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“This is him, Wade!” Dani jabbed her index finger onto the photo of the car. “That’s who killed Trey. And if you don’t act on this, so help me, I’ll take it to the Aspen Times or to Dave Warrick or anyone else who will listen to me and makes sure it’s in the hands of someone who will. You don’t have six deaths here to worry about here, Wade—you have six murders.” She pressed her finger on the photo again, right on the plate. “And here’s your murderer!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#ulink_73dd67b3-e6b5-5f1d-bd65-057655b26f61)
“I want you out of town,” Wade said, his jaw twitching, his chest heating up with frustration and anger, everything about him suddenly different.
This whole thing had hit a whole new level of seriousness for him now. A combination of being threatened by this crazy girl and the fear of what might happen to her (or him!) if she continued on. His conversation on the phone last night had made it clear. I’ll handle it, he’d promised them. I’ll make it go away.
He knew he’d better damn well deliver.
“You’re not taking this anywhere.” He pulled the photo back to his side of the table and crumpled it into a ball.
“You think I’d be dumb enough to put my only one down in front of you.” Dani leered at him. “I have more.”
“Then I’m telling you, as the head of this investigation and as someone who cares about you, Dani, I want them all handed over now.” He reached across and grabbed the envelope out of her hands. “You’re going to get out of this town for a while and let me do what I’m paid to do. In the meantime”—he took her roughly by the arm—“you’re coming with me.”
“What do you mean, I’m coming with you?” She tried to pull herself away. He clamped on tighter. “Wade, you’re hurting me!”
He dragged her into the station house and then through a door in the back where they had four holding cells.
“Are you crazy …?” Dani glared at him, trying to writhe out of his grip. “Get your hands off me, Wade! You’re doing what—throwing me in jail? This is insane. You can’t stop me from talking to people. You’re sitting on something. Just like you did with Mom.”
“I’m putting you somewhere where I can make sure you’re not interfering with my investigation until your father comes, or whomever the hell else I can get to talk some sense in you and take you out of here. Trust me, it’s for your own good.”
“My father? On what charge?” she demanded.
“I don’t know what charge! Obstructing an official investigation. Illegally obtaining government property. On the charge that it’s for your own damn good, Dani. Whatever I can think of that holds you here for a couple of days.”
“Are you nuts? Wade, please, how long do you think that’ll last?”
“As long as it takes to call your dad and get him to come out here.” He pulled her into the area where there were four holding cells. None of them were occupied.
“I’m not gonna stay here, Wade.”
“You damn well are going to stay here! You’re over your head here, Dani, and I’m doing this to protect you, not hurt you. Whether you know it or not.”
“Protect me?” He pushed her in an open cell and closed it with a clang behind her.
“Yes, protect you, Danielle,” Wade said, breathing heavily now.
“You’re making a mistake here, Wade. Not about me, but about Trey. And Rooster. And whoever that car belongs to.”
“Maybe so.” Wade walked away and hung the key on the wall. “But I’ve made ’em before. Sooner or later, one’s bound to catch up to me.”
ADRIFT (#ulink_7b17e98c-9959-5830-b4e7-3be84ee0a717)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#ulink_370c8eaf-4a89-5bdb-9dab-bc4854af14d1)
It had been too long.
The muscles were getting weak, the stomach a little flabby. A month back, long about Frenchman’s Cay, he’d stopped doing his morning crunches. The urge to find himself again, to get back into something, the next chapter, grew more and more restless inside him. He kept asking himself, what was next? To go back to his old job? To Talon, the global security company he was a partner in? He’d taken a month leave to nurse his wounds and bring himself back to life and just extended it kind of indefinitely. Now the wounds had healed; the dime-sized holes where the bullets had found him were now just scar tissue, mostly hidden by the tan. But what do you do when you’ve brought down a worldwide financial conspiracy whose reach led to the doorstep of the president’s own cabinet? Become a talking head on the TV news shows? Go on the speakers’ circuit? Just sail? These past two months, he couldn’t answer that question.
The first month, he didn’t even bring it to mind.
The month Naomi had joined him.
Hauck gazed out in his trunks and shades at the exquisite turquoise sea, white waves lapping gently onto the shore, from the tiny cove he was moored in with no other boat in sight, and didn’t care that there was no breeze.
That first month they just drifted. He didn’t want money or fame. He’d just wanted to help people. That’s why he became a cop in the first place, right? After the death of his youngest daughter. That’s how he put the pieces together back then. How he made his amends. But there were never enough amends. So he just sailed. Until it found him. He knew one day it would.
The day this came down:
“Ty, I’m not sure where this email finds you. But I need your help …”
He had spent the past two months on a thirty-eight-foot skiff he’d rented in Tortola, bonefishing and just sailing around, letting his beard grow out. After he and Naomi Blum exposed the Gstaad Group and helped bring down the secretary of the Treasury, Thomas Keaton, who’d conspired to mastermind the series of events that brought on the worldwide financial meltdown. He just couldn’t take a slap on the back for a job well done and a bonus check, and go back to his desk in Greenwich, Connecticut. Even the high-profile job that it was, handling corporate and governmental security issues with global connections. He couldn’t just sit in a larger office, gladhanding prospective clients, using his newfound notoriety to land new business like some ex-home-run hitter at a baseball card show. The money didn’t mean much to him, either, a guy who always figured he’d retire on a detective’s pension.
The first three weeks, Naomi was with him. From her small office at the Office of Financial Terrorism at the Treasury Department in Washington, D.C., they followed the trail of Hauck’s friend April Glassman’s murder all the way to the top of Naomi’s very department, to the president’s right-hand man. And once the dust settled and the headlines stopped, the wounds healed, they sailed for a month from isle to isle. They let the boat just drift in the open sea and made love on the deck, on the forestairs, under the stars, whenever the urge hit, and wherever it took them. They pulled into small, festive ports and ate spiny lobsters or tilefish on the beach and danced to reggae bands in thatched-roofed bars, full of Red Stripe beer and Pyrat Rum.
Sometimes they would just sit on deck and watch the sunset, or the sunrise. And wonder why real life had to be any different.
Then she went back to D.C. Now, head of the Financial Terrorism office.
And he just continued to drift. What was next? What had meaning to him? She would send him texts; some cute, recalling their time together. Some sexy. She would refer to his scars and the many times he’d been shot. He’d write back that he loved to play the five chords from the opening of Philip Glass’s Music in the Shape of a Square that were tattooed on her butt. The result of a Princeton degree in musicology, before she went into the Marines.
Now he thought of her diving naked into the turquoise sea or dancing in cutoff jeans and a bikini top. He had the time of his life with her. Free. Neither wanted any attachments. She was a rising star with the world in front of her. He … he’d been around a bit longer and had cheated death more than one time.
Then the texts grew shorter and less frequent. She got involved in new cases. Told him to come back. And still he drifted. He’d received a ton of emails from people who wanted to meet with him. From Tom Foley, the CEO of Talon: When are you coming back? From his daughter, Jessie. Now sixteen: How long will u b down there, Dad? Have you gone mental??? Now he only checked his email once a week. He stopped doing his push-ups and crunches. His beard got thicker. If it was another month, then it would be another month. He just fished and sailed.
And then this message came.
Ted Whalen was his roommate at Bates College, where they both played football. Hauck was a running back, set all kinds of school records; records long broken. Ted was a tight end who mostly blocked and rarely caught a pass. The two of them, along with Ted’s pretty girlfriend, Judy, were fixtures there. Eventually they married. Ted went on to become a successful orthopedic surgeon. At first out in Colorado, interning at some famous clinic out there. Then after their marriage fell apart, at Brigham and Women’s back in Boston.
The message said that his daughter Danielle had gotten into a bit of trouble in Colorado, where she was living. Hauck was Danielle’s godfather. He remembered the day she was born, though truth was, he hadn’t seen her in years. He had gotten word a few years back that Judy had died out west. Complications from cancer. The last, sad punctuation point stamped on his college career.
Ted wrote: “I’m in Chile on a teaching sabbatical, otherwise I’d be on a plane myself. But from what I hear this might be more in your field of expertise than mine. Please go, Ty, if you can. I think it’s urgent.”
The last time he saw Danielle she was doing snowboard tricks at Mad River Glen in Vermont, where she and her dad visited one year. She was maybe thirteen. He’d promised Ted and Judy he would always be there for her, should anything ever happen. And that was before Judy got sick. Then they all drifted apart.
He wrote him back. “I’m on my way.” He didn’t even ask for a reason. The mountains would be a welcome change, maybe help him figure it out. Plus he owed them; owed him. Once a Bobcat, always a Bobcat, right?
He had made a vow.
Anyway, he was ready. Hauck looked out at the lit-up, purple horizon. Another gorgeous sunset. His last. He felt the old flicker in his blood start up, like an old engine coming to life. That spark he always felt on the job when he suddenly saw the mosaic of something larger than what the facts showed start to come together; when through the fog of misdirection and cover-up he saw with total clarity where a case was leading. That second sense. His muscles ached; but suddenly they felt ready. He put down his Red Stripe and stretched out on the deck. He started doing crunches. One, two, three …
He stopped at a hundred. Then he went downstairs and looked at himself in the mirror and took out his razor.
It had been too long.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#ulink_7c19f4f7-95b9-527b-9f34-7f6e5c754ec0)
The following morning, Hauck left his boat at a marina he knew on St. Kitts, caught an eight-seater prop for the half-hour jaunt over to St. Maarten, where he was the last one on the 11:30 A.M. to Miami, which connected late that afternoon to a United flight to Denver. He spent the night at the Aloft hotel near the airport, and by six the next morning, he’d rented a car and was on his way up Interstate 70 to Aspen.
He’d been out here a couple of times years before to ski. Once, back in college, where he and four friends crowded into a classmate’s family’s two-bedroom condo at Copper Mountain. Hauck’s folks were working-class people, and at Bates he worked a twenty-hour-a-week job on top of studying and football. Back then, he couldn’t have even afforded a cheeseburger in Aspen, never mind a place to stay or even the lift tickets. He remembered how beautiful the ride up was: the new airport cutting around Denver, passing Golden, where he always wanted to stop off and see the Coors brewery, then into the foothills with the old mining towns of Idaho Springs and Georgetown, their steep canyons and buffalo herd patches until he reached Loveland Pass at twelve thousand feet. Patches of snow were still visible as he emerged from the Eisenhower Tunnel.
He made it to Carbondale in just under three hours. Ted had said to talk to the chief of police there. A guy named Dunn. It was a small town in the shadow of a massive, lone mountain with outdoor shops and a ski-chalet-like Safeway on a quaint, main street. He’d put the location of the police station into his GPS, but after twenty years in law enforcement he didn’t need a satellite to help him sniff out a station. His nose led him right to the parking lot filled with parked green-and-white SUVs with CARBONDALE POLICE on them, outside a one-story, redbrick building attached to the Carbondale Town Center. He parked in a spot reserved for visitors.
Hauck’s beard was down to a growth, and in his floral Hawaiian shirt, jeans, and sunglasses, he didn’t exactly look official.
Inside, he went up to a female officer in a khaki uniform behind a glass partition, her hair in two long braids. She smiled pleasantly at him.
Hauck folded his shades into his shirt pocket. “Chief Dunn around?”
“He’s on the phone. I know he’s got to head into Aspen for a meeting there shortly after. Anything I can help you with?”
“I’m looking for a Danielle Whalen. I hear she’s a guest at the spa here.”
“The spa?” The officer looked up at him with a laugh. “You her lawyer?”
“Do I look like a lawyer?”
She laughed again. “Some of the lawyers here, why not? Hell, in this town you could be the mayor. Why don’t you take a seat; I’ll see if the chief is off. I know he was expecting someone. What did you say your name was?”
He gave her his card. “Ty Hauck.”
She got up and went to the back of the station past a couple of compartmentalized workstations. Hauck didn’t see any detectives. It was a small department. She knocked on the door of a glass-lined office with drapes restricting the view and poked her head in. A minute later she came back. “Dani’s a nice kid, but it’ll be a boon to all of us, the sooner you get her out. You can go on back.”
“Thanks, Officer.” He smiled.
He went back to the glassed-in office and knocked on the door that was left ajar. A stocky, middle-aged man in a uniform top over jeans stood up from behind his heavy wood desk.
“Come on in. Wade Dunn,” he said as he held out his hand. Despite the salt-and-pepper flattop, he looked no more than sixty, with a round face, a flabby jawline, a reddish complexion. He had an ornate belt on his jeans. His hands were thick, his grip was firm, authoritative, with a large turquoise ring. “Officer Jurgens said you were here about Dani …”
“Dani …?”
“Danielle. Sorry.” He motioned Hauck to a burled wood conference table. “I thought Ted might have mentioned I was married to her mother for a while.”
“No, he didn’t tell me that,” Hauck said, surprised. “He just said to look you up. I knew Judy a bit myself, back in college. In a way, I guess that makes us all kind of related.”
“How’s that?” The police chief crossed his legs. Hauck’s eyes went to the fancy python-skin boots.
“I’m her godfather.”
“Well, I’ll be damned! I guess that does make us all something.” The chief seemed pleasantly surprised. “Hell, I didn’t know she even had a godfather. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Or a soft drink maybe?”
“Nothing.” Hauck waved politely. “I’m fine.”
“So where’d you come in from, Mr. Hauck?” The duty officer had given him Hauck’s card. “Says Greenwich here. But you look kind of relaxed. L.A., maybe. You look kind of L.A., if you don’t mind me saying.”
“The Caribbean, actually. I was on a boat yesterday morning when Ted got in touch with me.”
“Caribbean?” Chief Dunn’s eyes widened. “Well, I have to say, you certainly do take the godfather role pretty seriously.”
Hauck smiled back. “Ted and I go back a long way. He said Dani was in some kind of trouble. There was no breeze. Here I am. So is she …?”
“Is she what?”
“In some kind of trouble.”
“Ty Hauck …” The chief leaned back and crossed his legs, and looked at Hauck’s card. He narrowed his gaze back on Hauck. “Jeez, I know who you are. I saw you on CNN or something. You’re the guy who was part of that investigation that led to that Treasury secretary’s arrest.”
“Thomas Keaton.” Hauck filled in the blank for him. “But I was only the one who got shot up a bit. Others did most of the work.”
“Not from what I heard. You look a little different,” the chief said, drawing a hand across his chin, “maybe because of the …”
“Midlife crisis,” Hauck said, referring to the growth.
“Well, I sure as hell know a lot about those.” Wade Dunn laughed. “Though mine landed me in this job. I used to run the force over in Aspen. Well, how about that, Dani has a celebrity godfather. So you knew her dad?”
“Ted and I went to college together. Back east.”
“Only met him a couple of times,” the chief said. “You’re one helluva friend to have, Mr. Hauck, if you don’t mind me saying. To drop everything and come out here.”
“So what’s Danielle done? I understand that she’s being kept here. Ted wasn’t quite clear.”
“It’s a bit hard to explain exactly what she’s done. Nothing really, when it comes to the law, except make my life a living hell. Professionally speaking. Personally, I like the gal. Practically raised her. But I guess you could say it’s sort of for her own good, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Look.” Dunn let his chair come back up. “We’ve had kind of some misfortune in the valley in the past week. Two things …” He told Hauck about the tragic, but likely unrelated, accidents. Dani’s friend, Trey, on the river, and the hot-air balloon that caught on fire in the air.
“That’s terrible …” Hauck winced. “How many were aboard?”
“Five.” Dunn shook his head. “Including the pilot. Who Dani claims wanted to tell her something about the rafting accident before his balloon went down.”
“What was that?’
The chief shrugged. “Claims he saw something on the river, but she never got to hear. The guy was a bit of a lone steer to me, if you know what I mean. Not all there. But Dani seems to think it was important. Look, these two events would be terrible for any community to undergo …” The chief lit up a cigarette. “Hope you don’t mind if I smoke, Mr. Hauck. Only real vice I have left,” the chief said. “The rest have all been legislated out …” Hauck nodded for him to go ahead. “But for us, here … Aspen may seem like a big, worldly place, Mr. Hauck, with all the glitzy stars and private jets, but truth is, this whole valley is just three small Colorado towns. Everyone knows everyone else. I know Dani was close to that young man who was killed on the river. Seems she’s gotten it in her head that these two terrible accidents weren’t exactly that.”
Hauck cocked his head. “Not sure I’m following you. Weren’t exactly what?” he asked.
“Accidents,” the chief said, taking a drag. “Worse, that they’re both somehow connected.”
“What do you mean by ‘worse’?”
The chief seemed to be taking a read on Hauck, his granite gray eyes settling on his. “Look, we’re both law enforcement professionals here … I may not have had the headlines you have on your résumé, and this is kind of a sleepy job now, but up in Aspen as you can imagine, I’ve seen a lot in close to thirty years …”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“What I’m saying, sir, is we turned over both of those incidents from hell and back—there’s been a state parks investigator on the river and a national safety team all over every part of that balloon, or what was left of it. And so far there’s not a stitch of evidence that says there’s been any foul play.”
