Sykes was of average height, a little stocky, and neatly dressed. His sandy hair was short and neat; he was clean-shaven, his nails pared and clean, clothes pressed. He didn’t look like anyone’s version of a hit man, but then Ted Bundy hadn’t looked like a monster, either. Criminals came in all shapes, sizes, colors, and could be wearing rags or diamonds. The smart ones wore diamonds. The really smart ones looked like this man.
Sykes was also very calm, and certain of what he wanted. “I want to cut a deal,” he said. “I can give you Mayor Nolan, the man who stabbed Chad Mitchell, a man named Elton Phillips, and a lot more. Let’s get the D.A. in here and talk.”
“We know who stabbed Mitchell,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. “Buddy Lemmons.”
Sykes didn’t even blink. “Miss Minor identified him, didn’t she?”
“She got a good look at all three of you.”
“So you’ve got her stashed someplace safe.”
Jack didn’t respond, just watched Sykes. The man had an excellent poker face, giving away nothing.
“There’s something a lot bigger than just a stupid piece of trash getting offed.” Sykes leaned back, too, as relaxed as Jack.
“I was wondering how the mayor is tied in.”
“There’s a lot of money in the sex trade,” Sykes said obliquely. “You going to call the D.A. or not? You need to move fast; there’s something big going down tonight.”
“The Russians,” said Jack.
Sykes whistled softly through his teeth, not even trying to hide his surprise. “Guess you know a lot more than I thought. But you don’t know where and you don’t know who.”
“I’m guessing Mayor Nolan does, though.”
“He’ll sing like Tweety Bird,” Sykes agreed.
“So why would the D.A. want to deal with you?”
“Because trust is a rare commodity, and I don’t have much of it.”
Jack studied the sandy-haired man, the clear, cold eyes and utter calm of his manner. “You’ve got the goods on all of them, don’t you? You documented everything.”
“That’s right.” Sykes gave a thin smile. “Just in case. I like having a little leverage when things go wrong. And sooner or later, they always go wrong. You just gotta learn when to get out.”
Jack left the room and placed the call to the district attorney in Scottsboro. If a deal had to be made, he thought Sykes would be a better state witness than Mayor Nolan, simply because Sykes struck him as more ruthless and organized. Sometimes you had to deal with the devil, and this was one of those times.
Then he called the motel where he’d left Daisy, wanting to give her the word that she was safe. The front desk switched him through to her room, and he listened to the ringing. Four rings. Five. Six. He began to sweat
Maybe the front desk had put him through to the wrong room; mistakes happened. He disconnected, called back, and asked for her room again. One ring. Two. A cold fist knotted in his chest She should be there. Three. Maybe she was getting something to eat at the Huddle House. Four.
Sykes was here. There was no way Daisy was in any danger now.
Five.
She wouldn’t have left for any reason, would she? She was safe there. But what if she’d come up with one of her off-the-wall plans and thought she could trap Sykes or the mayor?
Six.
Logic told him she was okay. The worst fear he’d ever known, however, whispered all sorts of scenarios to him, scenarios that ended with Daisy—
Seven.
He tried to imagine a life without Daisy in it, and it was like hitting a stone wall. Full stop. Nothing.
Eigh—
“Hello?” Her voice was a little breathless, as if she’d been running.
The relief that poured through him was almost as shattering as the fear had been. His hand tightened on the receiver, and he briefly closed his eyes, “What took you so long?” he growled.
“I was outside with Midas. Actually, the leash slipped out of my hand and I’ve been chasing him.”
He hadn’t meant to say anything, but he was still so shaken from those few moments of terror that the words slipped out. “I thought you’d left.”
She paused. “Left? As in left left, rather than just stepped outside for a minute or gone to get something to eat?”
“I was afraid you’d come up with one of your plans—”
“Have I ever given you any reason to think I’m stupid?” she demanded angrily. “I’m safe here; why would I leave? That’s what always happens in movies; either the woman or the kid disobeys instructions and does exactly what they’ve been told not to do, thereby putting both themselves and everyone else in danger. I’ve always thought that if they were that stupid, then let them die before they have a chance to breed. My goodness, you’d think I make a habit of—”
“Daisy,” he said softly.
She paused in her tirade. “Are you about to apologize?”
Maybe that would speed things up. “Yeah. I’m sorry I panicked.”
“Apology accepted,” she said in that prim voice that made him want to grin.
“I called with some good news, sweetheart. Sykes walked into the station a little while ago and gave him-self up, wanting to make a deal. You’re safe.”
“You mean it’s all over?”
“There’s some mopping up to do. I’ve been in contact with Morrison, and they haven’t found Lemmons and Calvin yet, but they will. The mayor’s wife got him on tape making threats against you, and Sykes is ready to roll over on everybody. I don’t know what time I’ll get back to pick you up.”
“So I don’t have to stay here tonight?”
“You might. This could go on all night.”
“When Todd brings my things, I’ll just have him drive me home instead.”
Guiltily, Jack glanced at his watch. It was after six, and he hadn’t remembered to call Todd at all. “I’ll try to catch him at his store, save him a trip.”
“You forgot to call him, didn’t you?”
He sighed. “Busted.”
“Under the circumstances, you’re forgiven. Has my mother called?”
He’d had his cell phone with him all day, even carrying it into the John with him, so he knew he hadn’t missed any calls. “Not yet.” Mrs. Minor wouldn’t wait too much longer before checking on Daisy, though.
“Just get her number, and I’ll call her back when I get home. Call Todd now,” she reminded him.
“I will.” He did, and luck was with him; Todd was still in Huntsville. Jack brought him up to date and asked him to pick up Daisy.
“Sure, no problem.” Todd paused. “Sykes mentioned the sex trade. He may have some information on the men I’m looking for, or on the dealers who sell the date-rape drugs.”
“The way this thing’s spreading out, anything’s possible. If you want to ask him some questions your-self, I can swing it.”
Another pause. “I can’t get officially involved.”
“I know. I’ll get the D.A. to question him about drugs, but if you want to talk to him personally later, just let me know.”
“For now, I’ll stay behind the scenes and see what the D.A. comes up with.”
“It’s your call. Just don’t forget to pick up Daisy. By the way, she has her puppy with her.”
Todd said warily, “You said that like you’re warning me about something.”
“You haven’t met Midas, have you?”
“What is he, a half-grown Great Dane?”
“He’s a six-week-old golden retriever. A ball of fuzz. Dogs don’t come any cuter. He melts hearts left and right.”
“And?”
“And don’t turn your back on him.”
Smiling, Jack hung up and went back into the room where his investigators were taking Sykes’s statement. Another investigator and a patrol officer were on their way to pick up Mayor Nolan and bring him in for questioning. They had gone from not knowing anything that morning to pretty much having things sewn up ton
ight. Some of it had been pure luck, such as his noticing Mrs. Nolan on the road back from Huntsville because she was driving erratically, but most of the events had been the direct result of someone doing something stupid. Even Glenn Sykes, who was pretty damn sharp, had been stupid to get involved in the first place. It all came down to the choices they made, and criminals in general made stupid choices.
When the D.A. and his assistant got there from Scottsboro, the D.A. was noticeably upset. He took Jack aside and said, “Elton Phillips is a very respected member of the community. We have to be very sure of what we have before I’m going to proceed an inch with this.”
“We have him on tape, and we have corroborating testimony from Mr. Sykes. I’m pretty damn sure.”
“Was the tape legally obtained?”
“Mayor Nolan’s wife taped it with the answering machine on her bedroom extension.”
The D.A. considered that. It was Mrs. Nolan’s own phone, and the mayor obviously knew there were extension phones in his house, therefore he couldn’t argue that he had an expectation of privacy concerning his telephone conversations. The legal ground seemed pretty solid.
“Okay, let’s see what Mr. Sykes has to tell us.”
When Temple Nolan saw the white city-owned car turn into his driveway, he took a deep breath and forced him-self to remain calm. Everything would be all right. Sykes’s suggestions had been reasonable; Jennifer’s wild telephone call could be explained away, as could his asking Russo to run a tag number for him. As Sykes had pointed out, since he hadn’t been able to find Daisy, no crime had been committed. If Daisy had realized she’d seen anything important in the parking lot of the Buffalo Club, she’d have already told someone. They were clear.
His doorbell rang. Quickly he took off his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, to give himself a casual, unworried look. Picking up a section of the Huntsville newspaper, he took it with him to answer the door; he looked like a man who had been reading the newspaper and unwinding, a man with nothing to hide.
He affected a look of mild surprise when he opened the door. “Richard,” he said to the investigator. “What’s up?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about an allegation your wife made this morning,” Investigator Richard Hill said, and he didn’t sound apologetic, either. That was a little worrisome, Nolan thought.
“Sure. Come on in. Nadine told me about Jennifer calling the library, but I didn’t think anyone would take it seriously. Jennifer . . . has a little problem with alcohol, you know.”
“Yes, sir,” said Investigator Hill. He eyed the news-paper, the rolled-up sleeves. “Settling down for the evening, sir?”
“It was an upsetting day. I brought some paperwork home with me; after I finish the paper and have supper, I’ll work on that for a while. Is something wrong?”
Hill looked at his wristwatch. “I’m just surprised you didn’t remember the city council meeting tonight,” he said calmly. “It started five minutes ago.”
The mayor froze, aghast. He’d never, in nine years, missed a city council meeting. Richard Hill knew something drastic would have to be wrong for him to totally forget about it. “I remembered,” he said, trying to cover himself. “But it seemed best to stay home with Jennifer tonight” Thank God he’d lowered the garage doors, so they couldn’t see that Jennifer’s car wasn’t in the bay.
“Mrs. Nolan is at the station,” said Investigator Hill, still very calm and polite. “If you’ll come with us, sir, we’ll drive you there.”
“Jennifer’s at the station?” God, what should he say now? How could he explain not knowing where she was? “Is she all right?” Good. A touch of concern. That was inspired.
“Mrs. Nolan’s just fine, sir.”
“That’s a relief, because she was . . . over the top this morning, if you know what I mean.”
“Please come with us.”
“Sure. I’ll take my car and follow you—”
“No, sir, I’d prefer you ride with us.”
Nolan stepped back, but Hill and the patrol officer smoothly flanked him and grasped his arms, forcing them behind his back. Handcuffs were quickly snapped around his wrists.
Outraged, he stared at the two men. “Get these cuffs off me! What do you think you’re doing? I’m not a criminal, and I refuse to be treated like one.”
“It’s procedure, sir, for your safety and ours. They’ll be removed at the station.” They physically shepherded him from the house, their grasps on his arms propelling him forward.
“You’re fired!” he ground out, his face turning dark red. “Both of you. There’s no excuse for this kind of treatment.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hill as they put him in the backseat of the car and closed the door.
Nolan could barely breathe, he was so furious. Jack Russo had to have instigated this, to get back at him for . . . surely not because he’d asked him to run Daisy’s tag number; that was ludicrous. But what else could it be? Maybe Russo was the insanely jealous type who went off the deep end at the least attention anyone paid to his girlfriend.
The only other explanation was that they believed Jennifer.
He began hyperventilating and forced himself to slow his breathing. He could handle this; all he had to do was stay calm. No matter what Jennifer said, he could put a spin on it that threw everything she said into doubt. After all, she was a drunk, and the whole town knew it. She had no proof, just one side of a telephone conversation that she’d overheard, and she was bound to have garbled it.
When they reached the police department, he was astonished at the number of cars there. Something was going on, something more than the city council meeting. Then he saw three of the city councilmen standing outside the glass doors leading into the station, and his stomach knotted. The sun was going down and the fierce heat had abated, but sweat adhered his shirt to his back as Hill opened the car door and assisted him from the backseat.
The city councilmen looked at him, but they didn’t make eye contact. It was as if they were watching an animal in a zoo, nothing more than a matter of curiosity.
“Take these cuffs off!” he said to Hill in a fierce undertone. “Goddamn it, the city council is watching.”
“I’ll take them off when we’re inside, sir,” said Hill, catching his arm.
Meaning when they had him where he couldn’t get away. Dizzily he looked around, and a familiar-looking car caught his eye. It was a gray Dodge, and it was parked in one of the slots reserved for the patrol cars, but no one seemed to care.
Sykes drove a gray Dodge, an ordinary car that he said no one ever noticed. This car had a Madison County tag on it; Sykes lived in Madison County, just outside Huntsville.
Why was Sykes here? If they had arrested him, they wouldn’t have let him drive here any more than they’d let Nolan. How had they even located him? There was no reason for Sykes to be here, unless—
Unless Sykes had turned on them.
He was hyperventilating again, colors running together in his vision. “Sykes!” he roared, lowering his shoulder and ramming it into Investigator Hill, breaking his hold. “Sykes!” He began running toward the station. “You bastard, Sykes! You motherfucking bastard, I’ll kill you!”
Investigator Hill and the patrol officer chased him, and the patrol officer made a diving tackle, wrapping both arms around the mayor’s knees and bringing him down. With his hands cuffed behind him, Nolan couldn’t catch himself, and he skidded face-first along the rough asphalt of the parking lot, leaving skin and blood behind. Mucus and blood poured from his broken nose as they hauled him to his feet. “Sykes,” he said again, but his mouth was full of blood and the word was unintelligible.
The city councilmen stepped to the side as they half-carried him through the doors, the councilmen’s expressions disgusted, as if they’d seen something nasty. Temple Nolan tried to think of something to say that would reassure them, some pat answer he’d rehearsed and used a hundred times before and which never failed to eli
cit the response he wanted, but nothing came to mind.
Nothing came to mind at all.
TWENTY-SIX
It was almost three o’clock in the morning. A multi-department task force waited in the night for the delivery of the Russian girls. Members of the Hillsboro Police Department, Jackson County Sheriff’s Department, Madison County Sheriff’s Department, the FBI, and the INS had hidden themselves behind trees, bushes, the propane gas tank, and anything else they could find. They had parked their vehicles on another road and trekked over a mile across a field to reach the trailer.
Glenn Sykes was there, to fulfill his usual role. If anyone else had shown up to accept the shipment, the driver of the truck would have been spooked; since he was armed, no one wanted him spooked. The girls in the back of the truck had been through enough, without risking getting them killed by ricochets.
Jack lay under a big pine tree, his black clothing blending into the night shadows. The chief of any department seldom saw any action, but it had been decided that his expertise would be welcome. According to Sykes, usually there was only the driver to contend with, but the Russians were so expensive that Phillips had wanted an extra guard to make sure nothing went wrong. The two men were outnumbered fifteen to one, but there was always the chance that one of them would try something stupid; hell, it was almost a given, unless everything worked perfectly and the lawmen had the two overwhelmed before they knew anything was happening.
A black rifle lay cradled in Jack’s arms. He knew exactly how much pressure was needed to pull the trigger and how much kick to expect. He’d burned thousands of rounds of ammunition in this weapon; he knew its every idiosyncracy, the smell and feel and weight of it. It was an old friend, one he hadn’t realized he’d missed until he had taken it from the cabinet in his house and felt the way it settled in his arms.
Sykes was inside the trailer, the lights on, watching television. They had carefully searched the trailer to make sure he had no means of contacting the driver, but Jack thought that even if they’d had a dozen telephones lined up for him to use, Sykes wouldn’t have made the call. He had coolly decided to cut his losses by cooperating fully, and he’d keep to his bargain. The D.A. had almost wept with joy at the wealth of evidence Sykes offered him and had given him a real sweetheart deal. He wouldn’t even do time; five years’ probation, but that was nothing to a man like Sykes.