Target (36 page)

The other man fired up the gas saw and held the blade up to the sun. Shards of light shot from the clean steel with its rotating teeth.

Ed made meaningless sounds. No words would come out. Pushing with his feet, he tried to scoot the chair backward. It started to tip. With the saw vibrating in his right hand, the man pulled Ed's hair with the other and held him steady.

A grinding bounce against the inside of Ed's thigh started him screaming. Screaming and watching blood pump through the leg of his pants.

“Please,” he yelled, and screamed again. “I told you what you asked.”

“You told me you think I'm a fool. Gnomes, then a flamingo? You don't know where the thing is, do you?”

Held aloft, cocked with an elbow on the hip like a shotgun, the blade shone in the light some more, this time streaked with blood.

Ed saw black filling in the edges of his eyes.

The man was there, his eyes narrowed inside the slits in the stocking. Slowly, he began to lower the saw again.

Ed took in a great breath and threw himself, chair and all, at the arm with the saw.

The saw slipped, jerked from the man's fingers, and the rotating blade snatched at his free wrist.

Blood spurted. It felt like it washed over Ed's eyeballs.

He heard the other one bellow.

That was all.

T
wo boys stood beside the track. Matt slowed down to take a good look at them. Wild-eyed with sweat running down the sides of their dusty black faces, they were maybe ten apiece and scared out of their jeans.

“This is it,” he said to Simon Vasseur, a transplant from Lake Charles to the Pointe Judah force. “Let me take it.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Vasseur had two years' experience and Matt figured the guy would turn into a real asset. He knew the people and had a nice way with them. And he could be one cold son of a bitch when he needed to be.

Matt got out of the car. “Hey, boys. You two call into the station?”

“Yes, sir, Chief Boudreaux,” one of the boys said. They had both smiled at the sight of Matt, who knew most people around. The smiles had gone now.

Matt stood with his thumbs hooked into his belt. “You would be Marvin Jasper's boy, Ted,” he said to the slightly taller one who wore a red T-shirt that said, Make My Day. Try It, on the front. “And you're Soccer Brown,” he said to the other. He'd never asked him where he got his first name but the kid didn't look too athletic.

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Gettin'late,” Matt said. “You want a ride back to town?”

The light was still full but it wouldn't be for much longer and the boys had around an hour's walk out to the main highway again.

“We found somethin',” Soccer said. “That's why we called.” He pulled a cell phone out of a small backpack on the ground near his feet to prove his point.

Matt bent to get closer to the kids and raised his brows. They didn't look so good. “What's up?”

“Back there,” Ted Jasper said. “In the old penitentiary.”

“It was just a detention center,” Matt said gently. He looked at the place, a hundred or so yards ahead and desolate looking. “What did you see?”

“Blood,” Soccer said promptly.

“Blood,” Matt repeated. “You want to take me there?”

“No” he got in another chorus.

“Who do you think did the bleeding? Did you see 'em?”

“Nope, just the blood.” Ted kicked at the ground and dust rose in a nose-twitching cloud from flattened, dry white grass. “It come through the roof, we think.”

Matt stared off in the direction of the old building again. “You two playin' around in there?”

Both heads hung.

“You know the kind of stuff went on in there. I reckon a lot of folks did some bleeding from time to time. They fought, like happens when there's tempers and mean minds around. Don't you worry. Just stay away in future, hmm?”

“We saw blood,” Ted said, squinting up at Matt, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “A lot of it.”

“Old blood?” Matt asked. He'd have to take a look, but this pair didn't need to lose sleep having nightmares about stuff they imagined.

“New blood,” Soccer said. He was a slightly built, handsome boy with greenish eyes and a straight nose. “You gotta see.”

Vasseur had been listening through the open window on the cruiser. Matt turned and called, “Let's take a run to the old facility here with the boys.” Vasseur nodded and unlocked the back doors.

With Matt back behind the wheel they drove past the mostly torn-off gates of the place and parked close to the building.

A call came in and Carly at the station said, “Chief, just heard from Nick Board. He and Aurelie got back from San Francisco and he says he knows you'll want to talk to them.”

Matt slammed on the brakes. “You bet your—” Furious, as he had been about Nick and Aurelie since they left town without a word, he collected himself. “Are they there now?”

“They're at Place Lafource. Nick says do you want him to meet you at the station, or—”

“Tell him to stay put. I've got something to do first, then I'll go over there.”

“Yes, Chief.” Carly sounded unusually formal and Matt figured he wasn't doing a good job of hiding his feelings.

The call ended and he said, “The Boards think they can do what they like. If the San Francisco police hadn't called for information, I still wouldn't know where they'd've been.” He was off base talking to Vasseur like that, but he doubted the man would repeat a word. He was too ambitious.

On top of having Ed Webb missing for days, now they were searching for Joan Reeves, as well. And he wanted the photographer, Vic Gross, extradited back to Louisiana where he could charge him for the murder of Baily Morris. Nothing was going his way. Yes, he would be going to Lafource the moment he was through here.

“Where to now, boys?” he said, as evenly as he could manage.

“Over there,” young Ted said. “In the tower.”

Matt and Simon gave one another a long-suffering glance. “The tower, it is,” Matt said. “Let's walk over.”

Simon Vasseur went with them but the closer they got to the watchtower, the slower the boys walked.

“You stay here,” Matt said when they were about at a standstill. “Where's the blood?”

“On the floor,” Soccer said. “And way up overhead. You can see it up there.”

“Under the floor of the lookout platform?” Matt asked.

“I guess,” Soccer said. “We didn't do it.”

Matt almost laughed. “Just you wait here with Officer Vasseur.” He decided the kids had scared themselves silly and didn't want to leave them alone.

He jogged the rest of the way to the base of the tower, where a door stood open, and went inside. He flipped a switch on the wall and was surprised when light flooded the place.

Light wasn't the only thing causing a flood in there.

On the floor, a little to one side of metal steps going straight up to the lookout area, dark red blood shone in a slick pool. Congealed blood that would gum up like jelly if you touched it.

Matt rubbed a hand over his face. One thing was for sure, the blood wasn't so old. He looked up and saw a stain on the wooden ceiling way above his head. He stepped back, half expecting drips to hit him.

He stepped back outside. “Simon. Why don't you lock the boys in the back—just for safety's sake—and give me a hand here.” He gave the kids a reassuring grin but his stomach tightened, not because of the blood but because he didn't know what he'd face at the top of the stairs.

Simon did as he was asked at a trot and joined Matt. He narrowed his eyes at his chief. “There's blood, right? And it isn't old?”

“You've got it,” Matt said quietly. “We're going to have to go up a flight of stairs in there to a trapdoor at the top. Looks like it pushes up, which is somethin'. Probably locks from above. We don't know if there's someone waitin'for us to put our heads through that floor. I bet the guards used to like the idea of that advantage, just in case some yahoo sneaked up.”

“Do we call in?” Simon asked.

“You bet we do. Buck's off but ask for backup out here. I'll go first, you cover me.” Not that backup would help if he got his head blown off.

Simon began speaking quietly into his radio. When he finished, he followed Matt into the tower. The expression on Simon's face didn't change when he saw the blood. He just raised his chin to look up.

Softly, Matt put a foot on the stairs. Too bad about the metal—the danger of making too much noise increased with that. But at least the flight was still in good shape.

With the top of his head several inches below the level of the trapdoor, Matt stopped and listened. He glanced down at Simon, whose face remained impassive. The man held his gun.

Not a sound came from the watchtower platform.

Spreading the fingers of his left hand, Matt braced the tips against the panel and pushed, held the muscles in his hand and wrist rigid and hoped the thing wouldn't rattle. It didn't budge.

He stopped and pressed his lips together. Breath through the mouth could be too loud sometimes. The trapdoor had probably rusted in since it hadn't been used in years.

Applying more pressure, he pushed again, and the trap raised a little at one side. Again he pressed, but gently, and the gap between the opening in the ceiling and the edge of the trapdoor continued to widen. There was no handle on the lower side, which made sense, and Matt was certain it locked tight from above. In case of trouble when the place was a prison, the guards couldn't be easily stormed.

Damn, he needed absolute concentration.

Inch by inch he lifted until he had to take another step to continue.

No sound.

He'd left his hat below. If he wanted to, he could see over the rim now.

No sound.

Matt stretched up until his eyes were above the level of the platform.

Straight ahead, taped into a chair that lay on its side he saw a man, his neck and the underside of his jaw arched, so his face wasn't visible.

The man and his chair rested in a lake of blood.

Behind him, sitting propped in a corner with his left arm held up on a crate, was another man, this one with a stocking over his head and eyes that seemed to glint from deep holes. “Couldn't open the goddamn trap,” he whispered.

The raised arm bore a makeshift tourniquet. It had no hand.

“H
ow much farther?” Aurelie asked. “We're almost there, aren't we?”

Nick gave her a quick glance. “Just a few miles.”

At least it was a dry night, so driving too fast for almost any conditions was a small measure safer.

“Matt seemed different,” Aurelie said, looking at the beginning straggle of the Lafayette outskirts. “I didn't expect him to call back to us so fast after he came to talk to Sabine.”

A weary Matt Boudreaux had come to Place Lafource and closeted himself with Sabine and Delia. Then he'd left again, after Mitch Halpern had come to help Sabine, saying Nick and Aurelie would have to wait for him to talk to them.

“We're going to get through this, y'know,” Nick said. “Every one of us will, even Sabine. Damn, I hate that this happened to her.”

Aurelie let her eyes wander up to where the moon touched the purple-black sky behind the pitch crowns of trees. “She's one of the best people I can think of. Ed wanted to make her life better. You could see how much he loved her.”

“I hope Matt's going to come out with more details,” Nick said.

“Yes,” Aurelie said. “He could have said why he wants us in Lafayette—at the hospital.”

Nick let the car slow suddenly.

“What?” Aurelie said.

“Nothing, sorry.” He continued at a steady rate again.

“What, Nick? Don't do that to me.”

“It was silly. I wondered if he wanted one of us to identify Ed, but that wouldn't make sense.”

“No, it wouldn't,” she said promptly. “He doesn't need us for that.”

“We're about to find out what's up,” he said. “I've run through everything I can think of. I don't know of anyone missing or sick.”

Police presence at the hospital was impossible to ignore. Cars outside, officers inside. Carly Gibson stood in the all but deserted reception area and came toward them.

“I've been waiting for you,” she said. “Matt said to take you along but I'm to call him.” This she did promptly and when they stepped off an elevator, Matt met them.

He nodded to Carly, who left at once, her blond braid flipping from side to side.

“We're looking for Joan Reeves,” Matt said. “Any ideas where she might go?”

This was the reason for bringing them here? Nick shook his head. “You must have talked to Finn—”

“I did. She went out a window at their place about an hour ago as far as he and Emma can figure. We'll get her.”

Matt put his hands behind his back. He looked hard at Nick, who felt Aurelie shift at his side.

“You two going to get married?”

Nick opened his mouth but didn't quite have the right comeback.

“You didn't bring us here to ask us that,” Aurelie said. She pinched the back of Nick's arm.

He didn't know if he was supposed to back her up but he said, “When we're ready to talk about that, we will.”

“Just thought I'd try to catch you off guard so you'd say yes before you had a chance to think.”

Nick smiled but everything about this moment and this place was ominous. “We didn't much like leaving Place Lafource. We're needed there.”

“I know you are, but this is unfinished business. I owe it to you to bring you up to speed, and to apologize. Sorry I've been a jackass.”

Nick fixed on the shiny top of the reception desk, “Well—”

“No need to say any more,” Matt said. “I've done it now.”

“Right,” Nick said. “Is that it? You needed Aurelie here for that?”

“It's just a start. And I'm the one who let some of the snakes out in the first place.”

Aurelie put her hand into Nick's and he squeezed her fingers. “I find it's easier to get things said fast.”

“I shouldn't have decided you were the enemy,” Matt said.

“Why would you do that?” Aurelie said. “Nick's been your best friend for years.”

“I listened to the wrong people and got some convincing stuff pointed out to me. I didn't think you were a criminal, not deep down, but…aw, hell.” The strain in his face ate at Nick. “Come on.”

The corridors were quiet, and apart from the slight noise from Matt's rubber-soled shoes, nothing interrupted the silence. The hospital was battening down for the night.

After making another turn, two more officers came into view, one on either side of a door. The lights were brighter in the area. A nursing station, monitors blipping on three sides, was opposite a room with half-glass walls where the police officers stood.

Aurelie hung back.

“It's okay,” Matt said. “Let's just get this over with. He had a bad history.”

“Ed?” Nick said.

“No,” Matt said. “I should have done more homework.”

They reached the room and looked through the windows.

On a bed, hooked up to multiple leads, lay Buck Dupiere, his sleeping, or unconscious, face the same color as the sheets.

“Oh, God,” Nick said. “What happened to his hand?”

“It was too late to reattach it.”

 

They gathered in a private waiting room where Sampson appeared with mugs of steaming coffee and plates of sandwiches. Just looking at the food turned Aurelie's stomach.

“Why did you hire him?” Nick asked Matt.

“He came to me first, months ago, and let me know he wanted out of the NOPD. Word was already going around that Billy Meche might be retiring. Dupiere doesn't have a record of anything but bad relations with fellow officers and a marriage that broke up because…I think he was pretty much absent and when he wasn't, he could get mean. Twin daughters. His ex-wife's been told and she actually seems upset for him.”

“Has he said anything?” Nick asked.

“Some. He comes and goes. He's lucky he didn't manage to get away from where it happened. He used a tourniquet but he might not have made it back alive. Eventually he'll probably wish he hadn't made it anyway.”

Matt filled them in on the details of the scene in the watchtower and Aurelie shuddered. “You mean someone suddenly turns into a monster like that? There's got to be more.”

“Yeah,” Matt said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “We're waiting for a report from the army. He didn't get an honorable discharge. That may turn something up. Not that it matters anymore. He's already said Ed had it coming.” Matt hung his head. “Ed was doing great. He just had that one opportunity to get into Delia's safe and he couldn't let it pass. Vic saw him take the ruby and worked out his own plan for getting it back, but Buck saw Ed, too—later. Vic did get his hands on the letter, which Ed didn't bother to take. Ed stuffed the package with Delia's sand and Vic replaced your letter with a bill from the drawer, Nick. Later, Vic gave the letter to Joan for safekeeping and forgot to get it back before he skipped. The police in California passed along the details on Vic. He's been full of useful chatter. A lot of what he's said only backs up what you told us, Nick, but it's good to have.

“We think Ed tried to put the stone back and that's when Buck saw him. We'll probably never know for sure now unless Buck tells us, and as he gets his feet under him, he'll stop talking. It makes most sense that Buck took Ed down at Place Lafource that day, and roughed him up, copying what Vic had done to Aurelie to make it look like the same perp. When he didn't find anything on him, he left him in the pool. Ed must have changed his mind about returning the stone and hidden it somewhere instead, then collected it again later.

“Buck may have given up on it then, but he got the letter to Nick—he took it from Joan's bag—and Ed's one slip to Mitch Halpern about something valuable started Buck on the trail again. He surely had the right cover to be watching Ed's moves.”

“Vic got the so-called ruby, Matt,” Nick said.

“I know that. But Buck didn't. He thought Ed still had it. Vic Gross is saying anything he thinks will buy him some lesser charges. He came on Ed beside the road and got him to go to Buzzards. Gave him some phony bearer bond for the lump of glass. Buck must have been waiting for Ed when he came out of the tavern. When we found him Buck had on a beard and mask.”

“He must have gone mad when he found out Ed didn't have the stone, so he killed him,” Aurelie said.

Nick said in a low voice, “Buck would have killed him anyway. He couldn't afford to have him alive. The same reason Colin had for wanting to get rid of us.” He sat down and took a mug of coffee. “You've got the letter, Matt?”

“As soon as we can, you'll have it,” Matt said. “For now it's evidence.”

This was what helpless felt like, Aurelie decided. Disaster in every direction, not that anything mattered as much to her as how Nick would cope.

Nick smiled at her, kept on smiling at her, though the set of his jaw was hard. He looked steadily at her and she felt their connection.

“Chief,” Sampson opened the door, “a word?”

Matt went into the corridor and they listened to the rumble of conversation, but not for long. Matt returned, with Joan. Her face remained a mess but she held her head high and met Nick's then Aurelie's eyes.

“Joan's showed at the hospital,” Matt said. “Reckons she's giving herself up. But she's got something she wants to share in front of Nick and Aurelie before we take her in.”

Nick stood up.

“They said I could play a video in here,” she said. “I owe it to you two to let you see it.”

“Who said you could play a video?” Matt said rapidly. “What video?”

“I haven't hurt anyone,” Joan said, flashing a glare at Matt. “Not the way you're thinking. I want to show this—”

“Whoa.” Matt stopped her. “I'm gonna read you your rights,” he said and read the Revised Miranda to her. “You understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joan said. “I'm tired. Look at this and it's up to you what you do with it—and me.”

“Buck told us he got an envelope from you,” Matt said. “You know what I'm talking about.”

She ignored him and pushed a video into the player under a TV provided for waiting families.

After setting the machine to play, she stepped back, her mouth turned down and jerking. “There was an envelope in my purse. Vic gave it to me for safekeeping. I lost it somewhere.”

“Could Buck have taken it from your purse?” Matt asked.

She stared at him, and finally shrugged. “He had the opportunity.”

The screen came to life.

Nick slowly let his hands fall to his sides. Colin Fox, younger and fitter, sitting behind a big, black desk, looked directly at the camera. “We have our latest selection for you,” he said. “You'll find plenty to interest you. The usual arrangements will apply.”

One after another, images moved across the screen. From time to time Joan, also much younger, was present, interacting with a girl or boy to keep them quiet and make sure they turned to show all sides.

Once she said, “Look at Vic, he always makes sure everyone can see how pretty you are.”

Abruptly, Matt crossed the room and stopped the video. Sampson had reentered the room and he stood beside Joan, holding her elbow.

“What is that?” Aurelie said.

“Vic brought the wrong video to give to me,” Joan said with a slight smirk. “He must have intended it to be one that showed me, but he couldn't have known he was mentioned on it, too. It was his insurance against me, to keep me quiet. But it wouldn't have done him any good by now. That video is a sales catalog.”