11 (21 page)

Dr. Joan Young 16 Dr. Erich Halston 21 Frederick Paulus 14

Jude sat back. Studied the comment. Realized that Munson had likely counted the names of psychologists Mia had researched most frequently. The man who’d hired him would need to narrow his focus in his search for a link to Mia. This recovery of her computer information would have helped him do so.

A primitive fury flooded his system, lacing his muscles with tension. The hacker had painstakingly pieced together that mess of numbers that Mia’s wipe of her hard drive would have left in its wake. It would have been tedious work, and the price for it wouldn’t have come cheap. His fingers curled into fists at the visual image of the man laboring over Mia’s laptop. He wouldn’t have cared why his employer who’d hired him wanted the information. Or what he planned to do with it. Like Tuttle, Munson just cared about being paid.

Had the man also examined Halston’s computer? It seemed logical. It would have been child’s play compared to restoring the wiped information on Mia’s. That a man had died in the process of its theft wouldn’t have been a factor to Munson. Jude had met the man. If he’d ever possessed scruples they’d been ground out long ago.

So. He took a deep breath to dissipate the anger that could cloud reason. The chain was starting to make sense. Tuttle with the drugs and eventually the TASER. Which linked to Munson with the computer know-how and the pass through mail drop for the drugs. Then the trail to Eldon Weale, who collected the drugs in South Dakota.

With renewed determination he began narrowing his focus to finding clues that would lead them to Weale. Email seemed the most likely place to start. The password on Munson’s account was better than decent and had Jude swearing under his breath for most of an hour before he finally cracked it. The man used a proxy web service, of course, to disguise where his emails originated. But many of his correspondents did not. Jude was able to look up most of the geographical locations of the IP addresses utilized by the sender of the messages.

It didn’t take long to discover several cryptic emails from Eldon Weales. They revealed no useful information, Jude realized, scrolling through them. Codes for a drug order for Munson to pass on, maybe? He had more luck when he dug into the IP address on Weales’ messages. It wasn’t a South Dakota address to match the one listed on the registration for the mail drop the man used. It listed the man as residing in Davison, Nebraska.

He tapped the table in front of the keyboard as he thought swiftly. IP addresses could be spoofed to make it appear as though they came from somewhere else. Knowing this, he swiftly readjusted his plans. Binton, South Dakota wasn’t going to be his next stop, after all.

They were heading to Davison, Nebraska.

* * * *

“Anthony!”

The sharp tone snapped him out of his reverie. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was lost in thought.” He couldn’t concentrate on the mindless details for the upcoming customer appreciation party. Who could blame him? He was drowning in a well of depression and anger. The story of the woman falling to her death in Coopers Rock State Forest had been easy to find in the forty-eight hours since he’d spoken to Eleven.

The name of the victim hadn’t been released. Without checking his records, Anthony couldn’t be certain of Four’s given name himself. Because it was meaningless. He’d tagged her, much as they marked the priceless pieces for sale on the floor of their antiquities showroom. She hadn’t had a value until her selection and he’d taught her the true meaning of her existence.

And now she was gone in the most final way possible. The way Eight had been. He’d thought he’d known true grief then. But Eight’s replacement had eventually healed his loss. Four’s death left a void that wouldn’t be as easily filled. She’d been the first item he’d collected and thought of nothing but pleasing him. None of his other possessions came close to her slavish devotion.

“You’ve drifted away again.” With a no-nonsense click of spiked heels on the marble floor, Mother approached to lay a hand on his forehead, a look of concern on her elegant features. “You don’t seem to have a temperature, but I’m not convinced you’re fully recovered from that bug you had a couple days ago when you went to Atlanta.”

“I’m fine.” He tried to work up a smile for her. “Maybe just a little blue.”

“Well, you certainly have nothing to be depressed about darling. Those candelabra were a marvelous find. I’m half inclined to keep it for myself.”

He knew she wouldn’t. The antique, while exquisite, wasn’t the type of thing she was drawn to. And the money it would fetch was too attractive. “Maybe I am still a little under the weather,” he lied. He returned his attention to the spreadsheet of guest names, accommodation details, and menu. They’d kept in mind the tastes of their most valued clients when they’d finalized it. Frankly he found the incessant fussing over trivialities exasperating at the best of times.

He was hardly in the mood for a big celebration in a couple days. But bringing in some of their most valued customers every summer gave them a chance to preview the Davis Antiquities fall catalog and whet interest for the annual auction. The business his grandfather had started would never be on the level of a Christies. But what they lacked in volume they made up for with meticulous client care and an eye toward the rare and unusual.

He’d turned that same eye toward selecting items for his own collection.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go in to work today.” A frown marred Mother’s face, the only line that dared to settle there. “Stay home and go over the details with me.”

He’d rather take a knife to the chest. Forcing a smile, he reminded her, “Everything on the showroom floor has to be perfect. You know many of our guests will want to tour it the day after the party.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” He turned and headed toward the front door. “But an afternoon nap would do you wonders, dear. You push yourself much too hard.”

Mother was correct, as usual. He jogged down the steps to his car, which had been brought around for him this morning. Maybe he’d leave work early, spend several hours tending to his collection. He’d neglected it recently. Thirteen wasn’t going to train herself, and the others required regular tending, to prevent a return of bad habits.

Getting into the car, he felt a trifle better at the thought. But as he drove down the curved drive he knew that resuming his daily routine wouldn’t be enough to shake off this unusual lethargy. Perhaps only one thing would do that.

Eleven’s return to her rightful place.

12

“Davison, Nebraska.” Mia read from her iPhone as Hunter drove. “Population nine thousand four hundred thirty-two, as of the 2010 census. Home to the Fox County seat, and situated…” she squinted, stretching the image so she could read it better. “…second county over from the Wyoming border, and bordering South Dakota to the north.” There was a buzz of excitement in her veins, mingled with trepidation. Jude had filled them in on what he’d discovered so far on Munson’s computer, and the reason for switching their focus from Binton, South Dakota. The picture he’d shown her of Eldon Weale, from his foray into the Nebraska DMV showed a man who was startlingly ordinary. An inch shorter than she’d described for the police. Ten pounds lighter. Brown hair. Brown eyes.

Were they the eyes of a soulless monster? Mia had spent a long time looking at the picture, her flesh prickling all the while. Because of course she couldn’t be sure.

Wasn’t that always what the neighbors said when they discovered a nearby resident had committed an atrocity?
He seemed so ordinary. Just a regular guy
. Eldon Weale was someone she could pass on the street and never even notice. Which would be a handy quality for a serial kidnapper to possess.

Jude had told her about a piece of an endangered plant found with Jody Wilcox’s body. Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Nebraska and North Dakota. Mia had the states memorized. They were the only ones where the plant was found, so one of them must be the state where she died. And Eldon Weale was in Nebraska.

Jude turned away from his laptop then to look at her in the back seat. She met his gaze blandly. It wouldn’t do for him to realize how jumpy she was feeling. Not after the conversation they’d had this morning. “I’m going to hold you to the promise you made earlier.” Mia nodded. The moment Jude had reason to suspect that Weale was more than just another conduit to the drugs Tuttle shipped, she and Hunter would head back to Denver and take the next plane to DC. In return she’d extracted a concession from him; if they left, Jude would have another operative fly out to join him.

The fear she was beginning to feel for his safety wasn’t logical. If ever there was a man who exuded a reassuring capable toughness, it was Jude Bishop. But the fear was there, an insidious growing weight that had lodged in her chest and showed no signs of lessening.

“Weale has no criminal record, according to what I’m finding online. Not even a traffic ticket. But I’ve got an address that matches the one on his license.” He’d also gotten the exact location the man’s emails had originated from through a discreet probe of the ISP provider’s server. He was certain it would come in handy locating the man.

Mia set the phone down to focus on the scenery flashing by her window at a significantly faster pace than what was posted on the speed limit signs. Lots of plains, which she’d expected, interrupted by occasional large rock formations, which she had not. The reading she’d done earlier had mentioned cattle ranching and farming, with the most frequently grown agricultural products being forage crops and wheat. Could she have been running across fields of either crop when she’d escaped? Racing over pastureland? It seemed possible.

But the other possible states would not be so different from Nebraska. With a tinge of frustration, Mia recognized that she wasn’t going to be able to narrow the The Collector’s location through geography alone.

“You figured out yet how you’re going to handle the approach?” Hunter had volunteered to drive to free up Jude to do research. Mia suspected the man really just enjoyed being behind the wheel.

“I want to get a feel for the place first.” Jude straightened in his seat, facing forward again. “Every small town has its own unique social system in place. I’m guessing I can learn a lot just by asking the right questions. I’ll determine my approach from there. I’m most worried about the security at the hotel you booked.”

“Only three to choose from. One is surprisingly decent for a town that size. Built five years ago, the webpage said. It was our best bet.” The operative fiddled with the radio controls on the steering wheel. Settled on a country station that had Mia smiling.

“My ears are already bleeding,” Jude said in a pained voice. “Is that the only station that comes in?”

“I would never have figured you for a country fan, Hunter.”

The operative caught Mia’s eye in the rearview mirror and winked. “Guess people are always full of surprises.”

They were, she thought bleakly. Which was what made it so difficult to figure out which ones harbored evil.

* * * *

Hunter was right. The Davison, as the hotel was called would suit their needs well enough. Apparently it suited the needs of a great many people because the rooms were completely booked.

“It’s for an event in town, sir,” the girl behind the counter offered sympathetically. “A local business is having its annual customer appreciation gala tomorrow, and the majority of the guests come from out of state.”

“What about a suite with a fold out?” Hunter would bitch, but it would be better than nothing.

“I’m sorry. All I have is the VIP suite, which offers a large sitting or conference area with two bedrooms, one on each side of it. Double beds in both. It’s quite nice.” When she quoted the price, Jude stared hard at her, certain she was joking. “How is it you can charge DC prices in a town of nine thousand?”

With a fixed smile she turned back to her computer. “Let me see what I can do.” In the end she lowered the price from the stratospheric range to the merely ridiculous. Shaking his head, Jude offered a credit card issued for the ID he’d used in Denver and went back to the car to accompany Hunter and Mia to the room.

“Nice digs.” Hunter took a quick look in both bedrooms before dropping his bag in one. “Lots of room in the sitting area to resume Mia’s poker lessons.”

“Lots of room for the computer equipment,” she corrected. “Before Jude leaves he’s going to teach me the rudiments for cracking the encryption on Munson’s files.”

Amused, he started toward the other bedroom carrying both their bags. “I am?”

“It makes sense.” She followed closely on his heels. “I can be doing something useful while you’re out. We can kill two birds with one stone.”

He set their luggage on the low dresser. Her idea had merit. He’d figured out Munson’s encryption methods. It would just be a matter of demonstrating them and letting her try her hand at the files. If successful, it would save him work when he got back. “Okay. Hunter can go unload the computer equipment and bring it up.”

“That’s one of the burdens of being so incredibly brawny,” the operative said as he passed by the door. “I get to do all the heavy lifting.”

There was the sound of the door closing. Mia’s face was troubled. “If I promise to chain myself to the couch would you consider taking Hunter with you today?”

Jude’s mouth curled. “You sick of him already?”

She jerked her shoulders and wandered through the room, trailing a hand over the dresser where he’d set their bags. Since their shopping trip she’d ditched the jeans and tee shirts and was in a pair of white capris that hugged her legs and butt, and a green filmy top. With a purely male’s sense of appreciation he applauded the change. “It seems a waste is all. The two of you could cover more ground together.”

“There’s not all that much ground to cover in a town of less than ten thousand people.”

“You know what I mean.”

He sat down on the corner of one of the beds. Something was on her mind. Something far different from an argument about her security detail. “What’s this about?”

She turned, arrowed a look at him. “This will be the third day in a row that you’ve tackled a suspect on your own. I’ve been learning a lot about the law of averages from Hunter’s gambling lessons. At some point your luck is going to run out.”

“I don’t know. I’ve always considered myself a pretty lucky guy.”

Her expression was somber. “I’m serious. It’s been a long time since I worried about someone’s well being. It’s as if…” She searched for words for a moment. “All the feelings most people have…they’ve been locked away. Like in a vault. Fear, hunger, pain, boredom. Those are my normal. The others take some getting used to. I don’t want to worry about you. Don’t give me reason to.”

Heat bloomed in the pit of his belly. “Ditto.”

She pursed her lips. Narrowed her eyes. “It’s not the same. I’ve got a protective detail. A very brawny operative, to use his own words. You go out there alone each time.”

He waggled his fingers in a c’mere motion. Her hesitation was visible before she slowly walked over to him. Spreading his knees, he hooked an arm around her hips. Pulled her closer. “The correct response in this pose is for you to put your arms around my neck. Not my throat,” he added, only half-jokingly.

There was a playfulness in her expression he’d never seen. Her hands slid around his shoulders. Her fingers clasped there. “We’ll make a pact. Neither of us will do anything stupidly dangerous for at least the next twelve hours.”

Cocking her head, Mia finally nodded. “Not a terribly difficult promise for me, but okay.”

“All right.” When she went to move away, he held her in place. “It’s customary to seal a bargain after it’s been struck.”

Her eyes glinting, she lowered her head toward his. “I think I know what you mean,” she breathed against his lips. A moment later she stuck out her little finger. “Pinky swear?”

Humor filled him. Just when he thought he was getting to know her on some level, she showed him facets he hadn’t seen previously. He wondered if she just kept them closely guarded, or if her rigid reserve was finally thawing. Whichever it was, the results were fascinating.

He hooked her finger with his. “Pinky swear.”

* * * *

The more Jude drove around the burg that was Davison, Nebraska, the more he was reminded of the place where he’d grown up. Not with his grandfather. That stay had lasted less than two years and carried no pleasant memories. But the foster home he’d landed in had been all right. More than all right. Decent people who had seen him through the long months of surgeries and the pain of recovery. Burnsville, Maine, was half a continent away, but it had enough in common with Davison to give him a sense of déjà vu.

The town’s main street was long and wide, perhaps designed back in the day when they’d needed to accommodate horses and buggies. There were a handful of empty storefronts, an affliction of many small rural towns in America, but most of the shops were occupied and painted in cheerful colors. An old-fashioned movie theater marquis quoted a cover price of two dollars for the nightly show. An ice cream shop was squeezed next to it, flanked by a large hardware store on the other side.

A few blocks away were a public library, fire station and police department, all looking relatively new. A chain convenience gas station sat directly across the street from one that appeared privately owned. A man was standing in front of the price sign holding a long pole, a pile of plastic numbers at his feet. Without much thought, Jude pulled into an empty space in front of a pump and got out to gas up, despite the rental being half full.

With the nozzle in the gas tank and switched on, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and ambled over to the man. “Prices set to go up or down?”

“Down. That seems to be the way things are going around here these days.” He lowered his pole. Short, with a scruffy beard and a shirt emblazoned with ‘Steve’ in unraveling red embroidery above the left pocket, he seemed friendly enough, if a bit resigned.

“You the owner?”

“For now. Until this price war puts me out of business.”

Jude’s gaze traveled beyond him to the convenience store across the street. “No way you can meet their prices when you don’t get the bulk discount.”

“Tell me about it.” He’d obviously touched on a sore subject. “We’ve got another one like it out by the Interstate but this one is killing me. If it weren’t for the repair part of my business, I’d have gone under months after this one opened.” He scratched the back of his head. “You from town or just passing through?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by and look up an old friend. Eldon Weale. You know him?”

Steve hooked another number with his pole and reached up to affix it to the sign. Price was about to drop ten cents, Jude noted. “Yeah, I know Eldon. I’ve done some work for him. Decent guy. How’d you say you know him?”

“Grew up together.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re not far from his place. He lives on Spruce.” The man lowered the pole again for another number and repeated the maneuver. “Won’t be home now, of course. He’ll still be at work.”

Jude cast a glance over his shoulder. His rental would be done filling now, but he had a feeling that Steve wasn’t done talking. “Where’s that?”

“Only place he’s ever worked, far as I know. He’s a buyer at Davis’.” At Jude’s expression the man said, “Sorry. I’m talking about Davis Fine Antiquities. Used to be on Main Street when I was a kid, but now they’ve got a big fancy place south of town. Their ancestors settled this area and they don’t let anyone forget it.”

Finished with his task, he obviously thought better of his verbiage and shot Jude a glance. “Sorry. They’re the ones who put up that bastard across the street.” He nodded to the convenience station. “Built the new hotel too, to house the customers that travel from who knows where to Nowhere, Nebraska. Along with driving the fundraisers for the fire department, police station, library and ball diamonds. Eldon’s done well for himself working for them.” He headed back toward the station. “Heard tell he bought himself a place in Jackson Hole. He’s quite a fisherman. ’Course you probably know that.”

“I remember,” Jude lied. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at the property records for Jackson, Wyoming. He was familiar enough with the area to know that it housed some extremely expensive real estate. He wondered for the first time where in Wyoming that mineshaft was located.