Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5) (30 page)

2013

It had taken the young English teacher two hours to get back to Bajram Curri from the mountains. It wasn’t very late in Albania, but by his calculations it was very early in America; too early to call the man whose number he had been given by the furgon driver. So the young man crawled into his bed fully dressed because there was no heat in his apartment and the steel door made the whole place as cold as a freezer. He would sleep for a few hours and then call the number. But an hour passed, and then two, and he could not sleep because of what he knew.

He crawled out of his bed and saw that it would be a respectable hour in the states. He dialed his phone. Thousands of miles away, the phone that belonged to the man named Archer rang. Before they connected, though, the signal went out and the call was cut off.

The young man tried again and again. Each time the connection was missed, his heart beat faster. This was not good. What he knew was not good at all. Finally, he was talking to a man named Archer. He told him what he had found out from
Teuta Zogaj.

***

Hannah and Billy sat inside the little Volkswagen. Rain drummed on the roof. Outside was gray and cold; inside the car was warm and close. They had never sat this way before, side-by-side, silent, equally frightened, neither wanting to admit it.

“How are you feeling?” Hannah asked.

“I’m okay,” Billy mumbled, but she could see he was pale and trembling. Their flight and the sight of Rosa had shaken him. He didn’t look at her when he asked: “What do we do now?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Hannah said.

“Do you think we should call Josie?”

Hannah shook her head, “Not yet.”

“What about Archer? Maybe we should call him, just to let him know we’re okay.”

Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe in a few days. Maybe in a few days they will have figured out who killed those people and who hurt Rosa. Then we can go back. If they put you in the psyche ward, you’ll never get back to normal.”

“Okay,” Billy said but it wasn’t clear if he agreed with her or if he was just tired. He blinked and looked around. “Where are we?”

“I used to live here.”

Hannah took a deep breath. The big house was still impressive. It was a seemingly simple construct, but closer inspection revealed a marvelous origami box of a home: glass butted stucco, stucco melted into copper, copper ran into tile, and that tile surrounded a pool of water that welcomed visitors with a serenity that masked the sickness of the people inside. Only now there weren’t any people inside. A discrete For Sale sign was stuck into what had once been a bed of extravagantly exotic plants. The sign was weathered, the words faded, as forgotten as what had gone on behind the walls. Hannah reached into the back. She pulled her duffle and Billy’s backpack over the seat.

“Can you handle this?”

She held up the backpack. He nodded and she gave it to him. She reached back and grabbed another bag. She had enough food to last them a few days. If they needed more, she knew where there was a little store where only the locals went. Right now they just needed some rest.

“You ready?”

Billy nodded. For a minute Hannah wasn’t sure if she was. Then she swallowed her fear. There was no one in that place who could hurt her any more.

“Let’s go.”

Hannah had parked deep into the long drive so that the car couldn’t be seen from the highway. Together they dashed around to the front of the house and stopped in front of a gate that was as tall as the ten-foot wall that surrounded the house. It had oxidized to the strangely pleasing blue-green of exposed copper. A relief of angles as sharp as a maze of thorns was etched onto its surface.

“We’ll never get in.”

Billy raised his voice so he could be heard above the rain. Hannah ignored him. She touched the gate. It opened as it always had. Another touch and it revolved. She led Billy through and touched it from behind. The gate closed. It was a brilliant collaboration of art and engineering.

“Come on.”

Together they hurried through a courtyard paved in buff colored tile surrounded by walls of smooth stucco. Cut through the middle of this outdoor room was an endless pool. The water flowed under a glass wall that bared the heart of the house. The glass used to sparkle; now it was muddied, streaked with dirt and dust.

In front of it, in the middle of the pool, stood the bronze statue of a nude woman. She was contorted into a position of perpetual pain - or ecstasy - depending on one’s point of view. Hannah had once asked Josie what she saw when she looked at it. Josie saw pain of the most humiliating and personal sort. So had Hannah.

She tore her eyes away from the statue and touched Billy’s arm as she went by.

“Come on.”

He followed her to the entrance. Hannah had the key to the house, but the realtor had secured it with a lock box.

“Now what?” Billy asked.

“Wait here.”

Hannah dashed through the rain, through the courtyard, and back out the gate. She came back a minute later carrying a baseball bat.

“I use this to hold up the hood on my car when I put oil in.” Hannah held the bat in one hand. Water ran down her face and sluiced off the little hair she had left.

“Let’s go, Hannah. Let’s go somewhere else,” Billy pleaded.

“Let’s not,” Hannah answered.

With that, she walked into the shallow pool and under the gaze of the tortured nude, drew back, and hit the glass wall with the bat. It shattered but didn’t break. Hannah didn’t back away from the shards or flinch at the sound. She hit the glass again and again until a sheet broke away, leaving a jagged gaping hole in the wall. She felt the shards floating through the shallow pool and bouncing off her shoes. It was then, when the glass didn’t cut her, when she had broken into the house that used to be her prison, that Hannah Sheraton became truly strong and free. She put her hand out to Billy as she threw the bat into the pool.

“Come on. I’ll help you.”

Together they walked through the broken window and into Fritz Rayburn’s Malibu house.

***

It was a well-documented fact that when rain fell, Southern Californians lost their ability to drive. When a storm hit, Southern California drivers lost their ability to think. It was raining and that’s why traffic was a snarl from the South Bay all the way to Lincoln Boulevard and beyond.

As Josie drove in fits and starts, she waffled between believing that Hannah and Billy were safe at Fritz’s house or that she was headed in the wrong direction entirely. She didn’t bother voicing either her concern or her hopes to Gjergy Isai. He sat beside her in the car, eyes forward, wanting to get to Billy.

She had promised Mike Montoya to take the old man back to Lumina’s house, but she didn’t say when she would get him there. First she wanted him to help her convince Billy to come back. He promised to talk to the boy about his parents and the country he had been taken from, Josie would talk to Hannah about coming home, and Archer would keep tabs on Mike Montoya and Sam Lumina. If what Montoya believed – that Sam Lumina was responsible for the deaths because of the union troubles – Archer would let Josie know it was safe for everyone to come back. It was a flimsy plan, but a plan nonetheless.

“There.”

Josie pointed to the house in the distance. Gjergy kept his eyes on the structure as they drew closer. When Josie pulled into the drive, he cut his gaze to the Volkswagen and then back to the house.

“They are here,” he said.

“I knew they would be.”

Josie pulled on the emergency brake just as the first roll of thunder sounded.

***

Wendy slipped into the room where Mike Montoya was talking to Sam Lumina. More correctly, Mike was talking and Sam Lumina was acting like he could care less. Wendy gave Mike the information he was waiting for. Mike glanced at it.

“I see a green Toyota is registered to you, Sam,” he said.

“What of it?”

“A green Toyota was seen parked on Rosa Zuni’s street the night of the murders.”

“Like there aren’t a thousand green Toyota’s all over the place?”

“Not many with the specific body damage yours has.” Mike set aside the DMV report. “But what really concerns me, is the gun, Sam. The gun that killed Jac Duka and Greg Oi was registered to Greg Oi. Ballistics confirmed that. And, they also confirmed that your fingerprints were all over it. We just find that a little odd.”

“I’ve seen the gun before,” Sam drawled. “Yeah, I saw it at the plant. Mr. Oi let me hold it. That’s how my fingerprints got there.”

“And could you tell me how this gun got into your home? That is the real curiosity here. Your wife found it in the heater closet in your home. It seems as if someone was trying to hide it.”

“Stupid bitch,” Sam muttered.

“Concerned wife and mother,” Mike answered. Wendy took a step back and leaned against the wall next to the door. It never ceased to amaze her how easily people blamed others when the truth of their crime was staring them right in the face. “Your wife thought Mr. Isai had something to do with the murders, but his fingerprints aren’t on the gun. Only yours are. And your prints aren’t just on the butt. We have a partial on the trigger. I just don’t see how you can explain that away.”

“How do you know his aren’t on that gun?” Sam challenged.

“Because your wife provided us with a glass he used so that we could match them. There was no match. But we had your prints from your previous arrest.” Mike leaned forward. “Yours and Mr. Oi’s Sam. Come on, we know that Jac Duka was playing both sides of the fence, feeding information to Oi about you guys and votes on the upcoming contract. The whole thing has been heated. We won’t press for murder one if you level with us now. Manslaughter? You could get off with-”

Mike stopped talking, interrupted by a knock on the door. He looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a deputy and Archer as Wendy opened the door and stepped into the hall. She came back a minute later, went up to Mike and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Mike cocked his head. He raised an eyebrow.

“When did the call come in?”

“Just now,” she said. “He’s trying to call Josie Bates. He thought you should know. I called the Lumina’s house. The wife says Isai isn’t there and she doesn’t know where he is.”

Mike stood up and turned his back on Sam Lumina.

“Did you corroborate?”

“You’re kidding, right? Archer said the conversation was sketchy. He got the basics.” Wendy looked at Sam. “It makes as much sense as anything else. Ask him.”

Mike pivoted. Sam looked away, bored with the whole thing until Mike asked:

“Mr. Lumina, what do you know about blood feuds?”

Josie Bates had not forgotten anything about Fritz Rayburn’s house: not how impressed she’d been the first time she’d seen it, not the lavish furnishings, not the lengths Linda, Hannah’s mother, would go to protect her claim to it. This time all Josie felt was sad because this was where Hannah thought she would be safe.

The hood of Josie’s parka was raised and she kept her head down as she walked quickly toward the gate. Beyond the house was the stormy sea, behind her Gjergy waited in the Jeep. He would come when she called him in. Josie gave no more than a passing glance at the For Sale sign. She didn’t hesitate when she reached the gate. She touched it, it swung open, she walked through, but she didn’t bother to close it. Hopefully, they would all be walking back through it sooner than later.

She saw the padlock on the front door, the jagged hole in the towering glass wall and the baseball bat lying at the bottom of the shallow pool. Her eyes played over the statue. Raindrops pockmarked the water in the pool. Broken glass sparkled against the sand that had blown into the water and settled on the bottom tile. She stepped into the cold water, waded through it, and went into Fritz Rayburn’s house.

She climbed out of the water into the foyer and listened. She heard nothing and no one would have heard her. The living room was empty and the walls were bare. She started for the staircase, but hadn’t taken more than a step when she saw Hannah emerge from the dining room. Josie opened her mouth to speak, but all she heard was Hannah scream her name. She turned just as Gjergy Isai swung the wet baseball bat at her head.

***

The silence was epic. The ceilings were so high Hannah couldn’t hear the sound of rain on the roof, or the sound of the waves at the beach, or Josie breathing. The afternoon gloom was liquid, seeping into every corner of the empty huge room. Hannah’s shock was palpable and Gjergy’s indifference to her and Josie lying on the floor was chilling.

“Where is Besnik?”

Hannah shook her head. Her eyes darted to Josie who hadn’t moved.

“Do not look at that woman,” Gjergy ordered. “Look at me.”

Hannah did as she was told. Her heart pounded, her body shuddered, and her brave heart felt small.

“There is no reason for you to be fearful,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anyone,” Hannah answered.

Gjergy understood. She was afraid for her friend and afraid for the woman who had spoken for her friend. Love gave her courage. He understood that all too well. It was the same for him.

“Why did you do that? Why did you hurt Josie?” Hannah took one step forward, but when he raised the bat she stopped.

“She would try to stop me and I have come a very long way and waited a very long time to find Besnik,” Gjergy said.

“You won’t find him ever.”

“Do not lie to me,” Gjergy roared. “I can kill you. I can kill her. It makes no difference as long as Besnik dies.”

“Why? He doesn’t even know you,” Hannah screamed back.

From the corner of her eye she saw Josie move and Hannah prayed she could hear what they were saying. If she could, Josie could tell someone what insanity had happened here if Hannah couldn’t.

“It is our law,” Gjergy answered.

“What kind of freakin’ law says you have to kill a kid?”

“The Kunan is our law.” Gjergy moved but did not take his eyes off Hannah for longer than a second. Facing down a girl, he felt no urgency and his curiosity had got the best of him. “This is one persons house?”

“It was,” Hannah answered. “He’s dead.”

“He was a president?” Gjergy asked.

“No. He was a freak. A freaky old man like you.”

Gjergy snorted. He tapped the baseball bat against his leg.

“He is not like me. I am a man who only wants justice. Rosafa knew that and she would not tell me where Besnik was. That was all she would have to do and she refused.” He turned back to Hannah and smiled. “Rosafa was well named. She was brave.” He turned toward Hannah. “Rosafa was like you, I think. You protect him out of love. I hunt him out of respect for the law.”

“Tell me what law you’re talking about,” Hannah demanded. “Tell me what Billy did.”

Instead of answering, Gjergy leaned against the stairwell wall and asked.

“Do you know what it is like to starve?”

“I know what it is to be hungry,” Hannah said.

“That is different. Starving, it makes women old and men useless and children cry. When I was younger than
Besnik, my country suffered under a president who enslaved us. For fifty years there was but one car in our country, and it belonged to the president. He said God did not exist. He took our work. He told us what we could eat and where we could go. The people had nothing left but family and honor.

“That is how we lived. And the president put mines around our country to keep people out, but we knew it was to keep us in. He made our countrymen his soldiers to make sure we did not leave. Yes,” the big man mused, “I was twelve. I was a boy.”

Gjergy seemed to have lost himself in his tale, but Hannah didn’t kid herself. He knew where he was, he knew who she was, he knew what he wanted to do and he didn’t care if it was wrong.

“Billy wasn’t even born when you were twelve,” Hannah ventured.

The old man blinked. The light was growing dimmer with the storm and the passing of the day. This man was a shadow, a silhouette, a deadly presence that Rosa Zuni tried to guard Billy against in the only way she knew how – by keeping Billy away from their house. Escape would have been impossible when Gjergy found them. Rosa was proof of that.

“What did he do to you?” Hannah balled her fist, stepped forward, and demanded an answer. Her efforts were futile. She might as well have been a gnat nipping at the ear of a plow horse.

“I will tell you.” Gjergy spat the words at her. “My brother was taking me across the border. We went at night, and it was Yilli who guarded the border. Yilli’s rifle fired and killed my brother. I saw it. I witnessed his death. With my eyes, I saw him die.”

“Then talk to the Yilli guy.” Hannah moved a bit, trying to position herself in front of the sliding door that led to the wide patio and the steps down to the beach.

“The Kunan says I could kill Yilli to revenge my brother, but the president outlawed the justice, the blood feud. So I waited for the revolution and freedom. When it came, Yilli stayed in his house and I could not enter to take his life. The Kunan says I could kill his son, but Yilli only has a daughter, Teuta, who I was not allowed to kill.”

“Holy shit,” Hannah breathed. “You’re going to kill Billy because his grandfather shot your brother?”

“It is the law,” Gjergy stated.

“It’s screwed.”

With that, Hannah threw herself at the glass door and screamed.

“Billy! Run! Run! Josie! Help! Josie!”

The old man started. With a great roar born of centuries of culture, a half a century of fear and anger, and an instant of surprise when he saw this moment slipping away, Gjergy lunged across the room determined to silence Hannah. As he did, Billy ran down the stairs as best he could, letting out a blood- curdling scream as he dashed for the front door. Hannah’s head twisted and she saw that Billy was going the wrong way. Gjergy turned, too, but his hard shoes skidded on the wood floor.

“It’s locked, Billy! It’s locked!” Hannah screamed and just then the lock on the sliding door gave way. “This way! This way!”

Billy twirled and he dashed toward Hannah but Gergy had almost righted himself and grabbed for Billy. The teenager used his cast like a weapon, deflecting the old man. Gjergy roared, found his footing, and went after Hannah and Billy who had already escaped into the gathering gloom.

***

Mike Montoya drove and Archer rode shotgun. It had taken mere minutes for Archer to relay the basics of the story to Mike, Mike to repeat it to Sam Lumina, and Sam Lumina to give up Gjergy Isai. Bottom line, Sam said, the old man would have killed him if he didn’t help him finish up the blood feud.

Yeah, a blood feud.

That was ancient law and Sam couldn’t say no. Gjergy was supposed to take care of the kid and been out of the country before anyone was the wiser. All Sam had to do was drive him around.

Sam drove him to Oi’s house, but Oi wouldn’t tell where the kid was.

They followed him to Hermosa.

They found Oi dressed like a woman.

Which was totally weird.

They found Jac Duka giving Oi the skinny on who was going to vote which way in the contract talks.

Traitor.

Gjergy found Rosafa. Gjergy wasn’t supposed to hurt her. That was against the Kunan, but she wouldn’t give up the kid.

Gjergy went crazy. They could hear everything downstairs.

It was sickening.

Oi couldn’t take it. The idiot went for his gun, and Sam went for Oi, and it all happened so fast, and Jac just sat there like a lump.

What was I supposed to do? Oi knew the score, but when he heard that girl screaming it was too much for him. He was going to shoot my uncle. I grabbed the gun, like just to get it away from him. He ran. I shot him. God, that was weird. Like I was shooting a woman. That’s when Jac started to get up. I shot him. I just turned and pulled the trigger. I didn’t even think. Self defense. Pure and simple. It was self- defense. That’s what it was. I didn’t know what my uncle did to that chick. It sounded bad, but I didn’t know and I didn’t know the two guys were dead. I just ran to the car with the gun. I saw the kid and the other guy go in. I saw everyone running back out. I hid. I hid in the car with the gun. . .

Mike had heard enough. He left Sam Lumina to Wendy Sterling. The story was one for the books, but they would have plenty of time to sort it out. Right now, though, they didn’t have a lot of time; they had to get to Josie who was more than a half an hour ahead of them and not answering her phone.

***

Josie struggled onto her hands and knees. Her stomach heaved. She opened her mouth to throw up but nothing came out. Her ears rang, her brain was jangled, her eyes unfocused. She put her head against the floor, raising it again in time to see Gjergy Isai run out the door toward the beach.

Calling on every ounce of strength she possessed, Josie got to her feet. She stumbled, she walked, and weaved, and fell. She got up again, and again, and the last time she tripped over the bat. Pain shot up her shoulder, and the back of her head felt like it was caved in.

Picking up the bat, she leveraged herself. Single-mindedly, Josie put one foot in front of the other, gaining speed only to fall back a step when her head began to spin. Sweating, she tore off her hooded jacket and tossed it aside before falling against the open glass door.

She squinted at the figures on the beach. The old man was faster than she had imagined he could be. He was gaining on the teenagers, but they were still ahead of him, headed for the old wooden pier and the dinghy tied to it. Suddenly, Billy collapsed. Hannah ran back for him. Josie could hear the old man bellowing. It didn’t matter what he was saying; she knew what he meant.

Gjergy wanted blood.

***

“Jesus.” Archer cursed in frustration when he saw what was coming.

The rains had soaked the Malibu Mountains loosening the earth. A rock slide had closed Pacific Coast Highway going north.

“I see it. I got it.”

Montoya reached for a light and put it on top of his unmarked unit, stepped on the gas, and turned the wheel until the car was riding on the shoulder – a shoulder that actually didn’t exist.

Archer raised a brow. He didn’t think Montoya had it in him. Montoya raised one right back as if to say he wasn’t surprised to be underestimated.

They flew past a mile and a half of stopped cars, past the rocks, and swerved back onto PCH. It was wide open all the way to Fritz Rayburn’s house.

***

The sky had opened up. Josie ran toward the shore. The waves rolled in, but not with the rage of a week ago. The wind was not gale force, but she still struggled against it. Sunset was covered over with dark clouds. Ahead, Gjergy, Billy and Hannah stumbled across the wet sand.

Billy was up and for a moment he and Hannah were one person. His arm was around her shoulders and they started forward again. But Hannah was slight, and even her heroic spirit was not enough to move them any faster. Then they were apart, Hannah clutching his good arm as they made it to the pier.

Gjergy was moments behind them and Josie seconds behind him, but even as she gained on him, the old man didn’t look back. He got to the old pier and lumbered toward the two kids. Hannah abandoned the rope that tied the skiff, jumped up, and threw herself in front of Billy Zuni.

“Leave us alone. Go away. He didn’t do anything to you.”

Gjergy ignored her. He had eyes only for Billy. Winded, Gjergy’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

“Move the girl away. Move her, Besnik. I have no care for her.”

“I do,” Billy called back.

“And so do I,” Josie cried as she came up behind the old man.

The bat was poised at her shoulder. Josie waited for him to make a move toward Billy. Instead, Gjergy stood as he had in the hospital room: still as a statue, turning only when he decided to turn. This time, though, hidden hands were a worry. This time, when Gjergy faced Josie there was a knife in his hand.