by Al Boudreau
“Plausible theory,” Andrew said, “the parts being the sum of the whole.”
“Okay, now you’re sounding more like an accountant.” I smiled and ran my fingers across my razor stubble. “Mind putting that in layman’s terms?”
Andrew’s face lit up. “Okay, well, Blais seems to have focused on two separate, yet very specific tasks. First, there’s the GPS component. I did a little digging. People have been trying to perfect this technology forever, but no one could get the antennas on these subdermal implants to work. Looks to me like Blais may have cracked it. He’s obviously an electronics whiz, considering what his career entails. And smart. You have to admit, he’s done well in staying several steps ahead of us the whole time. Chess versus checkers.”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right. Okay, I’m with you so far. Go on.”
Andrew continued. “His second task seems to be all about cash flow. The guy waited until he got his reenlistment bonus before bailing on the Marines. Followed by a very calculated plan to hit Richard’s clients while he and his wife were conveniently out of the way.”
I looked straight into Andrew’s eyes. “Maybe this whole case was meant to be nothing but subterfuge. Blais is obviously a methodical thinker.” I began pacing the room. “So, maybe Blais chose a family and identity like Ellis Odell’s because there were multiple advantages in doing so.”
“Convenience being one of them,” Andrew said.
I nodded. “Considering the GPS angle, I have to believe that field testing an implant would have a much higher probability of success in a thirteen-year-old’s arm than it would using an adult as a guinea pig. But we both know using a kid for experimentation like that would be highly illegal.”
“And immoral.”
“The thing is, if Blais was in bed with Terri Odell, he wouldn’t even have had to get permission beforehand,” I said. “Then they’d simply share in the profits once he sold the tech.”
“Makes total sense. Blais forsakes his own identity and literally fills Ellis Odell’s shoes. Right down to the guy’s facial features. It all seems to add up.”
“Pretty smart way to beat the system,” I said. “Had they not been tipped off, the military might never have put it together.”
“Do you think it was part of Blais’s original plan to knock Odell off right from the start?” Andrew asked. “Could be that if the real Ellis Odell hadn’t figured out what was going on, and never got in Blais’s way before he finalized his plans, the guy would still be alive today.”
“Guess we’ll never know,” I said, “but Blais sure seemed to be off-kilter right before he disappeared.”
“Man, I love this line of work,” Andrew said.
“Yeah, well, let’s save the celebrating for later. We’ve got calls to make.”
Chapter 25
“Wake up,” Sarah said. “You told me not to let you sleep till noon again today.”
“I must have been delirious. Never listen to a word I say when I’m in that state.”
“C’mon, Carter. I let you sleep in yesterday. Now, get up and I’ll make you a nice big breakfast. Besides, you’re missing all the excitement. Your case has been all over the news this morning. Non-stop. They’re calling Blais a traitor.”
“A traitor? Did they give a reason why?”
“Sure did. Seems he and his new little family were all geared up to defect to China.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. Authorities found a trove of documents to support it. Blais was planning on selling his GPS technology to the Chinese government. I don’t understand all the ins and outs of what they’re saying, but Andrew does. He’s downstairs. And I’m sure he’s eager to tell you all about it.”
“Man, I wish I had your brother’s energy. I don’t think that guy even sleeps.”
“He sleeps. He just does it seven hours at a time,” Sarah said, her laughter trailing off down the hallway.
I hauled my sorry assets out of the sack, threw on some clothes, and tried not to fall down the stairs.
“Hey, good morning, Carter,” Andrew said.
“Yet to be determined,” I grumbled, still wishing I was fast asleep.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve been talking about the Blais case on practically every station,” Andrew said. “I just watched an interview with some plastic surgeon. I don’t remember his name, but he said he was hired to alter Blais’s physical appearance. One channel even had Sergeant Kehoe on. They’re giving Honolulu PD most of the credit for bringing Randall Blais down. Kehoe made it clear he had plenty of help in the matter, but didn’t name names.”
“Good,” I said. “We need that kind of attention like we need head lice.”
“Carter, that’s just wrong,” Sarah said while grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me. “You and Andrew are heroes. Well, kinda.”
“Yeah, Carter. Heroes. Except nobody knows but the three of us,” Andrew said, grinning ear to ear.
“That’s not true at all,” Sarah said. “I spoke with Richard last night. You two are definitely heroes to him. Due to your quick response and plan of attack, the police were able to head off Blais’s attempted heists before he and his men had time to get away with their scheme. They didn’t get a dime. Richard’s been on the news in California. Leave it to him. The way they spun the story on the news, it made it look like Richard’s security system designs helped save the day. He told me his business is on the rise. But he knows you saved his livelihood. And I’m thinking maybe his pride, too.”
“That’s good enough for me,” I said.
“And you’re both amazing in my book,” Sarah said. “I think it’s so sweet that you two decided to give the bulk of that fourteen thousand dollars to Amber Odell’s grandmother. It’ll go a long way in helping to give that kid a better life, especially now that we know Amber’s mother was involved. The grandmother is obviously a decent woman, taking care of that poor girl while all that craziness was going on around her.”
“Poor kid,” Andrew said. “Lost her father, too. I wish we could do more.”
“We intend to,” I said. “Maybe Sarah hasn’t told you yet, but we’ve decided to pay for Ellis Odell’s funeral. Turns out his brother Curtis is nearly broke, and wasn’t going to be able to do much in the way of a proper service. Richard and his wife said they’d be willing to pitch in, too. Amber may have lost her dad, but at least there’ll be a proper service she can attend to remember him by.”
“That’s awesome,” Andrew said. “By the way, I heard a few minutes ago that Todd Graf finally confessed to helping Blais and Terri Odell hide Amber away without her father’s consent. And he was selling meds on the side, too. One news program said they thought he’d get fifteen to twenty.”
“Good,” I said. “Graf will be going to Halawa with all the other drug pushers, that narcissistic clown.”
“Oh, and Terri Odell. She’s going away, too,” Andrew said. “She’s been indicted for Felony Child Endangerment, citing Amber’s mental suffering and bodily harm in toting that device around inside her arm. Terri Odell also admitted to posting those social media photos of Amber’s stitches. All staged to help lead us to Graf. Guess she and Blais really wanted that GPS test run to succeed.”
“Good,” Sarah said. “A felony conviction would send her to prison for a long time. Right where she belongs.”
I cleared my throat. “Speaking of people being where they belong … Sarah, I had a lot of time to think about us, our business, and our lives. And I realized you’re much too good at what you do—what we do—to take a back seat. So, as soon as the doc says you’re ready, and if it’s what you want, I’d like you back out in the field with me. Your brother is good, but he’s planning on studying criminal justice starting in September. I need you by my side, out in the trenches, digging for clues. What do you say?”
Sarah grinned. “Silly man. Andrew and I already worked that one out. Done deal.” Sarah and Andrew broke into laughter as I shook my head.
“Sorry, handsome, just kidding. I couldn’t resist. In all seriousness, I’ve been busy while you’ve been gone. We have a lot to discuss. That being said, it would be an honor, and a pleasure, to work beside my hero again. Consider it done.”
The End
No Deposit No Return
Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 3
by
Al Boudreau
Copyright 2016
Query Publishing, LLC
All rights reserved
No Deposit No Return is a work of fiction.
Names, places, and events are either products of the author’s
imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter _9
Chapter _10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 1
“It feels wrong to be going inside of a bank so late at night,” I said as I looked over at my personal and professional partner, Sarah Woods. She sat motionless in the passenger seat of my Buick, staring past me as though caught in a trance. Her attention seemed to be fixated on the man who sat alone inside the only lit space within Bridgeport’s branch of JR Moorehouse Steele & Company. Steele, as most people called it, was the country’s largest multinational banking and financial services holding corporation.
“Seems extra cruel, kidnapping an only child.” Sarah’s voice was monotone, her focus unaffected by the statement. An uncomfortable period of time passed before she looked at me and asked, “Do Jason Iacona and his wife have extended family in the area to support them through all of this?”
Sarah’s choice of words sent my thoughts off on a tangent, knowing full-well what she was about to face during this meeting with our new client. I’d met with Iacona for an initial briefing earlier this morning. His description of the case’s inciting incident dredged up heavy memories for me, having to do with the loss of my own child years ago. And though details of the two situations were different, the reflection gave me extra motivation for doing my best to reunite Iacona with his son.
“Carter?”
“Sorry. I, uh … I think so. I seem to remember him telling me his wife’s parents have a summer home nearby.”
“Good,” Sarah said. “Well, guess we should get moving, right? I’m sure he doesn’t want to spend all night at the bank.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door.
I reached over and put my hand on her shoulder. “Sarah … wait.”
“What?” she asked.
“You just got home from your weekend getaway with Jackie, so I haven’t had much time to bring you up to speed here,” I said. “I haven’t watched the bank’s video surveillance footage yet, but from what Iacona told me this morning, it’s pretty intense.”
Sarah gave me a look, then turned and pulled the door back. “OK, so what are you thinking? Do you want to wait until tomorrow to meet with him? Want me to sit this one out? What?”
“No. None of that. Actually, I told him I wanted to wait until this evening to watch the playback so you and I could view it together.” I reached for a bottle of water and took a pull. “I just want to make sure you’re mentally prepared for what we’re about to see, that’s all. You said something about being sure he didn’t want to spend all night at the bank. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what he intends to do.”
Sarah mouth hung open as she shook her head. “Why?”
“You weren’t here for the thunder storms we got late yesterday afternoon, which is when this incident went down. Anyways, a squall line knocked out power here for several hours.” I took another sip of water. “Causing Iacona to lose contact with the kidnappers. Poor guy feels that spending the night at the bank holds the best odds for being contacted by these hoods. Said he can’t afford to take any chances.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, but that just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. Pretty good chance the guys who pulled this job are pros. My money says they chose Iacona for very specific reasons. They would have had to do their homework to pull off hitting a major institution like Steele, don’t you think?”
“I do. And I told Iacona that. But we’re not in his shoes.”
Sarah hung her head. “Point taken. Poor guy must be tapped out, emotionally. But time is always a factor where kidnappings are concerned. Does he seem open to solid guidance from us? Because bad decisions on his part can only make matters worse.”
“He gave me reason to believe he’s willing to defer to us, in regard to what our next few moves should be.” I said. “Guess we’ll know soon enough.”
Chapter 2
The deep, pronounced frown lines on Jason Iacona’s long, narrow face telegraphed defeat as he stood on the other side of the glass, fumbling with the bank entrance security locks. He finally swung the thick glass door open after what looked to be a frustrating battle with the mechanism. He held his hand out to Sarah after I motioned for her to enter. “Jason Iacona.”
“Hi, Mr. Iacona, I’m Carter’s partner, Sarah Woods.”
“Thank you for coming, Ms. Woods. And please, call me Jay. Mr. Peterson. Glad to see you again. I want to thank you both for your willingness to meet at this late hour.” He secured the entrance behind us and held the inner door open, which separated the airlock from the lobby. “Go ahead into my office. I’ll be right there.”
I led the way to Iacona’s office, then motioned for Sarah to take a seat. I pulled out my notebook and sat down next to her as our client entered. “More quiet here now than it was this morning,” I said as Iacona slid in behind his desk.
“No doubt,” Iacona replied. “It was utter madness, having to answer questions from our in-house legal team, local police, state police, FBI, my boss …” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “I truly believe the only missing entity any of them care about is the money.” He leaned forward, placed his hands, palms down, atop his immaculate desk, and with bloodshot eyes looked straight at Sarah. “Do you have any children, Ms. Woods?”
“Please, call me Sarah. And yes … yes, I do. A son. His name’s Brian. He’s in college now,” Sarah said, managing a weak smile.
Iacona nodded. “If you’re anything like us—me and my wife Nelda—you never allow yourself to consider what it would feel like to lose your child. Now we’re faced with just that possibility.”
“I’m so sorry you’re in such a position, Mr. … uh, Jay. I know I speak for Carter when I say we’re here to help in any and every way possible.”
“Speaking of which, maybe we should get started,” I said, hoping Iacona could maintain his stoic demeanor long enough to get through our questions.
“Yes, of course,” Iacona said as he stood up. “Can I offer you something? Bottled water? Soft drink?” he asked as he turned to reach for the large laptop sitting on the sideboard.
Sarah waved her hand. “Not for me, thanks.”
“All set, too,” I replied.
Without another word he walked around to where we were seated and placed the laptop on his desk, facing us, then hit play.
The first few seconds of video footage showed a man in his mid to late thirties walking into Iacona’s office, netbook computer in hand. I turned to my right and spotted a camera mounted high on the wall, opposite the doorway. As I focused on the recording again the surveillance feed switched to show a different vantage point. I turned and looked behind me. The camera for this new angle was positioned halfway
up the wall, over my left shoulder. Roughly five seconds later the video changed to show a third vantage point, capturing Iacona’s backside and his activity while at his desk. This angle also captured the man who’d been seated where Sarah was now. I looked straight ahead and spotted a camera mounted halfway up the wall, positioned directly behind Iacona’s desk.
“Any way to isolate, or lock onto, one camera view at a time?”
Iacona shook his head as he hit a key to pause playback. “Unfortunately, the surveillance system automatically cycles in five-second intervals among the three cameras in my office. The security company set it up that way. Stringent requirements dictated by the bank. As a result, what you see on this recording is all we have to work with for the feed dedicated to my office. There is one other recording with the suspect on it, from when he entered the main lobby.”
“How about footage covering the exterior of the building?” I asked.
“Normally, yes, but it got knocked out during the storm.”
“Do we have access to the lobby recording?”
Iacona nodded and pointed toward the computer. “It’s on there. There’s also a segment from inside the vault, when we went to load the transport bags with cash.”
Sarah slid forward in her chair. “Jay, would you mind playing the video again from the beginning?”
“Absolutely.” Iacona worked the keys, and the laptop-toting suspect appeared on the screen once again.
“Stop it there, please,” Sarah requested. “Look,” she said, “that man was wearing a wig.”
