Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love (41 page)

“And then we had a wonderful time praying together this morning.”

“Wow, that’s over the top. I’m amazed you got there so fast.”

“Yeah, it was great.”

“What’s next?”

“Dinner at six thirty.”

“That I can understand. Followed by a second rendezvous at the nonchaperoned home of Mrs. Margaret Fairmont?”

“No, I’m not going to ask him to serve another night as my private security guard.”

“You should, but you probably won’t. Have fun.”

Before leaving the office, I phoned Mrs. Bartlett and learned that Mrs. Fairmont had a good day at the hospital and might be released soon. At home, I turned off the alarm system before entering the house. Flip greeted me with his customary wiggles and shakes. The little dog’s desires were simple. To him, a treat, a scratch in the right places, and human companionship were the necessary ingredients of a perfect world.

I checked all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked, then rearmed the security system. While I waited for Zach, I sat at the kitchen table with Flip on the floor beneath my chair and read over an extra copy of the decoded paper. It was a cross section of first names—from John to Manuel to Dejuan, and it also included two feminine names, Halley and Tamika. The last name on the list was Rod. I toyed with the idea of calling one of the women just to see if a female answered, but remembering Maggie’s admonition to avoid being a private investigator, I resisted.

The doorbell chimed. I jumped. Glancing through the narrow window in the foyer, I didn’t see Zach. Flip was barking furiously. I reached out to turn off the alarm but instead slipped into the blue parlor, which contained a window that gave a better view of the front of the house. I peeked through the window. Zach was tying his shoes. He looked over and saw me. I gave him a weak wave.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as I opened the door.

“I’m still tense,” I admitted.

Zach’s car was parked at the curb. He opened the door for me.

“Tell me,” he said as soon as we were both buckled in.

I told him about the break-in at the office.

“That’s crazy,” he said when I finished. “It makes your place seem like a specific target, not a random break-in.”

“I know,” I answered forlornly.

We pulled into the parking lot of a small Italian restaurant.

“Have you eaten here?” Zach asked.

“No.”

“You’ll like it.”

An attractive young woman of obvious Italian descent greeted us and led us to a table. The restaurant was noisy and busy, with a jolly atmosphere that didn’t match my mood. I stared at the menu without enthusiasm.

“What looks good?” Zach asked. “Any dish with the Alfredo sauce should cheer you up.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

Our waiter rattled off several suggestions. I ordered one of his recommendations without enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry about what happened at your office,” Zach said when the waiter left. “I’d hoped you would be able to think about our time together this morning.”

“Oh, I did. This is just a temporary thing.”

“Did you talk to your parents?”

“No, I’ll do that tonight after dinner.”

My cell phone in my purse rang. Only a handful of people had the number, all of them known to me. The ID of the caller appeared as “unavailable.” I glanced up at Zach.

“Let me take this. I don’t know who it is.”

I stepped into a short hallway near the restrooms. It was Jan Crittenden.

“I got your cell phone number from Maggie Smith,” she said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” I responded.

“Brett Duffy wanted you to know that the list of names and numbers you unscrambled is going to be more helpful than you realized. One of the names on the list is a woman named Tamika Grady.

She’s in jail in Atlanta facing some serious drug charges. Brett contacted her lawyer, and she might be willing to testify against Hackney if we can help her get a better deal from the Fulton County DA. It’s all preliminary, but I wanted you to know how helpful the information might turn out to be. Also, Brett wanted to make sure you didn’t call any of the people on the list yourself.”

“No—and I won’t. Any word on the police stepping up their search for Jessie?”

“Not yet. I’ll get on that sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I returned the phone to my purse.

“Who was it?” Zach asked.

“Jan Crittenden at the DA’s office.”

“Any news about Jessie?”

“Not specifically.”

Hiding my feelings from Zach wasn’t easy under normal circumstances, but I tried my best to put everything out of my mind during dinner. The food was good, and the smell of the pasta dish restored my appetite. It was still dusky light when we stepped outside the restaurant. An evening breeze from the ocean blew gently through my hair.

“Would you like to go down to the docks and watch the boats come in?” Zach asked. “It’s pretty when they have their lights on. I know a nice spot where we can park the car and walk close to a marina.”

“Okay.”

Zach parked the car along a waterfront street. We got out and walked slowly along a boardwalk with an open view of large boats and yachts moving slowly through the water. We continued until the walkway was blocked by a steel gate that restricted further access to the public.

“The larger yachts are in this part of the marina,” Zach said as we looked through the bars. “Mr. Carpenter owns a boat that he keeps here.”

“Which one is it?” I asked.

Zach moved his head from side to side.

“I’ve been on it a couple of times, but it’s hard to remember exactly which one it is. They all look alike in the dark.”

He pointed in the direction of a bulky gray boat that still had a few lights on it. A couple of figures could be seen moving about on the deck.

“I think it’s next to the one that just came in,” Zach said.

I followed the direction of his finger to a sleek white vessel.

“Yes,” I said. “Mr. Carpenter has a picture of that boat on the wall in his office.”

As I watched, one of the figures on the adjacent boat crossed the deck, almost dragging a smaller person behind him. Every few steps the smaller figure lagged behind until jerked forward.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked Zach. “Do you see the people on that other boat?”

“Yeah, they’ve brought it in for the night.”

“Something’s wrong.”

23

T
HE LITTLE BIT OF FOOD LEFT IN HER STOMACH KEPT
J
ESSIE ALIVE,
but by late afternoon, heat and dehydration began to rapidly wear her down. The entire night and most of the day, she’d kept quiet. Even as her suffering retuned, she remained convinced the offer of freedom in return for information about the leather pouch was bogus. Anyone who would torture her so badly couldn’t be trusted. She considered telling Kelvin a false location but feared the retribution that would come when her information didn’t pan out.

While she sat huddled against the hull of the hold, she tried to remember what she’d done with the paper. She knew she’d carried it around with her and worked on the drawings several times, but she couldn’t recall the last place she had it.

She continued to pray for help. During one of those times, she thought about Sister Dabney and a sermon she’d preached about grapevines. The woman preacher claimed vines had to be cut so they could produce more fruit. Jessie found that hard to believe but couldn’t deny the woman preacher’s vivid description. Thinking that a grapevine might be an interesting addition to her tattoo design, Jessie had taken out the sheet of paper and made a few extra scribbles along the edge.

Then she remembered.

When she realized Sister Dabney was staring at her, Jessie, not wanting her artwork to be confiscated, had hurriedly slipped the sheet of paper into a hymnbook, intending to come back and get it later. She’d also taken one of the certificates with her to the meeting.

Jessie stared into the darkness and tried to figure out what to do next. She could die in the hold, hope that an unforeseen development changed her situation, or renew her offer to show the men where she’d put the sheet of paper. In the book she’d read about buried treasure, the heroine took the villains to the place where the loot was buried, but Jessie couldn’t remember exactly what happened next.

More than twenty hours had passed since Jessie had been returned to the hold. She stood shakily to her feet.

“Open up! I’m ready to talk!” she called out.

I
STEPPED TO THE SIDE OF THE WALKWAY IN AN EFFORT TO GET A
better look at the events taking place on the other boat. The light shifted and it was impossible to see clearly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zach said. “They’re docking the boat. It’s not unusual for a boat that size to have several crew, and someone might spend the night on board, even at the marina.”

A third man appeared on deck. When he walked near a light, I caught my breath. There was no mistaking the blond, spiked hair.

“Clay Hackney is on that boat!”

Zach didn’t respond but moved closer to me.

“I can’t tell,” he said after a couple of seconds.

The first two people weren’t visible. Hackney opened a door and went into the cabin. A solitary figure walked down the dock and got in a vehicle similar to a golf cart.

“What’s he doing?” I asked.

“That’s an electric cart used to load and unload stuff for the boats,” Zach answered. “Let’s go. If Hackney is on the boat, seeing him again is just going to upset you.”

“I’m already upset. And I’m afraid Jessie is with him. I can’t be sure, but it may have been her on deck a minute ago being jerked along.”

“Tami, please. I thought you were going to forget about that for a couple of—” Zach stopped when I cut my eyes sharply toward him.

The man in the golf cart reached the boat. Zach might want to leave, but I wasn’t budging. It was getting darker by the moment. I could see shadowy figures moving around on deck. The boat was moored in such as way that people getting on and off were shielded from our line of sight. In a moment the cart made its way down the dock. When it passed under a security light, I could see two people sitting in the front. One of them was Hackney. Two more people were sitting in the cargo area facing in the opposite direction. There was another security light where Zach and I were standing. I backed into the shadows as the cart reached an intersection on the dock and turned away from us toward the main exit for the marina. When it did so, I got a clearer view of the two people in the rear of the vehicle.

One of them was Jessie.

I pulled on the back of Zach’s shirt and drew him closer to me.

“Did you see the girl in the back of the cart?” I whispered. “It was Jessie.”

The cart continued to move down the dock.

“Are you sure?” Zach asked. “All I saw was a smaller person.”

“Yes.”

Zach turned toward me. “What do you want to do?”

“Contact the police so they can pick her up.”

The cart reached the marina exit and the four people got out. It was too dark to see much else. Zach had his cell phone in his hand. He punched in a few numbers and handed it to me.

“I called 911,” he said.

The operator answered in a few seconds.

“What type of emergency do you have?” the woman asked.

“Criminal. This is Tami Taylor, an attorney in town. I represent a woman named Jessie Whitewater. I just spotted her at the marina at the south end of Riverside Street. The police need to come here immediately and pick her up.”

“Just a minute, please,” the woman replied.

I looked at Zach and put my hand over the phone receiver.

“She’s checking something. Let’s go to the car. Do you know where the parking lot for the marina is?”

“Yes. It’s just around the corner.”

Not waiting for Zach, I started walking rapidly toward the car with the phone in my hand. The 911 operator didn’t come back on the line until we reached the car.

“Ms. Taylor?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I checked with the police department, and they have no record of an outstanding arrest warrant for a woman by the name of Jessie Whitewater.”

“She’s out on bond but didn’t appear at a hearing in front of Judge Cannon a couple of days ago.”

“Did the judge revoke her bond and issue a bench warrant?”

“No, he wanted to give the person on the bond a chance to locate the defendant. Jan Crittenden, an assistant DA, contacted the police and told them to be on the lookout for Ms. Whitewater. I’ve found her and need someone to pick her up and take her to jail.”

“And this is your client?”

“Yes,” I said with exasperation.

Zach and were sitting in the car. I motioned for him to drive.

“Until the police department receives paperwork from the court or the DA’s office, they will not dispatch a car to make an arrest.”

“What!” I exploded. “I’m telling you the DA’s office wants this young woman brought into custody as soon as possible. She could be a material witness in a significant case.”

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I understand, but the dispatcher at the police department told me they won’t make an arrest without a legal basis to do so.”

I fumed silently for a moment. “Then tell them Ms. Whitewater has been kidnapped and is being held against her will!”

There was no immediate answer. Zach reached the street exit for the marina parking lot. I didn’t see any cars moving in the area.

“Would you like the phone number for the police department so you can talk to someone directly?” the operator asked me.

“Yes, give me that,” I snapped.

I ended the call and quickly entered the number before I forgot it. While it rang, a large sedan with tinted windows approached the marina exit.

“Do you think that’s it?” I asked Zach.

Before he could answer, a man from the police department came on the line.

“Savannah Police Department, Officer Brookings.”

“Follow that car,” I said to Zach. “It might be them. And remember the license plate number.”

“Excuse me?” the officer replied.