“One, I didn’t have the money to go clubbing. Two, I wasn’t on the A list. I didn’t party hard, didn’t have sex with the world, wasn’t in any major movies. These guys at the front are paid to know. The club where my friend Scott worked was where Sergei and his pals hung out. Scott warned me about Sergei, but I thought he was mysterious and intriguing. I was thirty-three, and I just wanted someone to care about me. When Sergei found out I was good friends with an international bank owner’s wife in Beverly Hills, that sealed the deal and I never knew it.” Crossing her arms, she shook her head gently, looking away. “I must have been…the most…” She shrugged, and sighed. “I missed my mom and dad so much that I mistook it all for something that it wasn’t.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she blinked her eyes quickly.
Jack concentrated on staying neutral, but his gut was seething.
“So he used you to get to the next hierarchy up. Your friend entertained, you were included, and since he was your boyfriend, it was a done deal. The guy had money, but you had class and legitimacy. You were his ticket in to a world he wanted.” He raised his brows and took a sip of coffee, watching her. “And you never knew what he did?”
“In the beginning, I was clueless, but then I heard rumors. In the end, I didn’t want to know.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“It’s not that easy.” She shifted around in her chair and cast her eyes downward. Jack knew he was asking some tough questions. “I tried once, but he…threatened me.”
“You could have called Mike.”
“I was too embarrassed. Besides, if I’d called Mike, he would have called you and then you would have had to rescue my butt—again.” She glanced up at him and faintly smiled. So she did remember that time. “But an opportunity presented itself and I left.”
“A quick exit.”
“Yep. I grabbed a few things and I was out of there.”
So they still had a cat and mouse game going. No one was admitting to being in the house with the FBI. “Who knows you’re here?”
“No one.” She looked at him, and he held her gaze. “I never spoke of the island to anyone, not even my best friend.”
“Keep it that way.”
The chugging of the ferry engine slowed, signaling their next stop. After that, it would be Anacortes. They refilled their Styrofoam cups and headed to Jack’s truck. He preferred the warmth of the truck cab. Cassie stood at the rail watching the water, her hair blowing in the wind. It’d taken an enormous restraint not to show his anger over what happened to her. At this point, he was certain Cassie had been the maid he’d interrogated. B actress my ass.
Koslov might have threatened her, but he’d also hit her. In his book, it was payback time. He didn’t care who it was, nobody deserved that treatment. As his mother would say, “Do onto others as you would like them to do onto you.” Well, let’s just see how you like getting your lights punched out, dirtbag.
Chapter Fifteen
They grabbed burgers in town and then headed back to the ferry terminal office to view the closed-circuit TV of the ferry traffic from the day before. The Washington State Department of Transportation offered Ferry Cams for a quick way for ferry users to view real time traffic and the back-ups. WSDOT had Ferry Cams at all the major terminals, which made Jack’s job easy. He also requested the camera footage of boarding cars and passengers.
“Do you need my help?” Cassie asked.
“No, but thanks. At this point, I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
Cassie pulled out her book and thumbed through it. Jack started viewing the afternoon ferry traffic. He scanned through the footage until he spotted a stalled pick-up truck. He zoomed in and then spotted his truck passing it. Did she not think it odd he hadn’t quizzed her how she’d gotten to the island?
“Hey, Cass, can you look at this?”
She leaned over his shoulder and watched him click through each screen, updating every five seconds. She sucked in her breath. A very clear picture of Cassie Ryan leaning against an old pick-up truck looking forlorn dominated the screen.
“What happened to your truck?”
“It died.”
“I can see that. Where is it now?”
“It was towed to a place here in town. I’m supposed to call them or something.”
Jack rubbed his forehead and decided it was not the time to quiz her about the truck—or much else for that matter. The expression on her face matched the screen. “No problem. We can stop after we’re done here. You do know the name?”
“Yes. Look, do you mind if I sit here next to you? I can’t concentrate on my book.”
“Not at all.”
She pulled up a chair next to him. They viewed screen by screen, with Jack jumping over to the footage of the road coming into the loading area and then each vehicle driving on.
“It would help if you tell me what you’re looking for.”
He hesitated for a moment, but realized she had a valid point. Two sets of eyes were better than one. “I’m hoping to spot the two men that were in the photo and on the ferry with you. Who dropped them off?”
“Why didn’t you say so? You’re doing this all wrong. Keep it zoomed out so we can see where someone might make a U-turn sort of thing.”
Taken aback, he highlighted areas on the screen and tried to enlarge them. Cassie sighed over and over, which he found distracting.
“Would you just let me do it?”
“Have at it.” He threw up his arms and switched places with her.
Her fingers moved fast over the keyboard, clicking, double clicking, and zooming in and out. He was in awe.
“We need to look for a white van.”
“Why white?”
“Because in the movies, it’s always a white van or a black one.”
He smiled at her logic.
If they weren’t looking, they would have missed the little spec of white in the corner. Enlarged, they barely saw a van stopped on the shoulder. Clicking through the next sequences, the van pulled back into traffic, leaving two people walking down the road.
“I’ll be damned. I would have missed that. Can you get a license plate number?”
Cassie tried everything but couldn’t. Using Ferry Cam, she displayed the holding area for Anacortes. “I don’t know about you, but I see a lot of vans waiting to get on the ferry. Not all of them are in line for Hartz Island. Some are headed directly to Friday Harbor. Maybe we need to watch the footage of the vehicles loading specifically for the Hartz run.”
“Yes, but we also need to watch for Friday Harbor, too. I want the license plate of every van boarding the ferry at this time.”
When they were finished, they had counted and recorded twelve light-colored vans and printed the photo of the men boarding the ferry.
He nudged her with his elbow. “You’re a real natural at the computer.”
“Thanks.”
It mattered that he didn’t think her a complete loser. She smiled up at him. A look she could not decipher had settled in his eyes—very intent, almost guarded. Something about it all caused her pulse to skyrocket and her body got hot.
Finally, she said, “It helps having a computer whiz for a brother.”
He cleared his throat and got up quickly from his chair. “Let’s go find your truck. It’s getting late.”
If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he wanted to kiss her.
Cassie gave Jack the card from the tow truck driver, and he tapped in the address on the Tahoe’s GPS. The routing showed less than three miles to the repair garage. Not far from where they got burgers.
Jack started quizzing her on what she thought was wrong with the truck. Playing ignorance, knowing she’d run out of oil, made it a long three miles. Her truck was parked in t
he front. Jack pulled in next to it and stared. Cassie saw the surprise on his face, but then he hid it.
“Is that your truck?”
Cassie wanted to say duh, it’s the only one with California plates but instead nodded. Old Blue looked tired and worn out, kind of how she felt.
“And you drove that up from L.A.?”
“Yes.”
“I’m impressed.”
There was a lot she wanted to add to his comment but remained silent and hopped out of the Tahoe. Jack followed her into the office. At this point, she was pretty sure he had several questions, none she wanted to answer. The tow truck driver from yesterday stood at the counter studying a clipboard. He looked up and smiled.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “I just did a quick look at the truck and wondered how to get a hold of you.”
“What did you find out?” Her stomach clenched. She was clueless to what these sorts of things cost.
“You have a couple of options: sell the truck the way it is, basically junk it, or put in a used engine. The question is: what’s it worth to you?”
For just a moment, she closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. It had been her fault, she’d caused this. “What would a used engine cost?”
“I just did a quick Internet search and found an ’85 F-150 for just under six hundred dollars. Plus labor, you’re looking around nineteen hundred.”
She stared at him.
He cleared his throat. “A cash discount would bring it down…”
“I need to crunch some numbers.” He might as well have said a million dollars. “Can I call you…tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Or even the next day, or the day after.”
She could tell by the sympathetic look he felt bad, but business was business. Jack handed her his truck keys. She beelined out before she made a fool of herself crying.
She heard him open the door and climb in but kept her head down, braced on her arms against the dashboard. “It’s my entire fault,” she mumbled. “If I would have just listened, none of this would have happened. Everybody warned me, even José.” The thought of José unleashed her emotions into body jerking sobs. “Blue deserves better than this.” She wiped her nose with her back hand. The tears started again. “You have no idea. If it wasn’t for this truck…this truck…I’ve let everyone that matters down. Even Old Blue.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jack was good at many things, but sobbing women left him feeling useless. Having been brought up with a house full of guys, he more or less just sucked it up. He searched the cab for something Cassie could use to wipe her nose. He grabbed a T-shirt out of his overnight bag and handed it to her. She finally seemed to have everything under control so he said, “It’s just a truck.” It’s like he’d open the flood gates of Boulder Dam with the way she carried on. Finally, she stopped. He chose his words carefully. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“No, I just know I need to do the right thing.”
Jack had the distinct feeling Cassie meant more than just a truck. “Do you have the money to repair the truck?”
“Not really.” She leaned back in the seat and propped her head on her hand and stared out the window.
The muscles in his jaw twitched thinking about her situation. It all seemed so simple at the time. “Can you find my sister? I’m very worried about her.” At what point do you walk away? The more time he spent with her, the more he felt like he was getting sucked in, though she wasn’t asking for his help. But the urge to jump in and take over kept rearing its head.
“Do you need to junk it?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
“Is there any chance you have the title?”
She wiped her eyes and searched through her purse, bringing out an envelope that she handed to him.
“I’ll be right back.”
When he returned, he said, “He thinks he can sell it for a couple of hundred dollars.” Jack put his truck in gear and pulled out in traffic.
“Where are we going?”
“To get ice cream. I saw a place down the street.” He couldn’t fix her problems but the least he could do was put some meat on her bones. As his nieces would say, Uncle Jack, ice cream solves all the problems. If only it was that easy, he thought. He pulled through the drive-thru. “What do you want?”
She leaned over him to look at the menu. “I don’t know. I always have to watch my weight.”
“Why? Are you going back to L.A.?”
She shook her head.
“Then it seems to me you can get whatever you want.”
“What are you going to get?”
“An extra thick chocolate brownie shake.”
She grinned. “That sounds good. Make mine…a Heath Bar. But a small.”
He laughed.
Jack handed her the shakes and pulled into traffic, driving a couple of blocks through old historic Anacortes and then over to the road that meandered up to Cap Sante Park with a view of Anacortes, Fidalgo Bay, and the marina. No one else was parked in the small lot. A few sailboats dotted the bay, along with an oil tanker for the refinery. They made noncommittal comments while enjoying their ice cream. Cassie’s plastic spoon scraped the sides and bottom of her cup. She held it up for Jack to see.
“I guess I should have gotten a medium.”
As if time had never gone by, he knew what was coming next. It had happened before so many times in the Ryan kitchen. He wanted to laugh but kept a straight face.
“No,” he said firmly. “You had a choice and you chose.”
She gasped.
“You said a small and you got it. You could have gotten a medium or a large like me.”
“Well,” she huffed, “don’t you think you’re being a bit of a buttinski?”
“Yes.” He took a big spoonful and let her simmer. “The point that I’m trying to make is no matter how big or little the decision is, you need to live with it. Decide what it is you really want. You chose a small, but you wanted a medium. Here, open up.”
She glared at him but opened her mouth wide while he spooned in a large portion of his shake into her mouth. She looked at him with those dove gray eyes and moved her mouth in a way that sent heat right down to his balls.
With her mouth full, she said, “It’s just a stupid milkshake, Jack.”
He knew he’d pissed her off, and that was okay.
“You know what your problem is?” A slight smile of defiance graced her face.
“No, what?” He scooped another spoonful and held it up. She leaned over, and he spooned it in. “What’s my problem?” He was very interested in hearing what she had to say.
After swallowing, she sniffed. “You’re problem is that you need to get a life if you’re all caught up over some dumb milkshake.”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, you might be right. Somebody told me that not too long ago.” Somehow, coming from Cassie, it didn’t seem as stinging.
“So, are you going to finish that?”
“Do you want it?”
Their eyes met. “Yes.”
He handed her the large cup, started up the truck, and headed out of the park.
“Where we going now?”
“Seattle.”
“I haven’t been there in years.”
Interesting. The most direct route up from Los Angeles would be I-5, coming right through Seattle. So which way had she come?
Chapter Seventeen
After lunch, Ray Carlson parked next to Montana’s car that she’d left at the Ryan’s earlier. His cellphone rang, and he checked the number.
“I need to answer this.”
Montana opened the passenger door to get out, but he held up his finger for her to wait. He finished his call and smiled at her.
“
That was the most interesting lunch I’ve had in years. I will consider Reiki treatments.”
She returned his smile.
“I need to get going. I’ll follow you out.”
Even though Montana had other plans about leaving, she waved and hopped into her car. She felt certain Ray would go left when they reached the road, so she went right.
“Yes,” she shouted looking in her rearview mirror. Ray had turned left. Montana drove until she found a spot to make a U-turn and headed back to the Ryan’s, parking completely out of view.
Time to get to work. She pulled off the wig and fluffed her thick dark hair. Lunch had been fun flirting with Ray. Jeannie hadn’t recognized her until she placed her lunch order. The navy blue wool poncho needed to be exchanged for something fitted; something that she could go snooping in and not ruin. Montana searched through her trunk to see if she had a decent substitute and came up with a long-sleeved T-shirt and a thin yoga jacket.
She calculated she had a couple of hours before Jack and Cassie might return. Montana closed her eyes and concentrated on her mission. If she could prove to Ray that Margery Anne was in danger, then maybe Ray would be more proactive and less wait and see.
From where she stood on the Ryan’s property, Montana surveyed the neighboring property that sandwiched Armstrong’s. A small patch of woods separated it from the Ryan’s. The weekender house had a great deck with a good view of the rented house. She sprinted to a large tree and peeked around. The owners had stacked a large pile of wood not far from the deck. Montana ran to the wood pile. Completely hidden, she listened for any signs of anyone. Certain she was in the clear, she dashed to the deck stairs and crouched low, climbing to the edge of the top step and scrutinized her spying choice. Immediately, she saw the deck lattice design provided poor camouflage. Somewhat disappointed, she sat on a lower step and contemplated her next move.
Voices, loud and clear, totally recognizable, were headed right toward her. Adrenaline surged through her. She realized she needed a place to hide, fast. Under the deck she went, crawling over a rolled up garden hose. An old metal wheelbarrow tipped on its side shielded her. Margery Anne and Rob Armstrong were very close, but Montana couldn’t tell exactly where. Carefully, she repositioned her body in the shadows and wondered what they were doing.
Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) Page 11
