Читать книгу Front Page Affair - Jennifer Morey - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Braden walked slightly behind Arizona, unable to stop looking at the seesawing sway of her butt as she moved. Those khaki shorts didn’t help. They conformed to her shape, sloping up over slender hips to give way to a floral cotton tank that followed her curves to her plump, round breasts. Last night had been as unexpected as it had been memorable. He still couldn’t get his mind past the enchantment.

It was just the dive.

She’d said it as an excuse. Like what she really felt was that it was a lot more. He was afraid he felt the same.

Braden reached the police station doors and opened one, standing aside as Arizona entered. Kissing her had been a big mistake.

Arizona didn’t believe in mistakes.

Not what he intended, then. Diving had served to take his mind off his worry over his sister, but now every minute couldn’t be wasted. Once they talked to the police, he’d take the investigation into his own hands. He couldn’t afford the distraction of sexual attraction to interfere.

Inside, Arizona asked to speak to someone about Tatum McCrae.

The dark-skinned woman in a black uniform appeared confused. “Who?”

Braden stepped forward. “We’re here from the United States to find a missing person. Tatum McCrae.” He pulled out a picture of her. “Her last known whereabouts were in Frenchman’s Cay.”

The woman looked at the picture and then back at Braden. “Sorry. Never seen her before.”

“May we speak with Monty Crawford?” That was the officer his parents had spoken with.

“Have a seat.” The woman went to find the man. It was a small police station.

Braden watched her cross the open room of four desks and stop before a tall, thin man with a big nose and a severely receding hairline standing just outside an office beside another, heavier man with a less dramatic hairline. The woman spoke to the big-nosed man, whose gaze shifted over her shoulder toward the front of the building. He responded with something and then turned to the heavier man, who nodded once and left to go sit at one of the desks in the open area while the woman retraced her steps back toward the front desk.

“You can go on back,” she said.

Braden led Arizona through a swinging half door and approached the officer, the sound of fingers tapping on keyboards accompanying them.

The officer wore a grim face as he waited in front of an office.

Braden stopped before him. “Officer Crawford?”

The man nodded, extending his hand. “You’re Tatum McCrae’s brother?”

“Yes.” He introduced himself and Arizona, who stood beside him. “I was told you were the one looking into my sister’s disappearance. ”

Crawford nodded a few times, still grim. “I’ve spoken with your parents. Anytime a tourist goes missing, we take it very seriously.”

“Have you received any more leads?” No matter how small.

“I’m afraid not. She was seen getting into a taxi. That’s the best we’ve got so far.”

Which wasn’t much.

“Are you sure she didn’t mention anyone she might be meeting down here?” Crawford asked.

Braden shook his head.

“Do you think she might have met someone?” Arizona asked.

“She got into the taxi willingly. That suggests she at least went somewhere on her own. What happened after that is a mystery. The driver was killed, and none of the others we spoke with could tell us anything. There wasn’t even a record of him picking her up.”

“What do you know about his murder?”

“He was shot late that night. Hours after your sister was seen getting into his cab, and nowhere near Frenchman’s Cay.”

“Any leads on his killer? Any witnesses?”

Crawford shook his head. “None that help. He stopped at a coffee shop about an hour before that, but didn’t say anything to connect his murder to your sister’s disappearance.”

This was discouraging. “How do you know he was the driver?”

“We’ve questioned all the others.”

“Are you sure you didn’t miss any?”

“As sure as I can be. We’re still looking into it for that very reason.”

He appeared to be doing everything he could.

“Are you sure she didn’t meet someone she knew and doesn’t want to be found?” Crawford asked.

“She would have called our mother,” Braden insisted. “She knows she would worry.”

The detective nodded again in that same somber way.

Braden pulled out a card and handed it to Crawford. “Will you call me if anything changes?”

Crawford took the card. “Of course.” He pulled out his wallet and removed his own card. “I can understand why you traveled all this way, but I should caution you that this may take some time.”

Braden put the detective’s card in his back pocket. “All I want is my sister back.”

“We’ll find her.”

Dead? Or alive?

* * *

Riding in the back of a taxi with Braden to Frenchman’s Cay, Arizona ignored her building attraction to him. The urgency of finding Tatum superseded everything else. Entering into a relationship with him made her shudder as much as the idea of having kids did. She would concentrate on the task at hand instead.

Located on a twelve-acre peninsula a short drive from Road Town and connected to Tortola by a bridge, Frenchman’s Cay was a sleepy island community. Restaurants and shops in Soper’s Hole were colorful and well maintained. Bougainvillea, poinsettias and hibiscus abounded. White sandy beaches beckoned. And a lucky few called the forested foothills home. On Frenchman’s Point, Braden drove to a stop at the Island Hotel.

Arizona stepped up to the white-painted porch. It wasn’t a large hotel. Twenty rooms, maybe. Inside, the lobby opened to wide expanses of light-colored tile. Custom art hung on the walls.

They approached the stone registration desk.

A young girl looked up from a book. Braden asked to speak with the general manager. The clerk went into an office behind the counter and emerged with a dark-skinned man with cropped white hair.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

Braden showed him a picture of Tatum. “We’re looking for this woman.”

“Oh, yeah. Police came asking about her. Pretty lady. That’s why I remembered her.”

“Did she check in?”

“No.”

The clerk’s gaze shot from Braden to the manager.

Why would she get a taxi here if she hadn’t checked in? Did the clerk find that odd, too?

“Are you sure all you saw was her getting into a taxi?”

The manager nodded once. “I was inside. Standing right here.”

Arizona looked behind her. The doors and windows offered a fairly clear view of the covered passenger drop-off and valet parking area.

“Did anyone else see her?” Braden asked.

“No. Just me.”

When Arizona faced forward again, she saw the girl quickly avert her head away from the manager and then her gaze flitted off Arizona and Braden.

“Did she talk to anyone before she got into the cab?” Braden continued with his questioning, not appearing to notice the girl’s jitteriness.

“Sorry, I saw what I saw. I wish I could help more. Missing.” He shook his head regretfully. “Hope she’s all right.”

Braden took some time before giving up. “Thanks.”

“Good luck finding your sister.” The manager turned and went into the office, shutting the door behind him.

The girl behind the counter kept stealing glances at both her and Braden. Acting on her hunch, Arizona took the picture from Braden’s lowered hand and went to the counter. Showing the picture, she asked, “Do you recognize this woman?”

The clerk’s eyes darted toward the office and back, wariness holding her silent.

“Please,” Arizona coaxed. “We just need to know where she went.”

Still, the girl remained silent.

“If this woman is in trouble, you could help her.” Arizona moved the photo closer.

The girl studied it for a while and then glanced fearfully at the office door again. When she faced forward, she leaned closer and said in a low voice, “I was coming in to work when she was getting into the taxi. I heard her tell the driver to take her to Julian Blake’s house. She gave the driver the address, but everybody knows who lives there.” She gave them a conspiratorial look. “Richest man on the island.”

Everyone knew the man? He had a reputation. A rich reputation.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Braden asked.

“I didn’t know she was missing until right now. I took a few days off after that day. The police never questioned me.”

“Did you know your manager was questioned?”

The girl shook her head.

Arizona shared a look with Braden, finding that piece of information suspicious.

“Can you tell us where Julian Blake lives?” Braden asked.

“On the other side of the island. Big house. You can’t miss it.” She told them how to get there.

After thanking the girl, Arizona turned with Braden.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

Stopping short at the sound of the girl’s whisper, an urgent warning, she turned with Braden.

“Mr. Blake doesn’t like uninvited visitors,” the girl continued.

“Why doesn’t he like visitors?” Braden asked.

“Uninvited visitors. Guess he prefers his privacy.” She glanced at the office door again.

Why did he need privacy? So he could hide what he was doing? Arizona rubbed her arms, sensing danger rising. How far would Julian go to preserve his privacy? The last place Tatum was known to be is his house. Was he hiding something sinister?

“What does he do if someone comes to see him anyway?” Arizona asked.

“Escorts them off his property. That’s what I hear anyway. Rich people live in their own world.”

The way the girl said escorts gave Arizona an image of being forced away at gunpoint. “Thank you. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

The girl glanced at the office door again. Why was she so nervous? Didn’t she want her manager to know what she’d heard on her way into work? And if not, why? Were they both afraid of Julian Blake?

Arizona walked with Braden out of the hotel. “This is really getting weird.”

“We have to go to Julian’s house.”

“Should we talk to the manager again?”

“Not yet. He probably won’t tell us any more than he has, and I don’t want to cause trouble for that clerk.”

She agreed. Not yet.

Wondering about the escort they’d receive, she didn’t let it sway her. “What are we waiting for, then?” They’d never get anywhere doing nothing.

Arizona hurried with Braden to a waiting taxi. The driver gave them a funny look when Braden told them to take them to Julian Blake. The man knew how to get there. Another oddity. Or not. This was a small island. Everyone knew everyone.

Pulling out Crawford’s card, Braden pressed in the number. Shortly thereafter he explained what the clerk had told them, particularly about the hotel manager.

“He said he’d check into it,” he told Arizona.

The taxi driver turned onto a narrow dirt road. A sign read Keep Out. Another read Private Property. Arizona shared a long look with Braden. Dare they meet Julian Blake on their own?

“We’re just going to talk to him,” Braden said. “What could possibly go wrong?”

* * *

The taxi bumped over the uneven road. If this was a driveway, it was long. At last, they passed an open, elaborate iron gate. If Julian didn’t welcome visitors, would he leave the gate open? Seeing cameras moving on each side of the gate, she understood why it didn’t necessarily have to be closed all the time. The security was tight here.

The thick forest of trees opened in a clearing and a stone villa came into view. It was breathtaking. A main section with large windows jutted forward in front. Windows lined two levels on the back portion. Above the entry, a balcony had tables and chairs. The drapes were closed in whatever room it was.

The taxi stopped in a circular driveway, just in front of wide stone stairs leading to a courtyard entrance.

“Wait for us,” Braden said.

One of the double front doors opened and three men emerged. The man in front exuded an aura of power. Average in height, thick brown hair, eyes covered by sunglasses, he wore white pants and a white vest over a long-sleeved pink dress shirt. Showy.

He stepped down the stairs, the two other men following.

Arizona stopped on the flagstone driveway, Braden beside her.

“Mr. Blake?” Braden began.

“What business do you have coming to my home?” he asked in an East Coast accent. He wasn’t from here. He was American and must have moved here at some point.

“We apologize for arriving unannounced,” Braden said. “But we have a rather urgent matter we’d like to discuss with you.” When Julian didn’t respond, he explained who they were and why they were here.

“Tatum McCrae, you say?” the man repeated, making a show of ignorance. He shook his head. “I haven’t heard of her.”

He was lying. He had to be.

“We know she came to see you before she disappeared. How do you know her?” Braden demanded. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know your sister. I don’t know anyone named Tatum McCrae. Why have you come here?”

Braden stepped forward with his picture. The two men behind Julian moved in front of him. Braden stopped, extending the picture.

The two men didn’t move to take it. And Julian put his hands on each of his henchmen’s shoulders, who stepped aside to make room for him. Julian stepped, closer to Braden and Arizona. Removing his sunglasses and holding them in his hand, his dark, fathomless gaze drifted down and up Arizona, and then shifted to meet Braden’s indomitable eyes.

But Julian wasn’t affected. “You came here for nothing.”

Braden continued to stare at the man.

“And unless I tell you it’s all right to come to my home, I suggest you stay away. Next time I won’t wait to ask questions.”

“Where is my sister?” Braden asked again.

“This is the last warning you’ll get. Leave now. Never come back.”

Another stare down commenced, Julian mocking, Braden calculating.

“Let’s go.” Arizona had a bad feeling about this.

After a few tugs on his arm, Braden went with her back to the cab, looking back at the villa until it vanished from sight. Dust billowed up from the dirt road. Flowering evergreen trees and a variety of others, perhaps white cedar and mango, gave the illusion of paradise.

When they reached the gate, two Jeeps waited just inside, angled toward the road. Four men stood outside of the vehicles, all of them armed. They each held some sort of automatic weapon, the barrels long and pointed to the ground at the moment. Around their waists, pistols hung.

Fear shot into Arizona as the driver began to slow.

“Don’t stop,” Braden said.

Arizona could hear the driver breathing and his eyes were round, the green of them stark against his dark skin and the whites of his eyes.

“They must want us to drive through the gate,” she said, trying to calm him.

He drove past. The men outside the Jeeps moved as they did, facing their departure. But then they all climbed inside the Jeeps.

The taxicab driver’s eyes remained wide as he looked into the rearview mirror.

“Drive faster,” Braden said from the backseat.

The driver complied, as eager as them to get away. The dust cloud behind them rose higher.

The cab fishtailed around a turn and raced up a hill. On the other side was Soper’s Hole. Cresting the hill, it came into view.

The Jeeps stopped at the top of the hill. Arizona waited for gunfire. None came. She waited for them to chase them again. They didn’t.

“They’re not following.” Why weren’t they?

The driver slowed as they reached town. Then he pulled into a gas station and parked.

“Get out,” he said.

Braden tried to pay him but he waved his hand. “Get out. You walk from here.”

She and Braden did as the driver asked. When the taxi drove away, she said, “Gave him a pretty good scare.”

“Julian Blake gave him the scare.” He turned to her, each thinking the same thing. Why? Why was Julian Blake someone to fear on this island?

He started walking toward the center of Soper’s Hole. She jogged to catch up to him and then walked beside him on the sidewalk. Five minutes later they reached the busy town center. It was clean and beautiful. The street wasn’t in very good condition, but cars parked along the side and the sidewalk was dotted with black streetlamps. Big flowerpots were placed between, and multicolored, wooden benches offered seating along storefronts. People entered into and emerged from shops, walked along the street, talking, smiling, peering into store windows.

Then those that weren’t tourists began to take notice of them. At first Arizona thought she was mistaken. Why would they single them out? A man leaning against the enclave of the entrance to a gift shop puffed a cigarette as they passed, his dark eyes following them eerily. Two women sitting at one of two tables on the patio of a café spoke quietly together between glances at them.

A dark blue Cadillac slowed on the street, rolling beside them on the other side of parked cars. The window moved down. Crawford was driving. Why was he here?

“Everything all right?” he asked.

When she and Braden stopped walking, he stopped the car.

“We were just chased off Blake’s property,” Braden said.

Crawford looked from him to Arizona as though digesting that announcement. “Why don’t you both get in the car?”

Braden touched his hand to Arizona’s back and opened the back door for her. She climbed in and he got into the front passenger’s seat.

Crawford began to drive. “I can appreciate your concern for your sister, Mr. McCrae, but I’m going to have to ask that you leave the investigation to me.”

“His goons had guns,” Braden retorted.

“The more stormy weather you stir up, the harder it will be for me to do my job.”

Braden didn’t argue.

“I understand you feel helpless and you need to do something. Time is of the essence. But I assure you, I’m doing everything I can to find Tatum. Tortola is a quiet community. A safe community. I intend to do my part to keep it that way.”

“Are you going to talk to the hotel manager?” Braden asked.

“I just left there. And he explained what I suspected. Most around here like to leave Julian Blake alone. They prefer not to have any contact with the man.”

“Why is that?” Arizona asked. “Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“No one will ever say Julian is a friendly fellow. But that doesn’t make him a criminal. He prefers seclusion. Many come to islands like this for that reason.”

“But he has armed guards,” Arizona argued.

“I have seen no evidence of that. He is good at concealing his activities.”

Hearing the detective’s frustration, Arizona sighed. “You have to agree that it’s strange.”

“Oh, I do agree. There’s just not much I can do about it right now.” Crawford checked the rearview mirror. “Where am I taking you two?”

Braden told him the name of their hotel just as Arizona’s cell phone rang. She dug into her purse and retrieved it. Lincoln.

“Lincoln?”

“Hey, Arizona. How are you?”

“Fine, you?”

“Doped up on pain medication, enduring Mom’s care at home and working. And I just found something big.”

“What? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I rest. When I’m awake, I work. You want to hear this or not?”

“What have you got?” Her words made Braden twist in his seat to see her and Crawford glance in his rearview mirror.

“A news report of a missing woman in Tortola. Three months ago. The article said she checked in at the Frenchman’s Point Hotel and was never seen again. She has a sister in Oregon. I gave her a call and she had something very interesting to say.”

“What was that?”

“The missing woman was having an affair with a man who lives in Tortola. His name is Julian Blake.”

Sucking in her breath, she met Braden’s eyes, which hardened at her reaction. “We were just chased away by the very same man. Tatum went to see him before she disappeared.”

Lincoln cursed.

Had Braden’s sister had an affair with him? Both women had disappeared.

Crawford kept looking in his mirror.

“Can we talk to her?” Arizona asked her brother.

“She’ll come to you. She’s on her way to Tortola now. I gave her your hotel information.”

The woman had been looking for her sister just as Braden now was.

“Thanks, Lincoln.”

“Glad to help any way I can. Vengeance for my knee.”

She ended the call and stared at Braden.

“What?”

She glanced at Crawford. “There was another woman who disappeared three months ago. She was having an affair with Julian.” She allowed Braden some time to process that. “She has a sister in Oregon.”

“I’m familiar with that case,” Crawford said. “If Julian is behind both disappearances, he’s covering his tracks well. He checked out when I questioned him.”

“Tatum would have told me if she was seeing someone,” Braden said.

“Would she have? Julian doesn’t seem like a typical boyfriend.” Far from it. And Arizona wondered why Crawford hadn’t told them about the other missing woman.