“I don’t give a damn.”
“Oh, but you should. I’m at Jaimie’s.”
“So?”
“Are you familiar with her television and sound system?”
Michael felt his first stirring of unease. He said nothing.
“Really, you should have a talk with your sister. She was dumb enough to leave the DVD she burned of your party out in plain sight. Well, not plain
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t you want to see the video?”
Michael felt his pulse race. Did Jaimie really just leave it out for anyone to see? Was she that stupid?
The answer was yes. She was that stupid.
“One thing I’ve learned,” the guy said, “in this long life of mine, is that people do what’s easy. When nobody’s looking, when they feel like they can let their guard down, that nobody will know how smart they are, they do dumb things. Like put a DVD right next to the DVD player. Maybe put something on top of it, oh, like a bunch of movies, to hide it, but I can’t tell you how many times people have fucked up on some little turning point like that.”
Michael didn’t reply.
“There’s even writing on the case. ‘TSC.’ That’s what it says on here. Sound familiar?”
“No.”
“This is just a guess, but maybe TSC is short for The Survivors Club. Oh, wait, she mentioned that somewhere along the way. Maybe it was on the drive over. Hard to hear her with that choke chain pulled tight.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re full of shit.”
He was about to thumb the phone off when the guy said, “Nice party you guys had. Let me send it to you. Hold on.”
It came through.
“I’ll wait while you watch a little, okay?”
Michael watched. He couldn’t help himself. It was from about five years ago. They were celebrating another killing. He couldn’t remember which one it was. And looking at himself, so completely out of it, his heart sank. Everything seemed to cave inside of him.
Leaving only terror.
And then one day, they’d strap him to a gurney in a little room and give him a lethal injection.
Fear kited up into his throat, but disciplined himself by thinking,
“So what? Hey you got monster ones, my friend.
Michael’s vocal cords barely got purchase, but he said, “Fuck you.”
“Fuck me? What a terrible thing to say. You just hurt my feelings, friend.”
Michael could barely feel his fingers holding the phone. He could picture the little room at the prison in Florence. There was a window, and people behind the window, and they’d all be peering in at him like kids with their faces to the glass. Like his death was a TV show. But facts were facts. “If I paid you two million dollars, what would stop you from extorting me again and again?”
“Hmmm.” The man paused, then said, “Would you trust my word? I’m a man of my word. You would have to trust me on that.”
Michael said nothing.
“Just a little pressure from my thumb and this goes all over. The first place it goes is to the FBI.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just some of us joking around about killing our parents. A fantasy.”
Another pause. Then, “There are facts to back it up, bro. Peter Farley. The woman in New Zealand. Santa Cruz County and TPD is already on your trail, bud, they’re already looking at you. You think they won’t act on this evidence? You think it won’t show them where and what to investigate? You’re toast, my friend. Unless you pay me to shut up. And I’ll even throw in Jaimie.”
Michael almost hung up. But he couldn’t. His fingers were slippery with sweat now. He clamped harder on the phone.
“Two million, bro. Worth the price of admission, let me tell you.”
But Michael knew this wouldn’t be the end.
Still, he had to do something. “You come here. Bring it. Bring Jaimie. We’ll talk then.”
“Gonna take you some time to work out the details, friend. Put in a call to your bank. I have a number for an account in Belize for you to wire it to. These days, it should take a couple of minutes tops, once you say the word.”
“It’s after hours, bud. Tell you what. You come here and we’ll talk.”
“I’m not going there.”
“Then we’re done here.” And Michael disconnected.
CHAPTER 52
Tess had finished a late dinner when she got the call—searchers had discovered a camping area above Mowry, on a hiking trail in a remote area. There was a stake in the ground and a chain, and footprints that appeared to match the partials they’d seen down below, where the truck had crashed off the side of the road. It looked as if Jaimie had been kidnapped and held there.
Tess thought that was probably true.
Whatever had happened, Jaimie and her kidnapper were gone.
It sounded like a crime scene to Tess. She spoke to the head of the team, a neighbor and a former cop himself, James Tarbel. They agreed that since it was dark, they could easily trample whatever evidence there was. The next day they would send a detective and crime scene techs.
She sat there in the dark, thinking. She was sure it was Wade Poole, sure he had Jaimie. But where were they now? Why did he take her up here?
It had been a temporary hiding place, but it could have been more than that, from the description. She guessed—and she could be wrong about this—he had photographed her to scare her family.
Now she thought she knew why Poole had kidnapped Jaimie.
Poole knew about the family—he knew what they were doing. He’d killed George Hanley because of it. Because they’d disagreed on what to do with the evidence. Hanley wanted to turn it over to the authorities. But he’d made the mistake of letting his old partner, his son-in-law, in on the deal.
Poole didn’t care about bringing the DeKovens to justice.
Tess was pretty sure that all Wade Poole cared about was money.
She got ready for bed, but couldn’t sleep. Finally, she decided to go back to Jaimie’s one more time and see if there was anything to point to where Wade Poole might go next.
It was full dark now, and cold. When Tess drove onto the ranch, she saw immediately that something was different.
Tired. Too much going on.
Tess stared at the spot where the ranch truck had been—the old, root beer—colored GMC.
It was gone.
She stood there, arms crossed, feeling the chill down to her bone. Cold at night in the desert, especially in the spring. The heat was absorbed by the earth and the atmosphere felt thin and chilly. And dark. She heard horses stirring in their stalls, here a grunt and neigh. She had her Maglite and her service weapon, and that was it.
