‘And now JT’s free?’
I looked up. Met Red’s gaze. ‘I want to find the rest of the chess set. A lot of people died for these pieces and the sting they represented. I can’t move on without knowing where they are. It feels unfinished.’
Red whistled. ‘You know sometimes you have to just let go.’
Letting go? Oftentimes I could do that. Walk away, no problem. This time though, things had gotten personal. I needed to see it through to the end. ‘Not this.’
He chuckled. ‘Okay, got any ideas where they might be at?’
‘It seems pretty clear Searle took the set from the Walkers’ yacht when he killed them.’ I nodded at the knight in Red’s hand. ‘That one Gibson had already given to Monroe.’
‘So Searle had the set?’
‘I think so.’ I ran my hand through my hair. The night was muggy, my T-shirt was sticking to my back and I felt like I needed a shower. ‘And Monroe does, too, but I don’t think he found it. He had his people turn that ranch inside out. Gibson and Mia had done the same before we arrived. There wasn’t any sign of it. They’ve been through the Searles’ house in San Diego, too. Again, nothing.’
‘Maybe he sold it on.’
‘I don’t think he did.’
‘Why are you so sure?’
I thought about Marco Searle bleeding out on his study floor. I’d asked him where Mia and Gibson where going. He’d said the word ‘chess’ and looked up at the computer. I’d found the map of the ranch on the screen and assumed the two were connected. What if they weren’t?
‘It was something Searle said – the way he said it.’
Red nodded. Encouraging me to go on.
‘Searle knew Mia and Gibson wanted the chess set. He didn’t want them to find it.’ I remembered Searle grimacing as he talked about the chess pieces, like a smile without joy; thinking he would get the last laugh.
Shit. He knew they were heading to the ranch, and he knew they wouldn’t find what they were looking for there. It was a red herring; a trap to lure them into checkmate. I gripped my beer tighter. Looked back at Red. ‘He hid it someplace Mia would never think to look.’
‘Where?’
Good question. Where would Mia never look? I stared out into the blackness of the ocean. Thought back to my conversations with Mia, to her life, her routine. Mia had talked about the Coastal Surf Cottage on Pier 61 as her bolt hole. She’d said it was somewhere to retreat when life with Marco got too much, a kind of home-from-home.
Home-from-home.
I’d heard that from Searle, too. When I’d asked him where the chess pieces were – ‘Home-from-home’, he’d said, ‘she should’ve never …’ He’d used the exact same expression as Mia. Was it coincidence?
I felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline as the last few puzzle pieces clicked into place. Looked at Red. ‘I think I know where the chess pieces are.’
59
At dawn they told him the transfer to Florida Medical was arranged. By 08:30, he’d been loaded into an ambulance. No cuffs, no shackles. Back in civilian clothes, the grey tracksuit gone. His personal effects were handed to him in a manila envelope. He didn’t say thank you, they didn’t say sorry.
They wouldn’t let him walk to the ambulance. He had to take a wheelchair. An orderly pushed him – a young lad, not so strong. Made a big deal of it. JT guessed pushing two hundred pounds of human around was a heavier load than he was used to. Didn’t say anything. Just breathed in the hot morning air and wished he had a pack of Marlboros.
The guard came to say goodbye when he was sitting inside the ambulance. Same man as attacked him in the infirmary, blond and podgy. Bad breath, bad body odour. He sat down on the bench seat opposite. Smiled. ‘You thought anymore on what we talked about?’
JT didn’t speak. Didn’t look at the guard. Stared straight ahead.
‘The Old Man wants an answer.’
‘I gave you my answer,’ JT growled. ‘It’s a no.’
The guard shook his head. ‘Shame. Because you and your bitch are a problem.’
JT shrugged. ‘Get over it.’
‘You know that isn’t going to happen. Word is she’s responsible for the death of another of our associates – Marco Searle – a friend of the Old Man’s grandson. He’s real cut up about it. Wants action taken fast.’
JT remained silent. Stared straight ahead. Showed nothing on his face.
The guard got up. Before he reached the doors, he turned and leaned down, whispering to JT real quiet. ‘What happened in the showers, that was a warning. Next time we’ll get you proper. You and the bitch.’ He smiled. ‘Your little kid, too.’
JT roared with anger but the guard jumped down from the ambulance. He watched the doughy man stride away. Saw him raise his hand in a wave. Heard him laugh as he mouthed, ‘An eye for an eye.’
Bastard. JT knew it wasn’t an idle threat. The Old Man always followed through. They’d come after him, after Lori, and after their daughter. None of them were safe. Dakota wasn’t safe.
The ambulance driver slammed the doors shut. Moments later the engine fired up and they lurched forward, through the airlock gate system, exiting the prison.
JT considered what to do. He thought about calling Lori when he got to Florida Medical, telling her about the threat, about what the Old Man was planning. Decided no. He’d figure it out what to do first. He was the one who’d got her into this. He’d approached her ten years earlier; he’d involved her, put her on the path to killing her husband. He’d changed her. Was responsible. He would figure out how to neutralise the threat.
One day soon he’d tell her about it. Not today, though. Not yet.
He gripped the seat hard. Thought about Lori and Dakota, about the time they’d missed out on, about the time they could have together. He squeezed the seat cushion until he felt the muscles in his arms burning and the beeps of the heart-rate monitor attached to him accelerated into double time. He exhaled as he punched the ambulance wall with his fist.
He couldn’t let them be hurt.
60
Tanned, smiling, relaxed – the way Dakota looked was a million miles away from the bruised, brave, but sad kid I’d dropped off at camp a couple of weeks before. I’d spoken to the girl in the office and walked out to the horse barns to surprise Dakota. Didn’t want to wait a moment longer to see my baby. Couldn’t bear us to be apart another minute more.
She was round behind the barns, inside one of the square pens outside, grooming a tall chestnut horse with a wide white blaze down the front of its face. I could hear her singing to the animal as she worked. I stopped in the shade of the closest barn and leaned against the end stall, watching. As I stood, I breathed in the smell of hay and horse. Looked at the recently raked dirt yard and the polished tack sitting on the timber fence, and was content to rest a while, here in nature, with my baby.
I tried not to let my mind wander. Didn’t want to think on the realisation I’d had the previous night – that Searle could have hidden the chess set in the one place Mia would never think to look for it. I wanted the set found, but had spent a restless night trying to figure out who to tell. Whatever way I came at it, the best person had to be Monroe; he knew the history, and he’d wanted to finish the job. Problem was, I just couldn’t bring myself to make contact.
So I watched Dakota grooming her horse. When she’d finished, she crouched down and reached under the fence to pull a few strands of grass from the pasture beyond, before holding them out for the horse to eat. It seemed to appreciate the gesture. It wasn’t until she ducked under the rail to leave the pen that she saw me.
‘Momma!’ she squealed.
Dropping the brush, she sprinted across the yard and pulled me into a bear hug. I tried not to wince as she pushed her head against my chest; didn’t want to let on about getting shot. Didn’t want her to worry. I kissed the top of her head. Held her tight.
She looked up at me. ‘Are you visiting or…’
‘It’s time to
go home,’ I said. ‘If you’d like that?’
Dakota grinned. ‘Yes, but come meet Widget first. She’s the best horse in the world, seriously. Come on.’
She took my hand and led me to the pen. The chestnut horse turned to face us, put its nose over the fence. ‘Okay, so hold your hand out like this.’ Dakota demonstrated. ‘Let her sniff you.’
I smiled at her confidence and how at ease she was with the horse. Did as she instructed. ‘Hello, Widget,’ I said.
Widget put her muzzle on my hand. It was softer than I’d expected. Then she opened her mouth and licked me. I pulled my hand away fast.
Dakota laughed. ‘She likes you. She only licks the hands of people she likes.’ She put her own hand out again and Widget licked her. ‘She never bites.’
‘She’s great,’ I said, smiling.
Dakota threw her arms around the horse’s face and hugged her. Widget didn’t seem to mind.
I knew from the photos that Dakota had sent me of her paintings that there was darkness lurking somewhere inside her. That the experience she’d had of being kidnapped by Randall Emerson and his men had changed her in some way. But right then all I saw was a happy kid, and for that I was thankful. It gave me hope that she would be okay; we would be okay. ‘You ready to go home?’
Dakota grinned. ‘Yes, Momma.’
As we walked back to my truck, Dakota chattering away to me about all the things she’d done at camp, I felt waves of emotion flooding through me: love, joy, guilt. I’d gotten back to my baby girl. But every step we took together reminded me that Jacob Searle would never see his momma again, and that his father would be jailed for life. Gibson’s final job had been a failure, and he’d spend the rest of his days paying the price. As for me, I’d done my job. But the outcome…? It didn’t feel like the right kind of justice.
Something needed to happen.
Pulling out my cell phone, I selected Monroe’s name from my contacts and tapped a quick message: Remembered something Searle said. Think chess set in Coastal Surf Cottages – number 20, Pier 61.
Now it was down to Monroe.
61
He was waiting out front when we arrived. Leaning against the pale stucco wall outside the main entrance to Florida Medical, real casual. One knee bent, the sole of his boot resting flat against the wall. He looked like JT; his dirty-blond hair flopping over his forehead, the faded denims, the plaid shirt, the scuffed work boots. Like him, but not exactly himself; something was different.
I parked in the lot. He hadn’t seen us yet, which was good. Gave me time to get used to how he looked, work out what was different. Gave me a moment to compose myself so I didn’t let my shock show on my face.
While Dakota, unaware of JT, continued playing a game on her cell phone, I studied him. What was different? He was still a big guy by anybody’s standards, but to me he looked gaunt, like he’d lost a lot of weight and had too many hollows where there shouldn’t be any. It was as if jail had sucked some of the life force out of him. And in a way I guess it had – the incarceration, the stabbing and the heart attack each taking their toll in a different way. He was free, though, and that was what mattered.
I checked the mirror. In the past couple of days I’d been real vigilant, watching out for anyone following me, but I’d seen nothing. Maybe the guy I’d knocked out on the plane had told the Old Man to back off and he’d decided to leave me be a while. I doubted it, though. The Old Man was used to having things go his way. I figured he was just waiting on the best moment to make his move. But that didn’t matter right then. In that moment, it was all about me, Dakota and JT.
Unclicking my seatbelt, I turned to Dakota. ‘You ready to go get him?’
She grinned, and handed me the cell I’d given her for camp. ‘Yes momma.’
We got out of the truck and strode towards the building. It was early, barely nine in the morning, but already the heat and humidity of Florida’s summer was cranked to the max. I pointed towards the entrance. ‘Do you see who’s waiting?’
Dakota squealed with excitement. ‘JT!’
She let go of my hand and sprinted across the tarmac towards him. She stopped a couple of paces from him, then launched herself at him and hugged him tight. As I got closer I heard him chuckling, hugging her back, but saw that there was pain in his eyes. I guessed he was as frail as he was gaunt right now.
‘Hey,’ I said. Real sudden, I felt nervous.
He looked at me with those big blues of his, the light making them look azure, and gave a half-smile. ‘Hello, yourself.’
Dakota released him from the hug and he stepped towards me. I saw him wince with the movement. Saw the lines around his eyes were a little deeper than a few weeks ago, and that he was paler despite his tan. ‘You got a smoke?’
‘Of course.’ I took the pack of Marlboro Reds I’d bought him on the way over from my purse. Opened the pack and tapped one out.
He took it. ‘Wouldn’t let me have them in there.’
‘It’s a health centre.’
He nodded. ‘For sure.’
‘And I thought I was supposed to collect you from the cardiac wing?’
‘They wanted me to wait in a wheelchair.’ He shook his head. ‘Wasn’t ever going to happen. I’m not sick.’
I said nothing. Knew he needed to tell himself that.
‘You got a light?’
I reached into my purse, took out his Zippo and handed it to him. ‘Said I’d hold onto it until you were out.’
‘Yes, you did.’ He smiled. Flipped the top of the Zippo and lit up. Inhaled long and slow, then exhaled with a sigh. He reached out and took my hand. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘Good to see you, too.’ I held his gaze. My heart was banging hard against my ribs. Smiled. ‘You want to get out of here?’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
62
One week later
I’d never expected to hear from Monroe again. Was real surprised to see it was his number calling me. Let the call ring out and go to voicemail twice. Me, JT and Dakota were at the grocery store at the time, trying to act like a real family, trying to find a routine, a normality that we’d never known before.
We were saying at my apartment while JT carried on with his recovery. He and I hadn’t had a conversation about what we’d do longer term. He never had been one for forward planning, and I knew better than to push him on it before he was ready. I knew we’d need to face the threat of Old Man Bonchese, too, but wanted JT at full strength before we did so.
Enjoy the now, I kept on telling myself. Whatever happens later – this right now is good.
We were in the fresh-fruit section. Dakota was picking out a watermelon. She was addicted to the thing after camp; wanted watermelon with every meal. I supposed there were worse things for an addiction. She was healthy, and that was all that mattered. I still hadn’t had the conversation with JT though – still hadn’t told him about her illness, about how, if the cancer came back and she needed a bone-marrow transplant, that he’d be her best chance, because I wasn’t a viable donor. I knew I needed to tell him. He was her father, so he deserved to know. And I’d kept him out of her life for so many years already. There was also the risk Dakota would tell him about the disease herself. They were getting close enough for that.
I sighed quietly. No more secrets. That had to be the way forward.
I smiled at the two of them: father and daughter together, something unimaginable a little more than a month ago. JT was helping Dakota, lifting down the watermelons from the top of the display and holding them out for her to look out. She shook her head at his latest offering just as my cell started ringing a third time. JT looked at me, raised an eyebrow. ‘They seem real keen to talk.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Answer, it’s fine.’ He put the watermelon back and selected the next candidate Dakota pointed at. ‘We’ve got this.’
I nodded, stepped away from them and answered. ‘What do you want?’
> Monroe told me they’d turned the cabin inside out before they’d found the chess pieces. Searle had hidden them in a hole in the wall, covered by the wooden cladding behind the bed. I didn’t know what his intention had been, other than to keep them from sight and keep the blame for the Walkers’ murder on Gibson Fletcher. I wondered if using the place his wife retreated to from him had brought him some kind of twisted pleasure. Mia had never known how close she was to them. If she had, her and Gibson would never have gone to Searle’s ranch, and I’d never have caught up with them. Mia would still be alive.
I was thinking on that, on the irony and the tragedy, when Monroe’s voice down the line pulled me back into the moment. ‘Lori? Did you hear what I said?’
‘Sorry, no.’
He sighed, impatient. ‘I’ve got an idea about how to finish the sting Gibson started.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Maybe.’ He paused. ‘I’ll need your help.’
Shit. ‘Like I’m going to work for you again. You lied to me. Hell, you broke the damn law yourself, and you are the law!’
‘Just hear me out.’
I glanced at JT. He smiled, oblivious. ‘Why?’
‘I know you took the missing knight. You’re not done with this case, and you know it. You feel bad that Mia died, that Gibson is back in jail. You want a resolution to what Gibson and I started two and a half years ago just as much as I do. If the operation works out, there’s a chance I can get Gibson out early.’
I looked at Dakota laughing with JT. Knew that Jacob – Mia and Gibson’s son – would never get to see his momma again, and probably not his father, either. Mia’s death, I felt responsible for. Gibson had only killed the guards because he was backed into a corner, desperate. It wasn’t fair for Jacob to suffer because of that. I couldn’t change what had happened, but maybe I could make some kind of amends.
Deep Blue Trouble Page 27
