Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (17 page)

The deputy backed up a step and spoke meekly. “It’s highly irregular.”

Brewer had calmed down. “And what’s wrong with irregular? I’ve had a successful career in this business and I don’t do regular.”

The warden thought a moment, then, “He’ll have to remain handcuffed.”

A smile touched the corner of Brewer’s mouth and he shook his head. “Deputy, I don’t mean to usurp your authority, but look at the size of him, and now look at me. Do you think he could ever get the best of me?”

The warden shook his head.

Brewer put a hand on the deputy’s shoulder and spoke softly, but firmly. “Just leave a pair of guards outside the door. We’ll be fine.”

The deputy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right, we’ll give it a try.” He raised a finger. “But just this one time.”

“Just this one time,” Brewer said. “Take me there first. Remove Padre’s handcuffs outside the office then bring him in.”

“Will do.”

“And the leg cuffs too. I want him relaxed.”

The deputy frowned at Brewer and let out an impatient sigh. “We’ll remove the leg cuffs too.”

The warden led the way and Brewer followed. He smiled to himself. He wouldn’t likely have gotten his way with the other warden—God rest his soul—but he knew what he was doing.

They arrived in front of the warden’s office. The young deputy opened the door and motioned with his hand for Brewer to enter. Brewer did, and after glancing around briefly at the luxurious surroundings, he said, “This is perfect. You can leave now.”

The warden scowled and left the office. Brewer examined the warden’s desk, opened his cigar box, removed a cigar, clipped the end, and lit it. It was a fine smoke.

Brewer took a seat in a stuffed, leather chair facing a matching couch. He dropped his arms on the armrests and smoked the Cuban in the former warden’s honor.

Five minutes later, Padre appeared in the door. The inmate’s scowl had softened, but the stubbornness remained in his eyes. He stood at the doorway a moment, looking around curiously, his eyes finally coming to rest on Brewer’s face.

The sergeant stood and motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

Padre sat on the edge of the couch, his back straight, and frowned at Brewer.

“Relax, sit back,” Brewer said, leaning over, and offering a hand. “My name is Sergeant Lance Brewer.”

Padre disregarded the offered hand and sat unmoving, his eyes scanning the office. “Nice cell,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Brewer agreed. He sat back down and crossed his legs. “It’s not fair the staff get all the perks while you guys have to put up with nothing but iron bars and crappy food all day.”

Padre nodded his head uncertainly.

Brewer uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “I can make your life a lot easier in here.”

“I’m not a snitch.”

“We don’t like to call it that,” Brewer said. “Confidential informant is a better term.”

“Still the same thing.”

“Maybe, but confidential informants get better treatment. We protect them.”

Padre studied Brewer’s face. “How?”

“How? I’ll tell you how. You’re in here for murder. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s a pretty serious thing, but other than the unfortunate events on Wednesday, which I can make go away, you’ve been a model inmate. No trouble, right?”

“Nope.”

“You never killed the guard when Lucas escaped, did you?”

“Nope. It was all Lucas. He planned it all.”

Brewer smiled. “That’s what I thought. You’re not such a bad sort, and I think I can get you moved to a medium-security facility. Away from all these guys who would like to cut your heart out as soon as look at you.”

Padre’s eyes narrowed. “I still ain’t no snitch.”

“Now Stephan, I would sure hate to hear something happened to you in here. I mean, rumors spread fast, and as soon as they found out you cooperated with us—”

“They can’t find out if I don’t cooperate.”

“I’m afraid they can, and they will.” Brewer motioned toward the door. “Some of the guards here have a habit of talking just a little too much.” He sighed. “And there’s nothing I can do to stop that. You know how it is.”

Padre dropped his eyes and brushed at the leg of his orange jumpsuit. Only the ticking of the clock could be heard until finally the convict looked up and took a breath. “You’ll get me out of here?”

“I will.”

“Minimum security?”

“Yup. Better food. Better terms, and better everything else. Away from certain people who might want to kill you.”

Padre hesitated, looked around the room, and then sat back. “He’s gone north.”

“North where?”

Padre’s brow wrinkled, his eyes narrowed. “Not exactly sure.”

“I need you to be sure.”

Padre picked at his fingernails a moment. “He’s got a cabin up there.”

“Where?”

“You’ll keep your word?”

“If you tell the truth and we get Lucas, then yes, I’ll keep my word.”

“Will you put me in the bucket right now? Keep me safe until you move me?”

Brewer nodded. “Absolutely.”

Padre looked at Brewer as if trying to decide whether or not he could trust him. Finally, he said, “He’s gone to Algonquin Provincial Park. He’s got a cabin there. That’s one hundred per cent truth and that’s all I know.”

“Think Stephan. It’s a massive park. What area is he in?”

Padre looked Brewer straight in the eye. “I swear to you, that’s all I know.”

Brewer had done this kind of thing many times before and he knew when someone was telling the truth. “I believe you, Stephan.” He stood and went to the desk, opened the warden’s cigar box and selected a Cuban. He clipped the end, handed it Padre, and held the lighter while the inmate sucked eagerly on the smoke.

Brewer sat back down. “I believe you, Stephan, and I appreciate your help. Enjoy the smoke.”

Chapter 37

Saturday, 5:31 PM

VARICK LUCAS had watched the big guy leave their campsite. He followed him through the woods for a few minutes, stopped as they neared the beach, and saw him head toward the kids at the end of the lake.

He saw their tents from where he stood and wondered why the guy would be going there, especially when the game was well underway and his family was left alone.

He stood a moment and watched, adapting his plans. He would kill the big guy eventually, but just as it was in the past, right now it would be too easy. No challenge. The end result would be much sweeter if there was more thrill to the hunt and the game was drawn out to its logical conclusion.

The backpackers might fit in later—if they were foolish enough to hang around—but right now, he had better things to do.

He turned and retraced his steps back to the camp, approaching it from a different angle. The woman sat by a tree, her knees up, reading a book.

She flipped back and forth through the pages, often resting the book in her lap, and appeared to be having trouble concentrating. Her mind must have been on other things.

One of the kids had come from the tent earlier and she has shooed him back with a wave of her arm and a stern look. The boy ducked back in. He was remarkably obedient, unlike any kids Lucas has known.

And now it was time to make his move.

He backtracked, circled around again, and approached the camp at her back. He paused thirty feet from her, removed the hunting knife from the sheath at his leg, and grinned.

He crept forward, choosing his steps carefully, avoiding twigs and dead leaves, attempting only to tread on the soft-carpeted areas of moss and soil.

Carefully now. Carefully. Quietly.

Three feet from her he dropped to his knees, swung his left arm around her neck and brought the right one in front, displaying the sharp blade of the knife gripped in his hand.

She gasped. He covered her mouth and bent his head toward her ear. “Shhh.”

The book fell to her lap, and obediently, she stayed still.

“Slowly now, stand up,” he hissed in her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

With the help of his arm around her neck she eased to her feet. He brought the knife closer to her throat, the razor-sharp blade tickling her skin.

He spun her around slowly, turning his body with hers, staying behind her. “Now walk,” he said, prodding her forward.

They moved slowly, very slowly at first to avoid rousing the kids, and then he removed the knife from her throat and pushed her gently from behind. “Keep moving.”

She turned her head to one side as if to catch a glimpse of him. “Where … where are you taking me?”

He laughed. “Not far. Just keep moving.”

She moved obediently as he continued to prod her forward. Her husband could be back any time and they had to get out of the area before then.

The big guy would be a bit confused at first, thinking she’d wandered off, then find the boys in the tent, and perhaps panic. At least, that was the hope—the plan, as it were.

He didn’t want to traumatize the boys in any way, but alas, certain things couldn’t be helped in light of the bigger picture. And if they ended up seeing their father dead in front of them, they would get over it. Boys always did.

He remembered the day he’d seen his father dead. Lying there, stone cold, taking the easy way out. Drank himself to death. And Lucas had recovered. He got over it. Boys always did.

There would be a bright side. A silver lining. When life hands you lemons, and so forth.

They walked in silence for some time. The woman was being remarkably compliant with his demands, so far, and then she stopped abruptly and whirled to face him.

He held the knife close to her cheek and glared at her. She glared back.

Her eyes grew wider and her mouth dropped open, a glint of recognition in her pretty blue eyes. In a hoarse whisper she managed to say, “It’s you.”

“Do you know me?”

She nodded carefully, aware of the knife teasing her cheek. “You’re … Varick Lucas, the escaped convict.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re very attentive. How did you know?”

“It’s your eyes,” she said. “I know you by your eyes.”

She was a smart one, and didn’t seem to be all that fearful of him, just cautious.

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait and find out.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you the one who sabotaged our vehicles?”

Oh, she was being obstinate now. He had some respect for that. She was feisty, careful yes, but standing up to him. Just like his mother did when his father got out of control.

He laughed aloud again, a short laugh, more like a cackle, and ended in a grim smile. “It might’ve been me.”

Her eyes flashed in anger. “It was you.”

He held the knife poised just in case she got too brave.

“The police said you went east,” she said.

“Part of my well planned strategy. That’s what I wanted them to think.”

Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her head defiantly. “You’ll never get away with this.”

He was beginning to like her more and more. “I have so far.”

“My husband will find you.”

“He might be big and strong but I’ve got something that’ll stop him dead in his tracks—literally.” He lifted the front of his shirt, exposing the pistol behind his belt. “My friend here will take care of him.”

She looked at the weapon and laughed. “He’s taken care of bigger guys than you, carrying bigger guns than that.”

Now he was really beginning to admire her. Another place, another time, maybe in different circumstances, she could have been just like him. Brave and strong, smart and well mannered—under normal circumstances, that is.

And that could be a problem. He knew deep in his soul, he would find it hard to hurt her. Maybe a little bit, just to keep her in her place, but he seriously doubted if it could go much further than that.

He would have to be careful. He couldn’t let her know how he felt. That would ruin everything.

He touched the tip of the knife to her pretty little nose. “Let’s go,” he said. “Turn around and walk, straight ahead.”

She flashed her eyes at him again but turned quietly and walked forward. He followed, careful to keep her at arm’s length as he prodded her through the forest.

Chapter 38

Saturday, 5:45 PM

AS JAKE MADE his way back to their campsite, he was still worried about the teenagers at the lake. Except for Holly, they didn’t seem to be concerned about any danger that might be nearby. He feared for their safety, but his primary consideration was his family; the teenagers would have to make their own decision.

The situation he and Annie had found themselves in was unlike anything they’d encountered before. There were no witnesses to question, no forensic team to gather evidence, and no suspects to investigate. To make matters worse, the two boys were with them, and if danger was nearby, his and Annie’s priority had always been to shield Matty from any possible risk.

He stepped from the trees, walked down the grade, and peered around their campsite. Annie must be in the tent with the boys.

He pulled back the flap and poked his head inside. Matty and Kyle sat on the mattress playing a board game. Annie was not in the tent.

Matty looked up. “Can we leave this place now? We’re kinda bored.” He poked his friend’s shoulder with a finger. “Aren’t we, Kyle?”

Kyle looked up from the game, his eyes pleading. “Yes, we’re bored. Can we go for a hike?”

“Not right now,” Jake said, and looked at Matty. “Where’s your mother?”

Matty shrugged a shoulder. “She was outside. She made us stay in here.”

Jake held up a hand. “Stay right here,” he said, and pulled his head back. His eyes roved around the site. Everything looked ok. Hopefully, she’d just gone for a short walk and would be back in a minute. He sat on the grass by the tent and waited.

When she didn’t return in a few minutes, he felt a growing concern. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like her to wander away from camp for long and leave the boys alone.