Web of Smoke (28 page)

“I know it sounds hard to believe, but I swear it’s the truth. The babies always came from Mexico. Not Tijuana or Ensenada, but farther south and never from the same town. We didn’t hear their news. There was no way for me to make the connection. Beth always had the mother’s paperwork in order…. How was I to know?”

“Then why did you stop? I’m assuming she never got caught.”

“That’s right. Maybe she wouldn’t have stopped. I know this won’t mean much to you, but Beth thought she was doing those children a favor. Her clients were very wealthy and the babies came from impoverished families—”

“More bullshit. She stole babies from their mothers. Don’t try and ice it with anything. Answer my question, why did she stop?”

Pfeiffer sighed, his eyes becoming bright with unshed tears. He rubbed them and sniffled. Sam clenched his teeth, the pain shooting through his jaw distracting him from his angry desire to box Pfeiffer’s ears.

At last, the lawyer began to speak. “One time DC decided not to go to Mexico. He found a homeless mother and her child living on the streets here in town. He snatched the baby and murdered the mother. We’d already handled the adoption by the time the body was found and the story hit the papers. An autopsy showed the woman to have delivered shortly before her murder. A massive search went out for the baby.”

“Jesus, I remember reading about that.”

“Beth was furious. She sent DC away and told him never to come back. I was there. It was not a good scene.”

“They never caught her? How did she get away with that?”

“She was never a suspect.”

“Jesus. Wait a minute—why was DC helping her in the first place?”

“Who knows? I always thought he was trying to…win her over? Prove himself to her?”

“Still bullshit.”

“Maybe he did it for the money, too.”

“So what’s he doing back now?”

“DC will always come back.”

“Where do Mary Jane and Christie fit in all this?”

“After DC left—the first time—Beth went legitimate. Things settled down. We both started making money off her legal transactions at the clinic. We have years and years of honest work making families, McCoy. Something good. Something to be proud of—”

“Something to make you forget all the families you ripped apart.”

He went on as if Sam hadn’t spoken. “Business became so profitable that Beth hired Mary Jane. But then, DC came back again. We told him things were straight now. He went on the rampage, accusing Beth of using him the first time—”

“Which was true.”

“Yes. He threatened to tell everything if she tried to send him away again. So she offered him a job.”

“As custodian?”

“She hoped he’d throw her offer in her face and leave. But he took it.”

“And started working on Mary Jane.”

“Yes.”

“And then he did it again.”

“Yes. This time the murdered girl was only fourteen and the baby only a few days old. He’d followed them home from the hospital and broke in while she was alone with the baby.”

“I read about that, too.”

“They didn’t find the mother’s body for months. DC had plenty of time to convince Mary Jane that he was helping a young girl in trouble and use her to get the paperwork through me.”

“The McClowsky’s baby.”

“That’s right.”

“Did McClowsky know?”

“Only after.”

“Why didn’t he turn DC in?”

“And risk losing the baby? He and his wife had been trying for years to get a child and the baby’s natural mother was already dead. He made the only choice possible for him. He paid.”

“You know this story well.”

“Yeah. I just talked to Dr. McClowsky tonight. You and Christie shook him up pretty good with your visit today.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing much. Just that if he went down, I’d go with him.”

“Is that why you’re spilling your guts?”

Pfeiffer shook his head, draining his glass again. He gave the decanters a longing glance before he began to speak. Sam watched him with narrowed eyes.

“I know you won’t believe this, but I never intended for things to go so far. I kept telling myself that one day I’d come clean.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“I just don’t want to see your wife end up like her mother did.”

Sam stilled, feeling his breath catch in his sore chest. “What do you mean?”

“Mary Jane died in her car, but it wasn’t an accident. It was murder.”

“Jesus,” Sam whispered. “I knew it. Was it DC?”

“No, it was Beth.”

“Beth?”

“When they found the body of the young mother that DC murdered, Mary Jane put the pieces together. She planned to go to the police, but first she went to see Beth.”

“Mary Jane knew about Beth’s underground business?”

“No, she went to confess. She thought Beth would be ruined when the truth came out. Mary Jane felt she had to tell her in person.”

“And Beth killed her for it.”

Pfeiffer nodded. “Beth came to me afterward, crying and insisting it was an accident. Said she meant to flag Mary Jane down, not run her off the road.”

“You didn’t believe her?”

“Beth doesn’t make mistakes. In fact, DC is the only one I can think of. If Mary Jane ended up dead, it was because Beth wanted her that way. End of story.”

He looked up, his eyes full of emotion. He seemed to be asking Sam for forgiveness. But forgiveness wasn’t Sam’s to give even if he’d been inclined. Which he wasn’t.

“I’m just relieved it’s all finally over,” Pfeiffer said.

“Not over, Pfeiffer. Just beginning. You’re going to help me find Christie.”

“I don’t know where she is, I told you that.”

“What about Jessica? Why did he take her? Is he planning to sell her? Has he contacted you?”

Pfeiffer shook his head, giving his face another vigorous rub. “Beth called me,” he said. “Earlier this week. She told me what DC had done and warned me not to help him. As if I would.”

“You with your high standards? Or course not.”

“She told me he had some big plans, but she didn’t know what they were.”

“Any guesses?” Sam asked, glancing at his watch again.

“Not until tonight, when I talked to Dr. McClowsky. He told me his office had been vandalized around the same time DC came back. His files were stolen.”

“So?”

“Jessica Jordan was a patient of Dr. McClowsky’s. Her records were among those missing.”

The files they’d found in that gym locker had to be McClowsky’s. Sam stared at his own bloody reflection in the window, sorting through the facts, searching for the missing piece that would make it all make sense.

Sam shook his head, confusion adding its own special agony to the pounding in his head. “I don’t get it. What did he want with the files?”

Pfeiffer dropped his face into his hands.

“Why did he want the files?” Sam demanded.

“He means to sell Jessica, all right. Piece by piece.”

“What?”

Pfeiffer rushed to explain. “Do you remember hearing about the little boy who needed a heart transplant? Do you remember the battle launched when his parents tried to buy a heart from a family with a brain-dead child on life support?”

“Yeah, the parents offered half a million dollars to the family if they’d pull the plug and donate the heart.”

“DC was very interested in the case. I think when he left here four months ago, he had already made contacts to sell organs.”

“That’s insane. How would he do that?”

“It wouldn’t be that difficult to handle the administrative side of it. All he had to do is find someone within the system to forge the paperwork once he presented the donor. I don’t know the procedures, but it could be done.”

“You’re telling me he kidnapped that little girl to hack her up and sell her like a scrapped car?”

“If there’s a market to buy, there are men like DC looking to sell.”

“But who would buy black market parts?”

Pfeiffer gave him a level look. “If I’ve learned anything in this business, Sam McCoy, it is to never underestimate what someone will do to—or for—a child.”

The phone rang, jerking both men from the sudden thick silence that fell between them. Sam followed Pfeiffer into the kitchen, glaring at the lawyer as he sputtered into the phone.

Sam couldn’t control the fear that quaked through him as he replayed Pfeiffer’s words in his mind. What if DC had the same plans for Christie as he did for Jessica? Jesus, he had to find her soon.

Pfeiffer looked up at Sam, mouthing, “It’s Beth.”

The attorney’s end of the conversation consisted of monosyllables. Sam listened while he stared at the clock with a feeling of panic in his gut.

How long had he been at Pfeiffer’s? Fifteen? Twenty minutes? It was time for Sam to get moving, but to where? For all he’d learned, he was still no closer to finding Christie.

Pfeiffer hung up the phone, looking pale and shaken. “DC is using Beth’s rental,” he said. “I’ve got the address.”

Sam snatched the scrap of paper from Pfeiffer’s hand and started for the door.

“How’d you find this out?” Sam asked as he stepped outside.

“She’s on her way over. She wants me to go with her and assist in murdering DC.”

“What are you going to do when she gets here?”

“Be gone. I’m almost finished packing. I won’t be sticking around for the trials. Good luck, Sam McCoy.”

Chapter Thirty

Beth hung up the phone and stared at it for a long, quiet moment. It seemed she’d come full circle, back to the place she’d begun. Now she only waited for the appropriate ending to the pathetic cycle of her life. She looked up, catching sight of herself in the mirror. In reflection, she looked younger, as if she’d slipped back to yesterday instead of stepping forward to tomorrow.

Hadn’t she always sensed that she would end here, squared off against DC, while staring into her own image with disgust? What did it matter? She’d already lost her freedom, her husband . . . her son.

What a good laugh fate must be having. She’d abandoned a son she detested and, because of him, she would lose the son she loved. James would hate her when he found out what she’d done . . . what she’d paid for his life.

Dragging a chair from the lighted vanity table, she went to the closet. It only took her a few minutes to find what she was looking for. In a shoe box, in the back.

Her palm cupped the small pistol, her fingers caressing as they slipped around the grip to test the trigger. Years ago, when she’d bought the gun, she’d done so for protection. And now she would use it for that very purpose, to protect herself from DC and the destruction he brought with him. She grabbed extra bullets from the shoe box and loaded the gun.

Slipping it into her purse, she went downstairs. She passed James without noticing him.

“What’s with you?” he demanded.

She stopped short, wincing at the resentment burning in his eyes. For a moment she thought he must have discovered her treachery, but then she realized that wasn’t possible. Not yet.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

She shook her head, wondering when James had last spoken to her in a civil tone.

“I’m going out.”

“Is Dad going with you?” he asked.

“Dad is still at work.”

“You’re going out alone?”

A note of uncertainty cracked his voice. She saw the insecure boy behind the belligerent adolescent for just one second.

“James?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“What?”

She reached out to touch him but he jerked away, leaving her fingers dangling in the space between them. “Do you know I love you?”

He frowned, not liking the turn in conversation. “Yeah, sure.”

“And you know I would never do anything to hurt you?”

“I guess. What are you getting at, Mom?”

She sighed, smiling sadly. “Nothing. I just want you to know that. I love you. I always have.”

“Yeah, right. Got it.”

“Do you know that when you were a baby, I used to go into your room and wake you up just so I could care for you?”

“So? What do you want me to say? Thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks, I guess?” she repeated, shaking her head. “Maybe it was selfish of me.”

“Mom? Are you okay?”

She kept her smile steady. “Yes, honey. Mommy’s fine. But just promise to remember what I said. Okay?”

He turned his palms up to her, shaking his head. “Sure. Okay. You love me.”

“More than anything in the world.”

She waited for him to repeat it.

“More than anything in the world.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Now I’d better go before I’m late.”

“Late for what, Mom?”

She let the door close on his question and hurried to her car. She drove to Leonard’s on autopilot, finding herself at his door with no memory of the ride.

She’d always come to Leonard when she needed help. He’d always been there for her. But she knew he couldn’t solve her problem. Not this time.

She’d come full circle and there was no way out. Full circle.

She used her own key to unlock Leonard’s door and opened it quietly, dropping her purse on the sofa. She could hear his movements from the bedroom and followed them. As she drew even with the bar, she noticed the glasses. Two of them.

She felt the chill of betrayal grip her heart. Who had been drinking with Leonard? Cautiously, she continued down the hall.

A suitcase, opened and full, sprawled over the unmade bed. Leonard stood with his back to her, yanking his clothes from the dresser drawers and tossing them into a giant trash bag behind him. He’d worked up a sweat and his T-shirt clung to his back.

“Going somewhere, Leonard?” she asked softly.

He jumped, spinning around to face her with a look full of guilt.

“Beth! You scared me.”

She wandered in, clearing a space on the bed to sit. “Am I so terrifying?” she said.

“No, no. I mean, not at all.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where are you going? You seem to be in some hurry to get there, wherever it is.”

He mopped at the sweat on his face with a handful of clothes. “I thought it might be for the best if I left town after tonight.”