Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (67 page)

But his sleep had been fitful and far too short. Two hours. He didn’t even feel human.

He banged around in the kitchen, making no effort to minimize the noise as he started coffee and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

He checked the time and dialed the number to make his daily ‘I’m still too sick to come back to work’ call. He’d learned that timing it for just before nine o’clock meant he could leave a message while his boss’s secretary was busy mixing pounds of nondairy creamer into the swill that passed for coffee at the office.

He lowered his voice to an appropriate rasp and left the necessary update, making sure that everyone understood he was working from home, not simply lounging in bed.

“I need to do that, too,” said a voice just over his shoulder.

He jumped, nearly dropping the phone into the sink, and turned to see Aroostine rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’d padded across the floor so quietly he’d never heard her.

“Jeez. What are you—some kind of assassin? A ninja?”

She gave him a drowsy smile.

“No, a tracker. Did you think you’re the only one?”

He smiled at that and felt his crankiness evaporating. After all, this woman was trying to
help
him. Help him get his mother back safely.

“Coffee?” he asked, gesturing to the hissing and steaming pot.

________

While Aroostine waited for Franklin’s computer to come to life, she sipped her mug of dark roast and tried not to grimace. She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but Franklin had no tea—or creamer, or sugar, or even milk. Apparently mother and son both took their coffee black.

The bitter taste was outweighed by her need to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her brain. She took another hesitant sip and, for a moment, she thought of another black coffee drinker she knew. The temptation to call on Sasha McCandless for help was strong, but she simply couldn’t continue to involve other people in this mess. She’d just have to handle it herself, with Franklin’s help.

She sneaked a peek at him. With his hair sticking straight up from a night of restless sleep and clad in plaid flannel pajamas that she just
knew
his mother had picked out, he looked to be about twelve. Okay. Fine, she’d handle it all by herself.

He must have felt her eyes on him.

He turned and said, “Didn’t you say you need to call into your office or something?”

“I emailed my assistant.”

His eyes clouded.

“What?”

“What did your message say? Because, you know, I’m supposed to be reading your email and telling
him
if there’s anything noteworthy.”

She tried to ignore the chill that tickled her spine at the casual way he talked about invading her privacy. “It was plain vanilla. I just said I’m too sick to come in and that I’ll try to check in later.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be picking a jury tomorrow?”

She nodded.

“So shouldn’t you be dragging yourself into the office even if you’re sick as a dog?”

“Yes. That’s the point. Everyone at work is probably having a fit right about now.” She sent up a silent apology to Rosie, who would bear the brunt of Sid’s outrage and would be scrambling to cover all the work herself, then she continued, “So you can tell the man that it looks like I’m cooperating. That sort of flaky behavior is consistent with someone who’s planning to throw a case, don’t you think?”

She waited patiently until comprehension lit his face.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it is. Great! Should I call him now?”

“Yes. But first—is there any way you can track
him
—even just to within fifty miles or so of his location?”

He shook his head and said in a mournful voice, “No. Believe me. I’ve tried. He’s using a cheapo cell phone that doesn’t hook into any of our systems. He’s untrackable.”

Aroostine set her mouth in a firm line. “No one’s untrackable. Go ahead and make your call.”

She turned back to the monitor and her fingers flew over the keyboard. She’d find the forest that had been home to the white oak trees used to make the cabin’s logs. Then she’d find the stream that the beaver kept showing her, although she had no intentions of sharing the existence of her animal spirit guide with the Franklin. And then she’d find the cabin.

What then?

She’d worry about that when the time came. And it was coming fast.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Franklin could hear his voice shaking. He paused and tried to steady it, so the man wouldn’t think he was lying or holding anything back.

The man snapped, impatient and cold, “Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry … I’m just—” he decided to go with a partial truth “—well, I’m worried about my mother. And I haven’t been sleeping and…”

“I do not care to hear your tale of woe,” the man said in disgust. “Get to the point about the woman.”

“Y-yes, of course,” he stammered. “She sent an email to her office. She’s not going to work today.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she’s too sick, but her calendar shows a full day of meetings to prepare for jury selection tomorrow and the case next week. It seems inconceivable that she wouldn’t go to work no matter how sick she might be.”

He glanced nervously at Aroostine and was rewarded with a reassuring smile before she returned to whatever it was she was doing on his computer.

“Hmmm.”

“I think this means she’s going to do it. She’s going to throw the case.”

“Perhaps. You have had no response to the messages?”

Franklin exhaled and carefully recited the lines he and Aroostine had agreed on.

“No. I can tell they’ve been viewed. But she seems to have reacted by cutting off all contact with her friends and coworkers. She hasn’t reached out to any of her coworkers, other than to send the message that she isn’t coming in, and she’s made no other calls. I think she’s in hiding.”

The man was silent for so long that sweat beaded at Franklin’s hairline.

At last the man said, “She may be. She is not staying at her apartment.”

Franklin’s heart pounded and his chest constricted at the thought that the man might
know
.

This is it. You’re going to die of cardiac arrest wearing plaid pajamas.

He struggled for a moment and then managed a shallow breath.

“She’s not?” he squeaked.

Aroostine’s head swiveled in his direction at the panic in his voice.

“No.”

He braced himself against the counter with one hand and squeezed his eyes shut with terror. “Where is she?”

“I do not know. I have paid some of the front lobby personnel at her condominium building to keep me informed of her movements because the building does not use key cards that you can monitor. But, unlike your system, human intelligence is flawed and unreliable. She may have returned home and gathered her things unbeknownst to me. All that I know is she is not home now. My informant rang her apartment and she did not answer. So he let himself in on the pretext of a potential leak coming from the unit above. Her unit is empty.”

“Oh.” Franklin searched for something to say while he imagined how Aroostine would react to the news of this latest violation. “Uh, interesting.”

“Interesting? If you say so. Keep monitoring and let me know if she contacts anyone.”

“Wait! What about my mother and, um, her husband? If she’s going to do what you want, can’t you let them go?”

The man snorted. “No.”

Franklin waited, but the man didn’t elaborate.

“But why not?”

An irritated sigh filled his ears.

Then the man huffed, “Because their presence will guarantee compliance. If she has set things in motion to cooperate, that is good. But they stay here until the judge declares, what’s the word, a mistrial. Then I will uphold my end of the arrangement. Do not ask again, Franklin. It is becoming tiresome.”

The words held a warning.

“Okay, I’m sorry. May I speak to my mother?”

“No.”

The man ended the call, and Franklin turned to Aroostine, whose concerned eyes were still pinned on him.

“Um, he seems cautiously optimistic that you’re going to throw the case.”

“That’s good. And—?”

He plunged ahead, “And he has his clutches in someone who works at your building. They’re watching for you. You can’t go home.”

She raised a brow and set her chin in a determined way but said nothing.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“What’s the effect of a mistrial? I mean, can’t you just try these guys again?” he frowned in confusion.

“Yep.”

“Then why—?”

“I have no idea what difference he thinks it’ll make. I mean, he can’t know this, but we probably won’t refile the charges. These guys are small potatoes, and it’d be a waste of resources now that the case against the company is settled. But that’s a political decision, not a legal issue.”

“Unless he does know.”

They stared at each other for a moment. He thought he saw her shiver.

“I don’t even want to think about the possibility. Did he say anything else?”

“He’s not going to release Joe and my mom until the trial is canceled or whatever.”

“Of course he’s not. They’re his leverage.”

She shook her head at his naivety and her black hair whirled around her face like a curtain.

He stood there for a moment feeling stupid and useless then asked, “Well, now what?”

She tore a piece of paper from a legal pad and started scribbling a list with her chewed-up pencil. She handed it to him and said, “Can you read my handwriting?”

He scanned it:

Kitchen matches

Compass

Plastic poncho

Hand warmers

Small flashlight

Swiss army knife

Nuts

Thermos

“What is this?”

“It’s a list.”

“I
know
it’s a list. So, I’m your errand boy, now? And you’re going camping?”

She fixed him with a look.

“Do you really think I’m going camping?”

“No?” he ventured, not sure if he really wanted her to fill him in.

She seemed to sense his ambivalence.

“Listen, you want to see your mom again, right?”

He nodded.

“Then, don’t ask any questions. Just do me a favor and get me this stuff. Pay cash.”

“I know not to leave a trail.” He tried but failed to keep the petulance out of his tone.

“Of course you do. Sorry. Listen, I know you probably don’t think this is an important thing to do, but I really need this stuff and I can’t risk being seen. Will you please go to the store and pick it up?”

He had the distinct feeling that he was being handled, but he didn’t know what to do about it. So he simply agreed to the request.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “And while you’re gone, I’m going to take a shower and borrow some more appropriate clothes, okay?”

She gestured toward the rumpled business suit she was wearing and the high heels that she’d kicked off beside his couch.

“Uh, sure. Make yourself at home.” He gave her a once-over. “You’re at least eight inches taller than my mom, though. So, I’ll have to give you something of mine. Sweats?”

“Sweats, a base layer, anything you’d wear skiing would be perfect. Black is preferable. And I’m going to need some thick socks and waterproof boots.”

He bit his tongue to keep from asking if she was planning to do anything illegal because he decided he really didn’t want to know. Then he headed into his bedroom to find her some clothes.