Grant Mckenzie Page 19

  Sam moved to sit in a chair facing her.

  The woman lifted her gaze, tears overflowing red rims. ‘The children are at my mother’s. Just around the corner. They . . . they needed to be out of the house.’

  ‘I’m sorry to intrude,’ Sam said. ‘It’s just so important that we talk.’

  ‘I don’t know who they were.’

  ‘What did they want?’ Sam asked carefully.

  ‘Nothing from us. It was Alan they wanted to talk to.’

  ‘They threatened him?’

  ‘Yes. They said they would do things . . . to me . . . to my children.’ She turned to look out of the front window at the quiet street beyond. Her voice became unnervingly calm. ‘If they had tried to harm my children, I would have killed them. They were large men, but I still would have—’ She inhaled sharply. ‘I never knew I had that in me.’

  ‘How many men?’

  ‘Three. One stayed with me. Another watched Dorrie and Clay. They had guns, but they kept them in their belts.’

  ‘Who called your husband?’

  ‘The third one. I never saw him. He entered behind the other two and went straight into my husband’s library. He made the call from there. We were kept in here.’

  ‘You heard his voice?’

  ‘Yes, but not clearly. He was very calm, soft spoken. I only heard the occasional word when he was telling Alan what he planned to do to us. At one point, he called for the guard to make me scream. I . . . I found it harder to stop than to begin. A few moments later, there was a loud pop and the sound of breaking glass. The men left us, and I ran to the phone. It had been set to speaker mode. He wanted me to hear those sounds. That’s when I talked to you.’

  ‘Did you recognize the man’s voice? Was it familiar in any way?’

  She shook her head. ‘It was just a voice. It could have been anyone’s.’

  ‘No accent, no familiar cadence?’

  ‘Just a voice,’ she repeated.

  ‘Do you know of anyone who would want to harm your husband?’

  Mrs Robertson’s eyes were focused miles away. ‘Everyone loves Alan. It even makes me jealous sometimes.’ She smiled. ‘People light up around him. He inspires them. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his entire body.’

  Sam huffed in frustration. ‘What about the two men who watched over you? Did you recognize anything about them?’

  ‘They were just large men with big muscles. They wore those clear plastic masks over their faces that always give you the creeps at Halloween. The masks frightened the children. Only one of them spoke.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Just what you would expect. Stay calm. His boss needed to speak to Alan. Just the essentials.’

  ‘Was there anything about his voice?’

  ‘Not really. He didn’t have an accent or anything distinctive, but I had the feeling he wasn’t very intelligent. All brawn and no brain.’

  ‘Is there nothing that stands out?’ Sam pleaded, desperation suddenly flooding his voice. ‘Anything? Anything at all?’

  The woman locked eyes with Sam and tilted her head, her focus shifting to take in his worn face and stained clothes.

  ‘You’re not the police.’ Panic began to rise. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘They have my family,’ Sam said quickly. ‘My wife and daughter. I need to find them.’

  ‘You’re friends with Alan?’

  ‘We went to the same high school, but we didn’t know each other. Whoever did this to you has an agenda that we can’t figure out.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Zack Parker is with me. His daughter was killed.’

  She gasped. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘We don’t know. Just as we don’t know what Alan did.’

  ‘My husband is a saint,’ she said angrily. ‘He has done nothing wrong.’

  Sam held up his hands. ‘None of us deserve this, but we need to find out who believes we do. That’s why I came here. To find something. Anything.’

  The woman shook her head angrily, white saliva beginning to pool at the corners of her mouth. ‘Where is my husband? I want to see my husband.’

  Sam looked down at his hands. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Mrs Robertson got to her feet. ‘What for?’

  Sam looked up. ‘Your husband shot himself in his office. Those were the sounds you heard.’

  The woman’s face distorted before him like a funhouse mirror. Sadness and rage seemed unable to mix. And then she began to scream; a hysterical cacophony of noise that threatened to raise the roof and shatter the windows.

  Sam lurched to his feet and tried to comfort her, but his closeness enraged her further and she lashed out at him with fists and nails. Sam stepped back and tripped over a rug, suddenly afraid for his own safety.

  Zack burst through the front door, his eyes wide with panic. ‘What did you do?’

  The woman spun to face him, her lips curling in a snarl even as her face crumpled in grief and anger.

  ‘GET OUT!’ she screamed. ‘GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!’

  Sam scrambled to his feet and dragged Zack outside to the car.

  ‘Drive,’ he commanded. ‘The cops will be here any minute.’

  ‘What about her?’ Zack asked.

  Sam looked back at the house, the woman’s screams still echoing. ‘She needs a doctor more than she needs us. The police will call for one. Now let’s go.’

  Zack took a deep breath and put the car into drive. Neighbours were already rushing towards the house as they drove away.

  92

  Detective Preston walked around the large office, fascinated by the massive windows that overlooked the lobby.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind people gawping at you every time you scratch your ass.’

  Hogan walked behind the desk and glanced at the computer screen. The screensaver showed binary code falling like rain. He nudged the mouse to cancel the effect and called to his partner.

  ‘This is why patrol called us.’ He indicated the three news stories displayed on the monitor. ‘The late Mr Robertson was looking into White and Parker.’ He frowned. ‘Is that receptionist still outside?’

  ‘The plump one? Yeah.’

  Preston stepped out in the hallway and returned with the receptionist. The woman had black mascara tracks running down her cheeks and her attempted clean-up had ruined her foundation, leaving odd-shaped blotches where her natural flesh showed through.

  Hogan smiled encouragingly as he crossed in front of the transparent desk. ‘Thanks for sticking around. I know it must be difficult. You probably want to be home with your family.’

  The woman sniffled, her hand automatically dabbing a crumpled tissue below her nose.

  ‘Had you known Mr Robertson long?’ Hogan asked.

  ‘We just had a company party celebrating twenty years. I was one of his first employees.’ She sniffled again. ‘Mr Robertson hired me right after he moved from his parents’ garage to his first real office.’

  ‘Wow!’ Hogan said, impressed. ‘He must have been a good boss for you to be here so long.’

  ‘He was a very generous man. Every employee here is also a shareholder. He’s made a lot of us very comfortable. I just hope—’

  ‘He ever talk about high school?’ Hogan interrupted.

  ‘He went to Brookside, right here in the city. He was invited to speak there many times over the years at graduations. He was a very good speaker. Inspirational, you know?’

  Hogan smiled receptively. ‘Any old school friends ever show up? Apart from the two you mentioned who visited just before . . .’ Hogan let it trail off, not wanting to invite another round of waterworks.

  The receptionist shook her head. ‘Not that I recall.’

  After the woman left the room, Hogan crossed to the broken window and looked down at the lobby.

  ‘Why does it tie to that?’ he said after a moment. ‘High school. Christ, some people can’t let it go.’

  Hogan’s vo
ice drifted and he suddenly pulled a file from his jacket pocket. He began to read.

  Preston knelt down by the blood spot and scratched his nose. ‘Forensics uncover anything at the wife’s house?’

  ‘It looks professional,’ Hogan said mechanically, his attention diverted. ‘Gloves and masks. No names used and no prints left behind.’

  ‘At least that rules out White.’ Preston stood up and his knees cracked. ‘He hasn’t been shy about showing his face. And I’m assuming this Zack fellow the receptionist mentioned is our elusive Dr Parker.’

  Hogan turned, his face alight with an idea. ‘I’m thinking Parker and White came here to warn Robertson that someone was holding a grudge. Maybe it’s tied into the rape back in high school, but somehow they figured out he was next on the list. They just got here too late.’

  ‘But Parker and White were cleared of any involvement in the rape,’ said Preston. ‘They weren’t even called as witnesses at the trial.’

  ‘No, but Robertson was?’

  ‘What?’

  Hogan tapped the file in his hand. ‘He wasn’t a suspect, but his name appears as a witness for the prosecution.’

  93

  Sam pushed open the motel door. ‘You know what doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Like any of this does?’ Zack snapped. He kicked the door closed and stripped off his wet jacket.

  Sam ignored the outburst. ‘If the kidnapper wanted money, why did he come to me for it and not Robertson? He obviously had the dough.’

  ‘Maybe that was the problem.’ Zack began to shiver violently as he unzipped his pants. ‘It would have been too easy for him. He–he’s playing us . . . destroying us. He let Robertson off light.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Zack, his skin a sickly grey in the room’s harsh light, headed for the shower. ‘Maybe he disliked him the least.’

  ‘Or he was just a loose end,’ Sam said to Zack’s back. ‘Someone who could point a finger in his direction. Nothing personal, like with us, just business.’

  ‘But if it is personal with us—’ Zack stopped in mid-sentence, his hand on the door to the shower.

  Sam picked up the thread. ‘If it is personal, then the money means nothing. Even though we’ve raised the full amount, my family could still die.’

  94

  As they exited Robertson’s office building, Preston turned to his partner. ‘This actor really got to you, didn’t he? You’ve been willing to accept his innocence from the start.’

  Hogan shrugged. ‘It’s not him so much as the story.’

  ‘About his family being kidnapped?’

  ‘Yeah. Somebody also threatened Robertson’s family, but instead of money they demanded he take his own life.’

  ‘Pretty harsh.’

  ‘Fucking brutal, more like.’ Hogan exhaled noisily. ‘What would you do?’

  Preston didn’t hesitate. ‘I wouldn’t trust them. If I’m dead, how do I know they don’t kill my family anyway?’

  ‘You wouldn’t trust them if they were strangers,’ Hogan proposed. ‘But what if it was someone you knew, someone who sent you proof of how they were destroying the lives of other people you had a connection to?’

  ‘Like Parker and White.’

  ‘Exactly. So now your choice is to take your own life or have that life, and your family, destroyed.’

  Preston bristled angrily. ‘That’s one sick fuck.’

  Hogan looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you hated the F word.’

  Preston snorted. ‘If you’re right, this bastard warrants an exception.’

  95

  Sam gathered up Zack’s crumpled jacket and pants as the shower shut off.

  ‘I saw a dry cleaner’s just a block over,’ Sam called through the closed door. ‘I’ll take your suit and get it dried.’

  The bathroom door opened, releasing billows of warm, moist steam. Zack walked out of the fog, his face flush from the heat, a white towel wrapped around his waist. He was so skinny, Sam could see every rib and bone.

  Zack wiped a knuckle across his eyes as he unashamedly dropped the towel, exposing more white patches on his upper thighs.

  ‘We could buy new ones,’ he said. ‘You still have a credit card, right?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t mind the walk. Get my head clear, you know? I need to figure out our next step. After the scene at Robertson’s, the cops will be looking for both of us.’

  Zack crawled into bed. ‘I just need to close my eyes for a bit.’ He paused. ‘Seeing Alan today . . . I swear I saw my daughter’s face in his eyes. Like he was already with her . . . holding my place.’

  ‘Take an hour. I’ll drop your suit at the cleaner’s, but then we’ll need to blow this place. We should probably ditch the car, too.’

  Zack was no longer listening.

  Sam dropped Zack’s suit at the dry cleaner’s and asked for a one-hour turnaround. The male clerk rolled his eyes and Sam had a flash of anger so violent he wanted to grab the snot by the hair and smash his face into the counter until flesh turned to bloody pulp.

  Instead, he hissed, ‘Is that going to be a problem?’

  The young clerk quickly shook his head.

  Sam stormed back outside, not wanting his frustration to be directed at someone who didn’t deserve it. He so desperately wanted to be in control.

  He stood in the rain, his vest soaking it up like a sponge. Half a block down, two dancing martini glasses in pink and green neon shone through the wet afternoon: a lighthouse in a stormy sea. Its promise of numbness called to him, but he shook it off.

  The last thing he needed was to drown in a bottle while his family waited to be found.

  A wave of hopelessness swept over him and he felt the same fatigue that had driven Zack to bed. It wrapped around his shoulders like a coarse blanket, growing heavier by the second as the rain pounded down.

  96

  Detective Hogan hung his wet jacket beside his partner’s slicker and sat down at his desk. Unlike Preston, Hogan liked to keep his desk neat and orderly, with everything from reports to memos having their own place or in-box.

  Because of this, he immediately spotted the new sheet of blue paper that waited in his memo box. The same memo on Preston’s desk could sprout leaves before he noticed.

  Preston approached and handed him a cup of black coffee. ‘Last of the pot. Be warned.’

  Hogan took a tentative sip and shuddered. ‘It tastes the same as a fresh pot.’

  ‘Damn, I was hoping it would mellow with age.’ Preston noticed the memo. ‘That about our camera?’

  Hogan nodded as he took another sip of coffee and read over the slim report.

  ‘Components are mostly Taiwanese.’ He flipped the page. ‘But it was assembled and sold in Russia.’

  ‘Boxy but good, comrade,’ Preston said in a remarkably good Russian accent.

  ‘Our techs also say this model was never available for export.’

  ‘Which means?’ Preston asked.

  ‘Whoever owns it either bought it while visiting Russia or had Russian friends ship it over.’

  ‘That narrows it down. How many Russians in Portland?’

  ‘More to the point,’ Hogan added, ‘who has Russian friends and also needed some leverage on Mr White?’

  ‘The mall robbery?’

  ‘Calico suspects the contents of the mall were hauled directly to the docks and shipped to Russia. She’s been checking the yards for details on outgoing vessels.’

  ‘She have a local organizer in mind?’

  Hogan nodded and turned to his computer. ‘She had two candidates . . .’

  The first set of records appeared on screen and as his eyes reached the name at the top, Hogan’s mouth broke out in a grin.

  ‘Got him.’

  97

  Sam returned to the dry cleaner’s, his anger buried in a dumpster of self-pity, and slumped on a vinyl chair in the corner.

  As he waited for Zack’s suit, hi
s cellphone rang. He snapped it open.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘You have the money, Sam?’ asked the altered voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All one million?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sam paused. ‘Do you still want it?’

  ‘Of course I do. It’s good to have friends, isn’t it, Sam?’

  Sam didn’t know how to answer.

  ‘We’ll meet tonight,’ continued the voice. ‘I’ll call later with instructions.’

  ‘Will my family be there?’ Sam knew the question was expected of him even if he could no longer trust the answer.

  ‘Yes. You will see your family again. Very soon.’

  ‘Can I talk to them?’ Sam blurted. ‘Can I talk to Hannah?’

  ‘Don’t push me, Sam.’

  The sudden menace in the distorted voice lifted Sam out of the darkness and filled him with such burning rage that it forced its way out from between clenched teeth. ‘Why are you doing this? What could I possibly have done that was so goddamn awful you had to involve my family?’

  The store clerk looked up at Sam’s tone and quickly vanished into the back room.

  The caller’s response was not immediate, but Sam could hear him breathing. Then the line hissed with static and, ‘Everything was so fucking easy for you.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Sam sputtered. ‘Have you seen my life?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have come back.’

  ‘I came back because I failed.’ Sam gripped the phone so tightly he could hear its plastic shell creak. ‘I failed to make my mark. I blew it. To have a dream that can’t be fulfilled is a fucking curse. Ask Hannah. She’s had to live with my sorry ass when all I could get was rejection and crappy—’

  The phone squawked sharply. ‘You know nothing of rejection, of suffering, of—’

  Sam snorted. ‘Well, that’s a crock—’

  ‘Tonight,’ interrupted the voice sternly. ‘Bring Parker.’

  The line went dead.

  Sam shook Zack awake.