‘‘Roger,’’ Nora said, and saluted.
‘‘Call us the moment you move Laney into the kitchen, and make sure the television is on,’’ said Candice. ‘‘That way, if the Feds have any listening devices, all they’ll hear is the TV.’’
‘‘Candice,’’ I said gently. ‘‘We’ve been through this. Let her get on with it!’’
‘‘Good luck,’’ Candice said.
Nora hurried down the driveway just to our right with her plate of brownies. Candice edged the minivan forwardso that we could watch her cut through one yard and into another, quickly hurrying down the driveway lest she be spotted by the homeowners. Once she’d made it to the street beyond, we boogied to the lot of a grocery store, where we wouldn’t look so suspicious.
As we found a parking spot, Candice’s phone rang and she hit the speaker button. ‘‘Hello?’’ we heard Laney’s voice say. ‘‘Abby, are you there?’’
‘‘I’m here, Laney,’’ I said, feeling a flood of relief hit me. ‘‘How are you holding up?’’
‘‘Not good,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m worried sick about our boys.’’
‘‘I know, but they’re both still alive, if that’s any consolation.’’ Before getting in the minivan, I had checked both the photo of Chase and Dutch’s computerized image. Chase’s photo was fine, but to my horror, Dutch’s image seemed to be fading ever so slightly from a three-dimensional image into a slightly more plastic and flat appearance.
‘‘Oh, thank God!’’ Laney said, emotion clear in her voice. ‘‘Dutch came by the night before the accident,’’ she added. Someone had obviously filled her in on Jane’s crashing Dutch’s car.
‘‘He did?’’ I said.
‘‘Yes. He stopped by around eight and asked if he could look at my bank records again to make sure the bank was good on their word about removing their fees.’’
My radar hummed, and I knew that Dutch had had some kind of ulterior motive with this request of his cousin’s wife. ‘‘How long did he stay?’’ I asked.
‘‘About an hour,’’ she said. ‘‘He looked at my records online, we talked for a little while, then he said he had to check something out, and he was gone.’’
‘‘Do you know where he went?’’ I asked.
‘‘No.’’
‘‘What was he asking you about?’’
‘‘Mostly about Chase and me, how we were doing as a couple.’’
‘‘I don’t get it,’’ I said. ‘‘What’d he mean by that?’’
There was an audible sigh through the phone and Laney didn’t speak for a few moments until she said, ‘‘I know Dutch didn’t share this with you, but about two months ago Chase and I separated.’’
Candice, Cat, and I stared at one another, completely stunned. ‘‘You’re kidding,’’ I said.
‘‘It was only for about two weeks or so, but with Hanna and our money worries we weren’t getting along at all. One night Chase called me and said he needed some time to think, that he didn’t know if he could handle being a father with all this responsibility. I was desperate, and I called Dutch, who flew out immediately and talked some sense into Chase. He hired him to head his security company out here and that gave us some real, steady income for the first time in a long time. Dutch even told Chase that he had a special assignment for him, and I think that gave my husband a real sense of importance. Chase was able to quit working two jobs and he came home and we got on with our lives.’’
‘‘And since then things have been good between you?’’ I asked, sensing that there was still a little more to it.
‘‘Honestly?’’ she said. ‘‘No. It’s been hard, Abby. Chase is different, and I can’t really tell you how or why, but since he’s been back, he’s been keeping more to himself, and he’s not as engaged with Hanna as he was when she was first born.’’
‘‘Ask her about the tree,’’ Cat encouraged.
‘‘Say, Laney,’’ I said, getting back to why we’d come, ‘‘I realize this is a crazy question, but did you and Chase maybe plant a tree in Hanna’s name when she was born?’’
‘‘No,’’ Laney said. ‘‘We didn’t. But it’s funny you should ask me that, Abby.’’
‘‘Why’s that?’’
‘‘Because Dutch asked me pretty much the same thing, but he asked me if Chase had done anything crazy or out of character when Hanna was born. The only thing I could think of was that the day after she was born, Chase told me he’d purchased three cemetery plots.’’
I stared with confusion at the cell phone. ‘‘He what?’’
‘‘I know, crazy, huh?’’
‘‘And morbid,’’ I said as Candice and Cat both nodded.
‘‘I thought so too, but you have to know Chase. He was working two jobs to help with all our expenses and his second job was as a night watchman at this cemetery. He was fascinated by the place—apparently lots of famous Las Vegas people are buried there. Anyway, he said he got this amazing deal on three plots right next to each other. The cemetery cut him a discount because he’d been doing such a good job at reducing the juvenile vandalism there.
‘‘Anyway, I was furious. I mean, we had just made a deposit on the house and our expenses were really tight with all my school loans and credit cards and the new baby, but Chase has never been good with money, and his reasoning was that it was an expression of love to our daughter. He told me that this way our daughter would be with us forever, from the cradle to the grave.’’
As Laney talked, my whole body began to tingle. ‘‘What’s the name of the cemetery?’’ I demanded.
Laney hesitated before answering, obviously taken aback by my tone. ‘‘I... I don’t remember,’’ she said. ‘‘I mean, I’m sure he told me, but I was pretty distracted with school and the baby, not to mention that I was so pissed off that he’d squandered our money like that. I told him I didn’t want to hear another word about it, especially when he told me we couldn’t get our money back. Neither one of us has brought it up again since then because of all the other tension between us.’’
‘‘Did he leave any literature about the cemetery around the house? Is there a file or something where you think you might be able to find it?’’
‘‘Um... ,’’ Laney said. ‘‘I’m not sure.’’
Candice had already reached for her laptop and she was furiously clicking away on the keys. ‘‘Was it the Palm Meadows Mortuaries?’’
My mind filled with an explosion of imagery. The oak tree morphing into the palm tree and the gravestone emerging up from the ground. ‘‘Ohmigod!’’ Laney said. ‘‘I think that’s it!’’
‘‘Laney!’’ Candice commanded as she slipped her laptop back into her bag and handed it to Jane, who tucked it next to her. ‘‘Tell Nora to get back to the van now!’’
We zipped out of the grocery-store parking lot and sped back over to Laney’s neighborhood. Nora met us in the driveway of the house where we’d dropped her off, puffing and huffing as if she’d been running. We opened the door and Cat helped her in. ‘‘We gotta get outta here!’’ she said. ‘‘I was barely down the street before I heard those agents in the sedan run up to Laney’s house and start pounding on the door!’’
You didn’t have to tell Candice twice; she pushed hard on the gas and we sped away as fast as the minivan could go. ‘‘Everyone, buckle up!’’ she ordered.
I pulled the seat belt across and lost the cell phone I’d been holding. ‘‘Shit,’’ I said when it slipped under the seat.
‘‘I got it,’’ Jane said.
‘‘It’s Candice’s,’’ I explained when she tried to hand it back. ‘‘Can you put it in her bag with her laptop?’’
‘‘Sure,’’ Jane said as Candice pulled hard on the steering wheel and we all swerved to the left.
Ugh! Jane, Cat, and Nora chorused from the backseat as they mashed into one another.
‘‘Sorry!’’ Candice said. ‘‘But here comes another one!’’ and she pulled the wheel to the
right this time.
‘‘I’m moving to the back row,’’ Jane said, and squeezed over the second row to the third row when Candice straightened out the van.
We got onto the highway and wove in and out of traffic. ‘‘He’s at the cemetery,’’ I said anxiously.
‘‘That’s where I’m heading,’’ Candice said.
‘‘Start with family,’’ I said, shaking my head like I really should have known.
‘‘What?’’ asked Candice, swerving to avoid a collision with a pickup truck.
‘‘When Dutch and I first got to the strip club where Delgado had been abducted, my crew said to start with family.’’
‘‘And you naturally assumed it was Delgado’s family.’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ I said. ‘‘I never did pick up that maybe Chase was behind it all along.’’
I glanced behind me in the van. My sister and Nora had their eyes pinned to the windshield, and their hands gripped the sides of the van. Jane sat in the very back, her head down, trying to make herself as small as possible.
I turned back to Candice. ‘‘You’re terrifying the passengers,’’ I said as we swerved again, narrowly missing an eighteen-wheeler.
‘‘Well, I can focus better if no one’s talking to me,’’ Candice said with the barest hint of a grin. ‘‘Besides, we’re almost there.’’
Candice took the next exit driving sixty miles per hour; the posted speed limit was thirty. She ignored the hint and I felt the minivan’s right wheels lift a little off the ground as she made the turn around the exit ramp. ‘‘We’re going to tip over!’’ Nora yelled, but Candice regained control and we leveled off on our four tires again.
‘‘The cemetery is up ahead,’’ Candice advised.
‘‘Thank God!’’ Cat said behind me. ‘‘Abby, you drive us after we find Dutch, okay?’’
Candice got us to the Palm Meadows parking lot, and the moment the car was put in park, three doors opened and four people leaped out as if the van were on fire. Candice was the last to get out, looking at us quizzically. ‘‘Oh, it wasn’t that bad,’’ she said when she saw our faces.
‘‘Candice,’’ said Cat, ‘‘I believe I speak for everyone when I tell you that it really was.’’
‘‘Come on,’’ I said, moving to the large iron gate that guarded the entrance. I tugged at it and checked my watch. It was well after seven p.m. and the gate was locked tight. ‘‘We’ll have to go up and over.’’
‘‘I’m in,’’ said Candice, and the two of us looked at the other three behind us.
‘‘I’m pregnant,’’ said Jane. ‘‘I don’t think I can get over that thing.’’
Nora looked at us skeptically. ‘‘There’s no way,’’ she said as her gaze drifted to the ten-foot fence.
‘‘I’ll stay with them,’’ Cat said. ‘‘You two will be faster on your own. Call us the moment you find Dutch.’’
Nora handed me my cell and I tucked it into my back pocket. Candice cupped her hand and edged over to the fence, where she bent down on one knee and braced herself. ‘‘I’m going to get Abby to the top of the fence. Then I’ll need some help from you guys to go up behind her.’’
I stepped into Candice’s cupped hands and felt myself lifted in the air. ‘‘You’re lucky you’re light,’’ she groaned as I stretched my arms up and gripped the metal railing.
I swung my legs up and wrapped them around the top bar, then pulled up my torso, shimmied over to the other side of the fence, where I swung down, and let go, landing hard on the ground on the other side.
Nora moved over to help Candice. ‘‘I’m a little heavier than Abby,’’ she admitted.
‘‘I threw shot put in college,’’ Nora said. ‘‘I think I can handle your skinny butt,’’ and with that, Candice was lifted high in the air with relative ease.
She followed my technique and dropped to the ground beside me, wiping her hands. ‘‘Again, Nora, anytime you want a job as a sidekick, you’re hired.’’
Nora smiled from the other side of the fence. ‘‘Be careful,’’ she advised.
Candice and I turned and headed into the cemetery. There were no lights, but we could still see well enough to vaguely make out shapes. Candice reached into her bag and came up with a flashlight. Clicking it on, she said, ‘‘Which direction?’’
My radar gave me a tug to the right. ‘‘This way,’’ I said, and we trotted forward, skipping around tomb-stones and flowers. ‘‘Over here,’’ I said as we crested a small hill and I moved even farther to the right, my internal compass pulling me forward.
We came to an intersection toward the heart of the cemetery and I gazed around. I had stopped feeling that pulling sensation and I was aware that something was right in front of me, but I couldn’t see what. Finally, my eyes fell on a huge oak tree at the top of another small hill and beside that was a white marble mausoleum. I stepped forward onto the road that led there and my foot kicked at a coconut from one of the many palm trees also on the grounds.
I bent to pick it up, remembering my grandmother’s advice. ‘‘Follow the coconuts,’’ she’d said. My eyes strayed to the ground again and I could just make out what looked like a line of coconuts leading up the hill to the tomb under the oak tree.
‘‘He’s in there!’’ I said, and dashed forward. ‘‘Dutch!’’ I called. ‘‘Dutch!’’
Candice was right behind me and we hurried to the structure at the top of the hill. As we approached, I could see in the glint of Candice’s flashlight the lettering over the metal doors that marked the tomb’s entrance. OUR LADY OF SAINTS WATCHES OVER US was carved into the marble wall.
We got to the double doors and I yanked at the handle. It was locked. Inside I swore I heard a moan. ‘‘Dutch!’’ I yelled as I pounded on the door. ‘‘We’re coming!’’
‘‘Abby,’’ Candice said, ‘‘stand back!’’
I did as she instructed and she reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a small tool kit. Handing me the flashlight, she said, ‘‘Hold the beam so that I can see the lock.’’
I did as she instructed and she inserted a key that was in her kit. I was completely puzzled, especially when she took out a small hammer. ‘‘Let’s hope this works,’’ she said. She put her ear to the key and moved it in and out a little until she was satisfied with its position; then she hit the key with the hammer hard just once and tried turning the key. Amazingly, it turned.
‘‘Key blocking,’’ she said. ‘‘Some of the old locks have flat-headed tumblers and this works. The newer ones have rounded tumblers and this doesn’t work at all. We got lucky—this is an old lock.’’
Turning the key more, she pulled at the door and it opened. I dashed around her into the room, the beam of the flashlight darting around the musty and slightly decaying room. ‘‘Abs,’’ came a hoarse whisper and my light whipped around and lit on Dutch, but I nearly dropped it when I saw him in the harsh glare of the beam.
‘‘Oh, God!’’ I said, and ran to him. He was slick with sweat and burning up, his skin several degrees hotter than mine.
He groaned in pain and I noticed his right hand clutching his abdomen. ‘‘Something’s... wrong... ,’’ he panted.
‘‘Shit!’’ I said as I felt Candice crouch at my side. ‘‘He’s hurt!’’
Candice pulled the light from my hand and scanned Dutch. There was no blood, but it was clear he was in agony and fevered. ‘‘I think it’s his appendix,’’ she said.
Dutch moaned again. ‘‘Gotta... get me... out of... here,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s Chase.... He’s the one.’’
‘‘I know,’’ I said, feeling hot tears slide down my cheeks. ‘‘I know all about it, Dutch.’’
Candice was rummaging around in her bag. ‘‘Where’s my damn phone?’’ she growled. ‘‘It’s missing!’’
‘‘What?’’ I said, distracted by the terrible shape Dutch was in. ‘‘I’ve got mine,’’ I said, and quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. At tha
t exact moment it rang and I jumped. Reflexively I answered it. ‘‘Hello?!’’ I nearly shouted.
‘‘Abigail Cooper?’’ said a male voice that had a small degree of familiarity.
‘‘Yes, I can’t talk right now. I have to call an ambulance!’’
‘‘It’s Agent Gaston,’’ he said quickly. ‘‘What’s happened?’’
‘‘It’s Dutch!’’ I yelled into the phone. ‘‘He’s in bad shape! He needs an ambulance!’’
‘‘Where are you?’’
‘‘I’m at the Palm Meadows Cemetery at a tomb in the middle of the graveyard!’’
‘‘Stay put,’’ Gaston ordered. ‘‘I’ll send help immediately!’’
Dutch moaned again and Candice, who was still rummaging around in her bag, pulled something out and handed it to me. ‘‘Here,’’ she said as she gave me a bottled water. ‘‘See if you can get him to drink.’’
I tried getting some water to go past Dutch’s lips, but he was shivering so hard much of it just spilled down his front. ‘‘Shit!’ I said, easing him back against the wall.
‘‘Help should be here soon,’’ Candice said, but we were both alarmed by how bad Dutch looked.
That’s when I thought of something and I flipped the lid of my cell back open and punched in some digits. The line on the other end rang and rang, then went to voice mail. ‘‘Shit!’’ I swore, and suddenly I had an image of Jane in the backseat of the minivan with her head bent. On a hunch I punched in some other digits and to my surprise the line was picked up by Jane.
‘‘Hello,’’ she said, answering Candice’s phone. ‘‘Jane!’’ I said when she answered. ‘‘What are you doing with Candice’s phone?’’
‘‘I had a text to send,’’ she said easily.
A slow creepy feeling traveled its way up my spine, but I ignored it and focused on what I needed. ‘‘Put Nora on the phone,’’ I demanded. ‘‘We’ve found Dutch and he’s in terrible shape! He needs medical help, and he needs help now.’’