chapter twenty-six

Robin grabbed a salad at a take-out restaurant, then called Charlie’s on her disposable cell phone and asked for Mama. She heard pub noise in the background.

“It’s Robin,” she said.

“Hello,” Mama replied simply. “The lady’s fine.”

Mama was being very cautious. Robin sent a silent thank-you to Jack Ross.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Ah, your new gentleman friend’s been asking for you.” Like Mrs. Jeffers, Mama was an incurable romantic.

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth: How should I know?”

Robin smiled to herself. “Good.”

Mama hung up.

If she ever decided to get out of newspapering, Robin decided she would create the Little Old Ladies’ Fine Detective Agency. Between Mrs. Jeffers and Mama, they could be highly successful.

Then the smile disappeared. Michael Caldwell again. She rather wished she felt confident enough in herself to accept the fact that Michael found her irresistible. But she found that hard to believe. She had never been irresistible to anyone.

She headed back to the motel. She was strung too tight, though, to go to sleep. After making sure she’d fastened all three locks, she ate her salad while watching the news on television. Nothing from the Atlanta area about the murders.

She took a hot shower, then settled in bed with her map and list of marinas. She should be able to cover all the remaining ones tomorrow. Then what? What if she came to a dead end? What if she never discovered the boat’s registration? The name alone didn’t help. There were probably a thousand Phantoms along the Georgia and Florida coast. And even if she did find the registration, would it lead only to an endless trail of shell corporations?

ATLANTA

“An FBI agent is in Brunswick.” The words were laced with anger.

“Not officially. I would know. I just asked for an update on the investigation.”

“And?”

“Ron Holland said everything was on hold until the grand jury session next week. Meredith County and the state are resisting federal participation. Unless we can get some evidence from the Stuart woman, we’re not going in.”

The two men sat together on a bench on MARTA, Atlanta’s rapid rail system. It was eleven p.m. and the car was nearly empty. Meeting this way was safer than telephones now.

“Then why did Ben Taylor take a plane to Brunswick?”

His companion’s eyes changed, flared.

“News to you?”

“Yes. I was told he took a few days’ leave. He’s overdue some downtime.”

“He’s been circling around Robin Stuart for the past week. I think he’s gone to meet her,” said the man dressed in an expensive silk suit.

“You think she told him where she was going?”

“No. I planted enough doubts in her mind about him. But I think he discovered where she’s gone. If he’s going to Brunswick, then I suspect she’s there, too.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell Holland?”

“Maybe he has suspicions of his own. Maybe he doesn’t trust his superiors.”

Alarm leapt into the younger man’s eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Find out what his partner knows.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning.”

“What do they have so far?”

“Nothing. Dead ends. Can’t seek search warrants without cause, and there is no cause. They don’t even have enough evidence to enter the investigation, which is why they pushed for the grand jury.”

“The tracks are well covered except for that damned source. Until we know who it is, we can’t plug holes he might open.”

“Robin Stuart probably doesn’t know much more than she already printed in the newspaper. If so, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“There’s a lot to worry about if she’s in Brunswick. This morning I told the captain of the Phantom to move the boat to the Keys.”

“So … what’s the problem?”

“If she can find the slip, she can get credit card numbers, descriptions. Pieces of the puzzle.”

“I thought you had a bargain with the woman. Her family for silence.”

“Her sisters have disappeared. We can’t find them. We can’t find her. You’ve been damned little help.”

“We checked with the paper’s attorney when we heard she was missing. He said she left for a few days to consider what she’s going to do next week,” the younger man said.

“Like the agent?” A raised eyebrow showed disbelief. “Both of them? At the same time?”

“Don’t panic.”

The older man fixed him with a stare. “I don’t panic. I fix things before they get out of control. She may not name her source, but her disappearance worries us. So does Taylor’s trip.”

“Maybe she hasn’t gone there.”

“I’m not willing to take that chance.”

“How would Taylor know where she’s gone? No one else seems to know.”

“He went by her house. He must have found something in Stuart’s house because then he and his partner paid a visit to Amy Boatright’s house, the widow of Mark Boatright. You remember him. Then Taylor rushed off for a plane. Bought a ticket just an hour before the flight left. Not normal vacation planning.”

The younger man swore softly under his breath.

“If Taylor’s gone to Brunswick after visiting her house, you can bet she’s there,” his companion said. “He hasn’t wanted to let her out of his sight. I planted some suspicion in her head, but if they get together …” He stopped, then continued, “Make yourself useful. I want to know what happened at the Boatright house.”

“I can’t be too obvious.”

“Why the hell do you think we’re paying you so much?”

“How do you know he went to the Boatright home? Are you following him?”

“We had someone watching Stuart’s house.”

“Isn’t that risky?”

The older man shrugged. “Different people. Different cars. Besides, cops are used to following, not being followed.”

“What if the agents noticed them?”

“They didn’t.”

“This is getting out of hand. Fire inspectors investigating the fire. The bureau trying to find ways to weasel in. DEA will be next. How could you be so stupid as to kill those officers?”

His companion stiffened, then glared at him with cold eyes. “My people had no choice. They saw me with Paul Joyner—a rumored drug lord with the chief deputy sheriff?”

“So you escalate. And escalate.”

“I’ve contacted our people in Brunswick. They know what to do if she starts asking questions down there. In the meantime I want to know what Taylor’s partner knows.”

“I thought you wanted her alive.”

“I did, but if she’s getting close … she’s better off dead. I doubt her source will go to anyone else after that. Not if he wants to live.”

“What about the information she says she’s given to other people?”

“I don’t think she has that much. Not yet, anyway. Otherwise it would be in the paper. It’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

The train slowed and the older man stood, rocked as it came to a stop. Then he slipped out the door and was gone.

Robin’s stomach churned when she rose the next morning. She yearned for hot coffee but there wasn’t a machine in her room. She took a quick shower, then ran a comb through the wet, short curls. No dryer. It would just have to dry on its own. Then she slipped on a pair of slacks and a shirt.

Forty minutes later, she arrived at the first marina on her list. This time she started at one of the larger ones. She parked in the lot and strolled down the docks toward the larger boats. None looked like the one she was seeking.

She went to the desk. “Hi,” she said with a brightness she didn’t feel.

An appreciative look came over the man’s face as he looked up from a magazine. “Can I help you?”

She handed him one of her recently printed business cards and gave him the speech. Like the man yesterday, he was instantly interested. Yet when she mentioned the Phantom, she noticed something shift in his eyes, even as he shook his head.

She asked the same questions she’d asked the day before, then said she would like to look around.

He hesitated, then said, “Don’t go bothering anyone.”

As she left, she turned and saw him pick up a phone.

She tried to keep her gait even. It was more difficult today. She’d walked too much yesterday, and now the ankle ached more with every step. Should she hurry toward the car? Something in his demeanor told her he knew something about the boat. That meant others in the marina would as well.

She would give herself a few moments. She walked to the dock and down it, hoping to find people aboard the boats there. She struck gold halfway down with a couple who were walking toward her. They held tennis racquets.

She stopped them. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m trying to find a boat called the Phantom. I want to interview the captain for a story I’m writing about deep-sea fishing. A friend took a trip with him and told me he was really knowledgeable.”

One of them made a face. “The Phantom left yesterday, and we weren’t sorry to see them go,” said the woman. “The crew kept to themselves. Arrogant as the devil. Complained about everything.”

“Really? The clerk didn’t remember a boat like that.”

“Jimmy. He’s as bad as they were.”

“Do you know the name of the captain?”

“Stefan something.” They looked at each other. “Something like Fisher. I thought it funny that a fisherman was named Fisher. That’s how I remembered it. I do know he was foreign. Had a pronounced accent.”

“How long had they been here?”

“I don’t know,” the man said. “Since we’ve been here. Three weeks. I hear they’re here often.”

“Come on,” said the woman, tugging at her companion’s hand. “It’ll be too hot for tennis.”

Robin thanked them and started back to the office. The clerk had lied to her and she wanted to know why. She watched as the young couple got into a small convertible, then she went to the door of the office. It was locked.

She knocked at it, but no one came. Frustrated, she looked around. No one.

Where had he gone?

Then with terrible suddenness, she was aware of someone next to her, pressing a gun into her side.

“Be quiet, Ms. Stuart, and walk toward the parking lot.”

She knew if she did, she probably wouldn’t survive.

She glanced around. No one in sight.

“Move, bitch,” the man said with sudden viciousness.

Maybe there would be someone in the parking lot. Maybe … she could pretend she was terrified.

Pretend?

Her bad foot hit a stone, and she stumbled slightly. She turned around and looked at her captor. “I … have a bad leg.”

“Yeah, that threw us off,” he said, his hand righting her. “We were told to look for someone in a brace. Get going.”

She limped more than necessary, slowing their progress on the short walk to the parking lot. She passed her car.

“That way,” her captor said. She followed the line of his gaze and saw a dark sedan with tinted windows. She knew once she reached it, she was probably as good as dead.

Her gun was in her purse, but with one in her back she wasn’t foolish enough to try to use it.

“Who are you?” she said.

“You didn’t hear what I said. Walk. Naturally. Toward that car.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you can die right here.”

“I have information with other people …”

“Move,” he ordered again, the gun pressing even deeper into her side.

A car horn blew. Her captor looked to the dark sedan.

A warning?

The blast of the horn sounded again. She was aware of a car roaring toward them, then screeching to a halt between where she and her assailant stood and the dark sedan. Her captor spun around as the door opened and Ben Taylor burst from inside, a gun in his hand.

But her captor had a second’s advantage …

Robin threw herself at him and the shot went wild.

He knocked her to the ground. She rolled over and saw Ben jump her attacker, both of them landing on the cement. Ben hit the man’s head against the pavement and the assailant went limp.

She looked up. Two men from the parked car were racing toward them. A van squealed into the parking lot.

“Ben!”

He looked up and saw the van coming, then grabbed her hand. She resisted, leaned down and picked up her purse, then let him push her through the open door into his car. She scooted over to the passenger side as the two men neared the car. The motor was idling, and Ben stepped on the gas. The car seemed to jump, then accelerated.

The two men scattered as Ben steered toward them, then took a sharp right, barely avoiding crashing into the oncoming vehicle. Then they were over a curb. The car sped onto the highway, the van accelerating behind them.

She turned back. The van was only yards behind them. She doubted it would take much time for the dark sedan to follow. Ben swerved just as a shot rang out. She landed against the door. She managed to fasten the seat belt and he swerved again, driving from one side of the road to the other as she heard another shot.

Every nerve leaped and shuddered as the car swayed. Ben made one more turn and the car headed straight toward a truck coming in the opposite direction.