My sleepy-looking boyfriend grinned. ‘‘I’m not sure it was all you. Nature might have had a hand in it.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said, and moved aside. ‘‘It’s all yours.’’
Dutch caught me as I tried to step past him. Lifting my chin, he looked intently at me. ‘‘What’s up?’’
‘‘Bad dreams.’’
‘‘Want to talk about it?’’
I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead, to my surprise, I started to cry.
‘‘Aw, honey,’’ he said, pulling me into his chest. ‘‘Shhhhhh. It’s okay. It was only a dream.’’
‘‘Will you make me a solemn promise?’’ I asked him, wiping at my eyes.
‘‘You name it,’’ he said.
‘‘Will you not take any chances with Robillard? I mean, if you suspect that he’s on to your investigation even in the slightest, will you please let it go?’’
I could feel Dutch stiffen slightly. This was the first time we’d talked about Robillard in a long time. ‘‘I’m careful, Abs,’’ he said, but I could detect just the smallest hint of worry in his own voice. ‘‘And I’ve almost got him,’’ he added. ‘‘I’m very close to getting the evidence to nail him, so don’t worry, okay?’’
I picked my head up and looked into his beautiful midnight blues. ‘‘I mean it, Dutch,’’ I said, feeling another shiver. ‘‘Do not take chances. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat, without thinking about it and with absolutely no remorse.’’ Dutch opened up his mouth to say something, but I interrupted him. ‘‘And then, after he kills you, he’ll come after me.’’
Dutch blinked and looked into my eyes earnestly. ‘‘The dream?’’ he asked after a moment. I nodded.
Dutch blew out a sigh and pulled me into a fierce embrace. ‘‘Okay,’’ he said. ‘‘You win. When I get back to Michigan, I’ll take myself off the case.’’
I hugged him back fiercely and whispered, ‘‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’’
* * *
Hours later as the sun came up and he and I were snuggling together, he said, ‘‘I should take you to Vegas more often.’’
I giggled. We’d just had a little one-on-one time—if you get my drift—and I’d been particularly... er... enthusiastic. ‘‘Must be this desert air,’’ I said, drawing circles with my finger on his chest. ‘‘It makes me frisky.’’
‘‘That settles it. We’re moving here,’’ he announced, and I laughed heartily.
‘‘Oh, I don’t think you could handle me being frisky all the time.’’
‘‘I’m willing to take that risk,’’ he said, grinning ear to ear.
I rolled my eyes. ‘‘So what happened at the station with that happy couple Bambina and Ricky?’’
Dutch made a derisive sound. ‘‘What a couple of losers,’’ he said. ‘‘Total waste of time. We started out with Bambina, hoping the haze would wear off and she’d be itchin’ to tell us what she knew, but she’s either really stupid or really good at acting stupid.’’
‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘She insists that Delgado called her around midweek last week and said he’d be out of town for the next two weeks. She hasn’t seen him in a whole week.’’
‘‘Does her cell phone back that up?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘A call from a phone registered to Delgado did come in five days ago around eleven at night, but that could have been about anything. We only have her word.’’
‘‘What does the son say?’’
‘‘Same story,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘Which makes me think they got their stories straight ahead of time.’’
‘‘What did the security guard say?’’
‘‘He hasn’t seen Delgado since last Monday either.’’
‘‘But he and Chase were abducted this past Saturday morning,’’ I reasoned.
‘‘Exactly,’’ Dutch said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. ‘‘But there’s no flight record of Delgado going anywhere.’’
‘‘So where was he from Monday to Saturday?’’
‘‘That’s the sixty-five-thousand-dollar question, Abs,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And, to make matters worse, we’re also having a hard time finding motive for Ricky and Bambina to want to pull this thing off. By every indication we can see, Delgado’s worth a butt load of money, but the son has access to a very healthy trust fund, plus he’s the silent partner in most of his father’s businesses. There’s no job title, of course, and by everything we can see, Ricky’s paid to do absolutely nothing. Without dear old Dad around to continue to bring in the dough, Junior’s looking at a significant reduction in income.’’
‘‘Maybe it’s resentment?’’ I argued. ‘‘Maybe Ricky got sick of taking orders from his old man and wanted to teach him a lesson, so he hires some thugs to kidnap his dad and hold him for ransom while he hits dat thang.’’
Dutch picked his head up off the pillow and looked at me. ‘‘ ‘Hits dat thang’?’’ he quoted.
I narrowed my eyes back at him. ‘‘It’s slang for—’’
‘‘I know what it’s slang for. I just didn’t think there was an eighteen-year-old rapper hidden inside my girlfriend.’’
‘‘Whatevs... ,’’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘‘Back to the happy couple. My theory may be right.’’
‘‘Anything’s possible,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘But Ricky doesn’t strike me as the smart half of the Bambina and Ricky show.’’
‘‘He’s dumber than her?’’
‘‘Hard to imagine, but, yes. He peed his pants the moment Brosseau entered the interrogation room. He kept begging us not to tell his dad about ‘hitting dat thang.’ ’’
‘‘It doesn’t sound as good coming out of your mouth. Maybe you need a hand gesture,’’ I said, curling my two middle fingers down and jamming my hand out and down.
Dutch laughed. ‘‘Yeah, that makes it credible.’’
‘‘Have we heard anything from the dragon lady?’’
‘‘Ah, Paloma Delgado, such charm, such sincerity,’’ he said with a mocking smile. ‘‘No, nothing new and no instructions have come in yet. And the more time we spend chasing our tails, the worse the odds are for Chase.’’
‘‘So what are you going to do now?’’ I asked.
Dutch scratched his head. ‘‘I’m limited in my abilities to butt in here,’’ he finally said. ‘‘The moment I start pushing my weight around and calling the shots is when things will start to go downhill fast. All I can do is suggest and give my opinion.’’
‘‘But if it helps bring Chase home faster,’’ I reasoned, ‘‘wouldn’t you want to do everything you could, no matter what the personal cost?’’
‘‘What would you have me do, Abby?’’ Dutch asked.
‘‘Call in the local FBI,’’ I said. ‘‘Let them come in, take over the jurisdiction, and you can work as a visiting agent, on loan from the Michigan bureau.’’
‘‘I can’t do that,’’ Dutch said firmly.
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘Because it’d be a bad thing if I did. For everybody.’’
I lost patience and sat up to face him. ‘‘I can’t believe you’re not willing to risk your career over your family, Dutch! He’s your cousin! You guys are like brothers! For God’s sake, lay the freakin’ cards on the table and use every available tool at your disposal!’’
‘‘Don’t you think I know he’s family, Abby?!’’ Dutch snapped. ‘‘Of course I want to lay everything out on the table, but there’s desperate and there’s smart, and right now it is best for everybody, including my family, if I play it smart!’’
I stared at my boyfriend for several long seconds without speaking. It was getting rarer that he lost his temper with me, even though I tested his patience continually. Oh yeah, I can be a total brat when I want to. ‘‘Okay,’’ I finally said. ‘‘You’re at a better vantage point than I am to look at this situation. If you don’t think it will help to call the local bureau, then I’ll support that
.’’
Dutch was breathing hard and glaring at me. The nerve I’d struck was apparently still exposed. ‘‘I’m gonna take a shower,’’ he said, and got up out of the bed. When the bathroom door shut firmly behind him, I lay back on the bed and shook my head.
‘‘Will I ever learn?’’ I muttered.
* * *
I took a shower after Dutch and when I came out, he was on the phone and rummaging around in my purse. ‘‘Can I help you?’’ I asked.
He looked up and his eyes were gentle again. After saying to the person on the other end, ‘‘Hold on a sec,’’ he placed the receiver against his chest and explained, ‘‘I’m looking for the Brosseaus’ address. Remember how I wanted to send the flowers?’’ I walked over and held out my hand. Dutch put my purse in my outstretched hand and said, ‘‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to invade your space there.’’
‘‘No worries. I’ve been through your shaving kit,’’ I said. That won me a grin and I dug into my purse, pulling up the gum wrapper. ‘‘Two seventy-nine Desert Bloom Road,’’ I said.
Dutch repeated the address into the phone and I tucked the gum wrapper back into my purse. He was off the phone a few minutes later and looked at me expectantly. ‘‘You ready to roll?’’
‘‘I am,’’ I said. ‘‘Where exactly are we rolling to?’’
‘‘While you were in the shower, I got a call from Laney. She sounds bad and she wants me to stop by.’’
‘‘That poor woman,’’ I said, feeling for her.
Dutch grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys and we walked to the door. ‘‘You got your key card?’’ he asked.
‘‘Sure,’’ I said, yet my radar said I didn’t. ‘‘Wait,’’ I said, sifting through my purse. ‘‘Crap, where did I leave it?’’ My radar said to look in the bathroom, and sure enough, when I went there, it was on the counter under a towel.
‘‘Found it,’’ I said, coming back out. ‘‘Okay, now I’m ready.’’
We headed out of the hotel and into the parking garage. When we were settled and driving up the ramp to get to the Strip, Dutch said, ‘‘After we check in with Laney, I want to go back to Mrs. Delgado’s place.’’
‘‘The dragon lady,’’ I mumbled.
‘‘Be nice,’’ he said.
‘‘Have you met her?’’ I said. ‘‘That is nice.’’
‘‘Abs,’’ Dutch said, his tone telling me to chill.
‘‘Fine, whatever,’’ I said. Then I noticed that his brow was wet with perspiration. The AC was on at full blast and with that, I was bordering on chilly. ‘‘How’re you feeling?’’ I said, reaching up to feel his brow.
‘‘Not great,’’ he admitted. ‘‘My stomach’s upset again.’’
‘‘And you’re running a temp,’’ I said. ‘‘Dutch, maybe you’ve got something more than food poisoning.’’
‘‘Could be the flu,’’ he said, then glanced at me. ‘‘You okay?’’
‘‘I’m fine. What if on the way to Delgado’s we stop off at a clinic or something?’’
‘‘If it is the flu, Abs, there’s nothing they can do for me. They’ll just tell me to drink plenty of liquids and take it easy.’’
‘‘Which isn’t a bad idea. Pull over at that gas station and let’s get you some Gatorade.’’
Dutch pulled into a Shell station and while he gassed up the car, I dodged in and got several bottles of water and two big jugs of Gatorade. We were back on the road in a jiffy and I was forcing him to sip at the Gatorade. ‘‘This tastes awful,’’ he said. ‘‘What flavor is it?’’
‘‘Riptide Rush,’’ I said.
Dutch shook his head and put the lid back on the Gatorade. ‘‘Maybe it’s an acquired taste. Anyway, after we talk to Mrs. Delgado, we’ll head back to the police station and visit with our old friends Bambina and Ricky.’’
‘‘Bimbo and the Rat.’’
Dutch looked at me. ‘‘You live to be sarcastic, don’t you?’’
I smiled sweetly at him. ‘‘You gotta find the fun in life where you can.’’
* * *
We arrived at Laney’s and Dutch parked in her driveway. We made our way to the front door, which was pulled open even before we could knock. ‘‘Thank God you’re here,’’ she said. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and puffy.
‘‘What’s happened?’’ Dutch asked as she held the door open for us.
Laney closed the door and motioned us into the living room. Hurrying over to the computer on the small desk in the corner of the room, she sat down and began typing. ‘‘I went online this morning,’’ she explained. ‘‘The mortgage payment was due yesterday and I wanted to make sure Chase had taken care of it. And he had, but...’’ and then her breath caught and she began to sob.
Dutch moved in and squatted down next to her. Rubbing her back, he said gently, ‘‘It’s all right, Laney. Tell me what’s happened and we’ll figure it out.’’
Laney pointed to the computer screen and both Dutch and I squinted at it. There were several columns on the screen and several rows were in bold red with little negative signs next to the dollar values there. ‘‘It... it’s gone!’’ Laney sobbed. ‘‘All our money is gone!’’
Dutch used the mouse to scroll up and down the page. The mortgage payment and a few other bills had bounced, leaving a trail of bank fees and a substantially negative balance in the account. ‘‘When was the last time you checked your balance?’’ Dutch asked.
‘‘Last week,’’ Laney moaned. ‘‘Things have been tight since the baby came, but I had that student loan I told you about come through last week for a little over ten thousand dollars. All of it’s been wiped out, Dutch!’’
‘‘Have you called your bank?’’
Laney nodded. ‘‘Yes, this morning. They said that a check was cashed at their drive-through the day before yesterday for the entire amount in our checking account. They were going to send me a scan of it as soon as they could.’’
Dutch pulled out his wallet and checked the contents. Pulling out all but a few of the bills, he handed these to Laney. ‘‘First of all,’’ he said, ‘‘we can fix this, so don’t panic.’’
Laney shoved the money back at Dutch. ‘‘I can’t take your money, Dutch.’’
‘‘The hell you can’t, Laney. You and Hanna are family. I take care of my family, okay?’’ Laney was still leaking tears and Dutch wiped them away. ‘‘I never did get you guys a housewarming gift. Consider this it.’’
Laney finally took the bills. ‘‘Thank you so much,’’ she said. ‘‘But this is a loan.’’
‘‘Fine,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And if a fraud was committed, then the bank will insure your funds. They’ll replenish the account and remove the fees.’’
‘‘How long do you think that will take?’’
‘‘Day or two,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And in the meantime, I’m going to cover your mortgage payment so you won’t have to worry about it.’’ Laney again shook her head no, but Dutch insisted. ‘‘Don’t even think about arguing this with me, because you will lose.’’
‘‘He’s right, Laney,’’ I agreed. ‘‘Once his mind is made up, he doesn’t back down.’’
‘‘I can cut you a check as soon as they put the money back in the account, Dutch.’’
Dutch smiled. ‘‘Of course you can,’’ he said. ‘‘But for now, it’s one less thing you’ll have to worry about.’’
Dutch called his bank back in Michigan and gave the wire instructions for the funds to Laney’s mortgage company, including a twenty-dollar returned-check fee. After that was done, Laney called her neighbor and begged her to babysit Hanna while we went to the bank.
The three of us were escorted in to see the manager, who seemed somewhat prepared for our visit. ‘‘I thought you might drop by, Mrs. Rivers,’’ he said to Laney.
‘‘Mr. Thompson, this is my husband’s cousin FBI agent Dutch Rivers,’’ Laney said, introducing Dutch.
The mention of
Dutch’s title had a significant effect on Mr. Thompson. ‘‘I can assure you, Agent Rivers, we are working very hard to get to the bottom of this.’’
‘‘The bureau would appreciate it,’’ Dutch said, throwing his weight around for the first time since we’d landed in Vegas.
Mr. Thompson reached for a piece of paper in a file. ‘‘This is a scan of the check that was cashed,’’ he said, handing it to Laney. ‘‘The signature matches your husband’s,and the check is made out to cash. There is also a separate withdrawal slip that was included with the check in the drive-through dispenser, and that was for all but one dollar of your savings account.’’
Laney’s mouth dropped. ‘‘This is impossible,’’ she said.
Dutch looked pointedly at the bank manager. ‘‘Mr. Thompson, my cousin was recently abducted along with a prominent businessman on Saturday morning. If he signed this check and this deposit slip, I can assure you it was under threat of great bodily harm to either himself or his family.’’
Mr. Thompson turned ashen. ‘‘That’s terrible,’’ he said. Turning to his computer, he swiveled the screen around so that we could see. ‘‘And it might explain this videotape caught by our camera at the drive-through. I took the liberty of reviewing it after I received your call, Mrs. Rivers. We don’t monitor these tapes unless there’s a problem—otherwise I’m sure we would have contacted you.’’
The bank manager pressed a button and the screen populated with a very grainy picture of two men in a car. The first man appeared thin as he sat behind the wheel of the car wearing a baseball cap and large mirrored sunglasses. He had a thick mustache and wore a sweatshirt, and one of his hands was held low, out of the camera’s view. The angle of his arm seemed to show that it was pointing at the other passenger.
The other passenger was clearly Chase Rivers. His blond hair was ruffled, his lip was swollen and cut, and one eye looked black-and-blue. The look on his face was lethal as he stared at the driver with menace. ‘‘Chase!’’ Laney yelped. ‘‘Ohmigod! He’s alive!’’
Dutch flipped open his cell phone and punched in some numbers. ‘‘Bob? It’s Dutch,’’ he said. ‘‘I need you and a team of techs to get down to the Bank of America on Westcliff immediately. I’ve got a break in the Delgado case.’’