Shoot from the Lip

26

My hands were shaking when I called Jeff this time. “I’m e-mailing you a picture of a woman standing in the front entrance to her house. Please show it to Loreen and tell me if she recognizes her. I’ll be waiting.”

“Abby, what’s happened?”

“I’ll explain after she looks at the picture and you call me back, okay?”

“I’ll be online in a sec. Take it easy. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

He hung up, and all I could do was walk in circles, matching the swirl in my brain with my feet. Harrison Foster didn’t scam my sister to get her money. He scammed her to get close to an investigation that threatened to open up his ugly box of secrets. Took advantage of her so he could hang around and put tracking devices on my car, show up anywhere I went as I followed the clues. Hell, I’ll bet he even pumped Kate for information, and did it all with his dimpled, guileless smile.

He probably couldn’t get to Emma’s house fast enough once the TV stations and radio news programs had broadcast their breaking story about city workers finding baby bones under a demolished house. The photo of Emma and me had appeared in the Chronicle the next day, and Harrison Foster was in business. When he searched the Internet and learned I had a sister, he must have felt like he hit the jackpot.

But the only real proof was a photo of a girl who looked like Shannon. What if Loreen didn’t recognize Beth Foster as the pregnant woman she and Christine had cleaned for? What did I have then? Jeff, come on. Call me back.

And then I remembered the notebook. Had White found it, or had Emma tossed it? I grabbed my purse and fumbled through all the useless things I insist on carrying around until I found Don White’s crumpled card, the one he’d given me the night Jerry Joe Billings had been murdered.

I called his cell, and he answered right away with a brusque, “White here.”

“It’s Abby,” I said. “Did Emma let you look in the storage unit for the notebook?”

“What’s going on, Abby? You sound in a panic.”

“I am. The notebook?”

“I’m looking at it, so you can cool your jets. Checking out all these names might take us-”

“There are names?”

“Oh, yeah. But like I said-”

“Can you look for one name in particular?”

“Sure. But what have you got?”

“I think a man named Harrison Foster might be who we’re looking for. Can you check and see if he or his wife, Beth Foster, was a client of Christine’s?”

“Sure, but how’d you find this out, Abby?” he asked.

I wanted to scream at him to shut up and just do what I asked, but I managed to say calmly, “Please, Don. Look for the name first. It’s important.”

What seemed a decade later he said, “It’s here. She cleaned for a Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Foster on Wednesdays.”

There it was. Proof. And I suddenly wanted to throw up.

“Tell me what’s going on, Abby.”

“This man almost killed my aunt this morning. He’s been dating my sister to get close to us. You need to find him. Now.” I gave White the addresses from the PI report, and he said he was on it.

I hung up and the other phone rang. The landline. The caller ID read HEWITT BANK AND TRUST, where we have our CompuCan accounts-the computer business that Daddy left us. What the hell did they want? I couldn’t deal with company business right now. But when the answering machine offered the caller a chance to leave a message, I heard a voice I recognized. “This is Jane Edgar from Hewitt Bank and Trust. It is urgent that I speak with Abigail Rose immediately concerning-”

I snatched up the phone, knowing that Jane Edgar wouldn’t use the word urgent if she didn’t mean it. “This is Abby. What is it, Jane?”

“This concerns a transfer of funds, Abby. Can you please verify your address?”

“Transfer of funds? Verify my address?” I said, confused.

“I must verify-”

“You know me. You know where I live. What’s this about?”

“I have to go through standard procedure on this, check your passwords, everything. You’ll understand soon enough. Please, let’s go through the steps so I can document that I followed bank protocol.”

I gave her what she wanted, even had to bring up my accounts online and look for a specific account number.

When I was finished with her “standard procedure,” Jane said, “We have a request to transfer five hundred thousand dollars from the joint account you share with your sister, Katherine Rose. It’s to go to a numbered account in the Cayman Islands. As per this account agreement, we must have your authorization to do this for any amount over ten thousand dollars.”

I couldn’t speak. I felt like I was listening to a radio not tuned in to any station, one just giving off static.

“Abby? Are you there?”

“Um… can I check into this and get back to you? Meanwhile, don’t move any money, okay?”

“I think that’s wise,” she said solemnly. “Please ask for me when you call back.” She disconnected.

I slowly replaced the handset in its cradle. I felt like I was drowning, struggling in a current that threatened to suck me under. There was only one reason Kate would need that kind of money.

Foster. He had her.

And she’d done the one thing she could to send me a message. Rather than transfer money from any of her private accounts, she chose the business account, knowing the bank would call me.

Yes. He had her. But where? How could I find her? What would happen if I didn’t okay the money transfer? What would happen if I did?

A cold sweat dampened my forehead, and I tasted blood. I’d bitten my bottom lip without even feeling any pain.

My cell rang, and I started before I grabbed it up. Jeff.

Before he could say a word, I said, “He has her. Foster has Kate, and we have to find her before it’s too late. But I don’t know how to find her and-”

“Hold on, hon. Slow down and explain.”

I did, but the words came out as a halting, jumbled mess, and I thought I’d have to say everything all over again, but Jeff got it.

“Okay, I understand. We’re going to find Kate. Right now, you need to take a few deep breaths-get some oxygen to that very fine brain of yours so we can work on this together.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled, but when I exhaled, the release of air was shaky, and my jaw quivered. “What in hell do we do, Jeff?”

“I’m calling this in to SWAT as a possible hostage situation. The report you sent me has enough information about Foster to offer plenty of leads. Loreen recognized the woman in the picture as the pregnant client she and Christine cleaned for. Must be Foster’s wife. She’s probably in on this, knows the kid she’s been raising isn’t her biological child. We’ll have to get someone out to her house.”

“Could Kate be there?”

“It’s possible.”

“Can I go? I won’t get in the way. I just need-”

“What you need to do is sit tight. If Foster can’t get his money through Kate, if he figures out she’s alerted you, he may call you for ransom.”

“He’s trying to get away, isn’t he? And that means he wouldn’t need to… to harm her. He could take the money and go away and Kate could come home. Can we make that happen, Jeff?”

“Abby, do not okay that transfer. For now, he may be unaware there’s a problem with the account, and we can catch him off guard.”

“Catch him off guard where? I mean, what if he’s not at his house? What if she was forced to get the money another way or he got angry with her and-”

“Please, hon. Don’t do this to yourself. We will find her. But I need to make a few calls to set things in motion. DeShay and White will probably come to your house, perhaps bring a SWAT commander.”

“I already talked to White and asked him to look for Foster. He found the notebook, and Foster’s name was there.”

“Good. Try to stay calm. I wish I could be there, too, but I can’t leave Doris. Bringing her along wouldn’t-”

I heard Loreen in the background say, “Go. Doris and I have girl things to do, and we don’t need you around watching us.”

A short silence followed, and then Jeff said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I closed my eyes and felt tears coming. I managed to mumble, “Thank you,” before ending the call.

Webster’s head rested on my feet, and he looked up at me with questioning eyes. “She’s coming home, buddy. I promise you.”

And then I couldn’t hold back any longer. Good thing I was done with my cry by the time Don White and DeShay arrived. I sure didn’t want to come across as a basket case, too emotional to help find my sister.

We’d gone into the kitchen because I needed water, hoping to somehow swallow the lump in my throat. The three of us remained standing there to talk-standing because you didn’t sit around in easy chairs when someone you loved was in trouble.

I said, “If that bastard has broken even one of my sister’s fingernails he’s going to pay.”

“SWAT is on standby,” White said. “They can’t roll until we know where they need to go. An unmarked unit is checking out the Fosters’ house, and another squad is looking at Foster’s apartment.”

“Foster stole the PI report,” I said. “He’s probably figured out at least a few cops know where he lives. I doubt he’ll go to either place. But… Oh, my God. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Kate’s office. He could be-”

“We stopped at her building on the way here,” DeShay said. “The receptionist was busy canceling patients. Said Kate was a no-show after lunch.”

“And April never called me? What’s wrong with her?” I had to direct my anger somewhere, and Kate’s receptionist, whom I hardly knew, seemed as good a candidate as anyone.

White answered, “She says she’s new. Says she thought maybe Kate had an emergency. The young woman felt like the doc would want her to cancel the patients. That was her priority.”

“She was pretty upset when we showed up, Abby.” DeShay’s voice was calm.

But I was not calm. I was angry with myself for not even thinking about Kate’s office earlier. That was where Foster must have gone after he ran from Aunt Caroline’s. He’d certainly hung around there long enough to know Kate’s routine. I started pacing in front of the refrigerator. “I feel so helpless. Isn’t there something else we can do?”

“The bank’s cooperating, and we’ve tapped a line in case Kate calls in. We also have a tech investigator monitoring the computer there if she tries another online transaction.”

“She attempted the transfer online?” I said.

“Right,” DeShay said.

“Bank Web sites are very secure,” I said. “Your tech guy can get the e-mail address she used to access the account and-”

“He’s working on it, Abby. You need-”

Jeff came in the back door and interrupted the rest of what DeShay had to say-probably something on the order of, Stay out of this. But I wasn’t staying out of anything.

White and Jeff shook hands, and White said, “Good to see you back.”

Jeff and DeShay did this masculine half embrace, followed by what I assumed was their own special handshake, and DeShay said, “We need you on this one, man.”

Jeff was ready, too. He wore his holstered gun and had his walkie-talkie and badge on his belt. No words were necessary to convey what Jeff and I were both feeling. I saw a little fear in his eyes before he hugged me, but also the steely resolve I had come to know when it came to his work. He gripped my arms. “How you holding up?”

“Waiting around for something to happen is making me crazy. I feel like someone poured battery acid into my gut.” I gnawed on my thumbnail rather than cry again. No more tears. They wouldn’t get Kate back.

“Give me your cell phone,” Jeff said.

I pulled it from my jeans pocket. “Why?”

He held up what looked like a small battery. “I stopped at the bank, picked this up from our tech investigator. It will make it easier to triangulate any calls that come in, find the caller’s location quicker.” He attached the little button near the antenna.

“You think Foster will call?” I said.

“I’m counting on it. You all charged up?”

“Yes. But what if he doesn’t call? What if he gets impatient and-”

“This guy needs to get out of town in a bad way, Abby. He needs that money. When he calls, you know what to do. TV is right about a few things, and you should keep him on the line as long as possible.”

Just then DeShay’s cell rang and the noise made my heart skip. I must have jumped, because Jeff put an arm around me. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re on this.”

I watched DeShay’s face while he listened to the caller, hoping I’d see relief in his eyes, but he gave away nothing. When he finished the call, he said, “No luck with the wife. Her house was clear, and she said she hasn’t seen Foster since last Saturday. She was pretty freaked out, asking all kinds of questions. The officer told her Foster had missed paying a few speeding tickets, but he didn’t think she was buying it.”

“Where the hell do you take someone you’ve kidnapped?” I asked. I started pacing again, thinking out loud. “With cell phones, there’s no need for a landline, but if Kate accessed the Internet, there has to be Internet availability where she is. Foster would need a computer to make sure he got his money transferred to the right place.”

“Keep talking. This is good stuff,” Jeff said. “Would he need a phone line? Or what?”

“A laptop with integrated wireless would do the trick-and that means he’d have to be somewhere he could pick up a signal.” For the first time in an hour, I felt like I could string a few logical thoughts together.

“What? Like an Internet café or a Starbucks?” White asked. “Hard to work with a hostage to get your money in one of those places.”

“These days you can pick up a signal in plenty of locations,” I said, “and if Foster knows anything about computers he could-”

“He’s a software designer,” DeShay said.

“That’s right. Then he knows plenty,” I said. “He could steal the signal and log on. Best place to do that is in residential areas. Coffee shops and other businesses require a security key to tap into their wireless networks, and though you could hack through, that would take longer.”

“Okay, where do people have wireless networks like this?” White asked.

Jeff said, “Upper-middle-class and wealthy neighborhoods are more likely to be equipped with that kind of technology in their homes, right, Abby?”

“Yes,” I said. “When people set up wireless networks at home, they often aren’t adequately secured. A computer with wireless capability could pick up and use their signal.”

White nodded. “I get it. You’re saying people set up home networks themselves and don’t realize someone in the house a few doors down could steal their signal and surf the Net all day and night-and this turd would know that.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Can that information narrow down your-Wait a minute.” An image flashed through my mind-Kate, Emma, Foster and me, standing in Kate’s new house.

“What is it?” Jeff asked.

“Kate just bought a house not far from here. I’ll bet there are home networks up and down that street.” Being able to contribute to the search was helping to quell the fear that had threatened to shut me down. But I still felt like I had a dancing bobber in my stomach.

“Let’s get a unit to check out the house,” DeShay said. “Where is this place?”

I started to speak and then stopped. “Damn. I don’t know the street or the house number. I’ll call Emma. She sold Kate the house.”

“Do it,” Jeff said.

But I couldn’t reach her. Her voice mail message said she was showing properties and would get back to the caller as soon as possible. I left a message telling her I had an urgent situation and needed her help. Then I called the real estate office, but no one answered there. “Now what?” I said to Jeff.

“We invite the West U police to help us,” he answered. “You told me the other day the house is in West U, right?”

I nodded. “I can get their number.”

White said, “Don’t bother. Dispatch can patch me through.” He unclipped his phone. “But this is a long shot, you know. Tell me who Emma works for.”

“Green Tree Realtors. The ‘For Sale’ sign may still be up.” I gave him the approximate location and a description of the house. Knowing the West U police, they could find the place even with that small amount of information.

While White was talking to the our local police, my landline rang.

Nothing had been done to trace calls on this phone yet, but it didn’t matter. The caller ID displayed Aunt Caroline’s number. I’d promised her I’d be back and hadn’t even phoned.

I picked up before the answering machine could take over, knowing I couldn’t tell her over the phone that Kate was missing. She’d freak out. “Hi. Sorry I got tied up and didn’t get back.”

“Abigail, can you please return?” She sounded like she was crying-which never happened.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m in so much pain, and if you could help me get settled in bed, then… then you can go about your business again.”

She sounded absolutely pathetic, which was probably partly an act, but that didn’t matter. I already felt guilty for leaving her alone after what she’d gone through today.

“I’ll see what I can do, Aunt Caroline.”

“What does that mean?” she said.

“I’m thinking I’ll call your friend Martha to come over. She can help you out until I can get away.”

“Martha is in Europe. Does this mean you won’t come? You won’t help me?” But there was none of her usual indignation. She sounded like a different person. Yeah… maybe an old woman who’d been in a fight with a killer and lived to tell about it. Now I felt even guiltier.

“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. But then we’ll pack a bag. You’re staying here with me-and don’t bother arguing.” She did need to know about Kate, especially if-No, I wasn’t going to think about that. And despite Kravitz’s man on guard duty, I’d feel better having her here with Foster on the loose.

Amazingly enough, she didn’t argue. She simply said, “Thank you, Abigail,” and hung up.

I looked at Jeff, who’d been talking to DeShay. I’d heard the word trace, and I was guessing he wanted to make sure any calls to all my phones could be traced. “I have to pick up Aunt Caroline. She’s alone, she’s been hurt and I think what happened today is finally penetrating her rhinoceros hide.”

“Okay,” Jeff said. “I’m going with you.”

“No need. It’s a thirty-minute round-trip, and if you come she’ll start asking questions. I don’t want to tell her anything until I have her back here. Then she can have her meltdown.” I was talking too fast, sounding a little too frantic.

Jeff gripped my shoulders. “Think about it. What if Kate calls your cell and none of us is with you? What will you do?”

I put a hand to my forehead. Closed my eyes. Why couldn’t I think straight?

“We will get her back, Abby, but you need to keep focused on that goal. Now, let’s pick up your aunt Caroline.”

“But what if the bank calls? Won’t I need to talk to them?”

“White or DeShay can handle that. They know we’re on this, and anyway, you’re not releasing any funds. We have to provoke this guy out of the shadows-get him to make direct contact with you.”

“Then let’s hurry so we can get back,” I said.

We took my car, but Jeff drove. I’d left my gun on the passenger seat after my last trip to Aunt Caroline’s house, and now I held the Lady Smith in both hands. I never knew a gun could offer comfort, but it did. Yes, a gun could provide what was probably a false sense of hope when you felt powerless and out of control, like I did.

“Um… we’ve got a tail,” Jeff said. We were at a light, and his eyes were fixed on the rearview. “Use the cosmetic mirror and see if you recognize those two guys in the SUV. Right lane, two cars back.”

I did. “Damn. I think that’s Kravitz and the cameraman, Stu Crowell.”

“Obviously they were hanging around your place and saw us all arrive,” Jeff said.

“I called Kravitz to put a man outside Aunt Caroline’s house, and he must have decided I wasn’t being straight with him, even though I was at the time.”

“Losing them is pointless,” Jeff said.

I turned the gun over and over, my throat tightening even more. “You can’t make them stay out of this?” But I knew it was a stupid question, and Jeff, thank goodness, ignored it.

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d put your Lady away.” Jeff nodded at the gun.

“You don’t want a jumpy girlfriend with a loaded gun sitting next to you?”

He rested a hand on the back of my neck and rubbed at the tension residing there. “I wouldn’t put it past you to take a warning shot at those guys behind us.”

I opened the glove compartment and did what he asked. “Happy now?”

“Just looking out for you.”

I smiled, grateful that he was here with me and not in Seattle.

“Here’s the plan,” Jeff said. “We get Aunt Caroline out of her house and we don’t talk to those guys, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

Ten minutes later we parked in my aunt’s driveway, and Kravitz pulled up behind the guard’s car across the street.

But the guy who was supposed to be protecting Aunt Caroline didn’t seem to be in his car. Great protection, Kravitz, I wanted to shout when I saw him and Stu get out of their SUV. Stu hoisted his camera and pointed it at me.

Kravitz was headed toward the guard’s car.

Then, before I could take another breath, Kravitz shouted something I didn’t catch-didn’t catch because Aunt Caroline’s front door opened at the same moment.

Harrison Foster stood in the doorway-and he had a gun.

I froze.

“Get down,” Jeff yelled.

I fell to my hands and knees, but I was on the side of the car without protection. I crawled around to the back of the car, fully expecting a bullet to flatten me.

Then I heard the shot, but he must have missed.

I made it around to the driver’s side and realized he hadn’t missed.

Jeff was down.

I scrambled to him and gently turned him onto his side. He was grimacing in pain, and a crimson stain was spreading on his chest. I fought the panic threatening to take me over. I needed adrenaline, not fear, to be in charge here.

“Kravitz,” I shouted. “Call nine-one-one!”

Then I put my mouth to Jeff’s ear. “Is it bad?”

“I-I don’t think I can get up.” His words were halting, like he didn’t have enough air to speak.

Foster shouted, “Abby, look who I’ve got.”

I pried Jeff’s gun from his fingers and stood up just enough to see through the driver’s-side window. Foster held Kate in front of him. He had had a far better shot at me a few seconds ago and hadn’t taken it. He wanted his money, and probably figured out he needed my help with the account.

I’d trade myself for Kate in a minute if not for Jeff. Would he bleed to death while I got this bastard what he wanted?

My heart, already beating crazily, felt like it might come out of my chest. What did I do? Stall for time?

Foster’s arm was around Kate’s chest near her throat. Her mouth was duct-taped, and so were her hands in front of her. He held his gun to her head.

I glanced right, hoping to see Kravitz with a phone to his ear. But I couldn’t find him. Stu Crowell must have ducked for cover, too.

Foster said, “Join us, Abby. Your sister seems to have decided we need your help with something.”

Since we’d been taken by surprise, help was at the very least minutes away. But I had to call 911 now. Jeff might not have minutes.

I was about to reach in my pocket for my phone, but then I saw Crowell with his camera behind the wide trunk of the live oak in Aunt Caroline’s front yard. Then Crowell stepped out to tape the horror unfolding.

His sudden appearance distracted Foster, and his gun swung away from Kate’s head toward the camera.

This was my chance. I stood, my hands amazingly steady when I raised Jeff’s Glock with both hands. I aimed for Foster’s left shoulder and hit the mark, just as I’d hit so many bull’s-eyes with Daddy admiring every shot. Foster crumpled to the ground without firing a round.

He might still be able to use his weapon-but Kate took care of that problem by kicking the gun away. Then she put her foot on Foster’s throat.

I shouted, “Crowell, help us, for God’s sake.”

He was no more than fifty feet away and yet was willing to let Jeff bleed out so he could capture the drama on tape.

Jeff’s eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. I pressed a hand against his chest wound and fumbled for the phone clipped to his belt. I flipped it open and started to press the number pad with my bloody thumb-God, there was so much blood-when I felt someone grip my shoulder.

I looked up and saw the investigative reporter who worked for God knew who-Mary Parsons.

“The police are coming,” she said. “Should be here any minute. And they’re sending an ambulance.”

“Thank you. Thank God.” I rested my face against Jeff’s cool cheek. My sister needed me, but I couldn’t leave him. I had to keep him warm, keep my hand tight against the hole where his life was leaking out. “My sister? Can you see her?”

Parsons, who was crouched near us, raised her head and looked through the driver’s-side window. “The man is still lying there on the grass. Your sister has her foot on his neck. And that asshole is still taping every second of this.”

The police came then. But not with sirens blaring. The SWAT team was upon us so quietly I nearly cried out in surprise.

After they assessed the scene, one of them radioed for patrol and homicide. But when I told them one of their own was down, the officer got back on the radio and said, “Where’s the fucking medics?”

The ambulance must have already been coming down the street, because it seemed like only seconds later when the paramedics pried me away from Jeff and began their work.

Then that helpless, hopeless feeling, the same one I’d had when I knew my sister was in danger, hammered down on me again.

I think I heard someone say, “Ma’am, are you all right? Have you been injured?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t speak.