Diners, Dives & Dead Ends (18 page)

“No, I don’t want to.”  I
sounded childish, but I didn’t care.

“Drink it.”

I took the glass from his
hand, making sure my skin didn’t brush against his, and sipped.  Whiskey.  I
never liked whiskey. 

“Drink some more.”  He retreated
to his chair.

Without taking another
drink, I reached forward and set the glass on the edge of his desk.

“My God, you’re stubborn.” 
He wore a grim expression, the brackets around his mouth seemed deeper.  “I
have Axton.  I know where your friends and family live.  I can get to them at
any time.  Keep your mouth shut and stop asking questions.”

My short nails dug into the
padded armrests.  “You really are an asshole.”

“I didn’t want to do this,
but you forced my hand.  And I will do whatever it takes to protect my
interests.”

“What interests?”

He barked out a laugh and
shook his head, staring up at the ceiling.  “You are unbelievable.” 

As we continued to sit
there, a sense of calm detachment stole over me, as if all this was happening
to someone else, like I was watching a movie.  “There’s something you need to
know.”

“What’s that?” 

I pointed toward the file,
which now lay on his closed laptop.  “If anything happens to my friends or
family, if anything happens to Axton, I’ll kill you.”   

His gaze flickered over my
face.  “I believe you, Rose.”  He clapped his hands.  “Now we know where we
stand, don’t we?”  He stood up, walked to the door, and opening it, spoke to
Henry.  “Take her home.”  BJ left the room and didn’t look back.

I was hauled out and
blindfolded, then shoved into the SUV once again. 

Worst.  Field trip.  Ever.

Henry all but pushed me out
of the SUV and it spun off into the night.  I stood there in the rain, watching
the red tail lights disappear from view. 

BJ had Axton.

When did he take Axton? 
Where did BJ find him and was he okay? 

I picked up my drenched
imitation leather purse and my keys still lying next to it on the rain-soaked
pavement.  I brushed at a wet strand of hair as I made my way to my apartment. 

I stripped off my clothes
and stood in the shower stall, letting the warm water flow over me as I mulled
over my night with BJ.  Kidnapping me, showing me he had Ax, those were pretty
desperate moves.  His threats meant I was on the right track.  I was making him
nervous.  I thought over what I had done the last couple of days.  I’d gone to
Penn’s Cigar Bar and shown Axton’s picture to the bartender.  Went to the
tanning salon and tussled with Manny.  Saw Sheila Graystone a couple of times. 
Filed a police report—which I assumed set BJ off, but maybe I was wrong on that
score—and ended up with a swanky cocktail dress from Pour Femme courtesy of
NorthStar. 

That was the key,
NorthStar.  Had to be.  Between Manny and Pour Femme, I was onto something.  I
smiled at the thought. 

This jerk had my Axton, and
one way or another, I was going to get him back.

I hopped out of the shower,
dried off, and pulled on a pair of sweats.  I made myself a pot of coffee. 
There was absolutely no way I was going to get any sleep.  Not after my day.  I
decided to look up the numbers Sheila gave me.

I booted up my laptop, and
using the reverse address, I found the first number.  Huntingford Bank and
Trust.  According to Sheila, the bank called Packard six times in two days. 
Seemed excessive, but what did I know?  My banking needs were small, just like
the balance in my account. 

The next number belonged to
Charles and Willa Beaumont.  These two were unfamiliar to me, so I did a little
research.  Turns out both Willa and her husband Charles were civic-minded
citizens.  Willa worked with the Historical Preservation Society and Charles
sat on the city council with Packard.  Seemed legitimate.

The next number was for the Sun
Kissed Tanning Salon.  Someone—Manny—called Pack once.  I gasped in excitement. 
Finally a tangible link between NorthStar and at least one Graystone brother. 
I had no idea what it meant, but it wasn’t a dead end, and that had me doing a
happy dance.  Literally.  I got up and danced around my apartment.  I may have
even pumped a fist once or twice.

After I calmed down, I
looked up the final number, the one that popped up nine times.  That number, of
course, was unlisted.

Although it was close to
midnight, I decided to call it.  I pressed star sixty-seven before dialing to
block my number from Caller ID.  Axton taught me that.   

A smooth voice answered on
the second ring.  “Sullivan.”

I froze for a beat in shock
before I quickly pushed the end button on my phone.  I knew that voice.  The
Bossy Jackass.

I stared at my phone as if it
might reach out and bite me.  Sullivan.  That was his name.  First or last?   

I immediately took to the
computer and looked up several combinations.  Sullivan and NorthStar Inc.,
Sullivan and Sun Kissed Tanning, Sullivan and Packard Graystone, and every
other pairing I could think of.  Nothing. 

I called Eric and woke him
up.  “What,” he grumbled.

“I found out who BJ is.  I
found him, Eric.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Rose.  And I have a
link between NorthStar and Packard Graystone.”

“Hang on, give me a
minute.” 

I continued to punch the
word Sullivan into the search engine as I waited for Eric to become coherent. 

“All right, tell me again.  Slowly.”

I told him about Packard’s
call from Sun Kissed Tanning.  “And I think I have a name for The Bossy
Jackass.”

“How did you find out his
name?”

I explained how I had made
this amazing discovery, then sat back, feeling pretty darn pleased with
myself. 

“You rock, Rose.”

I grinned.  “I do rock.  I
rock hard.”

“Let me do a little digging
and see if I can turn up anything.” 

There wasn’t any more I
could do to find Axton tonight.  I suppose I could have studied.  Instead I
watched infomercials until it was time to go to work.

“I’m going to saw my wrists,
I swear.”

I walked from the kitchen
into the dining room the next morning and saw Roxy holding a butter knife in
the air.  Ma grabbed it out of her hand.

Pounding her fists on the
counter, Roxy glared at her.  “I need a cigarette.”

“You’re doing fine, honey,”
Ma said, rubbing her back.

I plucked an apron from the
hook and forced a smile.  “Hey.” 

They both looked up when I
entered. 

“Hey, toots, any news on
Axton?” Ma asked. 

I debated whether to tell them
about Henry’s abduction and Sullivan’s latest threat.  It would upset Ma, and
Roxy would insist I stay with her.  I decided to do some creative editing.  “I
went to Pour Femme
yesterday and told them I was from NorthStar.  They
gave me a dress.  Then I found out BJ’s name and he admitted he has Axton.”

“What?”  Ma slammed the
knife on the counter.  “He has Axton?  What does that mean?”

“Sheila gave me that list of
numbers.  When I called he answered ‘Sullivan.’  He told me to quit asking
questions and said he had Axton.”  That was creative and no one would worry,
right?  “Also, Pack and Sun Kissed Manny know each other.”

“What’s the dress look
like?” Roxy asked.

Ma lightly smacked her arm. 
“Is Axton all right?”

I thought about that
horrible picture of Ax bound and gagged.  He looked terrified.  “I’m not sure.”

She came around the counter
and pulled me into a hug.  “I miss him so much, Ma.  I just want him to be
okay.”

“Maybe you should go to the
police, Rose.  I know this Bossy Jackass—”

“Sullivan,” I mumbled
against her shoulder.

“I know he said not to, but
maybe it’s time.”

“I already went yesterday
with Dane.  They don’t care.  The cop treated me like I was the criminal.  He
didn’t believe me.”

“Dick,” Roxy said.

“He kind of was.”

“I wish I knew what to tell
you, toots.” 

“Me too, Ma.”

I went to the bathroom and
splashed some cool water on my face.  Had I done the right thing not telling
them Henry kidnapped me and took me to a Godfather-style sit down with Sullivan? 
I didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.  I was putting everyone around
me in jeopardy.  Would it be better if I warned them?  Or would it just make
them as paranoid and jittery as I was?

Sundays were usually our
busiest day with people waiting up to thirty minutes for a table.  But because
the heavy rain continued throughout the morning, we were pretty slow.

Dane showed up at eight.  He
shrugged out of a wet all-weather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. 
Running a hand over his hair, his gaze moved around the diner until it found me
in the corner pouring coffee.

I smiled and made my way
over to him.  I felt pretty guilty for leaving him in front of the police
station yesterday, but I’m not sure I wouldn’t do it again.  I didn’t
appreciate Officer Thomas or his piss-poor attitude.

“Hey,” I said.

He smiled.  “Hey.”  He
brushed his thumb along my cheek.  “You look tired.”

I raised my brows.  “Oh
stop, you’re making me blush.  About yesterday, I’m sor—”

“No,” he said, “I’m sorry. 
Andre Thomas may be a good cop, but he acted like an ass and I told him so.”

“I found a name for BJ.” 
Before I could explain further, Ma walked up.

“Hello, young man.”

“Ma Ferguson, this is Dane
Harker.”

She held out her hand. 
“Dane, it’s a pleasure.”

“Nice to officially meet
you.  Do I call you Ma?”

“Everyone else does.  Rose,
we’re not busy right now.  Go sit down with this handsome young man and take as
much time as you need.”

Dane smiled a little at the
compliment.

 I grabbed him a cup of
coffee and led him to the table. 

Dane snapped his fingers. 
“Oh, before I forget, I have something for you.”  He reached into the back
pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper, then handed it to
me.  It was a copy of a webpage for NorthStar.

“What’s this?”

“All the information I could
find about NorthStar.  And that,” he nodded at the paper, “was not a quick
Google search.”

“This is it?”  There was a
logo and an address for a PO Box in Florida.

“Afraid so.  Looks like a
dummy corporation.”

“And that is?” 

“A shell company that’s a
front for another company, and that company is just a dummy for yet another
company.” 

I sighed and looked up from
the paper.  “So can we find the dummy who’s in charge?”

“Easier said than done.  These
things are usually set up as tax shelters.  There are often many, many knots to
unravel.  Think of it as the Russian nesting dolls of corporations.  Could take
years to figure it all out.  And that isn’t my area of expertise.”

One step forward, two steps
back. 

“Now what is this about
finding out BJ’s real name?”

I told him the creative
version of my conversation with BJ and finished up with Sullivan having Axton.

“How do you know it’s true? 
Maybe he’s just telling you that to make you back off.”  He sipped his coffee
and glanced at me over the rim of the cup.

I shrugged.  “He sounded
pretty convincing.  But I also found at least one NorthStar business has a link
to Packard Graystone.”  I told him the link I found between Packard and Sun
Kissed Manny. 

Dane rubbed one finger along
his temple.  “None of this makes sense.”

“I want to know more about
that list of people I showed you, the one with dates and numbers.  How do they fit
in?”

“You can’t seriously think
the people on that list have anything to do with Axton’s disappearance?  I know
those people.  Mayor Briggs was on that list.  And Martin Mathers, the Chief of
Police?  You think he’s involved?”

“Why else would Axton give
it to me for safekeeping?  What else could Sullivan want?”

“I don’t know, but the idea
of these people being involved with…” he trailed off.

“Kidnapping a pothead?”

“Come on, even you have to
admit this is a little crazy.  Do you think Michael Dayton, one of the partners
at my firm, and my boss by the way, even knows Axton?”

“What do you mean even I
have to admit this is crazy?  Axton had this hard drive for a reason, Dane.  He
gave it to me for a reason.  This is connected to his kidnapping whether you
want to believe it or not.”