Long pause. “Don’t know who you’re talking about, friend.”
“Whatever Ryan Vallance and David Barren had going with you, it doesn’t involve Rachel or her kids. Just let them go. Her parents are waiting for your call. They’ll pay.”
Longer pause. Much longer. “You a cop?”
“No. Just a friend.”
“Listen, I don’t know anything about this. Best not call back, understand? Forget this number.”
Then the line was dead.
I looked at the burner phone and shut it off.
Since I’d found the business card in David’s desk, a seed of an idea had sprouted in my head. Rachel had told me David and Ryan’s business had been hurting for quite a while now. This, combined with Ryan’s three-day absence and meat loaf face when he returned, screamed he owed some serious folks money. Maybe he’d been skimming cash off the books and David had found out. Maybe a payment had been late and whoever owned the bill of sale to Ryan’s ass had held him until David came through with some money. Maybe it hadn’t been enough and someone had come to collect in full the other night and David had been able to pay only with his life.
Then they’d taken Rachel and the boys.
Whoever Dad saw driving away that night could’ve had them stashed in the back seat or in the trunk. That explained why Rachel’s phone had been left behind—no way to track her. But that scenario left another large hole in the picture. If she and the boys had been taken, why hadn’t a ransom been demanded yet?
Perhaps it was too soon. They’d only been missing for around thirty hours, give or take. Maybe a call would come in today or tomorrow. Maybe the kidnappers were biding their time for some other reason. Or maybe the call I’d just made would nudge them over the edge and they’d execute Rachel and the boys to cut their losses.
I was going to be sick.
Breathing heavily through my nose, I paced through the house and out onto the back porch. The fresh air did some good, but a solid piece of granite had settled in my center. Was I doing more harm than good? Should I just sit on my hands and let the police do their work? Could I do that? And how did the note tie into everything? It had come prior to all this. Had the same people who killed David sent it to cut me off from Rachel before everything happened?
It didn’t really make sense.
“Here, Tosca!” Allen Crane stood in his backyard a few houses away. The terrier came flouncing out of the woods and stopped at his owner’s feet. Crane bent and petted the dog, handing him a treat, speaking in a low voice. I watched as he straightened, taking in his height, the set of his shoulders, imagined him holding a gun in the dark and chasing me through the woods. Physically he fit the bill. If only I’d gotten a better look at the guy’s face, heard his voice, something. Then I’d know for sure. At the very least he had been the one to discover David’s body and call in the crime. Sometimes criminals would alert the authorities to their own misdeeds, thinking it removed them from suspicion.
Crane caught me looking at him. He didn’t wave. Instead he clicked his tongue at Tosca, and they went back to the house, the dog oblivious, the master very aware.
Right. Time to call Kel.
“No. Absolutely not, Andy! I can’t believe you’re even asking me.” Kel’s voice was hushed but loud enough to reflect her anger at my requisition. “If I got caught doing an unregistered inquiry, that’s my job. Done. Finito. Then what? Are you gonna support me too? Are the books selling that well?”
I sighed. “No. Not really.”
She breathed out and swore quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it.”
“Why are you so interested in Crane anyway?”
“It’s a long story. I just thought you could see where he moved here from or if there was anything fishy on his record.”
“You think he killed David? And what, he’s hiding Rachel and the boys somewhere?”
“I don’t know, but . . .” But it was the only thread I had other than the HerringBone number. If Crane was the one who’d sent us the notes, he could be more deeply involved, tangentially or otherwise. Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was just a guy rounding the corner of a house after Rachel kissed me. Wrong place, wrong time. I was desperate and grasping at straws and I knew it. Nothing made sense. My compass spun.
“But what?” Kel asked.
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “No, you’re right. Don’t do a search on him. It’s probably nothing. I’m just going a little stir-crazy over here, that’s all. Haven’t been sleeping well.”