Pied Piper

CHAPTER 59

The phone records provided by Broole produced immediate results and instantly clarified Vincent Chevalier’s role. They also necessitated Daphne requesting a rain check for her dinner with Broole: She was heading out of town.

Awaiting his flight’s boarding call, Boldt told her for the third time, “I’ll call your cellular at eight o’clock Eastern, your batteries okay?”

She nodded. “You know the drill? Go easy with them, Lou. It’s doubtful they know the extent of what they’re involved in. If they go crying foul to Chevalier-”

“Got it,” he said brusquely, checking the overhead clock. It was her plan, not his. A part of Boldt resented that. But true to form, she had come up with something brilliant.

“There are moments in one’s life that are never forgotten,” she warned. “Weddings, deaths, traffic accidents. The space shuttle blowing up. Kennedy. Lady Di. Your visit to the Brehmers is one of those moments. Mine too, with the Hudsons. This evening their lives change forever. Remember that.”

“All our lives have changed forever,” Boldt reminded stoically. “Every moment-every decision-is one of those moments you’re talking about.”

“They’ll never forget our visits. We are walking into their living rooms and detonating a bomb. Go easy on them.”

“Message received.”

His flight was called. He glanced toward the developing line at the gate, back to the clock and finally to Daphne. They shared an awkward moment, not knowing how to part. They shook hands. Boldt felt right about that.

“Eight o’clock,” he repeated. He walked to the gate carrying only a briefcase.

Amelia and Morgan Hudson owned a sprawling horse farm on the outskirts of Lexington, Kentucky. Surrounded by a whitewashed board fence, acres of manicured bluegrass corrals interconnected like a patchwork quilt. With it too dark to see, Daphne imagined the ill-tempered stallions kicking and bucking, the complacent mare and foal pairs meandering the fence lines. She had been raised on a farm not unlike this one. Her parents lived not two hours away.

Having headed straight to the Hudson residence from the airport, she turned the rental down the long drive, recalling a dozen memories from her childhood.

The enormous brick house ran off in a variety of directions. A white-faced Negro riding a black horse in an English saddle welcomed visitors with an electric lantern held out to the side.

Chevalier’s office and cellular phones carried a series of long distance calls to the Hudson household leading up to the date of the Shotz kidnapping. The day of the kidnapping, three separate calls had been placed. A week later, the calls suddenly stopped. Chevalier never called the couple again. Daphne knew what she would find inside-who she would find, though it did nothing to instill confidence in her. Her assignment was simple confirmation. Boldt had the more difficult task.

She dragged her briefcase heavily toward her. She had lied to the Hudsons three hours earlier in a call from the New Orleans airport. Now she had to reveal that lie and undo others. She double-checked that her weapon, concealed inside her purse, was loaded and working properly. She had no idea what kind of people she faced.