Trace Evidence, page 3
“I’ll throw in a trip to Daisy’s. Would that be enough to sweeten the deal?”
She giggled in the way that displayed her dimples. Daisy’s was the local ice cream joint. Maddy loved the place and her mother did not. Sneaking over to Daisy’s for a cone was one of their secrets. Of course, her mother knew every time they went because Maddy couldn’t eat her favorite chocolate ice cream without getting it all over her. But it thrilled Maddy to think that she had a secret date. Truth be told, he got a kick out of her delight.
Maddy said, “I can’t go to the zoo tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“I have school, Michael.” Her tone was the same as if she’d said her beloved mini schnauzer, Whiskers, had four legs.
He grinned. “You do? What day is it?”
“It’s Sunday.” She sighed in that exaggerated way only seven-year-olds can. As if adults were so very clueless. “We can skip the zoo since it’s so late already. But you should take me to Daisy’s today.” She paused and whispered, “I have a favor I want to ask you.”
“A favor?” The statement made him uneasy. Maddy’s favors were usually all about things her mother had forbidden. When he gave in to Maddy, as he always did, her mother’s temper flared in extremely unpleasant ways. Instinctively, he rubbed the scar on his chest where her mother had accidently shot him with an arrow playing William Tell when he was eight. “What kind of favor?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here,” she said, giggling again.
He could almost see the joy on her face through the phone. He groaned. “Okay. You wore me down. Give me an hour.”
“A whole hour?”
“And Maddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell your mom.” Her infectious laugh as she hung up made him grin again despite his lingering exhaustion.
He’d planned some time off to relax and maybe focus on a personal matter that had been nagging him lately. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get started. He had returned the Romanov pendant to its rightful owner. The client had paid Flint’s fee, half the appraised value plus expenses, and deposited the four million dollars directly into his numbered account in Grand Cayman. The case was closed. His bank account was healthy.
He drifted back to sleep.
He often wondered about Maddy’s father. Whoever he’d been, Katie Scarlett would never speak of him, no matter how many ways Flint broached the subject. Flint was not much of a kid person, but how could any man be indifferent to such a delightful girl? Maddy was a perfect daughter. No man could do better. The man didn’t know what he was missing. When Flint caught up with the jerk, he planned to make sure he understood what he’d lost.
His phone rang again. He opened one eye, groaned, and threw back the covers. “On my way,” he said, before Maddy could chastise him again. “Headed to the shower now.”
When Flint pulled up outside Scarlett’s home, Maddy was waiting on the front porch. The door was open and her nanny was watching. She ran down the steps and along the sidewalk, brown curls bouncing, fairly dancing with impatience. Her joie de vivre was infectious. He was already laughing when she jumped inside the car and slammed the door. She pulled her seat belt across her slender body and folded her hands.
“Are you ready?” If he’d asked her mother such a question, Scarlett would have punched him.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Maddy giggled. “Let’s go!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He rolled away from the curb and entered the eastbound traffic at the intersection. “Should we stop at Matt’s Garden Center first? How about Joe’s Hardware?”
Maddy glowered at him. “Don’t tease me. You know where we’re going. Daisy’s.”
“Right. I forgot.” He nodded. “Tell me the best stuff you and Whiskers did this week.”
Flint had given Maddy the miniature schnauzer for her sixth birthday. Maddy had asked him for the puppy precisely because she’d known her mom wouldn’t buy it for her. Her mother had enough to do without taking care of a puppy, she’d said.
Flint had intended to ask Scarlett’s permission first, but he’d recently learned a valuable lesson about childhood. Other people’s kids were for spoiling. Simple as that.
Besides, Whiskers was a great dog and Scarlett would have her housebroken eventually. Flint’s plan was to stay scarce until that happened.
He parked in the lot at Daisy’s, and they stood in the long line waiting to be served.
Maddy’s chattering about everything from her mom to school to Whiskers and beyond washed over Flint while he nodded occasionally and tried to stay focused on the constantly changing world of a seven-year-old.
They took the ice cream outside to one of the picnic tables. Chocolate with chocolate sprinkles, as always, for Maddy. Flint had ordered black coffee.
“Okay, Maddy. Out with it. What’s this big favor you got me out of bed on Sunday to handle?” It was autumn in Houston and still warm enough for summer clothes and ice cream. The leaves hadn’t begun to turn, but the scent of fall was in the air.
Maddy pushed her ice cream cup aside and folded her hands on the table. Her expression became serious. “It’s about my friend Jamie.”
“Do I know Jamie?”
She shook her head. “He’s new. He’s sick a lot. So he’s missed a lot of school. We have to help him catch up, our teacher said.”
Flint nodded somberly, wondering where this story was headed.
“Jamie needs your help. I told him you were the best heir hunter in the world. I told him you could find anybody. He didn’t believe me. But I’ve heard you say that’s true.” Her green eyes widened. “That is true, right, Michael?”
Flint nodded again. He promised his clients he could find anyone, anytime, anywhere—for a hefty fee. A boy in Maddy’s second-grade class wasn’t likely to present much of a challenge. “Who is Jamie trying to find?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure who he is.”
“I see.” Flint tried to keep a serious expression on his face. “Well, can’t Jamie’s dad help?”
“Jamie doesn’t know who his dad is.” Maddy shook her head slowly, a sorrowful look on her face. “I don’t know who my dad is. Neither do you. Jamie is like us.”
Flint cocked his head. Already, the situation was more complicated than he’d hoped. “How about Jamie’s mom? Surely she can find this fellow?”
“She’s tried. And she’s rich, too. She’s hired people.” Maddy shrugged again. “No one else can find him. Only you can do it.”
Flint closed his eyes. He was tired. He’d taxed his body and his mind during The Sea King case. He wasn’t ready to take on a new client just yet.
“I told Jamie you’d help. You will help him, won’t you?” Before he could answer, she waved toward the other side of the parking lot and slipped away from the picnic table. Flint watched her approach a boy only slightly taller than she was, pale and reed thin. He had the sinking feeling that this was Jamie and the well-tended woman standing next to him was his rich mother.
Maddy, the little imp, had backed him into a corner. She was just like her mother in too many ways.
Before Flint could come up with a suitable excuse to escape, Maddy had returned, her friend in tow.
The woman looked vaguely familiar. She was dressed in navy slacks and a white sweater that could have come right off the runway this season, like a New York City fashion model, but not quite as emaciated.
Artificially red hair fell to her shoulders in that casual way that usually meant a thousand-dollar haircut. Perfect makeup. Brown eyes. She frowned and extended a well-manicured hand to meet his firm handshake.
“Veronica Beaumont. This is my son, Jamison. We call him Jamie. You are Michael Flint, correct?”
“I’m Flint, yes.” He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Beaumont.”
“Ms. Beaumont.” She stressed the title aggressively. “Call me Veronica.” She glanced at the yellow picnic-table bench and remained standing. He figured her dry-cleaning bills were a sizable chunk of her weekly take-home pay.
Flint remained standing, too, to be polite. She acted as if he should know her, so he ran her name through his memory for a full five seconds and came up empty. Probably best not to mention that.
Maddy said, “Jamie is the boy I told you about. He needs your help. You’re the only one who can do it, Michael. You have to try.”
He smiled, sheepishly. “Maddy’s opinion of my skills is flattering, Ms. Beaumont, but . . .”
“Veronica. Apparently I was misinformed about you, Mr. Flint. So you’re not the best heir hunter in Houston, then?” Her challenge bordered on insult. In that moment, he realized who she was. Veronica Beaumont owned one of the hottest new tech companies in Texas.
“Houston isn’t a very big pond, Ms. Beaumont.” He squared his shoulders and met her eyes steadily. “Didn’t Maddy tell you? I’m the best heir hunter in the world.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Can you prove that?” The obnoxious challenge again. She didn’t act like a woman who needed his help for anything. Nor was he much inclined to volunteer.
He smiled. Nodded. Curtly. Once. He felt a little sympathy for Jamie’s missing dad. This woman was a bitch on wheels. Life was way too short to take crap from her. Or anyone else, for that matter.
But Maddy was watching. He wouldn’t behave badly in front of her, even when provoked. He was the only male role model she had. As a boy who’d never had a father figure in his life, he felt the responsibility keenly. Maddy needed to know that not all men were assholes, even if behaving with grace under pressure was a challenge sometimes.
Besides, Veronica Beaumont was nothing to him. When he walked away, he need never speak to her again.
“It was good to meet you, Ms. Beaumont, Jamie.” He picked up Maddy’s ice cream cup and handed it to her. “Come on, Maddy. We need to get back.”
Maddy didn’t argue. Maybe she sensed his anger or something.
Whatever it was that went on in the heads of kids was way, way out of his wheelhouse. In fact, Maddy Scarlett was the only kid he knew, and he wasn’t sure what she was thinking most of the time.
Maddy took her ice cream cup from him and said, “Bye, Jamie. See you in school tomorrow.”
Flint tossed his half-empty coffee cup into the trash on the way to the car. He opened the door for Maddy and walked around the car to get in on the driver’s side.
Before he started the ignition, Maddy said, “She was rude, wasn’t she?”
He clenched his jaw. “It’s okay, Maddy. No worries. How’s that ice cream?”
“It’s good. But Michael?”
“Yes?”
She’d lowered her chin and he saw a single tear fall into her ice cream cup. Her voice was quiet. “Even if his mom was rude, Jamie still needs your help.”
He cocked his head, trying to understand the seven-year-old’s logic. “Why is this so important to you?”
Her chin quivered and she avoided his gaze. “Because Jamie’s sick. Our teacher said he might die. She said he knew it and we kids should know it, too. It’s sad.”
“And this man Jamie wants to find?”
Maddy shrugged. “I just know it’s important. Real important.”
Flint ran his palm over his head. He frowned, started the engine, and pulled out into traffic.
He could never refuse Maddy anything. He was stuck and he knew it.
Maybe the job would be easy and he could do it tomorrow. With luck, he could avoid talking to Veronica Beaumont more than twice.
Something niggled, though. It was odd that Maddy had come to him.
“Have you asked your mom to help Jamie?”
She and Maddy were usually pretty open with each other. Katie Scarlett was almost as good an investigator as Flint. And she had a team that worked with her, including Carlos Gaspar, who had skills far above the norm.
Scarlett could put boots on the ground and fingers on the keys and cover twice as much data in half the time. This job seemed like one she could knock out in half a day.
Maddy’s face flushed bright red. She stammered, “I, I just want you to do it. Mom’s too busy.”
“Ah.” Man, you’re slow on the uptake sometimes. He smiled. “So you like Jamie, then? Is that it?”
Maddy’s face flushed even more. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she shook her head so rapidly that her curls bounced.
“Okay. Don’t freak out on me.” Flint reached over and patted her shoulder. Finally, he understood the problem. “I’ll look into it. And we won’t tell your mom. At least, for now.”
The relief that flooded Maddy’s face was almost comical.
Flint smiled. So Maddy had her first serious crush on a boy. How cute was that?
-
Chapter Five
Reno, Nevada
Six Years Ago
Josh Hallman waited impatiently at the private airstrip for his two college friends, Dan Shafer and Skip Evans. There was a storm coming in, and they were late. As usual.
He was packed and eager to get this last leg of the journey to Red Maple Lake completed. His fishing gear was stowed, and the party gear was within easy reach inside the Cessna Turbo 206. The Cessna was outfitted with amphibious floats, or pontoons, which meant several alterations to the aircraft, and all for the better as far as Josh was concerned.
A pilot was only as good as his equipment.
The three friends had been planning this trip for a long time. Back when they were fraternity brothers, they’d been inseparable. But now, more than ten years after college, they saw each other rarely. But the three amigos, as they’d called themselves, were bonded for life by those college experiences.
Dan and Skip were Josh’s closest, best friends. He would do anything for them and he knew they felt the same.
Anything but exhibit some patience, apparently. He shook his head and grinned.
Dan and Skip had faith in him to fly the last leg of this trip. Could he do it? Hell, yes. Of course he could. That’s what he’d said at the time. In the bar. After a few beers. When their women weren’t around.
Which was not at all the same thing as standing out here in the cold mountain air preparing to fly two hundred miles to the middle of nowhere and land on a mountain lake colder than melted polar ice. Josh shivered just thinking about swimming today.
Sure, he liked a challenge. Of course, he’d done more difficult things in his life. Dumber things, too. He shook his head and inhaled deeply through his nose and filled his lungs with crisp fall oxygen.
A campfire burned nearby. He caught a whiff of it and smiled. Tonight, the three amigos would be lounging by a campfire, too. Sharing bullshit stories. Tall tales of derring-do, plied with beer and the sheer joy of being together. He was looking forward to it.
Everything would be okay. He’d fly the plane. They’d have the experience of a lifetime. Just like they’d planned. Josh was glad they’d scheduled the trip and followed through after that night in the bar. He needed a break.
Things had not been going well, but the trip would be a turning point for him. He could feel it in his gut.
He’d had some dark days this past couple of years. Lost his job in the most recent downsizing. Debts piled up faster than he could pay them. That mess with Veronica. Through it all, he’d lived for this five-day adventure with his closest friends in the world, as if they were his lifeline. Although they didn’t know how desperate he’d become, they’d help him as soon as he explained things. No questions asked. He knew they would.
He glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes late already. Come on. Where are you guys? We’re burning daylight here. Not to mention the time before that storm comes through.
He inspected the Cessna again. He had piloted floatplanes before, but each plane was a little different, with its own quirks. The yellow-and-white T206 was big. The floats were knee-high, and there was another step board to make it up into the cockpit. Sitting in the pilot’s seat made him feel like he was king of the world, and the roar of the big Lycoming engine added to that feeling. God, he loved flying.
Red Maple Lake presented a few extra challenges for takeoff and landing, too. There was no landing strip out there, so the lake would be his runway. In principle, landing on water was no different from landing on solid ground, but principle and practice were always two different things. Everything was easier on paper than in execution.
The drag from the floats meant getting too slow on landing was a real danger. Despite the big engine, spooling it back up and gaining airspeed was a painfully slow process.
Fighter pilots said that speed was life, and he believed it. With enough airspeed he could handle any problem, and he wasn’t going to be caught without enough. Not with Dan and Skip aboard. Hell, not ever.
His mechanic had checked the Cessna out thoroughly and he’d flown a bunch of touch-and-gos last week. He’d never been to Red Maple Lake, but he was confident he could land the plane when they got there and take off when they were ready to leave.
He checked his watch. He glanced at the sky. He tapped his foot. Impatience was his constant companion. Josh had two speeds, dead stop or full out. He seemed to have no way to throttle his energy. Maybe he should’ve been on meds or something, like Veronica said.
He cupped the back of his neck with his hand and rubbed the tension that settled there whenever he thought about Veronica. He’d liked her well enough, but he didn’t love her and he wasn’t interested in marrying her, for damned sure. She’d felt the same, he knew. She’d told him often. He wasn’t devastated when she left him. No, he’d been relieved. Especially after the abortion.
Their relationship had not been the same carefree romp after they’d made the joint decision and terminated that pregnancy. Not that anything should have been the same after that. The decision wasn’t made lightly. They’d spent days and nights fighting through it, hashing it out, coming eventually to the only real choice.
