Final Deposit (15 page)

“With reason.”

“True,” he conceded.

“Think about it. A real friend would have promised to visit or call or send flowers, but he said my father should call him. And then there was the I'd-hate-for-anything-to-happen-to-your-father comment. He knows I've figured out what's going on.”

“I'll be the first to agree that there could be something behind what he said, but I'm not sure about the threat.”

She stretched her back, which was already sore from wearing high heels. “I hope you're right. What now?”

“I think it's time to mingle.”

An hour and a half later, they'd met the principal of Texas Liberty and learned everything there was to know about charter schools and the need for disadvantaged kids to receive a better education. They'd also met several of Vincent's employees. One in particular was more than happy to share inside information on the financial status of the company. According to this man, who'd already had too much to drink despite the relatively early hour, Lambert Enterprises was indeed in serious financial trouble.

Having exhausted their investigative powers for the evening, they said their goodbyes and headed out. Lindsey looked up at the twinkling stars, drawing in a deep breath, thankful for a moment of reprieve from the stress of the week. “It's beautiful tonight, isn't it?”

“And the company isn't bad, either.”

She smiled, enjoying how comfortable she was with him. As she turned to thank him for the compliment, something caught her eye.

An orange glow flickered across the street. A man leaned against a dark blue van, smoking a cigarette. The light of the street lamp illuminated the left side of his face. Her heart froze. Long hair, a sharp nose…

It was him.

“Kyle. It's Jamie McDonald. He's watching us.”

Kyle took a step toward the man. “I've had enough of this—”

Lindsey held Kyle back. “He's not worth your getting hurt.”

“Who said I'm going to lose?”

“Kyle…”

He hesitated, then grabbed Lindsey's hand. “You're probably right. He's not worth it. Let's go to my car. Slowly, until he can't see us anymore.”

They walked a few steps, Lindsey's heart skittering in her chest as she forced herself not to run. Then Kyle's pace quickened and they rushed toward the car. She gasped for breath, fear burning her lungs.

I'd hate for anything to happen to your father.
She couldn't get the words out of her head.

What had Mr. Lambert meant? That her father's life was in danger if he didn't pay up? Surely she was reading too much into the situation. But if so, then why was one of Mr. Lambert's employees still following her? Was he planning to go after her father?

Goose bumps ran up her forearms despite the balmy night air.

No. Her father was safe at the hospital. He was safer there than almost anywhere else, probably. Right?

Kyle opened the passenger door, let her in, then hurried around to the other side.

“What if they went after my father?” she asked as he slid into the seat.

Kyle started the engine and they took off down the street. “Doesn't seem likely.”

“They know he has the money.”

She looked in the side-view mirror to see if Jamie had followed them. A pair of headlights glared back at her. But a minute later, the vehicle turned. She kept waiting for the van to show up again, but it didn't. After a few tense minutes, she pulled out her phone, her hands still trembling. She punched in the number for the hospital. After a dozen rings, someone finally answered.

“Yes, this is Lindsey Taylor, and I'm calling to check on my father, George Taylor. I—”

“Miss Taylor?”

“Yes. Is he all right?”

“I was just about to call you.”

There was a pause on the line. Lindsey felt her mouth go dry as a wave of nausea struck.

“I don't know how else to say this, Miss Taylor, but your father, he…he's disappeared.”

“M
y father's disappeared.”

Darkness closed in on her. She flipped her phone shut and pressed her hand against her chest. Her heart raced. Her breathing quickened. If she didn't calm down, she was going to hyperventilate. The nurse said “disappeared.” Not “checked out” or “been released.”

“Lindsey, take a deep breath.” Kyle pulled the car over and let the engine idle. “What happened?”

Her father was gone. And someone wanted his life-insurance money. In her mind, there was only one explanation. “He's kidnapped my father. Vincent Lambert and his long-haired thug.”

His eyes widened. “The hospital said that?”

She hiccuped. “No…just that he was…gone.” She held her breath and tried to stop the hiccups. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. Maybe he'd simply gotten fed up with staying at the hospital and decided to leave. But without calling her? No. Whatever had happened, his leaving hadn't been of his own accord. She was sure of that.

“He couldn't have just disappeared.” She caught his confused expression in the pale light of a street lamp as he spoke. “He didn't check out?”

“No.” Hiccup. “The nurses' station doesn't know where he is. And all his—” hiccup “—things are gone. His wallet. His reading glasses. His toothbrush.”

Wallet…glasses…toothbrush…wait. Maybe that told them something. Jamie McDonald wasn't likely to let her father collect his personal things. Why hadn't he got a cell phone when she'd insisted last fall that he needed one for his safety? Once again, he was too stubborn.

“It sounds like he might have left on his own, Lindsey,” Kyle said.

The hiccups stopped. It was possible. Wasn't it?

Kyle merged back into the traffic and took a right at the stop sign. “We'll check out your father's house to see if he's there. But I think before we talk to the police, we've got to have something more than rumors that Lambert's short on cash and might have had your father kidnapped.”

“The police.” She felt her throat constrict. Not that she expected they could track down and convict Lambert on their own. She had no experience in investigating a criminal case, and while Kyle had some expertise, even he'd stated that there were lines he couldn't legally cross. It was just that having to call the police—again—made her feel so desperate.

“I've already filed a report on the Internet fraud,” he continued. “Though I've told you before that the chances of your father recovering all his money are slim. And if Vincent Lambert is the culprit in this situation, I have a feeling he'll be as good at covering his tracks as Abraham Omah. Although Lambert was careless with Jamie.”

The odds might be against them, but her father's life was at stake in a completely different way now. Losing all his physical possessions no longer seemed so terrible in the face of his disappearance.

She took in a ragged breath and tried to focus. “So how do we go about proving Lambert's involved?”

“We've got to have some evidence to back our theory that he's short on cash and desperate for the money. Along with that, anything that might prove he'd been involved with your father, as well as any evidence of unscrupulous transactions in the past that might show he's ruthless enough to step on the other side of the law.”

“Again, how?”

Kyle took her father's exit off the highway and headed toward his neighborhood. “This is really no different than compiling a due diligence report for a client. It's basically an in-depth background check.”

Her panic subsided slightly. As long as they were doing something, she wouldn't feel quite as helpless. “You think we can find something?”

“That is the sixty-five-thousand-dollar question.”

Kyle parked in front of her father's house. As soon as he stopped the car, she jumped out and ran up the walk, keys in hand. Dark shadows danced along the front of the house but tonight, she didn't care. Anything in the bushes better watch out.

Inside, the house looked normal. The carpet was dry, the back window had been replaced and the furniture was back in order. But a quick look down the hall revealed what she'd feared. There was no sign of her father. Sammy rubbed against her, hungry for attention.

She picked up the spoiled feline and he purred against her cheek. The poor thing had spent almost a week on his own. A week in which she didn't feel as if they'd come any closer to the truth. If anything, their discoveries had raised more unanswerable questions.

She fed Sammy and cleaned out his litter box. Then she leaned against the edge of the bar, arms wrapped around her waist, trying to gather the energy she was going to need for the next few hours. It was already after ten o'clock, and all she felt like doing was curling up in bed and sleeping for the next few days.

Sammy devoured his dinner. At least someone was happy. There was nothing more she could do here tonight. “Are you ready to go?”

“I've been thinking.” Kyle stood in front of her father's desk, hands on his hips.

“About?” she asked.

“You're not going to like this.”

“Like the situation could get any worse.” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn't said that.

“There is another option,” Kyle said, turning toward her.

 

Kyle studied her expression. Did he really want to tell her this? He saw fear behind her eyes as he hesitated. If he was right, her father had a lot more to worry about than the likes of Jamie McDonald, who up to this point seemed more of a nuisance than anything else.

Ten years of working with fraud cases had taught him more than he ever wanted to know about the criminal mind. He knew how an Internet scammer thought, and Abraham Omah's next move could be the final straw, sealing George Taylor's fate.

“Sit down for a second, Lindsey,” he said.

Lindsey sat down on the edge of the couch, hands clasped in her lap, jaw clenched tight. She looked pretty in her black dress, gold heart necklace and heels—she'd been the prettiest girl at Lambert's party, in his opinion. He was done denying the attraction that had simmered between them this past week and he'd been hoping to end the evening with a kiss beneath the Texas stars. Her father going missing hadn't been a part of his plan. But once this was all over, he was going to find a moment to tell her how he felt.

Until then, finding Abraham Omah would have to remain the top priority. Her father's life depended on it.

“What is it, Kyle?” she asked.

“I could be wrong about what I'm about to say.”

She held up her hand. “I want to know what we're up against. Everything that we're up against.”

“Okay.” He'd give it to her straight. “I'm not sure your father's disappearance has anything to do with Lambert.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“First of all, the man has a pretty good alibi—one hundred-plus guests mingling outside his million-dollar home. Although he could have sent Jamie to kidnap your father. But then I'd assume Jamie would be standing guard, not smoking outside the party.”

“I suppose you have a point, but then who's left in the scenario?”

Kyle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I haven't told you everything about how these Internet scams work. In a number of cases, the victims are requested to travel to another country to pick up the cash they've been promised.”

She blinked twice. “Where would they want him to go?”

“It depends on who the scammers are, where they are working from and who they've paid off. In certain cases, you'll even find that the scam artist has bribed government officials and hired actors to make the setup appear legitimate.”

She shook her head. “My father would never fly halfway around the world for something like this.”

“Just like he'd never sell all your mother's porcelain figures, or cash in his life insurance, or—”

“That's different.”

“How is it different? We know your father trusts Omah and believes that he's going to get the money. He's invested his entire life savings in this deal—far too much to turn around and simply throw away his chance at getting the money this late in the game.”

“That's just it. My father doesn't have any money left, and his credit cards are maxed out. Why would he walk out of the hospital and jump on a plane?”

“Six million dollars.”

She combed her fingers through her hair. “Say he did receive an e-mail from Omah asking him to pick up the cash. He still has to pay for the ticket.”

“Then there has to be another source. Can you think of anything?”

“I don't think he's been home.” She glanced around the room. “He would have fed Sammy.”

“Is there another friend he might have borrowed from? Or a credit card he could have used? He could have signed up for one that came in the mail. The advances are usually fairly high. Maybe one that wasn't listed in his paperwork—”

“Wait a minute.”

She picked up her purse, dumping its contents on the couch. She opened her wallet and started flipping through her cards.

“Kyle…” Her voice held a note of panic.

“What is it, Lindsey?”

“My Visa card. It's gone.” She fumbled through the rest of the wallet. “I can't believe he would take it. My purse was sitting beside his bed…I went into the restroom…”

“Okay, this is good, actually. Very good.” He sat beside her on the couch and put his arm around her. “Credit cards leave paper trails. Now we can track him, which means we have a better chance of finding him. I'll be right back,” he said.

Within five minutes, he'd grabbed his laptop from the car and set it on the bar. He slid onto a chair in front of the screen as it buzzed to life and motioned for Lindsey to join him. He tapped his fingers against the bar—why did it take so long when every minute counted? The desktop finally appeared, and he launched the Internet browser. If her father did plan to leave the country, they needed to catch him before his flight left.

If it wasn't already too late. He'd heard horror stories of families contacted to pay ransom. The scammers' intent was to play off the vulnerability and embarrassment of the victim. Many of these victims had been murdered. Others were reported as missing.

But he wasn't going to let that happen to Lindsey's father. The assignment had become personal—very personal. Losing George Taylor would be like losing Michael all over again.

He located the credit card Web site and let her type in her password. A few more clicks and they were there.

“Here it is. There was a ticket purchased today to London.” He scrolled down. “And a hotel reservation for the next three nights.”

Lindsey pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “He actually walked out of that hospital, went to an Internet café then got on a plane? I…I can't believe he did this.”

“Lindsey.”

“I'm okay.” Her breathing grew ragged. “What time does the plane leave?”

Kyle opened another window and started searching for flight times. He glanced at his watch. “The plane left at seven o'clock.”

They'd missed it.

 

Lindsey started pacing. He'd been right—the situation could get worse. Much worse. She naively believed that her father was safe while in the hospital. She couldn't have been more wrong.

“We're going to find him, Lindsey. I've got contacts in London that will work on this for me. I even have some connections with a couple of ex-Secret Service who owe me a favor. I'll call them and get things going from that side. My tech guys have been tracing Omah's Internet protocol address from your father's computer. They've already discovered links to a 419 ring we've been trying to take down for the past nine months. That puts us ahead in the game.”

“I want to know what happens now that he's there.”

“Okay.” Kyle propped his elbows against his knees, trying to figure out how to tell her. “More than likely he'll be met by Omah himself at the airport. By now, of course, he has your father's confidence and your dad will be glad to meet him. They'll have dinner or drinks at the hotel bar. But then your father will want to see the money.”

Lindsey sat down across from him. “But there isn't any money.”

“Ah, but there is. Omah will escort him somewhere. Perhaps to a room in the hotel, or more than likely, to an undisclosed location outside town. A small house or apartment. It will have a windowless room with armed guards.”

“Guards?”

“Yes. And a suitcase filled with stacks of hundred-dollar bills.” Kyle paused for a moment. “But there's a catch. The money will be covered in black, chalky powder.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“They'll tell your father not to worry, that it isn't uncommon for the cash to be coated to keep it from being stolen or spent.”