Finding Floyd (7 page)

Knocking gently, Diane called, "Vicky, are
you up here?" She pushed open the door.

"Come on in." Vicky turned to smile at her
friend. Dressed for something more than a casual Saturday afternoon
listening to music, Diane wore a deep blue dress with a flirty
skirt that revealed a healthy dose of cleavage. "Whoa! That dress
was made for you, girl. It's fabulous."

"What?" She stared at Vicky, wide-eyed and
then looked down. "Oh. The dress. Thanks, but you won't believe
what happened here today. Everything's freakin' crazy! All these
people just showed up this morning. Expecting breakfast!"

"Well, the word breakfast in 'Bed and
Breakfast' might be the reason," Vicky teased.

Diane began to pace. "Apparently it's
something these people do on Saturdays when the weather is good and
this was the first Saturday with decent weather. Sandy told them
she'd be away, but they came anyway. And that isn't even the
weirdest part."

"That's some crowd you have down there. We
thought you'd be all alone."

"I thought so too." Diane let out a sigh, and
flopped into an easy chair opposite her. "Until Chris Owen showed
up."

"What?" Vicky frowned.

"Chris was here," blurted Diane.

"Chris? You don't mean that FBI Agent."

"Yes, I do mean Chris Owen, the FBI Agent. He
showed up here yesterday. I think," Diane said, her voice trailing
off as she looked out at the rolling blue hills.

"You think? You're not sure it was him?"

"It was him all right." Diane sighed.

"What would he be doing in Virginia?" She
frowned, and then her voice rose. "Is he following you? If that guy
arrests you again, he's in big trouble."

"Well, he did save my life so, I'm actually
glad he came."

"Oh my god!? Was that crazy guy who
threatened Terry and John with the gun here! I thought they put him
in prison."

"No." Diane smiled. "It was nothing like
that. Thursday night there was a killer ice storm. It was like a
skating rink outside. Anyway, I went out and somehow I slipped on
the back porch steps and slid all the way down the hill to that
pile of wood at the bottom."

"Oh no! Diane, did you hurt yourself?"

"Not really, but then all the lights went out
and I couldn't drag myself back up the hill! Vic, I was so
scared."

"Oh my god Diane! So what happened?"

"I kept trying to crawl back up, but I kept
sliding back down. I was only wearing my nightie and robe. I was so
cold I started shaking." Diane gave a shiver just remembering the
icy night of terror.

"You could have died, frozen to death out
there!"

"I really thought I was going to freeze.
Then, out of nowhere, this guy comes along and rescues me, and it's
Chris Owen. It was crazy! I hadn't seen him since your
wedding."

"You're right, that is pretty weird." Her
brows rose in disbelief. "But I can't think that was a coincidence.
He must be following you!" Tentatively, she asked, "So, then what
happened?"

"I was all crusted with frozen sleet and my
teeth were chattering so hard I couldn't talk. My hands and feet
were totally numb. Chris built up the fire, peeled off my clothes
and rubbed me down with towels. He wrapped me in blankets. That
much I remember. He really did save my life," she said
solemnly.

She sat back and swiveled in the desk chair,
digesting Diane's story for a moment. "I want to know why that guy
is still following you." She sat up, smiling and saying, "Well it's
a good thing he was this time. So, the hot FBI guy got you naked in
front of a roaring fire. How was that?"

She shrugged. "Then nothing happened. The
power was still out. I went to sleep in the chair."

"Well, what about after you woke up? Did you
two get cozy?" Vicky teased

"No." Diane looked disappointed. "I haven't
been with a guy in so long, I don't even remember how." She paused,
looked at her hands for a minute and smiled dreamily. "In the
morning everything was covered with ice out there and we watched
that big tree blow over. We were totally iced in all day yesterday.
Just the two of us. It was romantic. We sat together on the couch
in front of the fire and he kissed me. I really wanted to drag him
into my room for a night of wild, meaningless sex, but..."

"So--did you?" she asked mischievously. "It's
really not your thing Diane, but hey, the opportunity..."

Diane sighed. "That's where it starts to get
weird. He sent me to bed and slept on the couch in the living room;
at least I think he did."

"You're not sure? What's with that?"

"I don't know. When I got up this morning, he
was gone. His stuff was gone and his car was gone. The ice was
melted. It was as though yesterday never happened."

"He must have left a note or sent you a text?
He didn't call?"

"Nothing! No note no text, no call. He must
have snuck out in the middle of the night to get away from me. Men
are all such stupid bastards!" wailed Diane, tears filling her
eyes. "Maybe I dreamed it all and he was never even here."

"There must be some reason. Maybe there was
an emergency. There must be a reason he had to leave in such a
hurry," she said.

"Oh hell, I don't know," said Diane, rising
and going to look out the window at the back yard where a dozen men
were talking and stacking wood on what was growing into a
tremendous pile. "I never have any luck at all with men. You're so
lucky to have Jack." She sighed and shrugged. "I'll never find a
guy that likes me. You have Jack, my brother and Marsha are married
and having a baby, and John and your cousin Terry are engaged. I'm
the only one left."

"Oh, Diane! Don't say that."

She turned to Vicky and shrugged. "You know
John and Terry are coming down tomorrow?"

"Yes. We all needed a little spring break
vacation. We thought you'd be lonely and bored with nothing to do
for two weeks."

A musical ringtone sounded from Diane's
phone. She slipped it from her pocket, looked at the screen, and
frowned. "It's Ralph Spangenberg. Why would he be calling me?"

"I don't know. I hope he's enjoying
retirement in Florida."

"Hello?" said Diane. Listening, she nodded
and her frown gradually thawing became a smile. She looked at Vicky
and whispered, "He's driving up from Florida and wants to stay a
couple of days."

"Great," Vicky mouthed in response.

"That would be fine, Ralph. It's good to hear
from you. No no. It's all right, really. You know that Vicky and
Jack are here too. John and Terry should be here tomorrow. Let me
give you directions. Please don't use GPS to get here. It's not
accurate and will send you all over."

Diane gave him directions, said goodbye, and
began to laugh. "I couldn't say no to Ralph. I guess I'm running a
bed and breakfast after all. Do you know that man has absolutely no
idea what GPS is?"

It was chilly and damp in the thicket where
Christopher Owen crouched, sipping his cold coffee from a Styrofoam
cup. The thin warmth of the sun hadn't managed to penetrate the
trees where he'd remained concealed all day. The gravel road to the
hunting cabin they had under surveillance looked deserted.
According to their sources, it hadn't been used for a few years,
but there were fresh tire tracks in the mud of the rutted road.
Agent Rodriguez was up there, somewhere behind the cabin. They'd
been waiting all day, with arrest warrant and handcuffs ready, for
their suspect.

Owen had known worse stakeouts, but this one
was no picnic. They had a tip, from a credible source, that the New
Jersey mob boss they'd been sent to find was hiding in the deserted
cabin. He stamped his feet to stimulate circulation and looked down
at his mud caked boots. How long would they have to wait for the
perp to show up this time?

He couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting
back to Diane. The girl had something that drew him irresistibly.
That moment, when the wind howled and blew powdery snow against the
window panes, just before the big tree came crashing down, had been
nothing less than magical. Rubbing his forearms, he shifted
position, trying to make himself comfortable. He was cold, but
nothing like she'd been when he'd found her out in the storm.

Diane had clung to him, shaking, as he'd
stripped the frozen robe off her icy wet body and briskly rubbed
her down with dry towels. She hadn't seemed to notice that she was
naked, as his hands moved over her breasts, around her slender
waist, over that sweet ass and down her legs. Her teeth had
chattered uncontrollably until he'd wrapped her in a blanket and
held her in his arms by the fire.

Damn the boss and damn Rodriguez. I'm an
idiot. What's wrong with me? I know I was on duty, but why didn't I
just climb into bed with Diane last night? I think she'd have been
willing. Who knows when I'll be able to get back to see her. My
texts won't even go from up here on the side of this mountain. Must
be in a dead zone. At least I left her that note, telling her how I
felt. As soon as I can get a signal, I'm going to call her. Thank
god I have her number. I'll just have to use the damn government
phone.

He snapped his head up and looked up and down
the road. I've got to stay focused on the job. His hand went to the
holstered Sig Sauer 9mm pistol on his hip. I need to forget about
Diane for now, and concentrate on what I'm doing.

He turned his head slowly, peering into the
woods. This time of year was when the black bears emerged hungry,
from their hibernation. The last thing I need is a confrontation
with a cranky bear.

Down below on the main road, a vehicle slowed
as it approached the turn. Could this be our man? Alert, he peered
down the gravel road to where it disappeared between the trees.

Bruno Toricello was on the lam, hiding out in
a hunting cabin in Floyd County, Virginia. The cabin was owned by
one of his many Jersey cousins. He was vigilant as he drove the
battered pickup truck along the winding mountain roads. As he
rounded curves that looped up and over wooded ridges, a few houses
or lonely weathered barns would appear, but he saw no people.

The truck was part of his cover, as were the
overalls, flannel shirt and Atlanta Braves ball cap. His Dixie
redneck disguise was a little thin, as nothing could hide the tough
looking heavy features that gave him away. Aviator dark glasses sat
on a wide nose that looked as though it'd been broken more than
once. A perpetual blue-black five-o'clock shadow with a half-smoked
cigar protruding from one corner of his cruel mouth didn't help
either. The perpetual cigar and ruthless manner of dealing with his
enemies had earned him the nickname, Bruno "Blowtorch" Toricello.
Despite his disguise, he looked exactly like the big city thug he
was.

When he'd left Jersey for Virginia, he'd
brought plenty of cash with him to avoid using credit cards and
leaving a paper trail. He'd spent the day food shopping and was
heading back to the safety of the cabin. Behind him were bags
filled with wine, bread, cheese, cold cuts, and several pounds of
what the grocery store's olive bar had to offer.

"Store's down here, they don't got any good
bread," he groused with irritation. He wasn't used to spending this
much time alone and had taken to talking to himself. "It ain't like
at home, where you could go buy a good loaf all over. How can they
live where you can't get good bread? There's no good pizza, can't
find no good Chinese food neitha. These hicks must eat nothin' but
ham and biscuits. I like a nice fluffy biscuit as much as the next
guy, but no nice crusty Italian bread?" He shook his head in
disgust.

His attention turned back to the road just in
time to swerve, barely missing the dead skunk lying in the middle
of the road. Toricello wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Speaking of
skunks, that stupid shit, Tony DePalma, let his ass get caught. The
guy's an amateur!" he ranted at the windshield. "Now he's in jail
spilling his guts to the police, the FBI and anybody else who wants
to listen. If I hadn't hired his ass, I wouldn't be stuck here
today. Biggest mistake I ever made. Here I am. Me. Bruno Toricello
holed up here like I'm friggin' Robin Hood out in the woods hiding
from the Sheriff."

Bruno drove along talking to himself and
gesturing with his hands. A dusty blue pickup approached and passed
him going the other way. The driver nodded and raised an index
finger from the steering wheel giving him a friendly Floyd County
greeting.

"What's with everybody givin' me the finger?
I don't get these people. They all do that. Don't even know what
finger to give. 'Hello?' Hey pal, it's the middle finger."

Toricello's drug and money laundering
operations in New Jersey were extensive. When Tony DePalma was
captured, he'd let $250,000 of Toricello's profits, drop neatly
into the hands of the FBI.

"Two hundred fifty grand wasn't enough money
to cripple my operation, but losing two hundred and fifty big ones?
Forget about it! He told me he had it! Next thing I know, the FBI
has the cash and they're climbing right up my ass. I can't afford
to let that little shit slide. Lucky for him, he's in jail,
otherwise I'd have his ass ground up and mixed in cement," he
growled at the windshield, biting down on the cigar butt.

"The Feds will never look for me here. It's a
good, safe place to hide. It really is the ass end of nowhere, he
mumbled, looking at his surroundings. Along the road, as it wound
through the hills, he saw patches of woods, or fields with a few
grazing cattle.

Rounding another curve, something caught his
eye and he slowed. An opening in the trees that might have once
been a road turned downward and out of sight, but there was
something, just the slightest glint of sunlight on metal. He turned
in carefully, driving a few yards to where the narrow track curved
away. He saw what had caught his attention. Parked off to the
right, a short way down was a very clean, black Chevy Suburban. He
craned his neck and could just see beyond it another vehicle. This
one was an anonymous looking dark blue sedan. Government law
enforcement transportation was easy to spot. Instantly the hair
rose on the back of his neck. He smelled the presence of the FBI.
Maybe they'd found him after all. He backed out and continued
driving slowly, but when he came to the road leading to the hunting
cabin, he kept on going. His instincts told him that something
wasn't right. Bruno Toricello hadn't survived this long,
successfully fending off rival mobsters and the cops, by not
listening to his instincts. For the time being, he'd find another
place to hide.