Weep In The Night (16 page)

“I always carry extra flash drives. I copied all the files, erased any trace of my actions, and continued about the day's work as usual.”

“I can't believe it. Little Debra Johnson, the plant expert, is really a cyber-spy. What was in code?”

“Aaron and I concluded Duke had two accounting systems. One auditors had access to, and the one I'd discovered. When we deciphered the code, we found transactions detailing major drug deals, arms shipments, pays and owes—“

“Pays and what?”

“Pays and owes. Records of money laundering.”

“I learned something new today. Please continue.”

“The worst information we found was details of his importation of underage girls from Latin America.” Sadie shuddered. “The whole operation still gives me the creeps.”

“All of this was conducted out of Brady Holdings? Who was running the show?”

“The Levasseur family. Duke was in charge, but his kids, Lonnie and Nicole, were involved.”

“What happened next?”

Sadie poked at a spot on her jeans. “We checked with an LAPD friend at church who worked for the OCID, the Organized Crime Investigation Division. He said they already had Brady Holdings on their radar. We gave the flash drives to them, and they asked that we stay in the company to gather more information. We delayed the completion of the project so we could tape conversations, take cell phone pictures, and gather more evidence. Because the crimes crossed state lines, the FBI got involved.”

“And that's how you ended up in WITSEC?”

A quick nod.

Bowen slowed as the traffic through Phoenix increased. “Duke's in prison, right? What happened to his kids?”

“Duke was sentenced to fifty years in prison, but there wasn't enough evidence to tie Lonnie and Nicole to the illegal activities at Brady Holdings. Lonnie's still in charge of the above board company—insurance and stock trading.”

“So you're in WITSEC because of Lonnie and Nicole?”

“Yes. Although they stayed out of the spotlight, I received numerous threats during the trial. I'm sure they came from Lonnie, but we couldn't prove it.”

The setting sun shone right into the vehicle. Bowen lowered the visor and sat a little straighter. “Can you fill in the details on what happened to Aaron and Hannah?”

Sadie nibbled a nail and then clasped her hands. “Aaron and I completed the job at Brady, we thought without Duke becoming suspicious, but afterward he kept calling our company office. He even called the house.”

“Did you report his harassment?”

“Of course. During the investigation, additional police patrols were sent to our neighborhood in Culver City. Aaron and I took extra precautions, but…”

Anger burned in his gut. No wonder she slumped in the seat. He hated to prod, but he needed the last chapter. “Tell me the rest, Sadie.”

She placed both hands over her heart as if to prevent its escape. “You already know bits and pieces, but I'll tell you the whole story. Hannah was four and a half, in a pre-school program close to the office. Aaron picked her up, and witnesses stated his vehicle was followed by a dark SUV. He called me and said he was being forced off the road, and that's the last time I spoke to him. His car smashed through the bridge railing and landed in the rain-swollen Santa Ana River.” Sadie shuddered and air rattled out of her lungs as she exhaled. “Dark blue paint transfer on scrapes and dents indicated he'd been rammed from behind…” Her voice faded. After a long pause, her dull, flat words barely reached his ears. “I was immediately given federal protection, but it was too late for my family.”

Bowen let the silence between them act as a balm.

“Did they ever find out who rammed Aaron's vehicle?”

She drew in a jagged breath as if she'd been sobbing. “No. But during the trial someone slipped an envelope under the door when I was in the ladies' restroom. It contained a blurred photograph of Hannah with a terrified expression, staring out of the window of Aaron's car.”

 

 

 

 

17

 

Bowen pulled up next to a pump and turned off the engine. The harsh lights of the gas station filled the cab with a sharp fluorescent glow. He glanced at Sadie as she stirred. She'd slept through their entry into California, and another border patrol stop.

She squinted and stretched. “Where are we?”

“This is Blythe—a few miles across the California border.” Bowen ran his fingers through his hair and then jammed the cap on his head. “Please wait for me, and then we'll enter the store together.”

“OK.” Her discarded sunglasses lay on the console. She placed them in her purse.

Bowen climbed out of the pickup and entered the convenience store to prepay. Rubbing his tight shoulders, he tromped to the pump and filled the gas tank. He returned to the store with Sadie. After using the facilities, they purchased barbeque sub-sandwiches, bottled water, and large cups of coffee, under the cold-eyed stare of the elderly clerk. Bowen kept his head down and trusted Sadie's disguise would thwart anyone searching the store's surveillance footage.

As they returned to the pickup, Sadie asked, “Want me to take over?”

“No. I'm fine. We'll be in L.A. in three or four hours.” Bowen opened the door for Sadie and held her cup while she buckled herself in.

He maneuvered back onto I-10. When he'd finished eating his sandwich, he crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it over the seat. “I appreciate you telling me your story. I'm sorry if it opened old wounds.”

“Being with Cal in L.A. again will probably sling me back to the past. It's inevitable.”

“You have no other family in L.A., right?”

“Cal is all I have. And Hannah, if she's…” Her voice trailed off.

“It'll be close to midnight when we reach the safe house. We—”

“What safe house? Aren't we going straight to Cal?”

“You said you trusted me, so this is the plan, and you have to promise to follow it. OK?” Sadie would not end up like Patricia.

“Promise.”

“Once in L.A., I'll take you to a safe house. In the morning, we'll contact Cal and arrange to meet in a secure location. After I check out the story of the Adams woman, I'll figure out how to get you to see Hannah.”

“Why all the secrecy with Caleb?”

Bowen glanced at her. In the muted light from the instrument panel he noted the tight line of her lips and the furrow between her eyes. “Please listen with your head and not your heart. I have no idea what you're going through, but be patient a few more days. We have to make sure no one knows you're in California.” For a moment his role as protector and friend blurred. He funneled his thoughts back on the job. Keep Sadie safe. “By now people at work have realized something's wrong. And who knows what your neighbor Pete will do? We have to take all precautions.”

“And Hannah? When can I see her?”

“Depends on what my contacts have discovered about Ms. Adams. We have to be positive about identification. Maybe tomorrow.”

Yanking off the wig, she threw it on the floor. She shook her head, freeing her curls. Deep groans erupted and she pounded her knees.

“Sadie, I'm sorry.” He had no words of comfort. An intense desire to hold her and press his lips against hers hit him broadside. Gripping the wheel with one hand, he slid the other over her shoulders. “You've got to be strong a while longer.”

Sadie took the discarded wig and straightened it on her head. She scrunched up in the corner, her misery evident.

Bowen punched a radio button, selecting a pop-rock station. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat.

“Please turn it down. I want to talk to you.”

He turned off the radio. “Sure. What's on your mind?”
Stupid question.
“I mean—“

“You don't have to walk on tiptoe around me. I'm so used to being independent, but I need your advice.”

“How can I help?”

Her head was bowed, and she twisted her hands in her lap. “It's about Griff. I feel responsible for his death somehow. When he used the code word, I should have…” Her voice cracked.

“What could you have done? The news report indicated he was shot soon after receiving a call, which we assume came from you.” Bowen took her hand. “He knew the risks his job involved. He gave you a warning, and you heeded it.”

A heavy-duty sigh whooshed from her lips. “I know, I know.” She pulled her hand away and brushed the hair from her face. “And now, do I contact WITSEC in Los Angeles? I don't know what to do. I can't think straight.”

“That's why I'm here. My job is to deliver you safely to Cal. Once we meet him and you're certain the girl is Hannah, then you can contact WITSEC. You need to tell them Kyle Nelson came after you. Maybe they'll find a connection between Kyle and Griff's murder.”

“No.” Sadie screwed up her face. “Kyle was weird and he—but murder?”

“I asked about him before, but is there anything else you remember?”

“Kyle couldn't have killed Griff. He was trussed up in my apartment when I made the call.”

“You're right. But maybe he had an accomplice?”

“Let me think back. I first visited Hillcrest Church in July last year. Hannah's birthday. I'll never forget.” Her soft words floated in the air before she cleared her throat. “I can't remember if Kyle was already attending, but my first encounter with him was several months later.”

“How'd you meet?”

“He's a journalist working on a book. Something to do with cultural traditions. He took pictures all the time. I avoided him when he had his camera. But one day he cornered me after the church service and asked a bunch of questions. I think it was around Christmas because I remember holiday decorations on the door.”

“What kind of questions?”

“You know, the usual. Kinda like the ones you asked. But I guess because he professed to be a Christian, they didn't bother me as much.”

“Was he persistent? Did he try to befriend you?”

“You mean like you did?”

The tone of those words wounded him. Bowen rubbed his chin and muttered, “I deserved that. I'm sorry.”

“Forget it.” She was silent for a few minutes. “I remember something else. A woman came with him recently. Kyle introduced her as his sister Lavonne.” Sadie tented her fingers. “And you know what else, she—Lavonne—came into work a few times. She didn't speak to me, but I knew she watched me as she examined the plants.”

The car ahead swerved, forcing Bowen's full attention back to the road. Wooden planks lay scattered across his lane and the road shoulder. He avoided the debris and checked his mirrors.

Red and blue lights flashed.

Bowen sucked in a breath.

 

 

 

 

18

 

“License and registration.”

While Bowen complied with the state trooper's request, Sadie crossed her arms and hung her head. They'd made it safely to the outskirts of L.A. Would her flight end here, a few miles from Cal and Hannah?

The trooper examined Bowen's documents by flashlight. “Mr. Boudine, where you traveling to?”

“San Francisco. We're on vacation.”

Sadie understood why Bowen lied, but it still disturbed her. Taking her cue from him, she relaxed against the seat while her gut churned.

“Your driving was a bit erratic back there, Mr. Boudine.”

“I swerved to avoid debris in the road, sir.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“None, sir. Nothing. I don't drink.”

“Would you step out of the car, please?”

Sadie observed the trooper conduct a sobriety test on Bowen, nibbling on a nail the whole time.

Ten minutes later, Bowen returned to the truck, a ticket in his hand. “A warning for not signaling. Can you believe that?”

By the time he took the Highway 710 ramp, Sadie's heart had settled into a normal rhythm again. Her numb brain could barely string two words together.

After making a brief phone call, Bowen pulled into the driveway of a ‘50s style bungalow, replete with tidy lawn, two palm trees, and a black wrought iron fence.

As soon as Bowen switched off the engine, a lanky bald-headed man stepped from the shadows on the front porch. Highlighted by the streetlight, his sharp nose, prominent brow, and hollow cheeks reminded Sadie of a hawk.

Bowen gestured towards the house. “This is it, Sadie. Go inside, and we'll bring your things.”

Hawk Man opened the passenger door and offered Sadie his hand, which she gladly took. Fatigue and anxiety had turned her leg muscles to mush. She staggered across the lawn to the small porch. Its three steps looked ten feet high. Joints complained as she climbed up and entered the house, Bowen's voice humming behind her.

A tall table lamp shed a soft yellow glow over the sparsely furnished living room. An old black and white movie played on a small TV set. Sadie dumped her purse on the blue plaid sofa and flexed her shoulders.

The men carried in the luggage, which they placed in the middle of the room next to a stained coffee table.

Hawk Man held out his hand to Bowen. “Give me your keys. I'll close the gate, and then move your truck.”

Sadie couldn't place his heavy accent.

Bowen dropped the keys into the man's hand. “This way.” He picked up her suitcase and pointed down the hall. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“No, thanks.”

Three doors led off the narrow space. Bowen stopped at the last one. “Here's your room.” He set her suitcase and shopping bag on a straight-backed wooden chair. Deep lines etched the skin around his eyes and dark stubble covered his chin. His smile softened his features. “Sadie, I've got to repeat. Your life is in our hands—mine and Erik's. You must listen to us.”