Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  The storm passed on, but Grace found it impossible to sleep. She rolled over, and deliberately shut Jack out of her mind, preferring instead to wonder if Olivia had her baby. But thinking of babies focused her mind once more on Jack, and made her question why he hadn’t told her about his wife and daughter.

  Outside, palm trees rustled in the lingering breeze, a sliver of moonlight filtered through the gap in the drapes. As her eyelids grew heavy with sleep, it was Jack she dreamed of, not Daniel.

  The following morning, evidence of the ferocity of the storm lay all around. Two large planters had blown over spilling their contents on to the decking. Leaves and palm fronds littered the footpaths.

  Grace glanced at pink bracts from the bougainvillea floating on the surface of the pool.

  ‘The garden’s a mess. It will take months to recover.’ She picked up a fallen rose and dropped the bruised and torn bloom into the trash.

  ‘That was just a tropical storm,’ Jack replied, as he followed her through the garden toward his car. ‘You should see first-hand the damage a hurricane causes.’

  ‘I’d rather not. Do you think Pete Jacobs will risk flying in this wind?’

  ‘Those seaplanes are robust, but I guess it will depend on what it’s certified for.’

  The drive into town took only minutes. The local eateries, normally bustling with the early lunchtime crowd, were half empty. As they drove along Bayou Street past the island’s public dock, Grace caught a glimpse of a white seaplane with red stripes slowly taxiing toward the mouth of the inlet and open water.

  ‘Isn’t that Jacobs’ plane?’

  Jack slowed just long enough to lean over and peer out of the passenger window. ‘Sure looks like it. He’s probably refuelled at the marina and is heading back to the dock to pick up passengers.’

  Grace continued to watch the plane. The rudder flicked from side-to-side. The wing flaps lowered.

  ‘I think you’re wrong. I think he’s preparing to take off.’

  Jack cast a glance at the ocean. There was a slight swell, but no white-topped waves. He hit the gas pedal and headed for the empty lot adjacent to a bridge. Milliseconds later, the Explorer skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust. Grace threw open the door and leapt out of the passenger seat before Jack pulled on the parking brake. She hit the ground and ran to the water’s edge.

  But it was too late.

  As the seaplane reached open water, Jacobs clearly visible behind the windshield, opened the throttle. The engine pitch increased, the plane gathered momentum, a small wake forming under the floats. As the nose tilted up, the floats lifted clear of the water, and the plane rose gracefully into the air. Grace shielded her eyes and watched it gain height, then bank to the right.

  Suddenly, a blinding light burst from the engine compartment. An instant later, the fuselage shattered by a thunderous explosion, turned the small plane into a fireball. The concussion reverberated through the air until it faded into the distance like a retreating thunderclap. Flocks of terrified pelicans and gulls took to the air in a screaming, whirling brown and white mass.

  Immobile, Grace watched part of a wing spiral down and slammed into the sea. It was followed seconds later by a section of the tail. Jack ran across the empty lot, threw her to the ground and shielded her body with his, as pieces of the shattered seaplane rained down.

  For a few seconds a tense silence filled the air.

  Then people started streaming out of houses and the local inn to stare at the twisted, charred metal and burning aviation fuel floating on the ocean. In the distance, a fire truck’s siren wailed.

  ‘We’ve…got…’ Grace swallowed hard against the fear and concentrated on breathing, her ears still ringing from the explosion.

  Jack helped Grace to her feet and wiped the dust from her face. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight.

  ‘Easy, Grace. There’s nothing you can do.’

  ‘But—’ She turned away from him to stare at the ocean, its surface a burning caldron.

  ‘Grace, don’t.’ He caught her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. ‘No one could have survived that blast, least of all Pete Jacobs.’

  Horrified and helpless, she began to shake. ‘Do…do you think it was an accident?’

  ‘Even though his business was in financial trouble, by all accounts, Jacobs was a stickler for maintenance. I’m no expert, but I’d say that was an explosive device of some kind.’

  Grace felt the colour drain from her face. Jack’s words tore at her heart. She closed her eyes, but could still see the image of the burning plane. The world spun, her knees buckled. Tears streamed down her face.

  ‘Oh my God. Jacobs. Parous. They would still be alive if I had stayed at home and sold the house.’ She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream begging for release.

  ‘Jacobs knew what he was getting into, just as I’m sure Elliott did. And if you had sold the house, whoever’s behind this scam would still come after you.’

  She was about to argue, but he was right. But that didn’t stop her feeling guilty.

  ‘I can’t do this anymore, Jack. I can’t be responsible for any more deaths.’

  ‘None of this is your fault, Grace. You know that. I know you’re having trouble believing that just now, but it’s true. Focus on the one thing that matters, bringing Elliott’s killer to justice before you become his next victim. Let’s get out of here.’

  Empty and drained, fatigue settled in dark rings under Grace’s eyes. Every now and again a whimper escaped her lips and her body trembled, as she relived the images and sensations of the last few hours.

  Jack ignored the speed limit and drove in the outside lane of the freeway. Once they reached the city limits, he adjusted his speed to match the heavy traffic where every driver jostled for position in the usual stop-go chaos.

  Aroused from the numbness that weighed her down, Grace yawned and looked out of the window at the skyscrapers glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. She felt hot and dirty, and longed for a shower to cleanse her body and soul of the death and lies that had become her life.

  ‘I thought you were asleep,’ Jack said.

  ‘The change in momentum woke me up. Where are we?’ she asked, straightening her shoulders and finger combing her dishevelled hair.

  ‘About five minutes away from headquarters.’

  Grace’s hands clenched.

  ‘Stop worrying, Mike isn’t going to blame you for Jacobs’s death.’

  Her head snapped round to look at him. ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because he’s a good agent. He examines the facts, all of them, before making a judgement.’

  Grace looked at him for a long moment. Nothing he said made her feel better.

  He drove into the parking lot reserved for Federal employees, and took his ID out of his jeans and slipped it, badge out, in the pocket of his shirt.

  ‘Ready?’ he said to Grace as they entered the building.

  ‘You make it sound as if I’m about to be arrested.’

  Jack smiled. ‘Don’t be scared. Mike’s only going to ask you some more questions, just be honest with him.’

  ‘I have been honest with him and look what’s happened. There’s nothing more I can tell him, Jack.’

  He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Then there’s no need to feel apprehensive.’

  They found Mike Zupanik in his office, but he wasn’t alone. ‘Jack. Grace. Take a seat. I’ve asked Agent Diego to join us. He’s come up with some interesting information.’

  ‘Mike, you ought to know that Pete Jacobs died this morning.’

  ‘Jesus, Jack. How’d it happen?’

  ‘His plane exploded on take-off. It didn’t look like an accident.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘We were there.’

  Mike switched his attention to Grace. ‘Seems folk have a habit of dying after you meet them. Makes me wonder if you’ve come here to clean up for wh
oever’s behind this scam.’

  Grace jumped to her feet. The look on her face said she was scared.

  And angry.

  ‘How dare you accuse me of…what exactly are you accusing me of, Mr. Zupanik?’

  Mike met her cool stare. ‘Sit down, Grace. I’m merely making an observation, that’s all.’

  Grace glanced at Jack, but his face was unreadable. She’d asked for his help, but she didn’t have to sit here and be insulted by his boss. She could walk away whenever she wanted.

  Or could she?

  Images of Pete Jacobs’ burning plane filled her mind. If she left now his death would remain on her conscience for the rest of her life. She slumped down into the chair and buried her face in her hands. It took her several minutes to regain her composure. When she lifted her head it was to find Mike Zupanik regarding her with impassive coldness.

  ‘Parous and Jacobs deaths are more than a coincidence.’

  ‘Explain, Jack.’

  ‘There are three possibilities. Either Grace was followed here. Someone was worried that Parous and Jacobs would talk, and is sending a message to everyone else involved, or someone inside the Bureau is leaking information.’

  Mike glanced at Diego. ‘Have the airlines come up with the passenger manifests yet?’

  Diego shook his head. ‘We’re still waiting on them.’

  ‘Then start kicking butt. I want them on my desk within twenty-four hours. In the meantime, nothing said here goes beyond these four walls. Understood? Now, Diego, why don’t you fill Jack and Grace in on what you’ve found out so far?’

  Diego consulted his notes. ‘Until eight months ago, Lionel Lattide didn’t exist. There’s no record of him owning property or filing taxes, and he’s never been issued with a drivers’ licence. I’m waiting to hear back from the banks regarding any accounts he may have held. And so far, there’s no record of him owning a cell phone.’

  ‘So the passport is a fake,’ Jack said.

  ‘Almost certainly,’ Diego replied. ‘But the details on Elliott’s passport are legit, but here’s the kicker. He died when he was six months old.’

  ‘That’s impossible, you’re lying,’ shouted Grace. Icy fear slid down her backbone. ‘I’ve seen photographs of Daniel as a child with his parents.’

  ‘They may have been his parents, but their name wasn’t Elliott. The British authorities checked the birth certificate he produced with his passport application against death certificates and found that Daniel Elliott died in February 1971.’

  Diego handed Grace a sheaf of papers. She knew her hand trembled, but there was nothing she could do about it. She carefully read the contents, not once, but twice.

  ‘Then I don’t understand how his passport can be authentic.’

  ‘It’s a common ruse used by criminals. They trawl through graveyards until they find the headstone of an infant who died when they were only a few months old. They order a copy of the birth certificate. Once they’ve received that, they can apply for a social security number, drivers’ licence, passport—anything to make them appear a bone fide citizen,’ Jack told her.

  Biting her lip, Grace looked away. Jack had confirmed what she already suspected. Her marriage, like everything else about her life of the last ten years was nothing but a lie. When she turned and faced the three men in the room none of them mentioned the tear tracks on her face.

  ‘If Daniel Elliott is another alias, just who is my husband?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Mike, ‘which leads me to my next question. Did you identify his body following the accident?’

  Grace shuddered. ‘Daniel was badly disfigured, so Shaun, his business partner did that.’

  ‘Any chance he could have been mistaken?’

  ‘Daniel and Shaun were partners. They’d worked together for over ten years. Besides, Daniel’s briefcase was found in the car, along with his wallet.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean the body in the car was his.’

  Disconcerted, Grace crossed her arms and looked away. ‘But if it wasn’t Daniel, who was it?’

  ‘That’s what the British police are about to find out. They’ve applied for an exhumation order.’

  Barely able to control her gasp of surprise, Grace turned to Jack. ‘Did you know about this?’

  Jack’s hand closed over hers, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin at her wrist.

  ‘No, but it makes sense. It’s the only way to find out Elliott’s true identity.’

  Grace wanted to argue. She couldn’t. ‘Do you think the order will be granted?’

  Mike relaxed. ‘I think there’s sufficient evidence.’

  ‘In that case, tell me what you need me to do,’ said Grace.

  ‘Nothing, we don’t even need your permission, Grace. The undertaker can identify the body, so you don’t need to be present. The pathologist will take samples of DNA for analysis, and compare his findings with samples on national and international databases. That could tell us who Elliott really is and whether he had a previous criminal record.’

  Jack handed Mike a paper bag containing the cigarette stubs. ‘These might help. I found them in the trashcan at the house. It might be possible to extract DNA from the saliva to enable us to identify who smoked them.’

  Mike leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s worth a try, I guess. What else have you got for us, Diego?’

  ‘Elliott made regular calls to Parous and Associates from both his office in England and the house on Gasparilla Island. He also called the First Apopka Bank on the first Thursday of each month. His calls were routed through the switchboard, so we have no idea who he spoke to, but my guess is Cody, the guy handling his account.’

  ‘What about the calls from the attorney’s office?’ Mike asked.

  ‘We’re still checking the numbers,’ replied Diego. ‘Parous had a gambling habit, and frequented the ‘Golden Dollar’ owned by José Mendez. Word on the street is that Mendez is a front man for the Fuentes family, but we’ve been unable to confirm that.’

  ‘Did he owe any money?’

  ‘A few grand. I checked with the Bar Association, one of his clients made a complaint recently about misappropriation of funds. The allegation was dismissed for lack of evidence.’

  Mike inclined his head toward Jack. ‘Anything you want to add?’

  ‘Elliott’s laptop, and a list of his clients.’ Jack placed it on the desk, along with a copy of the fax he received from Daniel’s secretary. ‘Grace couldn’t get it to work. The battery is dead.’

  ‘Diego, get this over to the computer analysis response team. Let’s see if they can recover anything from the hard drive. Anything else I should know about?’

  ‘I found a notebook in the safe, but it’s written in some sort of code. Grace has come up with a few theories about what it contains, but I’d like to hold on to it for the time being.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘I’m betting sooner or later someone will come looking for it.’

  ‘In that case, let’s get it copied, and get the rest of the team working on it. Then I want you and Grace to return to the island tonight.’

  Jack and Grace stood to leave. They got no further than the door when Mike called out. ‘Diego, get Grace some coffee, I need a word with Jack in private.’

  Grace cast a glance at Jack, as if seeking his consent. When he made no movement, she followed Diego out of the office.

  Mike waited until the door shut behind them. ‘Go and see Rosa before you leave Miami.’

  ‘There’s no time, not if you want us back at Sand Dollars tonight.’

  ‘Chrissie called at the condo. She’s worried about Emilia, doesn’t think Rosa is coping very well on her own.’

  ‘And you think seeing me will make a difference?’

  ‘Can’t do any harm.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mike. We didn’t part on the best of terms, and if Rosa catches sight of Grace she’ll freak out. There’s no telling what she might do.’

>   ‘Then leave Grace here. Diego can show her some mug shots. Just an hour, Jack, that’s all I’m asking, otherwise I’ll pull you off the investigation.’

  Jack stared at the wall above his SAC’s head, his brows drawn together in a frown. Emilia was his daughter, his responsibility. Grace needed his protection. Yet he couldn’t in all consciousness leave Emilia with a woman who cared little for her wellbeing.