Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (23 page)

FORTY-TWO

Madeline spent the rest of the day driving around the island, taking in the landmark sights and watching out for any possible tails. She imagined what Burt might do and tried to think proactively, executing sudden turns and doubling back, watching her rearview mirror for any copycats. It was easy to play lost and dumb in an area she’d never been before. But with all her efforts to trip up potential bad guys, she came to the conclusion none of her fellow travelers cared where she went. This was some comfort, and as she headed back toward Tumon Bay, she relaxed and enjoyed the scenery.

Though she felt confident she hadn’t been followed, she couldn’t shake the thought of Steven having her hotel room under surveillance. She remembered all too clearly Burt’s concern that both her homes had been bugged in her absence. How difficult could it really be for Steven to hire local talent? She’d already been framed as the cheating spouse and sent to Guam for an expedited dumping. What was to stop him from keeping her under a microscope until she’d completed her part of the bargain? She made a mental note to check online for private investigators on the island, see if she could find one who could at least prove her fears were unfounded.

The sun had just set as she cruised along Route 14A toward the ocean. When she came to the intersection at San Vitores Road, she turned left instead of right, which would’ve taken her to the Westin. She drove south to the last of the large hotels on the beachside of Tumon Bay, the Guam Hilton.

When she checked into the Westin, she had used the driver’s license bearing the name Madeline Ridley, the same name that appeared on her airline tickets. Before she went to the car rental agency, she switched that license out for the new one showing her name as Madeline Dawkins. It had been easier than she thought to get a new license in her maiden name, though she had to lie about losing her old one in order to keep it. Getting the new one before her trip was just a stroke of luck. Now, she effectively had two last names, and she was hoping the difference would be enough to keep her off Steven’s radar screen.

She let the valet take her car and the bellman handle her bags. Instead of checking in, she asked to speak to the hotel manager. As it was a Sunday evening, only the assistant manager was available.
So much the better,
Madeline thought, as a young, eager-to-please Chamorran woman came out to greet her.

She had changed her clothing after her shopping binge at the designer duty-free shops, and had added the appropriate amount of tasteful jewelry. She had to strike just the right chord: sympathetic on one hand, sophisticated and moneyed on the other.

She explained to the assistant manager her desire to check in unregistered, as she was eluding the unwanted attentions of a man who had developed something of an obsession with her. She was only on the island to establish residency for a divorce, and wished to remain as anonymous as possible.

The AM seemed enthralled by Madeline’s story and was quite eager to accommodate her needs. Madeline further ingratiated herself by requesting the best suite available for three nights, and swore to herself this would be the last of the splurges.

Once she was escorted to her new temporary lodgings, she was grateful she had opted for the extravagance. This was more her idea of vacationing in a tropical paradise. As nice as the Westin had been, she much preferred the spaciousness of the suite; it made her feel less claustrophobic and less like an exile. The suite was the size of a small apartment, with white shutters framing the views of palm trees and the beach beyond, large comfortable furnishings and an elegantly simple décor.

She had determined from her research that the Hilton, being older and the furthest away from the shopping and nightlife, was not as popular as the newer hotels closer to the action. It was also six hotels removed from where she was registered. If anyone had been watching her at the Westin, she felt confident they wouldn’t be able to trace her to this location. All she had to do was lie low, which wouldn’t be hard with all the investigation she needed to do.

Before she tackled the internet, she treated herself to a long soak in the huge granite tub. She then ordered room service. She made another list, this one of her most immediate tasks, while she waited for her dinner to be delivered.

First on the list: assessing the local P.I. offerings. If Steven did have someone keeping tabs on her, that would be significant. It would confirm that he didn’t take her compliance for granted, and that freeing himself up to remarry was an urgent priority.

It would also indicate he was more paranoid than she had expected. If her room at the Westin had been bugged, then Steven or his goons would’ve been aware of her reaction to Burt’s untimely death. If anyone in Steven’s employ had been connected to his demise, then it was a pretty sure bet they were aware Burt had been hired to get the dirt on Steven. If they hadn’t put one and one together before, it was likely they had by now.

If Steven or his associates were responsible for Burt’s death, then they were sure to have searched his office and home for any evidence he might’ve had. There was a tangled web of intrigue waiting for her back in Santa Barbara, and she had to glean as many facts as possible before waltzing back there.

She ate the delicious dinner of fresh Opah, steamed lemongrass rice and assorted vegetables, but hardly tasted it. Her mind was too preoccupied. She had the worst urge to call Mike, but it was the middle of the night for him. Even if he forgave her, he wouldn’t be sufficiently coherent to be of any use.

Damn,
Madeline thought; she’d have to wait another day and a half until that part of the world was open for business. Fortunately, she’d be able to scope out the local detectives and hopefully retain someone who could check out her room at the Westin for bugging devices. That would be a relief, one way or the other. Either way, she’d learn something about her enemy’s mindset.

After an hour’s worth of online research, Madeline was finding it harder to suppress the urge to speak to a confederate. It was now two in the morning, Los Angeles time. The old Mike would consider that still early, but she wasn’t sure if the older, more mature Mike would appreciate a call at that hour.
More mature Mike?
She placed the call. He answered after four rings.

“Sorry,” Madeline said in response to his groggy hello. “I forgot to call you earlier,” she said, trying to gauge his mood.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said. He treated her to a strenuous yawn. “2 a.m.?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be madder if I called too late or didn’t call at all,” she said.

“It’s okay. I would’ve freaked out if I’d woken up at a civilized hour and realized I hadn’t heard from you.”

“That’s what I was betting on. So, I just wanted to let you know I’m alright.”

“Good. Thanks,” he said, yawning again. One more yawn and he’d be wide awake.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Wait—are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m doing okay. Definitely better than earlier. Thanks for being there for me.”

“My pleasure. You know that.”

“If we keep talking, you’ll never go back to sleep,” Madeline said, secretly hoping he wouldn’t care. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Mike chuckled.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask if I’m sleeping with someone?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“You sure act like it is.”

“I did something kind of crazy today,” Madeline said, ignoring his last remark. It was rather selfish of her, but she knew Mike couldn’t resist confessions.

“You, something crazy? I don’t believe it.”

“I rented a car and took a drive around the island.”

“Yeah?” Mike said, clearly disappointed.

“I left the hotel I was staying at, leaving most of my stuff behind. Then, after I was sure no one was following me, I checked into another hotel, away from the crowds, and far enough away from the other hotel to throw someone off the scent.” She could hear rustling on Mike’s end as he got out of bed.

“Did anything trigger this wacky bit of subterfuge?”

“I guess I just got spooked. There was a guy who kept popping up…I think he was probably just a guy on the make, but it got me to thinking about how vulnerable I am…was…”

“That settles it. I’m getting on a plane and I’m coming to get you,” Mike said.

“No, you’re not. I shouldn’t have called you. I should’ve let you sleep.”

“Why did you call?” Madeline was caught off guard by the tone in his voice. “You called me knowing I was probably cutting Z’s. You’re scared, and it sounds like you have every reason to be. I’m coming to get you and I won’t take no for an answer.” Madeline held her forehead with the palm of her hand. She’d really done it this time.

“You’re right about one thing—I was scared. But I’m not anymore. I was able to check into this hotel on the sly, and as far as the rest of the world knows, I’m still staying at the Westin. I’m going to hire a local gumshoe tomorrow and have him check out that room, just to put my mind at rest. If he doesn’t find any bugs, then I’ve let my imagination get the best of me. So, see—there’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

“Looks like I can still catch the 8:26 flight, which is only a few hours from now.”

“Mike, didn’t you hear me? I said I’m fine. I should’ve never called you so late. You’re in a susceptible state of mind right now and you think you need to come and rescue me. It’s my fault. I’m sorry. But please, Mike—do not do anything stupid like getting on a plane to Guam. Really. I mean it—I don’t want you to come. I need to do some heavy-duty thinking and I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you worrying about me.”

“Sorry, faulty logic. I’m not buying it.”

“What can I say to make you change your mind?” Madeline asked.

“You sound like a hostage negotiator.”

“C’mon, Mikey—”

“Don’t “Mikey” me,” Mike said testily.

“I should’ve never gotten you involved in this,” Madeline lamented.

“That’s bullshit. I’m glad you did. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, you already know that.”

“Then please drop the coming to rescue me idea,” she said.

“No.”

“You just said you’d do anything for me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mike protested.

“So, you’d rather give me one more thing to worry about than do as I ask.”

“No, of course not. I just want to protect you.”

“And exactly how are you going do to that? Right now, we don’t even know for sure if I have any reason to be afraid. You could spend thousands of dollars and the equivalent of a day and a half traveling for nothing. And honestly, I do feel safer now that I’ve changed hotels. Let me find a P.I. and then I’ll know for sure if I’m being hysterical or not. Okay…?” The line was quiet. “Mike?”

“Okay, I see your point. But you can’t blame me for being worried. Look at all that’s happened to you…this is some spooky shit. I mean, this kind of stuff doesn’t happen to the average person. You’d think you were some CIA operative, not a charity fundraiser, for Chrissakes.”

“Believe me, I know. The last two weeks have been completely surreal. But I just don’t think there’s any reason for you to come rushing to save me yet. I may need your help when I get back to Santa Barbara, but it seems highly unlikely anything is going to happen to me while I’m here. So, sorry I woke you up and got you all worried. I’ll call you tomorrow at a more reasonable time once I’ve got something newsworthy to report. Okay?”

“Alright,” Mike relented. “Call me tomorrow, and don’t forget.” Madeline assured him she would and hung up. She sat with phone in hand, hoping she hadn’t been too glib. For all she knew, her sense of security could merely be an illusion.

FORTY-THREE

After Madeline hung up with Mike, she resumed her research. Unfortunately, the listings for private investigators on Guam were fairly scant. The same agency held the first seven of the eight listings on her search. She would’ve felt more comfortable with a larger selection, but she checked out the Hobart Detective Agency anyway. It was a respectable enough site, but it was a fairly large operation. That had put her off when choosing a P.I. in Santa Barbara.

Thinking of the lone P.I. brought her mind back around to Burt. She bit the inside of her lip as she fought back the tears. She felt in her bones that she’d been the catalyst to his death. That would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The only way she could assuage her guilt was to avenge his death. The only way she could do that was to find out who was responsible. That would hinge on being able to find another private detective in S.B. And she probably couldn’t even begin the interview process for another 36 hours. Her stomach churned at the thought of all the daunting tasks ahead of her.

She backed out of the Hobart site and scanned the search results again. The only other listing shown was PIs.com. She gave it a try, finding what she had expected: a countrywide map, including Guam, for clicking on. But as she moved her cursor to the tiny dot on the map, the left-hand panel caught her eye. She then realized this site was meant for industry use as well as public use.

She became more intrigued as she read down the available options. She was able to search by specific need: infidelity specialist, background investigations, missing persons, etc. As she scrolled down the side bar, she came across something that really piqued her interest. She stared at the “Espionage Store” link for a couple of seconds before its potential registered. She clicked on it and a page of electronic equipment appeared showing items she’d only been marginally aware of through watching spy capers.

But as she read over the descriptions of this bounty of spyware, her pulse started to race. Here, for purchase, was the answer to her most pressing concerns: a multi-functional portable sweep device, roughly the size of a walkie-talkie. And it could be hers for a mere $500.

As she read through the description of the instrument’s capabilities, she was awakened to the complexities of the P.I. game. This one gadget could detect wired and wireless cameras, mics, phone taps, and computer bugging devices.

She sat back, suddenly wary of her computer. She had felt smart ditching her old iPhone and replacing it with one under her maiden name and social; her old phone had been on Steven’s account under his SSN. He wouldn’t have access to her new account, and that gave her a sense of security. But she had been oblivious to the danger of having her movements tracked through her computer.

She regarded her laptop as she digested all this new—possibly invaluable—information. If she could arm herself with her own equipment, like this sweeping device, she wouldn’t need to hunt around for two different private detectives. That would resolve so many issues for her. But she felt uncomfortable making a purchase like that on her computer, just in case it had been bugged, or worse yet, hacked. The thought had never occurred to her before.

She consulted the hotel’s directory of services and amenities. As she suspected, there was a business center that was open all hours to accommodate their international clientele.
Perfect,
Madeline thought, as she slipped into a T-shirt and jeans, and went in search of an anonymous computer.

Because of the hour, she had the place to herself. She typed in the URL and went right to the “Tools of the Trade” section. She already knew what she wanted, but she became fascinated by all the handy devices that made modern-day sleuthing a whole lot easier.

As she read one product description after another, she had to wonder if Burt had an arsenal of this kind of gadgetry stashed in his home or office. As with every time she thought of him, a horrible mixture of anxiety and guilt resurfaced. She couldn’t get past their last conversation, when she thought she was being resolute instead of fainthearted; in reality she had been cavalier with Burt’s life.

Her sense of anxiety and loss made her feel morose. She stared at the computer with unseeing eyes. What was she playing at? Did she really think she was any match for Steven and his gang? Even with all the new evidence to the contrary, it was hard for her to replace the image of the man she’d loved for thirteen years with his calculating, heartless alter ego.

Subconsciously, she kept reverting to the hope that this was just a bizarre aberration in Steven’s character and would soon pass. But as she tried to take the fantasy to the next level—a tearful reconciliation and the simultaneous departure of the divorcée from Boston—she knew she was clinging to a life that had simply ceased to exist.

She berated herself as the sting of tears warned of another breakdown. But it was no use. There was so much hurt, loss, anger and resentment burbling up inside her. The only way to expel it was through a torrent of tears. Even as she succumbed, she felt the tandem urge for physical violence; crying her eyes out repeatedly wasn’t going to give vent to all her feelings of frustration and rage. She thought of the gym, but that fell short of her desire to inflict pain on her persecutor.

Oh, Steven—if I had you in front of me right now, I would rip your eyes out
, she swore to herself. But instead of making her calmer, the curse only made her feel more frustrated. Steven wasn’t there, and the likelihood of ever having the opportunity to get even with him was remote. She turned back to the computer screen and tried to focus on her reason for being there.

The image of Burt rose up in her mind’s eye, this time bringing her strength and determination.
Think like Burt
, she prodded herself. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, willing her body to relax and her mind to sharpen. After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes, alert and eager to proceed.

What Burt would do was use every bit of his intelligence and every tiny clue to figure out Steven’s game plan. He had laid out all the pieces she had given him and saw right away that Steven’s actions were linked to financial dealings gone awry. She had the benefit of Burt’s insight and she had access to this website, which would give her the tools she needed to catch Steven at his own game…if her mind didn’t cave in to her emotions.

Mentally refreshed and stimulated, Madeline resumed her perusal of all the nifty electronic gear she could arm herself with. Each item she clicked on gave her an education in the world of spy vs. spy. As she added items to her cart, she could feel the wheels of her mind turning, incorporating each new fact into the lacy network of knowledge her brief association with Burt Latham had given her.

After nearly an hour in the business center, Madeline had five indispensable items in her shopping cart: the portable sweep, a 128-hour digital voice recorder pen, a GPS tracker that fit in the palm of your hand, a 16 GB high-resolution mini camcorder, and a pair of small, powerful binoculars.

She could’ve kept going, but a new concern occurred to her: how fast could she get the bug scanner? The fastest shipping option offered was second-day air. That wasn’t going to be soon enough. She saw an 800 number at the top of the screen and called it. Her brain was too overwhelmed to figure the time difference; either someone answered or they didn’t.

On the third ring, a live voice greeted her and asked how he might be of assistance. Madeline explained her desire to purchase the handheld Multifunctional Portable Sweep and asked if they offered a next-day shipping option. She told the customer service rep there were other items she wanted shipped to her mailbox in Santa Barbara, their arrival to coincide with her return from Guam. He placed her on hold for a moment while he conferred with his supervisor.

“We can get the portable sweep to your hotel in Guam within 24 hours, at an additional cost of $150. Will that work for you?”

“Yes, that’ll work perfectly,” Madeline said, goose bumps running up her arms as she realized what she had just accomplished.

Her next task was to arrange for the front desk to sign for the delivery. She sent an email to the Assistant Manager asking her to inform all the front desk personnel of a very important package that would be arriving within a day, and requested that she be sent a text upon its arrival. That taken care of, she shut down the computer and made her way back to her room, thoroughly exhausted but calmer than she’d felt in weeks.