Desperate Choices (15 page)

Max had a bad feeling in his gut all day. He couldn’t shake it. As a cop that same intuition had saved his ass more than once. Now it was pestering him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Taking one hand off the wheel, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Theresa’s shop. It rang a couple of times and Maggie picked up.

“Hey, Maggie, it’s Max Lamoreaux. Could I speak with Theresa please?”

“Sorry, Theresa’s not here. She called early this morning and asked me to cover the shop for her again.”

“Did she say where she could be reached?” That antsy feeling was starting to work overtime now, gnawing at him.

“No, sir. She and Remy took off before I got here.”

She’s with Remy.
He gave a sigh of relief. Max dialed Remy’s number and got his voice mail. Leaving an abrupt message instructing him to call him back right away, he snapped the phone shut.

It had been a frustrating morning, dealing with the local NOPD about his ransacked office. They’d told him the threatening note had been constructed on site, out of his own newspapers and magazines. Dozens of sets of fingerprints were found throughout the office, but only two sets on the letter. His and one other. They hadn’t come up with a match yet, but were still working. Max knew it would be a dead end.

Where the hell are Remy and Theresa?
When he’d left her this morning, crawling out of that warm comfortable bed, she had been sleeping so peacefully. She looked so breathtakingly beautiful, curled on her side, her long blond hair sprawled out around her, one perfect pink breast peeking out from beneath the bedspread. It had taken all his resolve to walk away when he’d rather have crawled back into the bed and made her his again. The need to be with her, to make her understand she was his just as he belonged to her, pushed at him. Instead, he had called Remy to watch over her, and went to work.

Every instinct he had, both as a P.I. and an ex-cop, told him Tommy was running out of time.

He glanced over at the folder lying on the passenger seat. Although there was no proof, he believed Theresa when she said that Jacob’s and Tommy’s cases were somehow connected. Right now the only thing linking the two was the fact they attended the same high school. He’d checked with the school first thing this morning, but they hadn’t had any of the same classes, even though they were both in the same grade. Nothing in the last two years showed they’d ever had a single class together.

His phone rang and he peered at the caller ID. “Hey, bro. Where the hell are you and Theresa? You were supposed to stay put.”

“Well, good morning to you, too. Theresa had an idea of a place to look for Jacob. We hit pay dirt, buddy.”

“Where? What?”

“Homefront Hardware Store. Apparently Jacob Freeman was in Thursday afternoon asking about a job. Talked to a guy named Pete. This Pete tells Jacob about a contractor who has two roofing jobs lined up, ready to start. Said he should check with this guy, maybe he’d have something for him.”

“Who’d he send him to?” Max’s stomach clenched, his hand tightening on the wheel.
Please, God, let this be it.

“Guy named Steven Black. We’re on our way over there right now.”

“No, wait—”

“We’re already pulling up in front of Black’s house. I’ll call you if we find out anything. Keep your phone on.” With that, Remy hung up.

Steven Black. Max’s mind mulled over that. Bit by bit, it started to add up. Theresa said whoever picked up Tommy was somebody he knew. Steven fit. She said he’d been picked up by a large white vehicle, probably a van. Steven drove a white pickup truck, which was close. He’d talked to Steven at the Saunders’s house, but the man could have been lying to him the whole time. Now, Jacob had gone to see Steven, and he’d gone missing, too.

Grabbing up his phone, he dialed the NOPD. Fortunately, somebody owed him favors. He was calling one in.

“Morning, Bill. It’s Lamoreaux. I need you to check the DMV for me, see how many vehicles are registered to a Steven Black. Might be under his personal name or it may be under the name of his business, Black’s Back to Basics. Specifically, check to see if he has a white van.”

“Man, come on. I don’t have time for this,” Bill whined over the phone line.

“Look, you owe me. This is an emergency. Call me on my cell as soon as you get anything.”

“Is this about your missing godson?”

“It might be. Put a rush on it, okay?” Giving Bill his cell number, Max hung up, again running the facts through his mind. It all added up, made sense. The question was why? Steven Black was a well-respected contractor in the New Orleans area. Lots of people used his services. As far as Max knew, he was clean, didn’t have a record. There had to be a reason.

Once he figured that out, he’d be one step closer to finding Tommy and hopefully Jacob Freeman, too.

***

Remy parked his car beside the red brick wall in front of Steven Black’s house. Two large stone columns, topped by lanterns on either side, flanked the driveway. A well-maintained yard, spectacular bushes and trees highlighted the view.

Theresa sat silently, her eyes closed. She was tense, her body so stiff she practically vibrated. Remy had been around her long enough, he was familiar with scenes similar to this. She knew he’d wait until she was ready to speak.

Moments later, she exhaled a whisper of breath and opened her eyes. Her hands rubbed up and down her arms, smoothing the goose bumps covering the chilled flesh of her forearms. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she turned to face Remy.

“He was here. He left his bike right there, leaning against that column when he went to talk with Mr. Black. I saw him walk up to the front door and knock. He waited for a few minutes, then stepped off the front porch and went to that window.” She pointed at the large window to the right of the front door.

“I saw him look in and then he walked back toward his bicycle. Something, a noise maybe, stopped him and he walked around the side of the house instead.” She paused, squinting as if trying to see something in the distance before continuing.

“There were two vehicles parked in the driveway. One was a white pickup truck with a company logo on the side. The other one was…a white van.”

“A white van? Like the one you saw pick up Tommy from the side of the road?”

Theresa nodded, raising trembling fingers to her lips.

“I’m calling Max back.” Remy reached for the phone clipped to his belt.

“No, wait. We need to do what we came here to do. Let’s go talk to Mr. Black about Jacob.”

Opening the car door, Theresa clambered out before Remy could stop her. “Dammit,” he muttered, following silently.

They walked across the manicured lawn to the front porch, and he rapped on the door. No answer. Glancing back toward the empty drive, Remy remarked, “He’s probably not home.” He pointed. “No cars, trucks, vans or anything else in the driveway. We’re going to have to come back later.”

Theresa’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. She wanted this whole thing over. The strain of this case was showing on everyone she loved.

She felt like time was running out. Events were soon going to come to a head. There was danger coming—she sensed it. Somebody was going to be hurt, possibly killed. Who it would be was still dark to her, but it was going to happen soon. God help them all stay safe, she prayed.

“I’ve got an idea.”

They were seated in Remy’s Impala, parked in front of Steven Black’s house. He reached for his cell phone and dialed Information.

“I’d like the number for a business listing. Black’s Back to Basics.”

After a few seconds, the recording came back. “That number is 555-6759.”

Remy dialed. Expecting voice mail to pick up, he straightened when the phone was answered.

“Black’s Back to Basics. This is Steven Black.”

“Mr. Black, my name’s Remington. I’d like to get an estimate for some interior work I need done. I’ve heard good things about your work. Can we meet? I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”

Remy glanced over at Theresa, and saw her nod of approval.

“Mr. Remington, I’ve got kind of a full schedule right now with jobs already lined up. Exactly how soon would you need this work done?”

“The wife’s been after me to remodel the kitchen for months. She’s going out of town tomorrow, and I want to get this done while she’s gone. I’d need you to start immediately. I’m willing to pay extra for the inconvenience.” Remy’s voice spun the lie so smoothly, there wasn’t a hitch in his tone to reveal his deception. He listened to the hesitation at the other end, and knew Black was considering his offer.

“Okay, Mr. Remington, why don’t we meet someplace and we can talk about the work you want done. Where would be convenient for you?”

“Actually right now I’m over at Homefront Hardware. That’s where I got your name, from one of their employees.”
Always best to stick with the truth when you can.
“He said that you live close by. Maybe we could meet at your home?”

Again there was silence on the other end. “Sure, that’d be okay. I can be there in about fifteen minutes. Do you need the address?”

“Yes, that would be great.”

After getting the address from Steven, Remy hung up the phone. He leaned his head back against the headrest of the seat and closed his eyes.

“He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.” He craned his head around, opening his eyes. “I’m going to suggest something, and you’re not going to like it, but I’m saying it anyway. Before he gets here, I want you to climb in the back and stay out of sight.”

Theresa opened her mouth to protest.

“I know you don’t like it, but that’s tough. He’s seen you before with Max. He could recognize you and that would blow the whole thing.”

“He won’t recognize me, Remy. He barely got a glance at me before.”

“We can’t take that chance. If he’s involved in this, he may be the one who left the note. Let me handle this. We’re just here to ask questions about Jacob.”

***

Theresa paused, considering her words. “Remy, it’s more than just Jacob. Somehow, someway, he’s connected with Tommy, too. Be very careful, but see if you can ask him about both boys.”

“Okay, I’ll ask. Just please, stay out of sight until I’ve talked to him. I’ve done this before you know.” He smiled at her and gave her an exaggerated wink. “I’m a professional.”

Shaking her head, she opened the car door and climbed onto the back seat, hunkering down as far as possible. Before too much time passed, she heard a vehicle pull into the drive and the engine shut off.

She heard Remy’s door open and close, and the murmur of voices faded as the two men walked away from the car. She held her breath, saying a quick prayer Remy would find out something about the boys.

Hopeful they would find Tommy soon, deep down she knew it was already too late for Jacob. The most they could do would be to find his body so his parents could gain some type of closure. It wouldn’t be enough, but it was all they could offer.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, she raised her head up just enough to peer out the car window. Remy and Mr. Black were nowhere in sight.

Sitting a little farther up, she could see the very end of a white vehicle protruding through the brick-and-concrete posts lining the drive. What could it hurt if she snuck over and touched it? Maybe she could get something off it, it was worth a shot.

She opened the car door as quietly as possible, making her way outside and pushing it almost all the way closed, leaving it cracked the tiniest bit to avoid any noise.

Her head swung back and forth as she walked, glancing around to see if anybody had spotted her. So far she was in the clear. She jogged toward the end of the drive. Parked there was an older white panel van. The only windows were on the driver’s and passenger’s front doors. The back was completely enclosed.

This van looked eerily familiar. Tentatively she reached out, fingertips barely touching the cool metal of the rear cargo door.

Scenes screamed through her brain. Her knees buckled. Pictures of Tommy and Steven loading Tommy’s Suzuki into the back, the flat tire evident as they rolled it inside. Tommy and Steven on the drive toward New Orleans, talking about school and work, his parents, casual chitchat between acquaintances.

She jerked her hand away from the metal as though it were fiery hot.
He was the one! Steven Black had taken Tommy!

“Oh, God,” she whispered, “Remy’s inside that house with a madman, and he doesn’t know it!” She didn’t have a phone, no way of contacting him or Max. What was she going to do?

***

Max grabbed his cell phone on the first ring, not bothering to check the caller ID. His heart raced when he heard his friend’s voice from the police station.

“You’ve got good instincts, as always, Lamoreaux,” Bill drawled. “Steven Black owns two vehicles, one Ford F250 pickup truck and one Chevy Astro van. Both vehicles are registered under his name to his business. That what you needed?”

“Thanks, bud, I owe you one.” He hung up. Every one of his instincts screamed this was it. Steven Black knew something.
Damn, why hasn’t Remy called back yet?

He knew Remy was a good cop and could handle himself, but Theresa—she was a wildcard. Besides, how hard could it be to ask a few questions about a missing kid? Either he’d seen Jacob or he hadn’t. One way or another, they’d have answers soon.

Making a sharp U-turn, Max slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and sped toward Steven Black’s house. “The hell with waiting, I’m going over there.”

***

Remy sat in Steven’s living room, his sharp cop’s eyes taking in every detail, cataloging the scene for future reference. It was a longstanding habit. His instincts pulsated, demanding he pay close attention to every detail.

Steven Black walked back into the room carrying two glasses of iced tea, handing one to Remy before setting the other down on the coffee table, and took a seat.

“What’s this job about, Mr. Remington? You mentioned something about a kitchen remodel?”

Remy set down his glass before reaching into his shirt pocket for Jacob’s picture. “Actually, Mr. Black, that was a bit of subterfuge on my part. I’m actually here looking into the case of a missing teenager.”

Black’s body stiffened immediately at his words. Remy watched Steven closely. His years on the force had made him skilled at reading body language, and any fool could see that this guy had something to hide. Remy was nobody’s fool.

“You lied? Why? I don’t know anything about a missing boy.”

Remy’s pulse rate sped up at that. He hadn’t specified the missing teenager was a
boy. Just take it slow, maybe we’re getting somewhere here.

“Mr. Black, would you mind looking at a picture for me? Tell me if you’ve seen this person before.”

“Sure, no problem,” he answered.

Remy handed Jacob’s picture to him, still watching, gauging his reactions. Steven’s fingers visibly trembled as he stared at the photo of Jacob. His shock was evident. Remy didn’t doubt he recognized Jacob.

“I don’t think so. Maybe, I don’t know. These teenagers nowadays, they all look the same to me.” Steven tried to cover, blustering over his response. His eyes darted around the living room, never making eye contact.

“Mr. Black, I was told by an employee at Homefront Hardware that he suggested this young man come see you about a job.” Steven Black winced slightly, but still kept his mouth shut.
Probably a good thing. This guy definitely isn’t a good liar.

“Nope, nobody has talked to me about a job. Actually, I wish he had. I’ve got two roofing contracts coming up and need some part-time help.”

“Mr. Black. We know he was here. We have a witness that saw Jacob stop at your house on Thursday afternoon and park his bicycle outside your drive.” Remy calmly stated this falsehood. The only witness he had was Theresa, who had seen it in a vision. It was a stab in the dark, but he was going to try it anyway.

“Somebody saw him here? No, no. That can’t be right. He wasn’t here I tell you. I never saw him.” Steven’s voice rose, his words tumbling over themselves. He stood, hands on his hips, staring at Remy.

“Who are you, anyway, to be asking me all the questions, mister?”

Remy smiled, reaching into his pants pocket, and pulled out his identification. “Detective Remington Lamoreaux. I’m with the New Orleans Police Department.”

Remy could swear that Steven Black’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head, all color leaching from his face. He was as white as a sheet, trembling.

“He wasn’t here. That’s all I got to say. You go, right now.”

“Steven, you’re lying to me. We know he was here. I want to know where he was going after he left.”

“And I’m telling you, I don’t care what your witnesses say, I didn’t see that kid.” Stalking to the door, Steven swung it open wide. His face, pale earlier, now flushed red. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stood there, visibly trembling. Remy wanted to push him for answers, but was afraid the guy would have a heart attack right there in the foyer and they’d never find either kid.

“Mr. Black, are you feeling okay? You’re looking ill. Do you need me to contact somebody for you or call 9-1-1?”

“No! Really, I’m fine. I’m just tired, been working too many jobs recently. I guess I need to take it easier, slow down a bit.” Steven reached up with one hand and wiped at the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Remy glanced through the open doorway and groaned silently. Theresa was clearly visible standing next to the van parked in the drive. If Black glanced that way, he might recognize her.

“Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch if there are further questions.” Remy stood, prepared to leave when an open doorway to the right caught his gaze. Shiny and gleaming, the front rim of a bicycle could be seen. Metallic red paint glinted when the light hit the front bumper, and Remy’s brain shifted into overdrive. He knew Jacob had ridden his bike here, but nobody had mentioned the color. Had it been red?

Maybe his imagination was running amok. Maybe it was Steven’s bicycle. If it was, though, why was it inside the house?

He continued toward the door, hoping that Steven hadn’t noticed his diverted attention. He’d almost made it, when the door swung closed with a slam. Steven stood barring his way.

“You couldn’t just mind your own business, could you? You had to come snooping around here, asking stupid questions. As if that’s not bad enough, no, you had to be nosy, looking around and seeing things you don’t need to see.”

Steven took three steps away from the door and reached into the drawer of a wooden desk. His hand emerged holding a pistol. Looking at it, Remy recognized it right away as a .38 caliber. Definitely big enough to do a lot of damage, especially at this close range.

“You don’t want to do this. I’m a cop. I showed you my identification. Threatening a cop is a serious thing.”

Remy kept his voice calm, matter-of-fact, when just the opposite was true. Even off-duty he had a weapon with him, out of sight in an ankle holster. He cursed silently, wishing he could get to it, but he knew Black had the drop on him and would shoot him before he made it halfway to his weapon. He blamed himself for not telling Max to meet him here.

“That kid wasn’t supposed to come here. Nobody
ever
comes here. That’s why this place is so perfect for me. I can be alone. But that kid, he was going to ruin everything.”

“What was he going to ruin?”

“He saw too much. He came around the side of the house and saw us arguing.” Steven raised the hand not holding the gun up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. He stared at Remy, glassy-eyed with pain.

Something was up. But what? “Who were you arguing with, Steven?”

“Who…oh, I was arguing with Tommy. We’re always arguing lately.” He said it nonchalantly, emotionless, yet Remy’s pulse rate trip-hammered, his heartbeat slamming against his ribcage.
Steven had Tommy.

“Are we talking about Tommy Saunders?”

Steven looked at him in surprise. “Of course we’re talking about Tommy Saunders. Things were almost finished, and that Jacob person saw us and almost ruined everything.” Steven waved the gun around dramatically, gesturing with his hands, as if he had forgotten he was holding it. “He kept screaming he was going to call the police. I had to stop him, you see that don’t you? I wasn’t ready yet. It was just too soon.”

Remy couldn’t believe what he heard. Although rambling, Steven had basically confessed to taking Tommy and, worse, having done something to the Freeman kid. He needed to keep him talking.

Outside the front window he caught a glimpse of long blond hair surrounding a pale face and wide blue eyes peering through the sliver of an opening in the drapes. Theresa. Dammit, she’d ruin everything if she came any closer. He needed to keep Steven distracted and talking.

“Too soon for what, Steven? What happened to Jacob and Tommy?” His tone soothing, Remy asked the question in a way to encourage Steven’s rambling discourse.

“My plans. I had everything worked out, you see. Tommy was perfect. I knew he would be. That other boy, he was going to ruin everything. I had to shut him up. I had to make him stop.” Once again Steven rubbed at his temple with his empty hand. His face was bright red, his breathing erratic.

“What plans, Steven? What part does Tommy play in all this?”

Steven stared at Remy, his eyes widening. Remy knew he finally comprehended what was happening, and that he’d said too much.