by Laura Scott
Nick glanced around, not wanting to discuss anything further in a public place. “Let’s go out to the car,” he murmured.
Rachel seemed to move in slow motion as they packed up and went back outside, carrying their coffee. He felt better once they were safely settled in the car. “Is there any reason to suspect she was involved in covering up the side effects of the medication?”
“Of course not!” Rachel’s denial was swift. “Her reputation was on the line with this new medication. And even if it wasn’t, why commit suicide now? Why not back when the lawsuits were initially filed?”
She had a point, but he found he couldn’t let it go. “Maybe she was afraid you’d find out the truth and couldn’t bear to face the consequences of her actions?”
Rachel frowned for a moment, as if considering his idea. “I don’t know, Nick. We have been working on releasing our research documents to the FDA, but if there was something Josie was trying to cover up, I’m sure Karl would have told me.”
Unless Karl was in on it, too, he thought. Was it possible that Karl was responsible for kidnapping Joey? Maybe Karl’s goal was to keep Rachel preoccupied while he swept the truth about the diabetes drug under the rug? Once he had the money, he could disappear out of the country without anyone being the wiser.
The more he thought about the theory, the more convinced he became that he was onto something. But he didn’t think Rachel was going to go along with his idea—she was too loyal to her coworkers to think anything bad about them. “Where does Karl live?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “Maybe we should pay him a visit? See what he knows about Josie’s death?”
“He lives in a small house not far from the company,” Rachel said, her forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. “I would say he’d be at work, but, with Josie’s death, I guess I’m not sure. They were close, but only in a professional way as far as I know. Neither one of them is married. Josie has a brother and a twin sister, but no children.”
Nick felt bad for Josie’s family, but he was more interested right now in where Karl Errol was. “Do you know Karl’s home address?”
Rachel rattled it off as he entered it into his phone GPS. He pulled out of the coffee shop parking lot and followed the directions with a sense of grim determination. Hopefully, the good doctor would be at home, playing the role of grieving colleague.
When they pulled up in front of Karl Errol’s house, the small, brick Tudor appeared to be deserted. There were no holiday decorations adorning the home, and the yard had a shaggy look of neglect beneath the light dusting of snow. “Stay here,” he advised Rachel. “I’m going to take a look around outside.”
“Should I call Edith and see if he’s at the office?” she asked, as he slid out from behind the wheel.
“Sure.” He flashed a reassuring smile before heading up the cracked sidewalk leading to the researcher’s front door.
No response from inside the home, which was pretty much what he expected. He peered through the windows but couldn’t see much—the sunlight outside caused a glare that made it difficult to see. He walked around the house, crunching on leaves as he made his way to the garage, which was closed and locked up tight. He strode over to the back door and checked it as well. The screen door opened, and his heart quickened as he tested the interior door.
Locked, but with a flimsy, old-fashioned type of lock. He considered trying to jimmy it with a credit card, but was loath to do anything illegal.
He hesitated on the cracked stoop. What if Joey was inside the old house? What if his theory about Dr. Errol was right? That he’d kidnapped Joey to keep Rachel from uncovering his mistakes?
Wrestling with his conscience, he turned away from the door, but then caught sight of one of those fake rocks that were sometimes used to hide keys. Why people bothered with that sort of thing, he had no clue. Talk about being obvious. He reached down, opened up the fake rock and removed the key.
He accessed the house, wrinkling his nose at the stale air. When was the last time the doctor had been home? Either the guy simply lived like this, or he was holed up somewhere else—with Joey—biding his time until he could get his hands on Rachel’s cash.
He quickly swept through the house, including the upstairs bedrooms but didn’t find anything suspicious. There were only three bedrooms, and they were all empty. He even went down in the basement, which was dark and dank, smelling strongly of mold.
Nothing. Which he found a bit odd. Usually people left a bit of themselves strewn around, at least a bill or a coupon or something. But the place was so void of anything personal that he couldn’t help wondering if he was on the right track. Granted, he hadn’t found Joey here, but he wasn’t willing to give up his theory just yet.
Back up in the kitchen, he searched for notes or anything at all that might indicate where Dr. Errol had gone. The garbage can was empty and there wasn’t a single stray note to be found. He even went back to the master bedroom, but still didn’t find anything.
Dr. Errol was either innocent or smarter than he’d given the guy credit for. And he was leaning toward the latter.
He left the house the same way he’d come in, returning the key to its hiding place in the fake rock. He hurried back around to the front, where Rachel was waiting in the car.
“What took you so long?” she asked, when he slid in behind the wheel. “I was getting ready to come out and look for you.”
“Sorry, I was poking around and lost track of time. Did you get in touch with Edith?”
“Yes, she said that Karl called in saying he was staying home today.” She stared at the house through the windshield. “Maybe we should try knocking at the door again?”
Time to come clean. “Actually, I found the house key hidden in a rock near the back door. I went in and checked out the house. Believe me, no one is home. And from what I saw, I don’t think he’s been home in a couple of days, either.”
“He hasn’t been home?” She stared at him incredulously. “But that’s crazy. I know for a fact that Karl was at work the day we met in my office. I had a meeting scheduled with both him and Josie that I canceled.”
“That was on Wednesday,” he said thoughtfully, going back through the timeline. It was Thursday and he found it hard to believe that only twenty-four hours had passed since he’d sat in Rachel’s office looking at the threatening notes she’d received. “That means he must have been planning this for a while.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rachel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I saw the guy who kidnapped Joey, remember? He was young, in his late twenties or early thirties. I can guarantee he wasn’t Karl Errol. Karl is a short, rather nerdy type of guy with glasses and a half-bald head, although I don’t think he’s hit the age of forty yet.”
She was clearly exasperated with him, but he couldn’t just let this go “Rachel, it’s best if we keep all possibilities open, okay? Errol could have easily hired Morales to kidnap Joey.”
“Believe what you want,” she said with a disgusted sigh. “I know that Karl isn’t capable of doing anything like this.”
There was no point in continuing the argument, so he concentrated on backing out of the driveway and heading back toward the city. They still had a good hour and fifteen minutes before they were due at the bank.
However, Rachel wouldn’t drop the subject, even though he hadn’t said a word. “Obviously you’ve forgotten how we were shot at outside Margie Caruso’s house, which implicates the Mafia, not one of my employees.”
He hadn’t forgotten, but that incident had been more of a warning rather than an attempt to kill them. “Maybe we should head back over there, then?” he asked. “We have time.”
“Great idea,” she agreed enthusiastically.
He stifled a sigh and headed toward the freeway. They’d driven about twenty minutes when Rachel�
�s cell phone beeped. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel because so far the only person who’d texted Rachel since this nightmare began was the kidnapper.
“He wants to know if I have the money yet,” Rachel said, glancing up nervously. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him that we’ll have the money by one o’clock this afternoon. That gives us a little bit of a buffer since we’re hoping to have this settled by noon.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she protested. “I don’t want to make him angry.”
Nick understood her concern, but he wanted some time to react to the kidnapper’s exchange plan. Since Logan was out of the country, he’d had no choice but to call his friend and fellow cop, Jonah Stewart, for assistance. Jonah lived with his wife, Mallory, in Milwaukee, but once he’d heard the story, Jonah had readily agreed to drive up to Chicago. “If this guy understands anything about banks, he’ll understand the time frame is more than reasonable.”
Rachel swallowed hard and sent the message explaining they’d have the money by one o’clock in the afternoon.
There was a tense silence as she waited for the kidnapper’s response. When her phone beeped again, she picked it up with shaking fingers.
“Well?” he asked. “What was his response?”
Rachel lifted her tormented gaze to his, her lower lip quivering with fear. “He said to text him the minute we get the money and not a second later. He also said he’d hurt Joey and keep on hurting him for every minute we’re late.”
SEVEN
Rachel shivered, despite the bright sunlight streaming in through the windshield keeping the interior of the car toasty warm. She couldn’t bear the thought of the kidnapper hurting her son. She didn’t even want to think about what Joey may have already suffered.
She forced her frozen fingers to text back. I promise I’ll call as soon as I have the cash. Please don’t harm my son.
“Rachel, try not to panic. I’m sure he’s bluffing,” Nick murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
“I’m not willing to take that chance,” she snapped.
Nick didn’t seem a bit fazed by her anger. “Remember, we’ve just purchased a new phone. There’s no way for him to track us from now on. And it could be that he isn’t even aware of that fact, yet.”
Suddenly, the idea of getting a new phone didn’t seem like such a good one. Her heart lodged in her throat and she gripped his hand tightly. “What if he gets mad about the switch and hurts Joey?”
“Don’t worry, Rachel,” Nick said in a soothing tone. “The kidnapper has come too far to turn back now. He wants your money, remember?”
Nick’s theory wasn’t at all reassuring. Yes, the kidnapper wanted her money, but it could be that he also had a sadistic streak and took some kind of perverse pleasure from hurting young children, too. She was tempted to beg Nick to return to the truck stop, so she could grab her old phone out of the garbage.
But he was already heading down the highway toward Margie Caruso’s house, so she bit her tongue and tried to relax. At least for now, the kidnapper couldn’t track their movements, which was a good thing. She hoped and prayed that they’d find Joey there.
This time, Nick didn’t pull up in front of the house, but drove around the block, parking on the opposite side of the house. It was broad daylight, so it wasn’t exactly easy to hide from curious eyes.
“Remember, I’m the one who’s going to do the talking here,” she reminded Nick as they slid out of the car.
He grimaced and nodded, keeping a sharp eye out as they walked down the street. Margie Caruso’s house was the third one in from the corner, so it didn’t take long to get there.
She could hear the faint hint of Christmas music coming from one of the houses, and she couldn’t help quickening her pace, eager to see if Margie was home. Nick hung back as she walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell.
The seconds passed with agonizing slowness, but soon the door opened, revealing a well-dressed and nicely groomed woman who didn’t look anything close to her fifty-some years. But the moment Margie saw Rachel standing there, she frowned. “No soliciting,” she said abruptly.
“Wait! My name is Rachel Caruso. I’m not selling anything, I just want to talk to you for a minute.”
Margie paused in the act of closing the door, her gaze raking over Rachel from head to toe. “You’re Anthony’s wife?” she asked.
Hiding a wince, she nodded. She tried to think of a way to forge a bond with the woman. “We divorced a long time ago, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind talking to me for a few minutes.”
The former Mrs. Frankie Caruso pursed her lips for a moment. “Who’s he?” she asked, gesturing toward Nick.
“This is Nick, a good friend of mine.” She twisted her hands together, hoping Margie wouldn’t guess that he was a cop and refuse to see them. Rachel didn’t exactly want to have this conversation outside. Not that she was even sure what she was going to say. The main reason they’d come to Margie’s house was to make sure Joey wasn’t being held here.
“I guess you’d better come in, then,” Margie said, opening the screen door for them.
Nick held the door as she entered the house first. She glanced around curiously and was a little disheartened to find nothing unusual. There were some holiday decorations, including a small fake tabletop-size tree. Would Margie invite her in if she was hiding her son here? Somehow she doubted it. Yet she firmly believed Margie Caruso would be a link to her son. “You have a very nice home,” she murmured as she stepped into the living room.
Margie let out a bark of laughter. “Yep. Bought and paid for by Frankie,” she bragged. “Do you want something to drink? I have coffee and soft drinks.”
“No thanks. I really hope you don’t mind us just dropping in like this,” she said, before Nick could respond. “It’s just I need to find Frankie and I was hoping you’d know where he was.”
“Have a seat,” Margie said, waving at them as she dropped into a recliner. “What do you want with Frankie?”
Rachel’s mouth went dry and she wished she’d agreed to take something to drink. “It’s nothing major, I just need to ask him a few questions.”
“Ms. Caruso, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Nick asked, interrupting them.
“No problem, it’s down the hall to your right,” Margie said, waving in the general direction.
Rachel figured Nick was trying to give them some time alone, most likely thinking that Margie might open up more if he wasn’t sitting there. She stared down at her hands for a minute trying to figure out a way to get Margie to speak openly about Frankie. “Last I heard, Frankie was in Phoenix,” she said in a low voice. “I should tell you that I’ve received some threatening letters and phone calls.” She glanced up, trying to assess Margie’s reaction. “I guess I couldn’t help wondering if your ex might be involved.”
Margie let out a sigh. “I highly doubt Frankie’s entangled in something like that,” she said without hesitation. “It’s not really his style.”
“What is his style?” Rachel pressed. “I divorced Anthony a long time ago, so how do I know Frankie’s not holding some sort of grudge against me?”
Margie tapped one long, lacquered nail against the end table. “Frankie has been splitting his time between Phoenix and Chicago, but I can’t imagine he’s holding the divorce against you. Why would he? Our divorce wasn’t that big of a deal.”
The news that Frankie Caruso could be right now in Chicago made her pulse race with a mixture of dread and excitement. Frankie had to be the one behind Joey’s kidnapping...it was the only thing that made sense. “I have to tell you, I admired how you and Frankie seemed to get along, even after your divorce,” Rachel said.
“Yes, well, we had some business ventures together, which helped,” Margie
replied evasively. Rachel tried not to show her distaste—certainly, those business ventures were likely Mafia related.
“Like I said, it’s just amazing that you both managed to stay friends,” Rachel added. “Obviously, that wasn’t exactly the case with me and Anthony.”
“I know. Anthony wasn’t shy about telling us how upset he was at how you managed to keep him from your son.” Margie’s gaze was challenging, as if daring Rachel to disagree.
The mention of Joey kicked her pulse into high gear. So Frankie and Margie knew about Joey. Knew that she’d kept Anthony away from his son. Was this the motive behind the kidnapping? A way to show her the power of the Caruso name?
“Me and Frankie didn’t have kids,” Margie continued, clearly oblivious to Rachel’s spinning thoughts. “I guess it was a good thing, considering how we didn’t stay together.”
Rachel couldn’t decide if Margie was putting on an act for her benefit or not. She didn’t dare glance at her watch, even though Nick had been gone for what seemed like a really long time. She didn’t want Margie to wonder where he was, either. “I guess maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “Divorce is much easier without fighting over kids.” Before the other woman could ask anything more, Rachel quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to see Frankie anytime soon?”
Margie’s eyebrows lifted. “Maybe. Why?”
Flustered, Rachel strove to keep her tone light and casual. “I thought maybe you could just mention to him that I’d like to talk to him. If he has some time. Nothing urgent...”
Margie stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to gauge what Rachel really wanted. “Yeah, sure. I might see him. Maybe you should give me your phone number so that he has it if he wants to get in touch with you.”
“Of course. Do you have a pen and paper handy?”
