Sweet Talk

  “He could have taken the steps.”

  “One of the bodyguards blocked it. George can’t open the door.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Go get him.”

  There was a warm glint in his eyes. “You’re gonna have to let go of me first.”

  She had a death grip on his hand. She let go, and turning on her heels, she hurried back into the kitchen.

  Grayson was marching down the hallway toward George when the medallion above the elevator doors lit up. George spotted Grayson coming and, in a panic, pounded on the doors, chanting, “Come on, come on . . .”

  The doors opened, and for a second George thought he was going to get away. He tried to run inside, but Agent Huntsman stopped him. Without breaking stride, Huntsman grasped George by the back of his neck and dragged him down the hall.

  Grayson led the way to Olivia’s apartment as Huntsman shoved the blubbering George inside.

  “Shut the hell up,” Huntsman ordered.

  Grayson grabbed George and dropped him into a chair adjacent to Kline and Vogel. With his head in his hands, George began to cry. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I didn’t want to be a part of this, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “The hell you didn’t,” Grayson snapped.

  Ronan caught Huntsman up on what they had learned.

  “We’ll take these two in,” Huntsman said, pointing to Vogel and Kline.

  “Where’s Larson?”

  “He’s babysitting the driver. He was sitting in his van in front of the building with a loaded .45 in his lap.”

  “You can take them just as soon as they tell me who hired them,” Grayson said.

  Kline responded with a defiant smirk on his face. “You can’t make us tell you anything. You can talk to our lawyer. Right, Vogel?”

  “Right.”

  Grayson conceded. “You don’t want to talk to us, then don’t. We’ve got you for attempted kidnapping, and I’m going to add attempted murder. I’ll make it stick, too.”

  “Attempted murder? We weren’t going to murder her,” Vogel protested.

  Grayson pointed to the vials. “Sure you were.”

  “You’re part of this, too, George,” Ronan interjected. “Attempted kidnapping and—”

  In a panic, George began to stammer. “No, no, that’s not right. I . . . I was told she was mentally ill, and I was only trying to help.”

  Ronan grinned. “That’s pretty good, George. You got that lie out without blinking.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Huntsman stood behind George while he recited his rights. “We need another pair of handcuffs.”

  “Hey, George, did you ever pay that loan off? It must have tripled by now. If you didn’t pay it back, you’ll probably be safe in prison,” Grayson said.

  “And you will be going to prison,” Ronan assured him.

  “Did you pay the loan off?” Grayson asked again.

  George’s face was turning white. “Not yet. No.”

  “Who hired you?” Grayson asked Kline.

  He wouldn’t answer. Neither would Vogel. George was the weakest link, so Grayson concentrated on him again.

  “How did you end up with these two? I know you don’t run in the same circles. So how do you know them?”

  “They work for Carl Simmons.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Kline demanded.

  “You do work for him. Everyone knows it.”

  “We said shut up,” Vogel yelled this time.

  “Olivia, do you have any duct tape?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes. In the cabinet by the pantry.”

  Grayson found it. He ripped off a long strip.

  “I know my rights. You can’t—” The first strip covered Vogel’s mouth.

  “That might not stick,” Grayson said. “I’d better reinforce it.” And with that, he taped over Vogel’s nostrils, making breathing impossible. “That should do it.”

  He crossed to the other side of the table, winked at Olivia as he passed her, then pulled out a chair and straddled it. Stacking his arms across the back, he stared at George, completely ignoring the wide-eyed Vogel.

  “You were telling us that these two work for Simmons. What do they do for him?”

  Vogel’s face was turning beet red.

  George was gaping at him. “He can’t breathe.”

  “Yes, I know,” Grayson said. “What do Kline and Vogel do for Simmons?”

  “You’re killing him.”

  “What do Kline and Vogel—”

  “I’ll tell you. Just get that tape off him and let him breathe.”

  Grayson reached across the table and ripped the tape off. Vogel gasped for air.

  “You keep your mouth shut, George,” Kline blurted.

  “Hand me the tape,” Huntsman said.

  “Okay, I’ll be quiet. No tape. This isn’t right,” Kline said. “You can’t treat us this way.”

  “No, it isn’t right.” Grayson nodded to Huntsman who immediately covered Kline’s mouth with the tape. “Know what else isn’t right?” he continued. “Kidnapping and attempted murder.”

  George looked as though, at any moment, he could burst into tears. “Oh God, how did this all get so messed up?”

  “This is the last time I’m going to ask . . .”

  “All I know is that Kline and Vogel have been working for Carl Simmons for at least a year. He tells people they’re his bodyguards. I heard him offer them a big bonus if they could get it done fast.”

  Kline grunted and shook his head. Grayson raised his hand, and Kline immediately stopped making noise. It was almost a Pavlovian response.

  “It?” he asked George.

  “Olivia. If they could take care of Olivia fast.”

  “How did you end up with them tonight?” Ronan asked.

  George’s shoulders slumped. He looked completely defeated now.

  Ronan got down in his face and shouted, “Answer the question.”

  George flinched. “Something happened during the party. I don’t know what set Carl off, but I swear he was shaking. I’ve never seen him so angry. He dragged me out to the lobby, and when he couldn’t see Kline right away, he called him on his cell phone. I heard him tell him what to do.”

  “And?” Ronan prodded.

  “He told me I had to go with them because Olivia wouldn’t open her door to two strangers, but she would if she saw me through the peephole. I told him about the doorman, that he could call Olivia and tell her there were three of us and she’d never let us come up.”

  “What did he say?” Ronan asked.

  “He told me not to worry about it, that Kline would take care of the doorman.”

  “Did he tell you how Kline would take care of him?”

  George shook his head. “No, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.”

  “What a weasel,” Grayson said under his breath.

  “As it turned out,” George continued, “the lobby was empty and the door was unlocked. He must have been on a break. . . . No, he wasn’t,” he said, finally figuring it out. “You wanted us to come inside. You were waiting for us. How did you know we were coming?”

  “What else did Simmons say?” Grayson asked, ignoring the question.

  George couldn’t look Olivia in the eye. Staring at the table, he said, “The place they were taking her would keep her locked away where she couldn’t make any more trouble. She’d be let out in three days. Carl said that was all the time Robert needed.”

  “Three days?” Ronan asked.

  “What’s MacKenzie going to get done in three days?” Grayson asked.

  “He told Carl he’d have it all cleared out by then.”

  “You hea
rd him say that?” Ronan asked.

  “Yes, I did. Robert came out in the lobby and pulled Simmons over behind some potted plants. Both of them were hopping mad. I don’t think my father-in-law cared at that point if I heard him. He was in a rage about some attorney—Mitchell Kaplan—and Olivia hiring him.”

  Olivia smiled. “He’s afraid of Jeff Wilcox’s attorney because he knows he’ll have to open up his files.” She looked at her brother-in-law. “George, tell me what you think ‘clearing it out’ means.” She wanted him to acknowledge what her father was going to do.

  “You know . . .”

  “Tell me, George.”

  “The money, the stocks . . . he’s going to close it all down.”

  “He’ll hide money,” Ronan predicted.

  “What were you promised?” Grayson asked. “No, let me guess. Simmons found out about your gambling debts and was going to see that you got enough money to pay them off without Natalie finding out. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yes. Simmons told me nobody else knew about the loans, and he’d help me out. He said there was no way I could get money out of the fund without the family suspecting.”

  Olivia couldn’t understand George’s stupidity. When was he going to pull his head out of the sand? “Aren’t you beginning to figure it out?” she said to him. “Simmons wasn’t going to give you any money. You have to know.”

  He looked up at her with weary eyes. “Know what?”

  “That it’s gone, George. You’re never going to get it back.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Probable cause. The legal term would be a game changer.

  Grayson contacted the New York office, which would continue the investigation. Since there was now probable cause, he anticipated it wouldn’t take long to get a signed order to stop Robert MacKenzie and Carl Simmons from clearing out any accounts.

  Once Kline and Vogel had been removed from the apartment, George became more talkative. To Olivia, he seemed genuinely contrite, but neither Grayson nor Ronan were buying his remorse.

  Olivia fixed George a cup of coffee, ignoring Grayson’s frowns, and sat with him while he talked about all the mistakes he had made. He was certain Natalie would divorce him, and before Olivia realized what was happening, she became his counselor, even suggesting ways he might discuss his problems with her sister.

  “I should have told her about the loan, and he’s right,” George said, tilting his head toward Grayson. “I did borrow the money from a loan shark. I should get it all out in the open, shouldn’t I? How will Natalie ever forgive me if I keep secrets? Could I text Natalie?” he asked Ronan, who had taken his cell phone. “I’ll tell her now.”

  “No,” Ronan answered.

  “George, you can’t text that information or e-mail her. You have to sit down with her and explain.” Olivia couldn’t believe he thought it was okay to drop that bomb in a text. How would he phrase it? Oh, by the way, I owe around five hundred thousand to a man who will break my legs if I don’t pay up soon? “She might understand,” she told him. If she had a lobotomy first, she thought. “I’ll help you tell her if you want.”

  “You would do that?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Grayson was about to drag Olivia into the living room and ask her what the hell she was doing when George whispered, “I can help you, too.”

  She wanted to nudge Grayson and say, “Ah ha! See what happens when you’re patient?” She didn’t, though. She kept her attention on George and asked, “How can you help?”

  “He keeps files.” His voice gained strength, now that he’d made up his mind to share the information. “Your father keeps files hidden.”

  “Where?” Grayson demanded, his tone surly.

  George immediately shut down. Olivia shook her head at Grayson. “Have you seen the files?” she asked softly.

  “I shouldn’t . . . he’s my father-in-law, and every dollar Natalie and I have is tied up in investments he’s made for us.”

  Grayson and Ronan looked as though they wanted to grab George by the throat. Olivia remained calm and refused to give up.

  “It’s time for you to get a backbone, George.” She put her hand on his and with sincere compassion said, “Do the right thing.”

  He rubbed his brow and kept silent for another minute. “They’re in the wall in his study.”

  “The New York apartment study?” Ronan asked. “Or are they in San Francisco or Miami?”

  “New York. I swear you’d never know the wall moved. There aren’t any panels. It looks just like . . . a wall. He doesn’t know I saw him, thank God. None of us are allowed to go into his study, even when he’s there, and he always keeps the door locked. I made a joke about it once. I think I called it Fort Knox or something, and he exploded. I was in shock. It’s the first time I’d ever seen him lose his temper like that. I saw that ugly side of him again tonight.”

  “When did you see the files?” Olivia asked.

  “About a month ago. Natalie and your mother were in the dining room, and I went down the hall to knock on the study door to tell him dinner was ready. The door was open a crack. I was surprised because that never happened. I almost didn’t look in, but . . . you know . . . curiosity.”

  “And what did you see?” she asked.

  “Your father had his back to me, and he was putting a file folder away. I swear the entire wall moved. I got away from the door as fast as I could because I knew he’d kill me if he saw me watching.”

  Grayson took a call and left the room. Ronan leaned against the wall, going through George’s cell phone messages while Olivia and George continued to talk.

  “Did my mother know men were coming here tonight?” Olivia asked.

  “I don’t think so. She usually just repeats whatever your father says. She thinks she’s being a supportive wife.”

  “What about Natalie? Did she know?”

  “No. This was all Carl Simmons and your father. Start to finish.”

  Ronan had just read one of many angry texts from Natalie demanding to know where George was when another text appeared. After he read it, he said, “The son of a bitch is going to try to shred those files.”

  Grayson had just returned to the kitchen, and Ronan tossed him the phone. He quickly read it, cursed, and said, “Yes, that’s exactly what he’s going to do.”

  “What happened?” Olivia asked.

  “Natalie sent George a text. Your father has decided to fly back to New York right away. He’s on his way to the airport, and you, George, are an ingrate because you bailed on the party. I guess that’s still going on.”

  “He’s going home now?” George asked. “He left his own party to go home? He’s got his own jet, so he can get back to his apartment in a couple of hours.”

  “McGraw’s the lead on this in New York,” Grayson said. “He just called, and I told him about the files in the wall. He’s putting an agent on MacKenzie’s door just in case he slips past the others.”

  “What about Simmons?” Ronan asked.

  “He left the party right after Olivia’s father. We’ll find him.”

  “Are you taking me in?” George asked. He looked frantic.

  “Yes,” Ronan answered. “In fact, we’re leaving now.”

  “Wait, please,” Olivia called. “I’d like to ask George another question.”

  “Go ahead,” Ronan said.

  She looked George in the eye and asked, “Do you think Simmons hired someone to shoot me?”

  He hesitated several seconds and then nodded. “He’s capable of it. I wouldn’t have thought that a year ago, but now . . . yes. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to shoot you himself. I don’t have proof that he’s involved, though.”

  Olivia nodded. “That’s okay.”

  ??
?Except . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “When Carl was talking to Kline in the lobby, I heard him say he wouldn’t be upset if something happened on the drive to Marydale tonight. I thought he was joking because he was smiling, but then he told Kline not to mess up again.”

  “You left that part out before, didn’t you?” Ronan said.

  George nodded but insisted it hadn’t been on purpose. “That could mean anything, couldn’t it?”

  Grayson towered over him. “What do you think it meant?” he asked.

  George seemed to shrink before their eyes. “I guess it could mean that Simmons had hired Kline to shoot Olivia, and he messed up because . . .”

  “I didn’t die,” Olivia finished.

  “Yes, but it could have meant something altogether different, and that’s why I didn’t mention it.” He put both hands up. “I know, I know. I should have told you everything.”

  He looked at Olivia then. “That’s why I was going to ride all the way to the mental facility with you. I wanted to make sure Kline didn’t hurt you. I was going to protect you.”

  “By hurt her you mean kill her,” Ronan stated.

  “Yes.”

  “If you were going to protect her, why did you run the second she opened the door?”

  He bowed his head. “I got scared, but I was going to wait in the van. I didn’t want to watch them drug her. I didn’t want to be a part of that.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ronan said.

  “You are part of it,” Grayson said.

  Olivia could see his anger building and sought to diffuse it before he punched George. She got up from the table and went to Grayson.

  “Could I please be there when you question Simmons? I can’t wait to hear the spin he puts on this.”

  Her smile calmed him. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Grayson suddenly needed to be alone with her, to hold her, to love her. With that thought in mind, he vigorously helped George to his feet. Ronan then gripped his arm and shoved him toward the front door. A minute later, as Grayson was sliding the deadbolt into place behind them, he could hear George blubbering once again that his life sucked. Grayson had to agree.

  He returned to Olivia. “I want to go to bed,” he said, reaching for her.