Simply Lies

Chapter 53

Gibson came to slowly, and then, with a jerk of her head, she was fully awake and looking wildly around, but seeing only darkness.

She blinked when a light hit her in the eyes. She tried to shield her face but her hands wouldn’t move. They were bound to the chair she was sitting in. So were her legs.

Her heart thumping in her ears, she tugged against her bindings and said, “Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing?”

It sounded lame, like lines from a bad movie. But what else was she supposed to say?

The light dipped so it was no longer in her eyes.

“Ms. Gibson, I have some questions for you,” said a voice from the dark. “Answer them and you go free. Don’t answer them and things get complicated.”

Now, that really does sound like a shitty movie script. But it’s not, it’s real.

“Look, I don’t have to answer—”

“Your kids are in your house all alone right now. They probably wake up pretty early. You want to be there when they do, or not?”

This statement drained all the fight out of her. “What do you want to know?” she said.

“Sam Trask?”

“What about him?”

“Why did you go to meet him?”

Now she knew who had snatched her.

“And we know enough that if you try to lie, well, again, it gets complicated. I suppose your parents can take care of your children, though.”

Okay, the man was not beating around the bush.

“I was given Nathan Trask’s name to check out. And I thought I might start with his father.”

Is Nathan Trask the voice or is it one of his cronies? Am I important enough to get the big fish in person?

“By whom were you given that name to check out?”

“Someone I’ve only met online. I don’t know who they are.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“I know that, trust me. I wish I knew more.”

“Why check Trask out?”

“Because he was connected to Daniel Pottinger, the person said.”

“Daniel Pottinger aka Harry Langhorne?”

“Yes.”

“And the point of this search?”

Gibson thought quickly. Give him the truth because he probably already knows.

“Langhorne was a mob accountant turned rat from decades ago. He might have stolen enormous amounts of cash from the mob. There are people trying to find that money. And I got roped into this. If I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t be involved.”

“Have you found the money?”

“No.”

“We have done a deep dive on you, Ms. Gibson. Ex-cop, ex-detective, now a ProEye sleuth, and expert in tracking down large, hidden assets. I’d say whoever roped you in knew exactly what they were doing.”

“I’m thinking the same thing.”

“We might have a dog in this hunt. It might be that the money that is part of this search did not all come from Langhorne’s mob bosses.”

“Okay.”

“So if you find it, those amounts should come our way. With a finder’s fee to you, of course.”

This got Gibson’s attention. “How much of a fee?”

“Five percent is standard. Do we have a deal?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“People always have choices.”

From behind Gibson a garrote was slipped around her neck and pulled uncomfortably tight.

A panicked Gibson gagged and coughed out, “Deal!”

“We have ways of checking to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.”

The garrote was pulled tight one more time before being removed.

“Now what?” said Gibson hoarsely.

“Now you get back to work. For your new partner. Oh, and if you tell anyone, we’ll know that, too. So, you talk, then it won’t just be you who suffers the consequences. Son, daughter, mother, father, and two younger brothers. The Rogers/Gibson family wiped out. And we might just hunt down your ex-husband and do him, too.”

Well, Peter Gibson biting it wouldn’t be so bad, thought Gibson in her anesthetic-garbled, garrote-choked mind.

“But just so you know, patience is not a virtue. So pursue this like you’re looking at your last sixty seconds on earth. And trophies only go to winners. Losers go into the ground.”

Before Gibson could respond a hand pressed something against her face, and once more it was lights out.