Vengeance: An Action-Adventure Novel (A Jon Steadman Thriller Book 3)

by Nellie Neeman

  ***

  Los Angeles

  There was something about Davis that rubbed Bernie the wrong way. The kind of guy that always had an angle, never considering the results of his actions. He could imagine Davis had made some enemies along the way. If he had to guess, the list Davis gave him was missing a few names. Still, Bernie would start with what he was given. Then check out the man himself.

  There were several Ryan Cooks on social media. Three whose profile indicated LA as their hometown. One that was in Davis’s age range. Of course the Ryan Bernie was looking for could be off the social media grid, but it was a place to start. He sent a screenshot to Davis who confirmed it was the right guy.

  Digging deeper, Bernie found an announcement in the paper from six years prior. A wedding announcement. Facebook showed the man’s travel photos, smiling shots with an attractive blond who bore a mild resemblance to the photo he’d previously found of Nicole Davis. The most recent post was the couple’s video of their baby gender reveal. Bernie was convinced Cook had moved on, past his resentment of Davis stealing his girl.

  Next up was the ex-wife. He Googled her name, coming up dry. No Francine Corbett Davis there or on social media. Odd. He'd need to look further. While he was logged in, he checked the final name on the list. Davis’s old boss. Deborah Frost, owner and managing partner of Frost, Keating & Goldin, a mid-size law firm specializing in personal injury.

  Bernie searched for the woman on LinkedIn. A bookish woman in her early sixties, she had built up her father’s firm to twice its original size. He made a note to check if she or the other partners had ever been accused of libel or slander. By the looks of her, a strategic personal attack on Davis seemed unlikely. But Bernie knew all too well that looks were deceiving.

  Chapter 32

  Los Angeles

  Jon gave Luanne credit. Instead of knocking herself for not sticking to her guns, she was going with the flow. Definitely not Type A. He liked her. Her humor and her lack of inhibition. She was smart and did her own thing. Didn’t seem to care what anyone else thought. He imagined her meeting Granny and smiled to himself. That would be some interaction.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Just thinking. Last few hours were outstanding.”

  “Outstanding, huh?” Luanne asked.

  “Yeah, you have a better description?”

  “Mind blowing. Life altering. Testosterone confirming.”

  “Wow. No self-esteem issues, I gather.”

  “Not anymore.” She took another toke. Offered it to him.

  Jon said, “I’ll pass. I’m inhaling enough without actually putting it in my mouth.”

  “That’s why you’re so relaxed.”

  “If you say so.” They both started giggling.

  “You laugh like a girl,” Luanne said.

  “You smoke like a guy.”

  Both giggled again.

  Jon turned serious. “Lu, I’m not a wham, bam, thank you ma’am sorta guy. No one-night stands.”

  “Glad to hear it. I still think you should take some downtime between bed partners.”

  “I haven’t been with Mel in months.”

  “Yeah, you already said that. But your head has.”

  “How about a topic change?” He grinned, “Wanna grab something to eat? I’m famished.”

  “That’s the weed. I’d rather stay in bed where it’s warm and cozy.”

  “Okay, I’ll bring something in then. What do you want?”

  “Well, if you’re going anyway . . .” She proceeded to list fifteen things she was craving.

  “You must be joking.”

  “Not even a little.”

  “That should take me an hour to check everything off,” Jon said.

  “Try to do it faster.”

  “Why?”

  “Because once I’m full, I’ll want to go for another round.”

  Jon’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He jumped out of bed, speed dressed and said, “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

  When Jon returned Luanne was in the same position, in bed, hair tousled. Thankfully, the joint was gone.

  “I come bearing food for an army.” He handed her the packages, which she carefully set down beside her.

  “Ooh. Thanks, Jon. Breakfast in bed?”

  “Sure.” He hopped in, opened the box of glazed donuts, took a bite.

  “It’s weird, Doug coming out here and all. Maybe I’ll check up on him.”

  Luanne wiped ketchup off her face. Took another french fry. “Sounds like you guys have a really weird relationship.”

  Jon shrugged.

  They ate in silence until Jon’s phone rang. He looked at the display. “Speaking of the devil.”

  Luanne listened to Jon’s side of the conversation. He hung up.

  “We have a break in the case. He wants me to meet him downtown at the field office.” Jon put the donut box on the bedside table. He stood up, brushing powdered sugar off his pants.

  “What about round two?” Luanne asked.

  “I wish. But I need to go. Raincheck?”

  “Definitely. Hey, what do you think about my joining you? If your boss will okay it. I have all my notes right here. Maybe I could help.”

  Jon thought a moment. “Good idea. Get dressed and let’s go.”

  “What about asking your boss?”

  “I’ve learned it’s better to apologize after the fact than ask in advance.”

  Luanne gave him a look. “Terrific. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  ***

  FBI Field Office

  Los Angeles

  Matthews was waiting in the lobby when Jon entered, accompanied by a young woman dressed in black, down to the ripped jeans. She sported a skull nose ring, and her jet black hair was tinged with an unnatural shade of maroon. “Who’s this?”

  Jon said, “Luanne Parker . . . sir.”

  Matthews shook the young woman’s hand, wondering how kids these days ever got past the interview process. They had no concept of proper attire or appearance. He looked back and forth between the two young people and picked up a vibe. It wasn’t just professional. “You’re the one who called me?”

  “Yes, sir. Sorry about that . . . and about your wife.”

  Matthews nodded solemnly.

  Jon said, “I thought given Luanne’s involvement in the case, she may be of help.”

  Matthews gave Jon a withering glance. “Next time ask me first.”

  “I apologize.” He looked at Luanne, who smiled.

  Matthews said, “Everything is off the record. Understood?”

  Luanne nodded.

  Matthews led them to an empty office and shut the door.

  “So, what’s the update?” Jon asked.

  “We got a call from the CEO of ItsRelative.com. Two people have asked for sick leave since he made the announcement.” He put their names up on the board.

  Jason Wang

  Carly Weiss

  Matthews said, “We’ll watch them both. We should have an answer by day’s end if either is really sick.”

  Luanne said, “People take sick days for other reasons.”

  Matthews looked at Jon. “Yes, I know very well.”

  Luanne picked up a pen from the table and began chewing on it. “What good is it even if you find these people playing hooky? Doesn’t mean they’re the culprits.”

  “True, but the opposite is also true. If they are up to no good, we may get ‘em.”

  ***

  Bernie pulled out the list Davis gave him and went to work on the co-worker and ex-wife. Using an online background-checking service, he found nothing remotely incriminating about Deborah Frost or her law partners but managed to track down the ex.

  Francine Davis, now forty-one, had remarried shortly after the split from Theo, and followed her new husband to his hometown of Salt Lake City. The marriage lasted four years, but she’d remained in Utah and kept his name.
She now went by Francine Oakley. She had two license suspensions for DUI. No jail time. One dependent. A self-described part-time caregiver, she had held a string of low-paying jobs.

  Bernie spent the next hour mining for info . . . on his client. Over the course of thirty years of investigating, he’d learned to begin his digging with the ones who hired him. Frequently, there was more to the story than they chose to disclose. On the surface, Theodore Davis had a boring life. Good job, married, small child. On the surface.

  Bernie was ready to call it a night, pick up in the morning where he left off. He was starving, glad to have a deep-dish pizza in the fridge. He’d bought it several days ago, so he’d better eat it soon. His last email of the day went to his IT guy—one of the best in the business—even if he occasionally operated outside the fuzzy lines of legality. Bernie had come to trust him.

  He typed, asking for Davis’s credit history, past legal battles or arrests. He gave what he knew about the separate child support bank account. If there was any dirt on Davis, he’d prefer to know before diving head first into the case.

  Bernie shut down his computer and went to eat his cold pizza.

  Chapter 33

  Santa Fe, New Mexico

  Abigail Saunders didn’t want to tell her mom about her creepy feeling. Not because their relationship was strained, but because it was so strong. Her mother would only worry. Maybe even call the police. When it came to her only child, Abby knew her mother tended to overreact. Besides, it was only a feeling. Like something primal from a previous era, telling her she was being watched, followed.

  It was probably just Grant, her boyfriend from junior year. Her friend Sarah told her he never got over the breakup, saying he’d never dated someone so beautiful. Light brown complexion, azure eyes. But why wouldn’t he just come up to her and talk? He’s weird. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

  The problem was her gut was telling her it wasn’t Grant. He might be weird, but he wasn’t a stalker.

  The first time was nearly a week ago. Her last class of the day had been canceled, and they were given permission to leave school earlier than usual. Rather than wait for the bus, she decided to walk home. It was only half a mile in broad daylight. She must have turned around ten times between school and home, sensing eyes on her. Relief came when she walked through the door to hear her mom’s predictable, “Hi, honey. How was school?” So relieved, in fact, she decided the whole episode was a figment of her overactive imagination.

  But now, two days later, as she walked down Canyon Road toward her mother’s art boutique, the feeling returned. She picked up her pace, considering maybe that instinct was actually there to protect her. She walked through the shop to the back, entered the studio, and found her mother working at the pottery wheel, her hands covered in clay. “Mom, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  ***

  Los Angeles

  Theo sat on his poolside lounge chair, his laptop propped up on his legs, Lizzy’s plastic raft at his feet. It was a spectacular December day, the sky a robin’s egg blue, not a hint of smog. Who said you needed four seasons?

  Nic was running errands, giving him the opportunity to work outside without interruption. The stress of recent days was getting to him. He needed fresh air, a change of scenery.

  Theo powered up his laptop and instantly noted an email from someone named William Sherman. It was marked urgent. A tingle in the back of his brain. He knew American history. After all, he’d named all his kids after important American icons. Sherman was an alias. He opened the email.

  Mr. Davis,

  By now both you and your wife will have received my mailing. You may be wondering why no demands have been made. That is because I have none. My objectives are solely for my knowledge which I have no intention of divulging at this time. Suffice it to say you have earned these actions I am taking. Your deceit and immorality need to be addressed. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. Accept your fate as you have played with the fate of others.

  At the bottom, was a thumbnail of a photo. Fear filled Theo as he clicked on the image of his daughter Abigail.

  The sight of his eldest daughter was distressing. Mostly because this time it was a current photo. She was walking along what appeared to be the artist colony road in Santa Fe. He’d been there once. The picture was taken with a long-range lens. Abby was wearing a colorful sweater, carrying her knapsack on her back. Someone was following his kid. Whoever this was had crossed a line. It occurred to him, that surely the sender could have found Nic’s email and sent the same to her. The guy—if it even was a guy—was playing with him. Like a cat with a mouse before killing it.

  Theo heard the school bus come to a stop in front of the house. A minute later, the door opened. “Daddy!” he heard.

  “Out here, sweetheart.”

  If the picture was meant to scare him, it succeeded.

  ***

  When Theo clicked on the photo, Wang’s virus snuck inside. Theo’s location, audio and video were now accessible to Franklin. The computer’s camera light would never turn on. Franklin was amazed how naïve people could be, thinking they still had any measure of privacy.

  Franklin studied the man’s face. It was an odd feeling. He allowed himself a moment of joy at seeing the man’s distress, his lips parted in stunned disbelief. The view behind him was of a kidney-shaped pool, colorful landscaping. Opulent. It made him angry. The malware pinpointed the man’s precise location.

  ***

  Santa Fe

  Janelle heard her phone buzz. She quickly washed the paint off her hands, put in her earbuds and answered the call. Her hands free, she gathered her paintbrushes, bringing them to the slop sink. “Hey, Theo. Been a long time. How are you?”

  “Okay. How’s Abby?”

  None of the usual small talk. “You okay? Your voice sounds funny.”

  “Just wondering if anything strange has been going on.”

  Jan knew Theo long enough to be on alert. She stopped what she was doing. “What’s going on?”

  “Please answer me.”

  Jan sighed. “All right. About a week ago, Abby thought someone was following her. She was pretty shaken up, so I called the local police and filed a report. Since then, Mike’s been escorting her to and from school every day.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Come on, Theo, we aren’t exactly in regular touch.”

  He was quiet.

  “Sorry. Listen, if there had been something definitive, I would have called. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, okay. Say hi for me.”

  Sensing he was about to hang up, she said, “Wait, what made you call to ask?”

  A pause. Then, “I’ve been getting some strange mail. Just wanted to make sure everyone I care about is okay.”

  Jan got one of her dark feelings. Since moving to Santa Fe, she’d come to trust them. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Same rule . . . if it’s something big, I’ll let you know. Just glad everyone’s all right. Need anything?”

  “No. We’re good. But, Theo—”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll keep you to your word.”

  ***

  Los Angeles

  Theo got off the phone, horrified that someone had been stalking his kid, taking her pictures to send to him. If whoever it was could get so close, would they hurt her?

  The email had accomplished something more than exploiting his fears. Tired of being a victim with no recourse, Theo resolved that no matter what happened, he would find this sicko and destroy him once and for all. He picked up the phone and called the P.I.

  ***

  Bernie was shaving when his phone buzzed.

  “Patton!” No hello. “You gotta find this guy. Now.” Davis explained the situation. He sounded edgy, angry, and scared. “I need you to go out to Santa Fe. Make sure my daughter’s safe. The guy could still be there. You could track him.”

  “It’l
l cost you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Fine, I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”

  Bernie was about to hang up when over the line he heard a door open, a young girl chattering away happily.

  “Please, Bernie.” Theo changed his tone, using the PI’s first name. “I don’t want to lose my family,” he whispered. “I can’t go through that again.”

  “Understood. Keep your phone accessible. Now, go make your wife and kid happy, and let me do my job.”

  ***

  As Theo disconnected the line, he had a flash of inspiration. A family vacation. It was long overdue. Nic wouldn’t question it. Lizzy was starting winter break. Their last trip was over a year ago. Now was the perfect time. It would surely make his family happy. And he could go off the grid, giving Patton a chance to find the miscreant before the next damning mail arrived.

  ***

  Bernie’s phone dinged with an incoming email. It read, “Thought this would be of interest.”

  Sure enough, his IT guy got access to the private account. Bernie scrolled through the lengthy list of transactions. Regular payments to a Janelle Saunders. Child support for Abigail. He expected the records to go back eighteen years. They went further. A separate group of monthly payments had stopped nearly ten years ago. As was often the case with his clients, Davis was hiding something.

  Bernie let out a loud yawn. He needed a nap. Only one thing left to do. Before he closed his laptop, he booked a ticket to Santa Fe.

  Chapter 34

  Santa Fe

  Bernie drove slowly down Canyon Road looking for the address. The town was different and . . . special. Surrounded by the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, the vibe felt mystical. Mom n’ Pop shops extended for several blocks. What was a dying retail breed in most of the country, here they appeared to thrive, lending the city its distinct, artsy flavor. Galleries displayed an eclectic variety of Native American crafts, pottery, and handmade jewelry.