It was Rachel’s turn to laugh.
“Okay, okay, but I don’t think a gun battle in broad daylight in Sarasota, Florida would further our agenda,” she commented after thinking about what he proposed.
“No gun battles in the streets, Rachel,” he assured her. “I want you to hustle into the bank from a running car when we’re set, get your business done, and hustle out. They won’t have time to grab you going in. Coming out, you will know the bad guys or gals on sight. When they approach, you pepper spray the crap out of them, and stun gun them with no hesitation. Jump in the waiting car and away you go. I’ll be on a rooftop with a clear view of the scene. Any heavy action, I’ll handle. Any vehicles pulling out after you, same deal. Hopefully, we’ll know all the bad guys’ vehicles. I’ll disable them before you hit the bank. Remember, you’re in the right. If they have someone we didn’t count on in the bank, stun them and call security. Don’t use the spray inside.”
“Oh this sounds really simplistic.”
“The fun part starts when we get the flash drives and they launch an all-out manhunt for our asses in a spiraling search from ground zero out across the states. They’ll be desperate. The kid gloves will be off. That’s where our friends Grace and Tim come in. We need to pass off the drives to someone not on the payroll of this syndicate, who can get them high up the ladder. We’ll have copies of the drives, because they won’t want to deal with some of the folks who’ll just need killin’.”
“This will be a test of Grace and Tim too… won’t it?”
“I’m afraid so. There’s so much money loose on this deal, we can’t afford to trust anyone. I’d also hate to get those two killed.”
“They were the only reason I’m not stark raving mad. Doing a disappearing act is not as much fun as it sounds. I do not want to keep on the run with my daughter for the rest of our lives. I sure envisioned a different kind of day after our…ah –”
“Interlude?” Nick finished for her. “If I told you how many times our interlude flashed into my mind, even while we were all in danger, you’d probably promote me back to full psycho.”
“You Satyr!” Rachel leaped up out of the lounge chair, pointing at him. “I’d forgotten all about when Joe made us strip. You were popping right out of your underwear.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “Sometimes my priorities get a bit skewed at inappropriate moments. While you’re up, Sister Mary Rachel, get me another.”
Rachel giggled. She grabbed Nick’s proffered mug on her way inside. When she returned, she wore only a black thong. She handed him the mug over his shoulder. When he glanced back, he nearly ended up wearing the beer.
“I have a kink in my neck. Would you mind working it out for me like you did the other day?” Rachel sipped from her mug while turning the chair she had been sitting in around in front of Nick. She sat down on it with her backside perched out over the edge, leaning with her chin over the chair back.”
Nick set the now half-empty mug down near Deke, who lapped up the remainder without hesitation. Leaning forward, Nick splayed out the fingers of each hand near Rachel’s temples and his thumbs at the base of her skull. By rotating his thumbs into the jumble of nerves, he had her groaning audibly in under a minute. Slowly, he worked every inch of her spine, his thumbs methodically moving over and against her spinal column, while his fingers probed the shoulder area before trailing down with feathery caresses in tandem with his thumbs. With more freedom than the day before, he massaged the base of her spine with powerful upward pressure while gripping his fingers into her hip area. Rachel cried out, shuddering as she staggered forward, chair in hands, out of Nick’s grip. She spun around, breathing heavily, having tossed the chair aside.
“No fair,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling at him. “Let’s go.”
“I need a shower.”
“Later!”
* * * *
“How come you get up so early, Nick?” Jean asked, rubbing her eyes at the entryway into the kitchen, dressed in pajamas, robe, and slippers.
“About five to six hours is about all the sleep I care to have.” Nick looked up from his notebook computer, where the character Diego had just killed the hierarchy of a gang in East Los Angeles with a car bomb. “How are you feeling this morning, Danger Girl? You had a rough time yesterday.”
“Danger Girl,” Jean repeated, giggling as she walked over to pet the ever-present Deke, who rolled over for a belly rub. “I’m okay. That guy didn’t beat us up or anything. He told us to stay quiet or he would beat us up. I guess he’ll be pretty quiet himself now, huh?”
“That’s a very grim way of speaking, DG.” Nick saved his file and closed the notebook.
“Oh, right, we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead.” Jean grinned up at Nick, who immediately dropped his head into his hands.
“Keep it up, keep it up.” Nick covered his face in feigned exasperation. “It won’t be funny when you say things like that at the worst possible moment by mistake.”
“Okay.” Jean sighed, plunking down in the seat next to him. “I’ll be more careful. Hey, do you know how to make pancakes?”
“Absolutely.” He moved to the counter nearest the stove. He took pancake mix out of the cupboard along with a four cup mixing bowl. After collecting an egg and milk from the refrigerator, he gestured Jean over. “C’mon, I’ll show you how to do it, too, Danger. Do you like bacon with your pancakes?”
“Oh, yeah.”
* * * *
Rachel woke smelling the aroma of bacon drifting up through the house, one of the most tantalizing odors in the world. She sat up groggily, glad Nick had bullied her into her own bedroom after they had showered together. The thought of explaining to Jean a relationship change involving her suddenly sleeping in Nick’s bed did not appeal to her. The alarm clock on her nightstand read eight-thirty. She wondered idly how long her two cohorts had been up. After donning her robe, she made a quick trip to the bathroom before going downstairs. She could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. Pausing at the kitchen entryway, she saw Deke doing somersaults to get small pieces of bacon thrown to him. Nick noticed her, and gave her a quick salute.
“You’re just in time for breakfast.” He walked over to the oven and took the leftover pancakes and bacon out. “I saved you a plate all warmed up. Good thing you came down when you did. Deke is getting demanding.”
“Nick taught me how to make pancakes, Mom,” Jean told her. “He calls me Danger Girl, and Danger for short. I like it.”
“Wonderful.” Rachel grimaced as she sat down and took the plate from Nick, along with a napkin containing silverware. “You could have slept in at least until eight, Nick.”
“Diego waits for no one,” he stated solemnly, while placing a mug in front of her. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great. I don’t think I even moved. Did you already check the news?”
“There’s nothing on the internet. The local news starts at nine. I’ve been meaning to bring this up, but you two trouble magnets keep cramming our days full of adventure. I think it would be a good idea to dye your hair darker.”
“Mom already bought the dye at the store.”
“We should have done it in Monterrey.”
“Then they would have known.” Nick pushed Deke away from the table. “This way, maybe we get a little extra time.”
“These are really good,” Rachel pointed at her pancakes. “Did –”
The doorbell rang, and Deke ran to the door. Nick made a calming gesture.
“Easy…easy…not everyone in this town is out to get us.”
* * * *
Nick walked to the entrance and looked through the security eyelet. Two police officers stood on the front stoop. Nick looked them over carefully, from their shoes to how they wore their belts and badges. As the taller one reached for the doorbell again, Nick opened it, kneeling down to quiet the growling Deke.
“Good morning,” Nick greeted them.
“I
’m Officer Mendez, and this is my partner, Officer Carrington. Are you Roscoe Weatherby?”
“Yes?” He assumed a questioning look and stood up.
“May we come in? We have some questions for you about a missing person’s case.”
“Sure,” Nick said, opening the screen door, as Rachel and Jean came out of the kitchen. Jean beckoned to Deke and the dog went to her reluctantly. “This is my wife Rachel and daughter Jean.”
Some of the tenseness left the police officers’ faces at the appearance of Rachel and Jean. Rachel clasped Nick’s arm. She leaned into him with a natural grace.
“What’s this about, hon?”
“Something about a missing person,” he answered, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Would either of you like some coffee? We were having breakfast.”
“Sure.” The dark-skinned Carrington nodded with a smile. “I’ll have a cup if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Thank you,” Mendez added, following Nick, Rachel, Jean, and Deke into the kitchen.
Mendez and Carrington sat down at the kitchen table next to each other, opposite Rachel and Jean, while Nick poured two mugs of coffee. After placing the mugs in front of the officers, he set milk, sugar bowl, spoons, and napkins down too. He sat next to Rachel. Mendez took a picture out of his right breast pocket, setting the picture down in front of Nick. It was a picture of Carl Brewster with a fishing pole in hand, holding out a stringer with two trout.
“Have you seen this man?”
“The day before yesterday,” Nick replied, picking up the picture for a closer look and then handing it to Rachel. “His name was Carl something…”
“Brewster,” Rachel finished on cue.
“That’s it,” Nick agreed. “He said he worked security for a neighbor of ours we met over at the Excalibur. Apparently, when our neighbor’s husband goes out of town on business, Brewster watches over the mom, and the two kids.”
“Do you know the neighbor’s name?” Carrington glanced down at a notepad he had in hand.
“Benoit,” Nick answered. “We got together with Suzan Benoit and her kids. What’re the kids’ names, Jean?”
“Kelly and Garth,” Jean put in, smiling with enthusiasm, knowing she was playing a part in a very adult game.
“Do you remember what car Mr. Brewster was driving?” Mendez questioned in a more relaxed tone.
“I only glanced at it when he left, but I think it was a Toyota of some kind…silver colored. Is Brewster the one you’re looking for?”
“The woman he’s living with reported him missing when he didn’t come home. She said he left early Friday afternoon, saying he needed to check out something. Your address was on his day planner,” Mendez explained. “Did he say where he was going after leaving you?”
“He did say something about being late for a meeting with two associates, named Joe and Craig. Suzan didn’t say anything about him when we were over at the Benoit house yesterday. They’re coming over for a barbeque today. Should I ask her to call you?”
“No, we’ve been over to see Ms. Benoit already.” Carrington put away his notebook, and handed Nick a business card. “She told us she hadn’t seen Brewster since Friday. We found his Toyota already, but no sign of Brewster. Thanks for your cooperation, folks. If you remember anything else, please call us.”
“Sorry to have bothered you on a Sunday like this,” Mendez added, as the two police officers stood up.
“No problem.” Nick escorted them to the door.
“Will you be leaving us soon, Mr. Weatherby? Ms. Benoit said you stay in Las Vegas for short periods of time.”
“I’ll be here for another two weeks. I have business back East after that, but you can reach me –”
“Ms. Benoit gave us the number to reach you from your business card,” Carrington finished for him. “We’ll call if we think of anything else.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Weatherby,” Mendez added as the two walked out past Nick.
“Goodbye.” Nick watched them walk out to their squad car with the familiar buzz he inadvertently experienced when details flowed together around him to his advantage. Now if my Roscoe ID holds up, we may last through our two-week cushion.
“Everything okay, Nick?” Rachel joined Nick at the entrance with Jean and Deke.
“Everything’s fine for now. Nice going in there, both of you. The barbeque should be interesting later.”
Chapter Twelve
Information Gathering
Rachel and Jean walked into the living room where Nick watched the news. Both had towels around their necks.
“Hey, Nick, how do we look?” Jean asked.
He looked up from the television screen, doing a double take at the obvious change. Rachel and Jean had both dyed their hair a dark brown, with some lighter brown highlights.
“You two look totally different,” he stated approvingly. “I think brunette hair coloring would have made a less natural-appearing change. If we can pick up some colored contact lenses for you, Rachel, I think we’ll be in good shape. Do you wear contacts, by the way?”
“No, but any one of those eyeglass chains will have colored contacts. I was hoping you wouldn’t want us to cut our hair.”
“You can put it up,” he suggested. “When we go out, some kind of hat in addition to the hair color change wouldn’t be a bad idea. Those ball caps I gave you to wear out in the desert would be fine.”
“What’s up in the news?” Rachel moved behind Nick’s seat, while Jean sat on the arm of his chair. “Is that who I think it is?”
Nick returned his attention to the recovering California Highway Patrol officer going over Nick’s intervention in Bakersfield from his hospital bed. He had been watching the news cast with growing anxiety. “Yeah, he caught more of a look at the Chevy than I thought. Lucky us, he owns a Chevy Malibu as a personal car. With the half-baked statements from some of the on-lookers who hung around, the cops know the make, model, and color.”
“He just wants to thank you,” Jean said, listening to the heartfelt appreciation the officer expressed, his face swollen and discolored.
“He does.” Nick grinned over at Jean. “You should have heard the poor victim’s relatives. They want to sue. They want me drawn and quartered. How dare I take a hand in a private altercation when I knew nothing of the victim’s side? My help was a hideous overreaction. The victim nearly beat the cop to death because he’s a misunderstood youth and has unresolved issues with police authority. Blah…blah…blah…boo hoo.”
Both Rachel and Jean were laughing by the time he reached the end of his soliloquy.
“Since we have the Cad, are we still okay?”
“I don’t know. Everyone knows we were headed East. It will point people in our direction. We’ve already had a taste of how thoroughly people check out rumors lately.” Nick laughed suddenly, shaking his head. “On the other hand, no one who knew me would ever consider I’d stop to help a cop at the risk of betraying where I was headed.”
“You’re a little sick, Nick,” Jean rhymed with a giggle for emphasis.
“Yes I am, Danger. I’m also part psychic as well as psycho. I believe there’s more to Suzan and her husband than meets the eye. Her recognizing you and your mom was no coincidence. I’m hoping her run-in with death yesterday steered her in our direction. The cops visiting us this morning gave me hope she’s come to a decision.”
“Her two kids aren’t part of this game, Nick. You don’t –”
“I’m not going to harm Suzan, Rachel,” he stopped her, waving his hand with some degree of impatience and winking at Jean. “Let’s not go any further with this for now. Loose ends will either fall in place for us…or not. We’ll know soon enough.”
“You’re too much of a fatalist,” Rachel retorted.
“Or not enough of one,” he argued.
“Are you leaning toward cutting our stay short?”
“Not unless Suzan says something I don’t want to hear. There’s nothing on the news abou
t Brewster and his buddies yet. No news is good news on that front.”
“Would it be okay if Jean and I go shopping?”
“What, bathing suits aren’t enough for you two? Oh, all right,” he joked. “I put the stun gun and pepper spray back in the Cad glove compartment. Put them in your purse within easy reach wherever you go. Buy a few of those throwaway cell-phones too. I don’t want you using your cell-phone for anything.”
“About the buying part, we need money.”
“There goes the college fund, Danger,” Nick complained, as he stood up. “I’ll go pick some off the tree. Be right back.”
“I guess you’ll be writing?” Rachel asked, bumping Jean, who had immediately laughed at Nick’s money references.
“Yes,” Nick answered, on his way upstairs. “I think I’ll finally give Diego a steady love interest, who turns his life upside down, and bleeds him dry.”
* * * *
“Mom sent me up,” Jean announced from Nick’s open bedroom doorway, fighting off Deke. “She says it’s almost five, so Suzan, Kelly and Garth will be here soon. You’ve been writing all day. Is it really that much fun?”
Nick saved his file, and closed up the notebook computer. He pushed away from his desk and stretched before joining Jean and Deke at the doorway.
“Writing is an escape to a different world where I make things happen the way I want them to.”
“Cool.” Jean led him toward the stairs. “You’re like king of the world.”
“Exactly. If something bothers me in real life that I can’t do anything about, I use my fantasy world to make everything work out the way I want it to.”
“Maybe I can be a writer. How did you get started? Did you write stuff when you were my age?” Jean looked back at him questioningly as they went down the stairs, with Deke leaping the last few steps.
“No, not for quite a while, but I read a lot. Reading gave me an idea of what kind of fiction I liked to read. I loved action/adventure type fiction, so when I started writing, I wrote what I liked reading.”
“Mom says you write novels about an assassin.” Jean turned at the bottom of the stairs to face him with a smile forming. “I thought you said you write fiction.”
Cold Blooded Page 14
