“You know,” she added, “what we’ve done is nothing compared to the damage Pickett’s caused.”
“Not that that’s any use to us.” He let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Can you imagine trying to prove in court that he’s responsible for all those deaths and injuries? ‘Your honor, this man, the one sitting over there with the heart condition, is responsible for killing and injuring twenty younger, healthier, armed men.’” He switched to mimicking a judge’s stentorian tones.
“‘And how did the defendant accomplish this orgy of destruction, Mr. Huddy?’
“‘Well, your Honor, he looked at them.’” Again the humorless laugh, then, “Where’ve you stashed the grandniece?”
“Up at CCM’s Matagorda complex,” she told him. “The plant manager’s a fat toady named Barker, five years from retirement. The only thing he’s worried about anymore is his pension. He doesn’t like it one bit, but I assured him he’ll be kept out of it. Of course, we can involve him if we have to, but he doesn’t know that. The only threats I made were indirect, but he got the message. He won’t give us any trouble.”
“What about the lower-downs?”
“Everyone there’s busy with his or her own job. I’ve got one of my own people handling outside traffic and you already know who’s taking care of things inside. None of the employees saw the girl being brought in. She’s in the apartment in Administration that the plant maintains for visiting VIPs. Relax, Benjy. Everything’s under control.”
“That’s my girl,” he said admiringly. “I need to let you take some of this kind of heavy stuff off my shoulders more often.”
“That’s exactly what you should do.” Privately she was still worried about Huddy. He sounded normal now,’ but the longer this Pickett business dragged on, the more he seemed to be coming apart. Damned shame if that happened. She’d hate to lose him, both as lover and coconspirator within the corporate ranks. He was important to her future. But she’d have to watch him from now on. She had no intention of going down with his ship.
“One thing worries me,” he was saying. “I wonder if Pickett will believe us when we go to tell him that we’re the people who have his grandniece.”
“Oh, I think he will, Benjy. He’s already seen that we’re not afraid of going to extremes. If necessary we can let him talk to her on the phone. Relax. The two of you will be on an L.A. bound plane within a couple of days.”
“I hope so. Okay, everything’s set, then. You sit tight. I’ll be there in a few hours, as soon as I can charter a plane out of here. Then all we have to do is wait for Pickett to show at his niece’s place, learn about the abduction, and us get in touch with him.”
“Right.” Her tone softened. “I’ve missed you, Benjamin.”
“I’ve missed you too, sweet thing. Are all the taps still in place at the niece’s house?”
“No sweat. The cops down here wouldn’t recognize a tap if it crawled up and bit them on the ear. Bye.”
The phone clicked. She held onto the receiver, thinking, and finally decided to call Matagorda. It wouldn’t hurt to make doubly certain everything was going smoothly up there. Not that she anticipated any trouble with the girl. Even if she awoke, she could hardly up and run away.
She dialed the private number. She didn’t like assigning Drew the task of keeping watch over the grandniece, but he’d been in on this Pickett business almost from the start. It was safer than using a local, and Benjamin had always shown a great deal of confidence in him. At least she didn’t have to deal with him much in person. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. He intimidated Barker, though, and it was always useful to have that kind of man around. Sometimes a warning grunt could be the best answer to an awkward question.
The crocheted placemat which usually adorned the center of the coffee table was coming to pieces in Wendy Ramirez’s hands as she twisted and pulled it absently. She needed something to hold onto, something solid. Something of her daughter’s. The centerpiece that Amanda had crocheted for a school project wasn’t much.
Her husband paced the floor nearby. His big, scarred hands, which had caught too many fishhooks, flexed dangerously. His normal cheery demeanor had vanished completely. Events had stunned him into a furious, futile silence.
Sheriff Benbrook looked tired. Considerably more tired than the day he’d driven out to talk to them about the vandalism of their van. Benbrook liked working in Port Lavaca. You got to know everyone and they got to know you, a situation which made solving crimes a fairly simple matter of just asking around.
Now a different kind of crime had come to Port Lavaca, and he wasn’t happy about it.
The man who sat in the chair across from Wendy wore a business suit, glasses and a thin, out-of-style tie. He was much smaller than either the sheriff or Arriaga Ramirez. He was also more imposing.
It had taken quite a lot of yelling and complaining on the part of the Ramirezes, supported by Sheriff Benbrook, before the FBI became convinced that a kidnapping might have taken place in the sleepy coastal town. They’d finally sent a representative, an agent Roeland, all the way down from the Houston office to take their statement.
Despite the reluctance of his Bureau, Roeland himself seemed genuinely sympathetic and anxious to be of help. That made Wendy feel a little better. Much better than she’d felt during her last conversation with his office, when she’d had to explain that no, her daughter couldn’t have simply wandered off because she was incapable of wandering anyplace.
Now she sat and watched while Arriaga, in response to the agent’s request, disappeared into their bedroom and returned with the picture of Amanda that the man required. Nor was the photo enough. He recorded every imaginable detail about Amanda, from the make and color of the nightgown she’d been wearing when she’d disappeared to the color of eye shadow she normally used. When they’d finished he flipped his little notebook closed. It was the only sound in the living room.
Roeland put his pen back in his breast pocket, carefully sliding the metal clip over the flap so it would stay in place.
“I’m terribly sorry about the trouble you had with the home office, Mrs. Ramirez,” he said. “The woman who answered didn’t mean to appear flippant. But you have to understand that we receive hundreds of crank calls every month. Very, very few actually deal with real abductions.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “I know this isn’t a crank call, but maybe it’s not an abduction either.”
“What else could have happened to her?” Wendy was having a difficult time staying coherent. There was a lump in her throat and tears ever ready to fall. They made talking hard. “What could have happened to her? Her friends wouldn’t play a practical joke like this on her, or on us.”
“I just want to find whoever’s responsible,” rumbled Arriaga, pausing in his pacing. He glared first at the sheriff, then the agent. “I’d just like to have five minutes alone with them, that’s all.”
“Believe me, the Bureau shares your anxiety, Mr. Ramirez. Truly.” The agent turned back to Wendy. “I know that right now it seems inconceivable to you that there could be another explanation for what’s happened to your daughter, Mrs. Ramirez, but we often run into surprising solutions to seemingly straightforward cases. For example, you must have noticed that there’s been no ransom note.”
Arriaga let out a short, leaden laugh. Wendy said hollowly, “We don’t have any money. There are other… reasons for kidnapping someone. Particularly a young girl.”
“But not usually from her own bedroom, Mrs. Ramirez. I think you can rest easy on that score. We’ve also established that nothing was missing from her room, so robbery of some kind wasn’t the motive.
“After considering all the information there is only one other reason for an abduction that I can think of. At least, only one that makes any sense. This is only a preliminary hypothesis on my part, you understand.”
Ramirez stopped as if shot and turned to take up a stance behind the couch, his hands resting on his wife’s shoulders. Wendy stared anxiously at the agent while the Sheriff waited curiously. Benbrook was ever willing to learn.
“The sheriff here mentioned that you were involved in an incident in front of your house several days ago, Mr. Ramirez, during which you surprised some would-be car strippers at work on your van?”
Arriaga nodded slowly. Wendy looked up at him, took one of his hands in hers and squeezed hard.
The agent continued. “It’s possible that those you surprised might have been so upset that they decided to come back and take a modicum of revenge. Sheriff Benbrook informs me that he’s pretty sure they were from out of town. Urban professionals would be much more inclined to risk a return to the scene of the crime to try something along that line. Especially since the sheriff tells me you apparently hurt one of them pretty badly.”
“I think I broke his goddamn face,” Arriaga muttered. “I should’ve put the pipe all the way through his head.”
Roeland nodded understandingly. He looks like he agrees with me, Arriaga thought. He’d never thought that the agent might turn out to be sympathetic. Hard, professional, cool and calculating, yes, but not sympathetic. But then, maybe this guy had a wife and daughter at home, too. Everybody reacted pretty much alike where violent crime was involved, he was discovering.
The agent rose to leave. Wendy stopped him. “What do you think, Mr. Roeland? I mean, when do you think you might know something?” She would not let herself consider the ultimate ramifications of the agent’s theory. If someone had taken poor Amanda for purposes of revenge, then they might not find her… might not find her….
She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Arriaga was there instantly, enveloping her in his arms, comforting her.
The agent waited respectfully until the sobbing slowed. “I’ve no way of knowing, Mrs. Ramirez. I wish I could be more informative, but you must understand that I’ve only just been assigned to this case and have only now arrived here. I haven’t even begun my work, really.
“The first thing I’ll do is inform Houston that in my opinion we have a real kidnapping on our hands here. Your daughter’s description will go out nationwide, though our efforts will naturally be concentrated in this area. We work closely with all local law enforcement agencies, as Sheriff Benbrook can tell you. Hopefully we’ll have something soon. As soon as we know anything at all you’ll be informed.” He glanced at Arriaga, then took Wendy’s right hand in his own, patted it gently.
“Keep in mind that we don’t know exactly who abducted your daughter or why, or even if that’s what happened. My suppositions are no more than that. So there is no reason for you to be conjuring up gruesome scenarios until we know something for certain. If she was kidnapped the people who did it might have been drunk rather than coldly calculating. They may have sobered up, realized what they were getting themselves into, and dumped her quickly and unharmed. It’s … difficult for your daughter to get around. If she was dumped in a rural area it might take her a long time to attract attention or make her way to the side of a busy road. She might be sitting in a gas station right now trying to borrow a dime to make a phone call with. Or she might be on her way to a hospital to be treated for nothing worse than exposure.” He pointed at the telephone.
“The best thing you can do for her now is to stay here and wait for some word from her or from my people. If the kidnappers get in touch with you, stay calm, tell them you’ll do whatever they want, and then get back to me. I’ll handle things from there.
“Keep in mind that I’ve been in on cases like this one before, Mrs. Ramirez. The Bureau’s rate of success in kidnappings is very high, much better than you’d be led to believe by the media. You can reach me through the sheriff’s office.”
Arriaga nodded and escorted them to the door. Wendy trailed behind, still turning the crochet-work over and over in her hands. They stood in the portal and watched as Benbrook and the agent climbed into the sheriff’s car and pulled away from the curb.
XV
Jake waited until the last moment before stepping off the bus. None of his fears were realized, however. There were no anxious men standing outside the Dairy Queen waiting for him.
Port Lavaca was a small town population-wise, but spread out. After orienting himself he had to hitch two separate rides before he felt close enough to his niece’s house to go the rest of the way on foot. So long as he watched himself and maintained a slow pace, his heart gave him no trouble.
