by J W Becton
“There were threats?” Tripp asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Of abduction?”
“No, nothing of that nature,” I hurried to assure him. “Eddie apparently threatened Dr. Keller’s reputation as a physician. There were no threats of violence against Keller or his family.”
“But we should have been more diligent, given the scope of the ring,” Vincent said. “We don’t know what kind of thugs may be involved.”
I was right. Vincent blamed himself.
“We haven’t located the vehicle,” Starnes said, “so that leaves us at loose ends for the moment. The press is going to be sticking as close to us as a tick on a dog’s ass, so we can’t investigate the fraud angle with any sort of discretion. I suppose you’re not quite ready to blow your covers.”
I shrugged.
“That portion of the investigation is at an end,” Vincent said.
“Besides, we’d don’t exactly have a choice,” I said, glancing sideways at him.
“The MPD is proposing to hook up with the DOI on this,” Tripp said. “You two game?”
The question hardly required a response, and the four of us went on to discuss exactly how to proceed. Vincent and I would have another talk with Dr. Keller and continue searching for the identity of the fraud ring’s leader, in the hopes that she might have some connection to the kidnapping. We would also question Wohl and Fallsworthy. Meanwhile, the MPD would sift through the incoming tips from the Amber alert, try to locate the vehicle, and search for new leads on the abductor.
Our assignments made, the four of us spilled into the hallway. I intended to walk the detectives to the reception area, but Tripp grasped my wrist.
“Jules,” he said, leaning down closer to my ear, “a word?”
I nodded, cutting my eyes to Vincent, who shook hands with both detectives and turned on his heel to face me.
“I’ll set up a meeting with Keller,” he said. “He probably won’t be of much use as far as locating his daughter, but we need to let him know that we are part of the investigation.”
“Then we’ll start tracking down Fallsworthy and Wohl.”
Vincent nodded, already disappearing back into the conference room.
Ready for action, I thought as I watched him retreat.
“Starnes,” Tripp said, breaking into my thoughts, “give me ten minutes.”
I turned back to the detectives in time to see Starnes give Tripp a hard look and then grunt, “Fine, but I’m waiting at reception. Not gonna freeze my butt in the car.”
Tripp rolled his eyes and followed me upstairs to my office.
Over my shoulder, I asked, “Doesn’t Starnes know he could keep the heat on if the engine’s idling?”
“Starnes is an ass,” Tripp said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he’d just said the sky was blue or cows eat grass. “He just wants me to remember the clock is ticking. As if I could forget.”
“Subtle,” I said as I sat in my office chair and gestured for Tripp to take one of the guest seats.
Out of habit, I glanced at my laptop to find that Carla Sumler, the independent adjuster, had emailed her cost estimate. While Tripp propped himself on the corner of my desk, I took a quick peek and found that the estimate seemed within reason.
I closed the email. We now had more pressing matters than automotive fraud to pursue. We had moved on to kidnapping.
Tripp cleared his throat and leaned toward me.
“Orr County PD arrested Slidell last night.”
I sat back, surprised at the suddenness of his pronouncement. Of course, Starnes had the meter running, so Tripp couldn’t afford to waste time with chitchat.
“You arrested Slidell,” I repeated, not quite believing it had actually happened.
“Yes, your hunch was right. Marnie is a nickname for Margaret Jacobs, and Slidell’s been living with her. He’s in custody in Orr County now.”
“He’s been fingerprinted?”
“Yes, but you know print analysis takes time, Jules.”
“I know.”
“And DNA takes more. We’re going to take our time, do everything by the book, make sure the tests are all correct. This needs to be done right, for Tricia,” he reminded me.
“Yeah,” I said, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would clear my mind. That meant I could no longer put off what I’d been avoiding, the part where I changed everyone’s lives for better or worse.
I just wished I knew which way it was going to go.
I felt as if I were in a fog. Too much had happened in the last hour: word of Sasha’s abduction and now this. If I were going to make it, I would have to compartmentalize.
First Sasha.
Then Slidell.
Twenty-one
Stowing the kid in his own place, even temporarily, made Lacarova vulnerable. By now, the cops had definitely been called, and they would have those damn alerts out on the news. It would be all over the radio, cell phone alerts, skywriting.
Hell, for all he knew, one of those teenagers might have seen him, might have written down the car’s license plate, might even have the whole thing on video and posted on the Internet by now. He couldn’t know for sure.
But one thing he did know was that if the word was out that the kid had been abducted and not struck down by a car, then the boss wouldn’t waste any time in coming straight over to light him on fire.
Probably literally.
God knows what she might do to the girl, and he hadn’t gone to all this trouble to get her killed now.
He cringed and turned back to the blue Integra that he’d used to snatch Sasha. The thing didn’t belong to him; he couldn’t remember whose it was, but it didn’t really matter. He knew it had come into the shop on the work-release program. He was supposed to have stripped it and abandoned it on the side of a road somewhere so that the owner could report it stolen and then collect the insurance money, a hefty portion of which would have come his way.
As a bonus, he could have sold the stripped parts, and that nitrous system would be worth a bundle.
Too bad.
Profiting from the job was out of the question now. He didn’t have time to part it out, not if he wanted to live through this. He had to find a way to make sure the boss went down for her crimes, and then he had to get out of town, make a fresh start.
However, he’d probably done the vehicle’s owner a big favor.
The guy could not only report it stolen, but it would be impounded since it was used in an abduction. He might get a serious wad of cash from his insurance company, and he’d probably deserve the extra compensation once he got dragged in for questioning in conjunction with the girl’s kidnapping.
Lacarova made quick work of wiping his prints from the car and then stood back to assess his work as he slipped on a pair of cloth gloves. Really was a shame to leave that nitrous system.
But he left it alone.
Next step? Dump the whole thing.
He had just settled himself behind the wheel of the car when he realized he had a problem. If he was going to dump the car, he needed a ride home.
Crap.
Basically, he had two choices: Eddie and Tammy.
Eddie was out. Not only had he not come into work that day, but there was also that little incident where Lacarova had helped the boss torture him with a heated length of pipe. Eddie was probably more focused on revenge than helping him out of a tight spot. The guy couldn’t be trusted.
That left Tammy. Well, Tammy was a power-hungry whore, pure and simple. She’d turn on her own mother if it meant she got paid two cents more, and he had always suspected that she envied his position as the boss’s go-to lackey. If she found out he’d double-crossed the boss, she’d squeal and usurp his place in the organization. The gal couldn’t be trusted either.
Crap.
Picking up his cell, he dialed Eddie; he was the lesser of two evils.
When Eddie answered, Lacarova got straight to business. “Got a job for you.”
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There was a pause before Eddie answered.
“Not sure I’m interested.”
Lacarova’s eyes narrowed as he decided which approach to take.
“You’d better damn well get interested,” he said, feeling no remorse at letting Eddie believe the boss had sanctioned this. “The boss is still awful pissed about the situation with the doc.”
“She say something?” Eddie squeaked and then cleared his throat.
Best not to answer that one directly, Lacarova thought. He hadn’t spoken to the boss since he’d snatched the girl. And he really didn’t want that to change.
Lacarova let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before saying, “You wouldn’t want me to tell the boss that you didn’t do your part. That you tried to screw her over. Again. You know how she is, what she’ll do.”
Another long pause during which Eddie was probably weighing the benefits of getting off the boss’s shit list and the potential rewards of getting back into her good graces.
“Fine, what do I have to do?”
Lacarova smiled. If he played his cards right, Eddie would never find out about the girl. He’d just assume this was one of their normal strip-and-dumps.
He arranged to meet Eddie at a rural gas station. They’d dump the car somewhere nearby, and then Eddie would drop him at the garage. He’d play it just like they usually did in these scenarios. Eddie wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Twenty-two
Steven Keller stood before Vincent and me with his feet spread wide as if to block our entrance to the open front door behind him. His tight-jawed expression revealed that he did not relish the idea of talking to another set of cops, especially those of us who were supposed to ensure that his undercover work for the DOI remained covert.
I smiled at him, trying to convey sympathy and understanding, because I truly knew what it was like to be forced to recount the same traumatic story time and again. I’d experienced it when Tricia was raped and again after I’d been forced to take a life in the course of my duties at the DOI. Even though I understood how important it was that the story be made clear and consistent to the authorities, that didn’t make the retelling any more pleasant.
“Hello, Dr. Keller,” I said, grasping his hand and giving it a squeeze as I identified myself and Vincent, in case he was suffering from LEO overload and had forgotten us.
About a dozen marked and unmarked cars lined the street in front of his house. He had undoubtedly seen enough cops today to make us all blend together.
“I know you’ve already seen your share of law enforcement officers,” I said, “but we were hoping you might have a few moments to speak with us.”
Apparently, Dr. Keller was not too distracted to remember who we were and who our boss was. He broke in, asking, “That prick Insley with you?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, shaking my head. “Special Agent Insley is in Atlanta and was unable to be here, but he sent us on his behalf and on behalf of the Department of Insurance.”
“Asshole,” Dr. Keller muttered.
Of course, he didn’t believe that legitimate work matters had detained Ted, but he was wrong. Ted was still in Atlanta when I called to inform him of Sasha’s abduction, and he had sent us in his place. He was on his way back now.
Resigned to our intrusion, Dr. Keller opened his stance, nodding to indicate that Vincent and I should go inside the house, and escorted us into a living room furnished with matching brown tweed sofas. The window shades were still drawn, like a house in mourning, and I barely managed to sidestep a video game controller that was sprawled on the floor by the TV.
“That’s Sasha’s,” he said. “She never puts them away.”
He stood there, rooted to the floor, staring at the controller.
Gently, I took his elbow, steering him to one of the couches.
“How is your wife?” I asked, looking around, hoping she might join us.
“Clair’s holding her own,” he said.
“Is she aware of your role as a DOI informant?” Vincent asked.
Dr. Keller nodded curtly.
“I had to tell her. After what happened to Sasha…. She knows everything.”
I surmised that he and his wife weren’t on the best of terms at the moment, given that he had apparently confessed his insurance fraud to her and his crime was likely what made his daughter a candidate for abduction.
Dr. Keller sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and then leaned up again.
“Clair’s not up to being interrogated again, and frankly, neither am I,” he said.
Until this point, my partner had remained silent, and based on his erect posture and stiff carriage, I thought his silence was probably a wise course of action. For him, this was hell.
And it was for me too.
All I could think was that Vincent and I had jeopardized an undercover assignment, and we should have taken Keller’s mention of threats more seriously. Now, a child was separated from her family, her life in danger. It didn’t matter what I said, how I told myself that no specific threats had actually been made, or how often I reminded myself that the DOI was not a bodyguard service. It didn’t seem to matter that Keller was Ted’s responsibility or that the doctor had known and accepted the risk when he came to us.
None of that mattered to me. Or to Vincent.
From behind me, Vincent finally spoke, his tone modulated, but just barely so.
“Sir, we’re not here to interrogate anyone. We’re here because we intend to do everything we can to bring Sasha home.”
Dr. Keller’s jaw clenched, and his right hand curled into a fist. For a moment, I thought he might lash out at us.
This was a Southern gentleman affronted, and to him, harming his child meant immunity from punishment for any form of retribution he might inflict.
Well, maybe not full immunity, but people would sure understand if he took a swing at the cops he blamed for his daughter’s disappearance.
“You said I would be safe if I helped,” Keller said, sarcasm discoloring his usually placid voice. “Now you say you’ll bring my baby back from her abductor. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Vincent found the words first.
“You’re right, Dr. Keller. Unfortunately, we can’t guarantee a happy outcome, but I can promise you that we will not give up.”
I looked at my partner and knew he meant what he said.
Vincent continued, “We’re also here to explore the possibility that Sasha’s abduction happened in connection with the fraud ring.”
“Possibility?” Keller snorted.
“Probability,” Vincent amended.
“When we spoke earlier, you mentioned that a man you know as Eddie had made threats on behalf of someone else,” I said, not in the mood for a game of semantics. “Did something happen since then? Something that might have caused the abduction to take place when it did?”
Keller stood and began to pace in front of the sofa.
“I don’t know.”
His pacing increased in speed and he started rubbing his palms through his hair, along his face. His eyes were darting wildly around.
“I don’t know!” he repeated.
I stood, blocking his path, and lifted a hand to his arm, hoping to calm him, to stifle his emotional escalation.
“Please sit down, Dr. Keller, and try to relax. I know it’s difficult, but we need you to be clearheaded so we can figure out how to help you in the best way possible.”
For a moment, Dr. Keller looked as if he wanted to blacken my other eye, but he sat down, dropping his head into his hands. He remained in that position for long moments before finally scrubbing his face roughly and saying, “No, nothing happened. I took the week off, just like you said to, and then you were here on Wednesday. That’s all that happened. I haven’t had any contact with Eddie.”
“Did anyone else contact you since we last spoke? Mary Fallsworthy?” I asked.
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nbsp; “No, no one has contacted me at all. Not before they took Sasha and not since.”
“And you went to play golf this morning?” I asked softly.
“Yes, goddammit!” he practically shouted. “I was playing golf while my child was being kidnapped.”
“Sir,” I said with deliberate calm, hoping to influence him. “That wasn’t an accusation. I just wanted to know the locations of each of your family members. Where was your wife?”
“Work. She’s upstairs now.”
“And you hired a babysitter?”
“Yes, Sasha’s school is closed the rest of the week, and most of the neighborhood kids were home.”
“Why didn’t you call the DOI immediately,” Vincent asked, “if you suspected the abduction was connected to our investigation?”
“Dammit, I don’t know,” Dr. Keller said, his voice raised. “Maybe because you assholes are the reason this happened to begin with!”
Vincent flinched, and I blinked, more in surprise at my partner’s reaction than at Keller’s tone. Vincent never flinched.
“Sir,” I said, “we understand your anger, but—”
“Steven, who are these people?” a female voice asked from behind me.
I turned to find the person I presumed to be Clair Keller hovering in the doorway, her gaze bouncing between Vincent and me.
I stood and approached her slowly, producing my badge and holding it out for her to see.
“Special Agent Julia Jackson, ma’am,” I said, then nodded at Vincent. “And my partner, Special Agent Mark Vincent. We’re with the Georgia Department of Insurance.”
I offered my badge to the slight, blond woman. She took it, turned it over in her fingers, and handed it back without even looking at it.
“You’re here about…what happened?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. We’d like to help sort out what took place and make things right,” I said.
“Can things be made right?” she asked me, her focus shifting to her husband, who refused to meet her eyes. “After what he did….”
