Key Lime Pie (17 page)

“Oh,” Sadie said, nodding. “Race cars.”

Eric seemed a little startled by her simplistic answer. “It’s one of the most famous tracks in the country and hosts more championship races than anyone else.”

“So, Larry’s a race car driver?”

“No,” Eric said, almost chuckling. “He works in the back office—computers, printing; that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” Sadie said. She had more questions, but didn’t want to get any more off track than she already was. “So you told Larry about the call you received and . . .”

“Right,” Eric said, picking up the story. “It was eating me up not to talk to anyone.”

Sadie bit back a comment about how she’d have talked to him about it if he hadn’t purposely withheld the information from her.

Eric continued. “I knew he wanted information about Megan as badly as I did, and he even offered to loan me half of the ten thousand until the trailer sold. We decided to check out the GPS site together.”

Sadie’s heart rate increased as her eyes were drawn to his dirty shoes. “That’s where you went this morning.”

Eric nodded. “Before Larry had to go to work.”

“What did you find?” Sadie said.

“A box buried under a couple inches of soil,” Eric said.

“What was in it?”

“Megan’s
real
purse—the one she had with her when she disappeared from Key West,” Eric said simply, but the words seemed painful for him to say. “And this.” He reached into the front pocket of his cotton, buttoned-up shirt and pulled out a business card, handing it to Sadie.

She held it along the edges, not wanting to get her fingerprints on it, though she feared that with both Eric and Larry having handled it, any fingerprints the caller may have left behind would be destroyed. The front of the card showed a speedboat jumping over a wave—obviously Photoshopped since there was no way a boat could catch a wave that big by the shore like that. To the side of the graphic was the name of a company: Motorways Powerboat, Inc., with an address on 51st Street in Miami.

“Look on the back,” Eric suggested, and Sadie attempted to turn her hand, still holding the card by the edges. She had to tilt her head slightly to see the back since her wrist would only twist so far. In pencil was written today’s date and the time of 2:30 pm above one word:
alone.

“That’s where you’re going?” Sadie asked, turning the card over so she could read the address again.

“Yep.”

Sadie handed the card back to Eric. “But you have no idea what you’ll find there.”

Eric returned the card to his pocket. “I’ll find answers.”

But was that enough? “I really think we should tell Mathews,” Sadie said. “What if this is some kind of setup? What if something happens?”

“I don’t care,” Eric said calmly, shaking his head for emphasis. “I won’t risk
not
learning what he knows.”

“Did he
say
she was alive?” Sadie asked.

Eric shifted in his seat. This time he looked uncomfortable. “Not in so many words, but I think she is.”

Sadie remained silent for a few seconds, trying to choose her words as best she could. “When you and I talked about her at the courthouse,” she finally said, refusing to think about the almost-kiss like she did every time she remembered that afternoon, “you said you
hadn’t
believed she was alive all this time.”

“Why would he go to all the trouble of contacting me and leading me to her purse if he didn’t have something important for me?”

Sadie pondered that for a while, reviewing all the motives for heinous crimes she’d encountered over the last few months. “In my experience, money is the lowest motive of all, meaning the people who seek it at all costs—no pun intended—are the least trustworthy. If he wants money, then he can’t be trusted once he gets what he wants.”

“I don’t
have
the money,” Eric said. “The trailer’s been listed for about five hours. But I withdrew all twelve hundred dollars out of my savings account—that’s what took me so long this morning—and Larry got five thousand out of his. That gives me more than half. I’ll tell him I’ll pay the rest if I get Megan back.”

Sadie shook her head. “This is a mistake,” she said with absolute certainty. But she didn’t like the way Eric was leaning away from her ever so slightly. If he took the defensive,
she’d
be the one losing
his
trust. She looked at Eric and allowed herself to embrace the compassion she really did feel for him right now. Maybe her understanding would open his mind better than her attack. “I know you want him to help you, but this thing has so many red flags it looks like it’s on fire.”

“It’s all I’ve got,” Eric said softly, but with just as much determination.

“Then give it to the police and let them figure it out. They’re trained for this kind of work; they know what to do.” She felt like a hypocrite for advising him on something she herself had never done, or at least not done well. “I know what this guy said, but if the police can get a hold of him, they can get the information you need.” She looked at the dashboard clock. “We can call Mathews, and he can get something set up if we hurry.” At least, she hoped he could.

Eric shook his head, then checked his blind spot and moved to the right. Their exit must be getting close, which only increased Sadie’s concerns. “I
refuse
to take the chance of messing this up,” he said.

“You recently pleaded guilty for withholding information during a police investigation,” Sadie pointed out. “A second conviction might not go as smoothly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eric said again, very calm and confident. “This is what I’m doing.”

Sadie reflected on how differently he was behaving now compared to when they’d talked in the car before lunch. Then, he’d been gracious and sweet. Now he was rather dominating and dismissive of everything she said; he wasn’t even trying to consider her thoughts on the situation. Gayle’s assumption that Sadie’s trip to Florida would give rise to some kind of romance seemed rather silly now. Maybe it was just circumstances . . . but maybe not. Sadie didn’t dwell on those thoughts for long, however, they weren’t what was important right now.

He moved into the exit lane and took the North Miami Avenue off-ramp. Sadie tried to think of another argument; surely there was something she could say that would help him see what she believed he was missing in the scenario. And yet she couldn’t ignore the question of what she would do if this were her child. If she believed the police could ruin her chances of getting her child back, would she take that risk?

“I don’t feel good about this,” Sadie finally said. Eric had used his feelings that Megan was close to justify what he was doing. Surely her feelings of unease were just as real. “Something’s not right.”

“A hundred things aren’t right,” Eric clarified, coming to a stop at an intersection. “Believe me, I would prefer that he’d given all this information to the police instead of me; I would rather he wanted Megan’s return more than he wanted my money, but that isn’t what I’ve been given.” Without warning he pulled into a gas station, taking Sadie off guard.

She glanced at the gas gauge—there was still nearly half a tank. When she looked from the gauge to Eric’s face, however, she understood.

“I’m sorry you don’t agree with what I’m doing,” Eric said, sounding mostly understanding but a little bit disappointed, too. He’d wanted her to be a good sidekick and agree with him on everything. Apparently he didn’t know Sadie as well as he thought he did. He pulled up in front of the food mart and turned to look at her. “Do you have your phone?”

Sadie didn’t answer, battling inside herself on whether she should insist on going with him or not. No, she didn’t like what he was doing, but was it worse for him to do it alone? Then again, she was sincere in her feelings that something was wrong. “I don’t think this is safe, Eric,” she said. “Let me go with you. I’ll duck down in the back and stay in the car, but if something happens then you won’t be on your own.”

“No,” Eric said, his tone final. “I can’t take the risk. I’m sorry. I’ll come back and pick you up when I’m done.”

She looked at the gas station, unwilling to give in just yet. The food mart wasn’t fancy, but it had a Burger King inside. There were tables where she could sit and certainly a selection of magazines that would keep her mind occupied. But Eric would be facing a difficult situation all by himself. Her gaze slid further to the side, taking in the other cars in the lot. After focusing on one in particular, she turned back to Eric and put her hand on the door handle. “I have my phone,” she said. “If I don’t hear from you by 3:00, I’m calling Mathews.”

Eric hesitated, but finally gave a small nod, as though knowing he wouldn’t win this one. “Quarter after,” he said. “I’ve still got some distance to cover.”

“Okay,” Sadie said. “One hour—3:15.” She looked at him and held his eyes. “Be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a dip of his chin.

Sadie bit back one more lecture and stepped out of the car. She could feel Eric watching her so she didn’t look back as she pushed through the glass doors of the food mart. Once she was inside, Eric reversed out of his parking space. Sadie took a step closer to the front glass and watched until he’d pulled back into traffic. As soon as he was gone, she pushed the door open and took quick strides across the parking lot toward the far right gas pump.

“This yours?” Sadie asked as she approached a young man who was pulling the nozzle out of the gas tank of a white-and-black taxi. She actually preferred that the taxi wasn’t bright yellow so that it wouldn’t be as easy to spot.

“Yuh,” the tall, thin black man said without looking at her, a Jamaican accent coming through with just the one word. His hair was cut short, not in dreadlocks or anything, and if Sadie had to guess she’d say he was in his early thirties. Whoever called New York the melting pot had never been to Miami.

“Good,” Sadie said with a nod as she headed toward the back door. “There’s a green Ford Tempo with an Avis rental car sticker on the back window that just pulled out of this station and is heading for 51st Street.” She pointed in the direction Eric had turned. “I need you to catch up with him, but without him knowing.”

“You be in some kinda trouble, lady?” the man asked, looking at her for the first time.

“Not me,” Sadie said, giving him a confident look. “But he is. Can you catch up?”

The man looked at her for a moment. In the next instant his dark lips parted to show teeth that fairly glowed against his skin. “Certainly,” he said, hanging up the nozzle.

Sadie nodded with relief, but immediately moved to the next worry on her list. It had been nearly a full minute since Eric had disappeared into traffic. Would they be able to find him?

Sadie need not have worried about being unable to catch up. It only took two lights, and enough zigging and zagging between other cars to make Sadie grasp the door handle for balance, before Monty—the driver—pointed at a green Ford a few cars ahead of them as they slowed down for a light. “That be ’im?” Monty asked.

Sadie leaned forward and could just make out the Avis sticker. “That’s him,” she said, impressed. “Well done.”

Monty shrugged, but he also smiled in the rearview mirror. “I know Miami,” he said, obviously pleased with himself. “You wan’ me to stay ’ere or get us closa?”

“Here is good,” Sadie said, confident that if they somehow lost Eric, Monty would have no problem finding him again.

“What be on fifty-firs’ he be want’n to fine?”

“A boat shop, I guess,” Sadie said, thinking back to the business card Eric had shown her. “Motorways Powerboat.”

Monty lifted his eyebrows and looked at her quickly in the mirror again. “What he be want’n with Motoway?”

Sadie shrugged, but honed in on Monty’s interest. “I don’t know. Do you know anything about the company?”

“Only dat dey be ba’ business,” Monty said with a nod. “Spected de owner done be selling ’is boats to Cuba ’gain.”

“Again?” Sadie asked.

“Years ago FBI done talked to ’im ’bout rumors of ’im sellin’ to Castro’s men. Din’t get proven, a’course, but some say he be back to work. Soon as people start a’talkin’, though, ’e shuts down ’is shop.”

“Shuts it down?” Sadie said. “So Motorways Powerboat isn’t operating?”

“Not ’less he done open las’ week,” Monty said.

So, Eric wasn’t only meeting an anonymous caller, he was meeting an anonymous caller at an abandoned business whose owner had possible ties to a communist regime. And he didn’t think the police needed to be involved?

She looked up as the light changed and the cars started moving. Eric’s car was in the lane to the left, and although there were several cars between them, she could see the outline of his head, leaning like he did against the driver’s side door. She wondered if he was as nervous as she was.

“Dat be your fella?” Monty asked.

Sadie’s eyes jumped back to the mirror, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, no,” she said, managing a little chuckle despite the flush rising in her cheeks. “Just a friend.”

Monty smiled again, embarrassing Sadie even more. “Sho’, sho’,” he said with a knowing nod. “Whe’ you from, lady?”