Читать книгу You Must Remember This Part 3 - Marilyn Pappano - Страница 9

Maxwell Brown’s house sat on the highest hill in Grand Springs, a monument to money, ego and the determination to succeed. With its Mediterranean styling, lush grounds and elaborate security fence, it would have looked more at home in the Caribbean or on one of the tiny exclusive islands between Miami and Miami Beach, but even high in the Rockies, it was beautiful. Both the house and the grounds were brightly lit in the night. No one would ever slip in there unnoticed. No doubt, there were perimeter alarms, motion-sensitive detectors and burglar alarms all over the place.

“What a great place to live.”

Martin glanced at Juliet, who was staring up at the house from their place on the dark street. Frankly, he couldn’t imagine her in a place like this, maybe because he identified her so strongly with her neat little green house. Oddly enough, though, he could see himself living in a place like this. Maybe…

Damn, how he hated that word.

She smiled at his fierce look. “Feeling cranky? You should have taken me up on my offer.”

Tension born of frustration was immediately replaced by tension of a sexual nature. Back in his apartment, once she’d found the strength to lift her head from his shoulder, once she’d been able to speak coherently, she had made him several offers—to take off her clothes, to take him to bed, to do things to him that he might never have had done to him before. She’d offered earthy, lusty promises, made all the more indecent by her utterly innocent face, and he had been tempted, heaven help him, more than ever before. But the condoms were at her house. She hadn’t minded, but he had. No matter how urgent the desire, he couldn’t risk her future, maybe even her life, not even for the most incredible lovemaking that existed.

So he had torn himself away from her, dragged on clothes that she’d kept trying to remove and made himself a promise. Later. He could have her later. The prospect was enough to give him some measure of control.

“Exactly what kind of business is Maxwell Brown in?”

He looked back at the house. “He used to be a stockbroker. Now he’s into a little of everything. He owns both residential and commercial rental property. He has a construction company, a trucking company and a couple of car dealerships. He owns an interest in the mall, one of the banks and in the commuter airline out at the airport. He’s also part-owner of the Squaw Creek Lodge.”

“So he’s a respectable businessman whose interests are diversified. But you still have this feeling.”

“I know it sounds silly—”

“Not at all. I work three days a week with people who get paid for heeding their ‘feelings’—only they call them hunches. Instincts.”

He gestured toward the endless wrought-iron fence that circled the property. “I know there’s money in business, but look at that house. There’s no mortgage on it. The fence alone cost more than most houses in town. Grand Springs is a small city. Just how much money can one man make here legitimately?”

“Do you have any theories?”

He looked at the house, then closed his eyes and saw similar houses in south Florida. He thought of the trucking company, the airplanes, the auto dealerships where nondescript cars could be easily brought in or disposed of, and the bank. “A wild guess? I’d say drugs. If I didn’t know he was a respectable businessman.”

Juliet’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I think of drug lords as South Americans who have no heart or soul, who live surrounded by armed men and kill anyone who gets in their way.”

“They come in all nationalities, darlin’, including upper-class American. And not all of them are heartless. Some of them love their families very much. They’re generous with the people around them. They’re protective, almost fatherly. The drug business is just that—business.”

“Dangerous business.”

“Extremely so. The cops either want to stop you or bleed you dry, and the competition wants you dead—” Abruptly he stopped. Why was he speaking with such authority? Because he’d lived that life before? Was that why someone had tried to kill him? Why he spoke Spanish fluently for an apple-pie American? Why the pictures of Miami had seemed so familiar? Why he knew that there were little islands in Biscayne Bay where houses like Maxwell Brown’s were abundant? Was that why Juliet heard trucking company, airline, car dealers and bank, and thought business, while he heard them and thought drugs?

Was that why he dreamed of killing men?

“What is it?”

Ignoring her question, he stared away from her. Maybe Maxwell Brown was nothing more than a legitimate businessman. Maybe the only person involved in the drug trade around here was him. And maybe that was why no one had tried to find him after his disappearance: they simply assumed that he was dead, that whoever had wanted to kill him had succeeded.

Juliet wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing tightly enough to make him wince. “Not you, Martin. Maybe someone you knew, but not you.”

She sounded so sure, but she could be kidding herself. She wanted to believe the best of him, but he had to face the fact that there might not have been any “best” in him. He might have been the worst sort of person imaginable.

In the silence that followed her assertion, headlights appeared at the top of the hill as Brown’s Lexus came into sight. “Duck,” he commanded, sliding Juliet half under the steering wheel, bending low over her. The lights bounced across Juliet’s car as the Lexus turned toward town. Martin waited a moment, then another before lifting his head in time to see the taillights disappear around a curve.

Juliet started the engine and swung the car into a tight U-turn.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see where he’s going.”

He smiled faintly. Prim, shy Juliet, tailing the most influential man in the county. Who ever would have believed it? Then he thought of last night in her bed and this evening in his apartment. Prim and shy, yes, but also sensual, sexy, uninhibited, wild, tempting and seductive. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on you.”

She flashed him a smile. “If you’ve been bad, I don’t think I could survive good.”

They came out of a curve into a straightaway just as, several blocks ahead, Brown made a right turn onto the main road. “Slow down,” Martin instructed. “Wait until he’s almost out of sight.”

“But what if we lose him?”

“We won’t.” He watched the Lexus for a moment, then nodded. “Now. You know, one-car surveillance is damned hard to pull off. Ideally, you should have at least two cars and radios or cell phones to stay in touch. Then if your guy gets suspicious, you can turn off and let your partner take over.”

She was giving him a curious look. “Spoken like a cop.”

“Or the subject of too much surveillance.”

Brown’s car was several blocks ahead as they entered the main part of town. When his brake lights and turn signal flashed, Martin instructed Juliet to pull over and shut off her lights. She obeyed, stopping behind a delivery van that blocked them from sight, and he slipped from the car and moved to the side of the van to watch.

Brown pulled into the parking lot beside the Monroe Building, took a quick look around, then headed for the alley entrance to the building. He was carrying a briefcase and looked as if he were just starting his business day, not ending it.

Martin returned to the car. “He went to his office.”

“Oh, wow, that’s exciting.”

“Who ever told you that surveillance was supposed to be exciting?”

“So now what?”

“Want some dinner?”

“What if he leaves while we’re gone?”

“Then we go home.”

“Aren’t you curious about what he’s doing in there?”

“Yes, but we’re not going to find out from here.” He looked at her for a moment, then relented. “All right. Let’s find a better place to park.”

She backed up, went around the block and parked near the corner on a side street. Their position gave them a good view of the parking lot, part of the alley and the front entrance to the building without being too noticeable. As soon as she shut off the engine, Martin unfastened his seat belt. “I’m going down the block to the Saloon to get some burgers. Don’t go anywhere. If he leaves, let him go and wait for me. Don’t get out of the car for any reason. Don’t do anything.”

“I’m not a child, Martin, and I’m not going to do something foolish.”

“I know. Just don’t get carried away. If anything happened to you…” He stopped, unwilling to finish the statement, unwilling to admit the truth aloud—if anything happened to her, it would destroy him.

“I’ll stay here. I’ll lock the doors, and I’ll be good.”

He got out quickly so the dome light wasn’t on one second longer than necessary. Sticking close to the building, he backtracked half a block to the alley, then made his way to the Saloon, placing their order at the bar, waiting impatiently. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her. Maybe he should have forgotten about dinner or insisted that they go home. Maybe—

“Hey, Martin, Stone and the chief and a couple of the guys are over there in the corner. Come join us.”

He glanced at Jack Stryker, then at the long table of cops before shaking his head. “Thanks, but not tonight.”

“Haven’t seen you around the department lately, though I hear you met Juliet there for lunch today.”

Martin let that slide. “Anything new on the Stuart case?”

“Dean Springer has gone to ground, and he might never come back up. We reinterviewed everyone in town who knew him, and we still can’t connect him to anyone with reason to want Olivia dead. Of course, part of the problem is we can’t find anyone with reason to want her dead. And it’s easy for someone like Springer to hide. He’s one of those forgettable sorts. Hell, he lived here for twenty years, and only a few people knew him.”

Martin was one of those forgettable sorts, too. He’d been missing for more than ten months, and no one had missed him yet.

“Sure you won’t join us?”

“Thanks, but Juliet’s waiting.” He pulled some money from his pocket as the waitress brought his order. He was across the bar and on his way out when he met a crowd coming in. One of them bumped into him, then released the woman with him and stuck out his arm to block Martin’s way.

“Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the man demanded, his tone belligerent, his manner blustery, posturing for his girlfriend.

Martin switched the paper bag to his left hand, then tilted the cowboy’s hat back so they could see eye to eye. “Jimmy Ray,” he said softly. “Haven’t we danced this dance before?”

The cowboy’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t know—”

“That’s right. You didn’t know. That’s why you need to be nice to everybody, because you never know.” He leaned closer to emphasize the last words. “The next time you bump into somebody, you handle it right. You say, ‘Excuse me. I didn’t mean to do that.’ Try it now.”

“Ex-excuse me. I didn’t mean to—to…” Jimmy Ray’s Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed again.

“Close enough. Nice seeing you again.” He stepped around the cowboy and left the bar. A glance down the street showed the lights were still on in Brown’s office. A closer glance showed just the front end of Juliet’s car on the next street over. It wasn’t attention grabbing, since there were other cars parked nearby. Of course, Maxwell Brown hadn’t seen any of those other cars parked outside his house a short while ago.

He returned down the side street and through the alley, tapping on the window so she could unlock the door. He handed her a burger, Coke and napkins and unwrapped his own burger before speaking. “I ran into a friend of yours at the Saloon.”

“Really? Who?”

“Jimmy Ray.”

“Jimmy—Oh, the cowboy.”

“You say that as if it’s something special,” he teased. He could afford to tease because, in fact, she’d said it as if the other man was totally inconsequential. “Of course, being Texas born and bred, I imagine cowboys do carry some significance for you.”

“Not in the least, though if you put on a pair of boots and a Stetson, I imagine it might raise my temperature a degree or two.”

“I could do more than that, darlin’. In my apartment this evening you were steaming.”

She blushed in the dim light and picked for a moment at her hamburger before asking, “You don’t think anyone could see…do you?”

The window was set high enough that his hand underneath her skirt had been hidden from view. But anyone with any imagination whatsoever would have known what he’d been doing to her, where he’d been touching her, what she’d been feeling. The look on her face, the taut line of her body and the arch of her back had all but shouted pure sexual delight.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m sure no one saw a thing.”

For the next hour, they talked, sat in silence and listened to music. Martin was about to suggest that they call it a night and head home when finally something happened. The lights went off in Maxwell Brown’s office, and a moment later he came out of the building and climbed into his car. If he turned toward home, they would let him go, Martin decided. If he didn’t, they would follow.

When Brown turned the other way, Martin opened the door. “Let me drive, Juliet.” They switched places, then he pulled to the corner. As soon as the Lexus was out of sight, he turned.

Once the road left town, it wound through valleys and over passes. Eventually, it reached the interstate, and from there it was easy going to anyplace in the country. Brown didn’t go that far, though. Only a couple of miles out of town, he turned into a broad driveway, slowed at the security gate, then went inside. Martin drove past, pulled to the side of the road and cut the engine and the lights. “Wait here—”

“No way. I’m going with you.”

“You’re not dressed for a nighttime walk through the woods.” Her skirt was full and would snag on bushes, and her shoes, while sensible flats, weren’t designed with hiking in mind.

“I’ll be fine.”

“That dress will reflect every bit of light in the sky.”

She reached in back and came up with a black trench coat. Her smile was smug. “I like to be prepared. I don’t trust Colorado weather.”

He wanted to argue with her, but he didn’t have time. If there was anything to see inside the fenced-in compound, he needed to get close enough. “You do what I say without question. Stay behind me. And if I tell you to run, you run like hell and don’t look back. Understand?”

Her only response was to shrug into the coat, then climb out of the car. With the coat covering her to the ankles and its hood drawn tight around her face, she was less visible than he was, making him wish once more for a knitted black cap to cover his blond hair.

What little light the moon gave disappeared as they moved deeper into the woods. They followed the concertina-topped fence, keeping to the shelter of the trees, around to the back of the compound. There, a drainage ditch that ran the length of the fence provided them cover. Martin found a good vantage point and eased onto his stomach, his feet braced on chunks of granite in the bottom. With a rustle of nylon, Juliet joined him.

The back of the warehouse was brightly lit, and there was a good deal of activity going on. Three tractor-trailers marked Grand Springs Trucking were backed up to the loading dock, and another three sat off to one side, motors running, awaiting their turns. On the dock Brown stood out in his suit. Everyone around him wore jeans or work clothes.

“How’s your neck?”

Juliet’s whisper tickled his ear, but he didn’t twitch. “Itchy as hell,” he whispered back.

“It’s not really unusual for deliveries to come in at night, is it?”

“I don’t know. But do you think Brown comes out to personally oversee the unloading of every nighttime shipment?”

“Probably not.” She wriggled around, then came up with a small rock that had been somewhere underneath her. She was about to toss it aside when Martin grabbed both it and her hand. With a weak smile, she gave him the rock, which he laid silently in front of them.

As he watched the men work, he made up a mental wish list: electronic equipment for listening in on Brown’s conversation, binoculars for closer examination of the crates being unloaded, and a gun, a nice little SIG-Sauer. He felt damn near naked without the comfortingly familiar press of the pistol in the small of his back.

He became still, his thoughts distracting him from the activity at the loading dock. He’d carried a gun. His subconscious must have been aware of that—after all, guns were the weapon of choice for killing, and he knew he’d killed—but it was still a disconcerting idea. A lot of people carried guns. Cops. Burglars. Thieves. Rapists. Murderers. Drug dealers.

Maybe his business in Grand Springs had had something to do with Maxwell Brown. Maybe he’d been looking for work. Maybe he’d been checking out the competition.

“Martin.”

Maybe he had come here to make a deal…or a hit or—

“Martin!” Juliet whispered his name and tugged his jacket even as she slid further down into the ditch. A big, burly guy was coming their way, and he didn’t look particularly friendly.

Snapping out of whatever bleak possibilities he’d been contemplating, Martin moved quickly, silently, to the bottom of the ditch, pulling her with him. For a long time they lay motionless, listening as the footsteps came closer. Just when it seemed as if the man must be walking right up to the fence, a truck door opened, then closed. A moment later the engine rumbled to life, the gears ground and the truck pulled away.