Doubleback: A Novel (13 page)

“A sedan?”

“Dunno. It was practically dark when he drove up.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Any license plates you could see?”

“Sorry.”

It wasn’t much, but it fit O’Malley’s description of the car Molly came back in when she was released.

“You didn’t talk to him?”

LaSalla hesitated. “I didn’t say that.”

Georgia felt a spit of irritation. “I thought you said I was the first one you talked to.”

“I said you was the first one I opened the door for.”

“What did you talk about, with the other guy?”

“He came over. Same as you. Asked where she was.”

“You talked to him through the door.”

When Lasalla nodded, she asked, “Did you card him, too?”

“Sure I did.”

“So what was the name on his license?”

“Hell if I know.”

Georgia blinked.

“I can’t see a damn thing without my reading glasses. Just wanted to let him know I know what I’m doing.”

“Same as me,” Georgia said dully.

“Right.”

“So what did you say?”

“Same thing I told you. That she left two days ago.”

“Over the weekend.”

“Right.”

“Does Sandy have a boyfriend? Or any family members she might have gone to?”

“Her father lives in Cicero. About my age, he is. But he’s in a nursing home.”

“His name would be Sechrest?”

“No. That was her married name.”

“She was married?”

“For fifteen years. She’s divorced now.”

“Do you know her maiden name?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head.

“Did you tell the man who came looking for her everything you just told me?”

“Pretty much.”

Georgia blew out a tired breath. This was a disaster. She wound up the conversation and was on her way back to the car when LaSalla called after her. “Hold on, there, miss. There is something I didn’t tell the other guy.”

chapter
15

T
he smell of pine mingled with the stink of skunk as Georgia drove up County Road G near Necedah in central Wisconsin. She rolled up her window. It was after eleven, and the journey had taken four hours. She would have been there earlier but for the construction on every possible roadway leading out of Chicago. Barrels, cones, and concrete barriers had overrun the expressways, like some alien creatures invading Earth.

She’d prodded Guy LaSalla until he admitted that the Sechrest family had a summer cabin on Castle Rock Lake. The chances were good Sechrest was either there or close by. Georgia raced home, threw a few things into her Toyota, and set off. She hoped to arrive before midnight. Not a good time to drop in unannounced, but, given the fact that someone else was pursuing Sechrest, Georgia had no choice. She hoped she wasn’t too late.

She rolled down the window. The skunk smell had dissipated, and a late night breeze rustled the leaves. She drove through a thickly wooded area with hardly any road signs. Luckily, she’d bought a portable GPS a few days ago. Although it was pricey, buying it had been a smart decision. No more worrying about how far the next turn was or overshooting her mark. It was especially helpful at night, when a brightly illuminated screen pointed the way.

According to Cody Wegman, Sechrest was investigating the service charges that had been levied. What kind of service charges? How many accounts were charged? What was Sechrest supposed to be doing about them? Georgia knew next to nothing about banking. She parked her money in a checking account. Sometimes she made a few dollars in interest, although they were usually wiped out by ATM charges. She also had a few thousand dollars in a CD. Mad money, her mother used to call it. But that was the extent of her financial planning.

The GPS indicated a right turn ahead. She glanced at the screen. She was ten miles from Castle Rock Lake. A quick Google search before she left told her Castle Rock was the fourth largest lake in Wisconsin. About forty miles northwest of the Wisconsin Dells, it was shaped like the letter “V.” In between the V was Buck-horn State Park. To the north was Lake Petenwell, the second largest lake in the state, but aside from a few towns ringing the lake, civilization was sparse.

As she headed east, the trees thickened, and a canopy of leaves closed over her. The moon, which had been over her shoulder for most of the drive, disappeared. The only light was the throw from her headlamps. Georgia preferred flat terrain and wide open spaces. Limited sightlines and inky darkness made her uneasy. She tried to imagine pushing the trees apart like Moses parting the Red Sea.

There weren’t many cars on the road, which at first surprised her. It was the middle of summer; shouldn’t she be passing families on vacation, fishermen, other lake-lovers? Then again, it was late. Maybe everyone around here went to bed early and rose at the crack of dawn to fish. She slowed to make a curve in the road. Over the chirp of crickets, she heard a lower-pitched bleat. Frogs. She must be near the lake.

The sudden ring of her cell phone pierced the silence. Georgia pulled to the side of the road. She checked the incoming number. She didn’t recognize it.

“Davis.” She kept her voice low, as if loud noise would disturb the nocturnal landscape.

“Georgia, it’s Terry Messenger.”

She’d tried to reach him before she left Evanston but had to leave a message.

“Thanks for calling me back.”

“What’s up?”

A mosquito or two or ten hummed near her ears. She swatted at them and rolled up the window. “I thought you should know. Someone is still prowling around the edges of this—situation.” She explained about Sandy Sechrest, her sudden disappearance, and the man who’d shown up at her house.

“Oh, Christ.” His voice was raw. “I can’t—I mean, Molly— should I hire some protection?”

“I don’t think they’re after Molly this time. I think it has to do with something at the bank.”

“Which involved Chris?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Then he said, “What the hell was she doing?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “Look, I called because the case is going into a new direction, and I need to ask if you want to pursue it. Officially, the cops are still saying Chris’s death was an accident, and I’m not sure they’ll change their opinion, despite their investigation. So, here’s the thing—you have a choice. I think it’s safe to say they’ve gotten what they want from Molly. And Chris. I doubt they’ll be coming back. I can understand if you want to get out.”

“If I did, would you drop it?”

She hesitated again. Two people were dead, a little girl was traumatized. The kidnappers, whoever they were, were now rich. And free. And might do it all over again to someone else’s daughter. “No comment.”

“Where are you now?”

“In central Wisconsin. Following a lead.”

Terry’s voice was harsh. “My daughter may be safe, but some asshole took her mother away. Molly will never know what it’s like to have a mother help her plan her wedding, babysit her grandchildren. I want to find the bastards who did it. They need to pay.”

Georgia realized that’s what she’d hoped he’d say. “Okay. You got it.”

But—Georgia?”

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

Georgia looked across the car. Her Sig Sauer lay on the passenger seat. She’d cleaned and oiled and loaded it before she left.

“You can count on it.”

•   •   •

When she reached Castle Rock Lake, she drove around the western prong of the “V.” Guy Lasalla had told her Sandy Sechrest drove a red Honda Accord and that her family’s cabin was on the southwest shore of the lake. Most of the cabins ringing the water were set back from a narrow road. Georgia slowed as she passed several driveways.

It was almost midnight when she found the Honda. A silvery shaft of moonlight flickered through the trees, turning the red purple, but the Accord had a distinctive shape that was easy to recognize. She drove past a dirt driveway that was studded with stones and pulled to the side of the road. Then she reversed and turned the Toyota around so she was facing the direction from which she’d come.

She slipped her Sig into her holster, grabbed a small but powerful flashlight, and got out of the car.

The cabin was a small log structure with two tiny windows on either side of the door. Behind it was a dark expanse of yard that Georgia assumed led to the lake. She stood next to the Accord, getting the feel of her surroundings and letting her night vision adjust. Despite the late hour, the air was warm. Tomorrow would be a scorcher. The sound of frogs had ceased, but the whine of insects and other creatures hummed. An image of Pete, her neighbor, flashed through her mind. He loved the woods and the lake and the wilderness. But Georgia was a city rat. This felt unfamiliar.

She made her way toward the cabin, trying to decide how to approach Sechrest. Most people would be scared shitless if a stranger showed up at their home in the middle of the night. Georgia would be. But someone else was looking for Sechrest, and Georgia had no way of knowing when he would find her. Or if they already had. She couldn’t wait.

A high-pitched shriek made her freeze in her tracks. She grabbed the Sig from her holster. She couldn’t see anyone or anything. Nothing seemed to be moving. A series of short screeches followed. An owl. She let out her breath and reholstered the Sig. Then she shivered. She couldn’t help herself.

Three feet from the door to the cabin, a branch snapped under her foot. She stepped around it and continued up to the door. A light automatically flashed on, startling her at first. The chirr of insects grew louder. She lifted her hand and knocked.

“Sandy, are you in there?”

There was no response.

“I know it’s late and I don’t want to scare you. My name is Georgia Davis, and I’m an investigator working for Christine Messenger’s family.”

Nothing.

She knocked again. “Sandy, I know you’re in there. Please talk to me.”

Still no response. Was Sechrest that sound a sleeper? Or was it something else? The flashlight was in her left hand. She wondered if she should turn it on and look through a window.

“Sandy, I know you ran because you’re scared. I would be too. And I want to help, but time is running out. Please, if you’re in there, talk to me.”

Georgia thought she might have heard a floorboard creak inside the cabin. Adrenaline streaked through her. She let her right hand brush against her holster.

“Sandy?”

Suddenly a voice rang out from inside. “Drop your weapon in front of the door. Along with some ID.”

Georgia froze.

“Did you hear me? Drop the gun. And let me see your license.”

Georgia slid the Sig out of her holster and laid the flashlight at the door. Then she reached for her back pocket and extracted her driver’s license. She put that down by the door. With her other hand she leveled her Sig at the door.

A moment later, the door opened a crack. An arm snaked out and grabbed the flashlight and her license. The door closed. Then it opened again, just wide enough for Georgia to see the barrel of a shotgun aimed at her chest.

chapter
16

T
ime slowed down, softening the edges of Georgia’s awareness. All that was real was the night, the barrel of the shotgun, and her Sig. “Drop the fucking gun,” Sechrest ordered, “or I’ll blow your head off.”

Despite the harsh words, the woman’s voice was high-pitched and full of fear. And frightened people do irrational things. If she didn’t lay down the gun, Sandy Sechrest might do exactly what she threatened. And while Georgia might get off a shot herself, a bloodbath wouldn’t serve anyone’s purpose. She chose her words carefully.

“Okay, Sandy. Let’s not either of us do anything we’ll regret. I’ll put down my gun if you’ll do the same. Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you.” Georgia bent over to lay down her Sig.

“Hands up,” Sechrest said.

Georgia straightened, her hands in the air. “You’ve got to be pretty freaked out, Sandy. I understand. I’m here to help.” She wanted to get a look at her, see what her face showed, but the door was ajar only about eight inches, and all she could make out was the outline of Sechrest’s body. She looked to be about as tall as Georgia, but heavier by twenty soft pounds. Her cop instincts told her she could take Sechrest if she had to. But she wasn’t a cop. She was a PI, following a lead. She prayed the woman didn’t have an itchy finger.

How much time had passed? A second? A minute? An hour? If the woman didn’t back down in another second, she’d have to act.

“Sandy, I did what you wanted. Now put the shotgun down. We have to talk, and we don’t have much time. Someone else may be coming for you.”

“Who are you working for?” The woman asked.

“I told you. Terry Messenger. Chris Messenger’s ex-husband.”

There was an intake of breath. The owl screeched again. Georgia heard small creatures scuttling deep in the woods. Suddenly the woman’s face collapsed. The shotgun pointed at the floor. Sechrest’s shoulders started to heave, and Georgia heard repetitive, wrenching sobs that were oddly similar to the owl’s cries. “I knew it wasn’t an accident. Oh god.”

Georgia sagged in relief. “I’m coming in now, okay, Sandy?”

The woman nodded and turned away from the door. She was still carrying the shotgun. Georgia walked in, but not before slipping her Sig back in her holster. “Sandy, do me a favor. Put the shotgun down. I’m a former police officer. I get nervous around guns.”

“But what if... what if we need it?”

Georgia smelled fear on Sechrest’s body. Was the woman still rational? “Just put it somewhere safe while we talk.”

The woman hesitated, looked around, finally laid it on the kitchen table.

“Now, can you turn on a light?”

“No way!” Sechrest’s voice was laced with panic. “There aren’t any curtains on the windows. Anyone can see in.”

“Did you forget your Honda’s out front? How do you think I found you?”

“That’s just a car... it doesn’t mean I’m here too.” But she sounded less certain.

Georgia forced herself to remain calm and not tell her how naïve she was. “Listen. You heard me drive up, right?”