by Chad Zunker
“We’ve found all but one so far,” Frank explained, pushing the conversation along. “We have addresses, contact info, photos, and we’ve put together detailed profiles on each of these men. Everything is in the report.”
“Who’s still missing?”
“A man named Benjamin Dugan. He disappeared near Memphis around fifteen years ago after his wife died from cancer. Those who knew him back then said he fell hard into drugs and alcohol and lost everything. Dugan started living on the streets until one day he was just gone. No one seems to know what happened to him. He doesn’t collect any state or government funds or benefits. No license renewals on record. We have loose trails into Arkansas, Mississippi, and Oklahoma. Dugan has an adult daughter who still lives in Memphis. She says she hasn’t heard from her father in years. She believes he’s dead. We’ll continue to hunt him down until we confirm it.”
The other man nodded. “What about the money drop?”
“The two men in Texas are the most likely culprits—simply because of geographic proximity—although I suppose any of these men could’ve used an outside player to pull off this kind of job. As you’ll read in the report, the two men in Texas both have money issues. Our boy in Wyoming does not. But you can never be certain with the motivations on this kind of thing.”
“Can you confirm any of these men being in or around Austin?”
“Not yet. Mind you, my team was not yet tracking each man closely, as we had just gotten started. However, I do have a man on each of them now. So far, the ten grand in cash hasn’t shown up. We’re monitoring bank accounts. If it’s one of these three guys, we’ll eventually discover it. We just need to be patient.”
“It’s not necessary,” said the man, stuffing the report and photos back into the folder. “We already have what we need. Final payment will hit your account tonight.”
“You want us to pull out?” Frank questioned, surprised.
“Correct.” The man stood. “Good day to you, Mr. Hodges.”
Gathering his briefcase, the man quickly left the hotel suite.
Still sitting there, Frank pondered his unexpected dismissal. Something didn’t sit right in his gut. There was still work to do if his client truly wanted to identify who was behind the extortion. Why not let him finish the job? All he needed was more time. Standing, Frank walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He got paid a lot of money to do his job without asking unnecessary questions. That’s the only way the system worked with private security. Most days, Frank considered it a beautiful marriage. But these were navy veterans. Men who’d served their country, much like he had. Was his client desperate enough for an immediate resolution that he would go to extremes to get it?
NINE
Melissa lived in a picturesque three-bedroom yellow house with a white fence out front in an affluent neighborhood near downtown. The lawn was meticulously landscaped, with colorful flowers in all the beds, the sidewalks all properly edged. The property looked pristine. A shiny burgundy Land Rover sat parked underneath a carport. David spotted a tiny white poodle yapping away from a window beside the white front door. David knocked twice. Melissa opened the door looking gorgeous in a short white dress with heels.
“You ready to find your own place?” she asked, smiling.
“I guess so. Let’s do this.”
“Good. My Realtor friend is going to meet us at the first building. Give me just a few more minutes to get ready, okay?”
“Take your time.”
Melissa headed down a hallway. David did a quick once-over in a mirror near the front door, making sure he’d put himself together okay. He’d already put in four hours at the office that morning. Even though it was Sunday, and Thomas had suggested firm culture allowed for some freedom on that day, David couldn’t risk falling behind Tidmore. He’d showered in a hurry and thrown on a pair of designer jeans and a brown sport coat. He felt like a zombie but didn’t think he looked too bad. The poodle, whom Melissa called Abby, kept him close company, hovering and sniffing around his ankles the entire time. Melissa’s place was decorated to the nines, of course, and belonged in an interior design magazine.
When Melissa came back out of the bedroom, she somehow looked even more beautiful than she had a few minutes earlier. He told her how much he loved her home. She said the house was a graduation gift from her father—her parents lived only six blocks away. She acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal. David tried not to act too stunned. But he figured, in this neighborhood, the house had probably cost her father over $1 million. That was one hell of a graduation gift. Melissa clearly came from a different world—one David had wanted to be a part of since he was a kid.
Stepping outside, Melissa locked the front door, turned, and then stared at the street.
“David, you can’t be serious.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You can’t possibly expect to take me out on a date in that?”
He followed her eyes, stared at his tired and dusty old truck sitting at the curb in all its full glory, and laughed. “You haven’t lived until you’ve cruised around town in a ninety-nine Chevy Silverado, Melissa.”
“Ha ha. Look, we’re not driving around in that thing. You’re a hot new associate at one of the most prestigious law firms in this city. That truck does not suit you anymore.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, a new vehicle is definitely in my plans. I just haven’t had any time. I’ve been cooped up in my office all day and night. You want to drive your car?”
“No, but let’s make a detour on our way.”
The general manager at Land Rover Austin, a man in his fifties wearing a black polo and jeans, met them outside the front doors of the dealership, even though the place was closed on Sundays. Melissa had called him on his personal cell phone. His name was Ted Ludwick, and he told David he’d been heading the dealership for the past ten years. Melissa had mentioned that Ted was good friends with her father, since her dad swapped vehicles yearly. They made small talk with Ted as he unlocked the building and turned on a few lights. David felt a bit embarrassed about bothering the man on his off day. But Ted reassured them both it was perfectly okay. The man seemed used to this kind of treatment from wealthy clients. And Melissa clearly belonged in that category.
Melissa knew exactly what she wanted David to drive. She asked Ted to show them all the new Range Rover Sports on the lot. There were dozens of them. As they roamed, Ted began listing off the luxuries: the refined leather, the exquisite woods, the automatic and high-tech this and that. They were certainly incredible vehicles. Melissa wanted David to test-drive a shiny black one. Once inside, she opened the sunroof, turned up the stereo, and rolled down the windows. David had to admit the SUV moved with incredible power and grace, so unlike his Chevy, which jarred him at every turn. Melissa kept insisting that he just had to get the car, even though he’d noticed the sticker price was a whopping $85,000.
Sitting on the expensive leather, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, with Melissa damn near glowing in the seat next to him, David told Ted he’d take it. Melissa practically jumped for joy, throwing her arms around David like a giddy teenager. Ted said they could leave with the vehicle. He’d have the paperwork sent over to the firm the next day.
The Realtor’s name was Barbie, of all things, and David felt that she looked the part with her perfect blonde hair, ridiculous high heels, and a diamond ring the size of a bowling ball on one of her thin fingers. She was in her forties, and the tan and makeup were caked on thick. Barbie talked a hundred miles an hour, and her cell phone rang every thirty seconds. She made David feel dizzy from the beginning. She said she’d helped another lawyer recently buy a new house on Lake Austin and casually mentioned it cost $3 million. Barbie called it a steal.
They’d already seen two high-rise apartments within a few blocks of the office. They were both beautiful buildings with beautiful people behind the concierge desks. They were also both incredibly expensive, with
the smallest available one-bedroom unit going for $3,800 per month. The tiny garage apartment he’d rented in Palo Alto from the nice Korean lady had cost him only $500, with all utilities included. They were now standing inside the Austonian, which looked even more luxurious to David than the first two shiny buildings. David was about to tell Barbie to go find him something in the $1,000-a-month range when she let it slip that a Realtor friend of hers had just helped another newly hired H&K associate, William Tidmore, lease a unit on the thirty-first floor. David kept his mouth shut and rode up the elevator. Melissa reached over and held his hand on the way. They shared a smile.
On the thirty-third floor, Barbie opened the door to a 1,200-square-foot one-bedroom unit that was fully furnished. David was immediately drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was spectacular. With a look straight up the center of downtown, he was practically staring down onto the dome of the Texas Capitol building, sitting there in the middle of the city in all its pink granite splendor. Just beyond that, the sprawling campus of the University of Texas and the giant football stadium. The firm was only two blocks away. It would certainly be efficient.
Peeling his eyes away from the windows, he followed Barbie and Melissa around the rest of the condo and halfway listened as she described the immaculate countertops, the hardwood floors, and the spa-like bathroom features. The furniture was all contemporary and appropriately luxurious. A huge flat-screen TV hung on the wall in the living room. Not that he’d even have time to watch it. David shook his head. He was a hell of a long ways from the beat-up silver RV trailer back in Wink, Texas.
Barbie kept going on and on about the luxurious life of the Austonian. Tuning her out, David returned to the windows and the view. Melissa stepped up next to him, put her hand in his again as they stood there together. He had to admit this was all intoxicating. The glitz, the glamour, the prestige—the woman standing next to him. Everything he’d always wanted.
He thought of William Tidmore living below him.
“How much?” he asked Barbie.
“A bargain, David. Only six thousand a month.”
He swallowed. It was a ridiculous amount of money. But his head was literally in the clouds. “I’ll take it.”
They had dinner at Eddie V’s. Scallops, filet mignon, brussels sprouts, sautéed spinach, grilled asparagus, crab fried rice, and a bottle of wine. Melissa talked about her work at her father’s financial firm and how she would take over from him one day. David was scarce with information about his own life. He mentioned getting a scholarship to play football in college before getting injured. He talked about working hard to get into a top law school and excelling while he was at Stanford. He mentioned mock trial championships, law school honors, the big-firm offers he’d gotten from across the country, and his decision to join Hunter & Kellerman. He did not talk about living in an RV while growing up, only wearing clothes purchased at garage sales, or the four months they had actually been homeless.
Melissa excused herself to go to the restroom. David took a moment to try and process everything that had happened today. He tried not to freak out about all the money he’d already committed himself to in his very first week at the firm. He should be fine. He knew as long as he kept working hard, putting in the hours, and hitting his numbers, the money would be there. Still, it was a bit of a shock to his system. But this was the life he’d wanted.
Melissa’s phone buzzed on the table across from him. Looked like a text message. David wondered if maybe a girlfriend was checking in to see how her date was going. Out of curiosity, he reached over, picked up the phone, took a peek at the screen. He did a quick double take, stunned to find the name of his boss.
Marty Lyons: Any update?
David’s brow bunched. Lyons? Melissa hadn’t mentioned anything about knowing his boss. He quickly set the phone on the table when he spotted Melissa making her way back to their table from across the room. She settled back into her chair, and they continued to enjoy their meal together. David waited to find an opening to ask about Lyons. But he didn’t want to come right out with it, as he’d have to admit he’d invaded her privacy by looking at her phone.
“Does your firm have any clients at Hunter and Kellerman?” he asked.
“A few. Jaworski, Mendohl, Tyndall, Lyons.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, David, I don’t want your money. At least, not yet.”
TEN
Charlie Nicks loved to drink Budweiser and watch old John Wayne movies while sitting in his filthy sweat-soaked recliner until he passed out drunk. It had become his nightly ritual over the past six months—ever since Hilda, his last live-in girlfriend, had moved out. He’d met Hilda when she was waiting tables at the Waffle House. She was nice enough. Decent on the eyes. Been divorced only twice. She’d taken pretty good care of him for a while. But Hilda eventually wanted to become wife number four, and Charlie was done with weddings, marriages, and everything else in between. At sixty-four, he felt it was a complete waste of time. Just made the end of the relationship more complicated. Hilda wanted to know why their relationship had to eventually end. Why couldn’t they be together forever? This conversation had come up a lot in their last month together, to which Charlie usually replied, “Everything ends. One way or another. We’re all just passing through this miserable life. Now go get me a beer.”
Hilda had put up with him longer than the two gals before her. Neither of those old broads had lasted even three months. About two months had become pretty standard since Charlie’s last divorce fifteen years ago. Most women couldn’t handle his unique charm for much longer than that. He laughed at that thought as he grabbed his tenth beer of the night from the dirty fridge and stumbled back over to his brown recliner. The black mutt had decided to curl up in his chair while he was in the crapper. He pushed her away.
“Get out of here, Lucy! Go on, git!”
Falling into the recliner, Charlie found his glasses on the end table, slipped them on, and opened his beer. He leaned back and kicked up his bare feet as the recliner squeaked into position. With the remote, he turned the TV up to full volume. He didn’t have too many neighbors to worry about bothering with the noise. His trailer was down a dirt road near a dumping ground. Although it wasn’t prime property, Charlie liked it. He didn’t want neighbors. He just wanted to be left the hell alone. One of his favorite flicks was on the tube tonight: Rio Bravo. It was hard to beat the Duke and Dean Martin together. He’d seen it probably a hundred times, and it never got old. Charlie took a swig. Dozens of empty and crumpled beer cans littered the table and the tattered carpet around the chair. He hadn’t cleaned a damn thing since Hilda left.
He would clean the place one day. When he finally got lonely enough. There seemed to be plenty of old ladies out there who still wanted to feel needed by a man, even a loser like Charlie. In time, he would take a few garbage bags around his trailer, maybe pay the gal two trailers over a few bucks to spruce his place up a bit. He’d finally shower and shave, put on his best shirt and cowboy hat, and make his way down to the bar—see what broad he could convince that he was a good fixer-upper just waiting to happen. But he wouldn’t lighten up on the drinking. He’d chosen Budweiser as his true bride a long time ago. Eventually, the gals all made the mistake of asking him about it. That was usually the beginning of the end.
Charlie saw a shadow move near the hallway bathroom.
“Stay out of the damn toilet, Lucy!” he yelled, his tongue starting to slur. Stupid dog was always drinking out of the toilet.
When his eyes started to drift, Charlie cursed himself. He wanted to stay awake long enough to see the last gunfight. He loved that damn scene. But he couldn’t fight it. He was old and tired and drunk, and his body no longer had any willpower. He sensed more shadows in the living room with him but didn’t even bother to look. Lucy was probably on the couch again. Hilda always hated that. He sure missed that old gal. Closing his eyes, he heard gunshots on the TV. His lips curled up at the corners. Give ’em hell, Duke.
Charlie was snoozing when the gun was placed to his head.
Sammy Diermont hiked the Garden Creek Falls trail on Casper Mountain every Friday morning at sunrise. The hike had been a staple of his exercise routine for nearly fifteen years. The hiking, biking, and swimming had kept him in better shape, even at sixty-three, than most of the younger agents who worked with him at his insurance office. The 2.5-mile trail was steep in different places, with wonderful rock formations. The view from the top was spectacular.
Sammy always took about twenty minutes to sit there at the top and reflect on his week. Lately, as he neared retirement age, he’d been thinking more and more about his blessed life. Three of their kids had stayed local. Sammy got to regularly see his nine energetic grandkids. Only his youngest son, Rick, had ventured to California. Rick was still single and trying to find himself. Sammy understood that—he’d joined the navy as a young man for the adventure. Still, Sammy had a feeling Rick would return one day, find himself a nice girl, and settle down to have a family. The strength of family always brought them back home to Casper. They all had a good life here.
On most Friday mornings, like today, Sammy had the summit to himself. Sitting on a rock, he took a moment to look out over the vast Wyoming landscape. God’s country. He and his wife had moved to Casper forty years ago, right after Sammy had gotten out of the navy. It’d been the best decision of their lives. Casper had been the perfect place to raise the kids. They were part of a small and caring community. His insurance business had thrived. When he retired in two years, he’d be turning his business over to his oldest son. What a blessing.
