2 Crushed (17 page)

She started to argue but the line
went dead.

“He’s gone,” she said, and flipped
the phone closed.

Handel was already out the door,
radio in hand. She could hear him relaying the information to the police and
their crackling response. Everyone was converging on the Parker shed.

She ran out after him, Adam and
Billie following close on her heels. Handel’s car was too small for all of
them, so they piled into Margaret’s. Handel drove, whipping around in the
gravel like a teenager on a joyride. She hoped and prayed that it would be
exactly that.

The house, yard, and shed were
awash with the glare of headlights when they arrived. Undercover cops swarmed
over the area, a team of synchronized killers, surrounding the shed, fully
armed. Margaret saw one man go in and then another. Others stood outside the
door, guns drawn.

The first officer finally emerged
through the door of the shed, Davy’s small body in his arms. He smiled broadly,
blinking against the lights in his eyes, and strode forward. Margaret ran to
meet him, tears coursing down her cheeks. She lifted Davy’s arm, hanging
limply, and squeezed his fingers, pressing them to her lips. He giggled, and
opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, but his silly smile made her laugh along.

Handel stepped forward and took him
from the officer. “We should get him in the house.”

“I’m sure someone’s already called
for an ambulance. It’s best if he gets checked out by a doctor. You don’t know
what he’s been given.”

Margaret ran a finger along her
son’s cheek and kissed his forehead. “He’s been given homemade Wine,” she said,
with a shake of her head. “Not fatal, but he’s definitely tipsy.”

Handel carried him in and laid him
on the couch. Margaret covered him with the quilt and sat on the floor beside
him, her arm protectively over his chest. He turned his head to look at her, their
eyes on the same level, and then they slowly drooped closed and he began to
snore.

Margaret looked up to see Handel
still hovering nearby. Billie and Adam stood in the kitchen speaking with two
policemen. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.

*****

Handel drove Billie and Adam back
to the winery once everything settled down. Davy had been checked out by the
EMT, and the police had taped off the shed as a crime scene and finally
dispersed. The highway was a dark stretch of inky black in the light of the
Toyota’s headlights. No other cars in sight. He turned onto the long gravel
drive and glanced at Billie in the seat beside him.

“Margaret wouldn’t leave him alone
in his room tonight,” he said, his voice soft. “She was curled up on the bed
beside him.”

“I don’t blame her.” Billie reached
out and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in a gentle
caress. “It’ll take some time to get past this.”

He nodded.

Adam watched from the backseat,
saying nothing. He didn’t want to break the mood of joyful relief. Everything
had turned out well in the end, thank God, other than putting Sean Parker back
behind bars where he belonged, but hopefully the police would remedy that soon.

Handel parked under the oaks and
they all got out and walked down to the woodworking shed to retrieve the money
and pictures. The door was open, hinges creaking as it moved ever so slightly
in the breeze. “What the…” Handel muttered and flipped the light switch. The
room came to life with bright overhead florescent bulbs. The smell of freshly
cut pine pervaded the room along with a hint of cigarette smoke.

A table saw and a circular saw
built into their own cutting tables, took up much of the open floor space. One
long wall held wood working tools of every description. Adam spotted handsaws,
levels, planes, awls, a shaver, and things he didn’t recognize. The floor was
covered in a fine powder of sawdust and curling wood shavings.

On the worktable sat a small pine
birdhouse.

Handel shook his head. “I don’t believe
it,” he said, his eyes wide with wonder. “The bastard tricked us. Somehow he
knew the exact moment I left the package. And he knew everyone would desert the
stakeout as soon as he called and told Margaret where Davy was. He made us
believe he’d already left town, when he was right outside our door waiting.” He
met Billie’s eyes across the room, his own guilt ridden. “I’m sorry. He took
the pictures.”

Adam looked up at the ceiling and
around the door and windowsill. He felt along the edges of the tables with his
fingers, feeling for something that didn’t belong.

“What are you looking for?” Billie
asked, coming up behind him where he crouched to look under the bottom of the
cutting table. “He took the pictures and the money. It’s over.”

He found the object, yanked it off
the wood where it had been taped in place and lifted it up for inspection. “How
did he know when we left and how long we’d be gone? Because he was watching.”

Handel reached out to take it from
him. The camera was about the size of his thumb. He turned it over in his hand.
“How did you know?”

He shrugged. “A friend at college
was a wannabe private investigator. He was always buying these tiny gadgets and
spying on people. That looks like one he had—motion detection and a 72
degree angle view. Your dad just needed a laptop computer nearby and he could
watch the show without anyone being the wiser.” He crossed his arms. “He was
one step ahead of us the whole time. I’m sure he planted a camera in the shed
where Davy was too. Maybe even in your house. His little game of breaking and
entering probably involved more than just taking the gun and leaving Pablo.”

Handel handed the tiny camera back
to Adam and approached the workbench. He lifted the newly built birdhouse,
looked inside and underneath, felt the smooth wood with his fingertips. “He
actually built this while half a mile away a dozen cops stormed our shed with
enough commotion and light to wake the Napa Valley. Just to prove he’s better
than me—without cutting corners or skipping steps—even under
pressure.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

 
Adam yawned and stretched, padding out of
his room in bare feet. He cinched the string on his sweats and looked around
for his running shoes. He couldn’t remember where he’d left them. He carried
his socks to the kitchen. Maybe they were by the back door.

Billie was already up nibbling on
toast and drinking coffee. He looked greedily at her second slice, but she
moved the plate to the other side of the newspaper she was reading, out of his
reach. “We made front page news,” she announced. She didn’t sound excited about
it.

He found his shoes and sat down at
the table to pull on his socks. “What’d you expect? Kidnapping and murder are
still pretty newsworthy even in California. Jane Goodall and the five o’clock
news will be up and running with her exclusive interview before you know it.
She’s probably pulling Margaret out of bed as we speak.” “I hope not. Ernesto
said they were going over to harvest her vineyard this morning. Knowing her,
she’s out there helping even though I told her to take time off. She could use
a few hours rest and relaxation after the past few days, spend a little quiet
time with Davy, and then if she has to, come in later this afternoon to
supervise the winemaking.”

He grinned, double knotting his
shoes. “Dream on. She’s sort of one-track minded like yourself.” He got up and
opened the back door. “Got to run. See you in thirty.”

He walked briskly along the back of
the house, following the paver stones that wound past the rose bushes and
around the side to the gravel drive. He hadn’t run enough since he’d been here
and his body felt out of tune. He started at a slow jog, heading toward the
highway, then broke into a run. The cool morning air felt good against his bare
chest. A stray cat pounced on something in the tall grass of the ditch he
passed. Further down the road, he heard tapping and looked up to see a
woodpecker looking for bugs in the bark of an old olive tree, long black beak
above a little tufted red head hammering away like a rock and roll drummer.

He turned after about two miles and
started back. He would like to go further but Billie would need him back at the
winery soon. There was much left to be done. He heard a car approaching from
behind and moved onto the shoulder, barely staying out of the ditch. This was a
dangerous road most days, pedestrians and bicyclers were warned to be alert.
Wineries and driving didn’t mix well. But since the wineries were closed for
harvest he hoped he was safe enough.

The car sped past, a little silver
Ford Taurus. It slowed, brake lights coming on, and then pulled over to the
side of the road. He watched the car as he approached, wondering if they were
lost. When he neared, the window rolled down and a woman looked out at him,
perfectly coifed brown hair framing his mother’s lovely frown.

“What are you doing out here half
dressed, Adam?” She glanced up and down the road. “Get in this car before
someone sees you.”

He sighed and hurried across the
road. No matter how old he got, there was no arguing with Mom. He climbed into
the car, still panting.

“Now don’t get any sweat on these
cloth seats. This is a rental, you know.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, as sweat
dripped down his face and chest and soaked into the seat at his back.

“You are certainly ripe,” she
commented, turning up her nose and putting the car into gear. She left the
window open even though she hated her hair getting windblown and pulled back
out on the road to drive the remaining distance. With her blinker on for the
turn into Fredrickson’s she asked, “You did tell Billie I was coming, right?”

He prayed that Billie, still
basking in the joy of finding Davy safe and sound, would forgive him for
neglecting to pass on this small tidbit of news—Mother had come for a
visit.

“With everything that’s been going
on, I really haven’t had a chance,” he said, wishing he’d worn a shirt so he
could wipe away the sweat dripping in his eyes.

She shook her head. “I heard all
about it at the airport this morning. Saw that blonde woman on channel five
report that Sean Parker released his grandson and disappeared into thin air.”
She glanced his way, her lips pursed with concern. “How’s Billie doing? Knowing
he’s out running loose has got to be very frustrating for her. Not to mention,
frightening.”

“She’s managing,” he said.

She parked the car in front of the
house and shut off the ignition. Adam glanced up at the front windows,
wondering if Billie had spotted them yet. He opened the door and got out,
looked down at the damp seat he left behind and hoped his mother wouldn’t
notice. He quickly went around the car and opened her door, standing back as
she gathered her purse.

She gestured toward the trunk. “Get
my things, will you honey? I’ll surprise Billie. She is still home, isn’t she?”
She glanced at her little diamond studded watch his father had given her
decades ago. “I took the earliest flight available so I could be here for her.”

He popped the trunk and struggled
to extract the giant suitcase she’d managed to cram into the small space. It
weighed more than she did. He wondered how she ever got it to the airport and
then into the trunk without suffering a hernia. “It is harvest, Mom. So, she
may have gone to the winery already.”

She hurried up the front walk,
knocked and rang the bell, patted at her hair, and tried to peek through the
front window. He pulled the suitcase down the sidewalk, glad it had wheels, but
thinking it should include a motor as well. “Just open it, Mom. It’s not
locked.”

Her expression was aghast. “Not
locked? After everything that’s happened—she doesn’t lock her doors?”

He sighed and followed her in,
yanking the suitcase up over the steps and through the doorway. A loud crash
reverberated from the kitchen, followed by loud muttering. Apparently Billie
had spotted their guest. He closed the door behind him and locked it.

*****

Margaret hovered over Davy while he
ate enough food to rival his uncle Handel’s appetite. She brushed her fingers
lightly over his head every time she passed by his chair, needing that small
physical contact to reinforce the fact that he was home and safe.

“I want to go see Pablo. Is he all
right? Grandpa Sean didn’t hurt him, did he?” he asked, after finishing his
second glass of orange juice. It was the first he’d mentioned his friend, and
was a good sign that he was not devastated by the past few days, blocking out
bad memories, but that the drug and alcohol had actually caused his time in
confinement to seem short and not nearly as scary as it could have. He still
didn’t know what happened to his father and Margaret thought it might be too
soon to bring it up.

“I don’t know if Pablo has been
back to the winery. We’ll have to call his parents and see if we can stop at
their place for a visit soon. But today Ernesto and the crew is out harvesting
the Parker vines and I think we should be involved in that, don’t you?”

Davy nodded, a grin spreading
across his face. “Your new wine blend will be the best ever!” he said with all
the confidence of a nine-year-old connoisseur.

“Now you’re talking. Brush your
teeth, Mr. Parker, so we can get going.”

He made a face. “Do I got to? I’m
just going to dirty’em up when I eat grapes out there anyway.”

“You better keep your mitts off my
grapes, buddy. Those grapes are meant for wine making, not snacking.” She
smacked the seat of his pants. “Go on.”

The phone rang. She set Davy’s
dirty dishes in the sink and picked up.

“Miss Parker?”

“I’ll be out to help in a minute,
Ernesto.”

“Okay, but I was just wondering if
you’d heard from Mario since he took Pablo home the other day. I tried to call
the number but he doesn’t answer.”

Margaret couldn’t remember seeing
the man since then either. Funny that no one mentioned it before now. If anyone
should be holding down the fort it would be the two vineyard managers. “Why
don’t you call Billie. She might have another contact number in the employee
files.”

Davy trudged back into the room,
wearing the hat his father gave him with the Golden Gate Racetrack insignia.
She cringed at the thought that only recently she’d believed him dead, buried
in that bin of rotten fruit, his cap sticking up through the muck. She turned
away, so he wouldn’t see the horror she felt at the thought. “Don’t you think
you should wear an old cap, so you don’t get that one dirty?” she suggested.

He pulled it off and looked at it,
his bottom lip caught between his front teeth. “I guess. I’ll get my Star Wars
hat. Be right back!” He ran up the stairs to his room. When he returned, he was
wearing a black cap, glow-in-the-dark sabers crossed on the front.

Margaret hugged him and he suffered
through it once again, pretending he was too big to hug. “Aw, Mom.”

*****

 
Billie and Adam escaped to the winery
while their mother freshened up from her travel. After that long flight,
practically in the middle of the night, she said she needed to rest. Relieved
at the respite, they hurried back to work.

Sally was already at her desk, her
face beaming when Adam came in. “I knew everything would turn out. I’m so happy
for Margaret. Davy is home safe and sound and now we can all get back to
normal,” she said.

“If you don’t mind the fact that
Sean Parker is still running loose,” Adam said, bending over the front of her
desk. He ran his fingers along the edges and then bent down to look around the
bottom.

“What are you doing? Looking for
used gum?”

He raised his head and met her
curious stare. “I’m looking for bugs.”

“Ick! We don’t allow bugs in the
winery, and certainly not on my desk.”

“A different kind of bug. You
know—the kind that listens to other people’s conversations? Sort of like
you, only smaller and technologically advanced.”

“Holy Moly! Have you lost your
mind? Why would someone bug the winery?” she got up and moved around her desk
to watch him feeling along the legs of the chairs.

He flipped one chair and then the
other, checking under the seats, then righted them again. He put his finger to
his lips. “You never know who’s listening.”

Billie appeared in the doorway,
frowning. “What are you doing on the floor?”

He looked up and grinned. “Cleaning
house?”

She’d obviously overheard. “There
are no bugs in the winery. The lock pad on the front door is changed every
month and only Sally, Ernesto, Mario, and I have the combination. I haven’t
even had time to give it to Margaret. Handel said they did find a camera in the
Parker shed though and one taped under the table in Margaret’s cellar, so Sean
would know when we found Pablo. The police didn’t find any bugs.”

He shrugged and stood up. “Can’t be
too careful.”

Sally rolled her eyes and released
an exaggerated sigh. She went back to the computer on her desk and started
typing.

“Sally, do we have more than one
phone number for Mario? Ernesto hasn’t been able to reach him with the one he
has.”

“I’ll look.”

Adam stood over her shoulder and
watched as she opened the employee files, clicking on Mario Nava. There was one
cell phone number and his emergency contact person. She looked up. “Just his
emergency contact number. Do you want that? It’s his sister. Carlita Ortiz.”

Billie bit her lip. “That must be
Pablo’s mother. Send me an email with the number, would you? I’ll call them in
a bit. I need to talk to Handel first.”

Adam followed her down the hall to
her office. He could tell she was worried about something. “What’s up? You’re
not still mad about Mom showing up? It’s not my fault,” he said, his defenses
up.

“No. Nobody can control Mother’s
flights of fancy.” She sat back behind the desk and picked up the phone.
“Something has been nagging at the back of my mind. Handel told me that before
they released Sean Parker on probation, he had two people vouch for him. I find
it hard to believe that random citizens would vouch for a sex offender unless
there was some ulterior motive. I want to know what their names are.”

“You think it’s someone you know?”
He was truly surprised. He leaned over her desk, his palms flat on the surface.

She dialed the number and waited.
“Handel? Did you ever find out the names of the people who went before Sean’s
probation hearing? Yes. Could you? Thanks.” She held a hand over the
mouthpiece. “He has a friend who works over there. He’s calling them on the
other line.”

Adam slumped on his tailbone in the
chair behind him and waited, hands clasped behind his head. His sister looked
grim, tapping her pen against the desktop in an agitated manner. He wondered what
Sean Parker’s probation hearing had to do with their missing vineyard manager.
The night he’d followed Salvatore to the winery, she’d been adamant that none
of her employees could possibly be involved in Davy’s kidnapping. He was sure
she would have vouched for each and every one of them at the time—but
now?

She tipped the phone back against
her ear. “Yes. Juan and Carlita Ortiz. Did anyone happen to check them out? See
if they were legal citizens?” She scribbled something on a scrap of paper. “I
know. California’s policy is don’t ask, don’t tell. Well I’m asking for a
reason. Carlita is Mario’s sister and he hasn’t been seen or heard from since
he took Pablo home. Don’t you find that coincidence a bit disturbing, seeing as
your father got away?” She paused and listened, then added, “Maybe he had
help.”

When she hung up, Adam leaned
forward, his chin in his hands. “What motive could Mario possibly have to help
Parker? His file said you hired him a year ago. Long before Parker was released
by the parole board.”