Lethal (33 page)

He was right, of course. A police officer, who was a friend to both Fred and Doral, had called Doral with news of this latest development. Out of loyalty, Doral had in turn called Stan. While Crawford was still pulling together a team, the two of them had been speeding here.

But even with the head start, they’d arrived only minutes before Crawford, which had been long enough for Stan to determine that the ramshackle boat had recently been inhabited. The sheets on the bunks were still warm, although he’d hated making that observation, especially in front of Doral. It unnerved him to think of his late son’s widow, and Emily, of course, being that cozy with Lee Coburn.

Coburn wasn’t so careless as to leave the phone behind. He’d left it deliberately, using it as a decoy to attract the posse to the boat, while he was moving away from it and taking Stan’s family with him.

It was galling.

He and Doral had been talking about Coburn’s caginess before the arrival of Crawford and his team. “I’ve bribed everybody I know to bribe, Stan,” Doral had said with disgust. “Nobody can, or will, say definitely.”

It hadn’t taken long for the rumor to circulate through
the police department, then beyond, that Lee Coburn might be a federal agent who’d been working undercover in Sam Marset’s trucking firm. Which would put an entirely different spin on Sunday night’s massacre.

About that, Stan’s feelings were ambiguous. He hadn’t quite determined what he thought of that and how, if it was true, it affected him.

But Doral had. He’d told Stan, “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Coburn shot my brother in cold blood. I don’t care if he’s a felon, a feeb, or the prince of darkness, I’m gonna kill him.”

Stan understood the sentiment. Regardless of who or what Coburn was, he’d made an enemy of Stan when he’d cast suspicion on Eddie. And now Honor’s reputation was being compromised. If Coburn had taken Honor and Emily as insurance for a safe getaway, why hadn’t he abandoned them by now? If his reason for taking them had been ransom, why hadn’t he demanded it?

And if Honor was a hostage, why hadn’t she left them a trail they could follow? She was a clever girl. She must realize that dozens of law enforcement personnel and volunteers were scouring the countryside in search of her and Emily. Surely she could have figured out a way to leave subtle signposts.

If she had wanted to
. That’s what gnawed at Stan. What kind of sway did this man Coburn hold over her?

Doral had remarked on the close quarters of the cabin below, and then had looked at Stan, his eyebrows raised. And now Stan could tell that Crawford’s thoughts were moving along that same track.

Stan bluffed. Taking an aggressive stance, he said to Crawford, “I suggest you stop wasting time and begin tracking where Coburn took my family from here.”

“I’ll get on that myself,” Doral said and started to go.

Deputy Crawford put out a stiff arm to stop him. “Don’t you have a funeral to plan?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I understand why you’d want to hunt down your brother’s killer and get revenge. But this is a police matter. Nobody invited you to participate. And if I find out who’s feeding you information from inside the P.D., or from inside the sheriff’s office, I’m going to nail his ass to a fencepost.”

Doral moved Crawford’s arm aside. Smirking, he said, “I’d pay to see that,” then left the boat.

Crawford ordered two of the officers to search the craft for clues, starting with the cabin. They clumped down the steps. He sent the rest out to search the surrounding area for footprints, tire tracks, anything.

When he and Stan were alone, Crawford said, “I couldn’t help but notice the name of the boat, Mr. Gillette.
Honor
.”

“It belonged to her father.”

“Past tense?”

“He died several years ago.”

“She owns it now?”

“I suppose.” Honor hadn’t mentioned her father or his boat since his demise. It had never crossed Stan’s mind to ask what had become of the trawler. It was hardly a coveted legacy.

Crawford said, “You might have mentioned the boat yesterday.”

“I didn’t think of it. In any case, I wouldn’t have known where it was moored.”

“You didn’t keep track?” he asked, sounding surprised. Or maybe skeptical.

“No. I didn’t like her father. He was an aging, dope-smoking hippie who called himself a shrimper but was actually a ne’er-do-well who never had two nickels to rub together. He wore beads and sandals, for godsake. Look
around,” he said, raising his arms. “He lived on this boat. The condition of it speaks to the kind of person he was.”

“And yet your daughter-in-law came here to hide.”

Stan actually took a threatening step toward the deputy. “I resent the implication that Honor is
hiding
from me.”

Crawford wasn’t intimidated. He didn’t back down. “You’ve heard the rumor about Coburn being a fed.”

He stated it as fact. Stan said nothing.

Crawford pulled a knowing frown. “Come on, Mr. Gillette. You’ve heard the rumor. What do you think about it?”

Stan wasn’t going to confirm or deny anything to this man in whom he had little confidence. “All that concerns me is the safe return of my daughter-in-law and grandchild. I’m going to leave you now and try to find them myself.”

Crawford sidestepped to block Stan’s path. “Couple of things first.” He paused for a beat, then said, “Mrs. Gillette obviously had access to her cell phone. So why didn’t she call 911? Or you? If she wanted to be found, wouldn’t she have done that instead of letting her little girl play games on her phone?”

Stan schooled his expression not to change. “You said a couple of things.”

“You might want to reconsider who you ally yourself with.”

“Why?”

“I received an initial ballistics report. The bullet that killed Fred Hawkins didn’t match any of the ones fired during the warehouse mass murder.”

Stan was quick with an explanation. “Coburn would have dumped the guns he used at the warehouse. They’re probably at the bottom of a bayou. He used another to shoot Fred.”

“Or,” the deputy said, drawing out the qualifier, “he wasn’t the warehouse shooter.”

S
he’s a babe.”

It was the first time either Coburn or Honor had spoken in five minutes. Even Emily sat still and untalkative in Honor’s lap, having stopped the game of her own invention with Elmo and lapsed into the same brooding silence.

Coburn looked at Honor. “Come again?”

“Tori will knock your eyes out. She’s a babe.”

“What Tori is,” he said tightly, “is not here.”

“She will be.”

“We’ve been waiting for over an hour.”

“She’s a busy lady.”

“At six o’clock in the morning?”

“Her fitness center opens early.” Although she knew that Tori didn’t personally open the club each morning, she was trying to reassure Coburn, and possibly herself, that Tori would show up. “Eventually someone will check the business line for voice mail messages. If you had called her cell phone—”

“We’ve been through that.”

They had. He’d rejected calling Tori’s personal phone for the same reason he didn’t want Honor placing the call herself. “Anything that goes down will be on my head, not yours,” he’d said.

“Tori and I could be accused of aiding and abetting.”

“You could say I used your kid to coerce you.”

“I could swear to that under oath.”

“There you go.”

Now, as they sat waiting for a sign from Tori, Honor said, “As soon as she gets the message, she’ll come. We just need to be patient.”

But he looked like a man whose patience had run out an hour ago when they had arrived at the designated place. He looked around now and, not for the first time, expelled his breath while mouthing words that Emily shouldn’t overhear. “We’re like sitting ducks. Right out in the open.”

“Well, what did you expect of a secret meeting place?”

“I expected it to have walls,” he fired back.

“It’s safe. No one knows about it except Tori and me.”

“Maybe she forgot that silly code.”

“She didn’t forget.”

“What’s it mean, anyway?”

“It means Ken’s a dork.”

He muttered another vulgarity.

Okay, so the phrase
was
silly, considering their ages now. But when she and Tori had first sworn an oath on it, they’d been giggling girls. Then they’d continued to use it into their teens to communicate whenever one needed to see the other immediately. It meant, “Drop everything, come now, this is an emergency.”

Of course when they were in high school an emergency had amounted to an adolescent trauma like heartache over
a boyfriend, a hateful teacher, a failing grade, and, in Tori’s case, a missed menstrual period. Today’s emergency was for real. “Why here?” he asked.

“Here” was an ancient live oak tree that had roots bigger around than Honor, snaking along the ground in every direction from its enormous trunk. It had withstood centuries of hurricanes, blights, land developers, and other hazards. Imposing and magnificent, it almost appeared artificial, like something a Hollywood set designer had constructed and plunked into the clearing.

“Meeting out here in the countryside added to the thrill of sneaking out, I suppose. We discovered this place on the day I got my driver’s license. We were exploring because we could. We came across the tree out here in the middle of nowhere and claimed it as our own.

“From then on, we met here to talk about things that were too sacred even to share over the telephone.” She could tell he wasn’t quite getting it. “Teenage girls can be terribly dramatic, Coburn. It’s hormonal.”

He made a nonverbal sound that she couldn’t interpret, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Threading her fingers through Emily’s hair, she said wistfully, “I suppose one day Emily will be sneaking out to meet—”

She broke off when Coburn sat up, suddenly alert. “What kind of car does she drive?”

“A Corvette.”

“Then that’s not her.” He reached for the pistol at his waistband.

“Wait! That’s not her car, but that’s Tori. And she’s alone.”

The small, unfamiliar red-and-white car bumped across the creaky wooden bridge and then followed the rutted path toward the tree, stopping twenty yards short of it.
Honor opened the passenger door so Tori could see her. Emily scrambled out, jumped to the ground, and broke into a run, shouting, “Aunt Tori!”

Tori alighted from the Mini Cooper and was waiting to catch Emily and swing her up into her arms. “You’re getting so big! I won’t be able to do this much longer.”

“Guess what,” Emily said, wiggling free of Tori’s hug.

“What?”

“Coburn said if I would just be quiet and let him think, then he would get me an ice cream. Only not now. Later. And guess what else. We slept on a boat that used to be where my grandpa lived. Not Grandpa Stan, my other grandpa. The beds were funny and didn’t smell nice, but it was okay because we’re on a ’venture. I woke Coburn up, and when I did, he said a bad word. But Mommy told me that sometimes grown-ups say words like that when they’re very upset. But Coburn isn’t mad at me, just at the sidjeeashun.”

When Emily wound down, Tori said, “My goodness. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

Over Emily’s shoulder, she was looking at Honor and telegraphing a hundred unspoken questions. She kissed Emily’s cheek, then set her down. “Let me talk to your mommy for a minute.”

She extended her open arms to Honor, and the two of them embraced. For several moments they just held each other tightly. Finally, Tori released her and sniffed back tears. “I could kill you for causing me such a fright. I’ve been worried sick.”

“I knew you would be, but there was no help for it.”

“The news stories led me to fear… Well, I’m just awfully glad to see that you and Emily are still in one piece. Did he…? Are you…? God, I’m so
relieved
,” Tori said emotionally.
“You look like something the cat drug in, but you seem fine.”

“We are. Basically. I’m sorry you were so afraid for us. He wouldn’t let me call you until this morning. And even then he wouldn’t let me call you directly. I wasn’t sure you’d get the message. But he—”