Jericho Point (36 page)

Lily turned around. ‘‘Where do you think you’re going?’’

‘‘Murphy isn’t going to let Toby overdose P.J.,’’ Jesse said. ‘‘He’ll want him coherent enough to suffer. He’s going to rape him, possibly to death.’’

Lily said nothing.

‘‘We don’t have much time. Murphy’s going to sodomize him. Then Toby’s going to shoot him up. He’ll die. You can’t negotiate with them, or plead for more time. Our only chance is to find him before that happens.’’

She glared at him.

‘‘You know I’m right,’’ he said.

He looked at me. ‘‘Get P.J. a jacket and a warm shirt from upstairs, would you? It’s a cold night and he may need them.’’

I was upstairs rooting through P.J.’s clothes when Keith stuck his head around the corner. His face was drawn.

‘‘I overheard you talking with the detectives about a drug overdose,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s probably heroin. If they injected him, it’s likely to be an opiate of some kind.’’

‘‘Yes.’’

He held out a packet of pills. ‘‘Naltrexone. It’s an alcohol antagonist. It’ll also reverse an opiate overdose.’’

I took them, frowning.

‘‘They were prescribed to P.J.’’ He looked at the floor. ‘‘He had inpatient treatment a couple of years ago. These were for aftercare, to help him maintain. They’re left over.’’

‘‘He never took them?’’ I said.

‘‘Give them to the detectives, or whatever. Just get them to P.J.’’ He pressed them into my hand. ‘‘But don’t tell Jesse. He doesn’t know any were left. He’d probably think all the money was wasted.’’

Clang
, like an anvil hitting the floor between us, I knew that Jesse must have paid for P.J.’s alcohol detox. And P.J. had gone straight back to drinking and getting high. No wonder Jesse was so disappointed in him, and searching for a way to get P.J. to own up.

‘‘I’m not keeping anything from Jesse. He’s going to try to get P.J. out of this.’’ I put the packet in my pocket. ‘‘How much would he need?’’

‘‘Stuff them down his throat.’’

I turned, and he said, ‘‘I know you think she’s a crackpot.’’

Across the hall I could see the glint of the shrine. His gaze followed mine.

‘‘That room, the trophies . . . The boys mean more to Patsy than anything in the world. She would never hurt them. She didn’t mean for this to happen to P.J. If they . . . if he . . . It’ll kill her.’’

I had no reply. His eyes broke from mine.

I rushed down the stairs. Jesse was waiting. I handed him P.J.’s things and he opened the door.

There stood Marc.

His hand was out, ready to ring the bell. He and Jesse stared at each other for a moment before Jesse let him in.

‘‘I forgot to give Evan her house key. When I came back Lieutenant Rome told me what was going on,’’ he said. ‘‘I couldn’t leave. Murphy wanting payback, that’s on me. Tell me what you need me to do.’’

Jesse hesitated only a second. ‘‘Let’s get the hell out of this house.’’

Jesse unrolled a U.S. Geological Survey map of the coastline on his kitchen table. He put his finger on the Goleta neighborhood where Devi Goldman lived.

‘‘Two hours ago they grabbed P.J. and Devi here,’’ he said. ‘‘Half an hour ago P.J. told Evan he was on Toby Price’s sailboat. Which gives us a range . . .’’

He spread his hands, tracing the coastline. ‘‘Could be anywhere in a ninety-mile radius. Could be all the way up in Arroyo Grande, or in the harbor down in Port Hueneme. Shit.’’

Marc rubbed a thumb across his lips. ‘‘So where do we concentrate?’’

‘‘To collect the money, they have to come ashore. That means Toby either has a skiff that can run in to the beach, or he’s going to moor the sailboat.’’

I leaned on the table. ‘‘The day I was on the sailboat, I didn’t see a skiff tied to it.’’

Jesse stabbed his finger at the map. ‘‘Oil company piers. Here, here . . . maybe five or six possibilities.’’

I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘‘They’re spread out, from Ventura County all the way up to Point Arguello.’’

Marc looked at his watch. It was a diver’s watch with a luminous blue dial. ‘‘It’s eight thirty. Can we cover all of them in an hour and a half?’’

‘‘No,’’ Jesse said.

‘‘We have to narrow this down,’’ I said.

I walked to the plate-glass windows. The surf was pummeling the beach. South of the horizon a storm was brewing, shedding wind in our direction. Spray flew white under the moonlight.

‘‘I bet anything Sinsa and Shaun know where the boat is,’’ I said. ‘‘They had no trouble contacting Toby to send him after P.J. and Devi.’’

‘‘So we get them to tell us, or show us, or lead us there,’’ Jesse said.

‘‘How?’’ Marc said.

I watched the ocean churning black. Thinking of depths and crosscurrents.

‘‘We trick them. Turn them against each other.’’ I turned from the window. ‘‘I have an idea.’’

I got hold of Shaun’s cell phone number from Ted Gaines, Brittany’s father. I didn’t tell him why I wanted it. While I was on the phone with Gaines, Jesse got the Glock. It was our lone weapon; Lieutenant Rome had insisted on keeping hold of Brian’s gun because I’d discharged it into my bathroom—and maybe even into Shaun. Jesse checked the Glock’s magazine, cleared the chamber, and set the gun on the table next to an extra ammunition clip. Then he took off his sweater and reached for P.J.’s shirt. I hung up, giving him a look.

He pulled on P.J.’s shirt and jacket. They were tight across his shoulders.

‘‘You know Lily Rodriguez wants to disguise herself as you and fake the money drop, don’t you?’’

‘‘That’s my sense,’’ I said.

‘‘But that won’t get P.J. back. If we’re going to pull a fast one with a disguise, there’s only one that’ll work. Me.’’

He held out a pair of kitchen scissors. ‘‘Cut my hair.’’

I took them. ‘‘Hold still.’’

Five minutes later, I said, ‘‘Done.’’ He ran a hand over his head.

‘‘Don’t look in the mirror,’’ I said. ‘‘It’ll work. In the dark, from far away. The clothes will do most of the trick.’’

Marc rolled up the map. ‘‘Don’t take offense. It’s a decent imitation, but face it. They’re going to notice the wheelchair.’’

Jesse spun around. ‘‘I know. Believe me, it’s the only thing a lot of people notice. So if I’m not in it, it’ll never dawn on them who I am. All I have to do is stand up and we’re home free.’’

As long as you don’t lose your balance,
I thought.

Jesse nodded to me. ‘‘Okay. You’re on.’’

I phoned Shaun’s number. My stomach was the size of a walnut. The phone rang, and he answered. I took a breath.

‘‘Pick the glass out of your scalp and listen to me,’’ I said.

There was a pause. ‘‘Delaney.’’

‘‘When you tape people’s mouths shut, you keep them from giving you vital information.’’

‘‘What in hell are you talking about?’’

‘‘I have a proposition for you.’’

Another pause. ‘‘Is this some kind of joke?’’

‘‘On you and me. Sinsa’s playing us. And it’s time to turn the tables.’’

He breathed into the receiver. ‘‘What do you mean?’’

‘‘Tell me if I have this right. Sinsa wants you to ambush me tonight when I get off the bus at the natural history museum.’’

Quiet on the line. I listened to background noise, hearing traffic.

‘‘But I won’t be there. I don’t need to put any money under the seat on a bus. The money has already been delivered.’’

Jesse and Marc watched me. Their faces were tense and focused.

‘‘I paid the fifty thousand dollars to Toby Price an hour ago,’’ I said.

‘‘You gave Toby the money?’’

‘‘All of it.’’

He was quiet again. I forced a sick laugh from my throat.

‘‘Let me guess. Sinsa told you there wasn’t any money.’’

‘‘I know there wasn’t any money.’’

‘‘You idiot. Of course there was money.’’

‘‘Then where was it?’’

‘‘In the safe at the law firm, Sanchez Marks. I got it out tonight.’’

‘‘You’re lying.’’

‘‘They grabbed Devi Goldman along with P.J. Don’t you know who she is? She’s the daughter of the firm’s chairman. Of course there was money to ransom her. They’re
lawyers
.’’

Hesitation. ‘‘I don’t get it.’’

‘‘I’m trying to tell you. Sinsa set us both up. P.J. and Devi are already home having a beer, and Toby’s getting ready to sail.’’

Hard breathing. ‘‘You’re full of shit.’’

‘‘Shaun, you’re into film. Doesn’t the phrase
femme fatale
ring any bells?’’

Did I hear him wiping his hand across his forehead?

‘‘She’s the femme, and you’re going to be the fatale. Think about it. She hasn’t done a bit of the dirty work. She’s set you up to take every fall. Brittany, Ricky, and now P.J. and me.’’

‘‘No.’’

‘‘So who’s on the surveillance tape closing down the fake checking account at Allied Pacific Bank—her, or you?’’

‘‘Stop—just stop. What the fuck are you saying?’’

‘‘That she’s going to split that fifty thousand with Toby. Meanwhile, you’re walking into a SWAT ambush at the natural history museum.’’

Outside a train whistle rose on the night, bellowing past up on the tracks, followed by the clack of the wheels. All right, time to light the second-stage booster.

‘‘But I don’t want them to have that fifty K. And if we get it back from Toby, nobody’s the wiser. It doesn’t have to go back into the safe at the law firm. You and I can split it.’’

Long, long quiet. ‘‘Why should I help you?’’

‘‘You get us on board, I bring the gun. The rest is ballistics.’’

He breathed noisily. ‘‘I don’t know.’’

Come on, Shaun, buy it. I was running out of bluffs. And then I heard, on Shaun’s end of the line, the same train whistle I had just heard. He was close. Real close.

He was coming here. Shit. The bastard, jumping the gun, trying to get me.

‘‘Forget it,’’ I said. ‘‘I’ll do it myself, and keep all fifty thousand bucks.’’

‘‘No, I never said that—’’

‘‘Call me back if you change your mind.’’

I hung up. ‘‘He’s coming. We’re getting out of here.’’

They looked at me. Jesse put his hand on the Glock.

‘‘Not yet,’’ I said. ‘‘He’s on the scent. We’re going to let him lead the hunt, like a hound dog.’’ I ran for the front door. ‘‘Marc, throw me your keys. Move it, men.’’

I floored Marc’s truck up the driveway and out into the road. In the rearview mirror I saw Jesse and Marc pull out in the Mustang. Jesse didn’t follow me but turned off the road and backed the Mustang into the bushes past his drive. He switched off the headlights. I turned the corner and saw a freight train racketing past the railroad crossing. The lights and bells were going and the gate was down. I pulled up and waited. If Shaun was on the other side, I was going to have to do this fast. I hoped to hell he didn’t have a gun.

The caboose clacked past. For a few seconds the bells and lights kept going. Across the tracks, beyond the other gate, I saw a single bright headlight.

Shaun was riding P.J.’s Suzuki.

The gate swung up. I put down the window. Jamming it in first gear, I popped the clutch and bounced across the tracks. I stuck my arm out the window and flipped Shaun the bird.

I shouted, ‘‘Forget it, asshole. The money’s mine.’’

He wasn’t wearing a helmet. Even in the darkness I could see the shock on his pretty face. I hit the gas.

This truck had plenty of power but not what I wanted right then, acceleration. I upshifted, shot a glance at the mirror, and saw Shaun turning the bike around to follow me.

Fumbling with the headset mike for my phone, I called Jesse. ‘‘He’s on my tail. Driving P.J.’s bike.’’

‘‘We’re coming.’’

The pickup’s headlights swallowed the road. Trees streaked past. ‘‘I’ll be at the freeway on-ramp in about a minute.’’

‘‘We just crossed the tracks.’’

The trees thinned, and I passed the Miramar Hotel. The road curved. The freeway overpass was ahead, past a stop sign. Checking the mirror, I saw that I was out of sight of the bike. I turned off the headlights, braked, and swerved into a driveway. I shut off the engine. I could hear the bike coming up the road. I held my breath.

In the mirror I saw the bike race past behind me. Shaun stopped at the stop sign, turned onto the overpass, and cruised slowly across, as though looking over the railing to see which way I had gone. I lost sight of him. I stuck my head out the window, trying to hear the Suzuki.

Into the phone mike I said, ‘‘He didn’t follow me. But I can’t tell whether he got on the freeway north-bound, or stayed on San Ysidro heading toward the mountains.’’

I put the pickup in reverse and spun the wheels backing out of the driveway.

In my ear Jesse said, ‘‘Whoa.’’

I saw him streak past behind me. He cut the corner at the stop sign and gunned the car onto the freeway heading north.

‘‘Ninety percent sure he’s heading up the coast,’’ Jesse said. ‘‘But you take San Ysidro, just in case.’’ In the background Marc said something. ‘‘And Dupree says the truck goes faster if you drive forward.’’

I headed up San Ysidro Road in the night, past a grove of oaks, cruising toward the mountains, slowing to look up and down side streets. I saw no sign of Shaun.

In my ear Jesse said, ‘‘Got him.’’

I braked.

‘‘He’s heading north on One-oh-one, and there’s plenty of traffic to screen us. Now let’s see if he takes us to Toby.’’

I pulled a three-point turn and headed back to catch up with him. ‘‘Is it time to call Lily?’’

‘‘No.’’

We were ripping along. I was doing eighty, and it still took me ten miles to catch up with Jesse. By then we were heading through Goleta. Shaun streaked up the freeway. We shadowed him, hiding in traffic, taking turns getting behind him so he wouldn’t become suspicious. We rolled through the commercial flare of the town, and on past long miles of suburbia that gradually thinned into countryside. The highway began to snake over hills and gullies, past canyons thick with eucalyptus, through the big ranches where prize cattle grazed the hills and the scent of lemon flowed from the orchards. Wind buffeted the truck. Traffic dribbled to a minimum.