A Field of Red (29 page)

 “What?” The fire chief turned, looking.

“Look,” one of the firemen called out. “There’s someone in the fire.”

The fire chief was wearing full gear, even though they were out in the middle of a field. It felt odd, to be fully dressed out so far away from any structures, but the field needed to be managed.

“Over there, by the river,” the man said again.

The fire chief followed where his man was pointing. The helmet made it hard to see anything farther away than about twenty feet, so he pulled off the mask and scanned the riverbank on the other side of the fire.

There was a dark figure slumped against one of the trees.

 “Well, I’ll be damned,” the fire chief said. “That’s too far to go through. Call it in. Send someone to circle around where the field isn’t burned yet and get them out. I’ll call the others to slow the burn,” he said. “And get police and EMS out here. Now.”

 “You okay?” Chief King said.

He was looking at Frank Harper, covered with mud and caked with black soot. The man was alive, barely, sitting in the back of an ambulance. It had come over the dispatch that a man had been staggering by the river near the prescribed burn in Freeman Prairie. King had already been on his way over when they had come over the radio with a positive ID on the person.

Harper pulled off the oxygen mask.

“Nope, I’m pretty far from alright. Someone jumped me, hit me over the head, and left me in that field to burn.”

He was pissed and had every right to be. He was huffing on the oxygen provided by the EMS. Frank was covered in soot from head to toe, his clothes torn, and he was bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts on his hands and face. The EMS team was working on his face, cleaning off the soot and applying something to the cuts.

“Did you miss me?” Frank asked.

King nodded. “Thought you took the money and ran.”

“What, and miss out on the $50,000 reward?”

“You suck at math,” King said.

Frank leaned forward to talk to King privately.

“By the way,” Frank said quietly. “I think it was Lassiter. And Agent Shale.”

King looked around at the others and climbed up in the ambulance, shooing the EMS and firemen away.

“What?”

“I was checking on the Holly Toys property last night. The guard walked me through, and he said that the place had already been sold to another investment group. Lassiter sold it already. I was calling you when I got jumped.”

“I got that part of the message,” King said.

Frank nodded. “To have a buyer lined up that fast, he would have had to know it was coming to him. I’d bet a case of Maker’s Mark that he’s behind the kidnapping—took the girls, squirreled them away, then waited on Martin to liquidate.”

Chief King nodded, thinking about it. If Lassiter was behind this, he was playing the long game, setting everything in motion and then waiting for Nick Martin to come to him, hat in hand, and sell the property. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“No, not unless he needed money,” Frank said. “It’s actually pretty smart—he gives Nick money for the other half, so Lassiter owns the property outright. Then he sells it—if Lassiter already had a buyer lined up, he was free and clear. And he’d get some of his original payment back from the ransom, depending on how many other people are involved.” Frank said, and then he went back to sucking on the oxygen mask.

“You think Lassiter knocked you out?”

Harper shrugged. “Not sure. But Shale, how could he have missed the property sale? Seems like a big thing to miss. Somebody hit me, but I don’t think it was Lassiter or Shale. Though, how they got the jump on me, I’ll never know.”

King thought about it. “I’ll call it in.”

Frank shook his head.

“No. It doesn’t explain everything. Unless Nick Martin was passing along pertinent information to Lassiter every step of the way, you’ve still got a leak. Maybe it’s Shale, or maybe not. Here, look at these,” Frank said, and began fishing in his pocket. He pulled out a handful of zip ties and put them in King’s hand. “I was zip tied,” Harper said. “Black zip ties, like those used by everyone on your police force.”

“And anyone who’s ever shopped at Menards,” King answered.

“Maybe. But the boxes of case files, and the empty box that held the ransom money, they were all in my trunk. They all ended there in the field with me, and now they’re gone. If I hadn’t woken up…”

King nodded.

“Glad you did. OK, let me do some work on Lassiter, and then I’ll bring him in, personally. You get cleaned up and come in.”

Frank looked at him.

“Should I stay gone? Whoever did this thinks I’m dead—maybe that could be helpful.”

“Nah,” King said. “It’s already been on the police band. Anyone listening would know.”

Frank nodded.

“Gotcha. Will you have someone swing by Holly Toys and check to see if my car is still there?”

Frank had refused the paramedics’ offer to go to the hospital—it was just smoke inhalation and cuts and bruises. His wrists hurt the worst—too much rolling around and crawling on the wet ground, struggling with the restraints. He looked bad and needed a shower, but he had something he needed to do first. The EMTs had been kind enough to drop him at Laura’s apartment. He’d knocked for a minute before someone answered the door. It was early Sunday morning.

“Grandpa?”

Frank smiled when he saw Jackson, who let him in, and was hugging the small boy, when Laura came in. Her eyes grew wide as she took in his burnt clothes and general appearance.

“What happened?”

Frank hugged Jackson again. “You still got those dinosaurs I got you?”

“I sure do,” Jackson said. “They’re cool.”

“Can you go get them for me?”

Jackson squeaked and ran off into the apartment.

Frank turned to Laura.

“Someone tried to kill me,” he said matter-of-factly.

Her face fell. “What?”

“I’m going to be straight with you—that’s what you wanted, right?”

She nodded, wary.

“Okay,” Frank said. “I was working on the kidnapping case, and figured out who did it, or at least I think he’s involved. Anyway, last night I was following up on a lead and got jumped, knocked over the head—”

“Oh my God,” she said shaking her head. “Are you OK?”

Frank looked at his daughter.

“It gets worse,” Frank said. “They tied me up and left me in a field, east of town, that was being burned. They were doing a scheduled burn, and whoever put me there knew it was going to happen. They wanted me dead.” As he talked, her eyes got bigger. “I woke up and got free.”

She hugged him, spontaneously, and then backed away. Dust and soot from his clothes wafted between them, and the room suddenly smelled like smoke.

 “But the prairie burn didn’t start until this morning,” she said. “It was in the paper. Where were you all night?”

“No clue,” he said. “Knocked out, sedated, probably. My car and phone are gone, but my wallet was in my pocket.” King had called the EMS team to let Frank know his car was no longer parked at the Holly Toys warehouse.

Jackson came back into the room and held up the dinosaurs for Frank to see, then plopped down on the floor at their feet and started playing.

She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Something horrible could have happened to you.”

He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

“I’m glad you’re OK,” she said. “I’m just so glad that nothing—”

Frank nodded. “But it’s not over—they thought I was dead. Chief King is making an arrest soon, but until the girls are found, I need you on your toes.

She made a face that said he didn’t understand.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Frank said quietly, glancing at Jackson playing on the floor. “I think a policeman might be involved. The person behind the kidnapping knew everything we were doing. Knew where I was. So don’t talk to anyone and don’t get in any cars with strangers. Even cops.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said. “If it’s a cop, they might try to get to me through you or Jackson. My hands were zip tied,” Frank said, holding up his wrists. “Civilians don’t do that. And I was dumped in the field, and I don’t know how I got out there, unless it was from a vehicle.”

She bit her lip, thinking.

“Any idea who’s involved?”

“Nothing yet,” he said. “It might be the guy that’s getting arrested now, but I don’t think so. Too many things are off about this case.”

He watched Jackson play for a moment, then continued.

“Look, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m helping out with the case because that’s what I do,” Frank said. “And I’m good at it. Your mother always thought I had some kind of death wish, but that’s not it. I’m just good at this, good at catching bad guys. But they don’t play nice.”

Laura nodded.

“You are good at it,” she said. “Mom always said you were, but it was just too hard for her. She told me once that she hated the sound of a phone ringing. She always assumed it was someone calling with news about you. Bad news.”

He nodded grimly.

“I can see why that’s hard for people to deal with,” he said. “And I could have been a lot nicer to your mom. She deserved better.”

Frank turned to go, but she hugged him again, holding him for a long moment, despite the fact that he smelled like a campfire.

“Take care,” she said. “And good luck.”

He stepped out onto the front porch of her apartment. Without a car or a phone, he planned to walk the six or eight blocks to the police station, then catch a ride to his hotel to get cleaned up. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. He could have asked Laura for a ride, but he wanted to keep her out of it as much as possible.

There was a cop car idling down the street.

Frank saw it immediately, but he couldn’t make out the driver. Frank walked to the curb, and the patrol car started up and drove slowly toward the apartment building.

Frank reached for his weapon, but it was gone. No car, no gun, no phone. He was cut off from his world.

The car slowed as it approached. It was Deputy Peters.

“You need a ride?” he shouted across the scrubby lawn.

Frank nodded, letting out his breath. He wasn’t sure who to trust anymore, but he needed a ride.

“Yup, that would be great,” Frank said.

Deputy Peters nodded and waited by the car for Frank to climb in. Peters took one last look at the apartment building and then drove away.

“The Chief said you were visiting your daughter and thought you would need a ride,” Peters said. “I hung back—not sure how much you’re telling her. Back to the station?”

“Hotel, if you don’t mind,” Frank said. “I need to get cleaned up.”

Peters nodded and turned the car toward Main Street. “They arrested Matt Lassiter,” Peters said as they drove.

“Really?” Frank said. “I wonder why.”

Peters looked over at Frank.

“You’re pretending you don’t know about it? Jeff said it was your idea.”

Frank gave up the charade. “Look, I know Lassiter sold the building, after having it in his possession for less than twenty-four hours. That takes planning, and that means he probably had someone lined up to buy it before Nick sold it to him. That at least deserves a discussion, right?”

Peters nodded. “Oh, you’ll get no argument from me. Chief brought him in, and he and Graves and the FBI guy are talking to him right now.”

“Shale? That’s interesting,” Frank said, looking out the window. “So, why were you waiting to pick me up – did you volunteer?”

Peters looked at him again. “Why else would I be waiting?”

Frank shook his head.

“I was zip tied.”

“You’re joking,” Peters said, looking at Frank.

“Nope,” Frank said, and looked over at Peters. “It’s a cop, one of King’s men. The car next to my Taurus in the parking lot last night—white with stripes. I didn’t figure it out in time, but it was a police car. And now I don’t know who to trust.”

Peters drove on in silence for a while—the car travelled up Main and stopped for a passing train.

“Well, I don’t know how to get people to trust me,” Peters said, his eyes on the train. “I never have been good at that. Even when I was at the academy in Columbus, trying to get good enough for Jeff to take me seriously, I didn’t make friends. Only thing I know how to do is what I’m doing, taking Jeff’s lead and trying to learn from him. And you. But I’m still thinking about those girls—they’re somewhere, scared.”

“In a dark and cold underground location?” Frank asked.

“I seriously doubt it,” Peters said, looking at Frank. “That’s why we need you on this case, people like you and my cousin. Or else, it will never get solved. If that means you and I have to part ways, it would be worth it. To solve the case.”

Peters turned to watch the train.

Frank kept looking at him, his new “partner,” or as close as he’d had in years. Ben Stone had been a good man, but he’d had trust issues. He’d gotten that lead down in Coral Gables, and even as close as he and Ben had been, the man simply hadn’t let Frank in. But he’d also tried to be a friend to Frank, inviting him over for saltimbocca.

In the end, though, it hadn’t mattered. When he’d really needed to trust Frank, he hadn’t, and he’d died in a pool of his own blood in a dirty alley near the only famous building in Coral Gables, the National Hurricane Center.

Ever since Katrina and St. Bartholomew’s, Frank had found himself thinking about Ben a lot.

The train continued past the line of cars, all stopped behind the lowered gate, waiting patiently.

Frank was torn. If Peters had knocked him out, he was a cool customer. Cooler than anyone Frank had ever met. Peters was a good kid, as far as Frank could tell, and he wasn’t fooled often. But then, to play both sides of the situation, kidnapper and cop, would require a very level head.

The end of the train appeared. Peters sat up and put the car in gear. “So, what did you decide?”

Frank looked at him.

“Do you trust me, or not?” Peters asked. “I’d like to know, ‘cause if you don’t, I’m dropping you right here, and you can hoof it.”

Frank smiled. “Just drive.”