“Does it need vetting?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Are they just covering their butts?”
“I didn’t say that either,” Macy replied.
“We’re on our way.”
“Problems?” Ramona asked as she picked up her luggage.
Ellie smiled. “We’ve been called into work. I’ll tell you about it on the drive.”
“Another Friday evening shot to hell,” Ramona said cheerfully as she followed Ellie to her unit.
Much more than three hours passed while Detective Bill Price waited in his unit with all the windows down so that no outside sound would go unnoticed. Every ten minutes he checked in with his team by radio. All the entrances were covered, two detectives were constantly circling the estate perimeter in units looking for any sign of movement, and an officer was on station at the bottom of the hill ready to stop, ID, and question the destination of any drivers entering the street.
Price checked the time as he unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. The night breeze whispered through the trees, soft and soothing, and a full moon flung tangled webs of shadows from the branches across the roadway.
The distant sound of rotors made Price stiffen, listen intently, and look up at the empty sky through the windshield.
He got out and did a three-sixty scan. Tall trees blocked his line of sight in every direction.
The sound grew closer and a helicopter broke into view, traveling fast, descending quickly, veering toward the estate.
Price decided he couldn’t wait for Macy’s call. He reached into the car and grabbed the microphone. “Go, go, go,” he yelled. “Stop that chopper.”
Car engines roared to life, entrance gates opened, and police cars barreled onto the grounds from three directions, converging on the house. Price swerved around the lead car and braked hard by the front door just in time to see the chopper rise above the rooftop, displaying only the tail boom and rear fins as it flew away.
His cell phone rang. He took a deep breath to swallow his frustration and answered.
“You’re good to go,” Macy said.
Price watched the flashing anticollision beacon on the upper fin of the chopper recede in the sky. “It’s too late. A helicopter just picked her up.”
“Dammit,” Macy said. “You’re sure of that?”
“It just left, Lieutenant. We’re at the house now, but we haven’t searched it yet.”
“Do it,” Macy snapped. “I’ll notify all the area airports and local police departments.”
Price thought about LAX and Burbank, which weren’t that far by air, Santa Barbara just minutes away, and all the other, smaller fields Spalding could land at before any cops could get there in time. It seemed hopeless.
“Ten-four,” he said.
“Did you ID the chopper?” Macy asked.
“Negative, I couldn’t read the markings.”
“Dammit,” Macy said, this time with more feeling. “Seal that place off and search every inch of it. I’ll take care of the warrant affidavit. I want to know exactly what Spalding took with her.”
“Roger that.” Price put the cell phone away, gathered his team, and began the search.
The only person they found on the premises was Glenn Davitt, the estate manager, waiting for them in his quarters. He cheerfully admitted that he’d seen Claudia fly away.
“Did she say where she was going?” Price asked.
“No,” Davitt replied, “just that her arrest had all been a big mistake.”
“Were you with her when she arranged for the helicopter?”
Davitt shook his head. “I didn’t even know about it until it landed.”
“But you saw her leave.”
“Yeah.”
“What air charter company did she use?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“What was she carrying?”
“Two bags and a briefcase.”
“Did you see her pack?”
“No.”
“Where’s the housekeeper?” Price asked.
“She gave herself the night off.”
“But you stayed here. Why?”
“Look, I didn’t help Claudia, if that’s what you mean. And even if I had, like I said, she told me everything was cool and you guys had fucked up.”
Price didn’t believe one word of it. Pissed beyond belief, Price told Davitt he would be held as a material witness.
“What does that mean?” Davitt asked.
“You’re going to jail, and you’ll stay there until you’re called to appear at Spalding’s trial.”
“When will that be?”
Price smiled wickedly. “Who knows? Months, maybe. It depends on how long it takes to find her. What air charter company did she use?”
“Valley Air, out of Burbank.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard,” Price said as he dialed Lieutenant Macy’s number.
“Do I still have to go to jail?” Davitt asked.
“Maybe not.”
The full moon Kerney left behind in Santa Fe was hidden by a bleak night sky and a light wind that carried a mist of rain across the river into Arlington. A warm glow came through the windows of the house, and the exterior light was on in anticipation of his arrival.
He paid the cabbie and carried his bags inside just as Sara stepped out of the kitchen. He could feel the grin on his face spread the moment he saw her. Barefoot, dressed in shorts and a halter top that showed the flat muscles of her stomach, her long, slender legs, and the rise of her breasts, she hurried to him and he held her tight, smelling her scent.
After a long look at Patrick, sound asleep in his crib, they sat in the kitchen, Sara sipping wine and Kerney a glass of iced tea. They talked idly, comfortably, about small matters.
Kerney told her of his faulty attempt to build the rock retaining wall at the ranch, and described in detail the horses he’d bought. Sara told him Patrick was about to start teething, and that she was planning to have the old-fashioned radiators enclosed to protect him from accidental burns.
Later, with the bedsheets tangled at their feet, pillows pushed aside onto the floor, damp legs intertwined, Sara talked more about their son. How he was starting to say words, how he would sit quietly and stare at the pages in his picture books.
“He’s already reading and talking,” Kerney said. “What a genius. Do the three of us have the weekend together?”
Sara reached for the pillows, brought them up to the bed, and yawned sleepily. “We do.”
She ran her foot along Kerney’s leg and snuggled close. In the darkness, he listened until her breathing slowed into the quiet rhythm of sleep.
A cooperative Glenn Davitt supplied Price with phone numbers where Cora, the housekeeper, and Sheila, the personal assistant, could be reached. After making contact with them by phone, Price sent detectives to fetch them. Once they arrived, he had them show him the secret places where the Spaldings kept their important papers, cash, and valuables.
Cora took him to the hidden safes in the walk-in closets off the master bedroom. In the library, Sheila opened a sliding wall panel that concealed another safe.
All of them were locked, and since Price and his team didn’t know diddly about safecracking, he called in an expert, which meant waiting for the guy to show.
Once they were opened, Price found the closet jewelry safes had been cleaned out. Inside the library wall safe were insurance policies, prior year tax returns, real estate documents, car titles, personal property inventories, and current year quarterly investment statements.
One of the insurance polices carried a three-million-dollar jewelry endorsement. Appended to it was a list of the items with an appraised replacement value for each. A thick envelope contained photographs of the jewelry and watches. He called Lieutenant Macy.
“From what the housekeeper could tell me, Spalding packed casual traveling clothes. I don’t know how much money she has with her, or if she took her passport, but she cleaned out three million dollars in jewelry that can be pawned or sold for cash. I’ve got photographs of the jewelry we can circulate.”
“There’s a BOLO and fugitive warrant out on her,” Macy said. “Customs, the Mexican authorities, and Interpol have been alerted. Valley Air dropped her off at Burbank, where a car was waiting. We don’t know yet who picked her up or where they went.”