Phantom Instinct (9780698157132) (21 page)

His eyes scanned her. Maybe he seemed to think:
No surprise.

“The robbery was my ticket out,” she said. “But I'd been trying to find a way out for a long time. I knew that things were heading down the drain to the sewer, and that I had to find a way to stop what was happening to me. And I was angry and desperate and seventeen. So I talked to Oscar. He taught me some of the things he was doing for the Maddox family.”

“He initiated you into his hackerish ways?”

She glanced at the MINI. Oscar was fiddling with the stereo.

“He was literally a kid with toys. And he showed me how he'd set up Maddox's computer security. It was drumskin tight. But Rowdy never even praised his work. And that's what Oscar wanted—somebody who would let him be a kid under the Christmas tree, even if it was in a half-built crime mansion in the scrub desert outside China Lake.”

“And you soaked it all in.”

She nodded. “I listened. And I thought about it. And later, after Oscar explained something to me—”

“Or you asked him questions . . .”

“Of course. Afterward, I wrote everything down, in a little Moleskin notebook I hid behind the molding along the floorboard in the closet. I cut a hole in the sheetrock and put the baseboard back over it,” she said.

“You knew how to get into Roland Maddox's computer system?” Aiden said.

“For months, I was too scared to do it. I knew that if I ever did, I had to get out or I'd get dead.”

He finished filling the tank and replaced the nozzle on the pump.

“That's why Travis is after me. Because that final day, I didn't just set them up and wreck their armed robbery. Before I got behind the wheel, I got into Roland Maddox's computer system and screwed with it.”

“What did you do?” Aiden said.

“I ruined him.”

She said it and her head rang and her breath felt light in her chest. Travis knew, and Zero and her mother—but she had never broken her silence until now.

“I destroyed his records, some of which were encrypted via one-time pads.”

“Whoa.”

“He lost millions and couldn't pay his debts to some very bad people.” She looked at the concrete and back at Aiden. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. “He killed himself.”

Aiden didn't move, not toward her, not away. He looked like stone.

“It happened while I was in juvenile detention. My lawyer mentioned it almost in passing. He thought I fainted because I loved Rowdy. Not because I was terrified and relieved.”

“Jesus.”

“So you see,” she said. “I didn't just cost Travis a big score, or his freedom. I cost him his father.”

A man Travis idolized. A man whose assets were either blown away in random bits or seized by the IRS. Travis was left with nothing. When he got out of prison, even the house was only a sun-wrecked shell, infiltrated by sand and scorpions and claw-rooted desert weeds.

“That's why Travis is determined to punish me,” Harper said. “Now you see. And nothing will stop him.”

She stood, hands at her sides, hearing her own heart and the blur of traffic from the mindless freeway.

Eventually, slowly, Aiden nodded. “Then we'd better get Piper back before he can hurt either one of you.”

The sun seemed to brighten. Despite everything she'd done in her life, he was going forward with her. She was getting one more chance.

“Let's go,” she said.

O
utside North Hills High School, Harper swung the MINI off Wilshire Boulevard into a parking lot. Aiden was right behind her. It was nearly empty, six forty-five
P
.
M
. now, the students gone, the teachers, too, except for the principal and other administrators. A black-and-white LAPD squad car was parked in the center of the lot. On the sidewalk, Erika Sorenstam was pacing back and forth, phone to her ear.

When Harper and Aiden pulled in, Sorenstam hung up. Her hair was a near-white sheet in the dusk. She walked toward them.

Harper said to Oscar, “Let me do the talking.”

They climbed out, as did Aiden. Sorenstam looked icy. Harper's spirits sank.

Clearly, nobody had seen a sign of Piper. Two LAPD detectives stood by the squad car, coffee cups in hand. A uniformed officer was combing the scene, walking with measured steps, holding a flashlight. Damn, they actually did that.

Harper said, “Any news?”

Sorenstam set her hands on her hips. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Anything. Tell me what you need to know.”

Aiden approached. Sorenstam gave him a look, brief, and then a longer one. Then she nodded at Oscar.

“Who's this?”

He lifted his chin in greeting. “Oscar Sierra.” He tossed his head to clear away his hair from his eyes. “Ma'am.”

Harper thought he might just shake so hard his shoelaces would untie.

“Can I see some ID?” Sorenstam said.

He dug his wallet from a sagging jeans pocket and slid out his driver's license. Sorenstam compared the photo to his sorrowful and anxious face. She turned the license to let the sunset catch its edges, checking whether it was legitimate.

“One moment.” She took it to her car, leaned in for the radio, and read off the number.

Oscar wiped his nose. “I am so screwed.”

“Just hold on,” Harper said.

Sorenstam came back and returned the license. “Mr. Sierra, you know that you were reported missing? You've been with Ms. Flynn and haven't reported your whereabouts to the China Lake police.”

“Hey. I reported them to her.” He jabbed a thumb at Harper. “She reported it to you. I presume you reported it to—”

Sorenstam waved him off. “I'll get to you in a minute. Don't go anywhere.”

“Doesn't seem likely, not with all these cops around,” he said.

Harper tried not to shoot him a glance. She knew he would regard escaping from this law enforcement rodeo as a coup.

Aiden said, “Erika, is there any news?”

“Not the kind you're hoping for.”

Harper's pulse rocketed. “Oh, God.” The horizon tilted sideways against the sunset.

Sorenstam frowned. “Cool down. That's not what I mean.”

She felt Aiden's hand on her elbow and the dizziness abated. “You haven't found her?”

“No. But that's not the issue.”

“What, then?”

“We have no evidence that Piper Westerman has been abducted.”

“You haven't heard from the kidnappers?” Harper said.

Sorenstam crossed her arms. “I mean we have evidence that Piper is fine.”

Harper and Aiden reacted simultaneously. “What?”

Sorenstam glanced over her shoulder at the LAPD detectives finishing their coffee. One caught her eye and ambled in their direction. A black guy, late fifties, breathing noticeably under his weight.

Harper said, “She got away? They released her?”

Sorenstam said, “She hasn't been abducted.”

“You keep saying that. What do you mean?”

“Piper has contacted her parents in the last hour.”

“Oh, my God.” She put her fingers to her temples. “Thank God. She's alive. What did she say?”

“She texted them that she was going to a basketball game with friends. School game, down in Palos Verdes. Said she'd be home around ten
P.M
.”

“Text,” Harper said. “That's all? Did you—did the LAPD—inform the Westermans about what I saw?”

“See, that's just it. ‘What you saw.' You're the only one who claims you saw her being abducted.”

Oscar said, “I saw, too.”

Sorenstam looked at him with acid disdain.

“Nobody in the parking lot?” Harper said.

Sorenstam shook her head. “And on a sketchy video link. Not in person. From a hundred miles away.”

“I told you. They wanted me to see it. They wanted me to—”

Sorenstam raised a hand. “Are you listening? Piper sent a text to her parents
after
the time you allege she was abducted.”

Allege.

Harper said, “But Zero grabbed her and everything she was carrying. He got her purse, he definitely got her phone. He could have sent the text.”

“Her parents replied to the text. They got a couple of back-and-forths.”

Harper felt the evening begin to disintegrate. “The Westermans don't think she's been taken.”

“They talked to her,” Sorenstam said.

Harper shook her head. “When? What did she say?”

“Half an hour ago. She sounded fine.”

This was wrong. Twenty kinds of wrong. “No. It's a trick. I saw it.”

“I think not,” Sorenstam said. “Her parents aren't the only ones who spoke to her. That detective over there? He got her number from her folks and called, too.”

She felt like she was slipping on a crumbling hillside. “No.” She looked at the uniform inspecting the parking lot. “What is he searching for?”

And she wondered: evidence that she herself was in on a setup?

Sorenstam said, “Her car isn't here.”

“So?”

“You said she was thrown in the back of a vehicle and driven away at high speed. If so—if she was abducted on the way to get in her car to drive to the basketball game after school—why is her car gone from the parking lot?”

“Because the kidnappers got her car keys, same as they got her phone. Oh, my God, don't you believe me?”

Aiden said, “Harper.” He reached for her arm and she pulled away.

The LAPD detective arrived. “This Flynn?”

Sorenstam said, “She's the one who set this off.”

He glared at her, up and down, gave her a good paint-stripping. “Mind telling us why you've thrown two law enforcement agencies into high gear and set up a couple of parents to face their worst nightmare?”

“I didn't set anything up,” she said. “I phoned in a report of what I saw on video. I'm telling you the truth.”

He hitched his belt. Sorenstam said, “Give us a minute.”

“One. Otherwise, I'm of a mind to take Ms. Flynn to the station for questioning.” He glanced at Oscar and Aiden. “And her entourage.”

Oscar said, “Not me, man. I'm just along for the ride.”

Harper wanted to bite him. The detective strolled back to his colleagues.

Harper said, “I don't know what's going on, but it's a game.”

“Sounds about right,” Sorenstam said.

“No. Not me.” She felt her last hopes slipping away. Aiden was looking at her with reserve. And had he stepped closer to Sorenstam, away from her?

“It's Zero and Travis Maddox,” Harper said. “They've set this up so the police won't believe that Piper has been abducted. I know it. They took her, they made sure I saw it via video that couldn't be recorded. They got her keys and drove her RAV4 away before the LAPD arrived. And now they're texting her parents and forcing her to talk to them and pretend nothing's wrong.”

“Mighty unlikely.”

“You don't know these guys.”

“But you do. Oh so very well. You worked hand in glove with them for years,” Sorenstam said.

“I'm not working with them now.”

“Do you know how improbable that sounds?”

Cheeks burning, Harper turned away. She pulled out her phone.

Sorenstam said, “Who are you calling?”

She scrolled through her contacts and found the Westermans' number. Her thumb hovered over it. “What did you say to Piper's parents? What excuse did the detectives give for contacting them?”

“False alarm. School prank. One that wasn't funny. The principal agreed to go along,” Sorenstam said.

“And they told you they'd spoken to Piper. That's exactly what they said.”

“Yes.”

Harper hesitated. If the Westermans thought Piper was okay, how could she ruin that? They had already faced their worst nightmare. How could she force them to suffer again?

No
. This was about Piper. “I was with their son when he died. I'm the one who had to tell them. And I am
not
going to be the one who tells them something horrible has happened to their only surviving child.”

She pressed the number. As it rang, she shut her eyes.

Richard Westerman picked up. “Harper. What is going on?”

She started to step away, then realized that everybody needed to watch and hear everything.

“I'm concerned about Piper,” she said. “You say you've heard from her?”

Sorenstam threw up her hands and began turning in circles.

“Yes, we have,” Westerman said, “The police called us. I take it that's thanks to you.”

Harper tried to phrase her words not to sound alarmist. But she had to know. “Mr. Westerman, what exactly did Piper say?”

“She's at a basketball game. North Hills is playing PV. She's fine.”

“I just—”

“Listen to me. I know Piper is struggling. We all are. You have no idea. And we've appreciated you providing a sympathetic ear for her. But this has gone too far.”

“I'm just concerned about her. Very concerned.”

“You think she's run away? She hasn't. She called to let us know where she was going, and then after the police called, her mother phoned her back to verify she was okay.”

“What did she say?”

His tone sharpened. “She chatted and laughed with my wife. She was with friends. She didn't sound as though she was being held against her will.”

Harper inhaled.

“That's what you're hinting at. Don't deny it,” he said. “I don't know why you'd suggest such a vile thing, but it's extremely disturbing. Piper actually said, ‘I'm fine. No ransom note. No guys with saws and meat hooks. Jesus, what's going on?'”

“Mr. Westerman, please, just—”

“No. I'm done. You're ignoring my message here. My wife and I have spoken to our daughter twice in the last two hours. She sounded both completely at ease and completely perplexed about why we're so concerned.”

“Did she mention—”

“Mention you? Yes. She said you're being very intrusive and weird.”

Harper's face heated. Her palms heated.

“It's not funny, Harper. You may think you're being a Good Samaritan, but you're frightening our family.”

“No. Mr. Westerman. Richard. Please . . .”

“I'm going to ask you not to call here anymore. Don't call Piper, either. Don't text her, don't e-mail, and do not under any circumstances attempt to see her.”

“This isn't about me. I need proof that Piper's okay.”

“You are to leave our family alone. Do you understand? From this moment, we want no contact with you. If you attempt to speak to any member of the family, but particularly to Piper, I'll be forced to take legal action against you.”

She stood in the darkened parking lot, with everybody staring at her, and felt herself shrinking.

“Do you understand?” Westerman said.

“I hear you.”

He hung up.

Sorenstam said, “Slam dunk, huh?”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Had she been wrong? Had Travis played her so completely that she had fallen for a ruse? Maybe he had hired a teenager to dress like Piper. The video had been poor resolution. Maybe this was all meant to get her crawling down a hole in which she'd become trapped.

She looked up, humiliated. “If I'm wrong . . . about what's going on . . .”

She shook herself. Raising her phone again, she scrolled until she found Piper's number. She called.

It rang. She closed her eyes and hoped.

A voice picked up. “Harper?”

Her pulse pounded in her temples. “Piper.”

“You shouldn't be calling me.”

She felt as though she were being watched, and not just by the cops. She turned slowly in a circle, eyeing the parking lot, the street filled with evening traffic, office buildings on the far side, and a multistory parking garage. That had to be where Travis had been standing when he shot the video.

She put the phone on speaker. “Piper, are you okay? Where are you?”

“I can't talk right now. I'll call you back.”

Harper heard a heated thread of anxiety in the girl's voice.

“Just tell me what's going on,” Harper said.

“You know.”

Aiden drew near. Sorenstam leaned in, her expression overtly skeptical. She opened her mouth as if to say something; Harper shook her head sharply.