I hung up and went to dress.
There are few creatures on earth more pigheaded than cops. I can say this with surety, because I am one. I may no longer have carried a badge, but that isn't what being a cop means. Being a cop is in the nature, in the bones. A cop is a cop, regardless of status, regardless of uniform, regardless of agency, regardless of age.
I understood Landry because we were related by calling. I didn't like him, but I understood him. I suspected he understood me on one level as well as anyone could. He wouldn't admit to it, and he didn't like me, but he knew where I stood.
I pulled on a pair of tan slacks and a black sleeveless T-shirt. The phone rang again as I was strapping on my watch.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"I don't want you coming to my house."
"Why not? Are you selling crack? Fencing stolen goods? What are you afraid of?"
I didn't want my sanctuary breached, but I wouldn't tell him that. Never willingly reveal a vulnerability to an adversary. My reluctance was telling enough. I gave him the address and cursed myself for giving him that tiny victory.
"I'll be there in thirty," he said, and hung up.
I buzzed him through the gate in twenty-three.
"Nice digs," Landry said, looking at Sean's house.
"I'm a guest." I led the way from the parking area near the barn toward the guest house.
"It pays to know people who don't live in cardboard boxes and eat out of Dumpsters."
"Is that your social circle?" I asked. "You could aim a little higher. You live at the marina, after all."
He gave me the look-suspicious, offended I would have knowledge of him without his permission. "How do you know that?"
"I checked you out. Idle hands and the World Wide Web…"
He didn't like that at all. Good. I wanted him to know I was smarter than he was.
"Your blood type is AB negative, and you voted Republican in the last election," I said, opening my front door. "Coffee?"
"Do you know how I take it?" he asked sarcastically.
"Black. Two sugars."
He stared at me.
I shrugged. "Lucky guess."
He stood on the other side of the kitchen peninsula with his arms crossed over his chest. He should have been on a recruiting poster. Starched white shirt with thin burgundy stripes, blood-red tie, the aviator shades, the military posture.
"You look like a fed," I commented. "What's up with that? Agency envy?"
"Why are you so curious about me?" he asked, irritated.
"Knowledge is power."
"So this is some kind of game to you?"
"Not at all. I just like to know who I'm dealing with."
"You know me as well as you're going to," he said. "Fill me in on the Seabrights."
I played the videotape for him and told him what had happened the night before at the Seabright house. He didn't bat an eye at any of it.
"You think the stepfather has some kind of angle on this?" he asked.
"There's no question how he feels about Erin, and it's certainly strange the way he's handled things so far. I don't like his connections. But if this kidnapping is staged and he's a party to it, why be secretive with the tape? I don't get that."
"Control, maybe," Landry said, running the tape back and playing it again. "Maybe he waits until it's over and the girl is dead, then he shows the tape to the wife and tells her how he was protecting her from the awful truth and he handled the situation as he thought best."
"Ah, yes. The decisions in the family are left to the person best equipped to make them," I muttered.
"What?"
"The family motto. Bruce Seabright is a serious control freak. Pathological. Egotistical, a bully, psychologically abusive. The family is something out of Tennessee Williams."
"Then it fits."
"Yes," I agreed. "The thing is, this girl existed in a veritable snake pit. I can name three other legitimate suspects."
"Then do."
I told him about Chad Seabright, and told him again about Don Jade.
"And I'm waiting to hear from a connection to Interpol about priors on Tomas Van Zandt. He has a history of bad behavior toward young women, and by all accounts he's as crooked as a dog's hind leg."
"Charming crowd these horse people," Landry said.
"The horse world is a microcosm. The good, the bad; the beautiful, the ugly."
"The haves and have-nots. That's what keeps the prisons full," Landry said. "Jealousy, greed, and sexual perversion."
"Make the world go round."
Landry sighed and backed the tape up again. "And what's your stake in this mess, Estes?"
"I told you. I'm helping out the little sister."
"Why? Why did she come to you?"
"It's a long story that doesn't really matter. I'm in it now, and I'm staying in it to the end. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Yeah, I do," he said, his attention on the television. "But I'm sure that won't stop you."
"No, it won't."
He hit the pause button and squinted at the screen. "Can you make out that tag number?"
"No. I tried. I couldn't make it out on Seabright's tape either. You'll need a technical wizard.
"Look, Landry, I'm already on the inside with Jade's people," I said. "I'm more than willing to work with you. You'd be stupid to take a pass on that. You're a lot of things, I'm sure, but I don't think stupid is one of them."
He gave me a long look, trying to see something beyond what I would allow him to see.
"I've done my homework too," he said. "You're a loose cannon, Estes. You always were, the way I hear it. I don't like that. You think this Seabright guy is a control freak. I consider that a virtue. When I'm on a case, I own it. Period. I don't want to be in this thing and wondering what the hell you're going to pull next. And I can guarantee no one else in the SO is going to stand for that either. My lieutenant finds out you've got your fingers in this, he'll have my ass."
"I can't do anything about that. I am in it, and I'm staying in it. I said I'll work with you, but I don't work for you. You don't control me, Landry. If that's your focus, we have a problem. There's only one goal here: getting Erin Seabright out alive. If you think it's some kind of contest, you can keep your dick in your pants. I'm sure yours is bigger than anybody's, but I don't want to see it. Thanks anyway.
"Now can we get on this?" I asked. "We're burning daylight."
Landry took a beat, then motioned toward the door. "Lead the way. I hope I don't regret this."
I returned his look and his sentiment. "That makes two of us."
B ruce Seabright was not happy to see me. He came to the door himself-no doubt having forbidden everyone else to-dressed for golf in khakis and a tangerine polo shirt. He had the same tasseled loafers as Van Zandt. It was now 8:15 A.M.
"Mr. Seabright, this is Detective Landry with the Sheriff's Office," I said. Landry held up his shield. "He tells me he hasn't heard from you."
"It's Saturday," Seabright said. "I didn't know how early I could call."
"So you thought you'd get eighteen in before you tried?" I asked.
"Ms. Estes tells me your stepdaughter has been abducted," Landry said.
Seabright glared at me. "The kidnappers said no police, so I didn't call the police. I certainly hope Ms. Estes hasn't put Erin in greater danger by bringing you here."
"I don't think this trumps blowing off the ransom drop," I said. "May we come in?"
He stepped back reluctantly, and closed the door behind us lest the neighbors see.
"Have you received any further communication from the kidnappers?" Landry asked as we followed Seabright to the inner sanctum. There was no sign of Krystal. The house was as silent as a mausoleum. I spied Molly crouched in the upstairs hall, peering down at us through the balusters.