3 Lies (19 page)

Clint tried again to get her on the boat, but she waved him away. He resigned himself to her exhibition. Fortunately, no one else was around. He went topside to read his restraining order. He hid his phone, so Paige wouldn’t see it. She’d had his number long enough.

Five hundred feet away from the house or place of residence. One hundred feet away from Hizzoner’s almighty car. At least Clint wasn’t listed as a violent man. Merely a stalker. The seven-page notice crumpled into an unsatisfying, loose wad.

Paige stared at him from the dock while she continued to talk on the phone. “Hang on.” She moved the phone from her ear. “Let’s go. They can take our samples right now, and you can apologize to me in less than twenty-four hours.” She postured to emphasize her confidence.

The acid in his stomach flowered. There wasn’t any value in arguing with her. He wanted it done. He wanted to know. He owed it to Beth. Or his baby. “Let’s go.”

Clint left Louie at the boat to nap and followed Paige into town. He struggled to keep up with her BMW M6. She disappeared around curves and over several hills only to reappear on his horizon.

They got to the doctor’s office and went inside. Doctor Ritchie Compton hadn’t changed much since Clint saw him last. His nose still curved down, and his chin curved up. Over the years, they’d grown closer. Clint figured by the time Ritchie was in his eighties, the two would finally meet.

“Clint. It’s good to see you.”

“Ritchie.”

They shook hands. Uncharacteristically, Paige said nothing.

“Paige explained the procedure to you?”

“No. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“I see. Your part is quite simple. We swab your cheek and send it to the lab.”

“What’s Paige’s part?” He hadn’t considered this before. “How can you test the baby? It’s still so small.”

“We take a sample of the placental tissue.”

“And how do you go about getting that?”

“We locate the placenta via ultrasound then use a catheter to suction a sample.”

“Won’t that hurt the baby?”

“It does induce a higher risk for the baby, but the same sample can be used for genetic testing which Paige already requested.”

“Genetic testing. For what?”

Her glare singed the hairs at his collar. “What do you think? I want to make sure it’s normal.”

His neck throbbed. “What do you mean
normal
? What if it’s not?”

“Then your problem is gone.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You wanted this.” Her voice got louder.

The other staff dipped their heads.

“All you need to do is get your mouth swabbed. We can talk when we get the results.”

Clint looked to Ritchie for support.

He rearranged his stethoscope. “She’s right, Clint. I need to get Paige prepared for the ultrasound. Beverly.” A young woman in colorful scrubs scurried over. “Take Mr. Masters, please. We just need a swab from his cheek.”

“Go ahead, Clint, You’ll be out of here in two minutes.” Ritchie escorted Paige into an exam room and left him alone in the fog.

One swab. Two minutes. Then he’s out.

Or he’s a father.

Inexorably linked to Paige.

Clint wandered out to the truck. The sunrays fueled his stamping headache. He opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat for ten minutes before starting the engine.

Regret pricked his soul. Over Paige. Over Beth. Over coming to Dr. Ritchie’s slimy gyny office. The ooze stuck to him. His baby deserved better.

He drove off in a fog. In twenty-four hours, he’d know. Then his brain could pound on the options. In the mean time, he had phone calls to make.

A small neighborhood ballpark offered a quiet place to make his calls and let his nerves settle. Clint got out of the car and sat on the third tier of the bleachers. Beth’s neighbor Janet answered on the third ring. She reported that the police aggressively patrolled the area the night before which he already knew. Janet seemed to like all the attention.

Clint left his new cell number in a voice mail for Avi. The investigator in Los Angeles said he expected to have more information later in the day. But the detective from Chicago lit the fire.

“We’ve got something.”

“On who? Where?”

“Romerino in Miami. My associate confirmed that the justice’s former law partner has been missing for at least two days. It’s not common knowledge. He travels a lot, and he’s a widower, so there’s not a great clamor about his absence. He doesn’t practice law anymore, but their families remained quite close.”

“Why do you think he’s missing?”

“One of the neighbors saw him three days ago. No one has seen him since. He usually takes a cab to the airport on his trips, and there’s no record of any pick-ups in the area.”

“Is that all?”

“He’s supposed to walk his daughter down the aisle this month. The tuxedo rental shop hasn’t seen him for his final fitting. He was due exactly two days ago, and he’s not the kind of man to miss appointments.”

“What about his daughter?”

“She lives out-of-state.” The Chicago PI paused. “Delaware. I’ve got people checking on her. I’ll keep you posted.”

Three of nine justices had a relative missing. It was an extraordinary coincidence.

He called the PI from New York.

The Brooklyn accent came out in spurts. “Good, it’s you. Look. I got a hit on justice Villanova.”

“Are you sure?”

“He left his house yesterday morning and raced over to a small town in Vermont. Nearly hit a kid on a bike.”

“Who lives in Vermont?”

“His brother-in-law runs a small dairy up there. The sister died some years back. He stays at the dairy a week at a time. Villanova met with the dairy manager for over an hour. He was highly agitated. No one’s seen the owner in three days.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Have the police been called?”

“There are 212 people in the whole town. The police know. There’s no report though. The brother-in-law has no family in the area.”

The news strengthened Clint’s conviction, but it didn’t feel like victory.

“There’s more. You still with me?”

The paste in his mouth made it hard to talk. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees. “Yeah.”

“We may have a hit with Oberman in Pittsburgh. My associate is confirming it now.” The PI paused. “Look. I don’t know what you know, but I have an active imagination. You know?” The man’s voice was scratchy. “I like going to the Bronx Zoo. You like zoos?”

Clint stood up, wiping his free hand down the front of his jeans. “What’s your point?”

“I remember going there as a kid and watching the guy feed the tiger. They always locked the tiger out of the feeding area before putting any food in. The guy’s no yutz, he knows. One swipe of a paw, and the tiger’s lapping his guts.” The New York PI paused. “Looks like you’ve got this one by the whiskers. Be careful.”

Careful.

Four, maybe five, of the nine Supreme Court justices now connected to a missing person. It didn’t matter what Abe told Blake, somebody kidnapped Beth for more than money. Somebody wanted a vote. Or to settle an old score. Somebody kidnapped a child, put an old man in the hospital, and deprived a beautiful woman of life-saving equipment to get a vote.

The cases decided by the Supreme Court floated the hopes of millions. And ground an equal number into the dirt. Clint began to envy the man that fed the tiger.

That man knew exactly what to fear.

Maxine taught Emmy a doodling game while Beth watched. Since making the paper toys, Emmy now considered the plus-size Maxine a worthy playmate. But she kept Beth within touching distance.

“We need to locate the cameras in the room, so we can block their view when we hide the note.” Beth spoke without moving her lips. She prodded her legs with her fingers.

“Are they numb?” Vonda eased closer to Beth.

“Not yet. My feet still tingle, like when you first move them after they’ve fallen asleep. It hurts and tickles at the same time.”

“You poor dear.” Vonda laid a hand on her knee.

Beth eked a smile. “Pain is actually a good thing. Pain means I can still feel.” She tugged down her pink thermal shirt. After three days’ wearing, she no longer counted it her favorite.

She marveled at the care these women showed her. Maybe it was the shared set of fears. Her mother never doted on her when she was sick even when that was the best of medicines. Her mother treated physical frailty as something contagious.

“Maxine’s got the note. I added the Morse code alphabet, or at least my version of it. If we can get the note over to the others, maybe we can communicate.” Vonda tried to keep her lips still as she spoke, but it looked like she was chewing. “We’re due another meal fairly soon.”

“They make cameras so small these days.” Beth glanced around the room. “I suppose it could be in the walls. I’ve looked at the sconces over the bed. Those seem clean. Maybe it’s in one by the door.”

Vonda stepped over to the sconce by the door. She pretended to stretch—and in their cramped quarters it was a good idea. With her right hand wrapped around her other wrist, she put both her arms overhead and bent at the waist to the right as far as she could without hitting the wall. She switched arms and stretched the other way before rejoining Beth on the couch.

“I don’t see anything that looks out of place. Where else could it be?”

The gentle motion of the ship’s sway intensified. Based on the shape and size of the stateroom, Beth estimated the ship to be over fifty foot. A ship that size required ocean-sized swells to rock it. the motion would only lull her to sleep.

Her abdominal muscles clenched. Gastric fluid washed her throat. The retching sound stuttered as her stomach convulsed.

Vonda rushed over with the trashcan and put it beneath Beth’s face. She pulled back Beth’s long locks and twisted them into a loose knot to keep it out of the way. Beth emptied her belly into the stainless steel bucket. The acrid smell hit her like a wall, sending another wave into the bucket.

“Eewww!” Emmy covered her head with a blanket. Maxine went to her side.

Vonda got a glass of water and a wet cloth from the bathroom. She wiped Beth’s face while Beth panted over the trashcan.

“Here. Rinse your mouth.”

Vonda lifted the glass to Beth’s lips. Beth eyed her thanks to the ebony woman. Pain pushed out the last of the nausea.

A rattling from the door announced the arrival of one of their guards. Maxine and Emmy sat frozen on the floor. The captor with the green ski mask opened the door.

“Is she seasick? There are seasickness medicines in the lavatory.”

Beth couldn’t catch her breath to answer.

“She’s not seasick.” Vonda showed open disgust for the man. “It’s one of the symptoms she warned you people about. She needs medical help.”

“The effort to get her machine was not successful. We do have provisions for the child.”

He handed several bags to Maxine. Even though she reached, her trembling arms weren’t ready for the load. The bags thudded on the floor as if filled with solid rock.

Vonda squared off with him. “What do you mean you don’t have the machine?” She stomped to the bathroom and rinsed out the trashcan.

“We are discussing the options.” He backed out into the hallway. “Your breakfast will be along shortly.”

Four days—or five—now? The impurities storm-troopered Beth’s blood stream. She couldn’t hold them off much longer.

The ransom.

Clint was so wealthy, but it never mattered before. Maybe to her mother, but not to Beth. They spent almost nothing when they were together. Money wasn’t part of the attraction. She blushed to think what these men asked of him. There were no guarantees Clint would pay it. Part of her prayed he wouldn’t.

Beth’s chin began to twitch, and her eyes stung. She clasped her hand over her mouth to keep it still and lay back on the pillow.

Vonda wiped Beth’s forehead again.

She couldn’t do this. Not now. The camera. If she found it, they may be able to get a message out of the room without being seen. It had to be mounted high to get a good vantage point. Beth focused on the scant features of the room.

The walls of the room had an utilitarian touch. Their captors jettisoned anything with personality for this voyage. Only the sconces and the smoke detectors remained.

Maybe, it was in the walls. Or hidden in the sconces somehow. Or the smoke detectors.

The small room had two. Two— In a room this size?

She rolled to her side and whispered into Vonda’s ear. “Vonda. Would you please check the smoke detectors? There’s no reason this room should have two.”

She heard the rustling of the bags for Emmy. Maxine explained to the child that Beth had a sick tummy and needed rest. Maxine pulled a doll from the bag, untwisted several wires, and released it from its cardboard cage.

Emmy scooted over to Beth.

“Hi, Beff. Mazey’s tummy hurts too.” She put the doll in the crook of Beth’s arm. “You can both go night-night.”

Warmth oozed through, unwinding every tense knot in her body. This child was someone’s amazing little girl. But Emmy was missing from their arms. How those parents must ache.

Maybe one day, she and Clint—

Beth wiped her face. “Thank you, Emmy, the Brave and the Smart.”

Emmy patted Beth’s shoulder and went back to the floor with Maxine.

From the wall, Vonda shot a discreet thumbs-up. The suppressed smile would have communicated on its own. She’d located the camera.

Vonda pushed the ottoman against the wall and stepped onto it. The ceiling’s height topped at about six and half feet. She fake-stretched again, to demonstrate their newfound stealth. This time forward waist bends worked her hamstrings. Even at her height, she easily blocked the camera’s view.

Vonda jumped down from the cushion. “Maxine.”

Maxine joined her next to Beth.

“Okay. They can see from that camera, and it shoots out this direction.” Vonda gestured to the area. “They can’t see in the bathroom, thank God. I’ve already checked in there. As soon as he comes in with our trays, I’m going to get on the ottoman to limber up. Beth, you’ll need to keep him busy while Maxine slips the note in their food.”