Henry all but pushed me out of the SUV and it spun off into the night. I stood there in the rain, watching the red tail lights disappear from view.
BJ had Axton.
When did he take Axton? Where did BJ find him and was he okay?
I picked up my drenched imitation leather purse and my keys still lying next to it on the rain-soaked pavement. I brushed at a wet strand of hair as I made my way to my apartment.
I stripped off my clothes and stood in the shower stall, letting the warm water flow over me as I mulled over my night with BJ. Kidnapping me, showing me he had Ax, those were pretty desperate moves. His threats meant I was on the right track. I was making him nervous. I thought over what I had done the last couple of days. I’d gone to Penn’s Cigar Bar and shown Axton’s picture to the bartender. Went to the tanning salon and tussled with Manny. Saw Sheila Graystone a couple of times. Filed a police report — which I assumed set BJ off, but maybe I was wrong on that score — and ended up with a swanky cocktail dress from Pour Femme courtesy of NorthStar.
That was the key, NorthStar. Had to be. Between Manny and Pour Femme, I was onto something. I smiled at the thought.
This jerk had my Axton, and one way or another, I was going to get him back.
I hopped out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on a pair of sweats. I made myself a pot of coffee. There was absolutely no way I was going to get any sleep. Not after my day. I decided to look up the numbers Sheila gave me.
I booted up my laptop, and using the reverse address, I found the first number. Huntingford Bank and Trust. According to Sheila, the bank called Packard six times in two days. Seemed excessive, but what did I know? My banking needs were small, just like the balance in my account.
The next number belonged to Charles and Willa Beaumont. These two were unfamiliar to me, so I did a little research. Turns out both Willa and her husband Charles were civic-minded citizens. Willa worked with the Historical Preservation Society and Charles sat on the city council with Packard. Seemed legitimate.
The next number was for the Sun Kissed Tanning Salon. Someone — Manny — called Pack once. I gasped in excitement. Finally a tangible link between NorthStar and at least one Graystone brother. I had no idea what it meant, but it wasn’t a dead end, and that had me doing a happy dance. Literally. I got up and danced around my apartment. I may have even pumped a fist once or twice.
After I calmed down, I looked up the final number, the one that popped up nine times. That number, of course, was unlisted.
Although it was close to midnight, I decided to call it. I pressed star sixty-seven before dialing to block my number from Caller ID. Axton taught me that.
A smooth voice answered on the second ring. “Sullivan.”
I froze for a beat in shock before I quickly pushed the end button on my phone. I knew that voice. The Bossy Jackass.
I stared at my phone as if it might reach out and bite me. Sullivan. That was his name. First or last?
I immediately took to the computer and looked up several combinations. Sullivan and NorthStar Inc., Sullivan and Sun Kissed Tanning, Sullivan and Packard Graystone, and every other pairing I could think of. Nothing.
I called Eric and woke him up. “What,” he grumbled.
“I found out who BJ is. I found him, Eric.”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Rose. And I have a link between NorthStar and Packard Graystone.”
“Hang on, give me a minute.”
I continued to punch the word Sullivan into the search engine as I waited for Eric to become coherent.
“All right, tell me again. Slowly.”
I told him about Packard’s call from Sun Kissed Tanning. “And I think I have a name for The Bossy Jackass.”
“How did you find out his name?”
I explained how I had made this amazing discovery, then sat back, feeling pretty darn pleased with myself.
“You rock, Rose.”
I grinned. “I do rock. I rock hard.”
“Let me do a little digging and see if I can turn up anything.”
There wasn’t any more I could do to find Axton tonight. I suppose I could have studied. Instead I watched infomercials until it was time to go to work.
“I’m going to saw my wrists, I swear.”
I walked from the kitchen into the dining room the next morning and saw Roxy holding a butter knife in the air. Ma grabbed it out of her hand.
Pounding her fists on the counter, Roxy glared at her. “I need a cigarette.”
“You’re doing fine, honey,” Ma said, rubbing her back.
I plucked an apron from the hook and forced a smile. “Hey.”
They both looked up when I entered.
“Hey, toots, any news on Axton?” Ma asked.
I debated whether to tell them about Henry’s abduction and Sullivan’s latest threat. It would upset Ma, and Roxy would insist I stay with her. I decided to do some creative editing. “I went to Pour Femme yesterday and told them I was from NorthStar. They gave me a dress. Then I found out BJ’s name and he admitted he has Axton.”
“What?” Ma slammed the knife on the counter. “He has Axton? What does that mean?”
“Sheila gave me that list of numbers. When I called he answered ‘Sullivan.’ He told me to quit asking questions and said he had Axton.” That was creative and no one would worry, right? “Also, Pack and Sun Kissed Manny know each other.”
“What’s the dress look like?” Roxy asked.
Ma lightly smacked her arm. “Is Axton all right?”
I thought about that horrible picture of Ax bound and gagged. He looked terrified. “I’m not sure.”
She came around the counter and pulled me into a hug. “I miss him so much, Ma. I just want him to be okay.”
“Maybe you should go to the police, Rose. I know this Bossy Jackass—”
“Sullivan,” I mumbled against her shoulder.
“I know he said not to, but maybe it’s time.”
“I already went yesterday with Dane. They don’t care. The cop treated me like I was the criminal. He didn’t believe me.”
“Dick,” Roxy said.
“He kind of was.”
“I wish I knew what to tell you, toots.”
“Me too, Ma.”
I went to the bathroom and splashed some cool water on my face. Had I done the right thing not telling them Henry kidnapped me and took me to a Godfather-style sit down with Sullivan? I didn’t know what the right thing was anymore. I was putting everyone around me in jeopardy. Would it be better if I warned them? Or would it just make them as paranoid and jittery as I was?
Sundays were usually our busiest day with people waiting up to thirty minutes for a table. But because the heavy rain continued throughout the morning, we were pretty slow.
Dane showed up at eight. He shrugged out of a wet all-weather jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Running a hand over his hair, his gaze moved around the diner until it found me in the corner pouring coffee.
I smiled and made my way over to him. I felt pretty guilty for leaving him in front of the police station yesterday, but I’m not sure I wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t appreciate Officer Thomas or his piss-poor attitude.
“Hey,” I said.
He smiled. “Hey.” He brushed his thumb along my cheek. “You look tired.”
I raised my brows. “Oh stop, you’re making me blush. About yesterday, I’m sor—”
“No,” he said, “I’m sorry. Andre Thomas may be a good cop, but he acted like an ass and I told him so.”
“I found a name for BJ.” Before I could explain further, Ma walked up.
“Hello, young man.”
“Ma Ferguson, this is Dane Harker.”
She held out her hand. “Dane, it’s a pleasure.”
“Nice to officially meet you. Do I call you Ma?”
“Everyone else does. Rose, we’re not busy right now. Go sit down with this handsome young man and take as much time as you need.”
Dane smiled a little at the compliment.
I grabbed him a cup of coffee and led him to the table.
Dane snapped his fingers. “Oh, before I forget, I have something for you.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper, then handed it to me. It was a copy of a webpage for NorthStar.
“What’s this?”
“All the information I could find about NorthStar. And that,” he nodded at the paper, “was not a quick Google search.”
“This is it?” There was a logo and an address for a PO Box in Florida.
“Afraid so. Looks like a dummy corporation.”
“And that is?”
“A shell company that’s a front for another company, and that company is just a dummy for yet another company.”
I sighed and looked up from the paper. “So can we find the dummy who’s in charge?”
“Easier said than done. These things are usually set up as tax shelters. There are often many, many knots to unravel. Think of it as the Russian nesting dolls of corporations. Could take years to figure it all out. And that isn’t my area of expertise.”
One step forward, two steps back.
“Now what is this about finding out BJ’s real name?”
I told him the creative version of my conversation with BJ and finished up with Sullivan having Axton.
“How do you know it’s true? Maybe he’s just telling you that to make you back off.” He sipped his coffee and glanced at me over the rim of the cup.
I shrugged. “He sounded pretty convincing. But I also found at least one NorthStar business has a link to Packard Graystone.” I told him the link I found between Packard and Sun Kissed Manny.
Dane rubbed one finger along his temple. “None of this makes sense.”
“I want to know more about that list of people I showed you, the one with dates and numbers. How do they fit in?”
“You can’t seriously think the people on that list have anything to do with Axton’s disappearance? I know those people. Mayor Briggs was on that list. And Martin Mathers, the Chief of Police? You think he’s involved?”
“Why else would Axton give it to me for safekeeping? What else could Sullivan want?”
“I don’t know, but the idea of these people being involved with…” he trailed off.
“Kidnapping a pothead?”
“Come on, even you have to admit this is a little crazy. Do you think Michael Dayton, one of the partners at my firm, and my boss by the way, even knows Axton?”
“What do you mean even I have to admit this is crazy? Axton had this hard drive for a reason, Dane. He gave it to me for a reason. This is connected to his kidnapping whether you want to believe it or not.”
He leaned forward, a look of pity crossed his face. “I know you want to believe that, but there’s no evidence to support it. Axton doesn’t move in these circles. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Axton doesn’t, but his brother does.”
He leaned back. “Right. A well respected doctor, a member of the city council, somehow ties into Axton’s disappearance? How? Why? It’s probably a donor list for a charity.”
It bothered me how Dane kept referring to Axton’s kidnapping as a disappearance. It stopped being a disappearance when I saw that chilling photo. But I couldn’t tell Dane that. “Thanks for the info about NorthStar. I need to get back to work.”
Dane grabbed my wrist. “Come on, don’t be like this.”
I pulled away. “It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later.” I stepped into the kitchen to take a deep breath.
Dane totally dismissed me.
Why would Axton have an encrypted list on a hard drive if it wasn’t important? I was convinced I was right. If Dane didn’t want to help, fine. I’d keep going on my own.
Even after Sullivan’s latest threat, it never crossed my mind to quit looking for Ax. I missed him so much. His goofy grin, his Star Wars t-shirts, the way he’d drop by the diner for breakfast or bring me a pizza and a horrible sci-fi movie. Axton had the sweetest spirit of anyone I’d ever met.
Sullivan certainly made it clear he wanted me to quit looking. I had a good reason to let this go, the safety of my family and friends. But my heart had an Axton-shaped hole right now. I would keep going.
An hour after Dane left, Steve Gunderson walked through the door and propped his umbrella against the wall. He smiled and waved at me before taking off his glasses and rubbing them against his white button-down.
“Hey.” He slid onto a stool and leaned his elbows on the counter. “Haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, so I thought I’d check in.”
“That’s nice of you.” I poured him a cup of coffee, introduced him to Ma.
“Now which one are you?” she asked.
“Steve works with Axton.”
Roxy walked up, her jaw in constant motion. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “I just wanted to see if Rose had any news.”
I gave Roxy a death stare. “Steve’s worried about Axton, too.”
“Wanted to see you is more like it,” she muttered as she moved behind me.
“What can I get you, Steve?” I asked.
He ordered another cup to go and only stayed ten minutes. Long enough for him to ask me out. “Do you like Indian food? The Taj Mahal over on Blossom Avenue makes this curry—”
“Steve.” I touched his arm. “You’re a really nice guy—”
He glanced down at my hand. “Hey, no problem.” His crooked grin tilted to one side. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I felt a little bad for him, but it was better to cut these things off at the pass. Cruel to be kind and all that.
Customers were few and far between as the cold rain continued, so I didn’t feel guilty about calling Sheila Graystone during my shift. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“What have you found out?” she asked as soon as she heard my voice.
“The first number belonged to Huntingford Bank and Trust.”
She paused for a long moment. “Go on.”
“One call from Charles Beaumont.”
“That makes sense. He and Charles are both on the city council. What else?”
“One call from the Sun Kissed Tanning Salon.”
“What?” she asked, surprise in her voice. “That must have been a wrong number or something.”
“Maybe. And the last number belongs to a man named Sullivan.” If I had been waiting for a big revelation, I was in for a disappointment.
“Is that it? That’s all? I mean, there wasn’t…?”
“No women.”
“Of course not. I told you.” In spite of her words, I heard the relief in her voice.
“So, who is this Sullivan guy?” I tried to make the question sound casual. “He and Packard spoke nine times.”
“Who knows? Probably something to do with the city council. Pack even has a committee meeting tonight and that almost never happens on a Sunday. I guess I was worried for nothing,” she said with a little laugh.
Uh huh. “Take care, Sheila.”
Roxy stood next to me chomping her gum as she filled the coffee pot with water.
“I’m going to follow Packard tonight, want to come?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Where are you going?” Ma sat at the counter, sipping her coffee.
Ray came out of the kitchen with my omelet in one hand, Roxy’s cinnamon roll in the other. “Thanks, Ray.”
“Son, the biscuits were too salty this morning,” Ma said to Ray’s retreating back. She looked at me. “What’s going on tonight?”
“We’re going to follow Packard. He told Sheila he’s going to a city council meeting, but I think he’s lying.”
“Ooooh, that sounds like fun. Just like a television show.” She looked at me expectantly. When I said nothing, her face dropped. “Well. You girls have a good time.” I knew she wanted to come, but I wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea. It could be dangerous. And the woman was almost eighty, for crying out loud.
“Don’t you have bingo or dominoes or bridge club tonight?” I asked.
“No, bunko got canceled. The woman hosting it had a stroke.”
“Oh Ma, I’m sorry.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Roxy asked.
“Oh, sure, it was a mild one. Hey, at our age, stuff like that happens.”
That’s what I was afraid of. “Well,” I said, frowning, “you probably don’t want to go with—”
“I’d love to.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “This is going to be such a kick.”
I wished I shared her enthusiasm.