A Killing Rain (17 page)

“What are you talking about?”

“They want me, right? They shot at me once,” he said, pointing to his chest. “I’ll give them the chance again. Then maybe when they kill me, they’ll give Ben back.”

Susan stared at him.

“Is that what you want? You want me dead? Will that make you happy?” Austin yelled.

“I just want my son back.”

Joe flicked off the speaker and the voices were gone. She came up behind Louis.

“I want to go in and ask him a few questions. Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee or
something.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Enough coffee or bullshit?” Joe asked.

Louis didn’t answer. He was watching Susan and Austin, their voices muted now, but the hatred was enough to fog the glass.

A uniform came toward them down the hall. He handed Louis a folded piece of paper. Louis opened it, Joe reading over his shoulder.

Sir: I have received four phone calls in the last two hours. Once, they asked for Austin. The other 3 times they just hung up. I think someone should be here to take the next call. -- Officer A. Jewell

“You’ve got to get back,” Joe said.

Louis nodded, sticking the note into his pocket

“Take Susan with you,” Joe said. “She’s had enough, too.”

Louis looked back through the glass. Susan was sitting, elbows on table, head in hands. Austin was standing there, head bowed. Both of them looked spent and trapped.

“I’ll stay here and question him,” Joe said.

“No,” Louis said, watching Austin. “Let’s take him back with us.”

Joe didn’t
say a thing but Louis knew she was thinking the same thing he was. That they probably had a better chance of getting information out of Austin back at Susan’s, and that her house, out on that island and surrounded by cops from three jurisdictions, was probably safer than the damn Sereno Key jail at this point.

But if Austin was in fact the target they were risking his life
in the transport.

He looked in
to Joe’s steady gray eyes and saw a part of himself reflected back, the part that didn’t play by all the rules when something had to get done.

Joe gave a small nod and opened the door. Susan looked up as they came in.

“Susan, we have to get back to your house,” Joe said. “They’ve made contact.”

Susan was out of the chair and through the door without even looking at Austin. Joe gave Louis a look and followed Susan.

Austin was slumped against the wall, arms folded over the Gatorland T-shirt. Louis could see a vein twitching in his forehead.

“Come on,” Louis said.

Austin looked up. “Where?”

“Back to Susan’s,” Louis said. “We’re granting your wish. You're going to get a chance to play hero.”

Austin sat at the far end of the kitchen table. He had discarded the
Gatorland T-shirt for a knit shirt and khaki pants that one of the Sereno Key officers had purchased for him at Kmart. It had taken Austin’s last few dollars. Louis had watched with a small stab of satisfaction as Wainwright took the slender black alligator wallet from Austin’s hand, dug inside and handed the bills to the waiting officer.

The cheap shirt was a garish pink and the khakis were too short
. All Austin’s other clothing had been confiscated as part of the evidence from the trunk of the BMW when it was pulled from the lake. The clothes sat in Austin’s soggy three-piece Vuitton luggage in the Sereno Key evidence room. Except for the butterscotch trench coat, scarf, and fedora, which hadn’t been moved from the coat rack near the door.

Louis focused on Austin’s fingers holding a glass of water. There was a f
aint rim of dirt under his nails. About the only thing left of the suave Austin Outlaw now was the Rolex.

Louis glanced up at the wall clock. It was near six. The killers had not called back.

The hours had dragged by in a gnawing silence as they all tried to stay out of each other’s way. It was useless. The house was too small. The rain was too relentless. The cops’ hovering presence too oppressive. Wainwright and his men in the living room. Seven cruisers outside. And a block away, TV vans now.

Louis’s eyes drifted to the refrigerator. There was a drawing on it, something Ben had done. Dinosaurs
, but not the green monsters that most kids drew. These were carefully drawn replicas of a T-rex and a brontosaurus with a volcano simmering in the background.

Louis closed his eyes. It was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking. Not a normal quiet. The terrible quiet of a kid not being there.

The sound of water running made him open his eyes. Joe had come in and was at the sink, rinsing dishes. She caught his eye as she came over to gather up the mostly untouched cartons of Chinese takeout.

Louis looked across the table at Susan. She was picking at an orange, peeling away the rind with her fingernail. It reminded Louis of the way Mel
Landeta ate lemons. It reminded Louis that he needed to call him. He hadn’t spoken to him since Friday afternoon. Just forty-eight hours ago.

“It’s getting dark,” Austin said suddenly.

Susan’s fingers stopped for a second on the orange rind.

Austin looked at his Rolex then at Louis. “They aren’t calling. They’ve given up.”

“No, they haven’t.”

They all looked up at Joe.

“That’s what they’re waiting for —- dark.” She looked directly at Susan. “They’ll call.”

Austin let out an anxious breath and leaned back in the chair. The kitchen fell quiet again. Louis could hear Wainwright out in
the living room, his voice a low drone as he filled in one of the deputies just coming on shift.

Louis’
s gaze drifted back to Joe. He was thinking about how she managed to get Susan to talk about Austin in less than five minutes. He had known Susan for almost two years and had never known
how she felt about black suits, earrings, Easter, or anything else.

But he did understand now why Susan wasn’t willing to let Austin slip so easily back into Benjamin’s life.

The phone rang.

Susan jumped. Joe turned. Wainwright was at the kitchen door, signaling Louis to pick up the wall phone.

Louis grabbed it. “Yeah.”

“Austin Outlaw?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“This really Outlaw?”

“I said it was. Who is this?”

“What’s your kid’s middle name?”

Louis looked at Susan. “Why the hell do you want to know his middle name?”

“What the fuck is it?”

She was mouthing something but Louis didn’t catch it. “Who the hell is this?”

Susan grabbed a paper napkin, scribbled on it, and shoved it in front of him.

“Answer me, asshole.”

“Thomas. His middle name is Thomas.”

Another pause. The sound of a diesel engine. A truck. “Talk to me,” Louis said.

“That took too long.”

“Stop the games,” Louis said. “What do you want?”

“A hundred thousand dollars.”

“A hundred thousand dollars?” Louis repeated for the others.

“Yeah. Your kid not worth that much to you?”

“Of course he is,” Louis said. “Let me talk to him.”

A short laugh. “Sorry. He isn’t exactly available right now.”

“How do I know he’s alive?”

Another pause.

“You just
gotta have faith, my friend.”

“Faith in a man who kills for the fun of it?” Louis asked. The next pause was so long Louis thought maybe he had hung up. But he was still hearing traffic.

“Okay. When and where?” Louis asked.

“I’m going to call back
in thirty minutes. I want you to get one of those mobile phones and give me the number when I call back.”

“Where am I supposed to get a mobile phone in a half-hour?” Louis asked.

“Ask one of those cops standing there. I bet they got one.” Louis looked up at Wainwright, who gave him a small nod.

“Okay, what happens after I get this phone?”

“You, the phone, and the money are going for a drive. I’ll call you along the way and give you directions.”

“Look, I need some guarantees here.”

“The kid’s alive and will stay alive if you do what you’re told. That’s the only guarantee you’re going to get.”

“Wait a minute,” Louis said, still trying to buy time. “It’s Sunday. All my cash is tied up in the
business and the cops locked all that down as soon as you murdered my partner. I can’t raise that much in a few minutes.”

“Don’t lie to me again.”

The line went dead. Louis replaced the receiver.

Susan, Austin, and Joe waited quietly for a recap and Louis gave it to them, word
for word, as close he remembered it.

Wainwright spoke first. “I would’ve bet my career this wasn’t a kidnaping for ransom.”

Susan looked up at Wainwright. “Me, too, but now that it is, we can deal with it. If they want money, then Ben is still alive. We give them the money and they let him go.”

“Mrs. Outlaw,” Wainwright said
, “you’re a lawyer, you -- ”

Susan jumped up. “Yes, I know. I know the odds are against it
. But it’s something!”

“Wait a minute, guys,” Joe said. “We got other problems here. First, we got FBI issues.”

“No,” Susan said. “I don’t want them. I don’t want any more cops. We’ll just pay it.”

Austin’s gaze slipped to Susan and Wainwright. When he looked back, he found Louis staring at him. He looked away, bringing the glass of water up to his lips. When he took a drink, the water trickled down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Susan, Susan. Hold up, listen,” Joe said. “Do you even have that kind of money?” She motioned toward Austin. “Do either of you?”

Susan collapsed
in her chair. “We need time,” she said. “God, we need more time.”

Louis was still watching Austin. Someone had just offered to give him back his son for money and he was just sitting
there with nothing to say.

The killers knew Austin
had cash. Was it just because of the designer clothes, the Rolex, and the BMW? Or did they know something more? And if Austin had that much cash, where the hell was it?

Louis had seen Austin’s black alligator wallet earlier in the day. He had seen his luggage in the trunk of the BMW. What he hadn’t seen was that damn Vuitton purse Austin had at dinner that first night, the purse he had gone into to dig out that hundred dollar bill for Ben.

It had to be here in the house somewhere. Louis turned in his chair, his eyes sweeping over the house. They stopped on the closed door to Ben’s bedroom.

He was remembering what Susan
had told
Austin that first night: You can stay but you’ll sleep in Ben’s room.

Austin suddenly stood up. “Excuse me,” he said, starting to the back of the house. For a moment, Louis suspected he might actually be going to Ben’s room. But Austin went straight down the hall for the bathroom. Louis got up and followed
.

When Austin moved to close the bathroom door, Louis stuck his hand against it, shoving it back open. He slipped inside the small bathroom, closing the door.

“What the fuck?” Austin said.

Louis grabbed the collar of Austin’s shirt and slammed him up against the tile wall.

“You sorry sonofabitch,” Louis said. “Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

Louis clenched the shirt tighter. “The money these guys know you have.”

Austin swallowed hard, his breath quickening.

“Where is it?” Louis hissed.

Austin tried to struggle out of Louis’s grasp. Louis brought a fist up in front of his face. “Where is it, damn it?”

“All right, all right. It’s in Ben’s room. I hid it in an old backpack under his bed.”

Louis pulled him closer, wanting to slam him harder into the tile. Instead he slung him to the side. Austin tumbled into the
tub, grabbing at the shower curtain and pulling the rod and curtain down with him.

“Jesus, man,” Louis said. “How do you live with yourself?”

Austin looked up at him, his eyes teary. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand you don’t give a damn about your son.”

“He’s already dead!”

Louis drew back, but held his hand in the air, unable to hit him. He was pathetic. A sorry, pathetic coward.

Louis dropped his arm and jerked open the door. “Go get the money and give it to Susan. Now.”

Austin struggled to get up. He pulled at his shirt and tried to even out his
breathing, but it wasn’t working. Louis gave him a shove out the door.

He
watched from the hallway as Austin retrieved the backpack from under Ben’s bed. Austin emerged from the bedroom with the black purse and headed to the kitchen.

Louis turned and picked up the shower rod. It was spring loaded and would easily go back up. Thank God. He didn’t want to have to explain any of this to Susan. He stood on the toilet and started to wedge it back into place.

“How did you know?”

Louis turned to see Joe in the doorway. He went back to working the pole tight between the walls.

“He had a purse the first day I met him,” Louis said. “I haven’t seen it since. How much did he have?”

“He says
it’s a hundred grand less about six hundred. All one hundred dollar bills.”

Louis had the pole in place and jumped down. “Does she know I had to force him into it?”

“I don’t think she’s had time to figure it out.” Joe paused. “Helluva good call.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I know a weasel when I see one.”

“You speak from experience?” '

Louis looked at her. The light was bright in the bathroom, accentuating
the fine lines around her mouth. Her lipstick was faded, leaving only a thin red line around the edge of her lips. Under her right eye he could see a faint smudge of mascara that looked almost like a tear had caused it.

“Yeah, I do,” Louis said, turning to smooth the shower curtain back down into place.

“Father?”

Louis nodded.

“Is that why you hate Austin so much?”

“No,” Louis said. “Austin disgusts me because he’s a coward.”

Joe waited, and Louis knew she was allowing him to fill the silence like she always did when she was trying to get someone to open up. And he didn’t want to let her in. Not this far. Not this soon. But the words came anyway.

“He never went back,” Louis said. “He never went back to get Ben in the park. And what do you think that kid was thinking? How do you think he must have felt when no one came?”

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Joe’s hand started to come up, maybe to touch him, maybe not, he wasn’t sure. But she paused in midair then brought it to her head, raking back her hair. She glanced at the big watch dangling on her wrist.

“C’mon, Wainwright wants to talk to you.”

Louis followed Joe back to the kitchen. Before he even reached the kitchen door, he heard Susan’s voice, tight, angry.

“How can you even ask who’s going to deliver the money?” she said, her face in Austin’s. “You're delivering it!”

“Mrs. Outlaw,” Wainwright started. “I’m not sure we should deliver anything to these guys. This whole ransom thing could be a ruse just to lure your husband out there to kill him.”

“What if it isn’t? What if you’re wrong?”

“I can’t stop any of you from making this delivery,” Wainwright said. “But sending an untrained civilian out there is only going to get him or the boy killed.”