Nick of Time (A Bug Man Novel) (30 page)

“No, I’m not. Keller was married; after he died his widow moved away, but she comes back to visit from time to time— and guess where she stays whenever she’s in town? Right here at the Yanuzzi Inn.”

“Seems a bit obvious.”

“That’s what I thought. Funny thing is, Yanuzzi told me all about it.”

“He did?”

“I asked him why he told me and he said it was because he has nothing to hide. He said his wife knows all about it—that they just loan out the cabin so the woman won’t have to pay for a hotel.”

“You buy that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I met the woman.”

“Where? Here?”

“This is where she stays. I met her here the other night and we had a long talk. She just didn’t strike me as a grieving widow.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing . . . she was flirting with me.”

“She was
flirting
with you? How do you know?”

“How do I
know
? How would anybody know?”

“I know how anybody would know—I’m just not sure how you would know. Was she emitting some kind of chemical indicator?”

“Be serious. You know, she could have been the one who fired that shot. She’s the one who called and asked me to meet her here, and then she didn’t show up. Yanuzzi said she left town the day before, but maybe not.”

“You think
she
took the shot?”

“It’s possible—she would have had the same motive as Yanuzzi. I hate it when a woman flirts with you and then tries to kill you.”

“Has that happened to you a lot?”

“Well . . . there was my high school prom.”

Donovan sat down on the leather sofa. “Describe this woman to me.”

“Medium height, athletic build, short dark hair. She was attractive.”

“You found her attractive.”

“I didn’t say I
found
her attractive—I said she
was
attractive.”

“Attractive to you.”

“There was nobody else there, Donovan. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m just making a simple observation: You met a woman and you found her attractive.”

“So?”

“Did you flirt back?”

Nick squinted at him. “What’s with you tonight? You’re even weirder than usual.”

“Answer the question, Nick:
Did you flirt back?
”

“Donovan, I’m engaged to be married.”

“You’re reminding
me
? Answer the question.”

“No—I didn’t flirt back.”

“Did you enjoy the fact that she was flirting with you? ”

“Is there a point to this fascinating discussion?”

“The point is, you’re getting married tomorrow, Nick— right about now you should be singing ‘I Only Have Eyes for You.’ Is that the way you feel about Alena? Or are you still looking around?”

“I just came out here to do an interview.”

“You drove all the way out here.”

“That’s right.”

“Just to do an interview.”

“Yes.”

“With a woman. Late at night.”

“Do I need to use smaller words? You seem to be having trouble following.”

“Nick, do you mind if I give you a piece of marital advice?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Just shut up and listen. When a man is married—or wants to be—he does not drive to a remote place in the wee hours of the morning to meet with a lonely widow.”

“Alena trusts me.”

“Really? What did she say when you told her about this little ‘interview’?”

Nick didn’t reply.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“We’ve had cell phone problems.”

“When’s the last time you talked to Alena?”

Nick paused. “What day is this?”

Donovan shook his head. “I told you this would happen. You get started on something and you lose track of time—you lose track of everything except the thing you’re working on. You know what I think?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“I don’t think you want to get married.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Why haven’t you called Alena?”

“I told you—”

“Have you missed her, Nick? Have you even
thought
about her?”

“I’ve been . . . preoccupied.”

“Nick, you’re getting married
tomorrow
—preoccupied with what? What’s so important that it makes you forget your own fiancée? What
is
important to you, Nick—what is it you really want?”

Before Nick could reply the cabin door burst open and two hooded figures stepped into the room; one held a shotgun at waist-level, while the other swung a revolver back and forth between Nick and Donovan.

“Hands up, both of you,” the man with the revolver said. “Lock your fingers behind your head—drop ’em before I say so and you won’t have a head anymore.”

Nick and Donovan both complied.

“Shut the door,” the man told his partner. “We need a little privacy.” When the door was sealed and the cabin was quiet again, the man who held the revolver pulled the pillowcase from his head.

“If it isn’t Tony Womack,” Donovan said. “Or do I call you ‘Ed Yanuzzi’? I hear you’re a sheriff now—glad to see you’ve been making yourself useful.”

“Who are you?”

“Special Agent Nathan Donovan—and you’re under arrest.”

“That’s real funny. Turn around.”

When he turned, Yanuzzi lifted the back of Donovan’s jacket and pulled the handgun from his waistband holster. “I see the Bureau’s still handing out the Glock 23,” he said.

“It’s a good weapon,” Donovan replied. “Want me to show you how it works?”

“No, thanks. I’ll take that backup .40 caliber from your ankle holster too.”

Yanuzzi shoved his revolver against the base of Donovan’s spine while he knelt down and removed the gun from under Donovan’s trouser leg.

“What happens now?” Nick asked.

“We roast marshmallows around the fire,” Yanuzzi said.

“What do you think, Polchak?”

“This was never about Marty Keller’s widow, was it?”

“I tried to tell you that—you didn’t believe me.”

“And it wasn’t about that cold case either—it was all about you hiding out from the FBI. That’s why you shot your deputy, and that’s why you killed Pete Boudreau. You didn’t want a Vidocq investigator digging around here—there was too big a risk that he might dig up something about you.”

Yanuzzi tossed handcuffs to Nick and Donovan. “See those water pipes on the wall? Get down on your knees and cuff yourselves to them—I won’t tell you twice.”

The two men knelt down facing the wall and chained their wrists to the thick iron pipes.

“How did you know we’d be here?” Donovan asked.

“I have my sources.”

“I don’t get it,” Nick said. “How does killing us solve your problem?”

“You
are
my problem,” Yanuzzi said. “I told you to leave it alone, Polchak, but no—you had to keep pushing. You just had to call your buddy here from the FBI, didn’t you? Now he’s here to take me in—so what am I supposed to do? Don’t blame me for what happens next—you brought it on yourself.”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No—you’re supposed to disappear.”

“Don’t you think people will come looking for us?” Nick asked.

“I doubt anybody cares what happens to you. They’ll come looking for your friend here—but by the time they do I’ll be long gone. This just buys me some time.”

Yanuzzi turned to his partner and nodded to the door; the man opened it and held it for Yanuzzi. Yanuzzi stopped in the doorway and looked back at the two men kneeling against the wall. “This cabin is a great place to think things over,” he said. “You might want to give it a try—it’s the last chance you’ll ever get.”

33

T
he two men stepped out into the darkness and closed the cabin door behind them, leaving Nick and Donovan alone.

Nick turned to his fellow prisoner: “Where are they going?”

“My guess is to walk the property,” Donovan said. “They probably want to make sure there aren’t any neighbors out relaxing on their decks when two gunshots go off.”

“That should give us a few minutes anyway.”

“I recognized Womack,” Donovan said, “but who’s the guy with the hood?”

“No idea. Maybe just some guy from town who doesn’t want to be incriminated later.”

Donavan tugged on his handcuffs. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

Nick sat down and planted his feet against the wall, one on either side of the water pipe, and began to pull hard—the pipe didn’t budge.

Donovan watched. “Are you kidding? That’s cast-iron pipe.”

“Maybe there’s some way to loosen it.”

“Good idea—see if you can get the monkey wrench from my back pocket.”

“This is no time to be sarcastic, Donovan. You’re in law enforcement—don’t you carry a handcuff key?”

“Sure do.”

“Where is it?”

“In the car, with my handcuffs—why don’t you run out and get it for me?”

Nick moaned.

“We weren’t planning on picking up Womack until morning, remember? I left everything in the car.”

Nick looked up at the wall sconce. “If I could reach that oil lamp with my foot, I might be able to knock it off the wall. It would set fire to the cabin—somebody might spot the flames.”

“Way out here? They’d think it was a campfire. And even if somebody did spot the fire, by the time they got here we’d both look like shish kebabs. Thanks—I’d rather be shot.”

“Have you got any ideas?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you? Don’t they train you people for situations like this? What am I paying taxes for?”

“You want an idea, Nick? Here’s an idea for you: Why don’t you chew off one of your limbs like a badger does when it’s caught in a trap?”

Nick looked at him. “What’s eating you?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe it’s
dying
—that always puts me in a foul mood.”

“There has to be some way out of this.”

“You think so? We’re in the middle of nowhere and nobody even knows we’re here. We’re chained to a wall, and two guys with guns are coming back in just a couple of minutes—and they have no reason to negotiate. Face it, Nick, we just ran out of luck this time.”

“Sorry,” Nick mumbled. “I didn’t think things would get this serious.”

“You didn’t
think
? You didn’t think it would matter if you left Virginia less than a week before your wedding. You didn’t think the Philadelphia police would care if you violated a crime scene and stole phone records. You didn’t think your fiancée would mind if you drove up to the Poconos on some wild-goose chase—and you didn’t think Yanuzzi would come back to this cabin tonight either. Sounds to me like you haven’t been doing much thinking lately.”

“It was a calculated risk,” Nick said.

“
Whose
risk, Nick? Do you ever think about anybody besides yourself? You’re not the only one chained to a wall here, you know. Do you have any idea how many times you’ve called me and put me in harm’s way just to get you out of some tight spot? Okay, I’m an FBI agent—maybe I signed up for this kind of thing. But what about my wife—did you ever think about Macy? And we have a baby now—or did you forget that? They depend on me, so you put them in harm’s way too—did you factor that into your ‘calculated risk’? How’s Macy gonna feel when I don’t come home tomorrow—or ever again? She always knew it was a possibility, but that won’t make the reality any easier.”