Dragon Fruit Page 20

  ‘Good. In my case, you’ve made the right decision. Now, whatever it is you’re about to do, take care and God bless you.’

  I stuffed the cell in my pocket, called Dex inside and shut the door on him. The heeler protested with a series of sharp barks, but I ignored him and headed for the Camino.

  Once I was rolling, I checked the time on my cell: two nineteen.

  I told myself not to speed. No one was out at this hour but me and a few cops, and the last thing I needed was to get pulled over. I curved down El Balcon, and a minute later was traveling west on Cliff Drive.

  I tried to work it all through in my mind. I was sure Angel was right: Brill was preparing to move Rosie. Did Brill feel pressured? Sanchez had sworn he had nothing to do with any abduction. Yet somehow Brill must have been alerted.

  Babies and cops and drugs and attorneys. Darren Hartek … Steve Sanchez … and my brother. How did the lines connect?

  I jumped out of my skin when the cell jangled. I’d forgotten to dial down the volume. I pulled over at the bottom of Cliff, near Las Positas, and slammed the Camino into park.

  I saw the name on the cell. At that moment, everything else was wiped from my mind.

  It was after two a.m., and Trudy Freitas was phoning me. It could only be about Mike.

  ‘Trudy. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Mike is – Jaymie, he’s going to be OK.’

  I could tell by the sound of her voice that Mike was not OK, not at all.

  ‘Trudy, tell me. What’s happened?’

  ‘They brought him out in a helicopter.’ She began to cry. ‘I’m at Sierra Vista Hospital, and I just talked to a doctor. Jaymie, Mike was shot.’

  ‘What?’ I’d heard what she’d said. But my brain had turned to Teflon: it repelled the news. Somehow I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take it in.

  ‘You’ve got to come up here, Jaymie. They’re going to operate in a few hours.’

  ‘Operate?’ I heard my own voice as if it were coming from somewhere outside me.

  ‘Jaymie, can’t you hear what I’m saying? Mike got shot in the back!’

  Mike was shot in the back. They were going to operate. At last reality burned its way in. ‘Just tell me one thing. Is Mike going to be all right?’

  ‘He’s – he’s not going to die. The doctor told me that for sure. He said that, Jaymie.’

  ‘Good. Thank God. Trudy … what aren’t you saying?’

  ‘The bullet. It’s lodged in his spine. They used the words “possible paralysis”. So far that’s all I know.’

  I sat there in the dark cab, blocking out the fear. I knew I wasn’t accepting what I’d just heard. It would be hours, or even days, before I let myself understand.

  ‘Trudy, listen to me. I’ll be there as quick as I can.’

  ‘Trevor’s home with the kids. It’s just me here. Don’t take too long.’

  I switched off the phone. Adrenalin pumped through my body and my heart raced. Still, I didn’t drive on.

  I shut my eyes and spoke aloud. ‘Mike. You matter more than anything to me, and you need me. Tell me what to do now.’

  I waited, and after a minute his answer flowed into my brain: I’m in good hands for the moment. Go and do what you have to.

  ‘But what if—’ I left the words twisting in the dark.

  I’ll be here waiting for you. I promise. So go.

  I shifted the car into drive and stepped on the gas.

  I entered Hope Ranch and parked the Camino on a dead end road not far from Agua Azul. I got out and leaned against the door, closing it with no more than a click. Even so, the click sounded like a gunshot in the dark wooded lane.

  I set off with a quick stride. A nearby dog heard me and erupted into a series of alarm barks. But no lights came on. Hopefully the owner would assume the canine was yapping at a coyote or a raccoon.

  A few minutes later I came to the drive leading into Agua Azul. I continued on up the hill, thankful I’d dressed all in black, and grateful too for the lush landscaping all along the road. I could fade out of sight if necessary.

  The method Angel had employed to silence Greco had shocked me. But now I had to admit it was a good thing that the guard dog was out of the picture.

  Before long I was in view of Staffen Brill’s office. Light streamed through the screen of shrubs and live oaks.

  A Lexus was parked in the turn-out. The trunk popped open, and I melted into the landscaping as someone – a man – approached along the path and walked up to the car.

  A light inside the trunk had switched on, and I could make out the guy’s face as he bent forward over the opening. It was Jack Morehead, Brill’s husband. Morehead carried a small overnight case. A golf bag was slung over his shoulder.

  He tossed the case in the trunk, then slid the golf bag off his arm to the ground. He leaned into the trunk, shifted something, then lifted the golf bag in beside the case.

  Morehead stood there for a moment. He seemed to be waiting for something. After a minute, he stepped around and opened one of the doors to the backseat. The interior light came on. He walked back to the office path, leaving the car door wide open to the night.

  Maybe all this was a false alarm. Maybe this was just Jack Morehead, getting an early start on an out-of-town golf engagement.

  But before I could decide what to do next, I heard angry voices. A man and woman were haranguing one another. A floodlight on a pole switched on.

  Now I could make out the Lexus’s license plate number. Just in case, I entered it into my phone.

  Eric appeared around the corner first. He carried something heavy in his arms. My breath choked in my throat: the bundle looked like a sack of flour, but I knew what it was.

  Morehead followed Eric, and hard on Morehead’s heels was Brill. She held a flashlight and didn’t bother to switch it off when she stepped into the pool of white light.

  ‘I mean it, Jack. I don’t like this. I’m telling you, I don’t agree.’

  ‘Knock it off, Staffen. It’s under control.’ He was now carrying a duffle bag, and he set it down at his feet.

  ‘But I have somewhere for her, Jack! It just took a while, that’s all. It’s arranged.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Morehead stopped in his tracks and spun around, forcing Brill to take two steps back. ‘The kid’s got somewhere to go, see? Don’t you get it? I had it set up all along. Don’t worry, Staffen, you’ll get your cut.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Jack, where is she going? Tell me. I insist.’

  Eric was standing beside the car, the bundle slung in his arms. I heard a weak whimper. It was all I could do to stay put.

  Morehead turned to Eric. ‘Put the kid in the back. You sit there too. I’ll toss your bag in the trunk.’

  Eric did as he was told, and Morehead slammed the door shut after him.

  ‘I don’t like this, Jack.’ But now I could hear that Brill had given up.

  ‘Come off it, Staffen. It’s a little late in the game for all this concern.’ He tossed the duffle in the trunk and slammed down the lid. Then he walked around the Lexus and got into the driver’s side.

  Staffen Brill stepped forward, but the Lexus growled to life and dovetailed out of the space, spraying gravel. It took off down the drive.

  I was desperate to run back to the Camino and follow the Lexus. But Staffen Brill stood there, staring after the car, and I’d no wish to reveal myself. Finally she took the path back to her office, and I was free to go.

  I took off jogging down the hill. But I realized it was useless. By the time I reached the Camino, Morehead could be anywhere.

  I halted at the bottom of the drive. I wanted to scream with frustration. Rosie was gone, bundled into a blanket. She’d been so still – most likely drugged.

  No choices, damn it! Where could I turn? The cops were out of the question – I knew they were somehow involved up to their necks.

  I looked up at the main house. A light switched on, and then another. Staffen Brill was inside.r />
  I could think of one slight crack in the wall. One way in. I’d have to make the most of it – I had no other options.

  ‘Who is it? What do you want?’

  I glanced up at the security camera perched over the massive front door. Brill knew perfectly well who was standing on her porch and ringing her bell.

  ‘Staffen. We need to talk.’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘What about?’

  ‘Rosie. The little girl.’

  ‘Go away! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go away or I’ll call the police.’

  ‘No, somehow I don’t think you will.’

  I could have said more, much more. I could have opened my mouth and let my anger pour out. But that wouldn’t have helped me to get the woman to open her damn door.

  Then, it did open. A sliver. I resisted a strong urge to shove it open in her face.

  ‘Invite me in or come out. We have to talk.’

  She opened the door farther. Staffen Brill stood there in her beautiful entry hall, lined with rich hardwood stripped from a faraway rainforest. She’d changed into a ratty old bathrobe, pale green. Her gray face looked haggard under her bright auburn hair. She reminded me of a caterpillar that had begun to entomb itself in a cocoon.

  ‘Go away, will you? I have nothing to say.’ But the door remained open.

  ‘Talk to me, Staffen. Eric and your husband – I know they have Rosie.’

  ‘I have no idea what you mean.’ She wrapped her pale green arms around her chest and stepped back from the door. In other words, she gave me my chance.

  I pushed in and pulled the door closed behind us. ‘Listen up. I saw them take off with Rosie in the car. I heard you try to stop them.’

  ‘I don’t know any Rosie. Why can’t you leave me alone?’

  No way was this barracuda coughing up the hook. ‘Did you know I have connections in the sheriff’s department, Staffen? The police might not move on this, but I can promise you the sheriff’s department will.’

  I couldn’t promise any such thing, but who gave a damn? ‘You wouldn’t look so good in prison orange. Not a good color with that red hair.’

  I saw her falter. I saw it in her eyes: the instant when Staffen Brill began to be just a little afraid.

  ‘I don’t know anything about a kid, all right? I saw Jack and Eric moving something, yes. A package, that’s what it was. I tried to get Jack to tell me what …’ Staffen Brill stopped. She gave in.

  ‘I don’t know where they’ve taken her, and that’s the truth. You’ll never find out, not now. She’ll disappear. Just go.’

  ‘There’s got to be a way to figure out where they’re headed. We could follow the GPS. Staffen, listen. I know you didn’t intend for it to go this far. Help me and things will go better for you.’

  She stared at me, shaking her head. ‘GPS? Do you think my husband’s that stupid?’

  But I could see she’d had an idea. ‘You do know something, though, don’t you? You thought of something, I can tell.’

  ‘Maybe I have.’ Brill started to walk away down the hall. I didn’t need an invitation to follow.

  Near the end of the hall was an elevator. Brill pushed a button. ‘I’ll be back. You can wait here.’

  ‘I can, but I won’t.’ The elevator door slid open, and I stepped in on her heels.

  The space was narrow, like a coffin standing on end. The door closed and the coffin crept upwards. At one point the elevator shook a little, and the woman bumped into me. I felt a wave of revulsion at her touch.

  ‘I didn’t invite you into the house, understand me, Zarlin? You forced your way in.’ We were about the same height, and Brill looked me straight in the eye. ‘You came to the house and I told you to get lost. Then you came back and broke in when I was asleep.’

  She was afraid, all right. But not of the police. I figured Brill was afraid of her dearly beloved.

  ‘I’m not planning on talking.’

  ‘But if you do, Zarlin. If you do, I’ll say that’s how it was.’

  The elevator door opened and I followed her into a carpeted hall. We appeared to be standing in a bedroom wing of the house. Brill turned to me.

  ‘I want to help the child. That’s why I’m doing this, understand?’

  I understood, all right. She wanted to help herself. Staffen Brill was playing her cards with care, strategizing like mad for a range of possible outcomes. I doubted Rosie’s welfare was one of her concerns.

  We walked down the corridor to a closed door. She took a step back. ‘Eric keeps his bedroom locked. Go ahead, break in.’

  ‘Eric – he lives here in the house with you?’

  ‘My husband likes to keep the help close.’ Her voice had taken on a mocking tone. ‘My bedroom is on the first floor.’

  What did Brill mean – that Eric and Jack Morehead were lovers? Somehow, I couldn’t see it. Maybe my intuition wasn’t quite up to snuff.

  ‘You’ve got a key, Staffen. Right?’

  She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I can’t remember.’

  Fine. The bitch wanted me to break in. I reached into my messenger bag for a pick. I thought of slipping on a pair of gloves but decided against it. I was in one hell of a hurry, and besides, what did it matter now?

  The lock popped in a flash. I’d broken the locking mechanism, but who cared. I was torching all my bridges behind me.

  The room was austere, painted tan, trimmed here and there in dark brown. I stepped in, and Brill followed.

  The furnishings were sparse. If it hadn’t been for their obvious cost, the room could have been the cell of a monk. A pair of tall cabinets stood against one wall, and twin nightstands flanked a small double bed. A clothes frame in one corner held a jogging suit on a hanger.

  ‘My, Eric is tidy.’ I walked over to one of the cabinets: three silver-framed pictures had caught my eye.

  ‘Oh, yes. Eric is impeccable.’

  I could hear the loathing in Brill’s voice. I glanced at her in surprise. Eric was a guy she lived with, worked with, and spoke to nearly every day. And it sounded like she hated him.

  I turned back to the photographs. The pictures were of three little girls. One looked to be around four years old, and the other two were perhaps five. ‘Are these children relatives of his?’

  Brill said nothing. The silence was heavy in the room.

  I like to think I’m fast on the uptake. But when new information is something I’d rather not know, it can take ages for the penny to drop. I continued to study the photos.

  The little girls didn’t look at all alike. You could see they weren’t sisters.

  ‘You know all about this, don’t you, Staffen? You’ve been in this room before.’ I lost my cool. ‘Goddamn it, answer me!’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you go over to the chest of drawers on the right, you’ll discover that the trim on the bottom is camouflaging a drawer. There’s something in there. Something you are welcome to take away with you, as far as I’m concerned.’ Her eyes slid away. ‘None of this is my doing. None of it. Do you understand?’

  ‘You let it happen, Brill. You must have known what Eric and your husband were up to.’

  ‘I know what they are, if that’s what you mean. It disgusts me. But believe it or not, I only found out tonight that they had plans for the child.’

  ‘You know, I don’t get it. Your husband isn’t exactly hurting for cash. Why? Why the hell would he do something like this?’

  Brill started to walk to the doorway. Then, just when I thought she’d spoken her last word to me, she turned back.

  ‘Jack doesn’t care about money, not really, except that it gives him power. He’s a puppet master. He’s only happy, even in that dirty little world of his, if he’s pulling all the strings.’

  ‘You’re a bit of a puppet master yourself, Brill.’

  ‘Maybe so.’ She shrugged. ‘But Jack is sadistic. You can’t say that about me. He’s only satisfied if he’s causi
ng somebody pain.’

  She turned on her heel and disappeared into the hall.

  I knelt down and ran a hand under the trim. It slid sideways to reveal a drawer that was no more than four inches high.

  The drawer was locked. I wasn’t in the mood to mess around. I grabbed it by the bottom edge with both hands, propped my feet against the dresser, and pulled. With a graunching sound, the drawer came away.

  Inside was a laptop. I grabbed it and jumped up to go. Then I stopped. This wasn’t just about Rosie, I knew that by now.

  I set the laptop on the bed and lifted down the three frames from the dresser. One by one, I removed the photos. Then I opened the laptop, laid the photos flat on the screen, and closed it up again.

  I ignored the elevator and hurled myself down the staircase. Staffen Brill was standing outside on the porch, calling for Greco. Peering into the black night.

  It was the fastest turnaround I’d performed in my life. I didn’t allow myself to debate, just raced the Cam home, grabbed Dexter, and drove downtown to the office.

  I pulled up at the curb in front of the bungalow court, snatched up Eric’s computer and jumped out. ‘Wait here, bud. I’ll be right back.’

  The courtyard was dark, lit only by a porch light left on by the repo woman. I unlocked my office door, slipped in and locked it behind me. I checked that the blinds were all closed, then switched on a light.

  I didn’t bother with the safe. I couldn’t recall the latest combination at the best of times, and I knew there was no way I’d remember it now.

  Instead I raised a cushion on the craigslist couch, placed the laptop on the crumb-strewn base, and dropped the cushion back in place. On the spur of the moment, I hurried into the kitchenette, picked up a pile of papers stacked on my work table, and spread them over the couch. That would have to do.

  I jogged back through the courtyard to the street, jumped into the Camino, and continued down Mission to the freeway. I hit 101 heading north.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The highway was quiet, almost dead empty. It was all I could do not to press my foot to the floor. Twenty minutes later, I picked up my cell and punched in a number.

  ‘Gabi. It’s me.’

  ‘Miss Jaymie?’ Her voice was blurred with sleep. ‘Is something wrong?’