He needed a jolt of caffeine. As he fixed a cup, he got a call from Lauren Gamble, and he answered hoping she had a lead for him.
“Hey, Lauren. What have you got for me?” he greeted her.
“Nothing, I’m afraid. But I need to talk to you,” she said.
“I’m up to my eyeballs right now. Can it wait?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m finishing my piece on you, and I found something in your past that I wanted to discuss.”
Your past. She made it sound ominous. He didn’t want to hear what it was, and tried to sidestep her. “No one wants to read about me. I’m retired, remember?”
“I think our readers would be interested to know why you chose to cancel a vacation to the Keys, and came to Tampa to help with the investigation.”
“I came because I was asked to by Team Adam,” he said. “Focus on that, and skip the rest.”
“You told me you volunteered for the job,” she said.
“What difference does it make?”
“There’s a difference between being asked to do a job and volunteering to do a job. You volunteered to come to Tampa, and I think I know why.”
He didn’t like where the conversation was headed, and took a deep breath before replying. “Is that so. Okay, fire away. Why did I come to Tampa?”
“Because you’re obsessed with helping others.”
“That’s news to me.”
“Admit it, you are.”
“I like helping people. I also like Jimmy Buffett music. Neither of those things make me OCD.”
“You interrupted your vacation for a job that didn’t pay anything. That’s not normal.”
“I disagree. I need to run.”
“I know what happened.”
The breath caught in his throat. “Come again?”
“In the Macy’s department store when you were a kid. I know what happened.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and tried not to panic. “How did you find out?”
“Our intern did. Since you were once a Broward County detective, I had him dig through old newspaper articles about you. The Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel recently digitalized their back copies going back to the 1970s, and I was hoping there might be a story that filled in the blanks. He found one that was written before you were a cop. It was published in September 1981, and your mother was quoted extensively in it.”
He touched his brow, and his hand came away covered in sweat. He’d known Gamble was trouble when he’d met her, but he had gone against his better judgment and brought her into his confidence. Stupid him.
“Do you have any idea how painful this is?” he asked. “Do you?”
“I’m sorry, Jon.”
“Really? Then make it go away.”
“It’s too late for that. The intern showed my boss and me the story at the same time, and my boss told me to include it.”
“Tell your boss you won’t do it.”
“He’ll just give my piece to another reporter to finish. I’m afraid there’s no going back on this. I’ve already finished a rough draft. I need to ask you some questions. It shouldn’t take very long.”
He had run out of arguments, and shook his head in defeat.
“Can I see what you’ve written?” he asked.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll send it after we hang up. Call me after you read it.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
He ended the call and threw his cell phone across the room. His past was not an open book for strangers to read and analyze. Nor did he want his friends to see what had happened to him, and the resulting trauma it had caused. If the past couldn’t be buried, how could a person heal?
He got on his laptop. Gamble’s email arrived with an attachment, and he read the story twice. It was factual, yet still wrong. She had made assumptions that she had no earthly right to make. He spent a few minutes calming down before calling her back. They arranged to meet in thirty minutes.
Ending the call, he again threw his cell phone across the room.
Chapter 38
Their meeting spot was a watering hole on the northern tip of Old Tampa Bay called Jack Willie’s Bar, Grill, and Tiki. The building had a thatched roof and outdoor seating overlooking the water, and a live band was blasting out the oldies.
Pulling into the parking lot, he had an idea. The Outlaws’ three shell companies needed to be checked out, and he couldn’t be on his computer while talking to Gamble. He decided to call Nicki, knowing she’d be willing to help. Only this time, the terms were going to be different.
“Hi, Nicki. You doing homework?”
“All done for the day,” the teenager said. “I just read a story on the news about a woman named Rachel Baye disappearing in Saint Petersburg. The police think it may be linked to the other cases. Is it?”
“Afraid so. Would you be interested in doing some cyber sleuthing for me?”
“You bet! Can I ask my classmates to pitch in as well?”
“No, you can’t. This is very sensitive. If one of your friends posted it on social media, innocent people might get hurt. You have to run solo on this one. And you have to promise me you won’t speak to anyone about it.”
“Sure. I won’t speak to anyone about this, so help me God.”
“Do you have something to write with?”
“I’ve got a pen right here.”
“Great. Write down the names of the following companies. Rebel Soul, West Coast Renegades, and Hurry Sunrise. I’m interested in seeing if they’ve purchased any real estate in the past ten years. The two places that are of most interest are Pinellas and Pasco Counties. If you find a sale, get as much information about it as you can.”
“I’ll get to work on it right away. Do you and Aunt Beth know why these women are being targeted? We talked about it in class today, and no one can figure it out.”
He considered telling her the truth. The victims had been targeted because they’d chosen to fight evil instead of hiding from it, and had been punished for their good deeds. Life wasn’t fair, and sometimes, it was downright cruel. But Nicki was young and impressionable, and perhaps that message wasn’t the right one for him to be delivering.
“We’re not certain what the motivation is,” he said. “Call me if you find anything.”
“Will do. Say hi to Aunt Beth for me.”
Many restaurants in Florida pretended to be yesteryear, and hung sepia-toned photos on the walls and wrote fake histories on their menus. Jack Willie’s was the real deal, and had a weather-beaten ambiance that came with age. He found Gamble at the bar nursing a club soda, and ordered a coke and a bowl of pretzels. Drinks in hand, they took an empty table in the back of the restaurant. Although the bandstand was outside, the loud music made conversation impossible.
“They’ll be taking a break in a few minutes,” she said, nearly shouting.
It was an odd choice for a meeting place, and he wondered if Gamble had picked it because she was afraid that their conversation might turn ugly, and wanted the protection of a large crowd if he got out of line.
He ate pretzels while staring at his cell phone. The purple dot had remained stopped near the tip of Honeymoon Island, and he guessed Dexter and his guest had decided to do some fishing. Outside, the band wrapped up their last number to smattering applause. The lead singer announced a short break, and asked everyone to be kind to their waitresses.
“What are the chances I can convince your boss to kill this story?” he asked.