Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  ‘I know this is hard on you, Grace, but you don’t have any choice, not if you want to know the truth.’

  With a final wail her body sagged against his. He hesitated, then swept her into his arms and carried her out of the ocean onto the beach. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her head rested on his shoulder. His pulse kicked as her breasts brushed against his chest. Her scent filled his nostrils, mixed with the tang of salt and flowers from the garden, adding feelings of lust and tenderness to his adrenaline filled veins.

  He told himself that he was just protecting an informant, that he’d do the same for any woman in a similar predicament. But he was lying. His feelings for Grace went way beyond duty.

  Grace wept aloud. Jack rocked her back and forth until her sobs subsided. He tipped her face to his and brushed his lips against her forehead. When he was sure she could stand without falling, he set her on her feet. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and clasped her body tightly to his.

  ‘I’m here for you,’ he said, not knowing what else to say that wouldn’t sound maddeningly inappropriate to her pain.

  Her response was raw. ‘I know. You’re a good friend, Jack. I know that. I just can’t make myself accept that Daniel was cheating on me, even after the banker and that guy in the restaurant said they’d met me before. Even now, now that I’ve seen her clothes, smelt her perfume I still can’t believe it. I want to die, Jack. I want to die and make it all go away!’

  ‘Stop it, Grace. That’s crazy talk. I know it’s hard to turn off your feelings, but Daniel’s not worth your tears.’

  ‘I’m not crying for him, Jack. I’m angry. Angry because I didn’t see what was happening, what sort of person Daniel had become. Maybe the person he always was.’ She wriggled free of his embrace and stepped back. The cool night air fanned her cheeks and calmed her mind. She turned to face him.

  ‘I know the truth now, Jack. He never loved me. Not for a minute. How he must have laughed at my naivety.’

  ‘You’re not naïve, Grace. If you were, you would have accepted the contents of his will without question. As it is, Daniel didn’t deserve to have you as his wife. End of story. Now come on, let’s go back to the house before you catch pneumonia.’ He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her up the beach.

  They reached the dunes when Jack heard the unmistakeable throb of a powerful outboard engine. Swiftly, he pulled Grace into the shadows cast by a Cabbage palm. It wasn’t much protection, but it was all there was. A powerful searchlight swept the beach then settled on the windows of Sand Dollars.

  ‘What—’

  ‘Don’t move,’ he breathed, reaching for his gun once more. He pushed her further into the shadows.

  ‘It looks as if word has got out that Daniel’s widow is back on the island.’ He slipped off the safety and braced his legs, ready to take aim.

  ‘But less than half a dozen people know I’m here,’ she hissed.

  ‘Yeah. Which means one of them is in direct contact with Daniel’s associates.’ He felt her pulse quicken and gooseflesh ripple over her skin where he held her wrist.

  ‘All the more reason to move into a hotel,’ she said softly, and filled her lungs with one deep breath, then another.

  ‘Wrong. All the more reason to stay,’ he whispered.

  ‘But—’

  Jack clamped a hand over her mouth. The engine died. Two more men appeared on deck. Heavily accented voices floated on the wind. One of them turned and shouted something in Spanish.

  Jack held his breath, while the cruiser drifted with the current. He tightened his grip on his gun as the searchlight travelled the length of the house one more time before alighting on the dunes.

  ‘Do you think they saw us?’ Grace whispered.

  ‘If I was them, I’d have seen us.’

  ‘Then we’re in danger,’ she whimpered. ‘We have to go—now!’

  When the searchlight lit up the bushes on Jack’s left, he swung Grace into his arms. His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. ‘Don’t fight me, Grace. This is just for show. I want the guys on the boat to think we’re a couple of sex starved adolescents making out.’

  Grace watched him with a kind of intensity that made his blood heat and his hormones leap. He continued to stroke her back, telling himself he was only soothing her, keeping her calm. He didn’t believe it. His fingertips brushed her cheek and he felt her shiver in response. The need to kiss her, feel her lips on his, sent desire pulsing through his body. He closed his eyes for the space of a long breath and fought an inner battle. Only the imminent threat presented by the men on the boat prevented him from doing what he’d wanted to do six months ago.

  As suddenly as it had stopped, the engine growled into life once more. The searchlight went out and the boat roared off into the darkness.

  Jack waited a few minutes to be sure no one had come ashore then stepped out onto the path.

  ‘Let’s go.’ He kept his arm firmly around Grace’s waist and started running toward the house, but instead of going inside he continued down the drive until he reached his car. He unlocked it, pushed her inside, and handed her the keys.

  ‘Lock the doors. Wait here until I’ve checked the house. If anyone other than me comes drive to the nearest house, pound on the door, and tell whoever answers to call nine-one-one.’

  ‘But I can’t ask a total—’

  ‘I mean it. Don’t ask them. Tell them. Understand?’

  Grace bobbed her head.

  Jack heard the locks click, then turned and climbed the porch steps. The hallway was empty, just as he’d left it. He went through the rooms, one by one, checking the windows, and ensuring the doors were securely locked. Satisfied that no one was in the house, he went back for Grace. By the time he got her inside she was shaking with cold and her skin and taken on a ghostly pallor.

  ‘We need to get you warm,’ he said, and herded her up the stairs and into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet. He tested the water and said a silent pray of thanks to whoever had the foresight to install solar panels.

  ‘Get out of those wet clothes and into the shower. I’ll fix you a drink.’

  Left alone, Grace stripped and stepped into the stream of hot water. While steam swirled around her body the realization that she’d have welcomed Jack’s kiss sent a quiver of heat of a different kind surging through her veins.

  She was grieving and vulnerable, yet the need to be touched and held by a man was so strong that she’d almost given into temptation. She rested her head against the tile. No longer bound by her marriage vows she was free to do as she chose, yet an affair with Jack would be perilous for both of them. While she was free, he wasn’t. He had a wife and a daughter. And no matter how strong the attraction, she couldn’t destroy his marriage and the lives of his wife and child.

  Tears mingled with the flow of water from the shower. She washed them away along with her grief. Jack was right. Daniel didn’t deserve her tears. And this would be the last time she cried for him. From now on she was going to live her life, her way.

  Gradually, her muscles relaxed and the tension of the day seeped away. She stepped out the shower and vigorously rubbed herself dry. A pale green, silk and lace bathrobe hung on the back of the door. She held the fabric to her face. No perfume lingered in the folds. She slipped it on, cinching the belt tightly around her waist.

  She found Jack in the kitchen.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ he said and handed her a steaming cup of coffee.

  She took a sip. The alcohol burned her throat and made her cough.

  ‘This is lethal, what’s in it?’

  ‘Brandy, it was all I could find.’

  ‘Your jeans are wet through, Jack. Why don’t you go and change?’

  ‘I’m a whole lot tougher than you are, Grace. A little cold water won’t do me any harm. Whoever was out there just now, will be back. Keep the drapes closed and stay away from the doors and windows.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit late fo
r precautions?’

  ‘It’s never too late. Besides, I don’t want some drug crazed or trigger happy criminal letting off a shot every time a shadow crosses in front of a window.’

  Grace swallowed her fear, determined that Jack shouldn’t see how rattled she felt. ‘How…how do you know that the people on the boat weren’t teenagers mucking about or fishermen out for a night’s sport?’

  ‘Since when did fish start crawling out of the ocean and waiting on the beach to be caught?’

  Grace went still.

  Jack finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink.

  ‘Look, I’m not trying to frighten you any more than you already are. I’m just telling you how it is. The guys on the boat were interested in two things. Sand Dollars and who might be inside.’

  ‘If it’s so dangerous we should move into a hotel.’

  ‘If we did, we’d never find out who is behind this scam or who killed your husband.’

  Startled by his comments, Grace’s mug clattered down on the counter.

  ‘Daniel’s death was an accident!’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘The police and the coroner. He was driving too fast and lost control of his car.’

  ‘Accidents are easy to fake. Shoot out a tyre, just before a bend and the driver will lose control. Or tamper with the steering, cut a brake cable—the result will be the same—you’re dead.’

  Grace wrapped her arms around herself in defence. She fought the impulse to run out of the door and keep on running.

  ‘You’re…you’re making some rash assumptions.’

  ‘You’re a smart woman, Grace. Way too smart to say that. Do you really think Daniel’s death was an accident after everything that’s happened to you in the last few days?’

  ‘I—’ She chewed on her lower lip, her gaze fixed on him. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Sure you do. And you know something else. The bad guys aren’t going to stop until they get their money back. If that means killing you too, they won’t hesitate, which is why I’m calling Mike and asking for back-up.’

  She looked away. The harder she tried to ignore the truth the more it persisted. She’d asked for Jack’s help. The fact that he was destroying her world tiny piece by tiny piece wasn’t his fault. There was no anger in her voice, just acceptance.

  ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘I need you to put on an act.’

  ‘What sort of act?’

  ‘We take control. You’re the one who has the money. So when they make contact, you tell them you’re not going to hand it over without some guarantees for your safety.’

  ‘And if I don’t get them?’

  ‘Then there’s no deal. Instead, you pass on whatever information we’ve uncovered along with the cash to the government, and we bury you in the witness protection scheme.’

  ‘But won’t they know I’ve talked to the FBI?’

  ‘We’ve been careful. I see no reason why they should.’

  Grace tried to measure the risk rationally. If she walked away chances are she would end up like Daniel, her body broken and crushed beyond recognition. If she stayed her life would still be in danger, but with Jack to protect her, the odds were marginally in her favour.

  ‘It’s your call, Grace. I can have you on a plane and out of the state within the hour. Or you can stay, and we bring Daniel’s killers to justice. The choice is yours.’

  She offered him a bleak, tight light-lipped smile.

  ‘I’ll stay.’

  ‘Good. Mike will have two other agents here by morning. In the meantime, you and I get to share a room.’

  She grasped the collar of the bathrobe and held it tightly against her throat.

  ‘Now just—’

  Jack’s smile was almost apologetic.

  ‘I said share a room, Grace, not a bed. The guest room has two. We’ll sleep in there. That way I can keep you safe.’

  He watched her face as she glanced at the bolts securing the kitchen door. It took her less than a minute to come to the same conclusion he had, that they wouldn’t deter anyone hell bent on breaking in.

  ‘So we stay here, then what?’

  ‘I found a safe in the study. I want to take a closer look at it. Find out what, if anything, is inside. Any idea what the combination might be?’

  ‘It could be anything. Daniel loved numbers and liked to design puzzles.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll try using birthdays—yours, Catherine’s, and Daniel’s. If that doesn’t work I’ll ask Mike to send out a Bureau safe cracker. In the meantime, I suggest we get some sleep. We’ll go and talk to Pete Jacobs, the guy who runs the seaplane charter, in the morning, find out exactly where he took Daniel. And how often.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mike Zupanik’s expression was grim. He’d spent the last three hours bent over his desk going through old files and crime reports searching for any reference to Daniel Elliott, Lionel Lattide and Zachary Parous. So far all he had was a stiff neck and a killer headache.

  According to the passport, Lionel Lattide had passed through immigration five times in the last six months. Apart from the first occasion when he’d stayed for two weeks, his other visits had been relatively short—five days, roughly once every four to six weeks. And the pattern was always the same. He flew direct from London to Miami, spent a day, two at most, in the city then left town, presumably to stay at the house on Gasparilla Island. He met with Parous, his attorney, played a round of golf, ate in the same restaurant each evening and appeared to be a model visitor.

  Yet something about Lattide bothered him.

  Mike extracted a yellow legal pad from his desk and started doodling, a habit he’d developed very early on in his career. The random squiggles helped him relax, clear his mind of all but essential thoughts.

  Something linked Parous and Elliott/Lattide. Parous handled the purchase of the beach house, but was that sufficient reason for the two men to continue to meet? There had to be some other reason. A mutual client perhaps? He could subpoena the attorney’s files and records and compare them with the list of Elliott’s clients, but with so little to go on a judge would laugh him out of the courtroom.

  He needed one tangible clue, one tiny piece of information that would tie the two men together. He continued to doodle. When drawing stick figures brought no fresh ideas he turned to a fresh page on the pad.

  Daniel Elliott/Lionel Lattide

  Mike stared at the two names. He played with the letters, arranging them and re-arranging them. Could it be a simple code, the kind his grandchildren played with? Then it struck him. Both names contained the same letters, just arranged differently. Lionel Lattide was an anagram of Daniel Elliott. But which was the alias and which the real name?

  What’s more, Grace Elliott had told Jack that her husband was an accountant and that he liked puzzles. Daniel Elliott’s passport showed his date of birth as January tenth 1970, but what if he was actually born on October first?

  ‘Diego, get yourself in here.’

  A short, dark man in his mid-thirties stuck his head round the corner of the SAC’s office.

  ‘You wanted me, boss?’

  Clean shaven, and sporting the requisite short, slicked down hair, Alejandro Diego was highly intelligent, quick-witted and diligent, and one of the Bureau’s rising stars. Born in Dulzura on the Mexican border to mixed race parents, he’d joined the US Navy on his eighteenth birthday and spent the next five years in various hot spots around the world. A short stint with the DEA followed, before he signed up with the Bureau. An expert on the Cuban drug trade, he’d settled quickly into the Miami office.

  ‘Take a seat. This Elliott/Lattide,’ Mike tapped the passport in front of him. ‘I’ve got a feeling he had more than two passports or was on his way to getting others.’

  ‘You mean the ‘five flag’ scenario? At least two passports, a safe location for any assets, an offshore tax haven, and still be a bone-fide resident of a country even though he may not spend
much time there.’

  ‘Yeah, that about covers it,’ Mike said. ‘He’s supposedly a British citizen, yet he had an American passport and owned property here. Check with the IRS to see if he’s got a social security number. Then I want you to start checking with our associates in all known tax havens—South America, Aruba, Cayman Islands, Switzerland—the usual places. See if any of them issued him with a passport recently and whether he opened any bank accounts.’

  ‘It won’t be easy. Some of those countries have strict banking laws.’

  Mike shot him a dark glance. ‘If the banks won’t give you the information, put the skills you learned at Quantico to good use and hack into their systems. He had to get that money from somewhere. Jack seems to think Elliott/Lattide was involved in money laundering, but I wonder if it was a Ponzi scheme, one that pays high returns to investors from money put in by subsequent investors.’