“Hard. She’s still in her bedroom, but I doubt if she’s slept. I looked in on her during the night. She was sitting in a chair looking out the window at the dark. No tears.”
“Could the two of you meet me at the Sedona Police Station at three o’clock your time?”
“Yes. I’ll get her there.”
“And Loni, where is she?”
“She’s here. Sleeping. She got cut a little and had to have some stitches at the hospital outpatient.”
“Bring her too.”
“There’s a connection between what’s happening here and the governors’ letters?”
“Would I be coming out if there weren’t?”
The duty officer blinked several times. Loni was without makeup, and she and Cilla together looked straight out of a Double Mint ad, without the cheery smiles. Loni, with a hand-size bandage on her right leg, limped gingerly into the Sedona police station and sat in a straight chair, identifying Dora and Harv in a small voice. Cilla was remote; there was pain there as well, but she didn’t allow it to show. She answered questions firmly and precisely, and avoided all small talk. After the police and the FBI man finished with the Fenders, Krestinski took Cilla aside.
“Are you alright?”
“Hudson isn’t.”
“We will find him, Cilla.”
Gray eyes held him. “John, Hudson and I are like one person. When one is hurt, the other feels pain. Hudson is hurt, perhaps badly. I do feel that. But I don’t think he’s dead. What I can’t get out of my mind is that he’s lying injured somewhere out in the desert, and we don’t know where to look. Wally and I drove until the road ran out. We’re not even sure it was the right road; there are lots of little branches… ” The words faded with distraction.
“I’ve arranged fly-overs, low altitude planes crisscrossing southern and western Arizona.”
“But it’s a big desert.”
“Hudson had it right. Loni was the place to start.”
“What have you learned?”
“We’ve got a bit of the story from Dora and Harv. They say they had no idea of the scope of this thing.”
“They do, huh.”
“They say it was Franklin Scoggins, who lives across the street from them, got them to house sit Loni. He said he works for FBI Witness Protection and maybe they’d like to make some extra money.”
“Frank, the doctor?”
“He’s no doctor; he actually works in a medical laboratory in Olympia. No police record, but his name has appeared in several nasty cases. Sociopathic stuff. Not enough evidence to hold him on.”
“John, I heard Dora talking about… taking care of Hudson, with Frank. These are no dupes. They knew what was going on.”
“But Frank is the key.”
“His voice. It had no emotion… He’s an animal.”
“Harv says they soon discovered that. He and his wife also learned it wasn’t just `protection’ involved. Dora said Frank has some big deal going. When she realized she and Harv might be up for kidnapping and attempted murder, she gave us the rest. Scoggins never planned to return to that house. He’s on his way back East. She says she doesn’t know where, and I think this time I believe her. There was no reason for Frank to tell her anything. Almost certainly he’s headed for New England.”
“And Frank is the only one who knows where Hudson is.”
The way she said it was not lost on Krestinski. By the time the agent had met Hudson, Cilla was already in love with the former college wrestler and single sculls champion, but he’d heard stories of what she was like BH - Before Hudson. Various words had been used to describe her, cold and tough were the mildest. Hudson had changed that; a new, more peaceful Cilla had emerged, one able to function again in a world of men, because one of them had proven that the entire sex wasn’t rotten.
For the first time, Krestinski was seeing the old Cilla. He couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but there was an untamed look about her, as though a jungle beast had taken over her body, ready to pounce without warning. It was also the eyes, like gazing into an arctic winter. He caught himself about to step back a pace.
“We find Frank.” A flat, unemotional statement that brooked no argument.
He nodded. “Yes. That’s the other way to Hudson.”
The eyes focused on him. “Have you talked to Loni?”
“Just about to.”
“Let me.”
All the agent’s instincts hollered, “no”. But he had seen the two together; noted the remarkable resemblance. And seen the way Cilla had put her arm around the other girl, protective, almost motherly. Time was a giant factor. Cilla had built a relationship with this girl who had good reason to distrust the FBI. He found himself saying, “All right.”
Loni looked drained. She was obviously in discomfort, but went willingly to talk with Cilla.
“Up in Olympia you said you’d talked with Hudson before he was drugged.”
“At White River. But only for a few minutes. We were planning to talk longer back at the house.”
“Tell me what was said.”
“Well...he wanted to know who Daddy was afraid of, and I told him about the people Daddy worked for.”
“And,” Cilla prompted.
“There was this guy we ran into in Boston. He was the only one I could remember. Mostly Daddy’s friends are pretty stiff and old fashioned. Some of the kids wear hats like that...”
“Hats like what?”
“Cowboy hats.”
“This guy in Boston you met when you were with your father was wearing a cowboy hat?”
“Yes, and I don’t know many guys who wear them back East and…”
“What was his voice like?”
“That’s so funny you should ask that! I think he had a cold; his voice was husky and very quiet. I had to listen hard to understand him.”
“I think I know what he looks like, but you tell me.”
“He was about my height, maybe a little taller. Old but not as old as Daddy. His name was Mr. Cabral. I can’t remember his first name. It was like Gregory, though shorter and foreign sounding. He was in a hurry, almost as though he was trying to get away from us.”
“Because of your father?”
“He’s...he was really my stepfather.”
“Did you feel he was trying to get away from you or your stepfather?”
Loni wrinkled her forehead.
“Me, I think. That’s funny, isn’t it? Most guys think I’m easy to look at, but he kept his face turned away from me.”
“Where in Boston did you meet him?”
“On Washington Street.”
“He was just walking along the street?”
“No, he was coming out of a store. I think it’s the one that sells outdoor sporting goods. I was in there once. You know the type; it has hiking boots, snowshoes, tents. Stuff like that. I got some sunglasses there, the kind that turn darker when you’re in the sun, and...”
“Did Mr. Cabral mention the name `Frank’?”
“You mean like the doctor? No.”
“What else did you tell Hudson?”
“That’s all, I think. I told you we only talked for a few minutes, and then he said he had to call Mr. Krestinski.”
“Did he?”
