“Six,” Susannah said dully. “There are six.”
Luke hung up, barely breathing, trying vainly to remain calm. “No. Pete. Pete.”
Pete came running, a bound notebook in his big hands. “Look what I found behind Grant’s bedroom closet. The wall had a sliding panel, just like in the movies. There have to be a hundred bound volumes just like this one. What’s wrong?”
“Susannah.” He swallowed hard. “I think Bobby is there with her.”
Pete grasped Luke’s shoulder. “Breathe. What exactly did she say?”
“That she and Talia were at her ‘Mama and Daddy’s’ and they had found all ‘Daddy’s’ records and were on their way back, but she was on her speaker phone because her hands were full of things she was taking away to remember her mama.”
Pete swallowed. “Shit.”
And then she said she loved me, like she’d never get the chance to say it again. “I was going to tell her about Paul Houston, but I didn’t know who was listening.”
“Smart.”
Luke nodded. “I’m going out to the Vartanians’.”
“Not smart,” Pete said, then sighed. “So I’ll go with you.”
Luke was already running. “Call Germanio, tell him to arrest Charles Grant.”
Pete closed his car door as Luke peeled way, tires screeching. “What’s the charge?”
“Start with murder of Judge Borenson.”
“We can add extortion,” Pete said, tapping the notebook he’d brought from Grant’s house. “Charles has the dope on every rich man and woman in this town and they were all paying him through the nose to keep their nasty secrets.”
“I’m not surprised, but I don’t think we can use that yet. That notebook isn’t covered by the warrant. Borenson’s murder is enough for now,” Luke added as Pete dialed.
“Hank, it’s Pete. Pick up Charles Grant and bring him-” Pete frowned. “What the fuck do you mean you lost him?”
Luke grabbed Pete’s phone, his foot punching the accelerator. “Where. Is. He?”
“He left the cemetery,” Germanio said, “but headed out of town.”
“And you didn’t goddamn call me? Fuck.”
“I had him in my sights, but he pulled off to a side road and I had to pass him so I didn’t give myself away. When I doubled back… he was gone. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? You’re goddamn sorry?” Breathe. “Where are you now?”
“About five miles from the cemetery, heading back toward town.”
“No, turn around and head for the Vartanians’ house. It’s another few miles, an old antebellum mansion. Talia’s car should be parked out front. Approach silently and wait for me. Bobby’s inside with Susannah and Talia.”
“All right.”
“Germanio, listen to me. You wait for me, okay?” Luke handed Pete his phone. “Damn cowboy. Now Grant knows we know.”
“He’s not the only cowboy,” Pete muttered.
Luke shot him a glare. “What if Ellie were being held captive by a murderer?”
Ellie was Pete’s wife, a tiny, little woman. Pete treated her like spun glass. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked quietly. “Now focus on driving. I’ll call Chase.”
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:35 p.m.
Charles was pissed. He’d had a tail, some clumsy GBI guy who’d been child’s play to lose. But that meant he’d been discovered. They knew. Dammit.
He’d known deep down that it was only a matter of time. He’d tried to stick his finger in the dike when he’d helped Daniel Vartanian catch Mack O’Brien. Mack had been calling lots of unwanted attention to Toby Granville and the other boys.
But all good things must come to an end. He could leave behind no loose ends. Bobby was a loose end. So was his house. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that once the GBI started looking they wouldn’t find his records. Everything truly valuable he carried with him in his ivory box, but the house had to go. He’d tell Paul to burn the sucker down. He dialed Paul’s cell. “I need you in Dutton,” he said.
“Well that’s good,” Paul said, “because that’s just where I’m headed. I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.”
“I told you I couldn’t take calls at the cemetery,” Charles said sternly. “I told you to text me. Even Bobby got that part right.”
“I can’t text and drive at the same time,” Paul said, clearly annoyed at the jab. “I got a call from your alarm system. Somebody’s in your house.”
Charles drew a breath. “What?”
“You heard me. I have the alarm system set to call me and not the security company. Somebody entered your house through the back door at 1:17.”
“I just lost a GBI tail,” Charles said quietly. “They must be searching my house. It’s too late to burn it down. They’ll read my books, they’ll know what I’ve done.”
“So where are you going?” Paul asked, a thread of panic in his voice.
“Mexico, then back to Southeast Asia. But first, I’m going to the Vartanians’. Bobby is there. I need to be sure neither she nor Susannah survives to tell anyone about you. After I’m done, I’ll wait behind the house. You can pick me up and we can drive south. Once I’m in Mexico, you can go back to your life, or you can come with me.”
“I’ll come with you,” Paul said. Of course, Charles had known he would.
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:35 p.m.
Pete closed his phone. “Backup’s coming. Now you need to know what’s in this notebook. You’ll be angry. Just keep your cool, all right?”
“All right,” Luke said carefully. “You said Grant was extorting rich people. Who?”
“Lots of people, but you really want the tale of two judges.”
“Borenson and Vartanian,” Luke said grimly.
“Yep. I found at least fifty of these notebooks in the hidden shelf behind Grant’s closet. They’re alphabetized. He has three V volumes, one for Simon and Arthur, another for Daniel and his mother. Susannah gets her own, and it’s nearly full. Listen.”
Luke listened, his knuckles gone bone white as he clenched the wheel. Black bile churned within him, fury so intense he shook with it. It was unbelievable. Unforgivable. Inhuman. Susannah’s life had been ruined because both Charles Grant and Arthur Vartanian wanted control of a dickwater town that didn’t mean shit. Susannah had been a pawn in a high-stakes game she’d never understood. “My God,” Luke whispered.
“Can we use the books?” Pete asked. “They don’t mention the bunker, but…”
“We have to ask Chloe,” Luke said. Inside he burned. Each breath physically hurt. “Of course, should Charles Grant die in the meantime, it becomes a moot point.”
Pete was quiet for a moment, considering. “So it does. I’ve got your back.”
Luke swallowed hard, moved. “Someday I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
Pete huffed a mirthless chuckle. “Not in this lifetime, pal. Drive faster.”
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:45 p.m.
“None of the Vartanian birthdays I remember are opening this safe,” Susannah said, flinching when Bobby jabbed the butt of the gun into the back of her head.
“Shut up. Just keep dialing, little sister.”
Susannah’s jaw clenched. She’d managed to unlock three of the six upstairs safes. One was empty, one held estate documents, and the third had held Carol Vartanian’s best paste diamonds. Bobby had thought they were real and had chortled over her good fortune. Susannah was not about to disillusion her.
Bobby was storing her loot in Grandmother Vartanian’s tall silver teapot, which seemed critically important. Again, Susannah was not of a mind to try to understand.