Chasing Their Losses

by Lucia Sinn

  Eric squeezed two slices down the bottle neck and took a long pull, “I was in Austin, doing a gig. She went out to San Diego, met him in some bar. They started fucking their eyes out that same day.”

  “You should have called us. We could have taken care of him.”

  “At the time, I didn’t really care that much.” Eric twirled around and looked out over the horizon. Along the seawall, he saw a freighter heading for Port Isabel. The sky was very blue, and the ocean frothy with waves. Damn, he wished he were surfing. And he wished Gail hadn’t dumped him. The old man had liked her, and that had made his life a lot easier.

  “So, did you ever meet this new husband of hers?” Bud asked.

  “A couple times. Dad checked him out. His family owns an insurance agency. But he hangs out in Vegas. He may be good in the sack but when it comes to cards, he’s a heavy loser.”

  “Gail know about that?”

  “I have no idea. But I know one thing, if the money runs out, she’ll leave him. She’s high maintenance.” Eric drained the last of the Corona which gave him about as much buzz as a can of soda pop. He was seriously thinking about a shot of tequila when his cell phone rang.

  As soon as he picked up, Tim said. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “How about the cash?”

  “I have it.”

  “Nice and clean, right? No dye packets, no numbered bills. I’ll be checking for that before you get the kid back.”

  “Where’s Doug? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “No, I don’t think so. You already talked to him once. You won’t hear his voice again, or see him up close, until I have the money in my hands and I’m in a place where I can’t be found. If it turns out you’re double crossing me, all I have to do is signal my partners and Doug’s dead.”

  “All right then. Let’s get this over with as soon as possible. Where shall we leave the money?” Eric reached for a pen and notepad at the end of the bar. Although his hand was trembling, he jotted down abbreviated directions.

  Tim’s nasal twang made him difficult to understand. “At ten tonight, drive toward the dunes until the road comes to an end. Park your car, then walk north along the beach for about a mile. Bring along a flashlight. You’ll see a big yellow plastic milk carton stuck in the sand with a broom handle sticking out of it. That’s the landmark. The minute you see that, turn left and walk on a straight path up into the dunes. There will be coke cans marking your way. At the top of that dune, you’ll look down and see a smooth flat place, overlooking the bay. Leave the money there, in a red cooler.”

  Eric’s throat constricted, his voice breaking. “I won’t leave anything unless I see Doug.”

  “Doug will be further on down, standing on top of another dune. I’ll shine my flashlight so that you can see he’s all right. But my gun will be on him and my partners will have him surrounded. If anything goes wrong….”

  “Everything will be just as you say. I’ll see you at ten in the dunes.”

  The phone went dead. Eric held it in his hand, and realized his own tears had made it slippery. The two men regarded him with expressions of disdain. He could see himself in their eyes: a weak blubbering fool.

  “I suppose I didn’t handle that too well?” he asked

  “It was fine,” Bud said. “You got the directions didn’t you?”

  “I think so.”

  “All right. Let’s go over them while it’s all still fresh in your mind.”

  “But I’m going to do what he said, right? You said you could get the cash if you needed it. I think we should drop the money off up in the dunes, like he wants. I hope you guys aren’t planning to come with me.”

  “Nah, we’ll leave early, in a camper. Like we’re going fishing. We’ll park along the beach. When it gets dark, we’ll sneak up to where you’re supposed to meet. Plenty of places to hide in those dunes. And even if he sees us nearby, he won’t have any idea who we are.”

  “But what if he’s having me followed, right now, as we speak?”

  “Did you tell him where you are? Did he ask?”

  “No. But what difference does that make?”

  “How would he know about this condo? He couldn’t have followed you.”

  Eric thought about that. Doug wouldn’t remember the place, or how to get there. Other than that, Eric couldn’t think of anyone else who would know. It sounded like a fairly good plan.

  * * *

  Lugging an empty cooler, Eric headed North for several miles on the dark lonely road winding up to the dunes, then came to an abrupt stop. He’d gone as far as he could go. There were no left or right turns, no signs or bill boards to give direction. A massive mound of sand marked the end of the modern world and the beginning of Padre Island National Seashore.

  Ahead were hundreds of undeveloped miles forming the largest barrier island in the world. Empty as a desert, it provided no shady trees or lush foliage, just clumps of overgrown weeds and brush poking out from the sand. And yet the place held an endless fascination for fishermen, shell collectors, nudists, and spiritualists who hoped to hear the voice of God midst the howling wind and thundering waves.

  Eric did not fit into any of these categories and hence had not ventured this way more than a few times in the past two decades. He and Gail had tried sunbathing up here once at the designated nude beach, but she had found it too hot, windy, sandy, and boring as hell. Eric wondered how Tim had discovered the area so quickly. It wasn’t touted in the local tourist magazines because it offered no police protection, and provided no revenue. And those who eventually discovered its pristine character liked to keep it to themselves.

  Back about five miles, Bud and Jerry had turned off on a gravel road leading to the shoreline. Here, large vehicles could drive up and down the hard packed stretch of sand that the tide didn’t reach. Hundreds of self sufficient campers and trailers with license plates from every state in the Union and Canada were parked for miles along the way

  The wind blasted Eric’s face with a curtain of sand as he stepped out of his truck and started toward his destination. The moon, hidden behind a thin veil of clouds, provided eerie illumination. He shivered and zipped up his windbreaker, hoping these jerks had given Doug something warm to wear. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, his breathing labored. This was easily the most important thing he’d ever done in his life, and he wasn’t sure he was up to it. Every few seconds, a surge of panic told him to cut and run, like a soldier on a battlefield who’d lost his nerve. And yet he kept going. But why had Tim insisted that he, and only he, should make the drop? He had the uneasy feeling that whoever was behind this kidnapping was aware of Eric’s inadequacies and hoped to use them to advantage.

  He looked out across the ocean and saw lights from a shrimp boat fading in and out of the mist. A few trucks and SUV’s parked nearby provided a certain comfort level. Surely the kidnappers would not risk the sound of a gunshot or scream with so many witnesses around. On the other hand, the rhythmic pounding of the surf would muffle most sounds, and no one in their right mind would go out into the night to investigate anything unusual in such a lawless place.

  Eric turned on his flashlight, feeling totally disoriented. The dunes at this end of the island were filled with debris washed in from ocean going vessels. How would he find the broom and a yellow container amidst all the bottles, cans, shoes, and trash? The kidnappers didn’t know what a Texas wind could do and might easily blame him if the marker had blown away.

  At that moment, he spotted a broom handle stuck at a forty five degree angle, and a yellow Clorox bottle dangling precariously from the end. Okay, it was upside down from the way Tim had described it, but it had to be what he was looking for.

  Eric turned left as instructed, immediately reassured he was on the right track when he saw a trail of pop cans buried in the sand, planted about two feet apart to show him the way. As he began his ascent, his feet sank deeper into the sand, His leg muscles felt weak, like elas
tic gone slack. Probably shouldn’t have gone surfing this afternoon. But it didn’t take long to reach the top and find the plateau the kidnapper had described.

  All right, he was here. Surely they had been on the lookout for him and seen his flashlight as he found his way up their designated path. Overhead, a plane droned and in the distance, he heard a truck revving its motor.

  “Where are you?” he shouted at sky. “Where’s Doug?”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” he called out again. After looking at his watch for a full ten minutes, he looked across the bay where the Port Isabel lighthouse flashed a beam of hope, and the lights of the marina twinkled in the evening sky. He wished that he and Doug were in that happy place; the two of them walking down the long fishing pier that stretched out half a mile into the water.

  “I’ll give you fifteen more minutes,” he called out, knowing that Jerry and Bud were close by, waiting impatiently and poised for action. His senses were sharp and taut: the buzzing of gnats, scurrying of lizards, and shifting shadows of weeds all made him flinch. After twenty minutes more, he considered his options. If he walked away , would someone jump him before the guys could intervene? He had to chance it. Something had gone sour here. He picked up the cooler and slowly retraced his steps.

  He climbed into his truck and sat still for a moment, waiting for his racing heart to slow down. He had been chilled to the bone, but now his forehead dripped with sweat, and the air in the cabin felt hot and suffocating. Had he deviated from the instructions? Maybe there was a misunderstanding about the time. Either he or the kidnapper had been so keyed up, they’d gotten it wrong.

  The ring of his cell phone jangled his nerves once again. He picked it up with a sense of relief that Tim was trying to get in touch.

  “You fucked up.” Eric recognized the familiar voice with the southern accent that sounded like “yew.”

  “What are you talking about? I did everything you said. I waited up there almost an hour. And I had the money. Why didn’t you show up?”

  “Because you tried to screw me over.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh really? What about them two guys in that camper sitting out on the beach, just waiting for us?”

  Eric felt like he’d been sucker punched. How did they know about Bud and Jerry? He drew a deep breath, trying to feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “There are always trucks parked along the beach at night. If you were from around here, you’d know that.”

  “I know more than you think I know. Now listen to me real good. Because of what you’ve done, I’m going to have to punish Doug.”

  Cold fingers of fear gripped Eric’s throat. “But Doug hasn’t done anything.”

  “No, but you have. And for that your son will pay.”

  “Please don’t hurt Doug. I’ll do whatever you say; just tell me what I should do now.” Eric could hear the desperation in his own voice.

  “You thought I was stupid, that you could off me up in the dunes. Now, we’re going to have to meet somewhere else, a place that’s safe. And I’m watching them two cowboys; I know exactly where they’re at. You keep them out of it.”

  “Agreed. But I’m still not leaving the money until I see Doug.”

  “All right. We’ll meet you again at five o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “Where?”

  “You think I’ll tell you so you can set me up with those goons? No way, I’ll give you exactly enough time to get to where we are. And just remember, the place will be surrounded. Anyone tries anything, Doug’s dead.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  TONY

  TONY CABELLA WAS taking no chances on being recognized. He wore a baseball cap backward, a white tank top over torn blue jeans, and a couple of washable tattoos on either arm. He and Tim were parked down the road, just close enough to see Eric’s truck.

  As soon as Tim finished talking with Eric on his cell phone, Tony inched forward and drove slowly for about a mile, then pressed hard on the accelerator.

  “Where we going now?” Tim asked. “What’s the hurry? Why didn’t you wait until Eric got ahead of us?”

  “Because, we haven’t much time. We have to get Doug off the island.”

  “Why? What for? They don’t know where he is.”

  “The Krueger spread is about two hours away. Every ranch hand in the place will be on their way here, as we speak. They’ll canvass the island; go to every hotel, motel, and restaurant looking for Doug. And they’ll have plenty of cash to throw around. We have to get him out of here right now. Call Jose and tell him to be ready to meet us behind the Best Western in about ten minutes. Make sure they go out the back way so the guy at the desk doesn’t see them.”

  “I think you did this all wrong,” Tim said. “The money was just a few feet away. Eric had the cooler right there with him. I could have grabbed it and ran.”

  “Are you nuts? Those two henchmen of Krueger’s were watching every move Eric made. You’d have been shark food if you tried that. You see, you were lucky to have me planning this deal. Eric Krueger is good and scared now. This little gambit tonight showed him we’re on to his tricks. He knows now that he’ll have to come alone the next time, with the money, and without the Krueger goons. But still, they’ll make a last ditch effort to find the kid.”

  “So, where are we going with Doug?”

  “A place called Boca Chica, down near Brownsville. It’s a few miles from the ocean-- a deserted village out in the middle of nowhere. Only one problem, we have to pass a security check point. If we don’t look suspicious, and their guard dogs don’t smell any drugs, we’ll sail right through. Doug will need to be in the trunk. Gagged and bound. ”

  “We have to get by the police? Are you forgetting there’s an Amber Alert out on Jose and me?”

  “The border patrol will be looking for a beat up old Chevy with a gringo and a Mexican and a twelve year old boy. So we need to trade cars at the Best Western. You take the rental and I’ll drive yours.”

  “Why can’t we all go together?”

  “Because I can’t let Doug see me when we get to Boca Chica. I’ll lead the way, you just follow. As soon as you pick up Jose and Doug, I’ll meet you on the highway to Brownsville. I’ll call to let you know where.”

  Tony dropped Tim off at the Best Western and drove south in the Impala. His cell phone rang but he didn’t answer. He didn’t want to talk to Gail. She had left a message this morning demanding to know where he was and he knew that the sound of her voice might make him lose his nerve.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check what she had to say.

  He listened to the first message. Gail’s voice vibrated with tension. “Tony where are you? Please tell me if you have Angie, and if so, why? No one has called about a ransom. The police have been here looking for you, and can’t understand why you’d leave town under the circumstances.”

  A pulse of alarm throbbed in Tony’s neck. Was Gail out of her mind? Why did she think he had Angie? And what was this about a ransom?

  He checked back and listened to her previous message. Her breathing was ragged, her words coming out in short bursts: that Angie’s body guard had gone to school and found her gone. And they hoped she was with him, Tony. Otherwise, it looked like another kidnapping. That his mother was under a doctor’s care. And everyone was frantic and he had to get home immediately.

  Beads of sweat formed on Tony’s upper lip. Why had they taken Angie, when the guys from the casino agreed to another day for him to come up with the money he owed? He slammed on his brakes and pulled over to the side of the road, frantically punching in the dreaded phone number. A cold, recorded message offered no comfort. He yelled into the phone. “Why did you take my daughter? I’ll have your money by tomorrow. You gave me that much time, you promised it would be all right.”

  He slumped over the steering wheel, shaking with fear. Why hadn’t he learned his lesson when they k
illed Roseanne? Why had he run up gambling debts he couldn’t pay once again? A sourness rose in his throat, followed by the taste of tacos he’d had for dinner. He opened his door just in time to vomit along the roadside. Thank God he was alone. If Tim thought Tony was losing his cool, he might chicken out. Tony needed Doug’s ransom money more than ever now. Angie’s life depended upon it. And he didn’t care what happened to Doug.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  GAIL

  WITHIN WEEKS AFTER Gail and Tony had moved to Lewiston, she had begun to feel the marriage was a mistake. She’d never lived in the Midwest before and, at first, she thought the snowfalls and roaring fires were romantic and fun. But her mother-in-law’s daily visits grew more annoying as the dreary winter months dragged on.

  She’d hoped for some relief when Janie got a divorce and moved back home from California with Ana, who was the same age as Angie.

  No such luck.

  Janie and her mother together were four times as irritating as Mrs. Cabella alone. They entered the house at will, trooped upstairs to Angie’s bedroom, inspected the contents of the cupboards, and made a general nuisance of themselves. Gail felt unwanted and outnumbered and couldn’t figure out why. Her former in-laws, the Kruegers, had been so happy to have someone looking out for Eric, they’d treated her like a queen.

  But the Kruegers’ goodwill hadn’t quite made up for their son’s inadequacies. Eric’s dysthymic disorder had required more and more medication as the years went by, severely affecting his libido. And yet, the more his sexual appetite dwindled, the stronger hers became. The day she’d spotted Tony Cabella, she’d been like a mare in spring heat at the National Stud.

  Memories drifted through her head like scattered dreams. She remembered the bar in San Diego where she and Tony had met: one of those upscale places at the top of a glitzy hotel overlooking the city. She’d been visiting Cindy, a friend from modeling days, who’d promised there would be plenty of successful men in the city on business, unleashed from their wives and looking for action.