Girl Missing (20 page)

“What evidence?” asked Kat.

“Things we found. In the victim’s house.”

“Aside from nude photos of ex-girlfriends?”

“Yes.” Sykes looked at Adam. “What did you know about Esterhaus when you hired him?”

“Just what was in his résumé. As I recall, he came well qualified. Excellent references. Had a research position somewhere out in California.”

“That should’ve tipped you off right there,” said Ratchet, spearing another sausage. “Who in his right mind leaves sunny California and moves to Albion?”

“You mean his references were falsified?” asked Kat.

Sykes nodded. “Courtesy of the U.S. government.”

“What?”

“See, the name Herbert Esterhaus was an alias. We found his old IDs in his house. His real name was Dr. Lawrence Hebron. Oh, he was a biochemist, all right, but he didn’t work for a company in California. He worked in Miami. A designer drug lab owned by the mob. A real genius, so I hear. Then he got busted and turned state’s evidence. They put him in the witness protection program, gave him a new name, a new résumé. And a new job, with Cygnus. Where, I take it, he was working out just fine.”

Adam nodded. “He was one of our best.”

“And you think that’s why he was killed?” asked Kat. “Old mob connections?”

“There are folks in Miami who aren’t happy with him. If they traced him to Albion, then he was a dead man.”

“We figure,” said Ratchet, wiping sausage grease from his mouth, “Esterhaus is the key to it all. Maybe he needed some extra cash, so he rips off a few grains of Zestron-L from the lab, sells it on the street. A few junkies die as a result. Then his old buddies from Miami get wind of his whereabouts, come up, and perform a little thirty-eight-caliber justice.”

There was a silence as Kat and Adam considered the theory. “So we’re supposed to believe that Miami boys drove up and did your job for you?” said Kat. She shook her head. “Too neat. And who blew up my house?”

“Esterhaus was a biochemist,” said Ratchet. “He could put together a respectable bomb.”

“Why? Just to shut me up?”

Sykes laughed. “There are times, Novak, when I would
love
to shut you up. Consider what the man was faced with, if you kept pushing your investigation. Charges of theft. Manslaughter, for those junkies. Plus, you’d blow
his cover identity, so his life was at stake as well.”

“And Maeve?” said Kat, glancing at the nude photos. “How does she figure in?”

“We don’t know,” said Sykes. “We thought maybe Mr. Q. could shed some light.”

Adam shook his head, troubled by what he’d heard. “Maeve never said a word to me about any of this.”

“You had no idea she was seeing Esterhaus?”

“She had her own life, her own apartment. I suspected there was a man, but I didn’t know his name. And she wouldn’t bother telling
me
.” In disgust, he swept up the photos and stuffed them back in the envelope. “I’d strangle him myself, if he weren’t already dead.”

Kat caught the glance that flew between Sykes and Ratchet.
Careful, Adam
, she thought.
They’re looking for suspects. Don’t provide them with one
.

She said, quickly, “Do you think Maeve knew about his real identity? We know she and Esterhaus weren’t getting along—those arguments at the lab, remember? Maybe it had nothing to do with the job. Maybe it was personal. Maybe she learned the truth about him.
And she walked out. Not on the job, but on
him
.”

“She could have told me,” said Adam. “But she didn’t. Lord, what a disaster I’ve been as a father.”

Kat touched his arm. It wasn’t enough to close the gap yawning between them; perhaps nothing could close that. But it let him know she cared. “Maybe she couldn’t tell you. Maybe she was ashamed she had fallen for the guy in the first place. Or scared.”

“Of what?”

“The man she was sleeping with had a price on his head. And he was pushing poison on the street. That would scare a lot of people.”

“Then why didn’t she come to
me
?” said Adam. “I would have kicked him out of Cygnus so fast, he wouldn’t know what hit him.”

“You may have answered your own question,” said Kat. “If she had any feelings at all for Esterhaus, she wouldn’t expose him. So she just walked away. Went someplace he couldn’t find her.”

“South Lexington?” Ratchet snorted. “I can think of better neighborhoods to hide in.”

Sykes scooped up the envelope of photos and rose to leave. “We’ll keep trying to find her,”
he said. “But I’m afraid it’s turned into a game of hide-and-seek. And Maeve’s pretty damn good at it.” He glanced at Adam. “As you already know.”

Adam shook his head, a weary gesture of acceptance. Defeat. “You won’t find her,” he said. “No one will. Not unless she wants to be found.”

They spotted Celeste a block away, her curlicued hair bouncing up and down as she skipped rope. She didn’t break stride as they drove closer and pulled up next to her. She was counting to herself in a soft, flat drone: “One twenty-eight, one twenty-nine, one thirty …”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Adam whispered to Kat. “Maybe we should try Anthony again.”

“And lose another two hundred dollars?” Kat shook her head. “This kid knows her way around. Let’s see if she’ll help us out.”

“One thirty-eight, one thirty-nine …”

“Hello, Celeste,” Kat called through the open car window. “Can we talk to you?”

“One forty-four, one forty-five.”

“We need a little help.”

“One forty-eight …” The rope suddenly fell limp, snagged by Celeste’s shoe. She stamped her foot in annoyance. “I was goin’ for a record, too.” Resignedly she turned to Kat. “So what do you need?”

“We want to talk to Jonah,” said Kat. “The big man.”

“What for?”

“Just talk. About what’s coming down.”

“Jonah doesn’t talk to outsiders.”

“Maybe he’ll talk to us. A new jump rope says he will.”

“I’d rather have a watch. Y’know, with all those fancy dials and things.”

“And you thought Anthony was steep,” muttered Adam.

“Okay,” said Kat. “A watch. But only if he talks to us.”

Celeste grinned. “Wait here,” she said and trotted off down the street. She turned left, into an alley, and vanished.

“Is this going to work?” said Adam.

“We can’t get to Maeve any other way. So we have to try going to the top. If she’s Jonah’s lady, that’s where she’ll be. With him.”

“Maeve won’t talk to us. She won’t let us anywhere near her.”

“But things have changed. Esterhaus is dead. She’s a suspect. So she’d better talk to us. Before the police
make
her talk.” She looked at Adam. “Besides, this is your chance to call off the feud, or whatever it is between you two. It’s gone on long enough. Don’t you think it’s time for you and Maeve to be a family again?”

He gazed down the street, at the alley where Celeste had vanished. “You’re right,” he said softly. “It’s time …”

They waited. Ten minutes, fifteen.

Instead of Celeste, it was their old escort Leland who emerged from the alley. He sauntered over to their car and peered inside.

“You two again,” he said.

“We want to see Jonah,” said Kat.

“What for?” demanded Leland.

“This place is gonna be thick with cops. I thought the big man might want to know what’s coming down.”

Leland looked skeptical. “You doin’ him a favor? Sure.”

“I got one to ask in return.”

An exchange of favors—that concept, Leland could grasp. He opened Kat’s door. “Okay, you’re on. Just you, not the dude.”

“Now, wait a minute,” said Adam, climbing out of the car as she did.

“It’s the chick or nobody.”

“She’s not going in there without me.”

“Then she ain’t goin’ in at all.”

“If those are the terms, then we’re not—”

“Adam, can I speak to you?” Kat grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “Don’t ruin it.”

“You don’t know anything about this Jonah character!”

“And I never will, if I don’t go in.”

Adam glanced at Leland, who was standing by the rear bumper. “He’s twice your size. No, he’s twice
my
size. If he wanted to, he could—”

“Do you want to contact Maeve or not?”

“Not if it means sending you off with him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not afraid of him, you know.”

“Which says something about your sanity.”

“There’s a code of honor here, Adam. You may not believe it, but people do play by the big man’s rules. Jonah says I’m in, then I’m in. And no one touches me.”

“What if the rules have changed?”

“I’m gambling they haven’t.”

“There’s the word for it. Gambling.”

“Are you comin’ or what?” said Leland.

“I’m coming,” said Kat, and she turned to follow him.

Adam caught her arm. “One question, Kat. Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need your daughter. And I think she needs you.” With that she pulled away and followed Leland up the street.

They turned left, into the alley, then right, up another alley. There Leland halted. He pulled out a bandanna and tossed it to her. “Put it over your eyes,” he said.

“You boys got a secret hideout?”

“We wanna keep it that way.”

Stupid kid stuff
, she thought as she wrapped the bandanna over her eyes and tied it at the back. The cloth stank of cheap aftershave. “Okay. I’m blind as a bat. Now don’t screw up and let me trip on anything.”

“You, lady, I’ll be happy to throw out a window. Come on.” She felt his paw take hold of her arm—not gently, either.

They moved forward. She felt glass skitter away before her blindly shuffling feet. Leland’s grip remained firm, her only link to the world. She tried counting paces, then gave up after a while, knowing only that they’d traveled a
long way—maybe in circles. She stumbled over a threshold, was dragged back to her feet. They were in a building, she realized, listening to their footsteps echo across the floor. Too many turns to keep track of now. Up some stairs, then back down. Cold air on her face—outside? A walkway, perhaps? Back inside—those echoing footsteps again.

The echoes elongated, bounced off widely spaced walls. There were others here; she could hear footsteps and a murmur of voices.

Leland halted.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“My castle,” said a voice—one she didn’t recognize. It boomed forth, like an actor’s from the stage.

“Are you Jonah?” asked Kat.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” said the man. “Take off your blindfold.”

Kat hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached up and pulled off the bandanna.

S
HE WAS STANDING IN A DARK ROOM
—
A
warehouse. On her right was a window, covered over by fabric. Only the faintest light managed to seep through the weave, offering her a dim view of scattered crates, sagging posts.
I have an audience
, she thought with a sudden flash of nervousness as she realized shadows were moving around her.

A light sprang on, a single bare lightbulb swaying from a wire.

She squinted against the glare, trying to make out the faces surrounding her. There were at least a dozen of them, all with eyes trained on her, watching her, waiting for signs of fear or vulnerability. She tried not to show either. “So,” she said, “which one of you is Jonah?”

“That depends,” someone said.

“On what?”

“On who
you
are.”

“The name’s Kat Novak. And this used to be my neighborhood.”

“She’s a cop,” said Leland. “Goes around askin’ questions like one, anyway.”

“Not a cop,” said Kat. “I work for the medical examiner’s office. People die, my job’s to find out why. And you’ve had folks dying around here.”

“Hell,” someone said with a laugh. “Folks dyin’ all the time. Nothin’ special.”

“Nicos Biagi wasn’t special? Or Xenia? Or Eliza?”

There was a silence.

“So why do
you
care, Kat Novak?”

Even before she turned to face the speaker, she knew it was Jonah. The tone of command in his voice was unmistakable. She found herself gazing at a magnificent man, towering, with unnaturally pale eyes and a lion’s mane of brown hair. The others remained silent as he moved forward to confront her in the circle of light.

“Is it so hard to believe, Jonah, that I
would
care?” she asked.

“Yeah. Because no one else does.”

“You forget. This was my neighborhood. I used to hang out on the same streets you hang out on now. I knew your mothers. I grew up with them.”

“But
you
left.”

“No one ever really leaves this place. You can try all your life, but it stays with you. Follows you wherever you go.”

“Is that why you’re here? To help the lost souls you left behind?”

“To do my job. To find out why people are dying.”

“To do your job? Is that all?”

“And—” She paused. “To warn your lady, Maeve.”

Jonah stood stock-still. No one moved.

Then the steady
click-click
of boot heels across the floor cut through the silence. A shadow, sleek as a cat’s, came out of the darkness. Casually the woman strolled into the circle of light where she stood with arms crossed, gazing speculatively at Kat. She was dressed all in black, but in various textures of black: leather skirt, knit turtleneck, a quilted jacket with patches of shimmery satin. Her hair looked like broom straw—stiff and ragged, the blond strands tipped with a startling shade of purple.
She was thin—too thin, her eyes dark hollows in a porcelain face.