Dark Horse

37

Suddenly living in rural Loxahatchee made sense. Secluded, away from the throng of horse people, it was the perfect place to conduct a clandestine affair.

Apparently, Don Jade wasn't the only one in his barn willing to play bedroom games to further his cause. If Trey Hughes was in that house for something other than a discussion of how his horse had gone in the ring that day, then Paris Montgomery had snagged Jade's most affluent patron. With malice aforethought.

Or maybe Jade knew. Perhaps she had his blessing. Perhaps she was Jade's insurance policy for keeping Trey's attention.

My gut said no. I had witnessed no overt displays of affection between Paris and Trey. Their interaction at the barn had appeared to be nothing more than client and trainer.

Paris was a smart, ambitious girl. If Paris made Trey happy, Trey could certainly make Paris happy.

As I drove back to Wellington, I wondered if Paris knew Hughes had been involved with Michael Berne's wife before her. That certainly hadn't insured Michael a place in the posh new stables-or Stella Berne either, for that matter.

I wondered how long the affair had been going on. Hughes had taken his horses to Jade about nine months previous, meaning they had gone up to Jade's barn in the Hamptons for the summer. Trey had likely spent the summer there, soaking up the social swirl. A relationship might have sparked.

Turning these things over in my mind, I drove back to Wellington and swung by Sag Harbor Court.

The Mercedes Trey Hughes had loaned to Van Zandt was parked in the driveway. In the visitor parking spots down the street, two men in shirts and ties sat in a dark Ford Taurus.

Feds.

I parked a couple of slots down from the sedan and approached the vehicle from the front. The guy in the driver's seat rolled his window down.

"FYI guys," I said, "I saw him this morning driving a dark blue Chevy Malibu."

The driver stared at me with cop eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"Tomas Van Zandt. That's who you're supposed to be sitting on, right?"

They looked at each other, then back at me.

"Ma'am? Who are you?" the driver asked.

"I used to be a friend of that prick Armedgian. Tell him I said that."

I left them sitting there like a couple of assholes, watching a car that probably hadn't left the driveway all day.

Tomas Van Zandt was a free man.

Until later…

I put my gun on the passenger seat of my car and drove home to wait.

There was no obvious sign of an intruder in the area of Sean's farm. I knew Sean would not have given Van Zandt the gate code. But my senses were humming just the same.

I parked my car at the barn and checked on the horses, walking down the aisle with gun in hand. I stopped to pet each horse, feeling my tension lessen a fraction at each stall. Oliver wanted to eat the gun. Feliki pinned her ears at me, to remind me who the alpha mare was, then expected a treat. D'Artagnon wanted only to have his neck scratched.

I thought of Erin Seabright as I performed the task, of the way she had laughed at Stellar in the video I'd found in Van Zandt's bedroom. I wondered if she let memories like that one comfort or torment her wherever she was, whatever was happening to her.

I wanted to call Landry and find out what had happened at the drop, but I wouldn't. He wasn't my friend or my confidant. He wouldn't appreciate my need to know. I hoped Molly would have called, but knew she wouldn't be the first to hear whatever news there was. Bruce would have been sent to the drop. Regardless of what transpired, there would be a postmortem of the operation at the Sheriff's Office. And during that time, no one would think or have the courtesy to let Molly know what was going on.

Nothing to do but wait, I thought, then remembered I had Paris Montgomery's cell phone in my car. I retrieved it on the way to the house and sat down with it at the writing desk.

The phone was a Nokia 3390. The voice mail icon indicated she had messages, but I had no way to retrieve them because I didn't know her password. I did know from experience, however, this model of phone automatically stored the last ten numbers dialed.

I scrolled to the last number dialed. "Voice mailbox" appeared in the screen. I scrolled to the next call: Jane L-Cell. The next: Don-Cell.

Headlights flashed in the drive.

It wasn't Sean. I never saw Sean's lights when he drove in because he always went directly into the garage, which was on the far side of the main house.

Irina, perhaps.

Perhaps not.

I set the phone aside, picked up the Glock, turned off the only light I had on in the house, then went to look out the window.

The security light on the end of the stable didn't quite reach the car. But as the driver got out and came toward my house, I could tell by the way he carried himself it was Landry.

My heart beat faster. He would have news. Good or bad, he would have news. I opened the door before he made it to the patio. He stopped and put his hands up, his eyes on the gun still in my hand.

"Don't kill the messenger," he said.

"Is it bad news?"

"Yes."

"Is she dead?"

"Not that we know."

I leaned against the door frame and let go a sigh, feeling relieved and sick at once. "What happened?"

He told me about the drop, the taped message rigged with a timer, the videotape of Erin being beaten.

"My God," I mumbled, rubbing my hands over my face, feeling it on only one side. In that moment, I wished all of me could have been numb. "Oh, my God. That poor kid."

You broke the rules. The girl will pay the price.

Breaking the rules had been my idea. I'd spent my entire life breaking rules and never thinking twice until it was too late. I never seemed to learn that lesson. Now Erin Seabright was paying the price.

I should have done something differently. If I hadn't been such a bully with Bruce Seabright, if I hadn't insisted on bringing the SO into the picture…

If I hadn't been me. If Molly had gone to someone else.

"Don't beat yourself up, Estes," Landry said quietly.

I laughed."But that's one of the few things I do really well."

"No," he murmured.

He was standing very close to me. Our shadows overlapped on the flagstone as the front door light washed down over us. If I'd been a different woman, I might have turned to him in that moment. But I couldn't remember the last time I had offered my vulnerability to anyone. I didn't know how. And I didn't trust Landry not to hand it back.

"It's not all about you," he said. "Sometimes things just play out the way they play out."

I had used those same words with him just twenty-four hours before. "Anything I say can and will be used against me."

"Whatever works."

"Did it work when I fed it to you?"

He shook his head. "No. But I liked the sound of it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

We looked at each other for a little too long, then Landry rubbed the back of his neck and looked past me into the house.

"Can I help myself to your scotch? It's been a hell of a day."

"Sure."

He went to the cabinet and poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey as old as I was, and sipped at it.

I sat on the arm of a chair and watched him. "Where was Jade during the drop?"

"In West Palm, meeting with Jill Morone's parents. They flew down from Buttcrack, Virginia, this afternoon and demanded he meet with them personally."

"And Van Zandt?"

He shook his head, the line of his jaw tightening. "Good call this morning about your FBI friend."

"Armedgian? He's no friend of mine-or yours, I imagine."

"He's suddenly here to 'consult and advise.' His people are sitting on Van Zandt."

"His people are watching a car in a driveway. Van Zandt was out here this morning driving a Chevy."

Landry gave me the eagle eye. "What was he doing out here?"

"Serving me notice, I think."

"He knows it was you in his place last night?"

"Yes. I think so."

"I don't like that."

"Imagine how I feel."

He sipped his scotch and thought. "Well… he wasn't at the drop. We know that."

"That doesn't mean he's not connected to the kidnapping. Or Jade either, for that matter. I'm sure that was half the point of rigging the tape with a timer: so the bad guys could make airtight alibis for the time of the drop."

"That and to punish Seabright."

"They had to know you'd be there. They never had any intention of showing up with or without Erin."

"We still had to go through with it."

"Of course," I said. "But I don't like what it means for Erin. They know now they're not going to get the money. What do they have to gain by keeping her alive? Nothing."

"Fun and games with the riding whip," Landry said. He stared at the floor and shook his head. "Jesus. You should have seen him go at her. If he beat his horses like that, the SPCA would have him locked up."

"Jade?" I said. "I'm sure you know something about him I don't, but I'm having some serious doubts he's our guy."

"You're the one who told me everything came back to him."

"In a way, it does. But in a way that doesn't add up for me. He's sitting pretty professionally with Trey Hughes putting him into that new facility, buying expensive horses for him. Why would he risk that by doing something so outrageous as kidnap Erin?"

"Erin knew something about that horse he killed."

"So why not just get rid of her?" I asked. "This is south Florida. It's the easiest thing in the world to get rid of a body. Why get embroiled in a messy kidnapping plot?"

Landry shrugged. "So he's a psycho. He thinks he's omnipotent."

"I could go for that explanation regarding Van Zandt. But I don't see Jade risking everything on some scheme, and I don't see him partnering with a loose cannon like Van Zandt."

Landry took another sip of the scotch. Trying to decide whether or not to share with me, I thought.

"One of the phone numbers you gave me from Seabright's incoming calls belonged to a prepaid cell phone we traced to the Radio Shack in Royal Palm Beach. We couldn't get an ID from the clerks off Jade's photo, but one of them thinks he took a phone call from a man named Jade, asking him questions about the phones, and asking him to set a phone aside for him."

"Why would Jade do something so stupid?" I said. "He wouldn't."

Landry shrugged. "Maybe he figured a disposable phone would be untraceable, so it wouldn't matter who he talked to."

I got up to pace, shaking my head. "Don Jade hasn't gotten where he is by being an idiot. If he wanted a phone held for him, why not give a phony name? Why not give them just his first name? No. This doesn't make any sense at all."

"It's the lead we have," Landry said defensively. "I'm not going to ignore it. You know as well as I do, criminals fuck up. They get careless. They make mistakes."

"Yeah, well maybe someone made this mistake for him."

"What? You think someone's trying to frame him?"

"It looks that way to me. Jade has more to lose than to gain by any of this."

"But he's done it before-the insurance scam with the dead horses."

"Yes, but things were different then."

"Tigers don't change their stripes."

"Look," I said, "I'm not trying to defend him. I just think there are more rotten apples in this barrel than Don Jade. What did Michael Berne have to say for himself about the night Jill was murdered?"

"He was at Players for drinks with a client, the client was a no-show. Berne went out into the hall to call the client, and witnessed the scene between Jade and the girl."

"And after that?"

"Went home and spent the evening with his wife."

I rolled my eyes. "Ah, yes, the accommodating Ms. Alibi."

"What?" Landry said, looking irritated. "You think Berne masterminded the whole thing? Why?"

"I'm not saying that. I still don't see why anyone would risk getting caught at the kidnapping scheme. But Michael Berne hates Don Jade with a vengeance-and I mean that literally. Berne lost a lot when he lost Trey Hughes as a client. He's the definition of bitter. He might have killed the horse. Maybe he thinks if Jade was out of the way, he would get back in with Hughes. Even if that didn't happen, he would have the satisfaction of ruining Jade's life."

"And where does Van Zandt fit in with Berne? You still believe he killed Jill, don't you?"

"Yes, but maybe he doesn't fit in. Maybe he killed Jill and it didn't have anything to do with anything but sex," I said. "Or maybe he's partners with Berne, or he's partners with Paris Montgomery-who's screwing Trey Hughes, by the way-but I don't believe he's partners with Don Jade. And then there's Trey Hughes. This whole nightmare is revolving around him."

"Jesus, what a fucking mess," Landry mumbled. He finished his scotch and set the glass on the coffee table. "I wouldn't mention any of this to Lieutenant Dugan, if I were you."

"Why would I?"

Landry's pager went off. He checked the display, then glanced up at me. "Because he wants you in his office ASAP."

L andry held the door for me as we entered the building. I didn't have the manners to thank him. My mind was on the meeting ahead. I needed a strategy going in or Dugan and Armedgian would run me off the case on a rail.

They were waiting in the lieutenant's office: Dugan, Armedgian, and Weiss. Weiss gave me the glare as I entered the room, the flat cop eyes with a mountain of pent-up anger behind them. I dismissed him and went straight to Dugan, looking him in the eye, offering my hand.

"Lieutenant. Elena Estes. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I'm sure it won't be." I turned to Armedgian. "Wayne. Thanks for the info on Van Zandt. The whole truth would have been more helpful, but what the hell? Nobody liked Jill Morone anyway."

Armedgian's round face colored. "I can't give sensitive information to a civilian."

"Sure. I understand. And that's why you called Lieutenant Dugan here straightaway, right? To warn him, so he could have someone keep an eye on the guy, right?"

"We had no reason to believe Van Zandt was an immediate danger to anyone," Armedgian defended himself. "I hadn't been made aware of the Seabright girl's kidnapping."

"I'm sure that will be a comfort to Jill Morone's family."

"Your concern for the family is touching, Ms. Estes," Dugan said. "And surprising, considering the way you've treated the Seabrights."

"I've given due courtesy to the Seabrights."

"Not according to Bruce Seabright."

"He wasn't due any, as you've probably found out for yourself by now. Frankly, I'm not convinced he isn't involved in the kidnapping."

"I'm not interested in your theories, Ms. Estes," Dugan said.

"Then why am I here?"

"The Seabrights want to lodge a complaint against you. Seems you've misrepresented yourself to them."

"Not so."

"You are not a private investigator," Dugan said.

"I never told anyone that I was. The Seabrights have made an erroneous assumption."

"Don't try to bullshit me with semantics. If you want to play word games, become a lawyer."

"Thanks for the career advice."

"Too bad she couldn't have taken it before she got one of ours killed," Weiss muttered behind my back.

I kept my focus on Dugan. "I got into this to try to help a little girl who believed her sister was in trouble when no one-including this office-believed her. That's my only purpose in this, Lieutenant. If Bruce Seabright somehow feels threatened by that, you might want to have a hard look at why."

"We've got it under control," Dugan said. "I want you out of it. Now."

I looked around the room. "Gee, did I miss something? Have I been rehired by this agency? Because, if I haven't been, then I'm pretty certain you can't tell me what to do or where to go or with whom I might have a conversation. I'm a private citizen."

"You're impeding an official investigation."

"There wouldn't be an investigation if not for me."

"I can't have a citizen running loose, breaking and entering homes, tampering with evidence-"

"Breaking and entering is a crime," I said. "If you have some kind of proof I've committed a crime, then you should arrest me."

"Say the word, Lieutenant," Weiss offered. "I'll do the honors."

"Van Zandt is our business now, Elena," Armedgian said. "The sheriff's and the FBI's."

I looked at him, bored. "Uh-huh. Great job. He came to my house this morning and threatened me. Where were you then, Wayne? And you know what? I'll bet a hundred dollars you don't know where he is right now. Do you?"

The look on his face spoke for him.

"The Seabrights intend to file a restraining order against you, Ms. Estes," Dugan said. "If you go near them, their home, Mr. Seabright's place of business, we'll have to pick you up."

I shrugged. "You could have sent a deputy to tell me that. Unless you really want to talk about this case, Lieutenant, you're wasting my time."

Dugan arched an eyebrow. "You have pressing business somewhere?"

I pulled my cell phone out of my jacket pocket, scrolled through a few numbers, and hit the call button. I kept my gaze on the lieutenant as the phone rang on the other end.

"Van Zandt? Elle. Sorry I had to rush off this morning. Especially after you took all that time to scream at me and make me feel like I couldn't ride a bicycle, much less a horse."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Only background noise. He was in a car. I figured to proceed with the conversation even if Van Zandt hung up on me. I wanted Dugan to know he didn't own me, and at the same time know that I could be an asset, whether he liked the idea or not.

"You think I was too tough on you?" Van Zandt asked.

"No. I like it rough," I said suggestively.

Another pause, and then he chuckled. "I don't know anyone like you, Elle."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I think that remains to be seen. I'm surprised you are calling me."

"The moth to the flame," I said. "You exercise my brain, Z. Sean and I are going to Players for a late dinner and a drink or three. Are you free?"

"Not at the moment."

"Later?" I suggested.

"I don't think I should trust you, Elle."

"Why not? I don't have any power. I'm the odd one out."

"You don't trust me," he said. "You think bad things about me which are not true."

"So convince me you're a good guy. It's never too late to make friends. Besides, it's only drinks, for God's sake. Bring your friend Lorinda. You can sell her Sean's horse over dessert. See you later. Ciao."

I ended the call, put the phone back in my pocket.

"Yes," I said to Dugan. "I have pressing business. Seems I have a date with Tomas Van Zandt." I turned to Wayne Armedgian. "Do you think you can pick up the tail from a dead standstill in a parking lot?"

I didn't wait for an answer.

"It's been real, guys," I said, and with a wave of my hand, I left the room.

I felt dizzy. I felt like I had walked up to a giant and spit in his eye. I'd managed to alienate the head of Robbery/Homicide and a regional supervisory special agent of the FBI in one fell swoop.

What the hell. I'd been the alien going in. They had excluded me, not the other way around. I would have happily told them anything about the case I could, but they didn't want me. I had just put them on notice I couldn't be bullied. I knew my rights, I knew the law. And I knew I was right: They wouldn't have had a case if I hadn't badgered Landry into it, if I hadn't called Armedgian looking for information. I wouldn't let them pat-pat me on the head now and send me to the sidelines.

I walked up and down on the sidewalk outside the building, breathing in the thick, warm night air, wondering if I'd played it right, wondering if it would even matter or if it was already too late.

"That's some set you've got on you, Estes."

Landry came toward me with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other.

"Yeah, it's a wonder my pants fit."

"Think Van Zandt will show at Players?" he asked, lighting up.

"I think he will. He likes the game too much. And it's not as if he's in imminent danger of arrest. He knows you don't have anything on him or he'd be in jail already. I think he'll show to rub your face in it-and mine."

On impulse I took the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. Landry watched me, inscrutable.

"You smoke?" he asked.

"No," I said on a trail of smoke. "I quit years ago."

"Me too."

"Desk pack?" I asked.

He took the cigarette back. "It's this or a flask. I can't get suspended for this. Yet."

"Weiss has a real bug up his ass."

"He's short," Landry said by way of explanation.

"I know I'm not welcome in this," I said. "But it was my case first, and I can still serve a purpose."

"Yeah, I know. You just slapped my lieutenant in the face with it."

A hint of a smile pulled at his mouth. His approval meant too much to me.

"Subtlety is overrated and it takes too long," I said. "We don't have time to fuck around."

I took the cigarette for one last puff, my lips touching where his had been. I didn't want to let myself think there was anything erotic in that, but of course there was, and Landry knew it too. Our gazes locked and held, a current running between us.

"I've got to go," I said, backing down the sidewalk.

Landry stayed where he was. "What if Dugan wants you back inside?"

"He knows where I'm going. He can come and buy me a drink."

He shook his head in wonder. "You're something, Estes."

"Just trying to survive," I said as I turned and went to my car.

As I pulled around past the sidewalk on my way out of the lot, my headlights flashed on Weiss standing in the doorway to the building. Little prick. I figured he would make trouble for Landry sharing his smoke with me, but that was Landry's business. I had problems of my own. I had a date with a killer.