Distortion (Moonlighters Series) (29 page)
The woman was opening a roll of quarters and seemed intent on peeling the paper off carefully. “I don’t remember seeing her.”
Cathy found a picture of Juliet on her phone and showed it to her. “Here. This woman.”
She shook her head. “Nope, sorry. She’s pretty. I think I’d remember that red hair.”
“Can you check the gas receipts? Juliet Cole. Did she buy gas?”
The woman got on her computer, clicked through some things. “No, she hasn’t used a credit card here today.”
Cathy wanted to scream. She went outside and looked in all directions. Maybe the computer had it wrong. Maybe she was nearby. Across the street or something.
She quickly dialed Juliet’s number again. “Answer, Juliet,” she whispered. “Pick up the stinking phone!”
Suddenly she realized what she was hearing: the chorus of “Cathy’s Clown,” the ringtone Juliet used to identify Cathy’s calls. She followed the sound toward the pay phone on the wall. There was a trash can next to it. She dug into the garbage and found the phone . . . still lit up and ringing.
Why would Juliet have thrown her phone away?
She wouldn’t. Someone else had put it here so that it couldn’t be used to lead them to Juliet.
Feeling sick, Cathy got back into her car and called the FBI agents. Finally, Agent Blue answered.
“Where is my sister?” Cathy said, her voice shaky.
Blue hesitated. “She’s at the safe house, Cathy. You know that.”
Increasingly frantic, Cathy told her about finding Juliet’s phone in the garbage. “Has she tried to call you?”
“No.”
“Well, aren’t you monitoring her? Isn’t there a guard or anyone—?”
“Yes, but we haven’t been able to reach him for the last half hour. The cell phone reception isn’t that good where they are. I’ll call again now. Just calm down.”
Tears filled Cathy’s eyes, and she pictured the top of her head exploding right off. “Find her!” she screamed. “For all we know, Miller took her, took the kids—”
“Hold on, Cathy. Don’t panic. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Don’t panic? You’re telling me not to panic?” she shouted. “Where is that house?”
Blue wouldn’t tell her, but she promised to do everything in her power to find her. Cathy hung up. Gripping the steering wheel, she dropped her head. “God, if you still listen to me, please take care of them!”
Her prayer was desperate, and her thoughts grappled with horrors rather than faith. She hoped God listened anyway.
C
athy had just met Michael and Holly at his office when Agent Blue called her back. She put her on speakerphone. “What have you found out?” Cathy demanded. “Where is she?”
“We sent someone to the safe house to check on them. They found the guard dead and . . . your sister and the kids are gone.”
Cathy kicked Michael’s desk. “I told you!”
“We just reviewed the security video at the Court Street building for the last hour. Juliet was there.”
“What? Why would she go there?”
“She was with Miller and one of the Harper brothers. They used her to get inside.”
“Where is she?” Cathy yelled into the phone. “Tell me where she is!”
“They took her with them.”
Cathy wanted to scream. “You’re telling me they kidnapped
my sister and took her to that building, and you guys weren’t watching? That the safe house wasn’t
safe
?”
Holly had started to cry, and Michael was on his feet bent over his desk, listening. “You find her and you get her back!” Cathy screamed.
“What about the kids?” Holly asked weakly.
“Were the kids with her in the video?” Cathy said into the phone.
“No, they weren’t.”
“Then where are they?”
There was a long pause. “It’s possible they used the kids to manipulate her.”
Cathy couldn’t believe their complacency. “What is it you people are doing? This whole thing is going to pot and you’re just sitting there—”
“We’re not just sitting here, Cathy. We’re doing everything in our power.”
“Well, obviously you don’t
have
any power if they could do this. So help me, if anything happens to her or the kids, I’ll sue the federal government and make sure everyone knows—”
Michael stopped her. “What’s the plan now?” he asked into the phone.
“We’re working on broadcasting an Amber Alert.”
Cathy saw Michael’s face reddening. “Have you found out anything from tapping Amber’s phone?”
There was a sickening moment of silence. “It appears that Amber is using an alternate form of communication. They had her buy a disposable cell phone. We haven’t been able to get the number.”
“So she’s communicating with the traffickers and probably
the kidnappers, and you guys are out of the loop? How will you resolve this?”
“I told you, we’re working on it.”
“That means they don’t have a plan!” Cathy shouted, knowing they heard her. “It means they don’t have any way of tracking her down!”
“Oh, dear God,” Holly said as she came closer and reached for Cathy. They clung together as Michael ended the call.
“What now?” Cathy asked.
“First we pray,” Michael said. “Then we figure out a plan of our own.”
T
he car slowed, and Juliet braced herself in the trunk. It stopped, and she heard the car door slam, then a key in the trunk lock.
The trunk opened, light spilling in. She sat up, squinting.
Along with Steven, Amber Williams stood there with her arms crossed. “Did you have a nice trip?”
“Where are my children?” Juliet demanded, climbing out of the trunk. When her feet were on the ground, she lunged at Amber and screamed, “Where are they?”
Amber stepped out of her reach, and Steven stuck his arm between them, holding Juliet back. “They’re safe for now,” Amber said. “They will be as long as you do what we tell you.”
“Are you going to take care of them the same way you take care of your own?”
Amber slapped her. Juliet gasped, and rage erupted in her head like boiling lava. As Amber turned away, Juliet pushed
past Steven, swung and knocked Amber to the ground, then threw herself on top of her, satisfied that she’d drawn blood on her enhanced cheek.
“Tell me where my children are!”
She heard Steven cocking his revolver. “Get off her. Now!”
When Juliet made no move to get off, Steven grabbed her by the arm. Juliet got to her feet, her chin set tight and her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She pointed to Amber. “I don’t know what Bob told you about me, but I can guarantee you that you’ve all underestimated me!”
“He said you’d die for your kids. We might just arrange that.”
“Wrong!” Juliet countered. “He should have told you I’d
kill
for them. What do you want from me?”
“You’re going to help us get access to his bank accounts,” Amber said, touching her bloody cheek.
Juliet hoped the wound would leave a scar. “I don’t know anything about them. Just our joint account. I’ll give you access to that, but—”
“We want the big ones. The ones that matter.”
“I don’t know how to get into those! I didn’t even know they existed.”
“You can help us figure out his passwords. You can answer his security questions.”
“All right,” Juliet said. “Let’s do it now.”
Steven tied her hands behind her back, and they pushed her toward the house. The place looked like a deer camp, set deep in the woods. She tried to figure out where she was. An address . . . a street . . . But she saw nothing. Only a dirt road leading to the house from who-knew-where. There seemed to be only one set of tire tracks.
They took her into a dusty, moldy room and set her down. She hadn’t seen Miller. She wondered where he’d taken the cash. “Leonard Miller’s going to take the cash for himself, you know,” she told Amber. “He’s using me to keep you busy while he does.”
“Shut up!” Amber sat down at a computer and navigated to an international bank’s website.
Juliet sat stewing, going back over the day’s events in her mind. When she’d let Darren and his partner into the King’s Point house, they hadn’t called for backup. Shouldn’t they have roped it off? Shouldn’t the place have been crawling with feds by the time they’d left there?
And where was the cash that had been in the first safe?
All they had done was taken her to a supposed safe house—which turned out not to be safe at all. It had been someone’s home . . . dirty, cluttered . . . not the kind of place the federal government would put an endangered witness in.
Were they bad cops?
She knew that Darren was in fact the regional bureau chief. He’d been recruited into the FBI in his twenties, had spent time in Washington, then other bureaus around the country, and finally had come back to Panama City.
Could he have been corrupted at some point along the way? If greed could change Bob, it could change Darren. What if the feds were in this with Amber and Miller? As it stood, it looked like Darren and Blue had taken most of the cash but left just enough for the crime scene investigators to log as evidence. No one would know they’d taken half of it.
But no, if they’d been working with Miller, he wouldn’t have had to take Juliet back there. He would have had access.
She couldn’t work it out in her mind. All she knew for sure was that her children were in trouble.
To the thieves, what would be the point in keeping them alive? If Miller planned to escape with the money, he’d be better off with Juliet and her children dead.
The reality of that blazed in her like a nuclear dawn.
M
ichael had lost track of Miller, so he’d parked in Miller’s parking lot, hoping the man would return. When he was about to give up, the white cargo van pulled in. Michael slowly sat straighter. He couldn’t see the driver from so far away, but there was no question it was Miller’s van. Same tag.
He watched as Miller got out, locked it, checked all the doors, then ran into his apartment.
Michael grabbed some plastic ties out of his console and shoved them in his pockets in case he got close enough to cuff the man. He considered taking the risk to cross the lot and look in the van for Juliet or the kids, but before he could make a move, Miller rushed back out and got back in, then pulled out of his parking space. Michael’s heart raced as he followed at a distance, knowing in his bones that Miller was about to do something that would crack this case. If Michael could stay on his tail without being spotted, Miller might lead him to Juliet.
With every mile, rage pounded harder through Michael’s veins. Miller had murdered Joe in cold blood—and now he had Juliet and her kids. He would pay this time. He followed, trying to keep several cars behind him.
Then Miller turned off the main road to a small street—it would be difficult to follow now without being seen. Michael didn’t take that turn; instead, he went another block down and turned onto a road parallel to where Miller was, hoping he would find him at an intersection. When he came to a red light, he looked down the block and saw Miller’s van turning right. Michael turned. There was one car between them.
Then the car turned off, and the buildings on the street grew farther apart, until there was nothing but trees, and there were just Michael and Leonard Miller on the road. Michael backed off about half a mile, and then just in case Miller had seen him, he turned off and drove up the parallel street again.
Michael checked the GPS to see what street it was, but the screen didn’t show a road here. The asphalt was new; this must be a new street. He turned again and returned to the road Miller was on—but Miller had disappeared. Michael drove slowly, looking from one side to the other to see if Miller had pulled off anywhere.
The road was flanked by woods. No parking lots or buildings. There was an occasional dirt road. Maybe he’d turned onto one of those. Michael braked at one of them, then checked his mirror.
Miller was barreling up behind him—too fast.
Michael groaned and punched his accelerator. Miller had seen him! Now what? He wasn’t able to accelerate fast enough, and Miller caught up to him, rammed his bumper. In the mirror, Michael saw that Miller was smiling and laughing, playing
with him. Something burst inside Michael’s chest. Gritting his teeth, he stomped his brakes, skidding to a stop. He braced himself as Miller bashed him from behind.
Michael jumped out of the car and ran back to open Miller’s door. Miller’s airbag had deployed. Michael grabbed him by his collar and threw him to the ground, going for his throat.
“Where is Juliet?”
Miller’s face was turning red, and the veins on his face and chin bulged.
“Where is she?” Michael shouted. “Spit it out!”
Miller spat in Michael’s face.
Michael flipped Miller over and twisted his arms behind his back, grinding his face into the asphalt. He pulled the plastic ties out of his pocket and bound Miller’s wrists. Then he bound his ankles. Quickly he patted him down, looking for his weapon.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Miller hissed.
“Oh, I know,” Michael said through his teeth.
“They’ll kill the kids.”
Michael went back to Miller’s van, pulled a pocketknife out of his pocket, and stabbed the airbag so it would deflate. He searched until he found a .38 revolver and a knife with an eight-inch blade in the door pocket. He took them both, cocking the gun and pointing it at Miller’s head.
“Get up.”
Miller struggled to his knees. “You’ll go to prison for even touching that gun,” he said.
“You’re right,” Michael said. “And it’ll be worth it. Get up!”
Miller struggled, so Michael roughly helped him to his feet.
Michael bent and lifted Miller over his shoulder. The man
yelled and tried to fight, but he was bound and Michael was stronger. Michael took him around the van and opened the passenger door, then dropped him to his feet and shoved him into the seat. “I’m driving,” Michael said. “If we’re seen, your scumbag friends will think it’s you.”
He got into the driver’s seat, the gun in his left hand across his stomach. “You make one move,” he said through his teeth, “I’ll blow out your kidneys and your liver.”
