Day of Reckoning Read online

  The door opened into the lobby. Jay strode out, ignoring a man who greeted him. Who was he kidding? When the heart was involved, rules often took second place. He’d known Lela for two days, yet his attraction to her had come unbidden. Religion was not high on her priority list. Knowing that, why his persistent interest?

  Seated behind the wheel of her truck, he breathed in the lingering fruity fragrance of her shampoo. Should have asked her to drive him to his apartment to retrieve his own vehicle. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Her image invaded his mind, and his heart beat a bass rhythm against his ribcage.

  Whoa. He’d have to rein in his emotions—for many reasons. Locating Chuck had to be his number one concern. And then he had to gain Lela’s confidence, soften the barrier she’d erected around her heart. Explore why she had such an aversion to religion. Issues that were unquestionably connected to her abusive relationship.

  Jay thumped the wheel. He would suppress his ardor long enough to share his faith with her, and then he had to be patient. Wait for her to understand God’s love.

  But if Lela displayed no interest in spiritual matters, could he say good-bye once they found Chuck?

  Chuck. Intelligent, but lacking common sense. Why didn’t he contact the authorities as soon as he became aware of questionable activities in his office building? Obviously, he’d tipped off someone, and now…

  Images of Sean and the girls swam before Jay’s eyes. Losing Chuck might be the event that would push Beth over the edge. He harrumphed. How could he think of his future children when he was petrified of parenting his nieces and nephew if the family’s worst nightmare came true?

  He bowed his head and prayed for guidance and a quick resolution to Chuck’s whereabouts. Before he started the engine, his phone rang.

  Ed Langley. “Hey, Jay. Any news on your brother-in-law?”

  Jay paused a second or two to quell the anxious roiling in his gut and then reported the little information they’d garnered. “We’ve been chasing down leads all over the place but nothing solid as to his whereabouts.”

  “Sorry to hear that. By the way, Leon received your resignation letter, but he’ll hold on to it until Chuck’s home in case you change your mind.”

  “OK, but I made the right decision.”

  They talked a minute or two longer.

  Then Jay drove back to Beth’s house.

  His phone rang again.

  Kate.

  He yanked the keys from the ignition and against his better judgment, he answered.

  “Jay, what did you mean when you said we don’t have a future?”

  Movement in an upper story window caught his attention. Lela raised her hand in a little wave and smiled.

  Phone to his ear, he returned the gesture.

  30

  How could she have told Jay about Gilbert? The revelation haunted Lela. She shouldn’t have divulged even those limited details.

  He’d better not pry for more information.

  Avoiding eye contact with Jay, Lela nibbled her food but was aware of the actions of the others around Beth’s dining table. The older girls, Danielle and Erin, described their favorite TV programs to Agent Pam. Olivia had settled Sean down for the night, which left several empty chairs, including Chuck’s, of course.

  Beth speared food onto her fork in somber silence.

  Lela stole a peek at Jay. There was something different about him. Quiet, thoughtful. Had he received good news? Bad news? She couldn’t pinpoint the change exactly.

  Halfway through the meal of parmesan-encrusted chicken casserole, she sensed his gaze on her, but she didn’t acknowledge his regard. Unable to eat another bite, Lela excused herself. “Thank you for your hospitality, Beth. I need to work in my room. Good night, everyone.”

  “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

  Jay scooted back from the table and tossed his napkin on his chair. “Lela, do you have to? I’d like to review all the information we’ve gathered and—”

  “There’s nothing else we can do right now. IRO will follow up on all the leads we’ve provided.” Lela quickly averted her gaze.

  The spark had left his eyes, and he seemed to wilt. She’d been abrupt, almost rude. After all, he wasn’t prying. Change her mind? No. She had to leave. She softened her voice. “I have another issue I’m researching.” In the arched doorway, she turned and said, “Excuse me,” and exited the room. She couldn’t stand another minute in Jay's company. His scrutiny unnerved her. It was as if he was examining her soul. Besides, she needed to investigate Margie. Any job to divert her attention.

  Notebook at hand, Lela delved further into Margie’s background. Why the protests outside barber shops with signs that read, “Short hair leads to brain damage!” Was she mentally ill?

  Taking a different tack, Lela researched the places where Margie had lived since her husband’s death. Oceanside, Carlsbad, Encinitas, Solana Beach, small towns on the coast between Los Angeles and San Diego. What did they have in common? Checking specialty sites gave her the answer. While Margie lived there, a barber in each community had died.

  By the time Lela read the last post, her notebook overflowed with details about Margie’s life. The barber deaths and Margie’s presence. Coincidence?

  One way to find out. She checked the time. Eight thirty. She dialed Margie’s number.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Knox, I’m Lela Ortiz. My mother—”

  “Hello, my dear. I’m so glad you called.” Her high-pitched voice could have belonged to a ten-year old. “Can you come over? That…that man is outside my house right now.”

  “You see him?” Lela swung her legs off the bed and picked up her keys.

  “Yes. He’s standing by a tree across the street.”

  “Are you positive?”

  An exasperated sigh. “Of course I am, dear. It’s the same man who followed me all week. He’s young, about six feet tall, dark brown hair, which he wears in a ponytail.”

  Too vivid a description to be a figment of Margie’s imagination.

  Lela jiggled her keys. With Pam and Jay present, she could leave with a clear conscience and dash over to Margie’s house. “Give me directions to your place. In the meantime, don’t let the guy know you’ve spotted him.” After Margie hung up, Lela ran down the stairs.

  Pam’s and Jay’s conversation from the sunroom filtered across the foyer.

  She poked her head around the door. “I have to go out for a while. Be back in a couple of hours.” She didn’t wait for a response.

  Seated in her truck, she programmed the address into her phone. Good thing Margie lived close by. When she neared the address, Lela parked a block away. By staying in the shadows on the opposite side of the street, she surreptitiously approached Margie’s house. Sure enough, next to a sapling stood a tall man, arms folded, hair in a ponytail. Definitely not hiding. Was he deliberately trying to intimidate the woman?

  As quiet as a cat, she leaped on him and threw him down on the ground with his arms behind his back before he could utter a word.

  “Why are you stalking the woman in 407?”

  “Who are you? Let me go.” His words mashed into the ground.

  “Answer my question.”

  “I will, but ease up. You’re hurting me.”

  Lela squeezed his wrists tighter. “Who are you?”

  “You got him,” Margie yelled from across the street.

  The woman’s intrusive voice and a car speeding close to the curb distracted Lela enough to provide the young man leverage.

  He struggled and twisted one arm free. Lela lost her grip on his other wrist. He rolled onto his back sending Lela tumbling to the sidewalk. Before she could react, he sprang to his feet and bolted down the street.

  She should have cuffed him. Shrugging off the loss, Lela frowned.

  Margie stood nearby with both hands on her ample hips. “Why did you let him go?”

  Lela stood and brushed grit off her pants. “I had him until…” What good would
it do to blame the man’s escape on Margie’s interruption? With the intention of accompanying Margie to the house, Lela stepped toward the curb, but her boot knocked an object on the sidewalk. Glancing down, Lela noticed a wallet. The stalker’s? She picked it up and exposed the driver’s license. In the streetlight, she read the name and address aloud. “Freddy Ellis, 6739 Haywood Avenue, Solana Beach. Do you know him?” The name of the town set off an alarm in Lela’s head.

  “Oh.” Margie covered her mouth. Her eyes widened in her pudgy face. “He must be the son of—” Her voice trailed off as she pivoted and waddled toward her house, favoring her left hip.

  Lela followed. “Who is his father?”

  The woman lumbered up the steps to her front porch, head high.

  “What do you know about this man?”

  “Stop pestering me.” Hand on the doorknob, Margie paused and huffed in breaths.

  “Mrs. Knox, I can’t help you if you won’t be truthful with me.” She slid the wallet into her pocket and placed her hand on Margie’s shoulder, noting that her red hair was streaked with gray. The stalker was real and with his ID in Lela’s possession, she could locate him in no time. Maybe all the unusual things she’d read about Margie online were inconsequential. “I doubt he’ll bother you again.”

  “Thank you, Lela, but after you tell him to leave me alone, you don’t have to do anything else.” Margie had not admitted that she knew the man.

  No matter. Lela would locate Mr. Ellis, find out why he stalked this woman, and resolve the issue once and for all. Mama needed an update on this new Margie. “I’ll let you know what I find out, Mrs. Knox.” Lela descended the steps two at a time as Margie entered the house. A royal blue sports car in Margie’s driveway caught Lela’s attention. Flashy vehicle.

  Seated in her pickup, Lela turned on the overhead light, and in the process of removing Freddy’s driver’s license from the wallet, a business card fell out.

  Ellis’s Barber Shop in Solana Beach.

  Lela chewed her bottom lip, recent Internet searches clashing in her mind.

  Margie. Solana Beach. Murdered barber.

  31

  “My world’s falling apart.” Vanessa snatched the keys out of the ignition and tossed them into her open bag on the passenger seat beside her. How’d the situation get out of control so fast? “I need a smoke.” She rummaged in her purse until she located a pack of cigarettes. After tapping one out, she flicked the lighter and inhaled. Ah! Much better. She opened her door to allow the smoke to escape.

  Several minutes later, she slammed the door of her sedan, retrieved a metal dolly from the trunk, and entered the almost deserted office building. While waiting at the bank of elevators, she removed the perfume bottle from her purse. Out of habit, she dabbed the cold liquid behind her ears and on her neck. That should be enough to disguise the tobacco odor. She harrumphed. At this time of night who would notice? In the elevator, she tapped her foot on the dolly’s metal platform, eyes on the ascending numbers.

  When the doors slid open on seven, she scurried to her office. Had Zoe collected empty boxes as she’d asked? She unlocked the door, took one step toward the inner office, and froze. Why was the light on? She listened, and hearing nothing suspicious, opened the door. Four boxes were stacked in the corner. Zoe probably left the light on when she’d brought them in.

  Vanessa searched through files in her oak cabinet, extracting the ones containing incriminating evidence. The rest could be left behind. She couldn’t take everything on such short notice.

  File after file landed in the first box. Why hadn’t she paid attention to Walter’s report of the rescue attempt in Mexico? “Should have insisted they get the photos and other details from Chuck before sending the video. Don’t know how they found me, but I gotta leave. Right now,” she muttered under her breath.

  Vanessa closed the full box and filled the second container. She searched through her desk and removed personal items, telephone messages—she insisted Zoe write them out—and a notepad containing clients’ names, phone numbers, and addresses.

  Leaning back in the leather chair, she surveyed the office. Was there anything else she needed to remove? Nothing in this room. Next, she scrambled through Zoe’s file cabinet in the outer office and examined her desk drawers. The one item she found of importance was a recent message the secretary had written at two that afternoon. “Urgent. Call Richard Ayers.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Doggone it. What does he want?” She scrunched up the message and stuffed it into her pocket. “Not gonna call, mister. Gotta take care of number one.” A throat-scratching coughing fit sapped her energy. Should stop smoking, but… She collapsed into Zoe’s chair.

  When her breathing returned to normal, Vanessa dabbed a tissue to her watery eyes. How had she ended up on the wrong side of the law? The illegal part was never her goal, but after she’d discovered how lucrative the business was, and how easy, the rest fell into her lap. There were too many desperate couples who wanted a baby badly enough they’d pay big bucks and bend the law to add a child to the family.

  She smiled as she recalled her grandson’s birthday party the previous day. Tennyson, eleven years old. Mischievous, smart, and capable of deciphering any technical jargon presented to him. He wouldn’t be in her life if Idelle had gone through with the adoption. As a single teenager, she’d agreed to relinquish her baby but changed her mind at the last minute. The lawyer handling the case was livid. How dare she disappoint the family who wanted her child?

  That planted the seed. Vanessa searched for couples who’d given up hope, usually too old for the legal adoption process, or ones who didn’t meet the requirements. As long as they had the money, she found them a baby. At first, she’d handled the whole business on her own, but later, she’d partnered with Aaron Ayers in LA, who controlled a vast illegal adoption ring. Thank you, Richard, for making the introduction to you brother.

  Now, with enough money set aside and the authorities closing in, it was time to skip town.

  Vanessa heaved herself out of the chair and entered her office one last time. “It’s been great, but I gotta go.” On impulse, she removed a photograph of the Coronado Bridge taken at night. She loved that picture. After carefully adding it to the last box, she stacked the containers onto the dolly, slung her purse over her shoulder, and exited the office. Lights off, door closed, she minced to the elevator. Should have changed her heels for flats.

  In the garage, she loaded the boxes and the dolly into her trunk then slid behind the steering wheel. Good thing she didn’t know in which of the thugs’ residences they were keeping Chuck. Otherwise, she’d be tempted to take care of him herself. Guess Walter was smart not to tell me. She found her phone, and punched a speed dial number.

  No answer. Straight to voice mail. What was he doing? She left a message. “Walter, where are you? We can’t wait any longer. I’m changing the rules of this game. Kill him.”

  32

  Bacon. The aroma, the crunch, the taste. Jay took another bite of the bacon omelet. Was he the only one enjoying Ilsa’s delicious creation? He studied his breakfast companions.

  Pink was definitely Lela’s color, complementing her olive complexion perfectly. No T-shirt today. A loose button-down, and no shoulder holster, but why the scowl? She’d paid scant heed to anyone. How could she not react to Sean’s antics? The little guy gulped a mouthful of juice, shook his head a half-dozen times, then swallowed with an exaggerated, “Ahhh.”

  Jay had wanted to talk to Lela last night, but when she returned, she went directly to her room. A table full of people was not the place to ask what troubled her.

  Beth was no better. Fidgety. On-edge. When addressed, she responded with a curt, “What?” She nibbled a little food then excused herself from the table and hurried out of the kitchen. Beth’s doctor had adjusted her medication, but even so, his sister was hanging onto reality by a gossamer thread. Good thing Mother was due to arrive tomorrow. Take-charge Ruth would have ev
erything in shape before she unpacked and would provide the stability Beth needed.

  The girls’ excited voices helped brighten his mood. He cocked his head toward his oldest niece sitting beside him.

  “Uncle Jay-Jay, Pam told us Manny’s coming this morning,” Danielle said. “He’s teaching me how to play the guitar. Do you think Daddy will buy me one if I ask real nice?”

  The optimism of kids. “Sure, honey. When he comes home.” If he comes home. “He’ll buy you all great gifts.” What else could he say?

  “I want to learn, too.” Erin wiped her mouth on the linen napkin. “Manny can teach—”

  “Jay, Lela, Pam. Come quick.” Beth’s words, coated in anxiety, echoed in the tiled kitchen.

  Placing a hand on Danielle’s shoulder, Jay looked at each person around the table in turn. “You girls stay here with Olivia. She can excuse you when everyone’s finished. Mama’s fine. I’ll take care of her.” And to the teacher’s aide, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Then the other three adults rushed toward Beth’s frantic voice.

  “What is it, Bethy?” Jay asked, entering the sunroom.

  “Another video from Chuck. I don’t want to watch it alone.” She handed the phone to Jay.

  Lela and Pam gathered close while he turned it on. Although small, the screen clearly showed Chuck sitting on a bed, hands dangling between his knees. Additional bruises covered his face.

  “He was beaten again.” In a blink, Pam covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll play the video. Beth, do you want to hear what Chuck has to say?”

  She nodded. “But I can’t look at him.”

  Jay adjusted the volume. Chuck’s speech included loving words for Beth and the children, statements of past regrets, and a desire to see them all again. Another voice reminded them not to contact the authorities.

  At the conclusion, Beth crumpled against Jay, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, set his chin on top of her head, and eyed Pam and Lela. What they heard made little sense, but he wouldn’t discuss Chuck’s state of mind with his sister in the room.