Sabotaged (20 page)

“We can do that. But Kirra can't see her uncle sabotaging a pump station, Jake.”

“A desperate man will do a lot to save someone he loves.”

“I guess.” Reef would do nearly anything to protect his family, but endangering others . . . ? It wasn't right. They needed to find Meg before it came to that. Before whatever job Frank was supposed to do was complete. “You know what I'm thinking . . .”

“What?”

“I'm starting to think we are off track with this whole Henry Watts chase. Frank said other people might get hurt. How does retrieving a Fabergé egg endanger others?”

“I don't know, but as long as you are this close, let's keep at it. Maybe it is somehow connected with the ecoterrorist angle.”

“How?”

“I don't know. Maybe Henry assessed his options. Maybe he found another plan already in action and offered his services to the environmentalists.”

“Meaning?”

“I'm just spit-balling here, but maybe Watts promised to give Joseph Keller or Sam Matthews or the
cause
a percentage of his proceeds from the Fabergé egg once he fenced it in exchange for something he needs from them.”

“I suppose it's possible.”

“At this point I'm not discounting anything.”

“Well, I should probably get some shut-eye. Any sign of Frank?”

“Grabbed more of his dogs' and his food rations sometime during the night. Must be hitching his team and tracking in by foot, because no one saw him come or go. One of the checkpoint volunteers just noticed his ration bags missing after her break.”

“So he's keeping up with the race front runners for the most part, just off course.”

“So it would seem.”

“Which leaves us little time.”

“You need to find Henry Watts ASAP.”

K
ODIAK
, A
LASKA
M
ARCH
15, 9:30
A
.
M
.

Reef held the door for Kirra as she entered O'Dell's Diner, where Emmett and, more importantly, Henry Watts's girlfriend, Charity Driver, worked. Kirra hoped her personality held true to her name. They could use all the charity they could get.

Reef had tried to convince her to stay at the hotel or police station while he continued to track Watts's whereabouts, but that wasn't happening. She was the one Henry's man had threatened, it was her uncle being used as a puppet in some criminal's scheme, and her cousin was being held hostage. She was not sitting this one out.

“Table for two?” the hostess asked.

“Actually—” Kirra began, only to be cut off by Reef's affirmative, “Yes, and could we sit in Charity's section?”

“Whatever floats your boat.” The hostess removed two laminated menus from the bin fixed to the hostess station
and shuffled Reef and Kirra through the maze of tables to a booth by the front window.

“Thanks,” Kirra said as the hostess handed her the sticky menu smelling of grape jam and syrup.

“Your server will be right out.”

Kirra looked at Reef. “Smart. Getting us seated in her section.”

He smiled. “Harder to avoid us if she has to wait on us.”

Charity took her sweet time before approaching with two glasses of ice water—though Kirra doubted the two misshapen chips of ice bobbing in the lukewarm water classified it as
iced
.

“What can I get you folks?”

Reef started the conversation, charming as always. “Actually . . . we're trying to get in touch with an old friend and heard you were the lady to talk to.”

She smacked her chewing gum, the sugary scent of grape infusing the air. “Is that right?”

“Henry Watts,” Kirra said, trying to keep her voice even.

“'Fraid I can't help you. Henry and I are no longer an item.”

Kirra tried to smother her joy. That little fact greatly lessened the likelihood of Charity's desire to protect the man. “That's too bad. Know where we can find him?”

Charity stopped tapping the order pad with her pencil and eyed them skeptically. “Whatdya want with Henry?”

“Just to talk,” Kirra said. “We think he may be able to help me find my cousin.”

Charity chuckled. “Henry ain't much of a talker.”

“Please,” Kirra said. “My cousin's in serious danger.”

Charity glanced around the diner, and after a moment's hesitation she leaned in. “Okay, but you didn't hear this from
me. Henry's right-hand man, Curly, makes a daily drop-off at the post office right about this time. If you hurry, you may be able to catch him.”

“What does he look like?” So they knew they had the right guy.

“You can't miss him. Six-two, with a mop of curly brown hair.”

“Great. Thanks.” Kirra stood and moved to slide past her.

She tugged hold of Kirra's arm, her skin dry, cracked. “A word of advice?”

“Of course.”

“Curly ain't no peach, but he's nothing compared to Henry. Watch your step.”

“Thanks, Charity.”

Reef and Kirra rushed out of the diner to their car, driving the short distance to the post office. Better to be sheltered by the car than sitting ducks in the open. Plus they'd have transportation to follow the man, praying he led them to Henry.

Reef held Kirra's hand as they pulled to a slow stop five hundred feet away from the old garage Curly had parked in front of. They'd stayed far enough back to avoid detection, or at least Kirra prayed so.

They waited in their rental car until he entered through the front glass door covered with thick paper that had once been black but was now a faded shade of grayish blue.

Approaching the building quickly, they pressed against the stucco side.

“What do you think? Should we call Officer Bohart?” Kirra asked, unsure of the best way to proceed.

“Let's confirm Watts is here first,” Reef said, signaling for her to move around the building with him.

All the windows were covered with the same fading and curling black paper, leaving small slits at the windows' corners for peering in. The first two revealed nothing but an empty storage room. It wasn't until the window by the back entrance that they spotted two men—neither of them Curly. The fact that the only picture they'd seen of Watts was his booking photo twenty years ago—combined with the dimness of the room—made it impossible to tell if one of the men was Watts.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

The two men were bent over a workstation—one appeared to be studying something beneath a large lit magnifying glass.

Reef pointed to a long brown string running between two metal shelving units. “Looks like passports hanging on the line.”

“Document fraud,” Kirra whispered as they turned from the window.

“Call Officer Bohart,” Reef said.

She dialed, heard the operator answer, and then froze as Curly appeared around the edge of the building with a gun in hand.

“Put down the phone, darling.”

The gravelly voice of her night visitor with the bat.

“Kodiak police station. Hello?” the operator said again.

Kirra did the best she could to stall. “Look, we don't want any trouble.”

“I said, drop the phone!”

She put the phone in her pocket, careful not to turn it off.

“I don't think so.” Curly shook his head. “Put the phone on the ground.”

She moved slowly, trying to give the police enough time to find their location.

“Now!” Curly roared.

She reluctantly did as instructed.

Curly took a few long strides over and crushed her phone with the heel of his boot. “Both of you inside.” He waved the gun toward the rear door, which opened for them, a grizzled man waiting on the other side.

“So you're the two that have been looking for me.”

“Henry Watts,” Kirra said, trying to keep her gaze on the man and not on all the document-fraud equipment and evidence surrounding them.

The man held out his hands at his side. “Live and in the flesh, which is more than I can say for you two in a bit.”

“What have you done with my cousin?”

“Your cousin?” He looked genuinely confused. “I don't know nothing about some cousin.”

“Not
some
cousin. Frank Jacobs' daughter.”

He looked up for a moment and then grinned broadly. “Now there's a name from the past. What's ol' Frank up to these days? I heard he went all straitlaced.”

“Don't play dumb with me. You kidnapped Meg and are holding her hostage so Frank will retrieve the Bartholomew Fabergé egg for you.”

“What?”

“You're forcing him to do ‘
the job
.
'”

“Look, lady, I don't know who's got Frank's girl or what
job
they want him to do, but it's got nothing to do with me or that egg.”

“And we're just supposed to believe you?”

“I don't care what you believe, but Frank can tell you I got nothing to do with any of that.”

“How's that?”

“Because the stupid guy returned the egg to Bartholomew the same night we stole it.”

“What?”

“Said he didn't want a man like Bartholomew after him. He never cared about the haul in the first place. He was just there for Sarah.”

“And he just told you this?”

“Yeah. At the trial. Knew otherwise I'd come back for it. Said I could check out his story myself if I didn't believe him.”

“And did you?”

“Yeah. I wasn't just taking his word. I sent a friend into Bartholomew's place. He confirmed the egg had been returned. Stupid Frank—that thing was worth millions.”

Kirra tried to grasp what that information meant to them. “So . . . if you aren't after the egg, what are you after?”

“Nothing, when it comes to Frank.”

“Then why the elaborate measures to keep us off your trail?” Reef asked as he glared at Curly.

He gestured around them.

“Document fraud?”

He tilted his head. “I get caught, I go back to the pen, and that ain't happening. I already lost twenty years of my life in that place.”

“We don't want any trouble. We're only trying to find Meg. This has nothing to do with us,” Reef said.

He was trying to get them out of a tight spot, but Watts's
glare told Kirra he knew full well the minute they walked out of there, they'd contact the police.

“I'm afraid it's too late for that. Curly, tie them up in the next room while I decide how to take care of them.”

Kirra swallowed.
Take care of
us?

Reef pulled against his bonds, the frayed rope tight and biting into his now raw wrists. He had to figure out a way to free them.

“I can't believe we've been chasing down the wrong trail this whole time,” Kirra said. “I kept believing we were getting closer to finding Meg, and we were only getting further away.”

“That's not completely true. Jake is following a hunch on the pump stations.”

“I was so sure Watts was playing a role.”

“Me too, but how could we have known your uncle returned the egg?”

“It explains why Bartholomew just let the situation go.”

“And Watts wasn't stupid enough to steal the same piece twice, even if he hadn't been in jail.”

“But he's stupid enough to start a document-fraud business.”

“No wonder he didn't like us poking around.”

“Without us in the picture, his secret stays safe.”

“But Officer Bohart knows we were searching for Watts, and the police operator surely heard Curly threatening us. Our disappearance will only bring the heat on him.”

“He's not just going to let us go. I saw it in his eyes.” The malice.

“Which is why we need to get ourselves out of here.”

“How?”

“I'm working on it.” Reef surveyed the room for anything that might be of help. The man who tied his restraints knew how to tie a secure knot. He wondered if Curly had done as thorough a job on Kirra's bonds. “I've got an idea.”

“What?”

“Hop your chair over to mine as quietly as you can.”

The men were still arguing in the next room, which he hoped would cover any noise she might make.

“Okay.” She did as he asked, moving more silently than he'd expected.
Impressive
. The woman seriously just rolled with the punches.

“Now, I'm going to shift my chair around so we're back to back.” He did, scooting backward until his hands reached the knot binding Kirra's delicate hands. He set to work and, after what seemed an eternity of painstaking tugging and finagling, finally managed to loosen the knot enough for her to slip one hand free.

She turned, undoing the other, and then set to work unknotting his. He'd just started loosening the knots binding his ankles to the chair when the door opened and Curly entered with a gun.

“Down,” Reef hollered, swaying his chair back, knocking Kirra to the ground.

“What do you think you're doing?” Curly slipped his gun in his belt and moved for Reef.

Reef twisted sideways, grabbing at the ropes on his feet. He'd managed to get one free and kicked out as Curly bent to right him. His boot collided with Curly's jaw, knocking the lumbrous man off balance.

He quickly untied his remaining binding and moved for Kirra, who'd already freed herself. He helped her to her feet
and pushed her into a run for the nearest window, chair in hand.

“Enough!” Curly roared, swiping blood from his mouth, his shoulders hunched as he lurched for them, gun poised to shoot.

Commotion sounded in the next room, and as Curly's gaze shifted, Reef flung the chair. It knocked him in the chest, and he staggered back. Reef rushed him as his gun went off, tackling him to the ground, the bullet lodging in the ceiling.