Sting (21 page)

Hearing murmured voices just outside his room, he raised his head as the door was eased open. When he saw who his new visitor was, he swore under his breath.

“Not a very nice greeting.” Xavier Dupaw, assistant district attorney of Orleans Parish, came to the side of his bed and took him in from head to toe,
tsk
ing. “My, my. Look at you.”

The prosecutor tried and failed to contain a smirk. “You are in deep,
deep
doo-doo this time, Mr. Kinnard. Up to your ungroomed eyebrows in Panella's doo-doo.” More
tsk
ing. “Of course, a day and a half spent alone with Jordie Bennett was a fringe benefit.” He winked.

Shaw wanted to tear out the guy's jugular with his teeth.

“No wiggle room for you this time, my friend.” Dupaw leaned down and whispered with devilish glee, “Let's get this party started!”

J
ordie kept the television in her bedroom tuned to the network morning shows, anticipating the local stations' break-ins. Because of their brevity, her rescue was only touched upon, and there was no mention of Shaw's condition. She paced until Gwen knocked on her door and told her that their Continental breakfast had arrived.

While sipping a cup of strong coffee, it occurred to Jordie how ill-advised it would be to meet with Agents Wiley and Hickam without having legal representation there. She didn't want to appear guilty of any wrongdoing. But she wasn't naïve, either.

She borrowed Gwen's phone to call the lawyer who'd been at her side when she was questioned six months earlier and therefore was familiar with the case.

Adrian Dover was in her forties, sharp, no pushover. Better still, recognizing the implications of Josh's escape and Jordie's abduction, she was willing to adjust her schedule and come to Jordie's aid on short notice. On Jordie's behalf, Gwen called Joe Wiley and asked if the interview could be moved back to noon, allowing Jordie time to confer with her lawyer. He granted the request.

A few minutes before twelve Gwen ushered Jordie and the attorney down a corridor in the FBI building and into an interrogation room, although it was not identified as such. Jordie had been through this drill before.

Wiley and Hickam were already there. Everyone was painstakingly polite. Jordie thanked Wiley for agreeing to the postponement. He said it was just as well, because one of the toilets at his house had overflowed, creating a minor flood in an upstairs hallway.

Jordie curbed her impatience for as long as she could before interrupting Wiley's anecdote about his wife's encounter with the indifferent and unhurried plumber.

“What is Shaw Kinnard's condition?” she blurted. “Did he make it through the surgery all right?”

The two men exchanged an uneasy glance.

Jordie's stomach plummeted. “He died?”

Wiley cleared his throat. “No. He came through the surgery okay and was expected to make a full recovery.”

She tried to keep her relief from being too obvious. But then she caught the tense of the verb. “
Was
expected?”

No longer the genial family man harassed by a faulty toilet, Wiley now assumed his game face. “About fifteen minutes ago, we got a call from the Houma hospital's administrator. Preemptive, I think. He's covering his…behind.”

“For what?”

“Kinnard is en route to a trauma center here in New Orleans. His condition is a lot more serious this time.”

Jordie's ribs seemed to shrink around her lungs. She couldn't take in sufficient air. “More serious than what I…what I did to him?”

“The admin guy described him as being critical. Of course, he's not a doctor.”

She wheezed. “What happened?”

Wiley's frown deepened. “An assistant DA here in Orleans Parish, name of Xavier Dupaw, failed to indict Kinnard on two murder raps when he had the chance to. He's been eating crow ever since. He heard about Kinnard's capture and went to see him in the hospital this morning.

“No one knows exactly what was said between them, and, believe me, Dupaw can be provoking as hell. Whatever he said caused Kinnard to go apeshit, if you'll pardon the French. He started yanking on his restraints, yelling that he was gonna kill Dupaw if it was the last thing he ever did.

“The admin guy described quite a scene. The upshot of it? Kinnard was too aggressive and hostile to be left down there in Houma. Dupaw insisted that he be moved immediately to a more secure facility, a hospital with bars on the windows, concertina wire around the perimeter, and dozens of guards, not just one deputy outside his door, who Dupaw described as ‘green as they come.'” He paused and looked at her with concern. “You want some water, Ms. Bennett?”

She shook her head.

“You sure?”

“Please go on.”

He hesitated, then resumed. “The hospital staff objected to him being moved, said their patient wasn't up to it, that he wasn't out of danger yet. Since Kinnard is technically Morrow's prisoner, Dupaw enlisted his help.

“After some arm-twisting, Deputy Morrow got the surgeon's clearance to make the transfer. The admin guy signed off on it. That's where the ass covering comes in. He doesn't want to be held responsible for what came later.”

Jordie's throat was too constricted to ask what had come later.

Wiley took a deep breath. He looked over at Hickam, who gave him a nod of encouragement to continue. “Somehow—we don't know the details yet, because we've been unable to confirm with Morrow. But somehow while in transit, Kinnard got hold of that green deputy's service revolver. Busted out of the ambulance and took off on foot. Almost made good his escape. Morrow managed to, uh, stop him.”

“Stop him.”

“We were told he ordered Kinnard to halt. He didn't. Morrow had no choice.”

“He shot him?”

Wiley just looked at her, which was answer enough. “They packed him back into the ambulance and, since they were closer to New Orleans, continued on this way rather than returning to Houma. I think the admin guy in Houma is relieved that it's out of his hands.”

“Because he doesn't expect him to survive.”

“He didn't come out and say it, but that's what I gathered.” Wiley ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I hate this for Morrow. He told me yesterday morning after Kinnard was apprehended that he was damned glad he hadn't had to use his weapon. Said he hoped to go his whole career without ever having to hurt anybody. He must've jinxed himself.” He paused before adding quietly, “I'm sure we'll hear from him when…when he has something definite to tell us.”

Jordie lowered her head and stared vacantly at the chipped edge of the particleboard table. Her ears were echoing the doleful beating of her heart.

“Shaw Kinnard was,
is
, a violent man, Ms. Bennett,” Hickam said. “With heinous crimes to his credit.”

She merely nodded.

Wiley said, “I know you have mixed feelings about this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

She raised her head and looked at Wiley, who seemed genuinely puzzled. “He wasn't violent with me. He frightened me, but didn't do anything
heinous
. He was offered a lot of money to kill me.” She raised her shoulders. “He didn't.”

No one said anything for a stretch of time. Then Wiley said, “That's not the only development we've had this morning. The other relates to your brother.”

She covered her mouth, whimpering, “Oh, God. No. Don't tell me—”

“He's alive,” Wiley said quickly. “At least he was a few hours ago.”

When he saw a question forming on her lips, he held up a hand. “I'll start the official questioning by telling you what we know. Uh, Hick, would you hit the switch on the video, please?” Then to her, he said with apology, “Procedure.”

When the camera was on and recording, he continued. “The canines picked up Josh's trail in the woods and tracked him to a storage facility that was three miles from there, give or take. The security cameras at the facility caught him before he disabled the system.”

“How did he do that?”

“It was old. Hardwired. We think he simply cut the power source. Management of the place provided us records. Josh rented the space using a fake name and paid for twelve months in advance. His unit was empty save for a motor oil stain in the middle of the floor.”

“He kept a car there?” she asked.

“Looks like.”

“He sold his car before being sent to Tennessee.”

“And the single mother who bought it still has it,” Wiley told her. “Hick checked on that this morning.”

The other agent confirmed that with a nod.

“Your brother has a different set of wheels,” Wiley continued. “We don't know what kind, because no one spotted him driving away from that storage outfit. But he's no longer so confident of his escape.” He paused to take a breath. “He called me this morning a little before dawn.”

Having had to absorb the shocking news about Shaw, Jordie now suffered another jolt. She listened without comment as Joe Wiley recounted his most recent conversation with Josh.

“He sounded different from when I talked to him night before last,” Wiley said. “He got really spooked when I told him that I had talked to Billy Panella last night.”

Jordie flinched.
“What?”
The shocks just kept coming.

“I used Bolden's phone. Same as Kinnard did. Just hit Redial.”

“Panella answered?”

“He expected it to be Kinnard demanding payment for services rendered. I identified myself and told him that his hired gun had been apprehended and that you were alive and well. Plan foiled.”

“What did he say?”

“Garbled some obscenities, then hung up. Now that he knows we have Bolden's phone, the one he answered is probably in pieces.”

Jordie murmured agreement to that. She was aware of Greg Hickam standing with his back to the wall, watching her intently and gauging her reactions to everything Wiley was telling her. Keeping her expression schooled, she said, “My brother is my main concern. Any indication of where he is, how he is?”

“If I knew where, he'd already be in custody. But I don't think he'll keep running much longer. He sounded strung out, jumpy, on the brink of falling apart. He was crying when he hung up.”

“I'm sure he's scared.”

“I think so, too,” Wiley said. “Told him he should be. But what, in particular, do
you
think has him scared enough to bawl like a baby?”

“You don't have to answer,” Adrian Dover said.

Jordie disregarded her. “He's scared of being recaptured because he knows the punishment he'll face.”

“Years in prison.”

“Yes, and that will be torture.”

“It isn't meant to be fun, Ms. Bennett.”

“Of course not. But for Josh, the lack of privacy is his worst nightmare.”

“You're referring to his scars,” Wiley said quietly.

She nodded and lowered her head sorrowfully. “They're unsightly, and Josh sees them as being even worse than they are. He's extremely self-conscious of them. Pathologically so.”

No one said anything for the next several moments, then Jordie raised her head. “I can't bear the idea of imprisonment for my brother and his being subjected to, well, everything that it entails, but I'll do the right thing, Agent Wiley. I'll answer truthfully any questions you put to me.”

Adrian Dover said, “Unless she exercises her constitutional right not to.”

Wiley began, and for approximately an hour they reviewed everything Jordie had already told them about her abduction. She found it almost impossible to speak Shaw's name without her throat seizing up.

Various aspects of the time he'd held her captive were covered repeatedly, until she said in a cracking voice, “Must we go over this again and again? There's nothing more I can tell you.”

Then from Hickam, “All right, then tell us about your trip to Costa Rica with Billy Panella.”

The switch in topics was so abrupt it took her aback.

“That's not a question,” Adrian Dover said.

“Excuse me. I'll be happy to put it in the form of a question.” Hickam pushed himself away from the wall. “Ms. Bennett, did you accompany Billy Panella to Costa Rica?” He checked his iPad and cited the dates.

“Yes.”

“What was the reason for the trip?”

The lawyer laid her hand on Jordie's arm and shook her head.

This time Jordie heeded her. “I've been advised by counsel not to answer.”

“Did you know that Panella had funds stashed in a bank in San Jose?”

“Not until yesterday when Agent Wiley alleged it.”

“Your brother made the deposit for him.”

“So Agent Wiley alleged.”

“You had no previous knowledge of this?”

“None.”

“You didn't know about Billy Panella's plans to flee the U.S.?”

“You don't have to answer.”

She turned to the lawyer. “I want to answer, Adrian.” Then to Hickam, “I didn't know Billy Panella's plans regarding anything. We rarely even spoke.”

“But you spent a long weekend with him.”

She divided a look between the two federal agents, but didn't say anything because her lawyer was whispering in her ear not to.

Hickam said, “You still claim to have no knowledge of funds in that bank?”

“Correct. I have no knowledge of them.”

Wiley sat forward, clasping his hands on the table and looking at her like the regretful bearer of bad news. “They remember you down there, Ms. Bennett.”

“Who? Where? What are you talking about?”

“The bank employees in San Jose. You paid a visit to it with Panella.”

“Oh. That.” Her shoulders sagged forward. Adrian Dover cautioned her not to say anything, but she held up a hand to silence her. “I want this cleared up, Adrian.”

She glanced at handsome, stoic Hickam, then met Wiley's sad-looking eyes. “Panella ordered a chauffeur-driven limousine to take us to lunch, a place on the mountainside overlooking the city. On the way there, he asked the driver to stop at a bank, where he said he had some quick business to attend to.

“I told him that I would wait in the car, but he insisted that I go into the bank with him.” She took a deep breath. “He made a spectacle of us. Flirted with the tellers, glad-handed the officers, and cashed a check. I was embarrassed by his grandstanding and couldn't wait to get out of there.”

She raised her hands. “That was it. I'm not surprised that the bank employees remember us, because it was a disgusting display of affluence. Him with his Armani suit and Patik Philippe watch. But that's all I know about a bank in San Jose. If Josh made a deposit—”