"They'll want to talk to you."
She nodded. "I'll be here."
Teddy didn't like the looks of the kid. A scared shitless golden boy. "Are you going to puke? Do it out the window. I don't want you stinking up the car."
Kyle Castellane's big brown eyes widened. "Don't shoot me."
"Jesus Christ, relax, will you? The gun's to keep you in line. I won't shoot you unless you do something stupid. If you're smart, you'll be fine. Okay? Just do what I say."
"You have grenades."
"Mostly flash-bangs. They're mainly for show. The frag grenades are the ones that do the real damage."
The kid was close to hyperventilating. "I should have stayed in my apartment and called the police. I never should have run after you-"
"Water over the dam, pal. Stop thinking about it. You thought your old man was a killer."
"I didn't!"
"I wouldn't want to admit it, either."
When Kyle came flying out of the café and tried to stop a moving BMW, Teddy had considered running the kid over. The show on the docks was intended to put the fear of God into Luke Castellane and make him reconsider the bonus. Now he had Luke's kid. Funny how things worked out.
You have the plan. Things happen.You revise the plan.
Luke had already called. Teddy was worried about the police tracing his cell phone signal, but decided they hadn't gotten that far yet-the phone was in Luke's name. Luke had loaned it to him when he hired him last week. He wanted Teddy to drive to the Olivia West Nature Preserve and await further instructions-like he was still the one in charge, never mind Teddy had his kid. At least Luke's voice had sounded more strangled than usual.
The lousy weather was keeping the leaf-peepers away, and it was still very early. A month ago, Teddy would have been burrowed in his lumpy bed at Bruce's cottage.
He pulled into the gravel lot. No one, not even any staff, was around yet. But he didn't like it-there was only that one dirt road in and out of the place.
"If the cops bother us, you're going to tell them we're cool, right?" Teddy fingered the grip of his Llama. A damn fine gun, except it was unregistered and as a convicted felon, he wasn't supposed to have guns. "I picked you up on the docks this morning. You wanted to interview me for your documentary. We heard the flash-bang go off and decided the harbor was under attack and got the hell out of there. Didn't see anything."
Kyle stopped hyperventilating long enough to give Teddy a sour look. The kid's face looked like hell, the bruises all blue and yellow and purple now, very ugly. "Why would I want to interview you? So you could tell me how you killed Patrick West and Olivia West?"
"Nobody killed Olivia West. She died of old age. She was a hundred and one, for Christ's sake. You tell that shit to the cops, you'll find out how fast a bullet travels two feet right into your stupid head. Actually," he added, as a point of interest, "I should aim for center mass. Bigger target. Still deadly."
"I've got my own money," Kyle said. "I can pay you."
"Not as much as your daddy can."
And as if on cue, Teddy's cell phone rang.
"I'll bring your bonus in cash," Luke said, still in that weird, strangled voice. "Meet me on the beach where Patrick West was killed."
"What're you doing, bringing the Zodiac?" It was a small, fast, maneuverable boat that Luke had aboard his yacht for short excursions-Luke had never used it that Teddy knew. "In this weather?"
"I'll be there."
Teddy looked around. He still didn't like the location. "Let me pick out the place-"
"No. You'll get caught. Do as I say."
"All right. Deal. And just in case you want to play games, say hi to your boy."
Teddy shoved the phone at the kid, who didn't cooperate. "Dad-Dad, he's a fuck. Don't do it. He's got guns."
"Asshole," Teddy said, and put the phone back to his ear. "Nice to know the kid cares, isn't it, Luke? The FBI loves kidnapping cases, but I'd leave McGrath out of this deal. I see one cop-state, local or fed, current, ex or on vacation-and your boy's dead."
This time it was Teddy's turn to hang up.
First, money. Then Stick Monroe. Get it all done in one day.
He glanced at the kid. "Probably should have put your shoes on before you ran out. Come on, we've got to take a little hike in the rain."
"Don't hurt my dad. I know he's an asshole, but he-"
"Yeah, yeah. Let's get moving. It's payday."
Thirty-One
"What a crazy bastard," Bruce said, shaking his head after he discovered his junked rowboat was, indeed, missing. "He could have sunk and drowned. Anyone could have seen him out on the water in a leaky rowboat."
J.B. nodded. The drizzle had let up, but the fog was starting to roll in, adding to his overall sense of foreboding. " Shelton doesn't necessarily think things through."
"Like that guy who stuck a knife in your throat?" "Yeah, Bruce. Like him." Bruce shrugged. "Sorry. That was tactless."
J.B. stood on the water's edge, the horizon no longer visible through the encroaching fog. The bright fall leaves-yellow-leafed birches, red-leafed maples-pen-etrated the grayness, and he could hear gulls but couldn't see them, couldn't place where they were. He'd checked his messages on his way down here. Sally Meintz had called to tell him she'd worked until 2:00 a.m. on his little mission and that Luke Castellane collected expensive weapons. She'd had to dig deep to find that one out.
"Christ, you've got your FBI face on," Bruce said. "Mind if I take a look around my cottage, see if Teddy camped out there last night?"
"Bruce, you don't need my permission." J.B. sighed. "Yeah, go ahead. Let me know if you find anything. I'll try to get hold of Chief Jacobs."
"If I find anything, you'll be the first to know. I'm a simple lobsterman. You're armed."
He headed off, looking as much a part of the landscape as the spruce trees and rocks. J.B. watched the water lap right to the edge of his shoes and felt absolutely no connection between this moment and his life two months ago. How the hell did he get here?
Posey, tell me you don't miss Maine. Tell me a part of you doesn't hate your husband for taking you away from here.
J.B. thought about his father, who could no more imagine life away from Montana than Olivia West could imagine life away from the southern coast of Maine. Zoe wasn't like that, he thought. That was what she'd bring to Jen Periwinkle-he'd seen that in the pages he'd read, however unpolished and awkward. It was what she was meant to do.
An old Taurus sedan rolled into the lobster pound lot.
Betsy O'Keefe climbed out, waving gingerly at J.B. as she walked down to the water, hugging her heavy sweater tightly around her. "Zoe said you'd be out here." She was shaking, her lower lip trembling. "She's talking to the police for me. I didn't want-she said they'd want to talk to me, too, but I can't. Not yet."
"Luke collects guns," he said.
She nodded.
"He thinks one of them was used to kill Patrick West."
"A.357 Colt Python." Her voice was calm but grim, as if she was telling someone they had cancer. "It was stolen last fall. He didn't report it."
"Tell me about Stick Monroe. He's Luke's friend and Zoe's mentor, but he knew about Shelton and did nothing. He's savvy, a retired judge. He had to know Luke's arrangement with Shelton was dangerous."
"He warned Luke-"
"When?"
"The other day, after Zoe got here."
J.B. looked out at the Atlantic. The tide was out, the low-tide smells ripe in the air. "Everyone around here says Olivia West was a great observer of people in her hometown. I think you're a lot like her, Betsy."
"I'm not," she said. "I don't have any instincts about people. I just-" She swallowed, refusing to go on. "I'm worried about Kyle. He hasn't turned up."
J.B. nodded. "I'm worried about him, too."
"Stick-" She turned away, which J.B. read as reluctance to say more than she should, not because she was contemplating outright deception. Betsy O'Keefe was accustomed to keeping confidences, by training, experience and nature. "Stick Monroe 's a powerful figure around here. People respect and admire him, but they also like him. He took Zoe under his wing. He was Olivia's friend, Patrick's friend. He's not a wealthy man."