Bill called the bank manager, Mr. Ken Calvert, who’d said Mrs. McCall had withdrawn a substantial amount of cash but bank-customer confidentiality prevented him from giving Bill any more information-even in his law enforcement capacity. Although Calvert said he could tell the deputy that he understood it was being used to consummate a real estate deal.
As far as Bill was concerned, it all pointed back to the kidnapping theory. He believed Luke was being held hostage somewhere, and Kate, he believed, was in trouble-needed his help, but was too afraid to contact him. He was pumped thinking about it, standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom getting dressed, looking at himself, his face with the confident grin. He was wearing his uniform pants and a white T-shirt. He turned sideways and flexed his right arm, the biceps rolling up, making a muscle. He looked strong. He was strong. He could bench-press 325 pounds. Do it five times.
He slipped on a Point Blank Pro Plus vest. It was their top-of-the-line body armor, designed to stop a. 357 Magnum 158-grain round, a 240-grain. 44 Magnum, and even a 148-grain. 762 Nato round fired by an M16. Only thing it couldn’t handle was a 30.06. If one of the kidnappers had a big bore rifle he was out of luck, but he seriously doubted that would be the case.
He put his uniform shirt on over the vest, buttoned it and tucked it in his pants. He strapped his black leather Safariland duty belt around his waist. Fully loaded it weighed fourteen pounds and had everything he needed: his ASP tactical baton, two sets of handcuffs, two extra magazines for his Glock, flashlight, key keeper and pepper spay. The pepper spray had an aerosol projector for long-range deployments, which meant he could blind a perp from fifteen feet or more. He unhooked his holster and drew his Glock 21, pointed it at the mirror image of himself.
He’d cleaned the gun the night before, dipped a patch in solvent and passed a jag through the bore to loosen the fouling. The barrel was still dirty, so he did it again. Then he’d dipped a phosphor brush in solvent and scrubbed the forcing cones, ejectors and slides where a lot of powder residue had built up, working it until everything was nice and clean. He’d popped in the magazine, pulled back the slide and loaded a hollow point in the throat.
He looked at himself in the mirror again, nodded his approval and walked out of his trailer where the mud-splattered cruiser was parked. He made a mental note to get it washed. He was a Leelanau County sheriff ’s deputy, and as such, he had to portray a positive image.
He opened the trunk, took out his Hi-Standard Flite King twelve-gauge and loaded it with five Hevi-Shot Nitro Magnum shells. He closed the trunk, got in the car, put the shotgun on the floor-barrel pointing down. He forgot his hat and went inside to get it.
His stomach was nervous when he got back in the car. The full import of what he was about to do weighing on him now. Should he call for backup? He couldn’t say with absolute certainty that something was actually going to happen. It was all a hunch and if he was wrong, he’d look like a fool. But if he was right, then what?
TWENTY — FIVE
Teddy said, “I never seen so much money in one place in all my days. I’m going to buy me a Ford F250 4? 4 with the extended cab and a set of twenty-inch rims. That is one sweet truck.”
He reminded Kate of a kid on Christmas.
Celeste knelt across from Teddy. She put her pistol on the rug, picking up crisp, just-off-the-press packets of money. The white bands that went around the bills had “$10,000” stamped on them.
“What’re you going to get yourself?” Teddy said.
“Anything I please,” Celeste said.
“That’s the way,” Teddy said. He was eating potato chips out of the bag, drinking a can of Bud. He said, “Hey, know what the best beer in the world is?”
Celeste didn’t acknowledge him, her attention fixed on the money.
“Free beer,” Teddy said.
“What if you don’t like it-it isn’t your brand?” Celeste said.
“Who cares?” Teddy said. “If it’s free, it’s good.”
Kate watched them from the breakfast room while she set the table. Like the two million in front of you, she was thinking. She didn’t care about the money, just wanted them to leave.
Teddy was on his knees on the floor, picking up handfuls of it. He glanced at Kate and said, “Well, I sure am grateful to you for this. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Now, where’s my supper at?”
“It’s cooking,” Kate said.
“Well, hurry it up,” Teddy said. “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a wild boar.”
Celeste got up and sat on one of the leather couches, feeding Leon a pretzel. She said, “Does him yike that? Does him tink it’s nummy? Does him?”
She sat on the edge of a cushion now, patted her thighs, looked at Leon, and said, “Uppy. Come on, uppy.”
Leon looked at her like she was crazy and then thought what the hell and lifted his front paws up. She grabbed them and said, “Thay, thay, thay…”
Then Celeste let go of Leon’s paws and slid off the couch on her knees, hugging the dog who went down and rolled over on his back, pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Celeste scratched his chest and rubbed his neck. “Him’s tha big man, yeth him ith, yeth him ith.”
Leon rolled over and got back on his feet and Celeste gave him another pretzel. She said, “Him’s a cooter, ithn’t him?” She took his head in her hands and rubbed it. “Yeth him ith. Yeth him ith.”
Teddy took a swig of beer and said, “Why’re you talking in that stupid fucking voice? God, that’s annoying.”
Celeste said, “You’re annoying. You don’t like it, don’t listen.”
Jack was on the other side of the room by himself, sitting in a leather chair, cuffed to a belly chain. He looked helpless. Kate met his gaze, thinking, you brought this on yourself, don’t look at me for sympathy.
She went back in the kitchen and flipped the burgers that were sizzling, grease popping in a fourteen-inch skillet. She’d made six patties from a two-pound mixture of round and chuck. Teddy’d said he was hungry and told her to get her ass in the kitchen and make them supper. Her real motivation was to feed Luke, who said he hadn’t eaten much in three days.
Kate heated up a couple cans of Bush’s beans and made potato salad with red skins and celery and red onion mixed with oil and mayo. She was thinking about the scene in the yard as she watched the meat fry-the situation tense till Luke diffused it: Mom, just do what they want, will you?
After they released Luke she led them to the pump house, a log structure that looked like a mini version of the lodge and had a well inside. The pump house was in plain sight, nestled between the yard and the woods. She opened the door and there was the money stacked on the floor. She’d parked in the woods and unloaded it.
DeJuan said to Jack, “What’s the matter with you? Money right here, Jack still looking for clues.”
Jack said, “You got it, don’t you? What’s the problem?”
They’d turned on him after that, like it was their plan all along. DeJuan brought the chain from his car and cuffed Jack on the spot.
DeJuan said, “Check it out-Hiatt-Thompson belly chain, answer to all your security needs. Meets US National Institute of Justice tests for workmanship, strength and tamper resistance.”
He glanced at Teddy and said, “Best of all, it’s made right here in the good ole US of A.”
Kate was thinking a belly chain could’ve come in handy with the neighborhood men who’d hit on her-lock them down and send them home to their wives.
Jack said, “What is this?”
DeJuan said, “This payback, motherfucker.” He pulled on the chain. “How that feel? Feel like you back in the joint, I can see it.”
Teddy said, “We’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“Jack,” DeJuan said, “he not loyal to no one but his self.”