The dirt driveway kicked up a cloud of dust as Reynolds brought his cruiser to a halt. Two troopers were waiting on the small front porch as the captain and Sandor got out of the car.
“This is Sandor,” the captain said. “Guy that helped Jack.”
The officers said hello, then offered their thanks.
“So, what have we got here?” Jordan asked.
Neither of the troopers replied.
“Let’s have a look,” Reynolds said as he led him into the house. The two officers remained on guard at the door.
Dusk was replacing day, and there wasn’t much in the way of lighting in the main room. All the same, Jordan made out the scene immediately. Ryan’s body had been removed hours ago, but the chair was there, as were the fragments of rope that had bound Ryan to the wooden seat. Splotches of dried blood stained an oval loom rug.
“Nice, eh?”
Jordan nodded. “I guess you got photos of all this. Before they took him out, I mean.”
The captain responded with a withering look, and Sandor was reminded again of what sort of commanding officer Reynolds must have been.
“Sorry,” Jordan said politely. “Of course, you did.”
“Several rolls of film, a videotape, and a hundred digital images, if you care to know.”
“Right.”
Sandor and Reynolds slowly circled the chair in which Ryan had died, viewing the scene from all angles, each of them envisioning what had happened there.
“No sign of forced entry,” Reynolds told him, “but around here, who locks the door? Even so, I get the feeling he knew these guys. No sign of a struggle, no overturned tables, no nothing.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, they might have walked in, guns drawn, taken him before he had a chance to react.”
Reynolds grunted. “Main question is, What was the point? Look at this place.” He extended his arm like he was displaying the third-place prize on a game show. “What the hell would they possibly want? And no sign that the place was searched. Unless he had the Hope Diamond sitting on the table there, what would they be looking for?”
“Information,” Jordan said.
The two men stared at each other for a moment.
“Only thing that makes sense,” Sandor said.
Reynolds nodded. “They certainly beat the hell out of the poor bastard, that much is obvious.”
“Rule out sodium pentathol.”
“What’s that?”
“Some of the guys talking about the autopsy.”
“Yeah,” Reynolds agreed. “You don’t pump a guy full of truth serum and then beat the hell out of him.”
“My thought exactly. Coroner will tell that tale.”
“So, not much to see, right?”
Jordan moved slowly around the small area that encompassed most of the modest house, the living room, dining table and the entry to the kitchen. “I assume your men have searched the place,” he said over his shoulder.
“Thoroughly.”
“Find anything interesting?” he asked as he took it all in, looking for something that might be out of place.
“Nothing,” the captain said. “Except one item we thought was odd.”
Sandor turned towards him. “I’m all ears.”
“This off the record?” Reynolds asked with a wry smile.
“Only if you insist.”
The captain came toward him. They were standing face to face at the doorway to the small kitchen. “One of those electronic tickets,” he said in a quiet voice, “the kind you get off a computer. Hidden in his dresser. Plane ticket to Paris.”
“As in France?”
“Strange thing. For a guy living in this kind of a shack, I mean. First class ticket, leaving tomorrow. And a hotel reservation.”
“Going back,” Jordan said to himself.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. So you tracked it down?”
“We did. The ticket was booked in the name of James McHugh. Hotel reservation also in the name of James McHugh.”
“McHugh? And you ran his prints through—”
“The federal databank. Yeah.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Our friend Jimmy Ryan was actually one James McHugh.”
Sandor did not appear surprised, a fact not lost on Reynolds. “I can tell by the look in your eyes it gets better than that, Captain.”
Reynolds nodded. “McHugh was ex-military. His service record looked a lot like yours.”
“Meaning?”
“Name, rank, and social security number. Did his duty and puff. Finished business. Guy no longer exists after that.”
“Uh huh. So we’re not talking about a robbery here.”
“Not even close.” Reynolds hesitated. “And something tells me you knew that before we walked in.”
Sandor gave no answer to that. “And when you brought McHugh’s name up on the computer?”
“I’m sure all the bells and whistles were going off down in Washington.”
“Agreed.”
The two troopers at the door were straining to hear the discussion, but missing most of it as Sandor and Reynolds became quieter with each exchange.
“I imagine the feds’ll be coming in on this in no time,” Jordan said.
“I believe that’s affirmative,” the captain said. “So what say we cut the crap and you tell me what you know about all this?”
Jordan shook his head. “No more than you do.”
The captain leaned even closer now. “That’s not good enough, son. I’ve been up front with you. Now why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?”
“Like what?”
“Look, I got one man in the morgue, two men in the hospital, and by some incredible coincidence you and the dead man turn out to be some kind of former spooks — all this in a town where six speeding tickets in a week is a crime wave.”
“What a mess,” Jordan said, doing his best to sound sympathetic.
“That’s it? I give you everything I got before the feds show, and all I get from you is ‘what a mess’?”
Sandor stared at him without speaking.
“You said something about him going back. What makes you think this guy was ever in France? You told me you never met him.”
“And I never did. But I also never said I didn’t know anything about him.”
“Which makes you better informed than I am right now.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult, Captain. There are some things I have to do first.”
“Me too, like investigating a murder and two attempts.”
“Give me a little time and—”
“I don’t have time, Sandor.” Reynolds stared into Jordan’s eyes, the younger man’s unblinking gaze a match for his own. “Something tells me you’re gonna need a friend around here pretty soon. You took care of Jack and so you’re entitled to something for that, but don’t count on it for too much. I can get unfriendly real fast. I think you’re jerking me around.”
“All right,” Jordan said. “Let me sort some of this out, then I’ll get back to you.”
“You’ll get back to me? That’s not good enough, Sandor.”
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
Reynolds lifted his trooper’s hat and passed his hand over his thinning scalp. “You’re not making it easy.”
“I understand, Captain.”
“All right,” Reynolds said with a rueful expression, “but as far as I’m concerned, you’re on a short timeline.”
Jordan nodded, then looked around the room again as if he might have missed something. “What did you say the name of that hotel in Paris was?”
Reynolds smiled. “I didn’t say.” He pulled a note pad from his pocket. “It’s called… the Pas de Tour,” he said, butchering the pronunciation so badly that he had to spell it out. “Mean anything to you?”