The Guardian (2 page)

Still, it didn’t feel entirely right.

The house was a smallish Victorian. It had a widow’s walk and a beautiful view of their cove. The cove itself was a deep cut into the mainland; high, rocky walls rose out of the water and led back to a pristine sandy beach. And it was for that beach he and his brother had named the place, simply enough, the Sands. The house had been set where Ross’s great-grandfather could watch his fleet come in. The old man had made his money on shipping, and the cove had been his private working port. Back when the name Stearns had meant something.

Now the family was down to two brothers who loved each other but had to work at getting along. And the cove, ten acres in all, was still beautiful and gave the appearance of privacy. But it was surrounded by encroaching industrial sites on every side.

Ross figured replacing the dock and doing the remaining work on the house would take him through the summer, and then he’d have to get a real job right after Labor Day. He intended to live there until the other parcels sold. Then, after he paid Greg back for the legal fees, Ross figured he’d get himself another boat. Get his life fully back on track.

Ross put the level on the lower rail and found that it, too, was fine. Some of the satisfaction returned, and he smiled, thinking once again that just being out on his own meant his life was already back on track. Thoughts of the upcoming vacation with his brother’s family suffused him with a steady pulse right under his breastbone that he recognized as happiness.

He was telling himself that he’d even indulge Greg and listen to his advice when his cell phone rang. Ross jogged out to the truck to get the bad news about his godchild.

Chapter 3

Greg’s BMW and a Volkswagen with roof racks were in the driveway of his house. Allie Pearson’s car.

Ross let himself in.

Beth made it into the foyer first. Her face was pale, and he could read the disappointment on her face; he read instantly that the very sound of the door opening must’ve given her the hope that somehow, some way, her daughter would be walking through. She’d clearly been crying.

Greg was right behind her. “You told no one, right?”

“That’s right.” Ross held Beth briefly, felt the rigidness of her back.

She pulled away to look at him, her dark blue eyes intent. “Please. Anything you can tell us about someone who’d do this, anything… .”

Ross simply nodded, masking his reaction to her assumption that he knew more about people who robbed stores than they did. Because, of course, he now did. And he also knew there had been stories at Concord Prison about families of inmates being harassed for money, sometimes worse.

Ross squeezed Greg’s arm. He had a large bruise over his left eye and his lip was puffed and split. Greg said, “Allie called me tonight, and I told her what had happened, and to come right away. We’re going to have to raise some money fast.”

Allie joined them and waited impatiently. She was their attorney, a striking woman with dark auburn hair and green eyes. And a month ago, she’d been Ross’s lover for all of about two weeks.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ross,” she said. “Tell them this is crazy. Tell them we need the police.”

“No,” Greg said. “We want Janine back fast, and I don’t want to screw around with experts who’ve got their own ax to grind. This guy wants money, and he’s going to get it.”

“Have you heard from them yet?” Ross asked.

“No.”

“How long has it been?”

“Four and a half hours.” Beth’s voice was barely audible.

Ross walked them back into the dining room. The telephone rested at the head of the table, and Ross found himself looking at it as Greg talked, as if it were a fifth person.

Greg went through the robbery and abduction quickly, starting with when the gunman walked through the door.

“You didn’t see anyone following you in the car beforehand?” Ross asked. “Any strange phone calls the week before? Or anybody you didn’t know show up at your door?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Beth?”

She looked off to the side, then turned back. “No one out of the ordinary. The mailman, the boy who cuts the grass, the pool guy. All people we know.”

“Describe how the guy behaved again.”

“Excited,” Greg said. “Not quite angry, but pumped up. Seemed to be enjoying himself.” Greg touched the bruise on his temple.

“Not scared? A lot of guys go in there shaking as bad as the people behind the counter.”

“Not that I could tell. But he had a mask on.”

“But what’s your impression? Was he in control? Or totally off?”

“Somewhere in between.”

“Was he skinny or heavy?”

“Skinny.”

Ross found himself relax slightly. A guy he’d had problems with got paroled around the same time he had. But no one would have ever described Teague as skinny. Teague was a moonfaced biker, with a scraggly goatee and shaved head. Ross asked, “How did this guy smell, like he hadn’t bathed recently?”

“Smell?” Beth asked.

“He’s trying to figure out if the guy was a junkie,” Allie said.

“I didn’t notice a bad smell particularly,” Greg said. “But the guy certainly seemed wired enough. He could be a junkie.”

“Why’d you jump him?”

Ross asked the question without accusation, but Greg flushed angrily. “Goddamn it, Ross. He was going to take her.”

“He said that? ‘I’m going to take her’?”

Allie raked her hair back angrily. “Look, Ross, if we were crossing the Atlantic, I’d listen to your advice. But being an ex-con doesn’t make you a kidnapping expert. We
need
the police.”

Out in the open,
Ross thought.

Allie had broken up with him after it became apparent his long-range plans involved a sailboat and a distant destination. Not that different from his ex-wife’s disenchantment with him, he’d realized. But Allie had come from an entirely different angle. Whereas Cynthia had been drifting herself in many ways, Allie was an extremely motivated woman. Maybe it was because she had been an assistant district attorney, or maybe it was her tough upbringing in upstate Maine, or maybe it was just a fundamental difference between her and Ross, as deep as their blood cells. She had no patience with drifting. And that’s the way she saw his sailing to the Caribbean.

“I think you’re right,” Ross said.

Allie looked surprised but said nothing.

“The two of you, listen to me,” Greg said. “I don’t need arguments. I need your help getting me a buyer, getting me that cash.”

Allie’s tone with Greg was gentler. “Greg, the odds are slightly better if you involve the police, the FBI actually. It’d be the FBI that’d run it, being a kidnapping. They know so much more about it. They can put wiretaps in, bring all sorts of trained personnel.”

“Greg?” Beth leaned forward.

Greg rubbed his face, then abruptly shoved away from the table. “Don’t talk statistics at me. Don’t tell me what on average should be done, and how federal personnel are going to make it all better. I don’t need some guy in a nice suit telling me, ‘sorry, we found your daughter’s body with our dogs and ‘personnel. I had the kidnapper tell me to my face that he would let her go if I did what he said. He was wearing a mask; she shouldn’t be able to identify him. Beth and I sure can’t identify him. What’s he got to lose? I give him the cash; he gives me my girl.… I’m wishing the guy well. I’m wishing the guy a goddamn vacation for the rest of his life, on me. I want Janine back, and I will play ball with this bastard to get it. So if either of you decide you know what’s best and trip me up on this, I will break you in half.”

“Greg, I—” Ross started to say.

“I mean it!” Greg hit the table with his fist. “You owe me, Ross. I need you to stand behind me.”

Ross’s blood quickened, but he kept his mouth shut. He was willing to argue with his brother—if he knew the right answer. But he really didn’t. When it was all said and done, Greg had listened to the guy, and he hadn’t.

Finally, he said, “Whatever you want.”

“I only want to do the right thing by Janine,” Allie said. “You know that.”

“So get us a buyer,” Beth said quietly.

Allie turned to Ross. “It’s your land, too. You’ll sign, won’t you?”

“Sure, we already made that decision. But that’s not going to be the quickest way.”

“Hell of a time to be cash-poor,” Greg said hoarsely. “I could scrape up five, maybe ten thousand in cash. Maybe up to fifty if I throw myself on some friends … but they’d end up talking to the cops, someone would.”

“Your business is that bad?”

“It’s that bad. We’re staving off bankruptcy. There’s simply no lump for me to get my hands on, not if this guy comes back looking for any sizable amount of money. I’ve got the house mortgaged to the hilt, and you know we’ve had no luck selling it. I’d never get a loan of any size.”

“How about if we just put the Sands up as collateral on a loan?” Ross asked. “That might be faster.”

“I can’t imagine a banker not calling the police on this,” Greg said. “What do you think, Allie?”

She nodded reluctantly. “It would be the rare banker who could leave the police out of it.”

Greg continued. “Maybe I could sell the car fast, but it’s got over fifty thousand miles on it, I’d be lucky to get fifteen or twenty grand.”

“Jesus.” Ross knew the business hadn’t been doing that well, but nothing like this. Greg had based his computer reseller business on two manufacturers who were both having serious problems. Consequently, his own sales had gone south. And Ross still owed him over fifty thousand dollars for legal fees. “You think we can find a buyer to move that fast?” Ross asked.

“You know how many offers we’ve had.”

“Yes, but to move so fast? And what if the kidnapper insists on more than the parcels we had in mind? Total, it’s assessed at, what, a little over five million?”

“What are you going to say if the guy calls insisting on more than we can do?” Beth asked.

Greg shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Chapter 4

The night before, the woman had put her coat over Janine’s head and told to her stay on the floor of the car.

Janine had buried her face in the dirty carpet and squeezed her eyes shut. Without quite thinking it through, she’d known it would be bad to see the man, to really see his face.

He talked fast. Swearing. “Goddamn,
goddamn.
We’re making it big with this one, babe.”

He yelled things to the woman. “Don’t use my name. Got it?” Or, “We’re gonna be cold on this, babe. Fucking ice water.”

“Did you have to shoot that man?” the woman said, once, quietly.

“Hey, I did what I had to do. I can do it with the little chick, too.”

Then he talked to Janine. “Tell me about your house. How big is it? How many rooms? You got a swimming pool? Huh? You’re a smart kid, how much money does your daddy make?”

Janine didn’t answer.

She didn’t think he really wanted her to. Sometimes adults did that, asked questions but didn’t really expect her to talk.

But this time, the woman nudged her. “Tell him, sweetie. You got a pool?”

Janine nodded her head.

“Yes, she’s got a pool,” the woman said. “Now, sweetie, how about your dad? You know how much money he makes?” The woman rested her hand on Janine’s head, and, after a second, Janine shook it no.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Bullshit!” The front seat thumped near where Janine’s head was and she cried out. “You want me to stop this car?” The man’s voice had kind of a laugh in it that terrified Janine all the more. She tried to dig deeper into the floor. “You want me to stop this car and come back there?”

The woman said, “I don’t think she knows, really. Did you know what your dad made when you were a kid?” Her voice then got closer to Janine’s ear. “How old are you, kid?”

Janine didn’t said anything. Couldn’t speak.

The woman rested her hand on Janine’s head again. “Seven? Eight? Nine?”

Janine nodded.

“Nine,” the woman said. Her hand remained on Janine’s head for a second longer. “Nine,” she repeated, and then said to the man, “Did you know what your dad made when you were nine?”

“Yeah. Diddly-shit. And that he drank and pissed away.” The seat thumped near Janine’s ear again. “Better hope your daddy didn’t piss it all away on pools and BMWs. Better hope he’s got some left over for you.”

After a while, the car stopped and Janine could hear the man get out for a second. Then the car moved again, and she could hear a slamming sound. Like a garage door being closed. They shoved her up a lot of stairs and finally into a room, with the coat still over her head. Janine wondered if they were still wearing the masks and shuddered. Black-and-red faces. She could only see the floor; that’s all, a wooden gray floor.