The Perfect Murder by Kat Martin
TWENTY-SEVEN
Reese phoned the Garrett Resources contract lawyers and set the wheels in motion to cancel the deal. But he wasn’t ready to contact Sea Titan yet. Giving the kidnappers what they wanted could be a death sentence for Griff.
It was afternoon when Tabby called on Reese’s disposable phone. They were back at the kitchen table, Gran holed up in her room.
“I’m with Kenzie,” Reese said. “I’m putting you on speaker.” Whatever happened, Kenzie deserved to be kept in the loop. Plus, he was sure there was no way in hell she was letting him do this alone. He set the phone on the table.
“A couple of things,” Tabby said. “First, I’m still working on that trace. These guys are good. I haven’t got anything yet, but I’ll keep at it.”
“Thanks, Tab.”
“Also, I’ve been looking into Black Sand Oil and Gas.”
“And?”
“The company has definitely been slipping in and out of the red. They need a way to infuse money into their coffers or they’re going to be in serious trouble.”
So his suspicions were confirmed. Black Sand needed the Poseidon. The question was, what lengths would they go to in order to get it? Murder? Kidnapping? Griff was Arthur’s grandson, his own flesh and blood. Was he willing to put the boy in danger to save his failing business?
“Anything else?” Reese asked.
“Hawk talked to one of his informants, picked up some info on Arthur Haines. Turns out Lee Haines wasn’t a gambler, but his father is. According to Hawk, Arthur keeps it strictly on the down-low, only sits in on the most exclusive card games, but word is he fancies himself a highly skilled player and he isn’t interested in anything but very high stakes.”
Reese cast a glance at Kenzie, caught a spark of anger in her eyes. She was making the same connection he was. It was looking more and more like Arthur was involved.
“Where does Arthur gamble?” Kenzie asked.
“With a company to run in Dallas,” Reese added, “it may not be Vegas. Good chance it’s somewhere closer to home.”
“I took a look at his credit card receipts,” Tabby said. “As a high-dollar player, his hotel stays, food, and alcohol would be comped. They’d give him pretty much anything he wanted. But I found gas receipts along the route to Louisiana.”
“Louisiana,” Reese repeated. “That connection keeps cropping up.”
“It looks like Shreveport was his destination. There are half a dozen casinos along the river.”
“Can you tell which club he plays in?” Kenzie asked.
“There are a few miscellaneous charges in the area around the Pot-of-Gold Resort Casino. A Mexican restaurant and a little bakery, both within walking distance. But Sam’s Town isn’t much farther away. For now that’s all I’ve got.”
“Thank you so much, Tabby,” Kenzie said.
“Stay safe, you two.”
Reese shoved the phone into his pocket. “Hawk thinks Lee was killed by a shooter connected to the Louisiana mob. They run the casinos. Now we find a link between Arthur and the Shreveport clubs.”
“I can’t believe Arthur would harm his own grandson,” Kenzie said.
“If he’s gambling in high-stakes games, he might owe the casino more money than he can pay. Those guys don’t mess around. A couple of broken legs would be less than nothing to them. Big losses? Could be a whole lot worse.”
Kenzie picked up her mug, the coffee long grown cold. Instead of taking a sip, her hands shook as she set the mug back down on the table. Reese wished he could convince her to eat something, but so far she hadn’t had a bit of food all day.
His disposable rang again. It was Hawk. Reese hit the speaker button.
“You talk to Tabby?” Hawk asked.
“She called, brought us to speed.”
“According to Tab, Black Sand Oil and Gas is in financial trouble. Maybe Arthur owes the casino boys money he can’t repay.”
“Same thought we had,” Reese said. “Could be, getting the company back on track is the only way to generate the capital he needs to repay his debt. Black Sand Oil and Gas never made an offer on the Poseidon, but owning it would be a real game changer.”
“Makes sense—which is why I’m on my way to Shreveport. I’ve got connections there. Might be able to find out if Haines owes money to the mob. If he does, good chance he’s involved in everything that’s been going on. I’ll let you know what I come up with.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Kenzie said, tears creeping back into her voice.
Hawk’s deep voice softened. “Try to stay positive till I get back to you, okay, Kenzie?”
She swallowed. “Okay.” The line went dead and she wiped tears from her cheeks. Pushing wearily up from her chair, she paced restlessly around the kitchen. “We need to talk to Arthur. Force him to tell us what’s going on.”
“It’s risky,” Reese said. Though he could imagine putting his hands around Arthur’s neck and squeezing the information out of him. “If Arthur’s involved in the kidnapping, it could put Griff’s life in danger.”
Kenzie turned, looked him straight in the face. “You’re right. We can’t trust Arthur. But Lee’s dead and now Griff’s been kidnapped. Arthur has to be the key. We have to talk to him. We don’t have any choice.”
Reese scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough growth along his unshaven jaw. He was tired, yet worry kept his adrenaline pumping. Kenzie was right. Griff’s time was running out. Arthur could have the answers they so desperately needed. There was no other choice.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll see what Arthur has to say.”
Griff curled up on the king-size bed. He was lying on a fancy spread, silky and kind of smooth, but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t tell the color. He could move around a little, but one of his wrists was handcuffed to the headboard so he couldn’t get far.
He didn’t remember how he got there. He didn’t remember anything about last night. Just going to bed, then waking up in this room. His eyes burned but he had already cried too much when the men weren’t around.
He checked the digital clock on the nightstand. Every hour, one of them came in to check on him. They brought him food or took him to the bathroom, which was also fancy, with lots of mirrors and one of those big Jacuzzi tubs.
The men wore black ski masks so he couldn’t see their faces, but one of them turned on the TV and set it to the Disney channel, which was better than just staring at the walls. He had a feeling he was in some fancy hotel. He didn’t know where, but he hoped it was in Dallas so it wouldn’t take long for him to get home.
His throat tightened as fear slithered through him. So far the men were treating him okay, but the short one was constantly bitching about having to babysit a kid. The bigger one was nicer, but he could tell the man didn’t really want to be there.
Neither did he. Even school was better than being locked up in some weird place with no idea when they would let him go.
His throat ached. What if they killed him instead of letting him go? It seemed like it would be a lot easier and they wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught.
He reminded himself that Reese was with his mom. Reese had said they were going to bring him home. It was like a promise. Reese was rich and smart, and Griff could tell Reese liked his mom a lot. If the men wanted money, he was sure Reese would give it to them.
He hung on to the thought as he waited for another hour to pass. Reese and his mom would give the men what they wanted and they would let him go.
In the meantime, he wasn’t a baby. He wasn’t going to cry in front of them. No way was he letting them see how scared he really was.
As he glanced at the clock, he thought of his mom and Gran and how much he wanted to go home. One of the men would be coming in soon. He wondered what Reese would do if he’d been kidnapped. It was the first time the thought had actually formed in his head.
He was pretty sure he knew what Reese would do.
Reese would try to escape.
As the mother of Arthur’s grandchild, Kenzie calling Arthur’s office wasn’t out of the ordinary. She identified herself, and his assistant, a young man named Jonathan O’Neill, informed her that his boss wasn’t feeling well and had taken the day off.
“Mr. Haines is home recovering,” Jonathan said. “If you need him, you should be able to reach him there.”
“I have that number. Thanks for your help.” Kenzie wondered if he’d heard the rumors that she was responsible for Arthur’s son’s murder, though his tone betrayed nothing.
Kenzie turned to Reese, who sat next to her at the kitchen table. “Arthur’s at home. His assistant said he took the day off.”
“Better for us,” Reese said, a hard edge in his voice. “No witnesses.”
Kenzie cut him a sharp glance but he was already out of his chair and moving toward the door.
“I need to check around the area before we leave,” he said. “Make sure no one is watching. Hang on till I get back.”
He returned a few minutes later, certain the town house wasn’t under surveillance. They climbed into his shiny black Jag and Kenzie gave him directions to Arthur’s mansion on Deloache Avenue in Old Preston Hollow. As they pulled up in front of the house, which resembled a French château, Kenzie noticed a for-sale sign in the yard.
“Looks like Tabby was right,” she said. “Arthur loves this place. There’s no way he would sell it unless he had to.”
“Let’s go see what he has to say.” Reese got out of the Jag and they walked together up to the porch. As Reese rang the doorbell, Kenzie noticed the drapes were drawn in Arthur’s study and several rooms upstairs.
It took a few minutes before the door swung open and Arthur’s housekeeper, Betty Vernon, a stout, older woman who had worked for Arthur for years, stood in the opening.
“Hello, Betty,” Kenzie said, casting Reese a warning glance. There would be at least one witness to whatever he might have planned. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Betty looked nervous, her gaze going from Kenzie to Reese and back. She had definitely heard the rumors that Kenzie was responsible for Lee’s death.
“I’m afraid Mr. Haines is a little under the weather,” the housekeeper said. “In fact, I was just about to leave. Mr. Haines gave me the rest of the day off so he could have the house to himself.”
Kenzie reached out and touched the woman’s arm. “We need to talk to him, Betty. It’s about his grandson.”
“It’s important,” Reese added.
Betty hesitated, clearly uncertain. “All right, I’ll just go up and tell him you’re here.”
“You don’t need to worry.” Kenzie smiled. “We’ll check on him, make sure he’s okay.” Kenzie hoped her concern appeared at least half-genuine, though she had never been much of an actress. “You go ahead. We promise not to stay too long.”
Reese gave her one of his most charming smiles. “Thanks, Betty. Enjoy your day off.”
Not surprisingly, Betty returned his smile and stepped back to let them in. They climbed the sweeping staircase, holding on to the ornate wrought-iron banister. Though the sun was shining outside, the gilded wall sconces were burning, necessary with the bedroom doors all closed, blocking the sunlight. The master suite sat at the end of the hall, the door also closed. Was Arthur that ill? Or was he hiding from something? Or someone?
Kenzie rapped lightly. “Arthur? It’s Kenzie. I need to talk to you.”
A brief pause ensued. “I’m not feeling well. You’ll have to come back another time.”
Instead Reese opened the door and they walked into the huge master suite. A big four-poster bed dominated the room, a pair of suitcases sitting open on top of the peach silk counterpane. One of the bags was full, Arthur busily throwing clothes into the other.
“Going somewhere?” Reese drawled, the coolness in his tone disguising the anger Kenzie read in his face.
Arthur just stood there, his gaze darting around the room in search of a way to escape.
“How can you be part of this, Arthur?” Kenzie’s temper rose. “Lee is dead. Griff’s been kidnapped. Are you that desperate?”
Arthur’s thick silver eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His shoulders slumped as if lead bars weighed them down. He looked ten years older. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not fools,” Reese said. “We know you’re involved in this. Tell us where the boy is and you can fly off to wherever the hell you want.”
The color drained out of Arthur’s face. “The boy? You don’t mean Griff? Are you...are you saying someone has kidnapped my grandson?”
“You know they have,” Kenzie said, fighting to stay in control. “You wanted the Poseidon. The kidnappers are demanding Reese back out of the purchase in exchange for Griff’s release.”
Arthur swayed. He might have fallen if Reese hadn’t gripped his shoulder, dragged him over to a nearby chair, and shoved him down into the seat.
“Mother of God,” he said. “I didn’t know, I swear. I owe them money. They said they’d get the rig for me so I could pay them back, but...but...”
Reese stared down at him. “But what, Arthur?”
Arthur said nothing.
“By now your housekeeper is gone and we’re all alone in this big house,” Reese said. “On most occasions, I’m a civilized man, but I can promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to wring the information out of you.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll do what I have to—and enjoy every minute of it.”
Arthur just sat there shaking his head. “I didn’t know about Griff until you just told me. They said they’d get me the platform. They never told me how.” His eyes, a pale shade of blue, found Kenzie’s across the bedroom. “I’m sorry, my dear. So sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt the boy.”
“Who’s behind this, Arthur?” Reese pressed. “Give me a name.”
For a moment, Arthur’s eyes slid closed. He dragged in a shaky breath of air.
“Now, Arthur,” Reese demanded.
“His name is Sawyer DeMarco. He owns the Pot-of-Gold casino, among other clubs in the state. I owe him several million dollars.”
“Keep talking,” Reese commanded.
“DeMarco says the Oklahoma casinos are cutting into his profits, costing him a lot of money. He wants to build clubs in northern Louisiana to make up for the losses. He needs me to convince Daniel to help him. He knows if Daniel supports the proposal, the legislature will fall into line and the state will grant him the permits he needs.” Arthur looked at Kenzie with regret-filled eyes. “More casinos mean more money. That’s what this is all about.”
“What does Daniel think of this?” Reese asked. “He willing to go along with DeMarco’s plans?”
Arthur shook his head. “I went to see him over the weekend. He refused to even consider DeMarco’s request.”
Kenzie’s throat tightened. She just wanted her son to come home. “Please, Arthur, if you have any idea where they might have taken Griff—”
“I don’t know!” He shot up from the chair and his gaze jerked to Reese. “DeMarco killed Lee!” He swallowed. “He murdered my son and now Daniel is also in danger! I’d tell you where the boy is if I knew!”
The anguish etched into his face said it was the truth. Reese flicked a glance at Kenzie. “Let’s go.” As they stepped out into the hall, he turned back and pinned Arthur with a glare.
“We were never here. You understand that, Haines? Because you open your mouth about any of this and Sawyer DeMarco won’t be the only one you’ll have to deal with. I can personally guarantee, you won’t walk away in one piece.”
