The Perfect Murder--A Novel

by Kat Martin

  Since he’d feel exactly the same if his own son were in danger, he’d grumbled his displeasure and simply nodded.

  Suite 1806 loomed ahead. As he walked next to her down what seemed like an endless hallway, the loud, orange-and-pink floral-patterned carpet rubbed on his nerves. No guards outside the door, no one around when they arrived. They moved close enough to the door to listen for noises coming from inside and heard the sound of voices. It didn’t take long to figure out it was just the TV.

  No one went in, no one came out. At the warning ding of the elevator doors sliding open, Reese pushed Kenzie up against the wall and kissed her. A man and woman engaged in a little harmless foreplay in the hallway outside their room wasn’t an unusual sight in a casino.

  It didn’t bother the older couple walking past, but it bothered the hell out of Reese. He was hard, seriously aroused, and wishing he could drag Kenzie into one of the empty rooms and take her, pound into her until both of them were sated.

  Not going to happen. Last night had been an anomaly. Kenzie had been exhausted and desperately in need of sleep. He was glad he’d been able to give her what she needed.

  The older couple moved past, turned the corner, and disappeared. No sign of Hawk. Reese knew he was there somewhere but didn’t really expect to see him.

  Another sound reached them. Along with the guest elevators, a service elevator at the end of the hall rumbled up and down the tower. The doors slid open and Reese caught the rattle of a food cart moving toward them along the passage.

  Kenzie moved before he did, pulling his head down and kissing him, hiding both their faces and their motive. Reese felt an immediate rush of heat. He couldn’t help wondering if Kenzie felt any of the arousal sweeping through him, caught the little sound she made in her throat, and thought that maybe she did.

  The cart passed by, pushed by a waiter in black slacks and a short white jacket who disappeared into a room at the end of the hall.

  Reluctantly Reese broke the kiss and took Kenzie’s hand. “Come on, baby. There’s something we need to do.” Pulling her along beside him, he stopped for a moment to text Hawk his plan, then continued toward the service elevator.

  “What are we doing?” Kenzie asked as the doors slid open and he pulled her inside.

  “I know how we can get into the room. But there’s something we need first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A waiter’s jacket.” Reese pushed the button for the first floor. “And I know just the place to find one.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were back on the eighteenth floor, Reese dressed in the black slacks and a short white jacket he had bought from a waiter for more than the guy’s last paycheck. The pants were a little too short, the jacket a little snug in the shoulders, but it was the best he could do.

  His feet were too big for the waiter’s shoes, so he still wore his scuffed leather boots. He prayed no one would notice. His hat and the rest of his clothes were out in the pickup, where he had hastily changed while Hawk kept an eye on the suite.

  It was almost noon. Reese gripped the handle of the food cart that rattled along in front of him, covered by a white linen cloth and a couple of domed silver platters. The smell of fried chicken and mashed potatoes drifted up from beneath the lids.

  As they approached room 1806, Hawk strode around the corner.

  “Go,” Reese said to Kenzie, who hurried toward Hawk down the passage. Hawk pulled her behind him, and the two of them eased back against the wall out of sight. Nobody spoke as Reese pushed the cart up to the door and pressed the buzzer.

  The TV still played softly. Good chance no one was in the room, but they had to know for sure. He knocked again. The sound of footsteps padding across the carpet was unexpected, the first evidence of an actual human being inside.

  His pulse kicked up.

  “Who is it?”

  “Room service.”

  “You got the wrong room. I didn’t order any food.”

  “You sure? I got two orders of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Says here it’s for suite 1806.”

  “I told you—I didn’t order it.”

  “Yeah, well, if it wasn’t you, I’ll have to take it back. I do that, it’ll just get thrown out. You might as well have it. No charge.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation. Then the door opened as far as the end of the security chain, enough for the guy inside to look into the hall. The black slacks and short white waiter’s jacket did the trick. The chain slid off, the door opened, and a short, muscular man with curly black hair stepped back to let him in.

  Reese pushed the cart through the door, jamming it open with the wheels as he pulled the pistol beneath his white jacket. “Hands up! Do it now!”

  The guy’s hands shot into the air, and Reese moved farther into the room, forcing the guy backward. Behind him, Hawk pushed the cart farther inside and followed, holding the guy at gunpoint while Reese sprinted for the bedroom.

  The bedroom door stood open. He panned the room with the pistol in a two-handed grip, checked the bathroom, and returned to the bedroom. The bed was unmade, the covers messy and tossed aside, but the room was empty.

  He looked up to see Kenzie running into the bedroom. He holstered his weapon and pulled her into his arms. “He’s not here, honey.”

  Her eyes filled. “Are you sure? That man in there—he...he’s one of the kidnappers.”

  Reese began to search the bedroom, looking for any sign Griff had been there. A single sock lay half exposed at the foot of the bed.

  “Is this Griff’s?” He held up a white athletic sock way too small for a full-grown man. There were red and blue strips around the calf.

  “Oh, God, Reese.” Kenzie took the sock and held it against her heart. “Texas Ranger team colors. Griff wore them to bed sometimes.”

  Reese looked at Kenzie’s grief-stricken face, and rage burned through him. “Griff isn’t here now, but he was.” He urged her back into the living room, over to where Hawk held the kidnapper at gunpoint.

  “He’s one of them,” Kenzie repeated. “He’s the one who hit me.”

  The scabbed-over scratches on the side of the man’s face reminded Reese of what he’d done and how hard Kenzie had fought him. Reese clamped down on a wave of fury that threatened to break through his iron control.

  “He’s going to wish he’d never touched you.” Moving closer, Reese backhanded the guy across the mouth hard enough to split his lip and send a spray of blood into the air. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Guy’s name is Eddie Fontaine,” Hawk said. “He’s one of DeMarco’s enforcers. I made a couple of calls on my way over, asked a friend in law enforcement for the names of the guys in Sawyer DeMarco’s inner circle. He gave me names and texted me photos. Eddie’s picture was among them. According to my source, he usually works with a guy named Nolan Webb.”

  Reese grabbed the front of Eddie’s shirt, jerked him up on his toes, and slammed him back against the wall. “I asked you a question. Where’s the boy?”

  Eddie wiped blood off his mouth. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Reese fought down a fresh rush of fury. He drew back and punched Eddie square in the face. Blood flew and Eddie slammed backward into the wall. Reese grabbed him again, dragged him over to a chair, and heaved him into the seat.

  “You’re going to tell me where he is.” He flexed his hand, ignored the scraped knuckles, and clenched his fist. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  “And if he gets tired of hitting you,” Hawk added, “I’m happy to take his place.”

  “Where’s the boy?” Reese pressed, his expression leaving no doubt what would happen if Eddie failed to answer again. He glanced at Kenzie, who was staring at him as if he were a man she had never seen before.

  Reese ignored her. “You really want to do this, Eddie? Because every time I hit you, I’m
going to think about the beating you gave Kenzie and feel really good.”

  Eddie’s jaw jutted out. His gaze went from Reese’s furious expression to Hawk’s hard-edged, determined one.

  He let out a defeated sigh. “God’s truth, I don’t know where the kid is. Nolan and a couple of the boys came and got him early this morning. No idea where they were taking him. Wasn’t my problem anymore.”

  Reese punched him hard enough to knock the chair over backward, spilling Eddie onto the floor, his head hitting with a melon-like thump.

  “That one was for Griff.” He and Hawk righted the chair and Eddie slumped back in the seat, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

  “So you don’t know where they took the boy,” Reese drawled, a hint of Texas slipping out.

  “No.”

  “Make a guess,” Hawk commanded.

  Eddie managed to shrug, but Reese could see the fear in his small black eyes. “On my mother’s grave, I don’t know. DeMarco owns property all over the state. Could be anywhere.”

  Reese dug into the front pocket of Eddie’s jeans and pulled out his cell phone. Looking into the contacts, he spotted Nolan’s name.

  “I’m going to call Nolan and you’re going to ask him where he took the boy. Say anything else and I shoot you dead. Understand?”

  Eddie nodded.

  Reese hit the dial button and put the call on speaker. He pulled out his .45, racked the slide, and pressed it against Eddie’s temple.

  The phone went straight to voice mail. Reese hit the button again, same thing.

  “Phone must be turned off,” Hawk said.

  Reese tossed the phone to Kenzie, who caught it and tucked it into her purse. While Hawk used zip ties to bind Eddie’s hands and feet, Reese went into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, returned, and stuffed it into Eddie’s mouth. Two zip ties around his head held the gag in place.

  Reese and Hawk dragged Eddie into the bedroom closet, dumped him on the floor, and closed the door.

  “They won’t find him for a while,” Hawk said darkly. “With any luck, not until tomorrow.”

  “Let’s hope it’s long enough for us to find Griff.”

  Time was running out. Reese was surprised a call hadn’t already come in from DeMarco or one of his henchmen to check on the progress Reese was making with the rig. Knowing he couldn’t hold off much longer, this morning Reese had phoned Derek Stiles.

  “The lawyers are almost finished with the documents,” Reese had said. “Get hold of Sea Titan and give them the bad news. Tell them we want the deal canceled ASAP.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this now? The troubles with the Poseidon have really been smoothing out. I think we’re back on track to get everything done and close the purchase.”

  “Another problem’s come up. Canceling is the only way to solve it. Get everything ready, but don’t pull the plug yet, not before closing time on Thursday night. Got it?”

  “You’re the boss. Whatever you say.”

  Clearly Derek wasn’t happy. But a little boy’s life was at stake. Even backing out of the purchase might not bring Griff home.

  He thought of what could happen to the boy, and worry churned through him. He forced himself to concentrate. Now was not the time.

  Reese stripped off his waiter’s jacket, leaving him in his black T-shirt and borrowed black slacks, set a hand at Kenzie’s waist, and urged her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

  No one spoke as they left the suite. Not as the three of them rode the elevator down to the bottom floor and crossed the casino on their way to the parking lot.

  They stepped out into the afternoon heat but as Hawk set off for his black Yukon, Kenzie stopped Reese with a hand on his chest. “I’ve seen you fight. I watched you with that big mechanic. But what happened up in that room...that was different.”

  Reese made no comment.

  “There was something in your eyes. I think you could have killed that man.”

  He didn’t deny it. When he was younger, there’d been a time he’d been close to committing murder more than once. That time was over. The man he was then was dead and buried.

  Except that he wasn’t. Not completely. Kenzie had no idea the lengths he would go to in order to protect the people he cared about, a group that now included Kenzie and her family.

  “He hurt you,” Reese said. “He won’t do it again.”

  Kenzie fell silent. They crossed to the pickup and Reese helped her inside, then slid behind the wheel and fired the engine, setting the air conditioner in motion.

  “I need Eddie’s cell phone,” he said as they idled in the parking lot.

  Kenzie handed over the phone and Reese pulled up Recents and scanned the list. A call had come in at eight o’clock that morning, caller ID Nolan.

  As the truck continued to run, cooling the interior, Reese phoned Tabby. “I got one of the kidnapper’s cell phones, Tab. There’s a number on it I need you to ping. Belongs to a guy named Nolan Webb.” He explained that they’d found Griff’s location, but by the time they’d arrived, the boy had already been moved.

  “Webb was with him when the men picked him up. I’m hoping they’re still together at the new location.” Reese was counting on DeMarco keeping Griff alive at least as long as the Poseidon deal was still in motion.

  “You have Webb’s number?” Tabby asked.

  Reese checked the screen and rattled off the digits, which started with Shreveport area code 318. “I tried calling him earlier, but the call went straight to voice mail. Hoping you can do something that will help.”

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as can. It might take a while.”

  “Thanks, Tab.” Reese tossed Eddie’s phone back to Kenzie.

  “You think there’s a chance this will work?” she asked, tucking the phone back into her purse.

  Reese put the truck in gear and drove out of the parking lot. “Let’s hope so.” Because they didn’t have much of anything else. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  But if something didn’t break soon, their luck was going to run out.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Griff shivered. There was no air conditioning and though it was burning hot in the tiny, airless bedroom, he couldn’t seem to get warm.

  His eyes stung with tears. He wasn’t in the fancy hotel room anymore, that was for sure. Just a dirty old wooden shack out in the swamp.

  At least he was still alive. He thought he’d be dead by now.

  Just before the sun came up, Nolan had come into the room with two other men, big burly dudes who liked kids even less than Eddie. They had jerked his arms in front of him and bound his wrists together with plastic ties, tied his ankles, and stuffed a gag in his mouth. They’d put a bag over his head, lifted him off the bed, and dumped him into a laundry cart.

  A rattling elevator took him down to the bottom floor. The next thing he knew they were loading him into the trunk of a car and slamming the lid.

  He’d started crying then. Last night, he had pulled off Eddie’s ski mask and seen his butt-ugly face. When Nolan and his creepy friends showed up, they didn’t bother with disguises. He knew what they looked like. That was how Griff knew they were going to kill him.

  He’d thought it would be over by now.

  Instead, after what seemed forever but was probably less than an hour, the car pulled off the highway onto a bumpy road. He was sweating inside the trunk, so scared he was afraid he would wet his pants and embarrass himself. He could feel the car turning this way and that, following some kind of curvy lane. Out in the boonies, he figured, where they could dump his body and no one would ever find him.

  Not even his mom and Reese.

  His throat clogged up and his eyes watered.

  During the uncomfortable ride, he’d managed to spit out the gag and scrape the hood off his head, b
ut it was too dark in the trunk to see. When the car braked and finally stopped, he took a deep breath and gathered his courage. He wasn’t going to die crying and begging. No way.

  Then the trunk lid popped open and he was surprised to see a dilapidated old cabin among the trees, mostly hidden by tall grass and thick green leafy foliage. The ground was wet and swampy, so the cabin sat on stilts a couple of feet off the ground. Through the undergrowth, he caught a glimpse of water slugging its way along an overgrown creek.

  The two men lifted him out of the trunk. They were wearing guns but they didn’t shoot him, just carted him into the cabin, into a tiny bedroom that smelled like a dead rat or something worse, and tossed him up onto a saggy bed with a rusted iron headboard and creaky springs.

  They didn’t say a word. He flinched when Nolan pulled his pocketknife, but the guy just leaned down and cut the plastic tie around his ankles and the one biting into his wrists.

  “There’s no way out, so you can forget trying to escape. Even if you managed to do it, there’s nowhere to go.”

  Griff glanced around. There were windows, but they were all boarded up. The only way out was the old plank door they’d come in through.

  “Sooner or later, someone will show up with food,” Nolan said. “You need to take a piss, use the bucket in the corner.” Nolan walked out of the room and closed the door, latching it behind him.

  So here he was, still alive. He wasn’t sure why until he heard Nolan say they needed him for something called proof of life during a phone call tomorrow morning. After that, they could get rid of him.

  Griff closed his eyes, trying to hold back more tears. He figured they wouldn’t want blood all over the cabin, so they would probably take him out into the woods to shoot him.

  He thought about what might happen once he was out of the cabin, but instead of getting more scared, his eyes popped open. It was thick and swampy out there. If they didn’t tie his hands and feet, maybe he could find a way to escape. He was a Boy Scout. He’d been camping more than once, and he wasn’t afraid of snakes. Well, maybe the poisonous kind. But he could figure that out as he went along.