by Polly Iyer
Raising his voice hurt his chest, but Reece persisted. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Tobey turned, hesitated. “I know Carl.”
He left with those three words hanging in the air. What did he mean? I know Carl. Reece knew Carl too, and he knew with the destruction of the recorder he’d lost any chance to show the world the real Carl Daughtry.
Although Reece grew up in Portland, this was Carl’s town. He lived here, married twice, joined all the city groups men in business belonged to, like their father. Like Reece probably would have had life not taken a detour. Why would anyone here want to help him?
He dozed and woke to Jeraldine’s voice and knew he was in big trouble. She spoke softly and respectfully, without cussing. That clarified how much trouble.
Chapter Fifty-One
A Double Life
Harold County, North Carolina
Jim Payton wanted to get all his ducks in a row before he went after Robert Minette. First on his agenda: look into what Harris told him about a dark night almost twenty years ago. He actually felt sorry for the newspaperman. He’d been living with the guilt of something Payton wasn’t sure happened the way Harris believed. And he’d been living in a bottle to erase the memories.
Harris told him exactly where and when he supposedly hit the man on the bike. Payton obtained a warrant to requisition the hospital records for the date and for the few weeks after. If nothing panned out, he’d check the black funeral parlors in the area.
The person in charge of records grumbled when she heard the year, but she came through. One hospital entry fit—a man treated for a broken hip a day after Harris said the accident occurred. The man would have been forty-three at the time, not as old as Harris described.
Payton remembered his youth when everyone seemed older. Now that he had broken the half-century mark, older people seemed a lot younger. The rationalization made him smile, the only smile in a long few days.
He drove to the address he’d copied from the hospital record, doubtful he’d find the patient after all this time. But he owed Harris his best shot. The address led to a small, well-kept cottage a mile off the back road Harris had taken. Neatly planted rows of corn bordered the side of the house, flower beds teeming with color edged the front. The face of the man rocking on the front porch was as smooth and unlined as polished onyx, the close-cropped gray hair the only clue to what Payton surmised to be his sixty-odd years. He held a mug of something in his hand. A cane hooked over the back of his chair. Denim overalls over a pristine white T-shirt covered his rangy body.
“Jeremiah Livingston?” Payton asked.
“That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“I want to ask you about an accident you had on your bicycle about twenty years ago.”
Livingston took a drink from his cup. A smile revealing cigarette-stained teeth spanned from ear to ear. “Been wondering when someone would get around to that,” he said.
* * * * *
Jim Payton took Barry Kanter’s call.
“Boy, were you onto something,”
“What’ve you got?”
“My man followed Harry Klugh all over town yesterday. He finally caught him eating dinner at one of those mall food courts. Good thing Klugh’s a litter bug. He left his trash on the table to the delight of Bubba.”
“Bubba?”
“Yup. Bubba looks the opposite of what you’d expect a Bubba to look like, which is why he’s so good at what he does. Anyway, Bubba collected the trash and brought it to me. A police friend owed me a favor and put them through AFIS. My friend is as happy as a pig in shit.”
“Okay, so who is he?”
“Name’s Victor Castell. My cop friend said Castell was a small-time hood from Chicago who decided to go for the big score. He hit one of the mob’s banks and got off with a tidy sum. Sixty grand, it’s rumored. But he killed one of their guys, and almost took a bullet himself, the story goes. He escaped clean, then disappeared off the face of the earth. His former employers were understandably pissed off. So pissed off, there’s a standing contract on Castell, even after all these years. Of course, the theft was never reported, but the murder was. Chicago police want a crack at him. Apparently, they pegged him for a few more unsolved crimes.”
“I suppose when the real Klugh went missing on a fishing trip on Lake Michigan, there’s a reason why no one ever found his body.”
“Castell wouldn’t want him to pop up unexpectedly, excuse the pun. Half a year later, Klugh number two, aka Victor Castell, transplanted from Philadelphia to Atlanta to start a new life in Klugh number one’s old profession as a private detective. Perfect cover for a crook. With a resemblance to the real Klugh and a little finagling, he bought himself a license and a gun permit. No telling how he and Minette zeroed in on each other. Scum attracts scum as if they had radioactive pheromones.”
However they connected, Payton assumed Klugh engineered the disappearance of Minette’s witness in the Charlotte case. The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place. “You think I could talk your police friend into working with me on this.”
“I mentioned that. He’d like the collar, but since you’re the one who set him on Castell, and someone else is in danger of losing his life, he’s willing to do whatever you want. ’Course, Chicago has first dibs, don’t they?”
“After I get my man cleared for at least one of the murders, and nail the prick who set Klugh to do it, I really don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him or who gets the collar. I have a different agenda.”
“I take it you’re coming to Atlanta.”
“First thing Monday morning if you set me up with your friend. I have jurisdiction problems.”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep him away. I have one question. Why should Klugh tell you anything? He’s damned no matter which crimes he confesses to. It’s a lose/lose for him. Not much incentive to come clean.”
“I bet I can give him a good reason,” Payton said, “if your buddy goes along.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Drifting Off to a Better Place
New England
Reece had never seen Jeraldine so subdued. His near death must have given her a scare. He tried to sit up, but with one wrist cuffed and the other immobilized, he couldn’t manage it. Besides, pain kept him in place.
“How’re you feeling, honey?”
“I’ve felt worse. What’s happening with Dana?”
Jeraldine sat on the edge of the bed. “She’s fine. She’ll be here in a while. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Are they arresting her? They’ve got me, and I won’t cooperate unless they let her go.”
“They don’t need your cooperation,” Clarence said. “You have nothing to give them. They can charge you with murder, attempted murder, flight from prosecution, and half a dozen other crimes we know are bullshit, but they can do it.”
Reece knew that too, but right now his only thoughts concerned Dana. “Let them. I’ll confess to anything they want. Just make sure she’s not part of it.”
“They’re not charging her,” Jeraldine said. “They wanted to speak to her. I wouldn’t let her say anything. She’s outside. Relax, okay?”
Reece nodded. “Okay. Just make sure.”
“I’m sure,” Jeraldine said.
Clarence dragged a chair bedside. “Be careful about being too noble. It might come back to bite you in the ass.”
Reece cocked his head toward his cuffed wrist. “Looks like I’ve already got teeth marks, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed,” Clarence said. “Now, tell me about the visit to your father.”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Getting rid of old anger could only apply to one of two people. Carl or your father. I figured your anger was deeper with your father, and that he must have said something that turned you on to Carl.”
“He did. Carl fed my father lies. Told him I confessed to murdering Karen. Had I put my stupid pride aside and gone
to see him years ago, the truth might have come out long before this. But stubborn is part of my makeup, and Carl’s prodding only made me more stubborn. Call it reverse psychology, but he knew me well enough to know how I’d react.” Reece felt the anger grow inside him. He yanked on the handcuff. “I had it all on tape. The hows and whys.” He yanked again. “The bastard is going to win again, isn’t he?” Wincing from the pain, he snarled, “Shit. Can’t you get them to take this cuff off? There’s a damn cop outside my door. I’ve…just had surgery. Where do they think I’m going?”
“Calm down, honey.” Jeraldine took a tissue from the bedside box and patted it on Reece’s face. “I’ll get a doctor.”
“I don’t need a damn doctor. I need that recorder to work, and I need Dana back in North Carolina where she belongs. She had nothing to do with this.” He stopped, short of breath. “I’ll say I forced her. They might as well add kidnapping to the murder charge. How many times can they stick the needle in me?”
Clarence shook his head. “Take it easy, Reece. You’ll bust your stitches.”
“So fucking what?”
“You can’t give up now.”
Reece closed his eyes. He felt so tired. Tired of being frustrated, of being on the run. Tired of fighting a lost cause. He didn’t want to listen to how everything would work out. Things hadn’t worked out in a long, long time. Except for Dana.
“The recorder’s kaput,” Clarence said. “Be glad you had it in your pocket. If it hadn’t been there, you’d be dead instead of having another scar on your chest. And I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut. Don’t offer yourself to save Dana. Jeri will take care of her. Now, I need you to focus and tell me what happened. Where were you when Carl shot you? Up close or far away?”
“Would you mind getting me some water? My mouth feels like a desert.”
Jeraldine, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, scooted to the other side of the bed, refilled the glass, and put it to Reece’s lips. He saw tears in her eyes.
“Thanks.” He dried his mouth with a swipe to his shoulder. “Sorry, Jeri.”
“Not as sorry as I am, baby. None of this should have happened. You could have—”
“But I didn’t. I guess I’m too stupid to die.”
“Stop with the self-pity,” Clarence said. “Tell us what happened. Carl said you went for the gun, you and he struggled, and the gun went off.”
“No way.” Incensed, Reece forgot and took a deep breath. Pain shot through him. He groaned, jamming his head back into his pillow. “Christ, that hurts.”
“Take it easy,” Jeraldine said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Yeah, right. Like they did in Cambridge?”
“Forget Cambridge,” Clarence said. “We’re not there. The police will be in here soon, so tell me what happened in Carl’s office.”
Reece felt like a coiled snake, ready to strike. He forced his body limp. “I was on my way out the door of the office when he shot me. I shouldn’t have turned around.”
“Right, honey,” Jeraldine said. “Good thinking. Then he would have shot you in the back and you’d be dead.”
“But—”
“No buts, Reece. We don’t have time for this,” Clarence said, his tone sharp. “Tell us what the fuck happened.”
This was a side of the investigator Reece hadn’t seen. He cleared everything from his mind except the last few minutes in Carl’s office. “Carl admitted to two murders. Karen and the first murder in North Carolina, but not the second. He said he was obsessed with Karen and couldn’t stand it when he found out she’d screwed everyone with a dick.”
Reliving the conversation hurt Reece worse than the pain in his chest, and he swallowed the knot in his throat. “He had years of resentment built up toward me. Said I was too perfect. I never saw myself that way.” He fought the feeling of despair. “You know what else he said? Since I knew the ropes, it’d be easier for me to go back to prison. Can you believe that?”
“I was a cop for a long time. Not much throws me.” Clarence leaned across and patted Reece’s arm. “Nothing you can do about it now. It’s history. We’ve got to get you out of this.”
Reece wanted to ask how when the door burst open. Dennis Tobey and another man came into the room. Reece knew right away he was a fed. Short cropped hair, navy suit, navy striped tie. The wardrobe, along with the attitude, must be written in the manual, to be followed without question.
“You’re not his lawyer,” the man said to Clarence. “You have no business being in here.”
Jeraldine stood, placing herself between the man and Reece. “I am his lawyer, and I say he has every right. So does my client.”
“Humor me,” the man said. “Just this time. Otherwise, take it to court.”
“He stays,” Jeraldine said. “Or you can take it to court.”
Clarence stood there, wrapped in an air of defiance. The man shrugged. He turned to Reece, who wasn’t sure he had the strength for whatever loomed on the horizon. His body ached, and sadness overwhelmed him about Dana and Carl and the two guys in the room who were going to slam him back in prison.
The man pulled out his badge. “Special Agent Michael Larkins, Mr. Daughtry. You know Detective Tobey. We’d like to hear your side of the story.”
Reece looked at Jeraldine.
“I’m here,” she said, then turned to the federal agent. “I’ll decide what he answers and what he doesn’t, Agent Larkins. Go ahead. Ask your questions.”
“I won’t talk until you tell me Mrs. Minette won’t be charged with anything. Period.” Reece saw Jeraldine give him the evil eye, but he didn’t care.
“You’re really not in a bargaining position,” Larkins said. “I’ll do my best, and that’s all I can promise.”
Reece wanted to take a deep breath, but he remembered what deep breaths felt like. He relaxed and closed his eyes for a minute. He was so tired. His thoughts wandered back to his house in North Carolina, his animals, and Dana sitting cross-legged on his dock in the pre-dawn light. She got up and sat on his lap, bottom damp and cool, warm hands on his face. She whispered something in his ear, but he couldn’t make it out. The voice filtered through a haze from far away, calling his name. Reece opened his eyes to Jeraldine hovering over him.
“Reece,” she said. “I’m here.”
He blinked from the light. “I see that, Jeri.” His voice rumbled rough with sleep. He couldn’t remember closing his eyes. Larkins and Tobey stood like two sentries, looking impatient. How long had he been out? “You guys still here?”
“Yup,” Larkins said. “You conked out for a few minutes, but we’re still here, waiting to hear your side of the story. Now, do you want to tell us what happened?”
“Where’s Dana?” Reece asked Jeraldine, ignoring Larkins.
“She’s fine, honey. Still waiting outside.” She glared at Larkins. “Agent Larkins barely threatened her.”
“Doing my job, Ms. De Bolt. This is a complicated situation.”
“And why is that?” Jeraldine asked.
Larkins and Tobey exchanged glances. “We really need to talk to Mr. Daughtry.”
Reece closed his eyes again. “And I’d love to talk to you, but not until I see Mrs. Minette. After, you can put me on the witness stand. I don’t care. But right now, I’m really tired. The meds are wearing off. I’m in pain, and I’m cuffed to this bed. That makes me cranky.” He winced. “Jeri, could you get the nurse to give me something? I feel like there’s a knife in my chest.”
She started toward the door, but Tobey beat her to it and came back with the nurse. She leaned over Reece to check the IV. She smelled of mouthwash and talcum powder and reminded Reece of the woman who used to clean his parents’ house. She took his blood pressure and temperature, put something in his IV, and the room started spinning. Oblivious to the sounds around him, he slipped back in time amid the comforting aromas. He heard her say, “The doctor will be here shortly, Mr. Daughtry.” And then, “You men need t
o come back later. The patient is recovering from surgery. He’s in no condition to talk this long.”
Reece wanted to hug her, but the sounds faded as she shooed everyone out. The doctor came in and checked Reece’s chart and said some things Reece couldn’t make out in his semi-conscious state. He wanted to see Dana, but he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes from closing. He felt like he was floating. Floating. Floating.
Chapter Fifty-Three
What’s Going On?
Clarence held Jeraldine’s arm as they joined Dana in the waiting room. He was pissed off that the fed tried to evict him from the room and was glad Jeri stood up to him. Little did it matter when the nurse kicked them all out. He watched as Larkins and Tobey took chairs on the other side of the room.
“How is he?” Dana asked.
“Your name was the first word out of his mouth,” Clarence said, “so I guess he’s okay. He’s sleeping now.”
“Christ, the man came out of surgery less than a day ago,” Jeraldine said, “after they took a friggin’ bullet from his chest.”
Dana sighed. “Thank God he’s okay. I was so worried I almost forgot the FBI and the Portland Police were grilling me.”
“You did fine,” Jeraldine said.
Clarence asked, “What did you tell them?”
“The truth. They asked why I assisted a fugitive, and I said because I knew Reece was innocent. I told them if he’s bulldozed again I wouldn’t care what happened to me. Jeraldine tried to shut me up, but I meant every word.”
Jeraldine shook her head in disgust. “No shutting up those two when they have something to say. They’re a match made in heaven.”
“Do you know what they’re going to do?” Dana asked.
“No,” Jeraldine said, “and I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
Clarence watched Tobey and Larkins huddled in deep conversation. “Something’s going on. I need to talk to them.”
“Make nice, honey. We don’t want them all over Reece’s case because they don’t like us.”
