Robert B. Parker's Debt to Pay (26 page)

A
fter the toasts and before the meal, Jesse nodded to Kahan to meet him by the restrooms. Kahan waited a minute before following Jesse.

“The phone call? Ari told me you didn't look happy and that you were raising your voice at the end of the conversation.”

“It was him,” Jesse said. “Peepers.”

“He called you? Why?”

“Why do you think? To taunt me. To remind me that he was going to return a debt to me and Suit by hurting Jenn.”

“He does like telegraphing his moves to you. He's consistent in that way.” Kahan held out his hand. “I'll let Pruitt know. For now, give me your phone, Jesse.”

Jesse did as he was asked. Kahan called the number back. No answer. When it went to voice mail, all he got was a recording that the message box had yet to be configured. He shrugged.

“I'll have the number checked out, but it will be a prepaid phone. My guys will probably be able to trace it back to the cell tower, but I doubt we'll get a specific enough location to act on it.”

“He's close,” Jesse said. “I can feel it.”

“We know he's here.”

“No, Scott, I mean close. Maybe not in this hotel, but close.”

“Besides taunting you and threatening Jenn, what did he say?”

Jesse recounted the call pretty much verbatim, adding his observations about Peepers's inflection, tone, the length of his pauses, et cetera. Kahan listened impassively, taking in all the details.

“What do you think he meant by saying ‘until tomorrow'?”

“He's got something planned for tomorrow,” Jesse said.

“How do you know he didn't mean he was going to call you tomorrow? Isn't that how you would normally understand someone saying ‘until tomorrow'?”

“The way he said it. I'm telling you, he's going to do something tomorrow.”

“But there are no events planned tomorrow. It's the day before the wedding. Jenn and Hale built in a kind of day off for themselves and the guests so everyone could be well rested and looking good for the wedding. They're even eating all their meals in. It doesn't figure. Look, Jesse, I know you think this guy is some kind of ghost. He's good. I'll give him that, but there's no way he'll be able to get anywhere near the house.”

“What about the pipe bombs?”

“At its closest point, the wall around the house is nearly an eighth of a mile away. Tough to hurl a pipe bomb, even a small one, that far. And it's not as if I won't have my people everywhere.”

“How about a sniper rifle or an RPG?”

“A rocket-propelled grenade! This isn't Tikrit, Stone. And you're forgetting your own theory. He isn't going to hurt Jenn if you're not there to see it. Up close and personal, isn't that the way he likes to operate? If you're not going to be anywhere near Jenn tomorrow, and we'll make sure you won't be, then she's safe. No, I'm betting on the
wedding day. He's going to call you tomorrow and taunt you again. That's what he meant.”

“It didn't feel that way, but maybe you're right. And tomorrow, put an extra guy or two on the hotel. Maybe close to Diana. He might be pointing us at Jenn, when it's Diana he's after.”

Kahan smiled a not-altogether-smug smile. “I've had people close to her since the day after we met in New York. Nothing's going to happen to either Diana or Jenn on my watch . . . or you, for that matter. What's wrong, Stone? Upset you didn't spot my people?”

“Something like that.”

“You're not the only person on earth good at his job. Now go back inside and enjoy your steak. It is amazingly good. We'll have plenty of time until Peepers comes after Jenn. And when he does, it will finally be over.”

Jesse walked away from Kahan feeling reassured, but not completely. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on was gnawing at him, but nothing concrete. Every time he thought he had a grasp on what it was, it slipped away. So he headed back to the table, still trying to figure out what was eating at him.

H
e awoke to the soft, synthesized sounds of wind chimes dancing in a light breeze. He reached his short left arm across to the nightstand, tapping the sleep button. The second time the gently ringing chimes sounded, they got his full attention, his eyes snapping open. He shut the alarm, slipped on his glasses, checked the time, and swung his pale white legs off the bed. He surrendered to nature, his little body and face distorting as he stretched the sleep out of his muscles and joints. His shoulder ached, as it always did in the morning. He sometimes wondered if the real Jesse Stone's shoulder ached this way in the morning. At the moment his focus was elsewhere, though he was sure Jesse Stone's focus and attention were squarely on him. If they weren't, he was about to make sure Jesse's focus was squarely on him. Hopping out of bed, he smiled at the thought and in anticipation of the kill.

Thirty minutes later, cup of coffee in hand, he went out to the valet on duty, gave the Mexican kid his parking stub and a ten-spot. He said, “Please have my car at the east hotel exit. Leave the keys in the ignition, please.” He looked at his watch. “Have it there in
precisely twenty minutes. That's at nine-fifteen. If the car is there as I ask, there'll be another ten in it for you.”

“Yes, sir. Nine-fifteen,” the kid said, throwing his thumb at the east side of the building. “It'll be right there where you ask.”

He went back up to his room, blind to the activity in the lobby, blind to the men and women in their athletic gear, heading out to the running trails across the way, blind to the mother struggling with her two-year-old son, whose stomping feet and angry tears were just the first steps toward a full-blown tantrum.

Upstairs, he hung the
Do Not Disturb
sign from the outside door handle, closed the door, clicked the security lock closed, and swung the triangular door latch over the little arm and knob attached to the jamb. He removed the lamp and clock radio from the nightstand, placed them on the bed, and wriggled the nightstand to a spot a few feet behind the French doors that opened onto the room's small balcony. He repeated the steps with the nightstand from the other side of the bed, hefting the second nightstand on its side atop the first one. He swung open the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. He looked across to the adjoining building, the residential tower of the Park Mansion complex, counted nine floors up and two windows to his left. He looked up to the sky. It was a clear day and there might be some glare off the windows, but not enough to trouble him.

He retrieved his rifle from the black “fishing equipment” case, the magazine and scope from his duffel bag. He affixed the scope to the rifle, threaded his arm through the strap, placed his elbow on the second nightstand, and lined up the shot. He made minor adjustments to the scope. When he was satisfied, he unthreaded his arm from the rifle strap, clicked the magazine into the weapon, and laid
it down on the bed. He checked his watch and retrieved yet another one of his many prepaid cell phones. He dialed Jesse Stone's number. It took only two rings for Jesse to pick up.

“Jesse Stone.”

“Good morning, Jesse,” he said. “Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Wedding bells are almost ready to chime. Consider today a free preview of things coming your way. And when you're contemplating the damage done, remember that it all comes back—”

“Damage? What—”

“It's rude to interrupt. I don't like rudeness. Remember that. And remember that if you had only let things be, neither of us would be here in Vineland Park today. How many people are dead already because you just couldn't let things alone? Tick, tock, Jesse. Tick, tock.”

He clicked off, undid the guts of the phone, stomped on it, and dropped it in the toilet. He checked his watch once more, picked up the rifle, and rethreaded his arm through the strap. He lined up the shot again. This wasn't about precision. If he hit her, all the better. If not, it would serve to reinforce his message about minding her manners and to remind her that she would never be free of him. That she would always be his prisoner, tied to that workbench in the old building in West Dallas. In any case, the shot, and the rest of what was about to unfold, was for Jesse Stone's benefit and, in its way, for Jenn. A sort of wedding gift to her. He smiled that smile of his, remembering just how beautiful Jenn had looked as she tried on her wedding gown.

He waited. He knew that he probably wouldn't feel the attaché case explode on the tenth floor. It was meant to be more lightning than thunder anyway, a means to distract and misdirect, not to inflict much damage or do harm. What he knew was that the fire
alarm would ring immediately in the wake of the explosion, and that would be his cue. And . . . there it was, the shrill electronic shrieking, the grating chirping, and the announcement from speakers mounted in the hallway to evacuate the building in an orderly fashion using the stairwells only and not the elevators.

He put in his earplugs. He worked the bolt, placing a cartridge into the rifle's chamber, took aim, and just as he moved his trigger finger off the trigger guard and onto the trigger, a silhouette appeared against the curtain in the window across the way. He couldn't believe his good fortune and did not hesitate. The glass shattered across the way and the silhouette was no longer visible. The shot was loud, he knew, and under any other set of circumstances would have attracted unwanted attention. But with the alarm sounding, the announcement repeating, people running for their lives, no one was going to stop to investigate. By the time anyone did, he would be long gone.

When he climbed down the east exit stairs, the car was where it was supposed to be, but the Mexican kid was nowhere in sight. He snickered because he hadn't meant to give the kid the extra ten bucks, in any case.

A
lthough they responded to both immediately, it had taken a while for the Vineland Park PD to connect the explosion in the luggage room at the hotel to the killing at the residential tower across the way. By that time, the little man registered at the Park Mansion Hotel and Spa was gone with the wind. It was Jed Pruitt himself who showed up at Jesse Stone's hotel to fetch him and Diana and bring them to the crime scenes.

“You know the situation?” Pruitt asked, pulling away from the hotel and heading toward the Park Mansion complex.

Jesse said, “We heard the sirens, then Kahan called. Filled us in on what he knew. Told us that Hale's house was pretty much in lockdown mode and that they were prepared to put Jenn in the panic room or to evacuate. But he didn't have all the details on what had happened at the Park Mansion.”

“He didn't have all the details because neither did we. Here's how it stands: That guy we met who was guarding Belinda Yankton is dead. A clean headshot through glass and drapes from the tenth floor of the adjoining building. The room the shot came from was registered to—and you're not going to like this part even a little
bit—Jesse Stone of Paradise, Massachusetts. I can't say that I much appreciate his sense of humor.”

Diana asked, “How's Belinda Yankton?”

“She's safe for the moment. We've moved her to an undisclosed location.”

“That's not what I meant, Chief.”

Pruitt apologized. “Sorry, Diana, I was thinking like a cop there and not like a human being. She's a wreck, as you might imagine. It took her a few minutes to gather herself to go into the next room after she heard the glass break and the thud. Then a few more minutes to finally call nine-one-one. When we showed up at her address, she refused to let us in. We had to break into the condo and, as Jesse can attest, those front doors of hers were not easy to breach. My people found her barricaded in her bedroom closet, smeared with blood and clutching a Bible. Had to sedate her.”

“You've gone wide with this,” Jesse said.

Pruitt nodded, but not enthusiastically. “Had to, Jesse. We could play it close, keep it between us, as long as we thought Jenn was the only target and nothing else happened. But this is homicide, a bombing, and you know Homeland Security is going to be up my ass about it being a terrorist attack. The god-danged media's already reporting it as such, though that don't make a lick of sense.”

“Was anyone hurt in the bombing?” Diana asked.

“No, ma'am, no one. Apparently, it wasn't much of a bomb, as near as we can tell. A lot of sound and not much fury. At least we can all be thankful for that.”

“He didn't want anyone to get hurt or a lot of people would have gotten hurt,” Jesse said. “This was all for my benefit.” Jesse explained about the phone call he'd gotten from Peepers earlier. “I was set to call you when we heard all the sirens coming from Vineland Park.”

“Kahan called last night and told me Peepers had called you at the restaurant, but what could we have done? We had no way of knowing where he'd strike or if he even meant his threats. We couldn't have stopped him. Still likely I'm going to catch hell over this. Probably lose my job.”

“The great frustration of law enforcement,” Jesse said. “Criminals act. We react.”

They pulled up to the curb outside the Park Mansion complex.

Pruitt said, “We can look at the homicide scene later, if you'd like. Really not much to see over there now but the broken glass, the drapes, and bloodstain. I think we should check out the hotel room first. There's stuff in there I think you need to see.”

When they entered the hotel they saw a team of cops photographing and sifting through debris from the explosion. Shards of wood from the door that had once kept the luggage room secure as well as scraps of clothing, shreds of leather and plastic suitcases, and bits of metal had been blown out into the lobby.

The tenth floor of the Park Mansion Hotel and Spa was teeming with police, and not all of them from Vineland Park.

“We asked for an assist from the Dallas PD,” Pruitt said. “As good as I'd like to think we are, we don't have much expertise with these sorts of crimes. Come on down here.” They walked halfway down the hall. “Peepers's room has already been gone through and dusted, but I had them leave a few things for you to see.”

The cop at the door nodded to Pruitt and stepped aside to let the three of them enter.

“You can see he used the nightstands as a shooting platform. If you stand behind it and look slightly to the left, you'll see the window he shot into.”

“But you didn't bring us up here to show us this,” Diana said.

Pruitt shook his head. “I did not.”

“Then what?” Jesse asked.

“We found these in the closet.” Pruitt handed over three evidence bags to Jesse. “They're schematics for the electrical, plumbing, heating, and cooling systems of the Vineland Park Country Club. “He's a thorough son of a bitch. Gotta give him that.”

Jesse didn't like it. Thorough people aren't usually sloppy, and leaving those schematics behind was sloppy.

“What's wrong, Jesse?” Diana asked.

“I'm not sure.”

Pruitt yanked the cell phone off his belt and excused himself. He didn't look pleased when he came back into the room.

“They just found his rental ditched about three miles north of here,” Pruitt said.

Jesse made a face. “What was it, a Honda Civic?”

“No, as a matter of fact, it was a blue Maserati. Guess he wanted to seem like he belonged here.”

Jesse stared at Diana and they seemed to have the same thought at the same time.

Diana said, “Something's not right.”

“Very not right,” Jesse agreed.

Pruitt was dumbfounded. “I'd say. The man just set a pipe bomb off in a hotel lobby and murdered a man he never met through a window.”

That wasn't what they meant, but neither Jesse nor Diana wanted to argue or explain.

Jesse said, “Can you have someone take us over to Hunsicker's place?”

Pruitt made a face. “Sure, but don't you want to see—”

Jesse shook his head. “We need to get over there, Jed.”

Diana reached her arm out and placed it on Pruitt's shoulder. “As soon as possible, Chief.”

“Look, you two. I'm not having anybody do anything until you explain what the rush is all about.”

Jesse and Diana looked at each other again, but it was Jesse who spoke. “He played us. I don't think Jenn's his target, at least not anymore.”

Pruitt understood without any further explanation.

“Officer Moore,” the chief said to the cop guarding the door, “take these folks over to the Hunsicker house, and do it now.” He turned back to Jesse and Diana, shook their hands. “I'll call ahead for you. Be safe.”

They left without another word.