Ring of Lies

by Howard, Victoria

  Grace paused at the door. ‘What name did Olivia and Tom give their baby?’

  Catherine’s mind spun. ‘Well. I…I never thought to ask.’

  ‘You didn’t think to ask?’

  ‘Oh come on, Gracie. Give it a rest. We only spoke for a few moments, just long enough for her to tell me you were here.’

  Grace scowled at her. Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the time. Maybe it was Florida and Jack and Daniel’s death and the house and all the things she never wanted conspiring against her thought processes. Catherine was a stranger to her tonight. Maybe she’d always been a stranger. Grace regarded her for a long moment, looking for bits of the freckled little girl she’d nearly raised, the college student she’d supported, the eager young career woman she’d cheered on. Nothing of them remained in the flinty gaze that met her own.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said sternly. ‘I’ll call Olivia myself. I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say. Goodnight.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bill Kennedy squeezed his barrel-chested, six-foot frame into an empty booth at the back of the all night diner and ordered a black coffee. The bored looking redhead who waited on him was clearly counting the minutes until her shift ended so she could close up for the night.

  The place wasn’t to his liking. Whoever owned it was a cheapskate. Half-burned out fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Tears in the old red plastic seats, tables partially cleaned, it was clearly a hangout for truckers and a few tourists desperate to use the bathroom. Only one other booth was occupied. A couple of truckers sat drinking coffee, presumably before spending the night in their rigs in a dark corner of the parking lot.

  The glass door opened and a short, stocky man in a trench coat, limped inside and down the aisle to the booth at the rear of the diner. He wiped the seat with a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table before sliding into the booth opposite Kennedy. He grimaced when his left knee struck the table leg, and shifted into a more comfortable position.

  Kennedy gestured at the coat. ‘Kind of warm for these parts, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t get used to your weather,’ the little man coughed. ‘I don’t know how you stomach it.’

  Kennedy nodded. ‘Doesn’t matter. You made good time.’ In the background the two truckers argued over the quickest route to Miami, the I-75 or the Tamiami trail.

  ‘You said it was urgent.’

  ‘It is,’ Kennedy replied.

  The man grunted and waited while the waitress slapped two mugs of coffee down on the chipped Formica table, and then shuffled back to the counter. He took a swallow, grimaced, and pushed the mug aside.

  ‘If this is so urgent,’ the stocky man said, ‘then how come you had to drag me all the way out here? I’ve got people to see, things to do.’

  Kennedy raised an eyebrow. ‘A girl, no doubt.’

  The other man shrugged. ‘What’s so important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?’

  ‘I’ve found the woman you were asking about.’

  The stranger picked up a knife and ran the blade under his fingernails. ‘And?’

  ‘She turned up at Sand Dollars a couple of hours ago.’ The waitress re-appeared at the table. Kennedy waved her away. ‘My information alone has to be worth at least five grand.’

  ‘Five grand,’ said the little man evenly. ‘So, both sisters are at the house, along with West. How many other agents are present?’

  ‘Me and one other.’

  ‘Armed?’

  Kennedy glared at the man. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I’m guessing standard issue Glocks. What about the house?’

  Kennedy straightened his back. ‘The doors and windows are fitted with an alarm. Control panel is just inside the door.’

  ‘Can you get the code?’

  ‘You don’t need it.’

  The stranger’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. ‘What about the local cops?’

  Kennedy laughed. ‘Predictable. They do a drive by every hour, on the hour.’

  ‘Anything else I should know?’

  ‘The security lights surrounding the house are on sensors and light up when anything larger than a cat passes by. Tell me when you plan on visiting and I’ll make sure they’re de-activated.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll arrange for five thousand—’

  ‘My fee’s just doubled,’ hissed Kennedy.

  ‘—to be transferred to your account in the morning.’

  Kennedy shook his head. ‘Ten thousand. Five’s not enough.

  ‘Still the greedy one, aren’t you, Mr. Kennedy?’

  ‘Think of it as an investment. I’m the one who’s taking all the risk. You’ll make a lot more than that, if you pull this off.’

  ‘You mean when I pull it off, which I will do whether or not you are involved in the enterprise.’ The stranger leaned forward and motioned for Kennedy to do the same. ‘If you’d dealt with things properly in the first place none of this would be necessary,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘As it is, I’ve had to hire someone to clean up this mess. Five thousand, Mr. Kennedy, not a penny more. Take it, and be grateful you’re still alive.’

  Disgruntled, Kennedy eased his large frame out of the booth and headed for the door.

  The stocky man remained seated, his gaze fixed on the retreating bulk of Kennedy as he crossed the parking lot to his car. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and punched a number on his speed dial.

  ‘The man getting into the Ford Taurus,’ he said to Vasquez. ‘Tall, overweight, blue jeans and a white sport shirt. Kill him.’

  ‘That’ll cost more,’ Vasquez replied.

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get paid.’

  ‘When do you want it done?’

  ‘Tonight, before he returns to the island. Make it bloody and brutal. I want the cops to think it’s a revenge killing.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘When you’re finished, call me. I have another job for you.’ He snapped shut his phone and glanced at his watch—plenty of time to keep his next appointment. He slapped a ten-dollar bill down on the table. The bored waitress’ eyes flew open in surprise. Before she could speak, he shuffled toward the exit, a satanic smile spreading across his thin lips.

  Kennedy drove his Government Issue car out of the parking lot and headed west. Thirty seconds later a silver Ford Escape pulled in behind and followed the Taurus onto the highway.

  He smiled, and thought about the addition to his retirement fund. Five thousand wasn’t much, but small payments could easily be passed off as gambling wins and wouldn’t draw the attention of the authorities.

  He laughed out loud. Fifteen years chasing criminals, risking his life day and night, and what did he have to look forward to? A government pension that wouldn’t keep his two ex-wives and daughter in shoes!

  So he’d started his own pension scheme, one that would allow him to lead a comfortable life in whichever tax haven he chose. He’d been careful never to jeopardize the major cases, just a word in the right ear now and again ensured small, but regular payments into his account in the Cayman Islands. There was nothing like working the system, especially when you knew how.

  A flash in the driver’s mirror caught his attention. He straightened his shoulders and wondered what the asshole behind him was playing at. The lights flashed again. Kennedy swore. Perhaps he’d picked up a flat at the diner. He applied gentle pressure to the brake pedal, no point in ruining the tyre, and steered to the side of the road. The Ford pulled in behind.

  Kennedy stuffed the keys of the Taurus into his jeans pocket and eased out of the car. As he bent down to examine the rear wheel, two feet appeared at his side. He looked up at the man standing next to him.

  ‘What the—’

  Two bullets slammed through his chest into his heart. He collapsed to the ground, shuddering, his last thoughts of his daughter, fearing, as the blackness took him away, that someone would tell her the truth about how he died.

  CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jack pushed his chair back from the table as Grace entered the kitchen.

  ‘Pancakes or waffles for breakfast?’ he asked, as he took eggs and milk out of the fridge.

  ‘Neither thanks. I’ll just have a bowl of cereal and a banana, and a cup of that delicious smelling coffee.’

  Jack placed a mug under her nose, slid the jug of milk across the table, and sat down in the chair opposite.

  ‘You and Catherine have an argument last night?’

  Grace shrugged, and took a sip of coffee. ‘Just the usual sisterly difference of opinion. I sometimes think I expect too much of her,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I wish Cat was more dependable and considered her family, instead of always thinking of herself. Perhaps I shouldn’t have indulged her so much after our parents died.’

  ‘She was young. She had to grow up quickly.’

  ‘That’s the trouble. I don’t think she did. Whatever she asked for, I gave her, but it was never enough. I never asked for anything in return. But it would have felt good if she’d put my needs above hers just for once.’

  ‘Don’t you believe the story about her cell phone being stolen?’

  Her face clouded with uneasiness. The spoon paused halfway to her mouth. ‘I’m not sure. A cell phone is like a fashion accessory to Cat. I just don’t see her being without one for very long.’

  Jack glanced at her pale cheeks and dark-ringed eyes, and wished he could scoop her up and take her some place far away. Instead, he settled for wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug.

  ‘From what I understand, Rome is a pickpocket’s paradise. But yeah, it does seem odd that it took so long for her to get in touch with you.’

  Suddenly, the door to the garden creaked open. Jack leapt to his feet and reached for his gun.

  ‘Shit! What is wrong with you? Are you determined to get yourself killed, Anderson?’ He slipped the gun into the holster at the small of his back.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, Jack, but I thought you should know Kennedy is missing. He asked me to cover part of his shift last night. Said he was meeting an informant and would be back in a couple of hours. He never showed up.’

  ‘And you waited until now to tell me?’ Jack stared at Anderson. He’d never seen him so worried. There was nothing of his normal calm, easy-going manner.

  ‘I followed protocol and kept the house under surveillance.’

  ‘What the hell was Kennedy thinking following up a lead at that time of night? Have you tried his cell phone?’

  Anderson looked down. ‘It just runs to voicemail, so it’s switched off or the battery’s dead, or—’

  ‘—Let’s not go there right now,’ Jack said, casting a glance in Grace’s direction. ‘Did he give any indication who this informant was or where they were meeting?’

  ‘No. But he seemed jumpy, on edge.’

  Jack blew out one long breath. This went against Kennedy’s reputation for being ice-calm in any situation.

  ‘Here’s how we’ll handle it. You get a trace put on his car. Could be he got tired and pulled off the road for a nap, so make sure they check the parking lots at the state parks.’

  Anderson cleared his throat. ‘You know, the night before Pete Jacobs died, a couple of residents saw a black Saab drive past Jacobs’ office a few times. Unfortunately, none of them got details of the license plate. But one resident, an old guy with two poodles, recalls a young man in black, carrying a gym bag at around ten-thirty. He thought it was strange because the community centre gym closes at six. Then we got a report on a black Saab convertible being stolen from Miami airport that same afternoon.’

  ‘Where is it now?’

  ‘Abandoned the next morning in Tampa. You think there’s a connection?’

  Jack nodded slowly. ‘Good work, Anderson. Contact the local cops and see if they managed to pull any prints off the Saab. Then get some rest.’

  Anderson turned to leave. ‘Okay. Any news on Mike’s condition?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘Still in intensive care, last I heard.’

  Anderson left, and Grace looked at Jack for a long moment. ‘You think something bad has happened to Kennedy, don’t you?’

  Jack laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I won’t lie to you, Grace. I think the bad guys are escalating their efforts, hoping to scare you into handing over the money. This is exactly why you should let me put you on a plane to Hawaii with a couple of muscle-bound bodyguards.’

  Grace covered his hand with hers. ‘We’ve been through this before. I’m not going anywhere, Jack. I will not be bullied by these people.’

  ‘Not even if your life is in danger?’

  ‘Daniel put me in danger the day he died. Maybe even before then, come to think of it. It doesn’t mean I’m not afraid. I am. But I don’t see that Kennedy’s apparent disappearance makes any difference, do you?’

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘I could force you—’

  Grace smiled thinly. ‘But you won’t, for the simple reason you’ll be by my side twenty-four/seven.’

  ‘You got that right.’ He cupped his hands around her face and lowered his mouth gently to hers intending the kiss to be reassuring, but something primitive coursed through his veins. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, devouring its softness. He lifted his mouth from Grace’s and smiled.

  ‘How about we continue this upstairs?’ He nuzzled her neck, tasting her skin. Then his phone rang.

  ‘Are you going to answer that?’ Grace mumbled.

  ‘I’m trying to ignore it.’

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ he sighed. He snatched his cell phone off the table and examined the screen. ‘It’s Diego. I’ll take this in the office.’ He strode out of the room before answering the call.

  ‘I checked with Homeland Security like you asked,’ Diego said. ‘Catherine Peterson passed through immigration at Atlanta three days ago. But get this: her passport is Irish, not British.’

  The last of Jack’s good humour vanished. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. What’s more, she used the same passport to rent a grey Chevy Aveo.’

  ‘Can you fax over a copy?’

  ‘Sure. Anything else?’

  ‘Any luck with the video from the airport?’

  ‘Yeah. The tech guys pulled an image off the tapes. They faxed a copy to Mike. Chrissie found it in his briefcase and handed it over this morning. I’ll fax it, along with the passport. The number on the piece of paper Grace found—turns out it’s a Swiss Bank Account. I’ve contacted the Swiss Authorities and asked them to investigate.’

  ‘And speak to Cody at the First Apopka Bank. Elliott had an ATM card. It wasn’t with the items returned to Grace. I want to know if it’s been handed in or whether anyone tried to use it in the last day or so, and if so, where.’

  ‘And there’s another thing,’ said Diego. ‘The medical examiner finished the autopsy on the guy in the Everglades and managed to get pretty clear prints. We also pulled some prints off the pick-up he was driving. Forensics ran them through AFIS—the automated fingerprint identification system. We’ve got a match for a Hector Suárez.’

  Jack’s gut clenched. ‘Suárez?’

  ‘Yeah. His brother, Estefan is serving life for the murder of a rival gang member and drug trafficking. There are two other brothers and a sister, all of whom are known to us.’

  ‘Shit. I worked on that task force.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be pleased to see you then, Jack.’

  ‘Not likely.’

  ‘But you think he’s got nothing to do with this investigation?’

  ‘Not a chance. Any news on the second autopsy on Elliott?’

  ‘Nothing new so far.’

  ‘Okay, Diego. Keep pushing the crime lab. I want to know the name of the woman who got off the plane with Elliott. In the meantime, Grace and I will pay a visit to Pete Jacob’s secretary and see if we can ac
cess his files. Find out who owns that island.’

  ‘You be careful, Jack. Stay alive.’

  ‘I’m not dying yet, Diego. I’ve got loads to live for. Just one of the many reasons you want to grow up to be just like me, right?’