Blown Away (10 page)

Mike shoved his hands in his pockets, then turned and walked off the veranda and out into the yard.

Chicago P.D. was in an uproar. A bomb threat had been called in to the courthouse right in the middle of a trial. The fact that the defendant was a known member of a Japanese crime organization probably had everything to do with the threat. That the threat was valid had yet to be proven. All they knew was that clearing the courthouse in a timely fashion and getting the bomb squad inside were the first two orders of business.

Off-duty officers and detectives from every division were called to the scene to help with evacuation and crowd control, which was why Detective Sandy Smith wasn’t at her desk when the call from the law firm of Meacham and Ball finally came. The receptionist who took the call simply wrote down the
message and left it with a half dozen others for Missing Persons.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Sandy Smith got back to her desk, and even longer before she shuffled through the stack of messages to find the one from the law office.

“Damn,” she muttered, and picked up the phone to return the call.

“Meacham and Ball,” the receptionist answered.

“Detective Smith returning Paul Meacham’s call from yesterday.”

“One moment, please,” the receptionist said.

The call was answered a second time, this time by Meacham’s private secretary, and once again Sandy had to explain herself and the call. Yet again she was put on hold, but this time not for long.

“Detective Smith. Paul Meacham here.”

Sandy had the open file on Austin Ball’s disappearance in front of her and picked up a pen to make notes.

“Thank you for getting back to me, Mr. Meacham. I won’t take up much of your time, but Austin Ball’s wife, Marcey, has turned in a missing person’s report on her husband. I don’t suppose you’ve had any recent contact with him, have you?”

“No. We haven’t. And I must tell you that we’re all terribly concerned. This isn’t like Austin.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sandy said. “If you would bear with me for a few minutes, I have some questions.”

“Anything I can do to help,” Paul said.

“I understand Austin Ball was on business for the firm when he flew to Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Could you please tell me who the client was?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The client. Whoever Austin was representing.”

“I’m sorry. We’re very careful with attorney-client privilege here.”

“It wouldn’t be breaking that privilege to tell me who the client was.”

There was a moment of silence, then she heard a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. Still, you understand that this isn’t information we would want bandied about.”

“No bandying. Just answer the question, please.”

“Dominic Martinelli.”

Sandy straightened. Aha! No wonder they wanted this kept quiet.

“Could you elaborate? Anything you could tell me that would help us locate Mr. Ball? I know you’re as concerned as Marcey is. I mean…she’s expecting their first child. She’s afraid she’s going to be a widow before she’s a mother.”

It was the baby angle that got him. “I don’t know details, but I do know that Austin had filed foreclosure papers on behalf of Mr. Martinelli. I believe that would be public record.”

Sandy grinned. “Yes, sir. You’re right. I know I could
look it up, but I’d like to get Marcey some answers as soon as possible. Would you happen to remember the name of the person Martinelli was foreclosing on?”

“I don’t remember, but I can get that for you. Please hold.”

This time she didn’t mind being put on hold. And again, it wasn’t for long.

“Detective?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Sandy said.

“Lance Morgan, of Bordelaise, Louisiana, had defaulted on a quarter-million-dollar loan. He was six months in arrears when the papers were filed, and Austin’s reason for flying to Bordelaise was to present foreclosure papers to Morgan on Mr. Martinelli’s behalf.”

Sandy was writing furiously as Meacham talked.

“That’s really all I know, Detective, other than the fact that he rented a car from Hertz. He picked it up in Baton Rouge, but no one seems to know anything after that. Oh…we do know that the car was never returned. And, to my knowledge, hasn’t been found abandoned or anything like that.”

Sandy dotted her last
i
and crossed her last
t
and leaned back. “This is very helpful, Mr. Meacham. Thank you.”

“Yes, well…please keep us informed,” he said. “We think the world of Austin and hope there is some logical explanation for all this.”

“Definitely,” Sandy said and disconnected. She was
even more convinced that something had happened to Austin Ball. Anyone doing business with Martinelli automatically put themselves in a precarious situation.

Next order of business would be to contact the authorities in Bordelaise and see if they had any information on the missing man. She called information, got the number, then settled in for the call.

Vera Samuels’s job as day dispatcher in Bordelaise had always been busy, often hectic. But never had the parish P.D. been as hassled as they had been since the tornado. There was the ongoing investigation into Bobby Earle’s disappearance from the church where he and his mother had gone for services, and the four prisoners who’d disappeared from the jail after the tornado had hit it. Some thought all five of them were dead and it was just a matter of finally finding the bodies, but Chief Porter wasn’t one of them. There were too many clues pointing to the child having been abducted out on the church playground before the tornado ever hit. As for the missing prisoners, he was on the fence.

And then there were the funerals. They’d already buried old Mr. Warren from the nursing home, and the North family funerals were tomorrow. She was heartsick and worn-out as she answered the phone.

“Bordelaise Police Department.”

“Detective Sandy Smith, here. Chicago P.D. May I speak to your chief, please?”

“I’m sorry, Detective Smith, but he’s not in at
the moment. If you’ll leave your number, I’ll have him call you.”

Sandy stifled a sigh. She hated playing phone tag. “Yeah, sure,” she said, and rattled off the number and extension, then added, “Mind if I ask you something? I—”

Vera eyed the cruiser pulling up outside. When she realized it was the chief, she interrupted.

“Detective Smith, I believe Chief Porter just drove up. If you don’t mind waiting, you can talk to him right now.”

“That would be great,” Sandy said. “I’ll hold.”

Vera got up from the desk and went to the door, anxious to catch the chief before he was diverted by someone outside.

“Chief? There’s a call for you on line one. Some detective from the Chicago Police Department.”

Hershel Porter frowned. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone from Chicago. I got my own set of problems down here. I don’t need any of theirs.”

“Sorry,” Vera said. “She’s on hold.”

“She?”

Vera grinned. “Oh. Didn’t I tell you? It’s a female detective.”

Hershel strode past Vera and into his office.

She watched him pick up on line one and was about to do a little eavesdropping when the phone began ringing again.

“Drat,” she muttered, and picked up the call while the chief dealt with his.

“Chief Porter speaking.”

Sandy Smith shifted into gear. “Detective Sandy Smith, Chicago P.D.”

“What can I do for you, Detective?” Hershel asked.

“I’m working a missing person’s case and have reason to believe my guy was last seen heading in your direction.”

Hershel sighed. “We got ourselves a whole lot of missing people down here right now,” he said.

Sandy frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“We got hit by a tornado a few days back. Four dead…so far. A kid and four prisoners still missing.”

“Oh my God,” Sandy muttered, as her thoughts began to shift into a whole other scenario. This could explain what happened to Austin Ball. “Sorry to hear that,” she added.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hershel said. “So tell me about your case.”

“Got a lawyer named Austin Ball who caught a flight out of Chicago last Sunday.”

“That would be the day the tornado hit,” Hershel said.

Sandy frowned. “Damn.” Then she scanned her notes before asking, “Do you know a man named Lance Morgan?”

“Why yes. Youngest son of a fine old family. Known him all his life.”

“Well, the son of that fine family owes almost a quarter of a million dollars to a loan shark here in Chicago. He’s six months in arrears and has defaulted on the loan. The loan shark filed foreclosure papers, and my missing person was sent to Bordelaise to present them to Mr. Morgan.”

“The hell you say,” Hershel said. “Are you sure? The Morgans are what we down here call well-heeled.”

“Obviously not anymore, or he would have paid back the money. We know that Ball landed in Baton Rouge and picked up a rental car. Then…nothing. It’s as if he dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Maybe he just walked away from a stressful job or something.”

“We don’t think so. He was six weeks away from becoming a father for the first time. Crazy about his wife. No financial problems.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” Hershel said. “Real sorry to tell you we haven’t come across any unidentified bodies or unaccounted for cars. However, if you’ll fax me your particulars, I’ll have my deputies be on the lookout.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Sandy said. “What’s your fax number?” she asked, then wrote it down. “I’ll be in touch,” she added.

Hershel frowned as he hung up the phone. Just what they needed—another missing person.

N
ow that the day of the funeral had finally dawned, Cari was experiencing a new wave of panic. She’d downed a piece of toast and some hot tea just because of Mike’s and Songee’s concern, but she felt as if her meal could come up at any moment.

It didn’t seem possible that the two people who’d given her life were about to spend eternity in matching caskets in the family mausoleum at the Bordelaise Cemetery. And Susan, who’d spent half her life stressing about how she looked, was being buried without a viewing due to the horrific damage to her face. There was a huge part of Cari’s consciousness that had yet to fully grasp the enormity of what forever meant. She kept trying to convince herself that they weren’t so much dead as just gone, and that she would see them again one day in the heaven she believed existed. And while the true scope of their absence had yet to sink in, she knew after today, all that would change.

Over an hour had passed since she’d gone to her room to dress, and she was still fiddling with the details of her appearance. She had dressed with the precision of a toreador readying for the moment when he would come face-to-face with his nemesis, putting on one garment at a time, then pausing to study the look, making sure it would coordinate with her plan of deception.

While the bullfighter’s nemesis was El Toro, Cari’s nemesis was, in theory, the entire town of Bordelaise, but most especially Lance Morgan. She had to make sure that when they first saw her, they were only seeing her resemblance to Cari North and nothing more.

Finally she was finished, confident that she’d done all she could to hide her identity. Besides her new short, tousled hairstyle, so unlike the one Carolina North always wore, she had a narrow bandage across one cheek and a smaller one on the opposite side of her chin. She’d used a tiny butterfly bandage at the beginning of one eyebrow and was wearing a sling on her right arm.

Susan had worn makeup, but sparingly, and never in the same shades as Cari. Conscious of her need to stay in character, Cari had used only a little rose-colored lip gloss, which seemed a good choice in deference to all the bandages supposedly covering healing wounds.

The black dress that Mike had picked out for her
clung to her curves, but the neutral color took away any hint of impropriety. She had the new bag under her arm, the oversize sunglasses inside, and was carrying the jet cameo necklace he’d given her. With one last glance at her disguise, she headed for the door. If the day and the reason hadn’t been so sad, she could almost have convinced herself she was going to a costume party.

She was on her way down the hall when she heard a door open behind her. She turned just as Mike came out of his bedroom and, for a moment, was stunned by his appearance. The black suit he was wearing made him look taller than ever, and the pristine white of his shirt highlighted the slight olive cast of his skin. She watched his expression change as he came closer, and for a moment she wondered what had sparked the sudden glitter in his eyes.

Mike was nervous about today. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach, not only because he was going to Susan’s funeral, but also because he was abetting Cari in a serious deception.

He wasn’t so sure she was going to be able to pull it off, but he understood her need to try. It was the last thing she could do for her family, and he knew from his own experience that it was a natural step in the process of healing. There was also a part of him that wanted to see Lance Morgan face-to-face. Without identifying all the reasons why, he needed
to know who was threatening Carolina North’s safety. He wasn’t ready to admit that he might be falling for her, and she had too many demons to face to be dealing with anything else.

As he walked out of his bedroom suite, he saw her just ahead of him. He was about to call out her name when she paused and turned around, and he was struck once again by how much he was attracted to her.

“Oh good, there you are. I need help with this necklace,” Cari said.

“Sure thing,” Mike said, then waited as Cari turned her back to him. He put the necklace over her head, then got sidetracked by the delicate curve of her neck and missed the clasp. “Drat,” he muttered. “Sorry. Here we go again.”

Cari felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and suddenly shivered. She had the strangest urge to turn, walk into his arms and never let go.

Unaware of Cari’s wayward thoughts, Mike managed to fasten the necklace. “There we are,” he said, then added, “I don’t know if it’s the proper thing to say on such a sad day, but you look beautiful.”

Cari’s heart skipped. “My father always said, ‘You can never compliment a woman too much,’ so…thank you.”

Mike cupped the side of her cheek with one hand, then traced the curve with his thumb. “I’m sorry I never met your parents. Susan talked about them…and you…often.”

“After her mother and dad passed away, we were all the family she had left,” Cari said, then her chin quivered. “I was an only child, as was she. We always swore we’d have bunches of kids so they could grow up together.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mike said. Then, because he couldn’t bear the sadness in her eyes, he changed the subject. “Come on, tough stuff. We’d better get going.”

“Right,” she said, and headed for the stairs.

A few minutes later they were in the car and on their way to Bordelaise.

Hershel Porter was topping off his second cup of morning coffee when Vera came into his office.

“Chief, Toby Warren is in the outer office. Says he needs to talk to you.”

Hershel set down his cup and followed Vera out into the lobby.

“Hey, Toby. How’s it going?” Hershel asked.

Toby was a quiet, unassuming thirtysomething bachelor who tended to keep to himself. But from the expression on his face, he had obviously been shaken out of his normal demeanor.

“Chief! I was out looking for a fox that had carried off one of my best hens this morning when I found something on the backside of Morgan’s Reach that I think you need to see.”

“What is it?” Hershel asked.

“A car.”

Hershel frowned. “And what’s so special about this car?”

“It’s up a tree. In fact, it’s pretty much up a half-dozen trees. I’m guessing the tornado dropped it there. I couldn’t tell if there was anybody in it or not, but I could see the tag, and I think it’s one of them cars you rent.”

Immediately Hershel thought of the call he’d gotten from that Chicago detective about the lawyer who’d rented a car in Baton Rouge right before he’d gone missing.

Shit. I do not want to start my day by finding another dead man.

Still, it was, as his wife sarcastically said, why he got paid the big bucks.

“You say it’s on Morgan property?” Hershel asked.

“Yep.”

“Can you show me?”

“Yep.”

Hershel pointed to a nearby chair. “There’s doughnuts and coffee. Help yourself, then have a seat. It’ll take me a few minutes to round up some men, and I want to let Lance Morgan know we need to get on his property.”

Toby headed for the food as Hershel began issuing orders.

“Vera, call Morgan’s Reach for me and put it through to my office. Then get on the radio. Tell Lee Tullius to get a couple of off-duty deputies ASAP and
meet me at the fire station. Then call the fire chief and tell him we’re gonna be needing help from his rescue unit.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, as Hershel headed for his office.

Hershel glanced at the coffee he’d abandoned, then told himself he needed to cut back anyway as his phone began to ring. He picked up the receiver.

“Chief. Joe Morgan on line one for you.”

“Thanks, Vera,” he said, and pressed the button. “Joe. Hershel Porter here. Is Lance around?”

Automatically Joe’s stomach knotted. The only time the police chief ever called was when Lance was in trouble.

“No. He’s outside somewhere. Do you want me to find him and have him call you back?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hershel said. “I can give you the information just as easily. We need permission to come on your property. We just received a report of a vehicle that got picked up by the tornado and wound up in the trees on the back side of your property. Seeing as how we still have some missing people, we’re going to have to retrieve the car.”

“Good Lord,” Joe muttered. “I sure hope no one was in it.”

“You and me both,” Hershel said. “We just received a report from the Chicago police that some lawyer who was coming to Morgan’s Reach the day of the storm never returned home. His wife filed a missing person’s report, so we have to check this
out. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be coming on the property.”

Joe figured the lawyer must have been coming on Martinelli’s behalf, but the problem with the loan shark was behind them, and when he realized Porter’s request had nothing to do with Lance, his anxiety eased. “No problem,” he said. “Thanks for calling.”

Joe hung up, then glanced at the clock. He wanted to shower before Lance got back and used up all the hot water. He was still in the shower when Lance came back, and by the time he got out and got dressed, it was time for them to leave for Bordelaise. Joe gave his tie one last tug, then went across the hall to his brother’s bedroom.

Lance was straightening his own tie as Joe appeared in the doorway.

“It’s time to go,” Joe said.

“I’m ready,” Lance said, as he tucked a clean handkerchief in his pocket. “How do I look?” he asked.

Joe frowned. He was still so pissed at Lance for what he’d done, he didn’t feel like being cordial.

“Too damn happy to be going to a funeral,” he muttered, and turned on his heel and walked away.

Lance frowned. He hated it when Joe was pissed at him, but what was done was done. It wasn’t like he could take it back.

“How long are you going to rub this in?” Lance grumbled, as he followed Joe down the hall and out of the house.

Joe spun. “
Rub it in?
Don’t be glib with me, you son of a bitch. This last stunt you pulled wiped out everything I had in the way of savings.”

“Yeah, well, you’re now the sole owner of Morgan’s Reach, so stop bitching.”

Joe’s fingers curled into fists. He’d never wanted to hit anyone as badly as he wanted to hit his own brother now. But he couldn’t. Because he was afraid that if he started, he would never stop.

“By the way, seeing as it’s technically mine now, what happened to Grandma Ellie’s rug that was in the library? I better not hear that you went and sold or pawned it.”

“It’s being repaired,” Lance muttered, knowing there would come a day down the road when he would have to come up with a better answer.

“We’ll see, won’t we? If it doesn’t show back up, I’ll know that’s just one more lie you’ve told. And…just for the record, you’re pathetic,” Joe said. “You don’t care what happens to anyone else as long as you get your way. You’ve been forewarned. This was the end for me. The next time you screw up…and we all know that day will come…you’re on your own. Don’t waste your money calling me, because I am through with you. Now get in the car and try not to piss me off on the way into town.”

For once Lance was speechless. He’d never seen Joe so angry. Wisely he kept quiet as he opened the car door, though he couldn’t hide the long-suffering
expression on his face. Joe might be mad at him, but he would get over it. He always did. Besides, today was a sad business, and he had an image to project. He’d once been Cari North’s fiancé. All eyes would be on him in his time of grief.

Somewhere in the distance, a hound bayed. Joe frowned, then looked over the top of the car toward Lance.

“Sounds like someone’s hunting,” he said.

Lance frowned. The sound was too close to the house for his peace of mind. The last thing he needed was for some damned hunter and his dog to find Austin Ball’s body.

“They better not be hunting on my property,” Lance muttered.

“You no longer own any property,” Joe reminded him, and slid behind the wheel.

“Bastard,” Lance muttered, and then got into the passenger side and buckled up without looking at his brother again.

Joe pulled out of the driveway and onto the highway that led toward Bordelaise without further comment. Today was the day he paid his respects to dear friends. He had the rest of his life to be pissed at Lance. But they hadn’t gone far before Lance flew into a panic that Joe didn’t understand.

“Oh hell!” Lance cried, as they passed a trio of parish police cruisers parked on the side of the road. Suddenly the baying hound took on a new and deadly
connotation. What if they had bloodhounds? What if Austin Ball’s body had already been found? “What could the police possibly be doing on my—on Morgan’s Reach?”

Joe glanced at the cars, as well as the uniformed officers, then shrugged. “They’re after a wrecked vehicle that got left by the tornado,” he said. “I understand someone is still missing.”

Lance felt his breakfast backing up in his throat. “What the hell do you mean? Who’s missing? They can’t just stomp all over the place like that without letting me know.”

“Well, actually, yes, they can,” Joe said. “And they did call. I told them it was fine.”

Lance felt as if the ground had just been yanked out from under him. “What the fuck! Why would you do something like that?” he shrieked.

Joe glanced over at his brother, then returned his attention to driving as he slowed down to take the curve in the road.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Joe asked. “What could it possibly matter? There aren’t any cattle or horses that might get loose, and the soybean and peanut crops are all on the other side of the property.”

Lance didn’t know what to say. “Well…because…I…because, oh, hell. What did they say, anyway?”

“That they’re following up on a missing person’s report made in Chicago. The man—some lawyer—was supposedly on his way to Morgan’s Reach. Any
way, no one’s heard from him since, but someone spotted a car on our property, so they’re checking it out.” Then he looked back at his brother and added, “Why would a lawyer from Chicago be coming to see you? Was he working for Martinelli?”