Into the Whirlwind (9 page)

Chapter Nine

Both men were sleeping, Luke sprawled on the sofa in Meg's living room, Dirk asleep on the couch in the family room.

Before he'd come back from Pamela's apartment, Dirk had called to tell her about the fingerprint and the Starbucks cup he and Luke had found. They were stopping at BOSS, Inc., leaving the print with Sadie to run through AFIS, the national fingerprint database, then dropping the paper cup at a place called Bellevue DNA Testing. A lab tech named Carrie—a lady friend of Luke's, according to Dirk—was making a special rush effort to find a match.

When they got back to the house, Meg had summoned enough energy to scramble them some eggs, fry some bacon, toast some twelve-grain bread, and brew a fresh pot of coffee—about the extent of her cooking skills, aside from an occasional batch of spaghetti made with bottled sauce or baking brownies for Charlie.

Still, the guys seemed to enjoy the meal. They ate like lumberjacks starved for a week.

Afterward, while they waited for word from Sadie and results from the lab, Dirk had done his best to convince her to go upstairs to get some sleep. But she had tried and failed before. Maybe if she were cuddled up next to him—

Meg cut off the thought. That wasn't going to happen. Not now, not ever.

She looked across the breakfast counter into the family room, caught a glimpse of Dirk's wide shoulder, all that showed above the back of the sofa in front of the fireplace, where he slept on his side.

If Charlie were home, he would be stretched out on the carpet, propped on his elbows in front of the TV watching cartoons, laughing at whatever it was an almost-three-year-old thought was funny.

A fresh round of tears collected in her throat. Meg sucked in a determined breath and forced away the urge to cry.

She couldn't afford to give in to her tears, couldn't afford to think of the terrible things that might be happening to her son. Pamela was with him, she reminded herself. She had always been good with Charlie. The kidnappers just wanted money. Pam would keep Charlie safe.

She glanced at the kitchen clock. Dirk and Luke had been sleeping for almost two hours. The afternoon was dragging, moving with agonizing slowness. A few minutes ago, her dad had called her cell and told her he was on his way over, that he was only a few blocks away.

Meg told him about the fingerprint and possible DNA they had found, said that everything was on hold until the test results came back.

“Where are the men now?” her dad had asked.

“Taking a power nap.” That's what Dirk had called it. “They were awake all night. They're trying to keep their focus.” She asked him to come in through the back door so he wouldn't disturb them.

She heard him outside just then, caught his wave through the kitchen window as he walked past, and went to let him in through the laundry room. He stepped through the door, pulled her into his arms, and gave her a badly needed hug.

He kissed her forehead, caught her shoulders, and stepped back to survey her pale, weary face. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. Have you had any sleep at all?”

Meg smoothed flyaway loose strands of the ponytail she had haphazardly fashioned that morning. “I've tried. I didn't have much luck.”

“You can't go on like this. You have to get some rest. You won't be any good to anyone if you're dead on your feet.”

“I know. Maybe I'll try again later.”

Her father nodded, both of them knowing how useless the effort would be. “So we're waiting for something to break?” he asked.

“Either that or a ransom call. Dirk doesn't think the kidnappers will phone before the deadline.”

“Good. Getting that much money in cash on such short notice wasn't as easy as I imagined.”

Meg looked into his beloved face, finger-combed his fading red hair back into place, wished she could smooth the worry lines from his forehead. “I know you'll get the money. I know you'll do whatever it takes to bring Charlie home.”

He caught her hand, wrapped his fingers around it, and squeezed. “I wish this hadn't happened to you. You don't deserve it. In a way, I'm the one who's responsible. The money I've made—that's what they're after. Doesn't matter to them that I've worked hard all my life and earned every penny.”

She glanced up at the sound of footsteps, felt a little rush of awareness as she watched Dirk approach in that restless stride of his.

“People like these,” he said, “they don't care where the money comes from or who it belongs to. They want it. They're willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”

Her gaze ran over him, the dark-blue thermal that hugged his wide shoulders and impressive chest, the jeans riding low on his hips. He'd had less than two hours' sleep and yet he looked alert and rested, looked as good as he had when she had first seen him hammering away on his house.

It didn't seem fair.

“How long before we hear anything?” her father asked.

“Hard to say.” Dirk walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup of the French roast she had brewed. “Sadie's still digging into Bob Algreen. Might be something there, but it wouldn't be him personally. He'd hire the players, people who know how to get something like this done. She's looking into his e-mail, seeing if there's anything suspicious. She'll be checking his credit card records, trying to see if he's visited the kinds of places he could make the necessary contacts.”

Her dad studied Dirk with renewed interest. “You really think there's a chance Bob Algreen is the man behind this?”

“What do you think? You know him, right? You think he'd go this far to get payback for losing his job?”

Her father ran a finger over one of his thick, red eyebrows. “I don't know. I did a little digging myself. Stopped by the country club on my way over here, talked to a few of my golf buddies. I dropped Algreen's and Dunham's names, asked what they were up to lately. Both were members of the club when they worked for Solar-Renew.”

“And . . . ?”

“And one of the guys told me Bob's wife has lung cancer. She was a smoker for years.”

“He'd have insurance, right? With the company he works for now? North Pacific?”

“She was diagnosed while he was laid off. He's covered now, but apparently he incurred a boatload of bills.”

Dirk took a sip of his coffee. “We'll stay on him. Nice work, by the way.”

Her dad seemed pleased by the words. He wanted to help. He wanted to bring Charlie home.

Her father turned his attention to her. “I came by to make sure you're okay. If you need me to stay, I will. If not, I've got a little more legwork to do to get the funds lined up.”

“Dirk and Luke are here, and Rose will be coming back. I'm okay.”

Her dad bent and kissed her cheek, looked over at Dirk. “Keep an eye on her, will you?”

“I'll take care of her.”

“And keep me posted.”

Dirk nodded. “Same goes.”

At the words, Meg thought her dad stood up a little straighter. She appreciated the way Dirk was handling him, making him an important part of what they were doing, more than just the man with the money. She had never imagined her dad and Dirk would get along. Now she wondered....

Luke was still sleeping when her father slipped out the back door, leaving Dirk in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.

He headed for the dining room. “Let's see if Sadie's sent any mail.”

Meg followed him, heard his cell start playing, and her pulse kicked up.

Dirk dragged out his phone, spoke into the receiver, listened, then mouthed, “It's the lab.” The call went on for a couple of minutes. “That's great, Carrie. Thanks for the extra work. I really appreciate it, and I know Luke does, too.”

As the call came to an end, Luke wandered into the dining room. “What's up?” he asked, raking his fingers through his sun-streaked brown hair.

“That was your girlfriend,” Dirk said. “Or should I say one of your girlfriends, specifically the one who works at the lab. Carrie came up with a DNA match on the coffee cup. Guy named Vincent ‘Vinnie' Santini.”

Luke smiled. “Vinnie Santini, alias Vincent Sandoval.”

“Exactly.”

“Last known whereabouts?”

“Portland, Oregon.”

“Same as Pam's mother,” Luke said.

“Yup. Vinnie did two years at the Columbia River Correctional Institution for a string of burglaries in the Portland area. He just got out six months ago.”

“Pam lived in Portland before she moved here,” Meg said. “I remember she mentioned it.”

Dirk's gaze swung to her. “How long's she lived in Seattle?”

“At least a couple of years. She's worked for me for more than a year. She was working at the day-care center before that.”

“So a couple years back, Pam meets Santini in Portland,” Luke said. “He catches up with her again in Seattle when he gets out of jail.”

Dirk sat down in front of the laptop, set his coffee mug down on a coaster on the dining table, and brought up his e-mail. “Carrie sent us a photo.”

Meg and Luke both leaned in to look over Dirk's shoulder.

“Guy's real pretty,” Luke said. “Except for the nose. Black hair, strong features, Italian-looking.”

“He's handsome,” Meg said. “His nose just gives him character.”

“Yeah, all of it low,” Luke said.

Dirk reached for his coffee mug and took a sip. “If he's in touch with Pam, he knows we tracked her to the kidnappers' safe house.”

“Which means,” Luke said, “by now he's gone to ground.”

“So how are we going to find him?” Meg asked.

Luke rubbed his unshaven cheek. Neither of the men had shaved in the last two days. Amazingly, they looked even hotter with beard shadows along their jaws.

“Let's see what Sadie can tell us.” Dirk e-mailed Santini's name to his office, along with the rest of the info the woman named Carrie had given him.

A minute or two later, the computer dinged with an e-mail reply. “Sadie took a look at the court docs,” Dirk said. “Santini claimed he had a gambling addiction. He committed the burglaries to get money to support his habit. Threw himself on the judge's mercy.”

“Did it work?” Meg asked.

“Santini agreed to join Gamblers Anonymous. In return, he got a lesser sentence and a year's probation.” Dirk looked up from the screen. “I know this guy Santini's probation officer. Allen Whitlow. Good guy. He works out of the Seattle Justice Center. Might be able to give us Santini's address.”

Dirk phoned his friend, but by the time the call was over, he was shaking his head. “Santini was using Pam's address as his place of residence.” Dirk pushed back his chair and stood up. “Add to that, he hasn't shown up for his last two appointments.”

Meg's shoulders sagged. It seemed like they had hit another dead end.

“I might know someone who can help,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You always know someone,” said Dirk.

Luke flicked him an amused glance but made no reply.

“Okay, so let's talk to this guy you know,” Dirk said. “See if he knows where to find Santini.”

“Unfortunately the two of us aren't exactly chummy. Quan Feng's his name. Runs an illegal gambling parlor in the International District. Mid- to higher-level play, manages to stay off the grid.” Luke's gaze shifted to Meg. She could feel the power of those intense, laser-blue eyes as if they had reached out and grabbed her.

“Santini's a gambler,” Luke continued, his eyes still on her face. “Odds are that hasn't changed. Feng knows everything that goes on in the gambling world. Everything and everybody. He caters to the kind of people who prefer to keep their personal business on the down low. The ones who like to move around in the shadows. The bad news is, if we want to talk to Feng, we'll need a way in.”

Luke was sending her a message, Meg realized. A little chill ran up her spine. She understood where he was going. “You think a woman will help you get in.”

“No way.” Dirk moved between her and Luke. “That isn't going to happen. Meg's a mother, for chrissake. Her boy's been kidnapped. No way are we involving her in this.”

“I'm already involved,” Meg said.

“You might be recognized,” Dirk said, scowling.

“I don't work for La Belle anymore and I'll change my appearance. I won't be recognized.”

“The boy's her son,” Luke said. “Should be her decision.”

Meg's gaze went to Dirk. The muscles in his jaw were tight. He looked ready to plow a fist into his best friend's face.

“We need to find Santini,” Meg said before the tension in the room could escalate any further. “I'll do whatever that takes.”

Dirk stared at Luke. “You sure this is the only way?”

“There're other ways. We just don't have time to dick around and figure them out.”

Dirk must have read the resolve in Meg's face. “How rough is this joint?” he asked Luke. “Doesn't sound like a safe place for a woman.”

“She'll be fine. There'll be other women there, and we'll be right beside her. We just get in, find Feng, get him to answer our questions, then get the hell out.”

Dirk released a frustrated breath. His hazel eyes returned to Meg. “Okay, you're in. But you do what I tell you.
Exactly
what I tell you.”

For some crazy reason his macho, overprotective attitude made her feel better. He was worried about her, taking care of her the way he had before. If it weren't for Charlie, she would have smiled. “I'll do whatever you say.”