Beyond belief (27 page)

“The question is, what now?”

“She needs me.”

“You and only you?”

“She's been through a lot.”

“Then you have a choice to make.”

Joe pressed his temples with his fingertips. He hated Howe for making it all seem so clear-cut, so black and white.

Especially when it was anything but.

On a dark stretch of Monroe Drive, Natalie flipped up the hatchback of her Range Rover. “Anything catch your eye?”

Ryland peered into the carpeted hatch, where eight automatic handguns were displayed. He was a plump, round-faced man with beady black eyes and unnaturally white teeth. “Nice toys, gorgeous.”

“Flattery will get you a break only if you want to buy all of them. Otherwise, I don't negotiate.”

Ryland's smile practically blinded her. “All of them? Business has been good, but not
that
good. How much for the Glock?”

Two sharp whistles sounded from across the street. Natalie and Ryland glanced up to see Lyles, hands clasped behind his head, being pushed from the shadows by two men with guns.

Ryland turned toward Natalie. “Friend of yours?”

Natalie didn't respond.

“We found him hiding in the doorway,” one of the men said to Ryland, holding up Lyles's Lanchester. “He had this on him.”

Ryland glared at Lyles. “Who the hell are you?”

“Someone who can help you make some cash.”

“I make plenty on my own.”

“Not this easy.”

Ryland whirled on Natalie. “What's the matter with you? You know the drill. You're supposed to be here alone.”

“Just like you are.”

“These guys are here for my protection. It looks like I needed it.”

Lyles smiled. “Nonsense. I just want a business reference from you.”

“That's why you're out here on a dark street at eleven o'clock at night?”

“That's pretty much it.”

Ryland turned to Natalie. “Is this guy for real?”

“Listen to him.”

“Okay.” He gave her a suave smile. “For you, Natalie, I'll listen.”

“Ugh. Please don't say that.”

Lyles slowly took his hands down. “I'm looking for a chopper jockey to do a job.”

“What makes you think I know one?”

“His name's Michael Kahn. I hear he's one of the best.”

“Why would I ever need the services of a …” He feigned confusion. “Chopper jock?”

“Jockey. Can we stop being coy? Everyone in the Southeast knows your organization.”

Ryland grinned. “Only in the Southeast?”

“And it's common knowledge that Kahn does some flying for you.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Introduce me. It's the only way I can meet him. You know these guys, living out of their suitcases wherever their plane or chopper happens to be. They're nearly impossible to track down.”

“Not for me,” Ryland said.

“Which is why I'll give you ten thousand dollars to arrange a face-to-face meeting with this guy.”

“Cash?”

“Nah, I'll cut you a check. And in the ‘memo’ section, I'll write ‘For personal introduction to interstate drug trafficker.’ Of course it'll be cash.”

Ryland turned to one of his men. “Check him for a wire.”

The man patted Lyles down, paying special attention to his chest and collar. Satisfied that he was clean, the man nodded to Ryland.

Lyles chuckled. “FYI, Ryland, listening devices have gotten very, very small. If I wanted to record you, I could be wearing a mike disguised as a shirt button. That pat-down was absolutely worthless, unless, of course, your guy was doing it for his own enjoyment.”

The man glared at Lyles.

Ryland closed Natalie's hatchback. “There are other pilots, you know.”

“Not like Michael Kahn.”

“What are you planning? It must be pretty big.”

“Big to me.”

“Maybe I should just cut myself in for a piece of it.”

“I'm already cutting you in. Ten thousand dollars’ worth.”

“Make it twenty-five, and I'll take you to see him within twenty-four hours.”

“He's in town?”

Ryland checked his watch. “Not yet, but he soon will be.”

Joe glanced around Nikki's bedroom, trying not to look dazed. In the past few hours he'd lost one of his best friends and almost lost his daughter. It didn't seem real.

Hold it together, man. Keep moving.

He picked up a stuffed bear and held it over Nikki's open suitcase. “Should I pack Mr. Cuddles?”

She shook her head. “I'm not five.”

“Sorry.”

She sat on her bed. “I wish you could come with me.”

Joe caressed her cheek. Her face was still red from crying. “I'm sorry, honey. You said you were okay with this.”

“I know.”

“You'll have fun with Grandpa. He'll let you sit in the projection booth and eat yourself sick on Milk Duds and Jujubes. I forgot to ask what the movie is this week. If he'd known you were coming, I'm sure he would have booked
Breakfast at Tiffany's.”

She didn't look at him. “That's okay. I've seen the tape a million times.”

He sat next to her. “You know why we're doing this, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Until we know what's going on, you're not safe with me. I'll worry about you, and I won't be able to do my job.”

“I know.”

There was a sharp knock at the front door. Joe and Nikki walked into the living room, and before he could check the peephole, a voice called out: “It's Carla!”

He threw open the door, and Detective Carla Fisk rushed inside and hugged Nikki. “Oh, baby. I'm sorry.”

Nikki squeezed her. “Hi, Carla.”

Joe hadn't seen Carla since that night at Nelson's murder scene, but when he called and asked her for a last-minute favor, she didn't hesitate before agreeing.

She flashed Nikki a smile that was crooked, yellow, and wonderful. “Don't you worry about anything, hon.”

Joe walked back to Nikki's room. “She's packed up and ready to go. My dad will be expecting you. I can't tell you how much this means to me.”

“My pleasure,” Carla drawled. “I have the next three days off, and I'm going to visit my sister. She lives in Savannah too. You're sure there's nothing else I can do?”

Joe came out with Nikki's suitcase and knapsack. “You're doing enough by taking her away from here. My dad was on the force, and he's one tough hom-bre. He can take good care of her.”

“Yeah, I've heard stories about your old man.” Carla subtly moved her jacket to the side just enough to show him her shoulder holster. “I can take good care of her too.”

“Thanks, Carla.”

They left the apartment, walked downstairs, and loaded the luggage into Carla's Chevy Nova.

Nikki hugged him. “When can I come back?”

“Soon, I promise.”

“When?”

“I'm not sure, sweetheart. When we know it's safe.”

“I'm gonna miss you.”

“Nowhere near as much as I'm gonna miss you, honey.” Joe raised her chin. “Don't give Grandpa too hard a time, okay? No matter how much you ask, there's no way he's going to run a week-long Leonardo DiCaprio film festival.”

Carla opened her door. “That does it. Nikki and I are going to Florida instead. Did you bring your sunscreen, hon?”

Nikki smiled and got into the car. “Be careful, Daddy.”

“You know I will. I'll call you tomorrow.”

Carla started the car, and Nikki's gaze clung to Joe's until they drove out of sight.

Joe let out a long breath. He felt like bawling like a baby. He felt like crying for Nikki, for Vince …

Vince.

The poor kid. He'd always been there for anybody who needed him, eager to prove himself. Even though he had nothing to prove, at least in Joe's eyes.

Dammit. Anyone who thought there was any order or meaning in the universe needed only to look at deaths like Vince's. There was no meaning there.

Joe knew there was someone he still had to tell about Vince's death. Sam Brewster, who'd taken a chance and given Vince the job at his magic shop. He'd also given Vince more love and respect than anyone had ever given him in his life. Sam would take it hard.

Joe checked his watch: 11:45. Sam would be asleep, but it didn't matter. He'd want to know right away.

Joe pulled out his keys and walked toward his car.

Y
ou're late,” Kellner said as Joe strode into his classroom at 9:15 the next morning.

“Late for what?” Joe's head was throbbing. He'd spent most of the night at Sam's, looking through pictures and programs of Vince and his performances. It had been a long, sad night.

“You missed Suzanne Morrison's demonstration. It was in the testing room, just as you requested.”

Joe turned away. Shit. He'd forgotten all about it. He was supposed to meet the team at eight.

“It was spectacular,” Kellner said. “I was just about to watch her tape. Would you like to see?”

“Sure.”

Kellner inserted the cassette into the classroom's video player. A shadowy infrared-enhanced image of the testing room appeared on-screen. Suzanne, Kellner, and three other members of the team were seated in the room. An empty chair tumbled across the floor, hit the wall, then rolled up to the ceiling.

It bounced off the ceiling twice, then fell to the floor.

Joe stepped back from the monitor. What the hell was that?

The entire table shook. An old spiritualist's trick, but Suzanne was nowhere near it. One by one, the members of Kellner's team backed away. Its vibrations became more and more intense until it abruptly flipped over with a sharp crack.

“How long ago was this?” Joe asked.

“We just finished fifteen minutes ago.”

Joe flew out of the room and ran down the hallway. He gripped the testing room's doorknob. Locked.

He glanced up the corridor. Kellner was walking toward him. “Let me in there,” Joe said.
“Now.”

Kellner pulled his keys from a retractable wire cord at his waist. “What do you think you're going to find?”

“I'll know when I see it.”

Kellner unlocked the door, and Joe pushed past him. The table was still upside down, and the chair was lying against the wall.

Joe's eyes darted around the room. “Were you the last one in here?”

“We all left together. I locked the door myself.”

Joe ran back into the hallway and grabbed a coat rack from a nearby classroom. He raced back into the testing room and rammed the rack through the suspended ceiling, knocking one of the panels out of place.

Kellner gasped. “What are you doing?”

Joe squinted at the opening, then knocked away
several other ceiling panels with the rack. One of the panels almost struck Kellner on the head.

“You can't do this!” Kellner shouted.

“Watch me.”

Within a minute Joe had knocked away every panel. He jumped on a chair and peered through the ceiling rails.

Nothing.

Other than an air duct and wiring for the light fixtures, the area was clear. He jumped off the chair.

“Satisfied?” Kellner asked caustically.

Joe picked up a chair and tossed it into the corridor.

“What was
that
for?”

Joe's only response was to pick up another chair and toss it out.

“Jesus, Bailey!”

Three of Kellner's students gathered in the doorway to watch.

“Get out of the way!” Joe said as he tossed a chair between the startled students. He gestured toward the table. “Can you guys give me a hand with this? I want to move it out.”

The students stepped into the room but were stopped by Kellner's glare.

Seeing that no help was forthcoming, Joe gripped one of the table legs, slid it across the carpeted room, and pulled it through the door.

He gathered the remaining chairs and tossed them into the corridor. The room was empty.

“What now?” Kellner snapped.

Joe glanced around the room, sweat covering his face. He furiously kicked the metal carpet guard
in the doorway. It finally came loose. He gripped the carpet's exposed edge and ripped it from the floor.

“Are you nuts?” Kellner shouted.

Joe pulled up the carpeting all the way to the far end of the room, pushing and kicking until it separated from the concrete slab beneath.

More students had gathered in the hallway, craning their necks to witness the Spirit Basher's meltdown.

Kellner pointed a pudgy finger at Joe. “If you don't stop this right now, I'm calling security.”

Joe cut his hand on a carpet staple. Blood ran down his fingers, but he couldn't feel it. He pressed the wound against his shirt. “Don't call security, call Professor Reisman. He'll back me up.”

“Don't be so sure. He has a weird prejudice against the destruction of school property.”

“Call him.” Joe looked up to see that Kellner and the kids were staring at him with morbid fascination, the same way they might look at a man who was setting himself on fire.

He turned away and ripped up another section of carpet. There was an answer in there somewhere. There had to be.

Kellner backed away. “I'm calling Reisman right now. If he's not in, my next call will be to security. You can't do this.”

“Looks like he's already done it,” one of the students cracked.

Kellner shoved the kids back. “Everyone, get out of here now. You hear me? Go.”