Remember When

15.

It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, a middle-class bull's-eye with well-kept lawns and big leafy trees so old their roots had heaved up through portions of the sidewalks. Most driveways boasted SUVs, the suburbanites' transportation of choice. Many had car seats, and there were enough bikes and clunky secondhanders to tell Max the age of kids in the neighborhood ranged from babies to teens.

The house was an attractive two-story English Tudor with a pretty blanket of lawn decorated with sedate flower beds and neatly trimmed shrubs. And a SOLD sign.

Max didn't need the realtor's sign to tell him the place was empty. There were no curtains at the windows, no cars in the drive, no debris a young boy might leave in his wake.

"Skipped," Jack said.

"Gee, Jack, thanks for the bulletin."

"Guess it's irksome to come all this way and hit a dead end."

"There are no dead ends, just detours."

"Nice philosophy, son."

Max stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. "Irksome?" he repeated, and Jack just grinned. "Neighborhood like this has to have at least one nosy neighbor. Let's knock on doors, Jack."

"What's the line?"

"I don't need a line. I've got an investigator's license."

Jack nodded as they started toward the house on the left. "People in this kind of place like talking to PIs. Adds excitement to the day. But I don't think you're going to tell Nosy Alice you're looking for a lead on twenty-eight mill in stolen diamonds."

"I'm trying to locate Laura Gregory—that's the name she's using here—and verify if she is the Laura Gregory who's a beneficiary in a will. Details are confidential."

"Good one. Simple and clean. People like wills, too. Free money." Jack fussed with the knot of his tie. "How do I look?"

"You're a fine-looking man, Jack, but I still don't want to date you."

"Ha!" He gave Max a slap on the back. "I like you, Max, damned if I don't."

"Thanks. Now just keep quiet and let me handle this."

They were still several paces from the door of a modified split-level when it opened. The woman who stepped out was in her middle thirties and wearing a faded sweatshirt over faded jeans. The anthemlike theme music from Star Wars poured out the door behind her.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, ma'am." Max reached for his ID. "I'm Max Gannon, a private investigator. I'm looking for Laura Gregory."

She looked hard at the identification, with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "Oh?"

"It's nothing untoward, Mrs. . . ."

"Gates. Hayley Gates."

"Mrs. Gates. I've been hired to locate Ms. Gregory and verify that she's the Laura Gregory named as a beneficiary in a will."

"Oh," she repeated as the glimmer spread to a sparkle.

"My associate and I . . . I'm Bill Sullivan, by the way." To Max's annoyance, Jack stepped forward, took Mrs. Gates's hand and pumped it heartily. "We were hoping to speak to Mrs. Gregory personally to verify that she is indeed the grandniece of the late Spiro Hanroe. There was a bit of a family schism in the previous generation, and several of the family members, including Mrs. Gregory's parents, broke contact." He lifted his hands in a shrug. "Families. What can you do?"

"I know just what you mean. Excuse me just a minute." She stuck her head back in the door. "Matthew? I'm right outside. My oldest is home sick," she explained as she eased the door closed but for a crack. "I'd ask you in, but it's a madhouse in there. You can see Laura sold the house." She gestured toward the house next door. "Put it on the market about a month ago—rock-bottom price, too. My sister's the realtor who listed it. Laura wanted to sell it fast, and the fact is, she moved even before it sold. She was planting her summer annuals one day and packing dishes the next."

"That's odd, isn't it?" Max commented. "She mention why?"

"Well, she said her mother in Florida was ill, seriously ill, and she was moving down there to take care of her. She lived next door for three years, and I don't remember her ever mentioning her mother. Her son and my oldest played together. He's a sweet boy, her Nate. Quiet. They were both quiet. It was nice for my Matt to have a friend next door, and Laura was easy to get along with. I always thought she came from money though."

"Did you?"

"Just a feeling. And she worked part-time at an upscale gift shop at the mall. She couldn't have afforded the house, the car, the lifestyle, if you know what I mean, on her salary. She told me she came into an inheritance. It's funny she came into two, isn't it?"

"Did she tell you where in Florida?"

"No. Just Florida, and she was in a tearing hurry to get going. Sold or gave away a lot of her things, and Nate's, too. Packed up her car and zipped. She left . . . I guess it's three weeks ago. Little better than that. She said she'd call when she was settled, but she hasn't. It was almost like she was running away."

"From?"

"I always—" She cut herself off, eyed them both a bit more cautiously. "Are you sure she's not in trouble?"

"Not with us." Max sent out a brilliant smile before Jack could speak. "We're just paid by the Hanroe estate to find the beneficiaries and confirm identification. Do you think she's in trouble?"

"I can't imagine how, really. But I always figured a man—ex-husband—somewhere in the background, you know? She never dated. Not once since she's been here. And Laura never talked about Nate's father. Neither did Nate. But, the night before she listed the house, I saw a guy come by. Drove up in a Lexus, and he was carrying a box. All wrapped up with a bow, like a birthday present, but it wasn't Nate's birthday, or Laura's either, for that matter. He only stayed about twenty minutes. Next morning, she called my sister and put the house on the market, quit her job, and now that I think about it, she kept Nate home from school for the next week."

"Did she tell you who her visitor was?" Jack made the question conversational, as if they were all out here enjoying the spring weather and shooting the breeze. "You must've asked. Anybody'd be curious."

"Not really. I mean, yes, I mentioned I'd seen the car. She just said it was someone she used to know and clammed up. But I think it was the ex, and she totally freaked. You don't just sell your house and your furniture and drive off that way because your mother's sick. Hey, maybe he heard about this inheritance and was trying to wheedle his way back so he could cash in. People can be so low, you know?"

"They certainly can. Thanks, Mrs. Gates." Max offered a hand. "You've been very helpful."

"If you find her, tell her I'd really like her to call. Matt misses Nate something fierce."

"We'll do that."

"He got to her," Jack said as they started back to the rental car.

"Oh yeah, and I don't think there was a birthday present in the pretty box. She's running." He glanced back at the empty house. "Running from him, running with the diamonds, or both?"

"Woman runs like that's scared," was Jack's opinion. "Odds are even if he dumped the diamonds on her for safekeeping, she doesn't even know she's got them. Crew's not a man to trust anybody, especially an ex-wife. That's my take on it. So . . . are we going to Florida to work on our tans?"

"She's not in Florida, and we're going back to Maryland. I'll pick up her trail, but I've got a date with a beautiful redhead."

***

"You'll drive." Crew shifted the gun from Laine's kidney to the base of her spine. "I'm afraid you'll have to climb over. Do it quickly, Ms. Tavish."

She could scream, she could run. She could die. Would die, she corrected as she lowered herself into the passenger seat, maneuvered over the center console. Since she wasn't willing to die, she'd have to wait for a reasonable chance of escape.

"Seat belt," Crew reminded her.

As she drew it around to secure, she felt the lump of her cell phone in her left pocket. "I'll need the keys."

"Of course. Now, I'm going to warn you once, only once. You'll drive normally and carefully, you'll obey the traffic laws. If you make any attempt to draw attention, I'll shoot you." He handed her the keys. "Trust me on that."

"I do."

"Then let's get started. Head out of town and take Sixty-eight, east." He shifted his body so she could see the gun. "I don't like to be driven, but we'll make an exception. You should be grateful to your dog. If he hadn't been in the back, we'd have gone out that way and you'd be taking this ride in the trunk."

God bless you, Henry. "I prefer this position." As she drove she considered, and rejected, the idea of flooring the gas or trying to whip the wheel. Maybe, just maybe, that kind of heroic action worked in the movies, but movie bullets were blanks.

What she needed to do was somehow leave a trail. And stay alive long enough for someone to follow it. "Were you what scared Willy into running into the street?"

"One of those twists of fate or timing or just bad luck. Where are the diamonds?"

"This conversation, and my existence, would both be over very quickly if I told you."

"At least you're bright enough not to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"What would be the point?" She flicked a glance at the rearview mirror, let her eyes widen, then slid her eyes toward it again. It was enough to have him turning his head, looking behind. And when he did, she dipped her hand in her pocket, played her fingers over the buttons, praying she was counting correctly, and hit what she hoped was Redial.

"Eyes on the road," he snapped.

She gripped the wheel with both hands, squeezed once and thought, Answer the phone, Max, answer the phone and listen. "Where are we going, Mr. Crew?"

"Just drive."

"Sixty-eight East is a long road. Are you adding interstate abduction to your list?"

"It would hardly make the top of it."

"I guess you're right. I'd drive better if you weren't pointing that gun at me."

"The better you drive, the less chance there is it will go off and put an ugly hole in your very pretty skin. True redheads—as I assume you are, given your father—have such delicate skin."

She didn't want him thinking about her skin or putting holes in it. "Jenny's going to send out an alarm when I don't come back."

"It'll be too late to make any difference. Stay at the speed limit."

She sped up until she hit sixty-five. "Nice pickup. I've never driven a Mercedes. It's heavy." She ran a hand over her throat as if nervous and babbling. "Smooth though. Looks like a diplomat's car or something. You know, black Mercedes sedan."

"You won't distract me with small talk."

"I'm trying to distract myself, if you don't mind. It's the first time I've been kidnapped at gunpoint. You broke into my house."

"And if I'd found my property, we wouldn't be taking this little trip together."

"You made a hell of a mess."

"I didn't have the luxury of time."

"I don't suppose it would do any good to point out that you already have half the take when the deal was a quarter? And to say that once you get past, oh, say, ten million, the rest is superfluous."

"No, it wouldn't. You'll take the next exit."

"Three twenty-six?"

"South, to One forty-four East."

"All right. All right. Three twenty-six South to One forty-four East." She glanced over. "You don't look like the sort of man to spend much time in state forests. We're not going camping, are we?"

"You and your father have inconvenienced me considerably, and added to my expenses. He'll pay for that."

She followed his directions, carefully repeating them. She had to believe the call to Max had gone through. That her phone's batteries were still up, that she hadn't dropped out of range.

"Alleghany Recreation Park," she said as she turned off the macadam and onto gravel at Crew's instructions. "Really doesn't fit the Mercedes."

"Take the left fork."

"Cabins. Rustic, private."

"Bear right."

"A lot of trees. Deerwalk Lane. Cute. I'm being abducted to a cabin on Deerwalk Lane. It just doesn't sound menacing enough."

"The last, on the left."

"Good choice. Completely sheltered by the trees, barely within sight of the next cabin."

She had to turn off the phone. He'd find it, she thought. He was bound to find it, and if it was on when he did, she'd lose even that slim advantage.

"Turn off the car." He slapped it into Park himself. "Give me the keys."

She obeyed, turning her head, meeting his eyes, holding them. "I don't intend to do anything that gets me shot. I'm not going to be brave or stupid." As she spoke, she slipped her hand into her pocket, ran her thumb over the buttons and pushed End.

"You can start by climbing out this way." He opened the door at his back, slid out. The gun remained pointed at her heart as she hefted her hips over the console.

"Now, let's go inside." He nudged her forward. "And chat."

***

He'd made good time, Max thought as he strode across the terminal toward the exit. He'd be able to pick up Laine from Jenny's after he tucked Jack away. He didn't think it the best idea to take his future father-in-law to a cop's house.

The problem was trusting him.

He glanced back, noted Jack was still wearing a sickly tinge of green. They'd caught a prop plane out of Columbus to the local municipal, and Jack had been varying shades of green since takeoff.

"Hate those tin cans—tin cans with wings, that's all they are." His skin was still gleaming with sweat as he leaned against the hood of Max's car. "Need to get my legs under me."

"Get them under you in the car." Because he felt some sympathy, he opened the door, helped Jack settle his bulk inside. "You puke in my ride, I'm going to kick your ass. Just FYI."

He rounded the hood, got behind the wheel. He figured Big Jack could fake all manner of illnesses, but it took more talent than he could possess to change color. "Here's what else is going to happen. I'm taking you to Laine's, and you're staying there until I get back with her. You take off, I'll find you, haul you back and beat you senseless with a stick. Clear on that?"

"I want a bed. All I want's a bed."

Amused, Max backed out of his parking slot. Remembering his phone, he dug it out of his pocket. He'd had to turn it off during the flight. Switching it back on, he ignored the beep that told him he had voice mail and called Laine, cell to cell. He heard her recorded voice tell him to leave a message.

"Hey, baby, I'm back, heading out of the airport. Gotta make one stop, then I'll be by to pick you up. Fill you in when I see you. Oh, got a few things for you. Later."

Jack spoke with his head back, his eyes closed. "It's dangerous to drive talking on one of those things."

"Shut up, Jack." But because he agreed, Max started to put it aside, when it beeped for an incoming. Certain it was Laine, he answered. "You're quick. I was just . . . Vince?"

When fear bounced like an ice ball into his belly, he whipped the car to the side of the road. "When? For Christ's sake, that's more than an hour ago. I'm on my way."

He tossed the phone on the console, punched the gas. "He's got her."

"No, no, that's not true." Even the sickly green had died away, leaving Jack's face bone white. "He can't have her, not my baby girl."

"He got her out of the shop just after five o'clock. Vince thinks they're in a dark sedan. A couple of people saw her get into a car with a man, but he doesn't have a good description of the vehicle." He had the Porsche up to ninety. "Jenny's got a good description of the guy. Long brown hair, ponytail, soul patch, sunglasses. White male, forty-five to fifty, six-foot, average build."

"The hair's a blind, but it'd be him. He's got to get to me to get the diamonds. He'll hurt her."

"We're not going to think about that. We're going to think of how to find them and get her back." His hands were ice cold on the wheel. "He needs a place. If he thinks the stones are here, he won't go far. He needs a private place, not a hotel. He'll contact you, or me. He'll—shit !"

He fumbled for the phone.

"Give it to me. You kill us, we can't help her." Jack snatched it away, punched for the voice mail.

"You have two new messages. First new message received May eighteenth, at five-fifteen P.M.

They heard Laine's voice, dead calm. "Sixty-eight East is a long road. Are you adding interstate abduction to your list?"

"Smart," Max breathed. "She's very smart." He shot the Porsche like a bullet onto an off-ramp, spun it like a top and rocketed to backtrack toward the interstate.

He listened to every word, blocked the fear. When the call ended, he had to order himself not to tell Jack to replay it just so he could hear her voice. "Get Vince back, give him the vehicle description and the destination. Alleghany Recreational Park. Tell him we're en route and that Crew is armed."

"But we're not waiting for the cops?"

"No, we're not waiting for them."

He flew toward the forest.

***

Laine stepped into the cabin, looked around the spacious living area with its stone fireplace and dark, heavy wood. It was time, she concluded, for a change of tack.

Stalling was fine, it was good. Anything that kept her from getting shot or beaten was fine and good. But it never paid to depend on a last-minute cavalry charge. Smart money depended on yourself.

So she turned, offered Crew an easy smile. "First, let me say I'm not going to give you any reason to hurt me. I'm not into pain. You could, of course, hurt me anyway, but I'm hoping you've more style than that. We're both civilized people. I have something, you want something." She strolled over to an overstuffed checked sofa, sat, crossed her legs. "Let's negotiate."

"This"—he gestured with the gun—"speaks for itself."

"Use it, get nothing. Why don't you offer me a glass of wine instead?"

He angled his head in consideration and, she thought, reevaluation. "You're a cool one."

"I've had time to settle down. I won't deny you scared me. You certainly did, and still could, but I'm hoping you're open to a reasonable dialogue here."

She flipped quickly through her mental file of what she knew of him and what she could observe.

Towering ego, vanity, greed, sociopathic and homicidal tendencies.

"We're alone, I've got no way out. You're in the driver's seat, but still . . . I have something you want."

She threw back her head and laughed, and could see she'd surprised him. Good. Keep him off balance, keep him thinking. "Oh God, who would have believed the old man had it in him? He's been second-rate all his life, and a serious pain in my ass. Now he comes along with the score of a lifetime. Hell, the score of ten lifetimes. And he drops it right into my lap. I'm sorry about Willy though, he had a sweet nature. But, spilled milk."

She caught of flicker of interest on Crew's face before he opened a drawer, took out a pair of handcuffs.

"Why, Alex, if there's going to be bondage fun, I'd really appreciate that wine first."

"You think I'm buying this?"

"I'm not selling anything." And maybe he wasn't buying, but he was listening to the pitch. She sighed as the cuffs landed in her lap. "All right, your way. Where do you want them?"

"Arm of the couch, to your right hand."

Though the idea of locking herself up had her throat going dry, she did what he said, then sent him a sultry look. "How about that drink?"

With a nod, he walked over to the kitchen, took a bottle out of a cupboard. "Cabernet?"

"Perfect. Do you mind if I ask why a man with your skills and tastes hooked up with Jack?"

"He was useful. And why are you trying to play the hard-edged opportunist?"

She pretended to pout. "I don't like to think I'm hard, just realistic."

"What you are is a small-town shopkeeper who has the bad luck to have my property."

"I think it's remarkably good luck." She took the wine he offered, sipped. "The shop's a nice, steady game. Selling old, often useless items at a nice profit. Also gives me entry into a lot of places that have more old, often useless and very valuable items. I keep my hand in."

"Well." And she could see that while he hadn't considered that angle before, he was now.

"Look, you've got a beef with the old man, fine. He's nothing to me but an albatross. And if he ever taught me anything, it was to look out for number one."

Crew shook his head slowly. "You walked out of that shop with me without a sound, primarily to protect the clerk."

"I wasn't going to argue with the gun you were shoving into my side. And you're right, I didn't want you to hurt her. She's a friend, and for God's sake, she's nearly seven months pregnant. I've got some lines, Alex. I steer clear of violence."

"This is entertaining." He sat, gestured. "How do you explain the fact you're having an affair with Gannon, the insurance investigator?"

"He's terrific in bed, but even if he was a wash in that area, I'd have gotten him there. Keep your friends close, Alex, and your enemies closer. I know every move he makes before he makes it. And here's one for free, show of good faith: he's in New York today." She leaned forward. "They're cooking up a scam to smoke you out. There should be a press release by tomorrow, claiming Max recovered a portion of the diamonds. Max's bright idea is that will set you off, push you into doing something rash. He's smart, I'll give him that, but so far, he can't get a handle on you."

"I guess that makes me smarter."

"I guess it does," she agreed. "He's closing in on Jack, and God knows dear old Dad won't shake him for long. But he hasn't got a clue how to run you down." Ego, ego, ego. Pump his ego. "He's trying this Hail Mary pass."

"Interesting, but an insurance investigator hardly concerns me."

"Why should he? You took him out once already. I had to kiss his hurts." She chuckled. "And doing that, I've kept him busy enough to give you room."

"You want me to thank you. Consider the fact you're not currently in any pain my thanks. Where are the diamonds, Ms. Tavish?"

"Let's make it Laine. I think we're beyond formalities. I've got them. Jack's and Willy's." She shifted on the seat, put a purr in her voice. "What are you going to do with all that money, Alex? Travel? Buy a small country? Sip mimosas on a beach somewhere? Don't you think all of those things, all of the lovely, lovely things people can do with big, fat piles of money is more fun with a like-thinking companion?"

His gaze drifted to her mouth, back up to her eyes. "Is this how you seduced Gannon?"

"No, actually, in that case, I pretended to let him seduce me. He's the type that needs to chase and conquer. I bring a lot to the table. You can have the diamonds, and you can have me."

"I could have them both anyway."

She sat back, sipped. "You could. I find men who enjoy rape the lowest form. If you're one of them, I've misjudged you. You could rape me, beat me, shoot me. I'd certainly tell you where the diamonds are. But then . . ." She sipped again, and put a wicked gleam in her eye. "You wouldn't know if I was telling the truth. You could waste a great deal of time, and I could suffer considerable discomfort. Not very practical when I'm willing to make a deal that gives us both exactly what we want, with a little extra."

He rose. "You're an intriguing woman, Laine." Absently, he pulled off the wig.

"Mmm, better." She pursed her lips as she studied his pewter hair. "Much better. Could I have a refill?" She held out her glass, waggled it gently from side to side. "I'd like to ask you something," she continued when he went back for the bottle. "If you have the rest of the diamonds—"

"If?"

"I've only got your word you do. I don't consider my father a reliable source."

"Oh, I've got them."

"If you do, why not take the bird in the hand and fly rather than beating the bush for the rest?"

His face was stone, the smile carved onto it, and the eyes dead. "I don't settle for half of anything."

"I respect that. Still, I could make sharing very pleasant for you."

He filled her glass, set the bottle on the table. "Sex is overrated."

She gave a low, throaty laugh. "Wanna bet?"

"As attractive as you are, you're just not worth twenty-eight million."

"Now you've hurt my feelings." Get him closer, she thought, get him closer and distract him. It'll hurt, but it'll only hurt for a minute. Bracing herself for it, she leaned forward for the wine, then shifted so the phone in her pocket slapped against the arm of the couch.

He was on her like fury, yanking her hair to drag her down, tearing at her pocket. There were floating black dots of pain and fear whirling in front of her eyes, but she pushed herself up shakily and stared in what she hoped passed as disgust at the wine stains on her pants.

"Oh, for God's sake. I hope you've got some club soda."

He backhanded her so that the black dots exploded into red.