2 Crushed (16 page)

“Unless you want to confess.”

He got up, scooting back the chair
and walked out.

Billie was waiting for him. She’d
obviously played her lawyer card and got him released. She pulled him into her
arms. “Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if Mother found out I let you get
arrested?”

He pulled back and grinned. “They
didn’t arrest me.”

“Yeah, well they were this close.”
She held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger barely a fraction apart. “I had
to threaten them with criminal lawyer speak and believe me I have no idea what
I’m doing. I’m a family lawyer, for heaven sake. Handel should be here.”

“I’m glad you came. Mom would be
proud.”

“I’d rather she never found out.”

“That might be wishful thinking,”
he said, his tone grim. “Remember the news vans? A kidnapping and murder all at
a California winery? No doubt it’s going national.”

She groaned.

“How’s Margaret doing?” he asked,
following her out of the police station.

“She’s dealing with the fact that
finding out Agosto was dead instead of Davy was the happiest moment of her
life.” She opened the car door and looked at him across the hood. “That’s a lot
to digest. Relief—even joy—is a natural human reaction when
something like this happens, but then guilt sets in. She’ll be struggling with
lots of conflicting feelings for a long time.”

He nodded, knowing she spoke from
experience. “And we haven’t even found Davy yet.”

“No, but Handel is working on it.”

They drove back to the winery
mostly in silence. The police had insisted the news vans leave the premises, so
when they turned down the drive the parking area was eerily empty, except for
Handel’s, Margaret’s and Sally’s cars.

Margaret’s promise to give Jane
Goodall an exclusive interview had been postponed due to circumstances and
everyone was relieved about that—including Jane Goodall who seemed on the
verge of tears after Salvatore’s body was discovered. She’d apparently gotten
more than she bargained for in that relationship.

Margaret and Handel were in the
front office with Sally when they arrived. Adam hesitated outside the door,
afraid Margaret might have some of the same doubts the police had about why he
did what he did. She broke off mid-sentence from speaking with Sally and flew
to the door to embrace him.

“Are you all right? I was so
worried that the police were going to arrest you. They had no business taking
you downtown like you were a common criminal.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and
smiled. “That’s right. If I were a criminal I would certainly not be common.”

“Exactly.”

“If you two are done playing kissy
face,” Sally said, moving toward the doorway with her purse in hand. “I have to
leave. The police don’t want any random people around to accidentally get shot
or something. That means me.” She stopped and looked around at them all, her
eyes suspiciously moist. “See you tomorrow.”

When Sally was gone, Handel picked
up the packet of Polaroid pictures that Billie had retrieved from her office
safe earlier and the thick ten thousand dollar bundle of cash he’d withdrawn
from the bank. “As soon as it’s dark, I’m going to take these to the shed and
leave them on the work bench in plain sight. The police will be staking out the
building from a good distance so as not to alert him when he comes to pick up
the money and photos,” he said. “We’re supposed to stay inside out of the way.
But I’m not going to let something happen to Davy because they drop the ball again.”
He opened his jacket and pulled out a small handgun. “When it comes to my
father, the only thing he understands is force.”

“Where did you get that?” Margaret
asked, shocked. “I thought we only had the one gun and he took it.”

“I’ve had a conceal/carry license
for a few years. For protection. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to
worry. I keep it at the office mostly. Some of the people I deal with make
threats now and then.”

“What are you saying, Handel?”
Billie asked. “You know better than anyone that taking the law into your own
hands is a mistake. We have to have faith that evil will be repaid, that
justice will be dispensed. We can’t do it ourselves.”

“I can’t believe you’re the one
saying that. After what he did to you…”

“You can’t make what happened to me
null and void by doing something that will only bring more pain. I love you,”
she said, and from the look on his face it was the first time she’d said it out
loud.

Margaret pulled Adam out the
doorway. “Let’s take a walk.”

The evening settled in, deepening
patches of shadow under the trees and along the buildings. The last rays of
sunlight, dingy pink, melted into the horizon. Adam twined his fingers with
Margaret’s and they moved toward the vineyard. A squirrel scampered across
fallen leaves and disappeared up the trunk of an oak with a swish of tail.

“Billie’s changed a lot since she’s
been here,” he said, plucking a red leaf from the vines beside him. He twirled
it by the stem. “For the better. She’s a lot more open. I think Handel is
really good for her. I had my doubts a few days ago, but she actually said the
words—in front of us, no less.” He laughed, a slow chuckle that built to
a snort. “She probably hates that she did that. But I’m glad. It shows she’s
human. When I was a kid, sometimes I wondered.”

“She couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No. She was a good sister. Just a
little bottled up. Her and my mother have had a strained relationship over the
years, but I think its getting better. I hope so, cause I got a voice mail from
Mom that said she was flying out here in the morning.”

“You didn’t tell Billie, did you?”

He took a deep breath and released
it. “Nope.”

“You are in trouble.”

“Yep.”

They walked a little ways farther
and then he stopped and pulled her into his arms. “It’s going to be all right,
Meg. You’ll see Davy tonight.”

She wrapped her arms around him and
clung, silent as the moon.

*****

When they returned, Billie was
sitting at the desk, the pictures of the girls spread out before her like Taro
cards. Handel silently watched from his chair across the desk. Margaret and
Adam hovered in the doorway, unsure about what was going on.

Billie looked up and smiled
sheepishly. “Just in case we don’t get them back,” she said, as though she’d
been memorizing their faces. She tapped each one in turn. “This is
Sarah—gone now. Lori.” She picked it up, looking closely at the face of
the girl in the faded Polaroid. “I haven’t been able to find out anything about
her…” She set that one down and touched the next, “or Tina. Except I think Tina’s
mother worked here at one time. Ernesto remembered a girl who came with her
mother, but I don’t know what year that was. He’s worked here since Jack bought
the winery. ” She moved to the next. “Cindy lives in Los Angeles with a
boyfriend. From what she shared over the telephone, it sounded like an abusive
relationship. Angie is a nurse in Seattle. She’s married with three kids. She
was very happy when I told her last year that our abuser was in prison, but she
said she’d moved on and didn’t want to come forward at the time. Who knows what
she’d say now.” The last photo she looked at for a second without saying
anything.

She slowly gathered them back into
a pile and slid them into the envelope, set it atop the bundle of money and
pushed it toward Handel. “We’re ready.”

Handel picked up a two-way and
spoke into it. “I’m delivering the package now.”

An answer came back, “Ten four.”

“The police didn’t wire you?” Adam
asked.

“I asked them not to. If I do run
into my father out there he’s paranoid enough to search me. I don’t want him to
have an excuse to back out on his promise. He may be an evil man but he usually
stands by his word. I’m praying this time it’ll hold true.” He picked up the
bundles and kissed Billie. The gun lay deserted on the corner of the desk. “Be
right back.”

“Be careful, Handel,” Margaret
said, her throat tight.

He smiled and turned to go.

Adam followed and watched from the
front door. Handel walked swiftly across the parking area and disappeared into
the shrubbery and trees that surrounded the equipment and woodworking sheds.
Soon a light flicked on in the shed and then moments later went out again. So
far so good.

Handel was back in the winery
within minutes. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “The ball is in
his court. I hope he’s watching. Now all we can do is wait.”

The radio crackled every fifteen
minutes. No sign of him.

Margaret paced from the office,
down the hall, into the tasting room and back again. On her third circuitous
route, Adam joined her and stopped to peruse the black and white photographs
lining the far wall. He hadn’t taken any notice of them before, but he was
obviously trying to distract her for a few moments.

“Is this Davy?” he asked, although
the picture was old. He bent close to the glass to block the glare of the
overhead lights. His look of chagrin told her that he probably just realized it
wasn’t the best way to distract her from worry about Davy.

“No, that’s my father when he was a
little boy.” Margaret pointed at the farmer behind him, a droopy felt hat
covering half his face. “And that’s my grandfather. I never met him. He died
long before I was born. Lung cancer.”

He moved on to the next picture. A
Mexican family with five children stood under a sign over the winery that read,
Wines of Sanchez
. “I know this
probably sounds prejudice, like I think Mexicans all look alike or something,
but have you noticed how this man looks a lot like Mario?”

Margaret was still intent on her
father’s photograph. “What do you think happens to someone to turn him from a
sweet, innocent child into a monster?” she asked, looking up into his face.

“I don’t know.”

She slowly turned her gaze to the
other picture, feeling as though she was coming out of a daze. “What did you
say about Mario?”

“I know he’s too young to be the
elder Mr. Sanchez in this picture, but he looks enough like him to be his twin.
You think he’s related? Like maybe one of his kids. This boy would probably be
about Mario’s age now.”

She bent close. “Is that a scar on
his forehead?”

“Looks like a scar.”

“Mario has a scar on his forehead.
He usually keeps it covered with a bandana or his hat. That is a weird
coincidence.” She moved away from the wall, but glanced back, a little frown
between her brows. “Really weird.”

“So, you don’t think I’m being
prejudice?” He grinned.

“No, but I think you’re a sweet guy
for trying to take my mind off things.”

“I can live with that.”

When they returned to the office,
Billie and Handel still sat silently, lost in their own thoughts. The big clock
on the wall ticked loudly in the small room, reminding everyone that two hours
had passed since the drop off and the police had no sighting of Sean Parker
picking up the package.

Margaret dropped into the metal
folding chair and leaned forward, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. “I
can’t take much more,” she said.

“Want anything from the snack
machine?” Adam asked from the doorway.

No one responded, so he leaned
against the wall and crossed his arms.

Margaret’s cell phone started
playing the tune to
I’m a Believer
,
and she jumped. She fumbled in her sweatshirt pocket and pulled it out, flipped
it open. “Yes?”

“Hello, Maggie.”

“Dad?” She didn’t want to call him
that, but what else could she call him? He was holding her son hostage and
offending him was the last thing she wanted to do. She said, in desperation,
“Where’s Davy? Is he all right? Please, you have to give him back.”

“That’s why I called. I decided I
can’t hurt my baby girl anymore. I’ve been a selfish bastard up to now. I know
you probably don’t believe me, but I want to turn over a new leaf.” He stopped
to cough and then drew a raspy breath before he continued. “Davy’s just fine. I
wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. He’s my grandson.”

“Then where is he, Dad? Please tell
me.” Her hand shook as she held the phone close to her ear. She glanced at the
others in the room and nodded, her eyes wide. “Handel left the pictures and
money in the woodworking building. Please—take them! Just bring Davy
home.”

There was a lengthy pause, and she
thought she heard the sound of a door closing and the crunch of gravel.

“Well that’s just it, Maggie. I
decided I’m not taking those things. After what happened with Salvatore, the
cops are gonna be on me like lice on a chicken. Can’t afford to come back for
that little bit of money. Besides, Salvatore already paid me enough to live on
for awhile.”

“What do you mean, come back? You
left and took Davy with you?” She tried to tone down her voice but she was on
the verge of screaming.

“Settle down now, Maggie. Davy is
right where I left him. In your tool shed by the Parker vineyard. He’s
fine—just a little tipsy from your homemade wine. I had to give him that
to keep him quiet, cause Salvatore gave me horse pills to give my grandson.
That’s why I shot him. He didn’t tell me about the side effects. Davy could’ve
choked to death if I hadn’t found him in time. That man deserved to die. What
kind of a father would ask a kidnapper to give his own son horse
tranquilizers?”

She covered the phone with her hand
and whispered. “Tell the police Davy’s in
my
tool shed, Handel. Dad left him there and skipped town.” She put the phone back
to her ear. He was still talking about Salvatore.

“…can see why you hated him. I did
you a favor, Maggie. I guess you owe me one.”