Tonight I Said Goodbye

CHAPTER 24

WE DROVE to my apartment. As soon as I turned onto the avenue I felt good. I was home now, and things were wrapping up nicely. Julie was still going to run, though. That thought spoiled my mood.

I didn’t go inside the apartment but transferred my things out of the Contour and into the truck. I was damn sick of that little car. Once I’d made the vehicle switch, we went to the office. I found Sellers’s phone number, then gave him a call. He remembered me, and when I told him what I had to offer I thought he was going to have a stroke. He promised to have Laura Winters call me back immediately. She was the prosecutor who’d handled several other cases with the Russian mob in town, and Sellers said she’d probably be salivating at the thought of taking on Jeremiah Hubbard as well. True to Sellers’s word, Winters called within minutes. I ran through things again with her, and I was impressed by the way she kept silent and let me get through the story without shouting at me for failing to contact authorities sooner, as Sellers had done.

“Well, Mr. Perry, this is real big,” she said. “How soon can you have Mrs. Weston here?”

“This afternoon.”

“All right. I want to see her here at one, and I want you and your partner here, too. From what I’ve heard, the police are trying to locate you, but I’m not going to bring that into play yet, because I don’t want this place turning into a circus before I have a chance to sit down with Mrs. Weston.” Her voice had a nice hard edge to it. She sounded like a woman who probably did some serious ass-kicking in court.

“Thanks,” I said. I knew she wasn’t going to like what I had to say next, but it was probably better to prepare her over the phone, before I was within slapping range. “One other thing, Ms. Winters—a reporter for the Journal already has this story. She’s probably going to want to run it tomorrow.”

For a while there was just static in my ear. “Mr. Perry,” she said eventually, “you’re going to be a colossal pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

I was smiling, but only because she couldn’t see me. “I hope not, ma’am. But I know this isn’t a real good start. Just remember that I am bringing you Julie Weston and the tape. That should help a little, shouldn’t it?”

“It should, but that’s no guarantee it will. I’ll see you at one.” She hung up on me.

Joe looked at me. “Good to go?”

“She wants us there at one.”

I drove us back to the cottage. Amy had joined Julie, Betsy, and John now. I told them about our visit to Belov, and I told Amy that she couldn’t consider including such information in the article. She said she understood, and I believed her. I trusted Amy as I trusted few others, which was what Julie had noticed the night before.

The mood at the cottage was light, but I didn’t share it. I was tense, as I had been when I woke up in the morning reaching for my gun. Belov hadn’t provided me with enough comfort. Krashakov and the rest of them were still out there, and they’d found us once before.

While the rest of us passed time inside, Joe took Betsy outside to play. I was amazed by how taken he was with the girl. As long as I’d known Joe, he’d never had a particular affinity for children.

“Are you ready to meet with Winters?” I asked Julie while we ate.

She finished chewing and frowned, then nodded. “Yes. I think I am. I guess I’ll have to be.”

John reached over and patted her hand. “You’ll be fine.”

I was about to say more when Joe stepped through the door, grim faced.

“Mrs. Weston, come here, please.”

Julie saw something in his face that scared her, and she dropped her sandwich back onto her plate and said, “What is it? What’s wrong?” A mother’s instinct telling her something Joe’s words hadn’t.

“We’ve been playing hide-and-seek,” Joe said. “I can’t find her, and she won’t answer my calls.”

I was out of my chair even before Julie moved, my hand reflexively creeping toward my gun. This was it, I thought. That bad feeling I hadn’t been able to shake was well founded, after all. The Russians had come, and they had Betsy.

Joe put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back as I moved for the door.

“Relax, LP. The kid’s just hiding. I’ve been outside the whole time, and nobody’s here.”

“Let’s find her, then.”

We all went out on the deck, with me leading the way. Julie shouted Betsy’s name while I scanned the woods, looking for a trace of movement, my hand still hugging my hip, ready to reach for the gun.

“Elizabeth Ann Weston, you come here this minute!” Julie shouted, and her voice went up in pitch at the end, a note of panic there.

We stood clustered together on the deck, listening for a response. A cold silence mocked us.

“Shit,” I said, starting down the steps. “They’re here.”

“Wait,” Amy said, grabbing my arm. “Listen.”

We all froze again and listened, and this time I heard it, too. A faint voice coming from one end of the cottage.

We hurried around the corner of the cottage, John Weston limping along behind, swearing profusely about his failing legs. At the far end of the cottage Betsy’s voice was louder.

“I’m stuck,” she was yelling.

“She’s in here,” Joe said, dropping to one knee beside the wall. “It’s some sort of crawl space.” He pulled on a short, square wooden panel at the base of the wall. It didn’t move. He grunted and wrapped his fingers around the edge, then gave it a mighty heave. The panel came loose, exposing a dark, dank crawl space beneath the cottage—and the cute little girl with the frightened face inside.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes beginning to well with tears as she saw the concern in our faces, “I got stuck. I pulled the door back so he couldn’t see me, and it stuck.” The tears began to flow freely then, and Joe took her under the arms and lifted her out gently, handing her to Julie. Julie stroked the girl’s hair and whispered softly in her ear, but she held her in an unusually tight grip, the way you might hold something dear to you that had been salvaged from the ruins of a fire.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. Amy caught my eye and grinned, and I shook my head and laughed at myself. The adrenaline rush I’d just felt had matched anything I’d experienced in South Carolina.

“It’s a hell ofa hiding spot, I’ve got to give her that,” Joe said, peering into the crawl space. “And I’m stunned she went inside. Most girls her age wouldn’t go in there without a flashlight for all the candy in the world.”

There was no more hide-and-seek. We stayed inside the cottage and made small talk or sat in silence. Betsy gave up her crying spell quickly, and we adults tried to downplay the scare she’d given us. Without giving it conscious thought, I found myself rising every few minutes to stand at the window and scan the tree line. During the few minutes Betsy had been missing, I’d been sure the Russians had arrived. Now she was back, but I still hadn’t lost the feeling. After a while, Joe tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to join him on the deck.

“What’s up?” I said when he’d slid the door closed behind us.

“We’re going to see Winters in a couple hours. The girl doesn’t need to be dragged along for that, and neither does John. Winters asked for us and Julie, and that’s who should show up. The more people we bring, the more chaotic things get, and I don’t want that.”

“So?”

“So I’m not real comfortable leaving John and the girl here alone again.” Betsy’s brief disappearance had rattled him, too.

I nodded. “Me neither. I’ve had a bad feeling ever since she got stuck in that crawl space. Julie isn’t going to want cops here yet, though.”

“I know. That’s why I think we should call Kinkaid.”

I frowned. “Julie’s got enough on her mind today as it is, Joe.”

“Julie won’t deal with him, then,” he said. “You can take her out ahead of time, and I’ll wait for Kinkaid to show. We need somebody here, LP, and he’s the guy for the job. But if you don’t want him here, we can leave the girl with a seventy-year-old man for protection.” He shrugged. “It’s your call.”

I gazed in the window at Betsy and John Weston, thought about Krashakov and Rakic, and nodded again. “Call him.”

Joe used his cell phone and called from the deck. I listened while he gave Kinkaid directions, and I remembered Julie’s explanation of their history to me. A silly drunken advance that was quickly forgotten, she’d said. Not so quickly forgotten for Aaron Kinkaid. I knew how badly he wanted to see her again, and I almost felt guilty for sneaking her out before he arrived. Not too guilty, though.

“You didn’t tell him Betsy will be here,” I said when Joe hung up.

He shook his head. “I’ll tell him when he gets here. I didn’t want to have to explain how Julie’s here now but going to be gone when he arrives. It seems a little shitty.”

“He’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah.”

Julie and I left not long after that. John Weston gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then sat back down on the couch, his eyes never leaving his granddaughter. Joe lingered, waiting on Kinkaid, and Amy left to get started on her story. While I drove, I told Julie that Kinkaid was coming to keep an eye on things at the cottage.

“He hasn’t really convinced himself that he’s in love with me, has he?” she said.

“He’s doing a fine job of pretending, if nothing else.”

“Ugh. How awful. Will he be there when we come back?”

“Yes. Is that bad?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I drove downtown slowly to give Joe time to catch up with us. I didn’t like the idea of leaving my gun behind, but I couldn’t get it past the metal detectors at the prosecutor’s office, so I locked it in the truck’s center console, and we walked inside the building and waited on Joe. We waited for fifteen minutes, but he didn’t show. Maybe Kinkaid had been slowed up. Maybe something had happened. I was starting to grow worried when Joe finally came jogging up the steps and into the building.

“Sorry,” he said as we walked to Winters’s office. “Kinkaid wanted more of an explanation than I had time to give. He’ll want still more when we get back.”

The door to the office opened before I could respond, and a woman stepped into the hall. She was nearing fifty but still an attractive woman, with strong, firm features and auburn hair. She looked at us, her gaze lingering on Julie a bit longer than Joe or me, and then forced a tight smile.

“What a treat,” she said. “And I was planning on going home early today. Which one of you is Lincoln Perry?”

“I am.” I shook hands with her.

“Here’s how we’re going to do this,” she said. “I’m not going to talk to all of you at once. We’ll go one at a time, and because you called me, you’ll go first, Mr. Perry. Mrs. Weston and Mr. Pritchard can wait.” She held the door open, and Joe and Julie sat in chairs in the outer office while I followed Winters into a small conference room. She closed the door, sat behind the desk, and clasped her hands together.

“I need to have some idea of what I can expect to hear from this woman,” she said. “And I’ve picked you to give me that idea, because you picked me to dump this shit storm on.”

I gave her the rough summary. While I talked, she listened and kept her mouth shut, which impressed me. Rare is the attorney who can handle listening and keeping her mouth shut.

“What a mess,” she said when I was done. “Mrs. Weston has this tape with her?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but it may be too late to get any convictions with it.”

“Why is that?”

“If Dainius Belov found out who killed his son, they might have been dealt with in less formal proceedings.”

She looked at me carefully. “Is there any reason to believe he has found out who killed his son?”

I shrugged. “It’s the mob, Ms. Winters. They turn on each other easily.”

“Uh-huh.” She tapped her foot on the floor and stared at me. “You know what I wish when I look at you?”

“That you were twenty years younger and single?”

A slight smile crossed her face, and she sighed and shook her head. “I wish that I could believe you’re going to tell me even half of what you really know. Now, let’s ask Mrs. Weston to join us. I’ll leave your partner waiting in the wings for now. There are some others who are also anxious to speak with you and Mrs. Weston.”

“You want me to go?”

“No, I’ve changed my mind. You’ll stay for now, because I’m far from finished with you. I’m afraid you have no idea what you’re in for, Mr. Perry,” she said, opening the door to get Julie.

“No?” I said.

“I’m one of the last tough, old-fashioned broads,” she said.

“I see.”

She turned on her heel. “Or maybe I should say, a hard-core bitch.”

I had to laugh. “It’s going to be a long afternoon, isn’t it?”

“With this mess?” she said. “You’re dreaming if you think we’re going to wrap it up in an afternoon.”

Swanders arrived, along with another prosecutor and one of the higher-ups from the FBI. He was a small, quiet man who didn’t say much, but his face darkened considerably when I told him what I suspected of Agent Thaddeus Cody. Swanders avoided eye contact with me for most of the meeting. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or embarrassed that he’d been so clueless about so much. Probably those two emotions went hand in hand.

When they were done with Julie and me, Winters opened the door to call in Joe. I felt bad for him; it had to have been a long, tedious wait. Once Joe was inside, Winters stepped back into the lobby and asked Julie where Betsy was.

“She’s with her grandfather,” Julie said. “Someplace safe.”

“Mrs. Weston, I simply cannot have that. I cannot have either of you in an undisclosed location, and I’m afraid I must provide you with police security for the time being. I’m going to have to request that you stay in a hotel here in the city where we can see you have adequate protection.”

“That’s fine,” Julie said, as if she had absolutely no problem trusting her safety to the police. I tried not to stare at her.

“Now, if you’ll tell me where your daughter is, I’ll have an officer dispatched to pick her up and bring her here.”

Julie frowned. “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t like that idea. The upcoming days are going to be very hard on my daughter, and I don’t need them to begin with a police officer taking her away from her grandfather. If you want us to stay at a hotel, let Lincoln drive me back to get my daughter and bring her in myself.”

Winters didn’t like it, but she didn’t fight it. “I want her brought to the Marriott by the airport as soon as possible,” she told me. “We’ll have officers waiting there, and they’ll have a room ready for you. When you’re settled in, we’ll talk again.”

“Should we wait on Joe?” I asked.

Winters rolled her eyes. “I know he’s your partner, Perry, but I think you can handle playing taxi without him. Go get the girl and bring them both to the Marriott. I’ll keep your partner safe.”

“If it’s just going to be the two of you in there, at the very least, let me leave him an extra gun.”

“Go get the girl, Mr. Perry.” She stepped back into the conference room and closed the door.

I drove Julie back to the cottage. On the way, she asked for more details about our meeting with Belov. I told her only that he’d promised to see that she and Betsy weren’t harmed. I did not discuss the methods Belov would likely use to ensure their safety.

“Did you get a chance to talk to John without Betsy around?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And does he know you’re planning to leave?”

“Yes.”

I glanced away from the highway and looked at her. “And when are you planning to leave, Julie?”

“Tomorrow.”

I put my eyes back on the road. “I see.”

We were silent then until we returned to the cottage. I parked behind Kinkaid’s car, and as I shut the truck off he stepped onto the deck and waved. I turned to Julie.

“He’s going to want to talk to you,” I said. “And I’m going to give him space to do it. Make it quick, though, because we need to get you and Betsy back into the city before Winters sends out a search party.”

“All right.”

“Lincoln, good to see you, man,” Kinkaid said when we walked into the cottage. He gave me a hearty handshake, but his eyes were locked on Julie. “I was pissed with you and Pritchard at first, because you guys were cutting me out of the loop, but now that I understand what’s been going on, I don’t give a damn about any of that.”

“Hello, Aaron,” Julie said. Betsy jumped off the couch and ran to give her mother a hug. She made a wide circle around Kinkaid.

“Hi, Julie. I’m sure glad to see you,” Kinkaid said, sounding like an awkward teenager on a first date. His freckled face was flushed.

I cleared my throat and looked at John Weston, who was sitting on the couch. “John, can I see you outside for a minute?”

He followed me out. I didn’t want to leave Julie alone with Kinkaid, but I was even less interested in hanging around to listen to him gush about his feelings for her, which would surely begin soon enough. I told John about our interview with Winters and her request that Julie and Betsy stay at a hotel under police watch.

“That’s probably a good choice,” he said, averting his eyes. He didn’t say anything about Julie’s planned departure, and I didn’t, either.

“Well, son, I’m old and I’m tired,” he said. “If you’re going to take them back into the city, I’m going to go home. Have Julie call me from the hotel, would you? I’ll see them again tomorrow.”

I told him I would, and he shook my hand and limped off to his Buick. I didn’t want to go back in the house and deal with Kinkaid and Julie yet, so I climbed in my truck and began sorting aimlessly through the things I’d taken from the Contour and dumped into the back of the cab.

A manila folder was lying on the floor where I’d tossed it. Hartwick’s personnel file. I still hadn’t looked at it. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. There was no real need to research his background now, but I had it, and I was trying to kill time. I got to the page of references from his employee application and stopped, my eyes locked on the third name.

“I knew there was a reason not to trust you, asshole,” I said aloud. The third name on Randy Hartwick’s list of references was Aaron Kinkaid. Even more interesting was Kinkaid’s job title at the time of the nearly decade-old application: chief of security, Richard Douglass and Associates. Kinkaid had worked for Jeremiah Hubbard’s attorney.

I walked up on the deck and looked inside. Kinkaid was standing in the kitchen, talking to Julie, while Betsy sat at the table. I stood there for a while, watching them, wondering about what he knew and how long he’d known it. It was time for—as Randy Hartwick had suggested with his last breath—a little answer-sharing. I didn’t realize until I reached for the door that my hands were clenched into fists.

“Hey, Aaron,” I said as I stepped inside, “I hate to interrupt, but I’ve got a few things I need to explain to you. You mind?”

“Hell, no, man. You’re the boss.” He followed me into one of the little bedrooms. When we were alone, his face opened in a wide smile and he slapped me on the shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Perry. Pritchard and I were a little concerned about you while you were down south.”

I smiled back at him and hit him once in the jaw with a stiff left jab. It backed him up and jarred him, but he got his hands up to protect his face. I kicked him in the groin, then caught him behind the ear with a hard right as he dropped. He landed on all fours, then went down on the floor and curled up, gasping for breath. I pulled Hartwick’s personnel file from my jacket and threw it on the floor beside his face.

“Chief of security for Richard Douglass and Associates, eh? That’s real nice, Kinkaid. You told us you never met Jeremiah Hubbard. I find that a little harder to believe now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezed. He was sliding his left hand under his shirt. I kicked him in the stomach, then reached inside his shirt and removed the snubnose .32 he had in a shoulder holster. Apparently he’d left the Colt Python home for something a little more discreet today. I threw the gun across the room, pulled him into a sitting position, and slapped him hard in the face. I didn’t want to make enough noise to alarm Julie and Betsy, but I was going to get some answers from Kinkaid.

“Tell me the truth, you son of a bitch,” I said, jamming my thumb into a pressure point near his collarbone and making him writhe in pain. “You told the Russians I was in South Carolina, didn’t you?”

“No,” he said, trying to shake his head while twisting out of my grasp.

“Aaron,” I said, “the game is over. Tell me the truth.”

“All right,” he said, sagging back against the wall. “All right.”