A Roux of Revenge (24 page)

T
HE FIRST THING
Janie heard was the chirping of birds. The sound was very close. Outside somewhere but close. She struggled to open her eyes, fighting the desire to fall asleep again. Her
nose itched, but when she tried to scratch it, she couldn’t move her arms. Her wrists were bound behind her back. She managed to force her eyes open, but only a small amount of light filtered through the rough fabric that covered her face and head. She whimpered, remembering the rough hands that had overpowered her in the night. Had she fallen asleep? She had been lifted and shoved into something—the
trunk of a car. She could smell exhaust fumes. She had kicked at the inside of the trunk, but nothing had happened. It wouldn’t release, and she couldn’t do more because her hands had been bound.

The man—she was sure it was a man—he was tall and his hands were large. He had dragged her out of the trunk. She tried to twist away and kick at him, but blinded by the sack over her head, she couldn’t
do any damage. He easily avoided her attempts to struggle. He lifted her to the ground. A hard metal cylinder was pressed against her temple. Her arm was gripped so tightly, she wanted to cry. Then she was forced forward a few yards and up a short step. She heard the sound of wooden boards creaking beneath their feet.

Her captor pressed her against a wall and pulled something tight around
her ankles, then something heavier was wrapped around her waist. She was crying and begging him to let her go, but he made no response. When she tried to scream, the man again held the barrel of the gun against her head. He never spoke. It was his silence that frightened her more than anything. She felt his hand near her face and then the rip of a knife as he cut a tiny hole in the sack that covered
her head. She saw a bright light through the opening. A flashlight?

A straw was shoved through the hole and into her mouth. He said one word: “
Drink!
” She tried to wrench her head away, but he pressed the gun to her temple. She struggled to stifle her sobs and sipped the sweet liquid.

“More,” he said. She tried to drink again but gagged and began to choke, the liquid running down her chin
and onto her sweater.

He shoved the straw back into her mouth. “Drink it all,” he growled. She couldn’t recognize the voice. Who was he? Why did he take her? What did he want? She continued to sip, being careful to swallow the liquid in her mouth and trying not to breathe at the same time. She was so nervous, she was hyperventilating. She felt dizzy—dizzy from fear and lack of oxygen. Once
the straw made a gurgling sound and the liquid was gone, he released the pressure from the side of her head. It had to be a gun. Was he planning to kill her? Her terror made it difficult to breathe.

Heavy footsteps moved away from her. One person only. Then the sound of a door latch and all went dark. She started to scream. She screamed for help until her throat was raw. Then everything started
to spin in front of her, and warmth suffused her body. She couldn’t remember anymore why it was so important to reach help. She slept.

• • •

D
IFFUSED LIGHT FILTERED
through the rough material covering her face. It must be day. Her limbs felt stiff, and she still couldn’t move her arms. When she tried to swallow, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Where was she? How far had they
traveled from the parking lot of the festival? And why would someone want to keep her here? Was it the man who had been playing the fiddle onstage? Her father? Had he done this to her? Even if he knew who she was, why would he do this? Or worse, was it a stranger with a more sinister motive? Was there no rhyme or reason to why she had been taken? Her mother had always warned her, begged her to be
careful, to never trust a stranger, not wanting to spell out exactly what could happen to a young girl. Janie sobbed. Why had she run away from home? Why had she gone to the festival? And most important of all, why hadn’t she left a note for Lucky? When would Lucky notice that she hadn’t returned home last night? Or would she only discover her absence in the morning? And her mother! This would destroy
her mother. Why hadn’t she been more sensible?

The light was starting to diminish. It was afternoon, not morning. She had slept through the night and most of the day. She was sure she had been drugged by the sticky-sweet drink. She wet her lips. What she wouldn’t give for a drink of cool water. She could still taste the residue of the liquid in her mouth. Her stomach growled. When was the
last time she had eaten? At Lucky’s apartment the night before? No wonder she was starving.

Her brain was fogged. Her body ached. She rested her head against the wall behind her. Then a sound. Footsteps. The crunching of leaves and the click of the door handle. He was back.

Chapter 34

T
HE STATION WAS
locked up and dark. Bradley had gone home. Nate turned on the computer and clicked open his e-mail account. The desk lamp cast a warm pool of light over his green blotter,
a blotter covered with weeks of notes, drawings and doodles. He slipped his glasses on and peered at the screen. There it was—the e-mail he had been waiting for, the tape from the security camera at the impound lot. He wanted no interruptions while he watched. At least those guys had managed to do one thing right, he thought. Of course, he had had to raise hell over there to get even this much. But
it was the least they could do after dumping his van in another lot and not completing their work.

He clicked on the link and watched the security footage of the guard’s enclosure at the entrance to the lot. The cubicle was well lit. Nate stared as the guard opened a newspaper, yawned, read for a while and then tossed it aside. The man pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it,
but didn’t put it to his ear. A text? In the meantime, a few shadows passed by on the sidewalk.

Nate scanned the background behind the guard’s enclosure carefully, more focused on that area of the screen than on the guard. He could barely make out the shapes of the cars parked within the enclosure. Unfortunately this was the only camera; there were no others inside the lot, and the van had
been parked far away near the rear. There was no way the van could be sighted from this direction. He muttered under his breath and cursed the idiots that had decided to shunt his investigation to the side to take care of something they considered more important.

The guard stood up and stretched, then returned to his newspaper. Nate dragged the mouse across and the footage flew by, frame by
frame. He spotted movement. He backtracked a little and then hit the arrow for normal play. Someone stood in front of the guard’s cubicle with a . . . what was that? A six-pack? The guard responded to the newcomer and stepped out to open the gate, then returned to his enclosure. The man who had just arrived shut the gate behind him.

Nate rewound and watched the same part again. Was that a
shadow that passed near the entrance gate? He couldn’t tell if there was something there or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The lighting and quality of the footage was poor. The newcomer entered the guard’s enclosure and finally turned around. Nate sucked in his breath—Ernie White. Ernie was visiting the impound lot on the night of the theft.

Ernie took a stool, and the guard returned
to his seat. Ernie opened two beers and passed one to the guard. As three quarters of an hour in real time elapsed, the two men polished off three beers each. Then Ernie stood, slapping the guard on the back. He was nodding and talking—must be saying his good-byes. The guard released the gate. Ernie stepped outside, waved and strolled down the sidewalk until he was out of sight.

Nate continued
to watch. The guard leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the stool and closed his eyes. After a few minutes, his head lolled back and his mouth opened slightly. Nate could almost hear the sound of the guard’s snoring. Suddenly, as if hit by an electrical shock, the guard jumped up. He rubbed his eyes and looked all around the enclosure. Then he ran out into the darkened parking lot where
the camera couldn’t follow. Two minutes later he returned to his post and picked up the phone. Nate could see the guard’s mouth moving as he spoke excitedly into the phone.

Son of a . . . I’ve got you now, Ernie White
.

Chapter 35

C
ECILY’S EYES SPARKLED
as she glanced around the Mont Blanc Room. She was thrilled and flattered that Joe had reserved a table at the most exclusive dining room at the Resort. Crystal chandeliers
hung from the ceiling, their light reflected in antique mirrors lining the walls. Other than one or two diners, the restaurant was virtually empty. It felt as if they would be having dinner in a palace all their own. A waiter arrived bearing menus while another lit the candelabra at their table.

As soon as the two waiters melted away, Joe leaned across the table. “Do you see anything you like?”

Cecily smiled. “Lots of things. The seared salmon sounds wonderful.”

“I was thinking of the same thing. Seared salmon it is, then.” Their waiter materialized again, and Joe gave him their order.

Joe smiled across the table at her. “Thank you very much for accepting my dinner invitation. I . . . uh . . . I was a little nervous asking. I was afraid you’d turn me down flat.”

“Not at
all,” Cecily said, wide-eyed. “It’s my pleasure. I’m afraid my life is rather routine with the business and all. I really don’t get to dine out very much, especially at such an elegant place.” She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She didn’t want Joe to think she lived the life of a shut in, but perhaps, now that she thought about it, that’s exactly what her life had become.

“Well, my life in retirement has been rather boring, and I’m sad to say, I’m forced to eat out much more than I would like but never with such attractive and charming company.”

“Oh.” Cecily waved her hand in the air dismissively. “You mustn’t flatter.” A flush of red tinged her cheeks.

The waiter arrived again and uncorked a bottle of wine. He poured a small amount in a glass, handing
it to Joe. Joe swirled the glass and held it close to his nose, then tasted it. He nodded at the waiter who then poured the wine into two crystal goblets.

Joe’s face became very serious. “It’s not flattery, Cecily, believe me. When I met you the other day, you seemed to light up the room. Yours was the friendliest face I’ve seen in a very long time.” He sighed. “People talk about retirement
as if it’s some dream come true, but I spend most of my time wondering what to do with the time I have on my hands.”

An image came to her of Joe, sitting alone in a long string of restaurants, day after day, night after night. The thought made her terribly sad. She was lonely too, but she was fortunate she had her sister. She had never had to eat alone, at home or in restaurants.

“You
probably think I’m a bit mad to still be concerned with such an old case as that robbery, but I guess it keeps me sane.” He laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “I like to think it keeps the little gray cells active.”

Cecily smiled and sipped her wine. “It must be the mental challenge you miss.”

“Yes, that. And being out in the field. I was never very good with sitting in my office and
preparing paperwork. Too restless, I guess, especially when I was younger. Law enforcement never appealed to me, but I guess I might have considered it if I hadn’t done so well in the insurance industry.”

“You must have had a very exciting career.” Cecily could feel the effects of the wine already. She wasn’t the least bit used to drinking alcohol. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time
she had had even one glass of wine.

“Oh.” Joe shrugged. “Not really. Most of my work was eliminating baseless claims or uncovering deliberate fraud. It’s shocking what lengths some people will go to extort money. Almost as if they feel their insurance company owes them for all the years of premiums they’ve paid. And of course, all those sorts of claims just drive up the cost for honest people.
But they don’t see it that way.”

“Fascinating.” Cecily tried to imagine Joe as a policeman or as a detective. He would look very handsome in a uniform. “I guess in a way you have been in law enforcement.”