
THE SMELL OF POTPOURRI filled Kimmy's trailer.
Whenever Olivia had smelled potpourri over the past decade it brought her back t o that trailer outside Vegas. Kimmy's new place still had that same smell.
Olivia could feel herself start slipping back in time.
If there were train tracks nearby, this neighborhood was on the wrong side of t hem. The trailer had siding that seemed to be in mid-shed. Missing windows were c overed with plywood. Her rusted car cowered like an abandoned dog. The driveway w as oil-stained sand. But the interior, besides the aforementioned odor, was c lean and what magazines would dub tastefully furnished. Nothing expensive, of c ourse. But there were little touches. Nice throw pillows. Small figurines.
It was, in short, a home.
Kimmy grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine. They sat on a futon couch, and Kimmy poured. The air conditioner whirred. Kimmy put her glass to the side. She r eached out with both hands and gently placed them on Olivia's cheeks.
"I can't believe you're here," Kimmy said softly.
Then Olivia told her the whole story.
It took a while. She started with being sick at the club, going back to the t railer early, Cassandra's dead body, Clyde attacking her. Kimmy listened, t otally rapt. She did not say a word. She cried sometimes. She shook. But she d id not interrupt.
When Olivia mentioned the online post about her daughter, she saw Kimmy go r igid.
"What?"
"I met her," Kimmy said.
Olivia felt her stomach drop. "My daughter?"
"She came here," Kimmy said. "To my house."
"When?"
"Two months ago."
"I don't understand. She came here? Why?"
"She said she started looking for her birth mother. You know, out of curiosity.
The way kids do. I told her as nicely as I could that you were dead, but she a lready knew that. Said she wanted to find Clyde and avenge you, something like t hat."
"How would she have known about Clyde?"
"She said-- let me think a second-- she said that first she went to the cop who h andled your homicide."
"Max Darrow?"
"Right, I think that's the name. She went to him. He told her that he thought Clyde killed you but that nobody knew where Clyde was." Kimmy shook her head.
"All these years. That son of a bitch has been dead all these years?"
"Yes," Olivia said.
"It's like hearing Satan died, you know."
She did. "What was my daughter's name?"
"She didn't tell me."
"Did she look sick?"
"Sick? Oh, wait, I see. Because of that online post. No, she looked pretty h ealthy." Kimmy smiled then. "She was pretty. Not flashy. She had spunk though.
Just like you. I gave her that picture. You know, the one of us from the Sayers-Pic routine. You remember that?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Kimmy just shook her head. "I just can't believe you're here. It's like a dream o r something. I'm scared you're going to start to fade away and I'm going to w ake up in this cockroach hell without you."
"I'm here," Olivia said.
"And you're married. And pregnant." She shook her head some more and let loose a d azzling smile. "I just can't believe it."
"Kimmy, do you know a Charles Talley?"
"You mean Chally? Crazy whack-job. He works at the club now."
"When did you last see him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Week at least." She frowned. "Why? What does that bastard h ave to do with this?"
Olivia was silent.
"What is it, Candi?"
"They're dead."
"Who?"
"Charles Talley and Max Darrow. They were in on it somehow. I don't know.
Something with my daughter coming back tipped them
off. They probably wrote that p ost to find me." Olivia frowned. Something felt off about that part, but for n ow she pushed through. "Darrow wanted money. I gave him fifty thousand. Charles Talley was involved too."
"You're not making sense."
"I was supposed to meet with someone tonight," Olivia said. "They were supposed t o show me my daughter. Only now Darrow and Chally are both dead. And someone is s till looking for some tape."
Again Kimmy's face fell. "Tape?"
"When Clyde was beating me up, he kept asking, 'Where's the tape?' And then t oday--"
"Wait a second." Kimmy held up a hand. "Clyde asked you that?"
"Yes."
"And that's why he killed Cassandra? To find a videotape?"
"I think so, yeah. He was going nuts searching for it."
Kimmy started biting her nails.
"Kimmy?"
But her old friend just stood and walked toward the cabinet in the corner.
"What's going on?" Olivia asked.
"I know why Clyde wanted the tape," Kimmy said, her voice suddenly calm. She p ulled open the cabinet door. "And I know where it is."
Chapter 56
MATT LED LOREN to the Eager Beaver's darkened back booth. They sat down as ABC b egan to sing "The Look of Love." The room was dark. The strippers felt suddenly f ar away.
"You're not armed, are you?" Matt said.
"I didn't have time to get a weapon approval."
"You're also here on your own."
"So?"
Matt shrugged. "If I wanted to, I could probably still knock you over and run."
"I'm tougher than I look."
"I don't doubt it. You were a tough kid."
"You weren't."
He nodded. "So what do you know about my wife?"
"Why don't you start, Matt?"
"Because I've done all the stuff that shows trust so far," he replied. "You h aven't."
"Fair point."
"So?"
Loren thought about it but not for long. There was no reason not to. She truly b elieved he was innocent and if she was wrong, the evidence would prove it. He w ouldn't be able to talk his way out of it. Ex-cons don't have that luxury.
"I know your wife's real name is Candace Potter."
She started talking. He did too. He interrupted with questions and follow-ups.
When Loren reached the part about the Candace Potter autopsy, about the AIS w oman, Matt sat up and his eyes widened.
"Say that again."
"Max Darrow checked off the part about the victim having AIS."
"Which you said is like being a hermaphrodite?"
"A little, yeah."
He nodded. "So that's how Darrow figured it out."
"Figured out what?"
"That Candace Potter was alive. Look, my wife had a daughter when she was f ifteen. The baby was put up for adoption."
Loren started nodding. "So somehow Darrow found that out."
"Exactly."
"And then he remembers the AIS from the autopsy. If Candace Potter was at one t ime pregnant--"
"Then it couldn't have been Candace Potter who was murdered," Matt finished.
"Your wife is supposed to meet with her daughter here tonight?"
"At midnight, right."
Loren nodded. "That's why you made this deal with me. That one A . M. thing. So y our wife would be able to keep her rendezvous with her daughter."
"Right," Matt said.
"Nice of you. To make that sacrifice."
"Yeah, I'm a prince except . . ." Matt stopped. "Oh, Christ, think about what w e've been saying. It's all a setup. It has to be."
"I'm not following."
"Okay, let's say you're Max Darrow. Let's say you figure out that Candace Potter i s still alive, that she ran off. How would you find her after all these years?"
"I don't know."
"You'd try to draw her out, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"And how? By forcing her to show herself. You might post something about her l ong-lost daughter being on death's door. You, if you're a cop, might be able to f ind out some details about the hospital, the town, the doctor. Maybe you even f ind out from the adopted daughter herself, I don't know."
"Risky," Loren said.
"Risky how?"
"What would make him think she'd still be looking up her old name like that?"
He thought about that. "I'm not sure. But of course that's not all you do. You t ry to follow up on any old leads. You go back over the case step-by-step. But i f she's out there, if she's got a computer like everyone else in the free w orld, maybe she's going to be curious and Google her old name. It's bound to h appen, right?"
Loren frowned. So did Matt. The same thing kept troubling him.
"Those pictures on my camera phone," he said.
"What about them?"
He was thinking about how to put it when the waitress popped up to their booth.
"Another drink?"
Matt took out his wallet. He plucked out a twenty-dollar bill and showed it to h er. "Do you know Kimmy Dale?"
She hesitated.
"I only want a yes or no," Matt said. "Twenty bucks."
"Yes."
He handed her the twenty and took out another.
"Is she here?"
"Just yes or no again?"
"Right."
"No."
He handed it to her. He took out three more. "You get these if you tell me where s he is."
The waitress thought about it. Matt kept the money in sight.
"Kimmy might be home. I mean, it was weird. Her shift is supposed to run until e leven, but she just ran out an hour ago with some lady."
Loren turned to him, but Matt did not blink. His face kept still. He took out a nother twenty. He also took out a photograph of Olivia. "Was this the lady Kimmy left with?"
The waitress suddenly looked scared. She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Loren was already up and starting for the door. Matt dropped the dollars and f ollowed her.
"What's up?" Matt said.
"Come on," Loren called back. "I already have Kimmy Dale's address."
Kimmy put the videotape into the player. "I should have known," she said.
Olivia sat on the futon and waited.
"You remember that closet in the kitchen?" Kimmy asked.
"Yes."
"Three, maybe four weeks after your murder, I bought this big vat of vegetable o il. I got on a stepladder to put it on the top shelf and behind the lip on top o f the door, I saw this"-- she pointed with her chin toward the screen--"stuck up t here with duct tape."
"Have you watched it?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "I should have-- I don't know-- gotten rid of it. Given i t to the police, something."
"Why didn't you?"
Kimmy just shrugged.
"What's on it?"
She looked like she was about to explain, but then she gestured toward the s creen. "Watch."
Olivia sat up. Kimmy paced, wringing her hands, not looking at the screen. For a f ew seconds there was nothing but static. Then it snapped to an all-too-familiar s cene.
A bedroom.
It was filmed in black and white. The date and time were stamped in the corner.
A man sat on the edge of a bed. She did not recognize him.
A male voice whispered, "This is Mr. Alexander."
Mr. Alexander-- if that was his real name-- started undressing. From stage right, a woman appeared and started to help him.
"Cassandra," Olivia said.
Kimmy nodded.
Olivia frowned. "Clyde was taping customers?"
"Yes," Kimmy said. "But with a twist."
"What sort of twist?"
On the screen, both participants were naked. Cassandra was on top of the man n ow. Her back was arched. Her mouth was open. They could hear her purported c ries of passion-- they couldn't have sounded more fake if she'd used a cartoon v oice.
"I think I've seen enough," Olivia said.
"No," Kimmy said, "I don't think you have."
Kimmy hit the fast-forward button. The onscreen activities became more hurried.
Changing positions, quick shifts. It didn't take all that long. The man was done a nd dressed in fast-forward seconds. When he left the room, Kimmy let go of the b utton. The tape slowed back down to normal speed.
Cassandra moved closer to the camera. She smiled into the lens. Olivia felt her b reath grow deep. "Look at her, Kimmy. She was so young."
Kimmy stopped pacing. She put a finger to her lips and then pointed it at the s creen.
A man's voice came on. "This is a souvenir for Mr. Alexander."
Olivia made a face. Sounded like Clyde Rangor trying to disguise his voice.
"Did you have fun, Cassandra?"
"I had lots of fun," Cassandra said in the flattest monotone. "Mr. Alexander was j ust great."
There was a brief pause. Cassandra licked her lips and glanced toward someone w ho was out of the shot, as if waiting for her cue. It came soon enough.
"How old are you, Cassandra?"
"I'm fifteen."
"Are you sure?"
Cassandra nodded. Someone off camera handed her a sheet of paper. "I just turned f ifteen last week. Here's my birth certificate." She put the document close to t he lens. For a moment the picture was blurry, but then someone worked the f ocus. Cassandra held it up for nearly thirty seconds. Born at the Mercy Medical Center in Nampa, Idaho. Parents were named Mary and Sylvester. Dates were c learly visible.
"Mr. Alexander said he wanted someone fourteen," Cassandra said, as if reading h er lines for the first time, "but then he said I'd be okay."
The camera went back to static.
Olivia sat in silence. So did Kimmy. It took a while for the full weight of what Clyde Rangor had done to hit her.
"My God," she said.
Kimmy nodded.
"Clyde didn't just blackmail them with prostitutes," Olivia said. "He set them u p with underage girls. He had their birth certificates for proof. He even p retended that the johns were the ones who requested pubescent girls, but either w ay, even if you claim that you thought the girl was over eighteen, that's a s erious crime. This guy, this Mr. Alexander, he didn't just risk being e mbarrassed or found out. He could be ruined. He could end up in jail."
Kimmy nodded.
The static ended and another man appeared on the screen.
"This is Mr. Douglas," the whispery voice said.
