Finder's Fee (23 page)

Behind the steering wheel sat a painfully thin man with hollow cheeks and sallow skin. He smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. The fact that the clock had yet to see seven made the smell of booze unsettling.

“Ready, Mr. Pennington?” His voice sounded like he frequently gargled thumbtacks.

Pennington stared at the man for a moment then reached across the seats and seized him by the front of his worn T-shirt. With a savage yank he pulled him close.

“What … what are you doing?”

Pennington sniffed. The man had been drinking. He reached for the keys and removed them from the ignition, exited the vehicle, and walked around to the driver's seat. Three seconds later the driver lay on the ground. “You live around here?”

The frightened man stammered. “Y-yes.”

“Good, then you'll know how to walk home.” Pennington slipped into the driver's seat.

“It's a good five mile walk.” The driver stood and dusted himself off.

“Lucky for you it's still early in the day.” He slammed the door, started the engine, and then rolled down the window. “By the way, who hired you?”

“My brother, Ernie.”

“Do you have a cell phone?” The man said he did. “Here's what you're going to do. You're going to call your brother and tell him that I don't tolerate drunks working for me. If he knows what's good for him, he will be gone when I get to the camp. If he's not, then I'll run him over. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Pennington slammed the accelerator down and the tires of the large SUV spun, kicking up dirt and stone. Pennington's mood had gone from bad to worse.

Ridgeline exemplified the perfect postcard mountain community. Like many of the smaller towns in these mountains, Ridgeline had a single main road through it, with shops and retail stores along both sides of the road. Tucked behind these were the small mountain homes of the residents. The
mountain mansions were reserved for spots further up the grade and around the larger bergs of Lake Arrowhead and Big Bear. Those without the wealth of kings lived in the smaller communities. Signs pointed the way to several rustic motels ideal for family getaways or a place to hang one's skis during the snow season. None of those interested Pennington. His destination lay five miles down a dirt road nestled in a sheltered valley with tall pine and fir trees. Field grass carpeted areas not shaded by forest and wildflowers lay in patterns that demanded appreciation.

Pennington wasn't in an appreciative mood. What should have been a smooth, even, uneventful plan had begun to unravel like a cheap rug. He had, on behalf of a dummy corporation created by Cal-Genotics, purchased the remains of a Christian youth camp built in the late fifties. Over the years, the various owners had upgraded buildings and facilities, but the place had fallen on hard times. The owners were glad to be rid of it. After Pennington and Cal-Genotics were finished with it, it would be left to the forest to reclaim what had been stolen from it.

Heavy shadows cast by mountain and trees from the early morning sun darkened the narrow road, giving way moments later to bright sunlight. He drove with purpose but so as not to attract attention from any hiker who might be nearby. As he drove his mind bounced back and forth between all that had just happened and what needed to happen next. His desire — his almost overpowering longing — was to track down that Judith Find tramp and her friend and finish the fight begun the night before. He rubbed the lump on the side of his head, then the one on the back. They had been lucky. Next time, no amount of luck would save them.

But such work was for a later time. For now, he had to focus on executing the plan he had worked so hard to formulate. Already things had gone askew. Killing Zarefsky had not been part of the plan, but the man was expendable. On paper, he appeared the head of Cal-Genotics but Pennington knew better. That position was held by a man he had never met who employed men that frightened even him, and nothing frightened him.

The tree-lined road gave way to an open expanse of field, lush with green, yellow, and purple wildflowers. A wide creek, fed by the snowcap, burbled through the salubrious setting. The field had plenty of room to accept a landing helicopter but such things gathered attention. If anyone wanted to know why a business helicopter was landing in the mountains, he wanted them going in the opposite direction of his true destination.

The Hummer lumbered down a long grade and onto the campground, leaving a trail of dust behind it. Pennington hit the brakes hard and brought the bulky vehicle to a halt. He slipped from the seat and stopped. He heard nothing. Letting his eyes trace his surroundings he saw nothing but buildings that looked abandoned and a yellow charter bus.

Pennington knew each building inside and out. There were six bunkhouses, each capable of sleeping twelve people, one administration building, one small house for the owner, a set of twelve small apartments for staff, and a large dining hall. At one time, the campground had been new and thriving. Black-and-white pictures hung from the dining hall showing tents spaced out in the open field, softball and volleyball games, children working crafts and learning to shoot a bow. The peeling paint and decaying wood showed the glory days had passed a half-decade before.

The sound of rusty hinges forced into action brought Pennington's attention to a man exiting the hall. He could see the similarity to the driver he left in the dirt near the landing field. Pennington marched to the steps that led to the porch around the dining hall.

“Where's Vince?” the man asked.

“I assume you mean the driver.”

“Yeah. I sent him to pick you up. He's my brother.”

Pennington stepped close to Ernie Braun. “I left your brother to walk home. He was stinking drunk.”

A flash of fury crossed Ernie's face. At first, Pennington thought the temper had to do with his brother's treatment. “I told him. I told him no booze. This was a chance for him to make a little scratch and all he had to do was stay sober for two hours and pick you up.”

“I told him to call you.”

Ernie shook his head. “Cell phones are iffy up here at best.” He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Mr. Pennington. Jose was supposed to pick you up but he landed in the hospital last night.”

“Fall off a barstool?”

“No. Jose doesn't drink at all. He fell and broke his ankle. That left me alone with the kids. I had to get someone quick 'cuz I knew you were on your way. I'm sorry he let us down.”

Pennington soaked up the words and the intent. He believed Ernie. He had to. With Jose out of the picture that left just the two of them to finish this assignment. Booting Ernie out now would only endanger everything else that needed to be done. “How are the kids?”

“Creepy. They don't talk. They don't want to run around. They just sit at the tables and wait. I gave them some paper
and pencils I found in the office so that they could draw and play tic-tac-toe or something.” He hesitated and Pennington watched him muster the courage to ask. “I know it ain't none of my business, but what happened to your head?”

“I ran into something. Take me to the kids.”

Ernie opened the door to the hall and Pennington walked through. Twelve pairs of lavender eyes looked his way.

R
idgeline. Is that right? Is that the name you overheard Pennington and Zarefsky talking about?” Luke returned to the car he had parked in front of the pumps of a ser vice station in Arrowhead. He had finished filling the tank, paid the cashier with cash, and purchased a local map.

“That's it.”

Luke opened the map and Judith leaned close to examine it.

“Judith, you said earlier that you've been there?”

“It's been a couple of years. We shot a commercial spot about a new rustic line of products. There's a large log cabin we rented for the shoot. Beautiful.”

“How much do you remember about the place? The town I mean, not the house.”

“Very rustic, fairly small, one main road, small shops, lots of small homes.”

Luke gave an understanding nod. “Well, we're not far from it. The problem is that even a small town has lots of places to hide.”

“But they're hiding a group so the building has to be fairly large.”

“Not really. People smugglers have been known to load lots of people in the back of a van.”

The thought of children crammed in a small room or worse filled her with sadness.

Luke looked into the rearview mirror, shoved the map toward Judith, and started the car. Judith looked in the side mirror on her door. A Jeep Cherokee had pulled in behind them. They were blocking the way. Luke pulled forward and out of the gas station lot. The Cherokee didn't follow. Judith could see the tension leave Luke's body. He directed the car back down the mountain. Judith studied the map.

“Abel, are you sure they didn't mention where they planned to take you in Ridgeline?”

“Yes. All I heard was the name and that it was in the mountains. Oh, and Dr. Zarefsky said the place was perfect for kids. But I don't know what that means.”

“What kind of place is perfect for kids?” Luke wondered aloud.

“Schools, playgrounds …”

“Schools would be too noticeable. School is still in session. It would have to be an abandoned place. Playgrounds are too public. No way to keep the children out of sight.”

“It's beautiful,” Ida said. “So many trees.”

Luke agreed. “The last time I was in the mountains was sixth-grade camp — ”

“A campground?” Judith said.

“It would have to have buildings of some sort.”

“Aren't campgrounds public places?” Ida asked.

“Some, but some are privately owned. They're businesses. Schools, churches, civic organizations rent the facilities and the campground provides food, bathrooms, bunk rooms.”

“It's perfect.” Judith scanned the map for any indications of campgrounds. “There's only one campground in Ridgeline. That must be it.”

“Maybe not, but it's the best we have. We can start there.”

“And do what?” Judith folded the map. “I don't think we have a standing invitation.”

“I need to think,” Luke said.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Abel squirmed.

Luke frowned. “We were just at a gas station — never mind. I have an idea. I'm going to turn around.”

“Why?” Judith said.

“Because I need to find a wireless Internet portal. Arrowhead is a bigger town. I'm betting they have a coffee shop with wireless. If not, I'll try some of the hotels.”

“You're going to get a room to use their Internet connection?”

“No. Some places don't secure their connections. I might have to pay a ser vice to access the Net but that won't be a problem.”

“Will they have a bathroom?” Abel twisted in his seat.

“I'll make that a priority, pal.” Luke made a U-turn and started back up the mountain.

“Why do we have to stay here? I don't like this place. The television is too small.”

Terri looked at her aged mother perched on the edge of the bed staring at an early morning news show and mustered as much patience as she could. “It's only for a day or two, then we can go home.”

“What about my shows? What about Perry Mason? This stupid television doesn't get the right channel.”

Terri returned to the mirror and continued to brush her hair. She had no idea what she was going to do today, but at least her hair would be presentable. “The DVR is recording it. You won't miss a thing. Of course, you've seen every episode a dozen times.”

“I don't care. Raymond Burr is a hunk.”

Terri smiled for the first time that day. “
Was
a hunk, Mom. He's dead.”

“Don't burst an old woman's bubble.”

The television's volume rose dramatically.

“Mom, people in the other rooms don't need to listen to our television.”

“You better see this.”

Something in her mother's tone frightened her. A moment later she stood in front of the small set, her hairbrush still in her hand. “Oh no.”

“Judith Find. Isn't that the lady you work for?”

“You know it is, Mother.”

“Did you know she's a murderer?”

‘”She's not a murderer. Judith wouldn't hurt a fly.”

“That's not what the lady on the news is saying. She says that your boss killed a man.”

“No, she didn't. She said Judith is wanted for questioning.”

“Same thing.”

Terri didn't respond. Every nerve came alive at once. Her mind raced but not a single, cogent thought emerged. It was all storm and wave and foam, no solid thinking.

The sound of her cell phone ringing made Terri jump.

“It's just the phone, girl. What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing, Mom.” She raced to her purse and pulled the cell from it. She answered immediately. “Judith.”

“No. It's Marlin Find, Ms. Penn. We need to talk.”

“How did you get this number? This isn't the business cell phone, it's my private number.”

“I have my ways.”

“I'm not coming in today,” Terri said. “I'm with my mother and can't leave right now.”

“Ah, baloney,” Mom said. She began to flip through the channels. “Stupid television.”

“I assume you've heard,” Marlin said. Terri was sure she heard a touch of glee in his voice. “My mother is wanted by the San Diego police. She's also wanted by the Fresno cops. It appears she's on quite a crime spree.”

“I doubt that.”

“Doubt all you want, you don't matter. What does matter is my ability to speak to her. Has she called you?”

“No.”

“How do I know you're not lying?”

“You don't.”

“I assume you've heard the news about the emergency board meeting. If, or should I say when, Judith calls, you make certain she knows about it. I've left messages everywhere I can, including her email. I don't want anyone telling me I'm working behind her back.”