“No?” I said.
“I’m one of the last tough, old-fashioned broads,” she said.
“I see.”
She turned on her heel. “Or maybe I should say, a hard-core bitch.”
I had to laugh. “It’s going to be a long afternoon, isn’t it?”
“With this mess?” she said. “You’re dreaming if you think we’re going to wrap it up in an afternoon.”
Swanders arrived, along with another prosecutor and one of the higher-ups from the FBI. He was a small, quiet man who didn’t say much, but his face darkened considerably when I told him what I suspected of Agent Thaddeus Cody. Swanders avoided eye contact with me for most of the meeting. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me or embarrassed that he’d been so clueless about so much. Probably those two emotions went hand in hand.
When they were done with Julie and me, Winters opened the door to call in Joe. I felt bad for him; it had to have been a long, tedious wait. Once Joe was inside, Winters stepped back into the lobby and asked Julie where Betsy was.
“She’s with her grandfather,” Julie said. “Someplace safe.”
“Mrs. Weston, I simply cannot have that. I cannot have either of you in an undisclosed location, and I’m afraid I must provide you with police security for the time being. I’m going to have to request that you stay in a hotel here in the city where we can see you have adequate protection.”
“That’s fine,” Julie said, as if she had absolutely no problem trusting her safety to the police. I tried not to stare at her.
“Now, if you’ll tell me where your daughter is, I’ll have an officer dispatched to pick her up and bring her here.”
Julie frowned. “With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t like that idea. The upcoming days are going to be very hard on my daughter, and I don’t need them to begin with a police officer taking her away from her grandfather. If you want us to stay at a hotel, let Lincoln drive me back to get my daughter and bring her in myself.”
Winters didn’t like it, but she didn’t fight it. “I want her brought to the Marriott by the airport as soon as possible,” she told me. “We’ll have officers waiting there, and they’ll have a room ready for you. When you’re settled in, we’ll talk again.”
“Should we wait on Joe?” I asked.
Winters rolled her eyes. “I know he’s your partner, Perry, but I think you can handle playing taxi without him. Go get the girl and bring them both to the Marriott. I’ll keep your partner safe.”
“If it’s just going to be the two of you in there, at the very least, let me leave him an extra gun.”
“Go get the girl, Mr. Perry.” She stepped back into the conference room and closed the door.
I drove Julie back to the cottage. On the way, she asked for more details about our meeting with Belov. I told her only that he’d promised to see that she and Betsy weren’t harmed. I did not discuss the methods Belov would likely use to ensure their safety.
“Did you get a chance to talk to John without Betsy around?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And does he know you’re planning to leave?”
“Yes.”
I glanced away from the highway and looked at her. “And when are you planning to leave, Julie?”
“Tomorrow.”
I put my eyes back on the road. “I see.”
We were silent then until we returned to the cottage. I parked behind Kinkaid’s car, and as I shut the truck off he stepped onto the deck and waved. I turned to Julie.
“He’s going to want to talk to you,” I said. “And I’m going to give him space to do it. Make it quick, though, because we need to get you and Betsy back into the city before Winters sends out a search party.”
“All right.”
“Lincoln, good to see you, man,” Kinkaid said when we walked into the cottage. He gave me a hearty handshake, but his eyes were locked on Julie. “I was pissed with you and Pritchard at first, because you guys were cutting me out of the loop, but now that I understand what’s been going on, I don’t give a damn about any of that.”
“Hello, Aaron,” Julie said. Betsy jumped off the couch and ran to give her mother a hug. She made a wide circle around Kinkaid.
“Hi, Julie. I’m sure glad to see you,” Kinkaid said, sounding like an awkward teenager on a first date. His freckled face was flushed.
I cleared my throat and looked at John Weston, who was sitting on the couch. “John, can I see you outside for a minute?”
He followed me out. I didn’t want to leave Julie alone with Kinkaid, but I was even less interested in hanging around to listen to him gush about his feelings for her, which would surely begin soon enough. I told John about our interview with Winters and her request that Julie and Betsy stay at a hotel under police watch.
“That’s probably a good choice,” he said, averting his eyes. He didn’t say anything about Julie’s planned departure, and I didn’t, either.
“Well, son, I’m old and I’m tired,” he said. “If you’re going to take them back into the city, I’m going to go home. Have Julie call me from the hotel, would you? I’ll see them again tomorrow.”
I told him I would, and he shook my hand and limped off to his Buick. I didn’t want to go back in the house and deal with Kinkaid and Julie yet, so I climbed in my truck and began sorting aimlessly through the things I’d taken from the Contour and dumped into the back of the cab.
A manila folder was lying on the floor where I’d tossed it. Hartwick’s personnel file. I still hadn’t looked at it. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. There was no real need to research his background now, but I had it, and I was trying to kill time. I got to the page of references from his employee application and stopped, my eyes locked on the third name.
“I knew there was a reason not to trust you, asshole,” I said aloud. The third name on Randy Hartwick’s list of references was Aaron Kinkaid. Even more interesting was Kinkaid’s job title at the time of the nearly decade-old application: chief of security, Richard Douglass and Associates. Kinkaid had worked for Jeremiah Hubbard’s attorney.
I walked up on the deck and looked inside. Kinkaid was standing in the kitchen, talking to Julie, while Betsy sat at the table. I stood there for a while, watching them, wondering about what he knew and how long he’d known it. It was time for—as Randy Hartwick had suggested with his last breath—a little answer-sharing. I didn’t realize until I reached for the door that my hands were clenched into fists.
“Hey, Aaron,” I said as I stepped inside, “I hate to interrupt, but I’ve got a few things I need to explain to you. You mind?”
“Hell, no, man. You’re the boss.” He followed me into one of the little bedrooms. When we were alone, his face opened in a wide smile and he slapped me on the shoulder.
“Good to see you again, Perry. Pritchard and I were a little concerned about you while you were down south.”
I smiled back at him and hit him once in the jaw with a stiff left jab. It backed him up and jarred him, but he got his hands up to protect his face. I kicked him in the groin, then caught him behind the ear with a hard right as he dropped. He landed on all fours, then went down on the floor and curled up, gasping for breath. I pulled Hartwick’s personnel file from my jacket and threw it on the floor beside his face.
“Chief of security for Richard Douglass and Associates, eh? That’s real nice, Kinkaid. You told us you never met Jeremiah Hubbard. I find that a little harder to believe now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he wheezed. He was sliding his left hand under his shirt. I kicked him in the stomach, then reached inside his shirt and removed the snubnose .32 he had in a shoulder holster. Apparently he’d left the Colt Python home for something a little more discreet today. I threw the gun across the room, pulled him into a sitting position, and slapped him hard in the face. I didn’t want to make enough noise to alarm Julie and Betsy, but I was going to get some answers from Kinkaid.