Cross Cut (23 page)

“What are you going to say to them about the other guy?” I asked.

“I’ll come up with something.”

Swanson stopped the truck and ushered us out. Before he drove off he said, “Please, let me handle this, you’ll thank me in the end. Also, there’s something you should know. Something I’ve heard whisper of. He’s cagey with it, but, Andonian may have somebody on the inside—from the FBI—in LA.”

28

Ryder was in bed when we stumbled into the beach house at 4AM. The return trip was eventful only in the sense that we had to hitch a ride from a trucker transporting carpets and furniture from Canada. That was worth a five minute conversation, then we sat in silence all the way to Westminster, where we retrieved the Lexus. The thug was no longer on the curb.

We collapsed in the office on my sofa. I went into the kitchen and retrieved the scotch. Sully had no objections as I seldom drink beer.

We got to talking about the night’s revelations. The questions and the lack of answers. Perhaps the most harrowing of all, even more so than the disappearance of Melissa, were Craig Swanson’s final words to us. And naturally, we were second guessing ourselves as to whether the dirty agent could be Kacie Cordell.

While we traded opinions on both sides, we heard a noise upstairs. Movement across the floorboards, and then down the stairs. We watched the office door, and in came Ryder. She was in her zebra striped pajamas, and her hair was a mess. She didn’t have her earrings in.

“What the devil is this?” she said. “Do you two have any notion of what time it is?”

She walked over to her desk. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Sully was checking her out. Not that she’d ever notice.

“Such a ruckus. I thought we were being burgled,” she said.

“Sorry, Boss. Hard to be delicate at such an hour.”

She sat at her desk and rolled back her pajama sleeves. “Report.”

I looked at her and cocked my head. “Don’t you want to get dressed?”

“Will it change what you have to say?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what good would it do to get dressed? Report. It’s almost sunrise.”

“It will be by the time we’ve finished.”

We gave it to her as competently as possible. When we finished, she sat back and groaned.

“Melissa was missing, and you said nothing?”

“For four hours. Seemed hopeless at the time and I don’t see how we can possibly know what’s happened to her. And if what that FBI agent said was true, perhaps Kacie—”

“Futile,” she said. “A crooked FBI agent? That could be anyone or no one.”

“Sure, but given the circumstances, it would be dumb not to suspect her. Even though it’s against every rational thought in my head.”

Ryder sighed. “Thoughts about someone you trust needn’t all be rational. That said, you should keep your faith in that trust. Tell me, why do you think she made that call past midnight?”

“To her friend?” I said. “Beats me. What’s that got to do with my trust?”

She shook her head. “Surely you could not have missed such an explanation? Tell me, in her contacts, whose name is above this so-called,
Amy
?”

Sully still had Kacie’s phone. He swiped the touch screen a few times and said, “Oh—it’s your name, Ader.”

“I thought as much,” Ryder said. “How many times does that happen in this day and age? Touch screens are the devil for accuracy. I would suggest she meant to call you, Ader. And why would she do that if she was party to such chicanery?”

I took the phone from Sully, and regarded it apologetically. “I didn’t notice that,” I said. “Still, why did she go out of the way to find the cabin?”

“I don’t know, but I would suggest you ignore what Agent Swanson told you. I have no more faith in the authorities than you do, but I would not suspect any of them of treachery. All the events at the cabin lead me to believe Melissa and Agent Cordell are coterminous. We just need to know if danger is involved or not.”

“And how do we find out?” I asked.

“By waiting. If our enemy has her, they won’t hurt her. Not until they reach me. There might be the slight eventuality that she is taken to the FBI.”

“If only I had your confidence,” I mumbled.

She frowned.

Sully said, “What about Gillham and Mane, what do we do?”

“Nothing,” Ryder said. “I do not intend to step in front of a federal operation.”

“So your plan of attack is nothing?” I said. “For God’s sake.”

She grunted. “Do not be so melodramatic, Ader. I intend to do what matters, and that is to put everything straight before two days from now. When we will have all the answers, and I earn a fee.”

“Your fee? You’ve barely done any work this week!” I said bitterly. Sully looked away as if he were embarrassed.

“On the contrary, I have done everything. I have a meeting with someone this afternoon that could very well solve the greatest mystery. The mystery of the first seven murders.”

I sat quiet for a while, politely, giving her the time to get it off her chest. Sully leaned forward, expectantly. After a while I grew impatient and waved my hand and said, “Who?”

She cleared her throat. “Dale Huntington.”

I squinted and said, “How can he possibly solve those seven murders? Is he involved?”

“Involved? Not directly.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps he was. It’s hard to say. Just as a stone falling in Africa can change the world, so can a word never spoken.”

I looked at Sully, shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know what that means, but, what’s he got to say? You hesitated to even involve him. And now he’s going to solve your case for you? Nerks.”

Ryder sighed. “I hesitated, yes, but only because I was under the impression I knew everything that happened twelve years ago. It is now clear I did not.” She stood. She opened the blinds slightly. The sky was becoming lighter. “He and I—when the time comes, we will both have to answer for what we allowed to happen.”

29

Sully and I rested for a couple of hours in the office. By the time we came to, it was 8AM and Ryder had already gone to the pier. We had breakfast and waited for Ryder to come back at nine.

Before that happened, we had two interruptions. The first in the form of a phone call.

I didn’t recognize the voice, but it was male and deep, as if he were trying to mask his normal voice. When he announced he was Dale Huntington, I could have asked him all the questions in the world, but I never had chance. He simply told me that the meeting was still on for 6PM, at the same address he had given Ryder earlier; apparently an abandoned parking lot a mile from LAX airport. He then hung up. This told me he was likely flying to LA just to talk to Ryder. Whatever he had to say had to be worthwhile, for either him or her. For Ryder to travel to such a destination, she obviously thought as such.

The second interruption came at the door, at 8.30AM. I checked the monitors in the study and could see it was the BI. Mantle and Johns. I pondered it for a while. What could they possibly want? The FBI was running the show. I hesitated for a while, but figured it would be useless to pretend we weren’t home. No doubt they had seen my smashed up Lexus.

I opened the door a crack and said, “You can’t be here, the FBI aren’t talking to us, so that means neither are you.”

“Oh, they want to talk to you alright,” Mantle said. She took off her shades. She wasn’t wearing her usual smile.

“York, let us in,” Johns said. “You’ve got ten minutes before the whole army comes down here. Bloom and Hacket included. We want to hear your side before they screw it up.”

I let them in. I sensed it was something drastic by Johns’ tone, and I assumed it had something to do with Kacie Cordell. A brief vision flew to my brain; that Melissa had beaten Kacie to death and was now fleeing the country. I was, luckily, wrong. As it turned out, it had nothing to do with Kacie or Melissa at all.

I took them into the office, where they exchanged awkward hellos with Sully. I asked them to sit, but they remained standing.

“A body’s been found, by the NBPD. Washed up on Beacon Bay, you know, just up the road from here. An old man was docking his boat and it pushed the body onto the shore.”

“That’s nice,” I said, “but unless you haven’t been paying attention, we’re kind of busy at the moment. We’re not taking on clients, especially those with a badge with the word
bureau
on it.”

“Cut the clowning, Ader.” Johns liked to mix and match my surname and nickname on account of his tone. He took out a Polaroid shot. “Ring any bells?”

I took the photograph from him. Freshly printed and crisp from forensics. The dead guy’s face was pale and his lips were blue. He was also wearing a green tweed suit.

I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t think of the words, but even still, I doubt I could manage to get my voice box to work. I did say it would bite us in the ass, and this was karma calling for payment.

I showed the photograph to Sully and he simply nodded with a sneer.

“Now, you’re going to hear a lot of this, but—what the holy hell is this?” Johns said. “This guy is wearing the exact same getup as Guy Lynch—hell, he even looks like him.”

It was true, except all the minor adjustments that we saw Monday had been washed away, and the hair looked different after being in the water. It was an awkward moment that required a decision on my part. I opted to play ignorant; that we had no more knowledge than they did. Perhaps they will conclude that the Lynch we saw Monday wasn’t the real one. It wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t know where to begin and they couldn’t very well assert that we had come to that conclusion beforehand. The only reason we had was down to Ryder’s astute observation skills, although, I reserve a certain amount of praise, otherwise she would have seen this coming.

“Well?” Johns said.

“It’s news to me,” I said.

“You don’t look all that shocked by it.”

“Stuff like this happens every week in this house. Ain’t nothing special.”

“Bull,” Johns said. “Look, I’m not going to press you on it. I know better. But the FBI already have the idea that Ryder knew about this, and that it is in some way connected to Melissa. They’re going to arrest you both on suspicion of obstructing justice, withholding evidence and harboring a fugitive.”

“If they do, they’ve blown it. We’re this close to solving it all and if you shut us down, then, tell me, who’s obstructing justice?” I looked at Sully for some form of moral support and he nodded. “This has nothing to do with Melissa. You know that. If not, then you’re no better than Hacket and Bloom. Check with an FBI agent called Craig Swanson, San Francisco Department, and you’ll actually find a real motive for Guy Lynch’s death.”

This was a small bluff, of course, seen as Swanson seemed quite sure Lynch’s death had little to do with the operation, but at least it would give the BI and the FBI a bigger picture of what we had been investigating.

Johns looked at Mantle, who made a note of the name.

“This doesn’t help any,” Johns said. “Finding that body—it makes it look worse for Melissa.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Well, the thought going round at the moment is that she tried to use it as some kind of alibi. To get you and Ryder to swear blind she wasn’t there at the restroom. But she hashes the timing. The guy comes here too early—or she doesn’t get back in time—whatever. She’s already killed Guy Lynch—when news gets out, the guy she hired to come here will likely talk, so she has to keep him quiet.”

“To say that’s the most unlikely scenario is an understatement,” I said.

“Do you have a better idea?” Mantle said. “Why else was this guy here, made to look exactly like Guy Lynch? Would the Cross Cutter bother doing such a thing? And let’s say the idea Melissa was framed by that Romanian gang isn’t bogus—why would they do it?”

I had to admit, she had me there. I hadn’t come to any reasonable conclusion myself, anymore than I had done Monday. As for Ryder—well, I could only guess.

“Let’s cut the crap, you know Melissa didn’t do this,” I said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Why are you here?”

Johns nodded. “I know there’s more to this than what we know. We came here to plead for you to open the bag. We know Ryder. She’s a great detective, but stubborn. She won’t divulge anything to Gibbs or Hacket and Bloom. But put it to us, and we’ll look into it, no matter what they think.”

“You all know something the FBI doesn’t,” Mantle said. “What is it?”

I sighed. This was getting a little too complex. Would telling them about twelve years ago change anything? Probably, but not for the better. They’d only flounder around it. And it might make them look even closer at Melissa and us. As soon as they realize the events were tied so closely to Ryder, we wouldn’t have space to breathe.

It was then I decided to roll the dice. No, I wasn’t going to tell them anything. Something that I would apologize for later. I trusted Johns and Mantle, but I didn’t trust the situation we were all in.

It was time to abandon ship, hoping that Ryder wasn’t fooling when she’d said she was close to a solution.