Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay (24 page)

I
t had to be one of the best-attended arraignments in Vineland Park history. Chief Pruitt, Hale Hunsicker, Jenn, Diana, Hunsicker's parents, a few of Kahan's men, and even Cassie and Elroy Cates, looking a bit sheepish and the worse for wear, were there. An older gentleman with long gray hair, holding a black Stetson under his left arm, had introduced himself as C. C. Peacock to Jesse when Jesse was marched into the courtroom.

“I'll be representing you, son. I hear you're a police chief, so you don't much like lawyers. I also hear you're a sharp fella, so you know to just stand there and let me do the talking. We'll get you right out of here.”

Diana wore a bemused expression on her exquisite face.
Bemused
was not a word to describe the look on Jenn's face. She kept alternating her gaze from Hale to Jesse, and it had murder written all over it. Hale Hunsicker wore a kind of distressed expression, but Jesse didn't think it was about the ugly bruise on his jaw or about Jenn's anger. He didn't like it. When they'd brought him into the courtroom, he'd raised his cuffed and chained hands and waved at Diana.
She just shook her head at him and smiled in spite of herself. She also mouthed “I love you” and winked at him. Jesse winked back.

There was something amusing about the entire situation, but somehow it was lost on the judge, a desiccated older woman who reminded Jesse of an angry substitute teacher with little patience for student hijinks.

The judge read the charges out in a nasty monotone.

“How do you plead, Mr. Stone?”

Peacock said, “My client pleads—”

She banged her gavel. “I asked your client, Mr. Peacock. Now, Mr. Stone, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor.”

She raised a single skeptical eyebrow at him.

“Good thing I won't be on your jury, Mr. Stone,” she said, and then repeated his plea to the court clerk.

“Can we now discuss the matter of bail, Your Honor?” Peacock asked.

She nodded at the ADA. “Mr. Spiegelman, what do the People say?”

Spiegelman looked back at Cates and Hunsicker and said, “While the People acknowledge the seriousness of the charges, Your Honor, we have faith that Mr. Stone, a decorated former LAPD detective and current chief of police of Paradise, Massachusetts, should be released on his own recognizance.”

The judge looked about ready to explode.

“I'm confused here, Mr. Spiegelman.”

“How so, Your Honor?”

“Are you the prosecuting attorney here or Mr.—excuse me, Chief Stone's—public relations man?” She turned to Jesse's lawyer. “I'm not sure your services are required here, Mr. Peacock. It seems Mr.
Spiegelman is already doing your work for you. Maybe you have a place for him in your firm.”

Spiegelman flushed and Peacock laughed, but not too long or loudly. He also knew better than to speak again before spoken to. Spiegelman did not. Flustered, he tried to explain, digging the hole for himself even deeper. The judge let him finish.

“Well, I've heard about enough,” said the judge. “Chief Stone.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“What should I do with you? My guess is you're as guilty as guilty could be of what you're charged with. This may be Texas, young man, but at least in Vineland Park, we take a dim view of loaded weapons being drawn in public. A very dim view.”

“May I say something, Your Honor?” Jesse said.

Peacock looked displeased and grabbed Jesse by the forearm.

She nodded. “Please.”

“Given my training and expertise, I did what I did as a last resort and not carelessly or without respect for the law, Your Honor.”

“That's the first sensible thing I've heard this morning.” She addressed the court officers. “Release Chief Stone. Mr. Peacock will be informed of the trial date within the next several weeks, though given Mr. Spiegelman's questionable prosecutorial zeal and the lineup of people in the gallery, I doubt there will be a trial. Next.”

Jesse rubbed his wrists and walked back toward the gallery. Diana still had that bemused look on her face. Pruitt was smiling, too. Even Elroy Cates seemed relieved. Jenn, on the other hand, looked about as happy as the judge had been. Angry heat was coming off Jenn in waves, and Jesse was thankful to be in a crowded public place. But it was Hale's expression that really concerned Jesse. Something was up. He'd see about that soon enough. For now, he was just happy to be with Diana.

Jesse asked Hunsicker if he and Diana could get a ride back to the hotel after he collected his personal effects. Hunsicker balked.

“Why don't you guys come to the house? We'll fix you up with some food and clothes, Jesse. Let you get a shower or a dip in the whirlpool.”

Jesse could tell it wasn't a request, and he was curious about what was going on, anyway. Diana also read Hale's body language and heard the strain in his voice.

“Sure, Hale,” she said. “Let's do that, Jesse. Okay? With the wedding in two days, I'm sure Jenn could use some help.”

It seemed the only one unhappy about the plan was Jenn, but she said nothing.

B
ack at the house, Jesse actually did shower and shave. He didn't know how Hunsicker managed it, but there were new clothes in the right sizes waiting for him when he was ready to get dressed. The jeans were fine, as were the running shoes, as was the burnt-orange-and-white Longhorns T-shirt. The four of them even managed a civil if somewhat awkward breakfast together, Jenn glaring at Jesse through most of it. As he ate his omelet and drank his coffee, Jesse couldn't quite figure out exactly what he was supposed to have done to prevent what had gone on the night before. It wasn't as if Hale had given him a choice of venue for dinner or drinks, and there was no accounting for Elroy Cates's movements.

As the meal drew to an end, though, it dawned on him. The reasons for Jenn's anger were suddenly obvious. Jenn had a problem, one that Jesse didn't fix. Worse, he couldn't fix. Oh, he'd prevented Hale from killing Elroy Cates. He'd fixed that, all right, managing to get himself arrested in the process. The deeper problem lay not with Jesse, but with Hale Hunsicker. For his part, Jesse had nearly forgotten who'd been the root cause of all the trouble. Although
Elroy Cates was the instigator, it wasn't him. The root cause was Cassie Cates. Cassie got under Jenn's skin way more than Diana ever could. And it seemed to Jesse that Hale had wanted Jesse to meet Cassie or, at least, knew running into her at the Jungle Bar would be a distinct possibility. Jesse didn't want to think about it, and Hunsicker saved him from having to.

“Ladies, if you'll excuse us,” Hale said, standing and putting a hand on Jesse's shoulder. “We have some things to discuss.”

Diana said, “Sure.”

Jenn pouted but kept quiet.

The two men moved into a room in the house Jesse hadn't been in or seen before. Well, there were about twenty of those, but this one was on the ground floor and not far from the room where the party had been held that first night he and Diana arrived in Dallas. It was what Hale politely referred to as a library, but it was more accurately a home office. The twenty-five-by-thirty room with twelve-foot ceilings was full of glass, steel, hardwood, and leather furniture. At least it looked used and worked in and not strictly for show. There were plenty of built-in bookshelves lined with books, most of which seemed never to have been touched by human hands. Jesse didn't judge him too harshly for that. Hale Hunsicker wouldn't be the first rich person to try to look like he'd read a lot more literature than he, in fact, had. What he did judge Hunsicker harshly for was walking him into his drama with the Cateses while they were in the midst of this thing with Peepers.

It took a few seconds for Jesse to notice that Scott Kahan had reappeared and was standing behind Hunsicker's desk, staring out the big leaded windows of diamond-shaped panes at the small lake beside the house. He didn't acknowledge Jesse's or his boss's presence,
which suited Jesse just fine. Jesse had something to say to Hunsicker before they moved on.

“What the fuck was that about last night, Hale?”

Hunsicker tried to look shocked, but failed badly. “What about last night?”

“That whole thing with Cassie Cates. That wasn't an accident, and please don't insult my intelligence by claiming otherwise.”

“Can't this hold for a little while longer? Scott's got some—”

“No, Hale, I don't think so.” Jesse pointed at Hale. “Your heart's torn about your old girlfriend, okay, I understand that. But you better not walk down that aisle with Jenn if you're going to screw around on her with Cassie. Jenn's not my business anymore, but that doesn't mean I don't care. I wouldn't be here if I didn't care. Jenn isn't stupid. She knows something's up with you.”

“I know she's not stupid, and yeah, I guess that I was the stupid one last night, dragging you to the Jungle Bar. And I won't claim it was the bourbon, though it helped. I just wanted to see Cassie one more time before the wedding is all. I knew she'd be all over me, and I guess I wanted to test myself.”

“Pass or fail?”

“Don't worry about Jenn and me, Jesse. I won't blow up the best thing that's ever happened to me. Promise.”

Jesse didn't bother carrying it any further. What was he going to do, threaten the man? To what end? Hale and Jenn were adults, and Jesse hoped they both knew what they were getting into. One thing Jesse wasn't going to get into was some bullheaded attempt to save Jenn from herself. He'd said his piece and that was that.

“Besides,” Hunsicker said, “Scott here really does have some important information.”

“I'm listening.”

Kahan turned around to face Jesse. He nodded hello. Jesse nodded back. Kahan picked a file up off the top of his boss's desk and walked it over to Jesse. He didn't hand it to him. Instead, he looked Jesse in the eye and said, “Peepers is alive and he's here.”

J
esse had sensed as much about Peepers. Even in the immediate wake of the explosion and fire, even after the results on the .22 he'd recovered at the scene, he had never felt confident that the man who died in that car was Peepers. He simply had been willing to let himself hope just a little. Still, he needed more than Kahan's word.

“Proof?”

Kahan handed Jesse a time-stamped photo.

“That was taken from surveillance footage at Will Rogers Airport in Oklahoma City. As you can see by the stamp, he got in from Baltimore yesterday afternoon.”

Jesse didn't say anything as he studied the image. It wasn't exactly high-resolution, though the man pictured certainly resembled Peepers.

“Looks like it could be him,” Jesse said at last.

“I figured that would be your attitude. And I can understand your hesitancy, but it's definitely him. Check this out.”

Kahan went back to Hunsicker's desk, scooped up a tablet, tapped the screen, and offered it to Jesse. “Watch.”

It was surveillance video of the man in the still photo, showing
him as he moved through the terminal. There he was, on line at the rental counter. Jesse felt sudden discomfort as he watched the man who Kahan claimed was Peepers standing impatiently, being ignored by the woman behind the counter. He remembered what Belinda Yankton had told him about Peepers's distaste for rudeness. Then Jesse exhaled when the woman at the rental counter waved the man over and smiled at him. There was nothing extraordinary about the remainder of their exchange.

“The silver Honda Fit with Arizona tags was rented to a Mr. Milton James of 2231 Moony Road, Pewaukee, Wisconsin,” Kahan said. “Only problem is there is no such person and no such street address, though the credit card he used was valid. This guy, whoever he really is, is good. Probably has twenty different identities, credit cards, passports, phony addresses.”

Jesse listened but continued watching. Then he saw it, that smile. Until he saw that smug, self-satisfied smile, the one Belinda Yankton had so eloquently described, he was willing to be unconvinced that the man he was watching was Peepers. But it was frightening how accurate Yankton's depiction of the smile was.

“It's like he's the king of the world and ruler of the universe,” she'd said to Jesse as he held her hand at the kitchen table the previous morning. “Lord Jesus, that smile would chill me, Jesse. It was as if he had some secret knowledge or he found something amusing the rest of us couldn't possibly get.”

Jesse put the tablet down at his side. “You wouldn't want to tell me how you got access to this footage, would you?”

Kahan laughed. “I asked for it. You just have to know who to ask.”

“Okay, even if I'm ninety percent sure this is—”

“It's him. It's good not to just accept things at face value, Jesse. It's one of the first things you learn in intel. Don't act immediately on
information unless there's no choice. Question. Question. Question. And when you're sure, question it again. Then test it. But that's him.”

“What about the guy in Paradise?” Jesse asked. “I checked with my people there last night before I went with Hale to Javier's and they said the CSU people still weren't finished with the scene.”

Kahan handed Jesse the folder he'd been holding since just after Jesse and Hale had walked into the library.

“See for yourself. The man killed in the car you were chasing in Paradise was Michael Scott Atkinson, a former Army Ranger with a history of violence both in and out of the service. Came home from his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan and went into business for himself, putting his skills to more profitable and less patriotic uses. Peepers might work alone, but he's in the business. It's a different business than most, but it's a business just the same. You hear about people, know their reps. Peepers probably hired Atkinson to screw around with you and then things worked out better than Peppers could have dreamed. And look at Atkinson's photo. He's bigger than Peepers, a little more imposing, but you wouldn't necessarily remember his face.”

Jesse studied the photo. He didn't look much like Peepers, yet Kahan had a point: This guy had an unremarkable and forgettable face. Jesse could see how Alisha, already busy on the phone, might have been suggestible to Jesse's questions. She saw who Jesse had prompted her to see and Jesse leapt to conclusions because the delivery of the plain envelope fit a familiar scenario.

“We've also got photos of the car headed toward Dallas,” Kahan said, his voice nearly as smug as Peepers's smile. “He's alive and he's here.”

But when Jesse flipped the photo over and saw a DNA report that proved the body in the car was Atkinson's, he was confused.

“How did you—”

“I called in a few favors,” Kahan said. “There are people in several governments, including ours, who owe me a few. It's amazing what kind of results you can get when people are properly motivated.”

For some reason Jesse found he was furious with Kahan. He should have been glad that they knew things for sure now. They knew Peepers was alive and in the Dallas area. Yet it was all Jesse could do to contain his anger. Maybe it was Jesse's innate uneasiness about unequal justice. How the rich and powerful could get what they wanted just because they could, not because they earned it. They could get access to things the rest of us couldn't dream of. Maybe it was that he resented Kahan's treatment of the law and procedures as mere inconveniences. Less than inconveniences. But you couldn't shove the genie back into the bottle and un-know things. So Jesse kept quiet. Keeping Jenn safe and putting an end to Peepers was what was important.

Hunsicker spoke up for the first time in several minutes. “So what do we do? Do we finally alert the media and bring down the weight of all the law enforcement agencies? I mean, look, fellas, we know where he is and he doesn't know we know.”

“Don't be so sure,” Jesse said. “He took the precaution of landing in Oklahoma, but he did everything but wave at the camera. When he killed Gino Fish's assistant, he disguised himself from the cameras. You can't try and outthink him, you have to think along with him.”

Kahan nodded in agreement. “He's right, Hale. We may know he's here, but we don't know where here. He's already most likely ditched the rental and either stolen another car or rented one under a different alias.”

As if on cue, Kahan's phone buzzed. He excused himself and answered it. Mostly he nodded and made noises that let the person
on the other end know he was listening. He put the phone back in his pocket.

“A contact in the Dallas PD,” Kahan said. “They just found Milton James's rental over in West Dallas, not too far from where he kept Belinda Yankton. And before you ask, no, there are no new reports of a stolen car from that area yet.”

“What do we do?” Hunsicker asked, looking more than a little worried. “The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner are tonight.”

Kahan looked at Jesse, and Jesse back at him. There was no need for words between them. They tilted their heads at Hunsicker as if to say “Who's going to tell him?” Jesse pointed at himself. Kahan nodded.

“We do exactly what we were supposed to do. We go ahead with the rehearsal and the dinner. I doubt Peepers will make his move in front of a small audience. He wants the big stage.”