A Rush to Violence (12 page)

Beth turned to look at him. He was older than her mother, a tall, fit man with silver hair and a summer’s tan. Everything about him reeked of affluence. Until now, Beth never had appreciated it or him. She thought he was a snob. She didn’t like him because of the way he influenced her mother, who now lunched with the right people, had her paintings showcased at the right galleries and who dressed in elegant ways that were a vast change from her hippie days, when she wore billowing silk skirts and simple T-shirts. But now? Now, Jack just looked plain rich and Beth almost loved him for it. For the first time since she’d known him, she thanked God he had money and that he
looked
as if he had money.

“We can best whatever you’re being paid,” he said.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Why?” Brian Moore said. “All of us have money. You’ve seen where we live. Money isn’t an issue. We can pay you whatever you want and agree to forget this happened.”

“But you won’t. That’s the problem.”

“It’s in our best interests to be quiet,” Jack said. “We’ll give you what you want and go back to our lives. Nobody needs to know.”

“Now you’re sounding like a bad movie.”

“We just want to be safe,” Gloria said.

“I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

“Would you? If it’s just money—”

“It’s not just the money.”

“But if money would make a difference, there’s a lot of money sitting right in front of you. Millions. We’ll pay you what you want. At the very least, you should consider that.”

“I’m getting tired of your mouths,” he said. “Just sit there and shut up. It was quiet here a moment ago. Almost relaxing. Let’s keep it that way until decisions are made on what we do with you.”

“Is there a bathroom down here?” Beth asked.

“Why? You gotta go?”

She wasn’t ready to explore the basement just yet. She was still checking out the room, still seeking a world’s worth of courage and the right thing to grab from the workbench when she found it.

She had an advantage nobody else in this room had but she and Katie. People didn’t take kids their age seriously. As far as he was concerned, she knew she wasn’t the threat. The adults were. That gave her an edge. “I will in a bit.”

“Then ask me then. Yes, there’s a bathroom down here, so don’t shit your pants worrying about it.” He laughed at his own joke. “Literally.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Marty stood in his office, his cell phone at his ear. Jennifer stood in front of him, her hands on her hips and a worried look on her face. Usually, she was a portrait of calm. But not now. He’d never seen her like this. But then he knew she’d come to love his daughters as if they were her own.

While Carr spoke, Marty controlled his rage. In his mind’s eye, he was having thoughts no one should have if they didn’t want to spend the next thirty years in prison. But he couldn’t reveal them now. He needed to listen to what Carr had to say and see if he gave anything away.

“Mr. Spellman, the simple fact is that you’re lucky all of them aren’t dead. First, you break our deal by hiring men to protect your current wife. Now, you do it again by involving your ex-wife.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did and my patience with you has just about run out. You told your ex what was unfolding. She involved your friends the Moores and told them what was happening. She did all this on her cell phone. You’d think having you as her ex-husband would wise her up to the fact that cell phones can be traced and easily hacked so people like me can listen to the conversations. Did you think we wouldn’t be listening since she has custody of your children, one of whom will be dead in two days?”

He waited for an answer but Marty didn’t have one. Of course, Gloria knew better. She hadn’t taken this as seriously as she should have, probably because she’d been through similar situations with him countless times before. Each time had amounted to nothing because he’d been able to manage the situation. She likely thought the same was true this time.

“Now that we have your family and the Moores tucked away until you do your goddamned job and find Camille Miller, you can focus on that task until the first girl dies. Then what I’ve predicted all along will come true—you’ll really focus. You’ll finally get it together and take this seriously. I’ve told you that from the start. Your real focus will come after the first death, which you still can prevent if you find Camille in time. It’s up to you. The trouble is that you don’t have much longer. If this doesn’t motivate you, the death of one of your daughters will.”

Before Marty could speak, the line went dead.

Jennifer asked him what was said. He told her.

“Marty, I’m sorry.”

“You said you could find us a place.”

“I can.”

“Find one.” He fished the magnet and tape out of his pocket and opened his shirt so he could get to the chip. “Get your things. Turn off your cell. This apartment is no longer safe. We leave in twenty minutes.”

* * *

They left in fifteen.

When they arrived at the apartment on Seventy-Second and Park, Marty was certain they hadn’t been followed. At least not to this door. Someone from Carr’s “army” may have tried to follow them, but it was unlikely that they succeeded. He and Jennifer had changed cabs three times. They moved around the city in ways that made no sense while giving each driver a considerable incentive to bust through traffic lights and drive as fast as they could before finally stopping here.

Marty looked out the rear window the entire time. If someone followed them, he wasn’t aware of it.

“The Chens called ahead,” Jennifer said, removing a duffel bag from the cab and stepping onto the sidewalk. “The doorman is expecting us. We show him our IDs. He gives us a key.”

It was twilight. In the sun’s absence, the sky was turning deep purple and the surrounding buildings were beginning to punch blocks of light into the encroaching night. Soon it would be dark.

Marty grabbed his own bag and the other containing his computer, and joined Jennifer on the sidewalk. They showed their IDs to the doorman, Jennifer got the key that was awaiting them and they were allowed inside an elegant lobby that was large, warm and inviting. They took the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor, stepped out and went to the corner apartment at the end of the hall. Inside it was pristine, an almost utilitarian space that had no use for clutter.

“They’re here only in the spring,” Jennifer said, looking around the apartment as they moved into it. “So they obviously have somebody clean for them, because this is ridiculous. They’ve been gone for months and still the air is fresh.”

Each flipped on lights as they walked through the apartment, which had three bedrooms, two baths, a custom kitchen, a swank living room with dramatic views of the city, and an office.

Marty set up shop there.

He put his computer on a glass table while Jennifer came behind him with a piece of paper. She handed it to him. “That’s the code to their wireless, which obviously can’t be traced back to you. We are free to search the Internet and gather information on the Millers without Carr or his men knowing we’re doing so. Yes, I thought of everything.”

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“You’re under a lot of stress. I get it. But I’m here to help. Try to remember that.” She nodded behind her. “The fridge has a few things in it. Not much, but there’s some frozen food and bottles of water. Do you want something?”

He pulled out his computer, plugged it into a wall socket and opened the lid. “Water would be good.”

“I’ll set up in the smaller bedroom.”

“What are you setting up?”

“My computer. It’s getting dark. I’m assuming tomorrow is going to be busy. What do you need accomplished tonight?”

There were two things. First, he needed to call Detective Mike Hines and find out if he got anything on Carr. Second, he needed to gather information on the rest of Kenneth Miller’s children. He needed to know who they were, what they did for a living (if anything) and where they lived now. With her skills, Jennifer could nail that information quickly.

He told her what he was looking for. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Are you serious?”

When she came back a moment later with a bottle of water, he saw the concerned look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you still wearing the magnet? If we’re gone too long—”

“I don’t need the magnet anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I dug out the chip. It’s back at the apartment, where they think we are because the chip is on my desk. Tonight is going to be longer and more intense than you think. It’s just turning dark now. The sooner I talk to Hines and the sooner we have the information on the Millers, the sooner we can act.”

“What are you planning?”

“To protect my children.”

“What about Camille?”

“My children come first.”

She tried to keep the frustration from her voice, but couldn’t. “I need to know what you’re thinking. You need to start communicating with me. If we don’t find Camille, they will kill one of the girls.”

“Not if we find them first.”

“And how do you propose we do that? We don’t know where they are. He could have them anywhere. They could be out of state by now.”

He told her how and watched her face darken. If she was frustrated with him before, she was incredulous now.

“Are you serious? What if they’re there with them? Those people would be armed. They’d make phone calls. It would put them all at risk.”

“What choice do I have?”

“You’ve got contacts all over this city. So do I. We use them to find her.”

“Camille Miller is a skilled assassin, Jennifer. If she’s gone underground, no one is going to find her.”

“Am I missing something here? She came to New York because they contested the will. She won. Why would she go underground?”

“
Because
she won.
Because
they lost. They’re running out of money. She knows it. I’ve already told you there’s a provision in the will that says that if she and Emma die, Camille’s siblings get the money. Unless she left the city by car and took a flight out of another state, she’s been in the city the entire week. Probably plotting. I think she knows they’re coming after her. I think she’s planning to take them out before they do the same to her and her daughter. It makes sense for her to do it in New York because this is where they all live. One-stop killing. If she went back to Paris, she’d be looking over her shoulder every five minutes, wondering when they’d come.”

“You’re pulling a lot out of your ass, Marty.”

“You got something better?”

“When it comes to finding her? Absolutely. We use our contacts. We cast a net. We give it twenty-four hours and see if it works. If she’s in the city or anywhere near the city, someone will have seen her. Or they will see her. If nothing turns up, maybe then we take your approach. But only if we have to. I think what you’re considering is a mistake.”

 “Canvassing the city for twenty-four hours is a waste of time. I’m telling you, we need to go forward with my plan.”

“Do you really think you’re the only one looking for her? Carr’s men are on the streets right now. They’re also searching. It might not even be us who finds her. It might be one of them. Or if we’re lucky, it could be one of our contacts. Or maybe even us. You’ve got to give this a chance. Your idea is radical.”

“But it will work.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know where they are or what they’ll do. Give this twenty-four hours. Then, if we have nothing else, we’ll consider your angle.”

He ran a hand through his hair and thought it through. This was the precise reason he worked alone. He knew his idea would work. Yes, it was a risk.  Yes, they could be there and be armed.  But he felt fairly confident that if played well, he could pull it off. Jennifer’s idea could work, but only if Camille and her daughter were visible on the streets. If they weren’t, if they were holed up somewhere and hadn’t moved, then no one had seen them recently and Jennifer’s idea was a bust.

He thought back to what Roberta said. When he asked where Camille was, Roberta saw the tip of Manhattan. She didn’t know if it was from the Brooklyn side or from the Jersey side, but she did see the tip and she said she was seeing it because Camille Miller could see it.

Camille had to be living somewhere. On either side of the tip of Manhattan were residential neighborhoods. If she rented an apartment or if she was staying with a friend, at some point she must have been seen, even if it was only fleetingly. But was fleeting enough? Probably not.

What intrigued Marty is that Roberta also said that Camille was now a blonde. Why had she changed her hair color? It wasn’t out of vanity. The obvious answer is that she was planning something. She was going undercover. Her siblings had contested the will. They failed. She’s no fool. She knows they’re desperate and might do anything to get their hands on that money. Is she planning to take them out to protect herself and her daughter? Maybe. And if that’s the case, then she could be on the streets. At some point, she will act, which increases the chances of her being seen.

He looked at Jennifer. “All right,” he said. “Twenty-four hours. That’s all I’m giving it.”

“I think you’ve made the right choice.”

He didn’t answer, because he wasn’t sure that he had and he didn’t want to insult her. “We need to find out where the Miller siblings live and who they are. Then I’ll give you a web address that has a photograph of Camille and Emma. Send that address to your contacts. Tell them that Camille is likely blonde now and either living in Brooklyn or Jersey. Tell them that she’s close enough to the water to see the tip of Manhattan. If she’s living anywhere, it’s in those areas. Your other contacts can keep their eyes on Manhattan itself, with specific attention paid to where Camille’s brothers and sisters live. I’ll do the same with my contacts. Let’s hope it shakes out.”

“How do you know Camille’s blonde? That she can see the tip of the city?”