But he didn't think that was the case.
And neither, he knew, did Jeremy.
"So what's he say?" Maureen asked.
Barry took a deep breath, and told her.
The FBI agent, Thorn Geddes, arrived the next morning after calling ahead an hour, then a half hour, and then fifteen minutes before. Both Barry and Maureen were pacing nervously, awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he pulled into the driveway they were unlocking the front door.
Introductions were short, formal, businesslike. The agent clearly wanted to get started on his investigation and to complete it as soon as possible. He seemed capable, competent, and above all, a legitimate representative of the United States' premier law enforcement agency, with un limited power and resources at his disposal--which gave Barry a feeling of relief and renewed hope.
Geddes looked down at the electronic notebook in his hand. "As I
understand it, Dylan Andrews, Chuck Carlin, and Danna Carlin were guests of yours. Two days ago, Mr. Andrews went missing, and Mr. and Mrs. Carlin disappeared sometime between that night and the following morning. Because of various incidents and confrontations that you have had with the Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association, you suspect that this organization is behind the disappearances. Is this correct?"
Barry looked at Maureen, then nodded. "Yes, it is."
"Good. I will pay a visit to--" He looked at his notebook. "--Jasper Calhoun, and interview Mr. Calhoun about these disappearances."
Barry didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this immediate and straightforward course of action, and the blunt honesty of the agent threw him for a moment. "Can I... come with you?" he asked.
"No!" Maureen said.
"If you wish," Geddes replied, turning off his notebook.
Barry looked over at Maureen. "I need to be there."
"Like hell!"
He put his hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes. "They're not going to kill or kidnap an FBI agent. I'll be perfectly safe. This is my opportunity to confront that bastard."
"I just--"
"I know."
Geddes pretended to ignore them.
"I need to hear what he says," Barry told her. "I need to see his face. These are our friends. I can't just... abandon them. I have to be there."
Maureen took a deep breath, nodded. "Okay."
The agent cleared his throat. "I will be conducting the interview.
You--" He looked at Barry. "--may observe."
"Gotcha."
Maureen kissed him. "Find out where they are," she said.
He let her go, moved away, motioned toward the door. "I know where Calhoun lives," he told the agent. "I can take you there."
"I'll drive," Geddes said in a flat voice. "And we'll take my car. You can direct me to the house."
The phone rang, and Maureen answered it. Barry and the FBI agent were just about to walk outside when she shoved the phone at him. Her hand was trembling, her face pale. "It's for you," she said. "It's him"
Barry stopped, put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Barry." He recognized the stentorian tones of Jasper Calhoun. "Our man at the gate told me that a federal law enforcement agent has come to visit you. I assume this is in regard to your missing friends."
No one had told Calhoun about his missing friends. How had he--?
Hitman.
"Yes," he said, keeping his voice calm. "That is correct."
"Well, the homeowners' association would like to cooperate in any way possible. I'm at the community center right now. If the agent would like to speak with me for any reason, I will be at this location for the next hour or so."
For any reason? Calhoun knew damn well why they wanted to talk to him, and Barry thought of those comic book villains who tried to play mind games with the men who were trying to capture them, who considered life some sort of elaborate chess game.
"We're on our way," Barry said shortly, and hung up. He looked from Maureen to Geddes. "He's at the community center at the bottom of the hill."
The agent nodded. "Let's go."
Calhoun was indeed at the community center, seated in front of the hall at the same table he had occupied during the annual meeting, looking as though he had never left. The room was empty and dark, all of the chairs gone, a pasty gray light filtering in through a small square of skylight in the middle of the ceiling. The president faced the deserted clubhouse, and Barry could not for the life of him figure out why the man was here or what he could possibly be doing all alone in the building.
The lights switched on before they were halfway across the floor, and Calhoun was standing, moving out from in back of the table, stepping off the platform. He was smiling broadly, an expression of false cheer on his face, and he led with an outstretched hand. "I'm Jasper Calhoun, president of the Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association."
He and Geddes shook, and once again Barry was struck by the man's odd, almost inhuman, appearance. He hoped that the agent had taken note of it as well.
As before, Geddes was all business. There was no small talk, only a few introductory remarks, and then his electronic notebook was open and he was asking questions.
Calhoun had come prepared. Barry had to give him that. After denying knowledge of everything the FBI agent asked, after accounting for his whereabouts and the whereabouts of the other board members during the disputed time periods and offering to provide surveillance videotapes to back up his claims, after effectively blunting all possible suspicions, the president picked up a series of charts and graphs from the table at which he'd been sitting and started quoting the remarkably low crime rates consistently posted by Bonita Vista.
"I'm as anxious as you are to have this situation resolved," Calhoun said earnestly. "Any crime, especially an unsolved crime, reflects badly on Bonita Vista and is a blot on our sterling record. To be perfectly frank, one of my duties as a board member is damage control, public relations, and this is a nightmare for us. As I'm sure Mr.
Welch will confirm, we are very concerned about our image and take extraordinary measures to make sure that our community is not only safe but perceived as safe by both residents and nonresidents. In fact, I believe Mr. Welch and his wife had some personal experience with the efficient way in which we deal with lawbreakers and troublemakers. Mrs. Welch was harassed by a disgruntled ex-employee, and two members of our security committee detained him until the sheriff could arrive to arrest him. The association was willing to press charges and to make sure that Mrs. Welch never had to testify in court or see the man again." He spread his hands. "This is an example of the service we provide for our residents and the extent to which we will go in order to preserve and protect our reputation."
He sounded good, Barry admitted. Hell, if he didn't know better, he'd probably believe the story.
"It wasn't just one lone criminal. We have also been harassed by the association," Barry said. He pointed at Calhoun "You and your cronies have fined us and intimidated us and repainted our house and re landscaped our property."
The president smiled sympathetically.
"Do you deny citing us for violating a rule that bans minorities from staying in Bonita Vista?"
"Homeowners' associations do necessarily have rules and regulations that all of its residents must follow."
"Illegal, discriminatory rules?"
Calhoun looked at Geddes. "Life is a little different within a gated community, particularly one that is located in an unincorporated area, where the homeowners' association must furnish the sort of services and protection ordinarily provided by government agencies. Are you familiar with homeowners' associations at all, Agent Geddes?"