Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (20 page)

“Yeah. I got the feeling someone was following her. And I think she was scared. I mean really scared.”

Leaning closer to her, brows furrowing deeper, “Why do you say that?”

Raising her shoulders and tilting her head, “Nothing in particular. She just seemed nervous, especially when we walked to the car. She kept looking over at Maverick and wasn’t acting herself. I felt like she was overacting during our conversation to cover up how scared or worried she was.”

Sighing with disgust, “And you didn’t bother to quiz her?”

“I know. I should have, but...,” she said, teary eyed.

“What’s done is done.” Howard rocketed from the chair. “I’m going to her house. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Wait,” Belinda called, running after Howard. “Do you have a key?”

“Don’t need one. I know the garage code,” he called over his shoulder, dashing out the door.

TWELVE MINUTES LATER, ALMOST 7:30 A.M. “Dear God in heaven,” he gasped, numbly gazing at the savagely mutilated dog in Jewels’ kitchen. “What the hell happened?”

Knowing his presence could be disturbing crime scene evidence ... or
adding
evidence, he carefully retraced his steps through the mud room into the garage. Couldn’t afford to get tangled in the bullshit police red tape.

Once outside, he hurried to his car, dialed Belinda’s cell.

“Hello.”

“Jewels’ Humvee’s gone and Boo-Boo’s dead—”

“On my God!”

Rapidly walking to his Porsche 911 Turbo and crawling in, “Get over here right now. Then call Hines. Tell him the dog is dead and Jewels’ vehicle is missing,” he said, starting his sports car.

“Me? I’ll call him, but why don’t
you
stay there?”

“No!” he stated emphatically. “I’ve got contacts. Connections who can help. But you gotta keep my name out of this. It’s like I was never here. That’s why I want
you
at her house.”

No response.

Impatiently: “Belinda, do you understand?”

“Got it,” she reluctantly agreed.

“So your story is, since you couldn’t reach Jewels by cell or home phone, you drove to her house. That’s how you discovered the dog. Agreed?”

Sighing, “Yes.”

“Remember, you’re doing this for Jewels.”

“Anything for Jewels.”

Driving the sports car hard, he rocketed down the private lane. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll contact you when I can,” he said, disconnecting the call, flying onto the highway.

From memory, he immediately pounded a number into his cell phone.

After one ring: “How may I help you today?” a monotone male voice answered.

“This is a nine-one-one for Bradshaw from Dyson.”

The man slowly and clearly repeated, “Nine-one-one for Bradshaw from Dyson.”

“Affirmative.”

“Thank you,” the man said, disconnecting the call.

FRIDAY, 8:30 A.M.
The word was out and a formal press conference was in the making. In less than twenty-four hours, multimillionaire Julia Andrasy’s name had appeared as a witness in a murder case, and now as a kidnap victim ... or worse.

But Jewels was much more than a mere multimillionaire to the community. To members of the media she was, at minimum, a highly respected colleague; an award-winning investigative reporter. To most everyone else in the community, Julia Andrasy was a dear friend and generous contributor to a variety of worthy causes. Hence, her disappearance was news. Big news. And attracted concerned well-wishers not only from the local area, but from the western
United States
.

Reporters swarmed Jewels’ house like a colony of fire ants foraging for food. TV. Newspaper. Radio. Even a CNN helicopter.

Standing on Jewels’ front porch the agent reviewed the tattered placemat in his hand. A sneer blanketed his face as he read the title, SPOF HIDEAWAY.

His mind drifted back to BOO-BOO’S DINNER MENU. A clever name for such an important file, he thought. It may have slipped past the average unsophisticated thief, but he was not the average thief, nor was he unsophisticated. He was one of law enforcement’s brilliant minds. Not only had he deleted the map from her files, but wiped out the telltale history and the automatically saved backup version, effectively erasing any evidence the SPOF map had ever existed on her computer.

And as far as finding the original map, well, she could have been a bit more creative and much more careful. Carelessly she had left the china closet drawer slightly ajar, leading him right to it. And, honestly, he had expected more from her than that.

Flashing a superior grin, he folded the white paper and stuffed it in his suit pocket. Discovery of the map would not be released to the public. It would be a secret.
His
secret.

He peered out at the crowd. They were restless. It was time to conference with the press.

Raking a comb through his slightly mussed up hair, he tugged at the knot of his red, white, and blue paisley print silk necktie before stepping to the edge of the porch.

This was why the crowd had gathered. Sporadic hush-hushing quieted the media mob.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Theodore Hines. I’m the Special Agent In Charge of the FBI at the Salt Lake office. It appears Miz Julia Andrasy has fallen victim to foul play.”

“Why is the FBI involved? What happened to the local authorities?” a chunky man wearing a maroon Harley Davidson T-shirt shouted.

“The New Greensburgh Police asked for assistance and we’re giving it to them,” Hines replied. But that was a lie. He had waved his federal badge and snatched the case from under the locals’ noses, claiming Jewels’ disappearance was related to a major federal case. One that was a matter of national security. The locals had no reason to question him or protest.

“Did you a find a body?” one female reporter blurted out.

“No. There’s plenty of evidence Miz Andrasy fought back. We’re hopeful she’s still alive.”

“Word is, there’s blood splattered all over the house. Is it hers?” another female shouted.

“I can’t answer that question at this time.”

“Is it true her dog’s head was cut off?” a male voice quizzed from the sea of hungry reporters.

“It’s true the animal, a golden retriever, was killed, but not decapitated.”

A flurry of questions blistered Hines, reporters talking over one another in hope their question would be answered next.

Agent Hines waved his hands in front of him. “Please, please. One at a time.” Pointing to a fat man wearing a black tweed jacket, “Do you have a question?”

“Has a ransom note been found?”

“No. And we don’t think we’ll see one. We don’t believe Miz Andrasy’s disappearance was motivated by financial gain, but we’re not completely ruling it out.”

“If not money, then what’s the motive?” the fat man blurted out.

Hines ignored him, pointed to the young man standing next to the fat guy as an indication he’d field his question next.

“Thank you, Agent Hines. Do you think Miz Andrasy’s disappearance is connected to her friend’s murder that just happened yesterday? Perhaps even the motive for her disappearance?”

Hines shifted his eyes to the floor. Jingled the loose change in his pocket. Thinking. After taking a deep breath, he looked above the heads of the reporters, purposely avoiding eye contact. “We don’t know exactly what happened yesterday or to what extent Miz Andrasy was involved. I can tell you, however, we haven’t ruled out the possibility of a connection.”

“I did some digging on Sharon Jeppson,” an enthusiastic young reporter called out, “and she seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth about two years ago until she cropped up yesterday at the deli, murdered. Do you know where she’s been and why she surfaced after two years off the grid?”

FBI Special Agent In Charge Theodore Hines, frowned. Eyes narrowed. Leg stance widened. Leaned his body forward slightly toward the annoying reporter, exhibiting subtle aggressive body language as in indication that was all the answer the young man was going to get on the subject.

“So what are you doing to find Julia Andrasy?” piped up a pudgy Barbara Walters look-alike standing in the back row.

Nodding his head at her, and relaxing his stance a bit, he answered, “We have an APB out on Miz Andrasy’s Humvee. This vehicle is highly customized and very distinctive. The locals would know it instantly. And before you leave, I would like each of you to have a color photo of Miz Andrasy’s Hummer which will also be available to download from our web site. If anyone sees this vehicle, or anyone saw this vehicle between approximately ten last night and six this morning, they should contact me directly and immediately.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?” the Walters look-alike probed.

“We have no evidence to the contrary and certainly hope so.”

A tall lanky man, pen and pad in hand, pushed his way forward. “What tipped you off that Miz Andrasy was missing?”

“Last night Miz Andrasy sent an electronic message to her secretary who discovered it just this morning. It was a message of distress. Exactly what was happening to Miz Andrasy when she sent the message is unknown at this time.”

A second flurry of questions bombarded Hines.

Holding up his hands like stop signs, “Folks. Folks, that’s all for now. Thank you.”

FRIDAY, 0848 HOURS.
“Hey, Doc! How’s our girl?” Tank called, bursting through the exam room door.

A deflated Callahan sat in a chair next to an empty exam table, his face doused in misery.

The room looked like it had been ransacked by a crack head in search of a fix. Cabinet drawers and doors open. Medical paraphernalia scattered all over the floor and across the counter tops.

Thrusting his hands on his hips and gazing down at him, “What the fuck happened, Doc?” Tank quizzed, annoyance in his voice.

Shaking his head, Callahan confessed, “I strapped her down, like you said. But then we got talking and...,” he shrugged, “she needed to go to the bathroom.”

That’s all Tank needed to hear. He knew exactly what had happened: the bitch had tricked the marshmallow-hearted old geezer and escaped.

“Shit,” he snorted, swiftly turning and sprinting out of the exam room. Erupting into the gloomy hall, “Red alert! Red alert! Prisoner’s escaped! Prisoner’s escaped,” he bellowed.

ONLY THE NOISE OF THE SOLES
of army boots madly slapping against the damp stone floor could deafen the hammering of Jewels’ heart. Abruptly the hurried pounding of heavy boots stopped. A meager army gathered outside the closet door that kept Jewels invisible. Instead of retreating into the darkness, she felt compelled to keep an eye on the group and peered through the crack, but camo-clad legs and black lace-up army boots were all she could see.

“Men, our escaped prisoner is a woman.”

Jewels cringed. She knew that voice. It was her kidnapper’s.

Catcalls rose from the men like steam from a pressure cooker whose lid had just opened.

“Not that you really need to know more details other than it’s a woman you’re looking for—”

“So we’re looking for that Sharon skank,” one of the men blurted out, referring to the only female member ever admitted into the group.

Laughter erupted.

Snickering, Jewels’ kidnapper clarified, “Nope. She’s gone. Won’t be back.”

“Ahhh, I’m gonna miss that girly ass,” a man said, with a demeaning laugh.

“Ta hell with her ass,” another man scolded. “She was
thee
design wizard of our booby trap bombs and with—”

“Pay attention,” Jewels’ kidnapper ferociously interrupted.

The men instantly fell silent.

“You’re looking for a woman about five seven, long blonde hair, maybe a hundred-fifteen pounds. Her name is Julia. Julia Andrasy.”

Her kidnapper’s audience gasped.

“That’s right guys, she’s the Commander’s woman. So for chrissake, don’t kill her and make sure you don’t hurt her either. She must be apprehended unharmed. But one word of caution: don’t let the fact she’s a pretty little dame fool you into thinking she couldn’t cause you pain. She’s as nasty as a grizzly caught in a steel trap, so be careful.”

Scoffs and murmurs of disbelief rumbled through the gathered men.

“I’m fuckin’ serious. This woman shot me. Even tried to rip my eyes out. And poor Doc Callahan, well, she really pulverized his clusters.”

Odd grunts and groans of misery filled the hallway. Jewels imagined eyebrows arching and faces grimacing to match the sounds.

“So watch your eyes and balls,” Jewels’ kidnapper warned. “She couldn’t have gotten very far in this hippie complex, but she could be holed up somewhere. I want every nook and cranny searched. And when you find her, take her to the infirmary and wait for me. I’ll be outside searching the compound perimeter.”

Every
nook and cranny searched? Presumably including the one she was hiding in less than two feet from the searchers.
Shit!
Discovery was imminent. Jewels pinched her eyes shut, held her breath, and crossed her fingers. Wishing. Hoping. Praying. If God or Lady Luck ever considered helping her,
now
would be the time.