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

by Nellie Neeman

  All gone in a flash. The day that turned his life around was seared into his memory.

  It was a rare smog-free LA morning. Francine wasn’t feeling well and she’d asked him to take their son to his friend’s house on the way to a deposition he’d scheduled downtown. It was teacher training day and the kids had a day off.

  The minivan slammed his Toyota on the back right passenger side, sending them into a dizzying spin, the car eventually landing on its side, resulting in a devastating fatality. Since that day, he hadn’t touched a drink.

  Theo served three years in prison on a manslaughter charge, participating in AA meetings, soon discovering he no longer loved his wife and filed for divorce—something they should have done long before. All they had in common was the drink. She never fought the divorce, never seemed to care enough—or wasn’t sober enough—to bother. He worried for his son but knew that was the one area in which he would never prevail. She was a functional alcoholic and more out of revenge than devotion to her child, she would never let him have their boy. They’d gone to court once when she refused visitation. His son was there in his wheelchair, staring at him with an expression Theo didn’t recognize. Was it resignation? Disdain? He was an invalid. Would be for the rest of his life and it was Theo’s fault. What had Francine told the boy? That after maiming him, his father had abandoned his own son? Theo’s hands were tied. Embittered, Francine threatened to press domestic abuse charges. He knew the judge would believe her. For years he’d agonized if he should have fought harder. He certainly had the money. But he came to believe his son was better off without him and seeing the boy in that condition would be a constant reminder of his past destructive ways. His only option was to walk away.

  Mercifully, he’d had his law license reinstated. When he met Nicole, he had already opened his own law firm. Slip and fall. He worked hard, putting in long hours and hiring only Ivy grads, paying off his loans in three years. The business did well from the get-go. He moved the family to a sprawling cliffside home in Laurel Canyon down the road from the Zappas. Nicole was supportive of the child support payments he made to Francine, never questioned them. But Abigail would be a different story entirely. A love child. Mixed race. Yes, that was an entirely different story indeed.

  “You still there, Davis?” He heard the PI’s voice from the floor.

  His hand trembling, Theo bent down, picked up his phone. “Yeah.” Reeling from Bernie’s accusation, he opened the minibar, and poured himself a glass of vodka, taking the first drink he’d had in twenty years. He drank greedily while listening to Bernie’s theory. It was preposterous. His son, an innocent child, was a victim of circumstance.

  The thought was swiftly pushed aside by the image of his AA sponsor shaking his head, popping into his mind. Take responsibility, he would say. Remember step nine—make amends to people you’ve harmed. He’d worked hard on the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, spending years reaching out to people affected by his drinking. But he’d missed the most important person.

  Franklin wasn’t a victim of circumstance. He was a victim of his father. Of me, Theo thought. For too long he avoided facing what he’d done to his only son, knowing it would take him to a dark place from where he may never escape.

  Bernie said, “We believe Franklin has been harboring a deep-seated anger and jealousy.”

  “Impossible. He was only seven when I left.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Davis, look at the photos he sent you. Swings, smiles . . .”

  “I wanted a relationship with him, but his mother wouldn’t allow it.” He knew he sounded pathetic. Maybe he should have tried harder, gone to see his boy regardless of Francine’s threats.

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn’t know that? Think about it from his perspective. His father—the person charged with keeping him safe—maimed and abandoned him. Then to add fuel to the fire, you had not one but two other kids—that you support. Kids whose lives he thinks of as charmed. He wants revenge.”

  Theo refused to accept that his sweet boy had turned into a vengeful criminal. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Bernie. He doesn’t have the physical abilities to do anything. And likely not the intellectual capacity either. Hacking into servers, stealing DNA samples, come on.”

  “You really have been out of touch. Franklin graduated cum laude from Brigham Young on a need-based scholarship. Whatever warped idea you have in your mind of your kid, you’d better readjust it if you want to come out of this unscathed.”

  Theo was stunned. Had his son actually gone to college? He digested this tidbit of his boy’s life. He was proud. And ashamed of his own surprise. He cleared his throat. “This is all just a theory because you can’t find the real culprit. I don’t believe my own child would seek to destroy me.”

  “Broken people are capable of awful things, sometimes beyond imagination.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  Theo heard the PI take a deep breath, then let it out. “If you want the mailings to stop and no longer live in fear of discovery, we need to be sure.”

  Theo took a moment, he thought of Nic, the true love of his life . . . and felt a crack in his resolve. He stared at the bottom of the now-empty glass, as if the answers could be found there, and whispered, “How?”

  ***

  “I’ve been skiing since I could stand,” Luanne said to Jon. She was seated on a bench, leaning over, locking her ski boots. Bernie was getting fitted for skis. “I may not look it, but I grew up pretty normal. My parents got season lift tickets at Heavenly every winter. I know the Tahoe area slopes quite well.” She eyed him, still in his jeans and Timberlands. “Can you ski?”

  Jon said, “It’s been years. Since before my injury.” He patted the side of his leg in emphasis. “Not sure I should get back out there.”

  Bernie walked over. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  Jon wasn’t too sure he agreed, but Theo consented to act as bait, so he’d do his part. Bernie deserved credit for coaxing Theo into it. If Franklin was in Tahoe, Theo would draw him out. “You two go ahead. I’ll gear up, but I’ll need a few runs on the bunny slopes to find my ski legs. If Franklin’s out here, that’s where he’s likely to be anyway.”

  Bernie said, “I’ll go with you. I’ll meet you outside.” He

  left, not waiting for a reply.

  “Me too,” Luanne said. She zipped her black ski bib and jacket, donned her matching fleece beanie, placing goggles atop, then attached her lift ticket to a zipper. She had to be the only goth skier this side of the Continental Divide.

  Jon pointed out the window to the chair lift, “Theo is over there. You’ve got the skills to stay close to him. Remember to call me if you see Franklin and I’ll take care of it from there.”

  “Roger that.” She left, stomping out like an astronaut,

  her skis slung over her right shoulder.

  Twenty minutes later, Jon stepped out into the bright sunshine. The snow had let up, though not before leaving another couple of inches behind. In this light, the mountain appeared diamond-studded. Now clad in proper attire, Jon dropped his skis to the ground in front of him and clicked in his boots. Luanne came to a hockey stop a few feet away from him, the snow dancing in her wake. “Woohoo! That was awesome!” Then, “No sign of Franklin.”

  Jon looked up at the mountain from where she’d come and felt a pang of apprehension. It had been years since he’d hit the slopes. He wasn’t sure his leg was up to the task. He patted his jacket pocket, annoyed with himself that he’d become accustomed to having his pills with him, and finding their presence a relief.

  “Can you hang out here a bit and keep an eye out for Oakley?”

  “On it.”

  Slowly, Jon made his way over to the nearby bunny hill. He spotted Bernie talking to a woman donning a ski school jacket. Jon raised a pole drawing Bernie’s attention and waited while the PI reached him. Bernie lifted his goggles to his forehead. “You’re looking good. Staying vertical.
The beginner’s level instructor is starting her shift now. I gave her my number to call if she sees anyone who fits Oakley’s description. The previous instructor already left.”

  “Hopefully we didn’t miss him. Just in case, Luanne will keep close to Theo and let me know if she spots Franklin. Why don’t you do the same?”

  Bernie considered it, readjusting his goggles. “Fine. If you find him first, call me pronto.”

  Jon agreed and watched Bernie and Luanne ski toward the nearest lift. Jon made his way to a T-bar that pulled him to the top of the bunny hill. To his left were several young children listening intently to an instructor, the sun casting shadows of their small, bundled bodies tilted over V-shaped skis. Jon hoped he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. He’d prefer not to be the butt of six-year-olds’ jokes.

  He pushed off. By the time he reached the bottom, he was relieved to know that Bernie was right. It was already coming back to him . . . Make the ‘s’ all the way down, body forward. Be prepared to fall if necessary. He allowed himself a mental pat on the back. If he managed to stay on his feet for the next few tries, and Oakley didn’t show, he’d move on to the greens.

  ***

  Franklin still couldn’t believe he was standing up . . . on skis, no less! The private lesson had done him well, better than if he’d joined the group class. He’d learned basic maneuvers. The technology of his prosthetics was incredible, allowing him to move as though they were his own legs.

  He was keeping an eye out for his quarry when he spotted a man around his age speaking to a woman wearing a black ski bib, her spiky hair distinctive. Something about her was familiar. Franklin lifted his neck muffler to cover his nose and mouth and watched as the guy headed for the bunny hill, approaching an older man standing near a ski instructor.

  Then it hit him. The woman. She bore a striking resemblance to the reporter working on what the papers were calling the OBooks insurance scam. Luanne Parker. The reporter he’d put a contract out on! The sight of her caught Franklin off guard, and he nearly tripped over his own skis.

  Regaining his balance, he turned to face the other direction, gliding slowly toward the lodge to avoid drawing attention. Panic filled him and it took all his restraint to remain on his feet. Franklin had never seen the younger man before, but the older one could easily pass for the driver who’d been scouting out his house back in Utah. If he was here in California, he must be a federal officer, the younger man his partner.

  Franklin waited for the panic to subside bolstered by the realization that they hadn’t noticed him. If he acted fast, he should have enough time to get his things from the condo and leave before they caught up with him. He would need to stalk his prey later. For now, his next step was obvious. Eliminate the clear and present danger.

  Chapter 44

  Squaw Valley Ski Resort

  Franklin entered the lobby of the resort’s main building. He was wiped out. If he never got back on a pair of skis again, he’d be fine. He needed to gather his belongings and find other lodging.

  He was making a beeline to the corridor when the annoyingly cheerful desk clerk looked up, smiling broadly. “Did your friends catch up with you?”

  Franklin looked over his shoulder. There was no one standing behind him. The penny dropped. No! “Friends?”

  The phone rang. She answered the call. “Squaw Valley Condos. Julie speaking. How can I help you?”

  Franklin interrupted her. “Are you sure you have the right guy?”

  Into the phone she said, “Please hold a moment.” She nodded. “From the reunion.”

  “Oh, right. Which of my friends was looking for me?”

  “I didn’t get his name, but he was about your age, the other was older.”

  The Feds. “Did you give him my room number?”

  “Sorry, we’re not allowed to do that. I’m sure you’ll see them later at the event.”

  She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was a sieve of information. She picked the phone back up and quickly got into a conversation. Franklin was momentarily frozen to the spot, unsure where to go. It was pure luck that he’d evaded the Feds until now. One thing was clear. He needed to move fast, find another hotel in spitting distance to his father. It would be hard with many people coming to town for the upcoming ski competition. Franklin needed help, desperately. The guy who took care of Wang was on standby and could be here in a couple of hours if need be. Franklin made the decision. As soon as he got to safety, he’d contact his hired hand, a man called Gerard.

  ***

  “Where the hell did he go?” Bernie and Jon were standing outside Franklin’s room. Jon had asked the chambermaid which rooms were wheelchair accessible. Following a short process of elimination, they identified Oakely’s. When no one had answered the knock, Jon took the liberty of letting himself in, using the skills he’d polished up on since Carrie’s death.

  Members of the U.S. ski team were staying at the facility, and he’d needed to time his entry to avoid them passing in the hallway. Still, it beat sparking an unnecessary red-tape mess if he’d asked for a key from the front desk. Getting a warrant would take too long. Didn’t matter, anyway. They were too late. Oakley’s stuff was gone. He must have been alerted to their presence and bolted. It seemed like they were always one small step behind him.

  Jon leaned against the hallway wall, pocketing his lock pick set. It was identical to the one his former partner—and Randy’s mother, Carrie—had used to become an expert. “He won’t go far. If he’s looking for revenge, he’ll stick around. He’ll try to find a way to get to Theo.”

  “You’re probably right . . . do you really think he’ll hurt his father?”

  “No idea, but in either case our best bet remains to stick to Theo like glue.”

  Bernie shook his head. “Forget it, he’ll never agree to that. His wife’s planning on skiing with him today. She’ll want to know why three people are tailing them.”

  “Davis doesn’t get a vote. My job is to find Franklin Oakley and bring him in for questioning. Determine if he’s responsible for the murder and extortion. One lowly philanderer is not going to keep me from nabbing the guy. If Theo’s outed, that’s too damn bad.”

  ***

  Alpine Meadows, California

  It took Franklin a couple of hours on his iPad’s personal hotspot, while loitering in the Walmart’s baby section to find an available room with an accessible shower. It was eleven miles from Squaw Valley, which was the best he could get. When he tried to pay, the credit card was denied. Could anything else go wrong? He decided to risk it and call his mother.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Frankie, where the hell are you?” Her voice was gruff, the result of years of smoke inhalation.

  “I took a vacation. I’m fine.”

  “Sure you’re okay. You’re partying with my credit card!”

  “What?”

  “You think I’m stupid or something? After all I’ve done for you! If you need a vacation so bad, use your damn disability money. Like I ever take a vacation. I’ve canceled the card, if that’s why you’re calling. Good thing that nice guy stopped by. Or you’d have sucked me dry!”

  “I always pay the balance, Mom . . . wait, what guy?”

  “The cop. Or whatever he was. He was official and all that.”

  That’s how they found me. My own mother! “What did he look like?”

  “What difference does that make? You trying to change the subject? You can forget it. He helped me see you’re a petty thief. Just like your useless father.” Her words were slurred.

  “Mom, for heaven’s sake, answer my question! Was the guy tall with a limp?”

  “Yeah. That’s him. How’d you know that? What sorta trouble are you in, boy?” Her voice was filled with suspicion.

  He hated when she called him that. And she knew it. “And you let him in the house!”

  “What else should I have done? Like I said, he was official. Don’t worry. I never let him near y
our sanctuary of a room.”

  At least she did something right.

  Franklin calmed himself. “Listen Mom, sorry about the card. I’ll find another way to pay for my vacation. If anyone else shows up, don’t talk to them. Got it?”

  He heard the familiar sound of the microwave dinging. Her dinner was ready. “Yeah. Gotta go now.” She hung up.

  “Nice talking to you too, Mom,” he said to himself. She was as loving as always. If ever there was someone with the most sullied gene pool, it’s surely me.

  ***

  Gerard stood perched at the top of the Enchanted Forest ski run. He was a skilled skier. One of few bonuses of having grown up in rural Vermont. The snow was different here, but the method was the same. Lean and just shy of six feet, he was built like a runner. He wore the red jacket of a ski patrol medic. Not exactly the typical thug. Which of course he wasn’t. He’d been educated at Cambridge University, majoring in Greek philosophy. Turned out there wasn’t much of a living to be eked out of the high-brow degree. Plato, Aristotle, Socrates... Morons!

  Gerard laughed at the Princess Bride quote. The movie was a classic. Growing up, he’d learned so much from what he deemed iconic films of the last century. During that same phase, he’d realized a particular ability to take care of unpleasant business without the weight of conscience. This skill, as he thought of it, proved significantly more profitable than a teaching position. It’s why rather than posturing in front of a classroom, he was now standing on a mountain slope, observing a young girl attempting her first green run.