Chapter Ten
Fact-Checking
Monday
Luna and Chi-Chi were up at the crack of dawn. Considering they’d stayed up past midnight sharing the day’s events, they were both rather perky. Luna called Cullen’s room. Chris answered.
“Good morning, Marshal. How did you sleep?” She was being a bit sassy.
“Rather well, and yourself?”
“Like a log.” She wished they could have spent the night together, but it wasn’t possible under the circumstances. “What time are you leaving?” she asked.
“In about an hour. And you?”
“As soon as Cullen is ready. Tell him to shake a leg. We gotta train to catch.” She hung up with the biggest grin on her face.
“You are on a mission.” Chi-Chi shook her head in acknowledgment.
“I am,” Luna replied. She gave herself a once-over and made sure she had a couple of protein bars, bottles of water and her copy of Letting Go: The Pathway of Surrender by Dr. David Hawkins. She held it up. “See? I don’t even have to sing.”
“Ah. There are such things as miracles.”
“Oh, you have been spending too much time with my brother.” Luna laughed.
“I am thinking maybe not enough.”
“Ooooh . . .” Luna chided. “Have a little crush on the old boy?”
“Well, you know I do. And after the day he planned for me yesterday? I can tell you, he is a kind and generous man.”
“You knew that already.” Luna laughed.
“But as you pointed out, sometimes it is important to look at things from a different perspective.”
“Amen to that, sister.” Luna patted the book and tossed it into her tote. “Gimme a hug.”
The women embraced and wished each other safe travels. “See you in a couple of days,” Luna said as she waved and went out the door. Cullen was entering the hallway at the same time.
“Ready?” Luna asked him.
“Just give me a minute.” Cullen grabbed the door before it shut behind Luna. He wanted to wish Chi-Chi a proper goodbye. And he did. It was one of the most fervent kisses in his life. It almost made him dizzy. Chi-Chi was glad when Cullen left the room so she could fall backward on the bed in delight.
Penn Station was overflowing with commuters, and Luna and Cullen were going against the tide. They had to hold on to each other to avoid being trampled by the busy, oblivious masses. They jostled their way to the Moynihan Train Hall, where they waited near the track entrance. Several minutes later, a silverlike bullet pulled into the station. It was the famed high-speed Acela, the fastest train in the Western Hemisphere, which boasted 150 mph when at maximum speed. Unfortunately, that speed was only possible between New Haven and Boston, where the infrastructure could handle it. The rest of the route was riddled with one-hundred-year-old tracks, causing the train to average less than half its potential.
“Now what kind of stupid is that?” Luna remarked as they were settling into their seats. “Build a really fast train, but don’t have the rails to support it. Ugh. Drives me crazy.”
“Hey, it’s not even eight. Can you tone down the hyperbole at least until we leave the station?”
“I am not being hyperbolic. I am not exaggerating in any way whatsoever.” She plunked herself down next to the window. “Stupid is stupid.”
Cullen looked over at the man sitting across the aisle. “Don’t mind her. They only let her out once a month.”
The man laughed. “She’s not wrong, you know.”
Luna stuck out her tongue at her brother.
“Siblings?” the man asked.
“Can you tell?” Luna joked; then an announcement came over the loudspeaker announcing the train’s departure.
“I’ll try to keep her under wraps,” Cullen assured the gentleman, who was reading the Wall Street Journal—the print edition of the newspaper, not on an electronic device.
Luna made an aren’t-you-funny kind of face as the train pulled out of the station. She rolled her pashmina, placed it next to the window and used it as a pillow. She needed to get some shut-eye. As soon as her head hit the makeshift pillow, she was out like a light.
Halfway into the journey, Luna woke with a start. She was slightly disoriented and her mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. “Whoa.” She blinked several times. “That was some kind of deep sleep.” She stretched her neck back and forth and from side to side.
“I was enjoying the quiet,” Cullen said from behind his book. He was reading a thriller by Lee Child.
“You really should take your act on the road.” Luna elbowed him.
“I am, but it’s on the rail instead.”
“My, aren’t you chipper today.” Luna gave him a sideways look.
“And you are, what? Going steady?” Cullen couldn’t contain himself any longer. He hadn’t said anything earlier, but he’d noticed the ring.
Luna clasped her necklace. “Oh, this. Well, yeah. Kinda.”
“Don’t be coy.” Cullen put down his book. “The two of you have a thing. It’s okay. I’m totally cool with it.”
“Well, I should hope so.” Luna rearranged herself in her seat. “He’s a good guy.”
“I know. And I am happy you have someone who actually gets you.” Cullen was being sincere. “As much as I love you, I know you’re not always easy to be with. You and your ‘vibes.’ ” He used air quotes.
“Oh, and you’re perfect,” Luna chided.
“I was yesterday.” Cullen raised his eyebrows.
“Thanks to Elle.” Luna was smug.
“Well, I pulled it off. That’s all that matters.”
Luna hugged her pashmina against her chest. “It was a magical day.”
Cullen was going to comment on the use of the word “magical,” but she was right.
Another hour went by, and they were finally at their destination. The well-dressed gent had departed several stations before, while Luna was napping. Cullen gestured to the seat where the man had been sitting. “He couldn’t take your snoring any longer.”
“I don’t snore,” Luna protested and gave him a gentle shove down the aisle.
A rental car with a driver was waiting for them at the station. They dropped him back at the rental office and then started toward Briarcliff. “This is kind of exciting,” Luna said.
“How do you get me into these things?” Cullen asked, looking ahead at the road.
“You love it,” Luna replied.
“Sometimes,” he half-agreed.
A half hour later, they arrived at an imposing building with a sign reading BRIARCLIFF ACADEMY. It looked more like an asylum than a school from the front. “Kinda creepy,” Luna remarked as she poked her head out the passenger window.
“Well, if there is a guy yelling, ‘Here’s Johnny,’ I am outta there!”
“You and me both, bro,” Luna agreed wholeheartedly. “So, who are we meeting?”
“Mr. Purcell. He’s the headmaster.”
“Does he know why we are here?”
“I told him I want to authenticate the piece I got from Longmire. He seemed fine with it.”
The main door to the school was locked. They rang the bell. It took several moments for a haggard-looking man to open the heavy wooden door. “Can I help you?” he squeaked.
“Yes. Hello. Cullen and Luna Bodman to see Mr. Purcell,” Cullen said.
“Come in.” The man stepped aside to let them in and then bolted the door behind them. Both Cullen and Luna jumped. “Follow me.”
Luna tried not to laugh. She was remembering Marty Feldman playing Igor in Young Frankenstein. She bit her lip. Walk this way. Cullen knew exactly what she was thinking. They moved past a round table in the foyer and into a large office with bookshelves covering all three walls. A mahogany desk faced the doorway. An equally ragged man stepped out from behind the desk. “How do you do? I am Professor Cuthbert Purcell.”
Luna almost lost it. The entire place was a cliché.
“How do you do,” Cullen responded. “I am Cullen Bodman, and this is my sister, Luna.”
“Now, what is it you need of me?” The man seemed to be in a hurry.
“I recently purchased a piece that was salvaged from Longmire. They told us it originated here.”
“Yes, we send all of our things to them when they are no longer in a useful condition.”
Cullen pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through the photos. He always took before and after pictures. Once he found the photo of the armoire, he showed it to the older man. “Does this look familiar?”
“When did you say you got it?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“That looks quite old.” The man peered at the photo more closely. He moved back to his desk and shuffled some papers in a folder. “Longmire has been working with us for many years. Thirty, at least.” He tapped his finger on his lips. “Recently, they phoned and told us there was a storage error and they were in possession of several items that had been sitting in the back of their warehouse for a very long time. Evidently, the three pieces were behind other items and were discovered when they were going to demolish one of the buildings. We told them we had no use for them, and they could dispose of them as they wished. We didn’t think they would get any money for them, given how long they had been sitting there.”
“Do you have any idea when the items were moved from Briarcliff to Longmire?” Cullen asked. He could tell Luna was getting restless.
“Let me see here.” The headmaster shuffled through more papers. “April 2003.”
Luna resisted the temptation to yell, Bingo!
Cullen made a few notes. “So, we can safely say this piece was once the property of Briarcliff.”
“I suppose so.” The man ran his fingers through the five hairs that were still growing on his head.
“Thank you. I very much appreciate your time,” Cullen said.
“Not at all. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Luna had one question. “Professor, was this taken from someone’s room? Or do you have a place where you keep things you are going to donate or sell?”
“We have a back building where we store things, yes. Why?”
“Just curious. So, this could have been sitting in your building for a while as well?”
“Absolutely. We usually wait until we have enough for a pickup.”
“And who organizes those pickups?” Luna had to ask the question.
“Usually a student.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know who that student was?”
“I wasn’t here at the time. Does it matter?”
“Just trying to connect the dots.” She paused. “For authentication purposes.”
“Of course. Let me check.” He looked through the file again. “Yes, here is the authorization.”
Luna held her breath.
“Chad Pierce Jr. He called for the truck on April 2.”
Luna was about to bust a gut. Cullen knew he had to get her out of there pronto. “Thank you, Professor. You have been most helpful.”
“No problem at all. Have a good day.” He walked back behind his desk, having no idea he might have just cracked a twenty-year-old case.
Cullen and Luna dashed outside. Luna phoned Chris immediately, but the call went to voice mail. She was disappointed she couldn’t tell Chris the news directly, but she left a message. “Chris. On April 2, 2003, Chad Pierce Jr. authorized Longmire to pick up some old furniture from a back building at Briarcliff. Coincidence? Ha!”
Luna and Cullen took a car back to the rental office and then were driven to the train station. She could hardly wait to meet up with the marshal later that day.
On the train ride back, Luna couldn’t help but ask Cullen about Chi-Chi. She knew he was falling for her big-time.
“So, tell me, bro, how was your date?” She had already heard Chi-Chi’s version; now she wanted to hear his.
“Spectacular.” He smiled. “Elle’s idea was spot-on.”
“And?” Luna was pulling taffy now.
“And what?” Cullen refused to continue.
“You know I am not going to stop until you spill it.”
“Okay. So here’s the big thing.” Cullen took a deep breath. “Chi-Chi is from Nigeria. I am from North Carolina. Some people would not think much of our relationship.”
“Why should you care what people think?” Luna was quite serious.
“I suppose I really don’t, but society . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Oh, bugger society. People will judge you no matter what if they want to. It makes them feel better about themselves. You cannot live your life fearing what people might think because they are going to think what they will no matter what you do.” She took a beat. “Look at me. I’m kooky, spooky. But I don’t let it bother me anymore.” She nudged Cullen. “Of course, I have my big brother to protect me, but you have your Lunatic sister to protect you.” She patted his arm. “People will feel what they feel, think what they think and do what they do. You cannot live your life wondering and worrying about other people. It’s a waste of time worrying about things you have no control over.” She sat back and let him digest her words of wisdom. For now, she needed a nap.
* * *
Marshal Gaines rented a car and drove to Colts Neck, New Jersey. He was meeting one of the county commissioners at the local municipal office, where he would be able to look at a plot plan of the area in question.
Commissioner Licitra greeted him with a warm welcome and a handshake. “We don’t usually get US Marshals visiting here. At least not in the past century.”
Chris gave him an odd look. “What changed?”
“The repeal of Prohibition.”
“Really?” Chris was intrigued. “I thought that was the realm of the FBI and the IRS.”
“Some kind of task force. This was the wilderness during the 1920s.” He motioned for Chris to follow him into a small conference room with too much fluorescent lighting. A large map of the area was pinned on the wall. “What were you particularly interested in?”
Chris gave him the rough location. Licitra pointed to an area that looked as if it had been subdivided.
“What is all this?” Chris asked.
“The property you are asking about used to be an old farm. Hadn’t been in use for maybe twenty-five years. But the buildings date back to the early part of the twentieth century. They recently demolished the original farmhouse and are about to begin excavating the rest of the property. If you want, we can take a ride over there.”
“That would be great. I appreciate it.”
The two men got into the commissioner’s SUV and rode out to the construction site. There were bulldozers on one side of the property. A group of men were standing together having a heated conversation. Licitra and Gaines approached the men. “What’s going on?” Licitra asked.
“When we tore down the old concrete shed, we found a tunnel,” one of the men said. “It looks like it leads to where the old barn used to be.”
Another chimed in, “So now we have to get a different permit to dig up the pieces of the tunnel.”
Licitra grinned. “You guys dug up a bootleg operation.”
“Say what?” one of them asked in disbelief.
“Back in the days of Prohibition, the moonshiners would build stills in sheds in the middle of nowhere. The bootleggers would build tunnels and underground passageways that ran from one part of the property to the shed. It was often under the barn or the house itself. It depended on how much money and property they had,” Licitra continued. “There were interconnected passageways with trapdoors that enabled them to check on their still without being seen. If the authorities thought there was something going on, they would try to burn down the sheds, so many of them were built with concrete. In New Jersey alone, there are over a thousand records of court cases about gin stills”
Chris’s mind was racing. “Is it possible to get the name of the people who owned this land prior to 2003?”
“Sure. Let’s go back to the office. Meanwhile, guys, stop working. We need to pull more permits.”
The foreman did not look happy. “I’m going to have to call the bank and the developer to let them know there is going to be a delay. We don’t want to run out of time before our financing expires.”
Chris stopped in his tracks. “What bank is it?”
“Metropolitan Savings and Loan.”
* * *
J.R. almost had a stroke when he got the call. “What do you mean, they have to halt demolition?”
The foreman explained. “The commissioner was here with someone looking at the property, and the commissioner said we had to get another permit on account of the tunnels. Something about the EPA. They gotta test the soil again.”
“But we already had a soil analysis!” J.R. was livid and panicked.
“Yeah, but we didn’t have a tunnel at the time.” The foreman was used to being yelled at by clients and bankers.
“Cripes. Well, get it done, and fast. Does Davidson Contracting know?”
“I’m calling them now. Thought I’d give you a heads-up since you guys are footing the bill. For now.”
J.R. slammed down the phone and dropped his head in his hands. He’d thought he’d successfully buried his past—or was about to. He had been meticulous about rooting out the owners of the farmland and partnering with Davidson. For several years, the farm’s owners used it as a tax write-off, selling just enough pumpkins to qualify. But the several million dollars they were being offered represented a far better deal than the few thousand dollars they got to recover on their tax bill.
J.R.’s phone rang again. “What?”
“A Mr. Henry Johnson is on the phone.”
“Tell him I’m in a meeting.” He slammed the phone down again.
Things were not going well for J.R. The last thing he needed was that nuisance bothering him again. He got up and began to pace. About fifteen minutes later, his phone rang again. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Johnson is here to see you.”
J.R. thought his head was going to explode. Before he could say another word, Johnson brazenly walked into his office. J.R.’s assistant was vehemently trying to stop him from behind.
“Hey there, J.R.,” said Hank. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”
“What do you want?” J.R. demanded, shooing his assistant out of the room. The niceties were out the window now.
“Aw, is that any way to talk to an old friend?” Hank was really pressing his luck.
“We are not friends. Never were. You did me a favor once and I repaid you—twice. Now get the hell out of my office before I call security.” J.R. was livid as he flung his arm in the direction of the door.
“Okay. Okay. Don’t blow a gasket. I’ll just come back later when you’re in a better mood.”
“Don’t even think about it.” J.R. was at the crossroads of violence. He considered choking the hell out of the guy.
Hank Johnson saw the rage in J.R.’s eyes. He knew he had stepped way over the line and quickly retreated to the outer office. He moved faster than he had in years and dashed to the elevator. When the doors opened, two very large security guards greeted him. “May we escort you to the door?” one of them asked. It wasn’t really a question.
Back in his office, J.R. was pacing furiously. Gregory stood in the doorway and asked, “Can I do anything for you?”
J.R. stopped and looked up. “No.” He took a deep breath. “Thanks. Just shut the door, please.” Gregory slowly and quietly pulled it closed. J.R. moved to the credenza and poured a Scotch. His watch said 11:00 a.m. Too bad. He had to calm his nerves. He had to think of what do to next. Of course he would extend the option. What other choice did he have? The bank stood to make over a million dollars in interest over the next five years. A million dollars. The magic number. Or so he thought.
* * *
Chris noticed there was a voice mail waiting for him. He dialed and heard Luna’s message. Bingo! He pressed her speed dial number. “You were right again, Luna.”
“I am so relieved.” Luna truly was. She would hate herself if she was wrong about J.R. and had all those suspicious thoughts about him. Guilty until proven innocent. She really didn’t like approaching things that way. But that was the nature of her gift, such as it was. She continued, “I mean, I’m relieved my intuition was right. It’s just kinda bad that it was.”
“You were right on the money. No pun intended.” Chris chuckled.
“So now what happens?”
“I am going to run those prints, so don’t let anyone touch the armoire until I get there. When are you guys heading back to Asheville?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. So am I. Do you know what flight you’re on?”
Luna opened her bag and checked the paper ticket. She always liked a backup. Technology could mess you up if it wasn’t working. “Flight leaves Newark at one.”
“Good. We’re on the same flight. What time do you think you’ll be back in the city?”
“We are on the train now, so we should be back at the hotel by five.”
“Okay. Good. I’ll catch up with you guys there.”
“Cool. See you soon.” Luna clicked off the phone.
Eventually, the train pulled into the station. Luna and Cullen unfolded themselves from the wide, cushy seats and squeezed their way through the crowded corridor of the Acela, then through another crowd at Penn Station. “I don’t know how these people do this every day. I would lose my mind,” Cullen noted as the thousands of people scurried to catch their trains to get home.
“I hear ya,” Luna concurred. “I wouldn’t be able to take all this anxiety. Mine or theirs!” She clung to the back of Cullen’s jacket. “This is just crazy. Why do people do this?” She knew it was a rhetorical question, but she couldn’t help but ponder, nonetheless. Why? Surely the money couldn’t be that good. She thought about some of her sociology studies. People tended to do what their parents did. It was called intragenerational mobility. A horizontal move within their social strata. They basically had similar jobs and similar lifestyles. But things like pandemics and war could upend that continuity and force people to make drastic moves. After WWII, many people who were raised in the cities moved to the burgeoning suburbs. The next generation tended to leave the suburbs and move back to more metropolitan areas. Then the pandemic came, and people were moving anywhere to get away from the throngs. So much had happened in the past fifty years, it was quite startling.
Cullen could see his sister’s mind ticking. “You okay?”
“Yes. Just pondering the socioeconomics of commuting.”
“Deep.” Cullen saw an opening in the crowd and moved faster. Again, they were moving against the tide of commuters.
“See? Even when I am trying to be serious, you mock me.” She gave him a helpful nudge.
“There are so many reasons to mock you,” Cullen teased, ducking his head in anticipation of being clobbered.
They exited the station on 7th Avenue, where a line of taxis were waiting. Most had dropped off passengers entering the station.
Once Luna and Cullen had arrived back at the hotel, they went to their rooms. “I need a shower,” Luna said. “I feel gross.” She looked at her brother. “Don’t you dare say a word.”
About an hour later, Chris also returned. He phoned Luna, and they made plans along with Cullen to meet for dinner at seven. Despite all the restaurants at their disposal, Chris wanted them to experience Odeon—the history, the food and its more casual atmosphere.
They met in the lobby at six forty-five and walked the few blocks to the restaurant. When they were seated, they pulled out their phones, pads and notebooks. Cullen began with the authentication of the armoire. Chris then corroborated that the dates J.R. authorized the armoire for salvage matched with the alleged kidnapping. He went on to tell them about the farm, the tunnels, the shed for the still. “The way I see it, someone, most likely J.R. and perhaps an accomplice, knew about the tunnels.”
“But how?” Luna asked.
“I did a little more digging into J.R.’s checkered schooling. Evidently, he was either kicked out or dropped out of several private schools. One was Horace Mann.”
“How do you know this?” Luna asked, wide-eyed.
Chris gave her a look. “I know someone who knows someone.” Then he smiled. It was a phrase they used with each other frequently.
“Aha.” Luna grinned. “Continue, s’il vous plaît.”
“Merci.” He continued, “During spring break, several of the students went to New Jersey to spend some time in the fresh air. At an old farmhouse. In Colts Neck. It turned out the farmhouse was owned by a bootlegger during Prohibition.” He went on to reiterate what he had learned earlier that day. “They built interconnected tunnels from either the main house, a barn or a back building that led to the shack where they had their stills. There were well concealed trapdoors in the floors of the shacks.”
“Wow,” Luna said in awe.
Chris sat back and took a pull of his beer. “The shack where Pierce dropped the money had an underground tunnel.”
“Oh my gosh!” Luna began to put it together.
“Yes. Once the drop was complete, someone, maybe J.R., went through the tunnel and retrieved the money.”
“So where did he keep the money?” Luna asked.
“That much we don’t know yet. He must have stashed it somewhere and then gone back to get it at a later date,” Chris replied. “We have to trace his steps from the point where his father picked him up.”
“But for how long?” Luna asked.
“From what the professor told me, J.R. finished school and then left for Europe for several months. When he came back, he got a job in the loan office of a bank.” Chris had a devilish grin on his face. “The very same bank that is funding the construction project on the very same farmland.” He knew the next word was coming, so he beat her to it. “Coincidence? I don’t think so.”
“So what do we do now?” Cullen asked.
“We have a few options. One, I can confront J.R. and tell him we have a lot of evidence that is pointing in his direction and hope for a confession.”
“Do you think that would work?” Cullen asked.
“Hard to tell. However, he comes from a powerful family who could quash our attempts to reopen the case.”
“Yes, but Camille and Chad seem like very upstanding people,” Luna said.
“Yes, and he is their son. They did everything they could to protect him when this happened. They might do the same now,” Chris pointed out.
“What’s the second option?” Cullen asked.
“I could meet you in Asheville and dust the cabinet for prints.”
Luna was overjoyed. “See! I told you!”
“Easy, girl. I could tell him that is my intention, which may also spur a confession.” Chris knew they were on to something.
Luna pursed her lips. “True. Kind of a threat.”
“More like coaxing him.” Chris appreciated Luna’s enthusiasm. “Since we are already here, in New York, I think I am going to go for the first idea. He already seemed rattled when Cullen mentioned the armoire. And then there was that strange dude who got under J.R.’s skin. J.R. just might be ready to spill his guts. Get it over with.” Chris motioned for the waiter to take their order. “I’ve seen people on the brink before, and I think he just might be.” Chris made a few recommendations from the menu to the others and ordered a bottle of wine.
“Very good, sir,” the waiter concurred. A few minutes later, he returned with a bottle of Whispering Angel, a light, dry rosé. After the server had poured their wine, Chris raised his glass. “To the best amateur detectives I know!” He knew the word “amateur” would gall Luna, and it did.
“Amateur! I beg your pardon.” But she knew he was teasing and gave him a big smile in return. “But seriously, think about it.” Then she used one of her favorite expressions: “What are the odds?” She held up her thumb. “Cullen gets an armoire.” Then came her index finger. “We get invited to New York.” Up went the next finger. “To be with people who were involved in a kidnapping.” She continued to tick off the incidents on her hand. “You! You just happened to meet with a professor who remembered the case.” She stopped. “Okay. That’s four things. On their own they would not be of any consequence. But a convergence of related incidents? Again, I ask—what are the odds?”
No one answered. “Well, do you want to know what I think?” she asked.
“I am sure you will tell us.” Cullen dabbed his mouth with the linen napkin.
“I think it was karma.” She sat back and let that sink in. After a few brief moments, she went on. “It was time J.R. had a reckoning. Look at his parents. They are kind. Generous beyond belief. The angst he put them through. The money he stole from them. No, it was time karma caught up with him.”
Chris eyed Cullen. How could they disagree?
“So what do you think, oh, great, wise woman?” Chris asked.
“I think you’re right about confronting him. J.R. is about to snap, crackle and pop. I feel that he wants to purge his guilt.”
“Cullen? Any thoughts?” Chris looked at him.
“Me? I’m just another bozo on this bus. You’re the driver. I mean, the two of you take turns. I’m for whatever you guys decide.”
“Then it’s settled.” Luna stopped. She didn’t want to take over the entire evening. “Just one more thing.” The men rolled their eyes. “It was also your karma.” She pointed her fork in Chris’s direction. “You were meant to solve this. The end.” She’d said what she had to say.
“I’m going to call J.R. tomorrow morning to set up an appointment to meet in his office. I’ll lay it all out for him. He might be outraged at the insinuation, but he won’t have much choice if I tell him we plan to dust the armoire for his prints. He could claim it was in his room, but I don’t think he’s willing to go the distance on this. It would involve his family. His job. It could turn into a horribly embarrassing circus. And I think J.R. is the type who would rather avoid such controversy.”
“Tell me something,” Cullen asked. “In legal terms. How did he break the law if it wasn’t a real kidnapping?”
“Extortion, for one.”
“And how would you prove it if his family doesn’t cooperate?” Cullen asked.
“It can either be very complicated or very simple. If he protests, it gets complicated. We—law enforcement, that is—would have to try to prove an illegal act was committed. We can’t do that unless his parents file a complaint. Remember, he was only eighteen at the time, so the court could be sympathetic.”
“And the simple way?” Luna queried.
“He tells his parents and lets them decide. If they don’t press charges and he offers restitution, there is nothing I can do. Legally, that is.” Chris motioned for the waiter to pour everyone another glass of wine. “Morally? That is the thing I am going to do tomorrow. Challenge his ethics and his integrity.”
Luna raised her glass. “Here’s to integrity.” They clinked glasses and finished their entrées, then polished off the meal with Odeon’s famous ice cream sandwiches. They casually strolled back to the hotel, Luna’s arms linked through both Cullen’s and Chris’s. She sighed. “My two favorite men.”
As they approached their floor, an awkward moment occurred between Luna and Chris. Chi-Chi and Elle had departed earlier that day, leaving Luna with the room to herself. She decided to let Chris make the move. But he was a gentleman and wanted her to suggest what they were both thinking. But she didn’t, and so they parted outside each other’s doors and had to be satisfied with a brief kiss good night. When Luna shut the door behind her, she wanted to kick herself. She would have to be satisfied with that kiss and knowing they would meet up for breakfast in the morning. She fingered the ring by her neck, wondering where the relationship might go. For the first time, she didn’t feel anything but love and admiration to and from a man. Not fear, not the need to be needed or wanted, possessed or trapped. Just love. The love that comes from a deep friendship. From your best friend.
Once she settled in, she phoned Chi-Chi and told her they wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, and promised to fill her in once they got home. She then phoned Elle and let her know about her travel plans. Elle assured Luna everything at the center would be covered and that she would phone Alex to ask him to bring Wylie over to her house so he would have some company with Ziggy and Marley.
Everything was falling into place.