Desperate Measures (30 page)

“I’m on my way to the site in a few minutes to meet the realtor. I know I can lowball her in the selling price. I’ve been coming here for fifteen years, the only thing that place is doing is becoming more and more deteriorated. The cost of reconstruction should be nothing for our needs.” Caitlin was silent for a minute.

“Yes I know. I already met with the Chamber of Commerce when I was here a few months ago and presented the business plan. They’re all for it, if it helps the economy of the island and creates jobs for the locals, as long as we’re not generating hazardous waste.”

After another pause, Caitlin spoke again, “Steve, forget it, okay? You don’t need to apologize. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. The hurricane looks like it won’t affect the lab in Florida and from what you’ve told me about Brad’s results, we’re gonna make it, without my grandfather!”

Chris’s ears perked up at that last phrase. What the hell did that mean, without her grandfather? Did she know more than she let on? Was the whole scheme a ruse?

Ending the call, Caitlin uncrossed her sexy legs and stood. “Ready?”

“Yup.” He opened the door and they strode out of the room. No one else had woken up. A note lay on the dining room table, notifying Pam and Mitch where they’d be for the next hour or so.

In the parking lot, Caitlin climbed into the passenger seat of the small American made stick shift Jeep. Chris situated himself in the driver’s side and reminded himself they drove on the left here. He put the key in the ignition and grabbed for the gear shift in front of the center console. At that moment, Caitlin shifted her legs over to place the large stack of documents she brought with her on the floor beneath her feet. Chris grabbed the knob and thrust his hand sharply to the right to put the jeep in reverse. His large college ring got caught on Caitlin’s skirt, causing it to rise above her thighs.

“Damn!” Chris muttered at the sight of those long, tanned and incredibly sexy muscular thighs.

Unfazed, Caitlin apologized, “Oops, sorry about that. I just wanted to put these papers down.” She lifted up off of the seat and pulled her skirt back down. “I would have worn shorts but wanted to look somewhat professional. This outfit is equivalent to a three piece suit here.”

Chris grunted in frustration, backed out of the parking spot and drove onto the beach road that would take them into the mountains. “You look fine, which way do I go?”

Still woozy and unsteady on his feet, Tomas needed help to get out of the police car. Tomas knew he had to be clear headed and alert but had trouble accomplishing this. Scott rang the bell and Drew pulled them inside. Scott inquired how far he’d gotten in the questioning of Mrs. Willis.

Drew answered, “Not far. I just notified her that her sister was in the hospital when you two got here.” Drew directed his attention to Tomas and asked, “How the hell did you get here this fast and are you cleared for release from the doctor?”

“Later,” Tomas said.

They entered the living room where an elderly woman cried softly. She looked frail and troubled. They approached her with caution.

Tomas started the questioning. “Mrs. Willis, I know you’re upset but when did you see your sister last?”

Bernice looked up with teary eyes. “This past spring. Please! Won’t anyone tell me what this is about? Chief Porter said my sister is in the hospital. Can’t someone tell me if she’s all right? She sounded horrible when she called yesterday morning.”

The three men shot sharp glances at one another.

Tomas sat down next to Bernice. “Your sister is fine and should be released from the hospital in New York within a few hours. We have a few questions for you and need to know exactly what she said yesterday. Can you tell me?”

Bernice sniffled and sat up straight. “It was the strangest thing. When I answered the phone, I could tell at once that she was calling from the airport. I heard announcements one after another for flights and boarding calls. Mabel didn’t sound anything like herself.”

This comment warranted another round of perceptive looks between the men. They remained silent and let Bernice explain.

“She said she got to the airport but felt horrible, had been fighting a bad cold for several days, hoarse and coughing a lot, and felt like she had a fever. She apologized but wanted to go back home to bed, and postpone her trip until she felt better. I told her to see a doctor if she didn’t get better in the morning.” Bernice crumbled again and started crying. “She doesn’t have pneumonia does she?”

Tomas stood and reassured Bernice. “No she doesn’t have pneumonia. I’m sure she’ll call you in a few hours.” At this point, he didn’t want to reveal that her sister had been drugged. “Thank-you for your help, Mrs. Willis.”

Tomas’s cell-phone rang. Before taking the call, he shook Bernice’s hand, leaving Scott and Drew to wrap up the formalities. Caller ID showed Rich. “Yeah, Rich, it’s me, Tomas.”

“Thank God. You’ve been in the hospital down there and with all this action in New York, I’ve become the point man in this investigation. What the hell’s happening? I’m still monitoring these god dammed flights and you’re not going to believe who just booked a ticket to St. Kitts from Miami.”

Still groggy and grumpy, in no mood for games, Tomas answered, “No I’m not, so just tell me for Chrissakes!”

“Constance Spencer.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tomas’s head pounded, not only from the drug, but the fast pace of the turn of events.

“Constance Spencer just checked in at the American Airlines counter in Miami and paid cash.”

“Son of a bitch, did someone grab her?” Tomas growled.

“Hold on, I’m in New York remember? I’ve already called and alerted the agents monitoring that flight to be on the lookout. They all have her picture and will apprehend her.”

Hanging up with Rich, Tomas called the Spencer house in Florida. Jack answered on the first ring. “Jack, it’s Tomas. Where’s Constance?”

“She and Dean are on a flight to Atlanta. What’s this about?”

“I don’t know right now but a Constance Spencer fitting your wife’s description just booked a flight from Miami to St. Kitts. Are you sure she’s on her way to Atlanta?”

“I’m positive, she can’t leave the country. She lost her passport and the replacement hasn’t arrived yet. Whoever the hell booked the flight is not my wife,” Jack declared.

“I’ve gotta go, Jack.”

* * * *

A sense of doom surrounded Jack. He tapped a small blue booklet, on the cover
Passport, United States of America
was written in gold lettering. Everything finally clicked into place. The mystery of the missing passport solved, Jack knew who had it. He had been so wrong and now his daughter was in jeopardy. Jack slumped to the floor, overwhelmed by guilt. Deep in thought he started to replace the phone back into the base but first he unscrewed the phone and took it apart piece by piece. Sure enough, he found a listening device the size of a small button implanted into the phone.

“Son of a bitch, he’s been here, stolen the passport, and planted this thing! No wonder he’s been a step ahead of everyone!” Jack yelled into the empty room. He needed to talk to Barry, now. Another call to the man’s cell-phone went directly to voice mail.

Not many options presented themselves. Jack ran to his closet and retrieved a small hand held tape recorder. Anything taped on the instrument would be inadmissible in court, it didn’t matter; nothing regarding this case could be resolved by the judicial system.

* * * *

“What the hell do you mean? It couldn’t possibly be her! I had a message from Jack this morning. She’s on her way to Atlanta with her son Dean! Shit and dammit all to hell. What time does the plane land?” After the barrage of explosive comments and questions, Barry slammed the phone down.

Lukas reviewed a pile of papers and dropped them on the floor. “What is it? Is Caitlin safe?”

“For the time being but Constance Spencer just checked in on a flight from Miami. I’ll give you one guess where the flight is landing.”

“It’s not Constance.” Lukas picked up the phone to alert his pilot for an immediate take off. He held his hand over the mouthpiece and verified the time with Barry. “You said the plane arrives at 3:00 this afternoon?”

“3:30.” Barry had a lot of questions but let Lukas finish speaking to his pilot. The sooner the Bucklin jet could get to St. Kitts the better.

Lukas relayed the information, ended the call, and retrieved his passport. “Get your ass moving. We’ll be on that island before the plane leaves the gate in Miami.”

Chasing after the surprisingly fit eighty-three-year-old man, Barry shouted, “Back to your comment. I know it’s not Constance but what the hell do you know that you’re not telling me?”

“It’s Nick Holland, we don’t have time right now. I’ll tell you everything, and I mean all of it on the plane ride. Just get your agent on the phone and make sure he doesn’t let Caitlin out of his sight.”

“I’ve already called Chris, he hasn’t answered. I’ll call Tomas, Scott, and the police department on the way to the airport.”

“Call everyone you can on that damn island. This is a sick mother fucker we’re dealing with.”

Frantic, Barry made phone call after phone call, cell-phone reception sucked on these islands. He made a promise to upgrade to satellite phones once he returned to his office; if he ever returned to his office. The name Lukas mentioned startled Barry. Bucklin knew. He knew everything. The bastard played his own game. Barry had yet to determine if Lukas was a friend or foe.

* * * *

Chris and Caitlin pulled up to the abandoned building after traveling down the bumpy dirt road. Chris steered the jeep onto a somewhat flat surface of soft grass mixed with sand. He turned off the engine and blurted, “I don’t like this one bit, Caitlin. There’s nothing around here. As I said before we are exposed to anything and anyone.”

Caitlin grabbed her camera and paperwork and jumped out onto the grass. She shouted over her shoulder as she raced ahead. “Chris, don’t worry. This will only take a few minutes. When I give the realtor my final offer, I’ll buy you a celebratory drink at Rita and Paul’s . It’s just down the road a bit.”

Chris ran a hand over his short blond hair in a gesture of exasperation. The last thing he needed was a drink and celebration with Caitlin. Before she could get any further, he grabbed her arm and stepped in front of her, walking ahead. “There’s no way you’re going in there before I check it out. Stay close behind me.”

Chris crept into the shadowy building, his gun in his right hand ready to fire. He motioned for Caitlin to follow and grabbed her wrist with his left hand. Every nerve in his body wired tight to react to the first sign of a threat. He was in combat mode and grateful he could maintain his composure and not succumb to the burst of electrical excitement at the touch of Caitlin’s skin. Satisfied nothing dangerous lurked in the empty space, he gave specific instructions to Caitlin. “Get done what you need to as quickly as possible. I’m going to stand outside that door, if you can call that thing a door. What kind of car does this realtor drive?”

“She drives a silver truck.”

“A realtor drives a truck?” Chris asked.

“You see all of these mountains don’t you? With all of the development going on, how do you think she gets around?” Caitlin walked into the open area, ready to take pictures and measurements. Chris remained outside, his eyes darted in every direction.

Twenty minutes passed before Chris saw the dust and sand churn from a large vehicle barreling down the road. A silver truck pulled off the narrow road and stopped behind Chris’s jeep. A tall woman emerged and ran to Chris, she shouted, “Chris, Chris she needs help!”

Squinting in the glare of the sun, he swiveled his head in the direction of the warehouse, and then back to the screaming stranger, who was no stranger at all. What the hell was going on now?

“Constance?” Chris had met Constance on several occasions when she and Jack visited New York twice each year. Jack was obligated to appear at the semi-annual Board of Directors meeting of BS Investigations and Security Services.

“Yes of course it’s me. Where is Caitlin? Please tell me she’s okay.”

She wasn’t a threat. Was she? Caitlin’s own mother wouldn’t hurt her. Would she? No. Yet something was off. Chris replied in a guarded voice. “Caitlin is fine. How did you get here?”

Constance threw herself at Chris and shouted, “Oh thank God my baby’s safe.” She reached and hugged him with nothing but gratitude and a needle pricked his thick arm.

* * * *

Mabel Thompson came in handier than Mackenzie would have thought. Apparently the old gal had a severe allergy to something. She had an epinephrine syringe conveniently contained within her purse. A simple switch of the liquid in the cylindrical column and Chris Dobbs went down for the count, for a little while at least. Mackenzie didn’t have much of his sleeping potion left, only a drop or two. He couldn’t resist the temptation and splurged with the dosage added to the food yesterday. The concentrated drops would have been ideal. Second best would have to do in this instance. Mackenzie had no choice but to dilute the remainder of the drug with water for an intra-muscular injection. A tall and well-built man like Chris wouldn’t be out for very long. At least when the private investigator woke, he’d be unarmed.

Mackenzie fondled the semi-automatic weapon that he retrieved from Chris’s limp hand. He returned the revolver he dug up to the purse. It was nothing in comparison to this beauty. The turn of events satisfied him. The gun he transported in Ian Yates’s checked suitcase last week, and then buried, would have sufficed. This newly obtained, glinting, powerful piece of metal was better, much better.

* * * *

Barry tried Scott’s phone and finally he answered the damn thing. “Barry, make it quick. I just got back to the hotel. I can’t talk right now, because the shit’s hitting the fan!”