Paying The Piper (15 page)

“I remember the light hurting my eyes when he took me out of the basement. It was noisy on the way to the van.”

“What do you mean?”

“Animals.” Ryan got excited. “Lots of animals. I didn’t remember it before.”

“What kind of animals?”

Ryan put a hand to his mouth while he mined for memories left buried for a decade. Scott gave him the room to search, and remained silent. He didn’t want to disturb a breakthrough, should it come.

He glanced over at Guerra. She had her cell phone to her ear. The news wasn’t good, judging from her expression.

“This may sound stupid, but I’m thinking horses.”

“Any other kinds of animals? Cows? Sheep?”

Guerra hung up and walked toward him. Scott guessed his Q&A with Ryan was about to end.

“No, just horses. I remember the smell of horses. I hate that smell.”

Scott thought about the dirt
basement the Piper had kept Ryan in. Ryan mentioned the basement had no windows or vents. Normal building codes wouldn’t have allowed that. “Ryan, do you think you were held captive at a ranch?”

“Yeah, it could have been a ranch. I don’t remember other houses. A farm or a ranch, yes. It makes sense now.”

A farm or a ranch. Scott smiled. He had something to tell the Piper when he called.

Guerra appeared behind Scott. She leaned in close. “We have to go. Sheils wants you back at the Federal Building.”

“We’ll be finishing up in a few.”

“No. Now.”

“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.

“We have to go, Ryan,” Guerra said. “Thanks for your time.”

“Come on, Guerra,” Scott pleaded. “I just have a couple more questions.”

“I’m sorry I have to do this, Scott,” Guerra said as she pulled out her cuffs. “Sheils’s orders.”

I
nstead of a two-way mirror where others could
watch, unseen, the interview room featured a less-than-discreet video camera high up in the corner of the room. A red light glowed next to the camera lens. Scott wondered how many people Sheils had watching the video feed.

No one had read him his rights, so he knew he wasn’t under arrest, but he felt his grip on freedom was tenuous. Obviously, Sheils believed he had something on him. Scott eyed his watch.

“Am I keeping you?” Sheils stood underneath the video camera.

Just from the Piper
, Scott thought. The Piper’s next call was at seven. He had twenty minutes to talk his way out of this room. He didn’t see it happening. On the drive over, he’d taken the precaution of stuffing the Piper’s cell phone between the seat cushions of his Honda. “Just from my wife. Does Jane know I’m here?”

“Yes,” Brannon said. He sat across from Scott with a folder on the desk before him.

“Is she here?”

“No.”

The folder remained closed. Neither Sheils nor Brannon seemed in a hurry to kick-start the interrogation.

“What’s this about?”

“Inconsistencies,” Brannon said.

“Lies, really,” Sheils
said.

Scott didn’t have time for this. It had to end, and fast. The Piper would be calling, and for once, he had something for him. Something that would get him a word or two with Sammy and Peter. Sheils had touted the importance of proof of life. Well, he was on the verge of getting it—if he could get his butt out of here.

“Tell me about them.”

“This is your chance to tell us the truth,” Sheils said.

Were they just fishing, or did they have something on him? He flicked through his catalog of deceptions since the Piper had press-ganged him into service. He was sure he’d screwed up, but he didn’t know how.

“Look, my sons are missing. You should be focusing your efforts on finding them, not hauling me in here for some spurious reason.”

“I know my job,” Sheils said. “I have good grounds to question you.”

“Really? What are they?”

Brannon opened the folder. “Let’s go over a few things about the ransom drop in Oregon.”

Oregon was Scott’s Achilles’ heel. He’d had so little time to concoct a plausible story that the holes were there, if someone cared to look. Scott had relied on Sheils having more pressing lines of investigation to occupy his time. They’d found something up there, but what—Redfern?

“Walk me through what happened,” Brannon said. “From the moment we put you in the car to when you flagged down the truck after your escape.”

“You have my statement. This can wait. My children can’t. Find them and stop wasting my time.”

Scott’s tantrum failed to cut the interrogation short. Brannon removed a copy of Scott’s statement.

“No one has given the Piper the slip before,” Sheils said. “That makes you unique.”

“Just lucky.”

“Luck doesn’t come into it with the
Piper. Let’s discuss your capture. The Piper kept you confined to the unlocked cargo hold of his truck, but you weren’t gagged or bound. Correct?”

Scott nodded despite the weakness of his claim. “I was drugged.”

“He shot you up once. That wouldn’t have kept you sedated long.”

“So what are you saying—the Piper
let
me escape?”

Sheils shrugged. “That’s one idea. If you weren’t bound or gagged, why didn’t you bang on truck walls or scream out for help?”

“He would have killed me.”

“Reasonable, I guess. Gutless, but reasonable.”

“Hey, screw you, Sheils.”

Sheils just kept going. “The Piper held you captive for twenty-four hours, but you escaped less than fifty miles from where he ran you off the road. He could have gotten to Canada in that time. Why didn’t he?”

“Didn’t you have roadblocks in place?”

Sheils didn’t have an answer, but Scott didn’t feel like he’d won a point. They were toying with him, eating into his time. He fought the urge to check his watch. It couldn’t be seven yet. Missing this call meant missing the chance to speak to his kids. And the Piper would know something was wrong. He guessed it was around six forty-five. Still time to talk his way out of here.

“We got the analysis back on your clothes,” Brannon said.

“It proved very interesting,” Sheils said. “We discovered blood. Your blood and someone else’s.”

Both agents paused for Scott’s reaction. Any confidence he had about leaving the room before the seven o’clock deadline disappeared. He scrabbled for something to divert suspicion away from him.

“That’s probably the Piper’s blood. Can you trace him with
that?”

“Not yet, no,” Sheils said.

Brannon flicked through the file. “Did you know Waterloo, where you escaped, isn’t far from where Ray Banks lives in Lebanon?”

“Who?” Scott said without any hesitation.

Christ, he was right. They had found Mike Redfern. That was the bomb they’d come to drop on him.

Sheils marched over to the desk and tossed the open file at him. It skidded across the desk’s slick metal surface. Reflexively, Scott slapped a hand on a single eight-by-ten headshot of Redfern lying on a stainless-steel autopsy table. The blood and dirt had been washed away, but his cleanliness only highlighted the ravages of decomposition and the bullet wound. Scott recoiled from the photo like his hand was actually touching the corpse.

“Recognize him now?” Sheils asked.

Scott said nothing, but his gaze remained on the picture of Redfern, no matter how hard he tried to wrench it away.

How had they discovered him? Scott wondered. The Piper? Did the son of a bitch sell him out? He wondered what else the Piper was going to load on his shoulders. Redfern had gotten off easy.

“Talk to us, Scott,” Brannon said.

Sheils clamped his hands to the edge of the table and leaned in over Scott. Scott felt the FBI agent was gearing up for the kill.

“I don’t know him.”

“Scott, I’ll make it easy,” Sheils said. “This is all about the Rooker kidnapping. The Piper sucked us back into this. We’re only missing one other person.” Sheils rapped on Redfern’s lifeless image. “Mike Redfern.”

Scott tore his stare away from the photo and looked up at Sheils. He tried his best to sound confused when he said, “Redfern?”

Sheils smiled, a nasty little thing without an ounce of
humor. “That’s right. That’s Mike Redfern.”

Sheils pushed himself away from the table and circled it like a bird of prey. “I have a hard time with coincidence, Scott. The Piper arranged for a ransom drop in Oregon. Very odd, but I can sort of believe it. It forces us to have to work on the fly. It’s a smart tactic.” Sheils smirked. “I can almost respect the son of a bitch for it.”

Sheils stopped and slammed his hand on the table. Scott flinched in his seat.

“Then some forestry guys stumble upon a corpse. That corpse turns out to be Mike Redfern, who was shot in the face and died sometime during your abduction. Not only that, it all happened within an hour’s drive of where you were.” Sheils stopped circling. “Now, that’s not coincidence. That’s choreography.”

Sheils waited on Scott for a response.

Scott’s heart pounded. They had him. Eventually, when they ran the blood on his clothes, they’d tie him to the murder. Right now, Sheils had a theory, and he was putting it to the test.

“So the Piper killed Redfern, is that so surprising?” Scott said.

Sheils snapped his fingers and pointed at Scott with overdramatic flair. “That’s what I thought, but it doesn’t make sense. Why arrange to kill Redfern in the middle of a ransom drop with the FBI crawling all over the place? That’s just asking for a screwup.”

“He’s showboating,” Scott said. “He wants to show the world how good he is. He shows you up yet again, turns my life to hell, and assassinates his number one fan, all at the same time.”

Sheils exhaled. “Nice theory. You want to hear mine?”

He didn’t give Scott time to object.

“You and the Piper are working together. The pair of you orchestrated this whole thing to extort money and dispose of Redfern.”

Sheils didn’t know how close he was to the truth. If his grudge wasn’t blinding him, Scott felt he would have guessed by now what was really going on.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“It’s an allegation unworthy of a
response.”

“Is that right?”

Brannon rifled through his file again. “Local police entered Mike Redfern’s home. They found signs of a struggle. Currently, the place is being checked for fingerprints and trace evidence.”

Scott knew they’d find proof to tie him to the house. He hadn’t wiped the place down. He hadn’t had the time or the opportunity. The noose tightened.

“We also have an eyewitness,” Brannon said. “A neighbor of Redfern’s remembers speaking to someone matching your description at the time of your abduction. Would you be available for a video lineup?”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Scott said. “You said as much yourself. It’s overly complicated. Diverting the ransom drop so that it occurs in Redfern’s backyard just to kill him is crazy. It could have been done a lot more quietly.”

“And to quote you, ‘He’s showboating.’ You both are. You two think you’re smarter than us.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Was Redfern part of your act eight years ago?”

“You might not believe in coincidence, but you sure believe in fantasy.”

It had to be close to seven now. Scott could play the lawyer card, but not in time to meet the seven o’clock call, and it would only buy him a day. By tomorrow, Sheils would have enough for an arrest. He couldn’t find the Piper while he was behind bars. He needed to stay out of jail until Monday. He didn’t feel any closer to finding the Piper, but he still had five days. A lot could happen in five days. Christ, Sheils had almost pieced it together in a day. He had to keep the faith that he would find the Piper by Monday. But he couldn’t do it if Sheils kept him pinned down here.

“What time is it?” Scott asked.

The question threw both Sheils and Brannon.

“Excuse me?” Brannon
asked.

“Time. What’s the time?”

Brannon checked his watch. “Six fifty.”

Ten minutes. There was no shaking Sheils off in ten minutes without forcing his hand. He’d lost. There was no other way around it. Maybe this was for the best. He would have liked to have run it by Jane, but they had him.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

W
henever a case split open and the hard shell of
lies fell away, a flash of excitement always ripped through Sheils. This time was no different. Adrenaline coursed through him, leaving him shaky and on edge. But then Scott Fleetwood sucked the excitement from him.

“I’ll talk to you and only you,” Scott said to Sheils.

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It does this time, or I’m leaving. The only way you’ll stop me is if you shoot me.”

Sheils could tell he meant it. He wasn’t going to get anything from Scott unless he complied. What did it matter if Scott spoke off the record? It would all end up on the record eventually.

“You’re wasting time,” Scott said.

Sheils nodded to Brannon, and Brannon left the room.

“Kill the eyes and ears too,” Scott said and nodded at the camera.

Sheils looked at the camera and drew a line across his throat in a “kill it” gesture. The red light next to the camera lens went out.

“What’s the time?” Scott asked. “The exact time.”

Sheils checked his watch. “Seven minutes to seven.”

“What I tell you doesn’t leave this room. Understood?”

Sheils didn’t like the turn this interrogation was
going. He’d seen crap like this before when a suspect tried to save his neck, but he could tell Scott was vibrating with fear. Sheils slipped into the seat vacated by Brannon.

“I’m not making any promises until I’ve heard what you’ve got to say.”

Scott shot out a hand and snared Sheils’s arm from across the table.

“My kids’ lives depend on this, and I have minutes to save them.” Scott’s eyes were wide. “I’ll tell you everything, but I need your word.”

Sheils knew he was making a mistake, but he wanted to hear what Scott had to say. “You have it.”

Scott released Sheils arm. “I’ve been working for the Piper against my will. The ransoms have been a cover for his personal vendetta for the screwup with Nicholas Rooker.”

“Is that the best you can come up with?”

“I’ll prove it. He’s calling me at seven on a cell. He’s going to let me speak to Sammy and Peter. Let me take the call.”

Sheils checked his watch again. Five minutes to seven. Five minutes for Scott to hang himself. It was worth the indulgence. “Where’s the phone?”

Sheils guided Scott through the building and to the parking lot. Sheils held on to the car keys, just in case it was a scam.

In the parking lot, he followed Scott over to his car and unlocked it. Scott yanked open the back door, stuffed his hand between the seat cushions, and jerked out a cell phone. He powered it up, but it didn’t ring.

Sheils imagined the Piper sitting somewhere secluded, phone in hand, waiting for the clock to change from 6:59 to 7:00. He eyed his watch. “It’s two minutes to. Let’s get you inside.”

The phone vibrated in Scott’s hand in the middle of a corridor.

“Not yet,” Sheils warned.

“I can’t hold off. He knows I’m going to be waiting by
the phone.”

Sheils cursed. He wanted this call taken in a controlled environment. He would have liked to trace it, but there was no time for that. If Scott was telling him the truth, as long as they maintained the Piper’s belief that Scott still worked under the FBI’s radar, they’d have other calls. When those came, he’d be ready. He shoved Scott into a copy room and closed the door.

The phone had rung four times. Scott answered it before it rang a fifth time.

Sheils leaned in to listen. He heard the Piper’s electronically disguised voice.

“What have you learned about me, Scott?”

“You keep the kidnapped children at a farm or ranch. Some place with horses.”

Sheils flashed Scott a look. Where the hell had he gotten that information?

“How did you come across that tidbit?” the Piper asked. “From one of the kidnapped children.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not saying.”

The Piper laughed. “Just like a reporter to protect his sources. Scott, I’m not going to punish your source. I told you I want you to find me. I’m just interested in who remembered horses.”

“It wasn’t part of the deal. Now I want to speak to my sons.”

“I said you could speak to one of them. Don’t get greedy. Now, which one? Who’s daddy’s favorite?”

The perverse pleasure the Piper took from teasing Scott disgusted Sheils.

Scott squirmed. Sheils saw the dilemma. Regardless of which of his sons he chose to speak to, the other would take it personally, especially if the Piper had the boys within earshot. It was the kind of remark that would leave a scar.

“Peter. Let me talk to
Peter.”

“So Daddy likes Peter more.”

“Fuck you. It isn’t like that.”

The Piper laughed. “I’ll get Peter.”

Scott sagged. Sheils squeezed his shoulder and gave him the thumbs-up sign.

Distant fumbling noises came over the line. The Piper spoke in the distance. Sheils guessed he was using a landline.

Scott stiffened when a boy shrieked. The Piper barked something, and the shriek turned to crying.

“Take it easy, Scott,” Sheils whispered. He needed Scott to hold it together. “He’s not going to hurt them. He still needs you.”

The crying increased in volume as the Piper returned to the phone with Peter. Sheils hoped the Fleetwood boys were holding up. He’d seen Peter and understood why Scott had chosen him over Sammy. Peter needed the reassurance. No kid was built for this kind of trauma, especially Peter. He’d hate to see the kid permanently damaged by all this.

“I’m putting Peter on. Don’t say anything stupid,” the Piper said. “Peter, it’s Daddy.”

Peter’s sobs dried enough for him to speak. “Daddy?”

Scott’s knees buckled. Sheils moved in to catch him. Scott regained his footing, and Sheils released him. All doubt about Scott’s claims left Sheils.

“Yeah, buddy. How are you and Sammy?”

The kid sounded tired, but not drugged. That excited Sheils. If Sammy and Peter weren’t drugged and were conscious of their surroundings, they’d make great eyewitnesses, better than the other kids in the Piper kidnap club.

“We’re okay.”

“He feeds you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not hurt?”

“No. Is Mommy
there?”

“No, sorry, bud.”

Peter sobbed. “I want Mommy.”

“Not this time. Next time. That’s a promise.”

The Piper snatched the phone from Peter. “I think that’s enough. It’s starting to get sickening. I’ll be in touch.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow at five. Tell me something else about me, and you can speak to Sammy.”

“I will.”

Sheils had the Piper. The dumb bastard had gotten too smart for his own good. He would lead him all the way. Sheils made a fist and punched the air. His elbow connected with a plastic cup with pens in it. The cup and pens clattered to the floor.

“Is someone with you, Scott?”

Scott’s heart stopped. “No.”

“Where are you?”

Scott thought fast. “In a Burger King.”

“So you aren’t alone?”

“I’m alone in the way you mean.”

“What are you eating?”

“A Whopper,” Scott said without any hesitation.

Sheils wondered if Scott had realized his critical save. When people lied, they rarely thought beyond the initial lie. Someone says they went to the movies, and when they’re asked what they saw, they don’t have an answer. The Piper had tested that lie by asking what he’d ordered. Most people would have hesitated trying to remember a menu item. Scott hadn’t hesitated.

“Do you know how many grams of fat are in those things?

You’re heading to an early grave eating that crap.”

“Not if you put me in one first.”

The Piper laughed. “Ain’t that the truth. So what happened?”

“A guy knocked his drink over.”

“Let me speak to your clumsy friend.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Sheils pointed to himself and nodded. Scott
shook his head. Sheils understood Scott’s hesitance. The Piper knew his voice. If he recognized it, it was all over. He grabbed two sheets off a Post-it note pad and stuffed them into his mouth. He gagged on the treated paper and glue strip. He chewed fast, working his saliva into the paper to soften it.

“Okay,” Scott said and walked across the copy room to Sheils. “My friend wants to talk to you.”

“What?” Sheils sounded as if he’d been caught midchew, his face stuffed with food.

“My friend wants to talk to you.”

“Fuck you, fag. Tell your homo friend to go fuck a pipe wrench.”

The outburst created the desired effect. Scott listened to the Piper talk, then hung up.

Sheils spat the chewed wads of paper into a trash can. “Did he buy it?”

“I think so. He said, ‘Sounds like you found a real knuckle-dragger there. No wonder he knocked his drink over. I doubt his thumbs have had a chance to develop.’”

“Thank Christ. I’m sorry.”

“Believe me now?”

“Yes.”

“So this stays between us?”

“Yes. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Jane does.”

“Okay, I want to talk to you two, but later. I need to square this here. Now go home. Stay there. I’ll be along in a couple of hours. Okay?”

Scott looked uneasy, but nodded.

Sheils hustled Scott out of the building. On the way back to his office, Brannon stopped him in a corridor.

“Where’s Fleetwood?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? We had
him. What’s going on, Tom?”

Sheils had hoped to gather his thoughts before having to launch into an explanation. “Who was observing?”

“Just Guerra and Dunham.”

“Tell them it was all a mistake. Then I want you in my office.”

Brannon faltered. “What happened in there?”

“My office in five.”

Sheils got to his office and closed the door. He called Travillian at home. He’d gotten as far as telling him there’d been a new development when Brannon knocked at the door. Brannon came in, and Sheils put Travillian on speaker.

“So what did Fleetwood tell you?” Travillian asked.

“I can’t go into details, but the Piper is monitoring this investigation. I want him to keep believing he has the upper hand. In the meantime, I want permission to run a second investigation outside of this office to follow up on what I’ve learned tonight.”

“You’re asking a lot, Tom,” Travillian said.

“I know.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me. You haven’t believed a word Fleetwood has said since the day you met him, but suddenly you trust him?” Brannon said.

“Yes, I do.”

Brannon shook his head in astonishment.

“Then you have my blessing,” Travillian said. “This meeting never happened.”

Brannon frowned before answering. “What meeting?”

“Good,” Travillian said. “Can you give Tom and me some privacy, Shawn?”

Brannon got up from his seat and left Sheils’s office, closing the door after him.

“Tom, you’re risking a twenty-five-year career on this.”

“I know.”

“Would you do this if it
weren’t the Piper?”

“Oh, c’mon, Bill, I don’t know.”

“Tom, you should know, if this play hits the wall, not only will you be damaged, so will the Fleetwoods and your own family. So think damn carefully before deciding.”

Sheils had tried to ignore the consequences, but Travillian was right. If he failed, many people would suffer the repercussions. Was he being selfish? Was he so focused on catching the Piper that nothing else mattered? He liked to think not, but he felt the grip of the Piper pulling at him. If he didn’t go after this, he’d always regret it. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m risking. I can get him, Bill.”

“Then you’d better do it.”