“No!”
Stride waited, letting the angry flush fade from the man’s pale face. Then he continued. “You were under surveillance for several days before the abduction. We found a hidden camera in your living room.”
“A camera? They were watching us?”
“Yes. That way, the kidnappers knew when Chelsey was alone. They knew when you got back from Rice Lake. They were probably also making sure you didn’t call the police after they made the ransom demand.”
Gavin shook his head. “Bastards.”
“The camera was planted last Thursday. Did you have anyone inside your house that day? Clients? Workers?”
The lawyer took his phone and checked his calendar. “No.”
“Were you home?”
“During the day, yes, but not in the evening. We had a dinner with one of Chelsey’s marketing clients.”
Stride reached into the pocket of his sport coat and drew out a piece of paper. It was an excerpt from Gavin’s cell-phone records. “That same evening, you got a two-minute call on your cell phone. What was that call about?”
“I have no idea. I receive dozens of calls every day.”
“The phone that called you is the same phone that was used to let you know that Chelsey had been kidnapped.”
Gavin’s surprise looked genuine. “Seriously? Is that true?”
He examined the page that Stride had put on the table and noted the yellow highlight on the two calls.
“I swear, I had no idea.”
“What was that call about?”
Gavin rubbed his hands over his face and made a show of trying to think. “I don’t remember. It was probably just a wrong number.”
“For two minutes?”
“I don’t know. Or maybe it was a cold call from a potential client. I get those all the time. People ask for information, I tell them to make an appointment.”
“Are you the only one who answers your phone?”
“Yes.”
“So you talked to the person who called?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Was the person male? Female?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t remember the call!”
“It’s interesting that this call was made on the same day that the kidnappers planted the surveillance camera in your house.”
“So what? Maybe they wanted to make sure I wasn’t home before they broke in.”
“Or you were telling them the coast was clear,” Stride said.
Gavin inhaled sharply, as if ready to explode again. Then he closed his eyes and calmed himself. When he reopened his eyes, he slid back the chair and stood up. He spoke in a low, firm voice. “That’s it. We’re done. I’m not answering any more questions.”
“Okay.”
“You can show yourself out.”
Gavin slid open the sliding glass door and went inside, leaving Stride alone on the deck. The lawyer left his mug of coffee behind.
For a show of outraged innocence, it was convincing. Stride was almost ready to believe him. Then again, he had learned long ago that all lawyers were actors at heart. Storytellers. And whoever told the best story usually won.
Rex Samuels pulled his tow truck into the crowded Saturday parking lot at the Pike Lake Golf Course. Pontoons and paddleboats dotted the nearby lake, and golfers lined up putts on the greens of the flat nine-hole course. It didn’t take him long to spot the car he was looking for. The blue Subaru WRX was parked not far from the lakeshore and close to a lineup of golf carts. The owner leaned against it, scrolling through his phone. The man glanced up and shot him a wave when he saw Rex’s truck arriving. The Subaru had a slight lean to it, thanks to the driver’s front side tire, which was dead flat.
“You’re a lifesaver,” the man said when Rex pulled up next to him and hopped down from the truck.
Rex shrugged. “No problem. You got no spare, huh?”
“Guess not. I bought the car used a few months ago, didn’t even check whether the spare was in there.”
“Well, I’ll get you sorted out,” Rex told him. “I brought two tires with me. Lotta people, they replace the tire on the other side, too, so they both wear the same. But it’s up to you.”
The man shrugged. “You’re here. Might as well do them both. Cash okay?”
Rex grunted his approval.
He wasn’t surprised that the man didn’t ask about the price. And he wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t checked his car for a spare, either. The Subaru driver was tall, in his thirties, with a cool car, cool haircut, cool clothes, and a cool phone. He probably didn’t know how to change a tire. People didn’t know how to do the stuff that mattered anymore. If you could pay cash for new tires without asking the price, well, you had too much money.
Having too much money had never been a problem for Rex, but he didn’t complain. He’d worked behind the wheel of a tow truck since he was nineteen, pulling cars from accident scenes, yanking repos, jump-starting batteries when it was twenty below zero, and changing tires for people who didn’t know how to change tires. Now he was almost fifty. He had what his wife called a Budweiser belly and a Bigfoot beard. All the matted brown hair on his chin compensated for having almost no hair left up top.
“This’ll take a few minutes,” Rex said.
The man whipped a hand through his slicked-back brown hair. “Take your time, man. I’m in no hurry.”
Rex got started. The afternoon sun was warm on his shoulders as he jacked up the Subaru and attacked the lug nuts on the first tire. They were tight, and he had to lean his weight into the wrench to make them turn. The driver stood so close that he practically cast a shadow over Rex, but he was focused on his phone and not on the work being done to the tire.
“How about this kidnapping thing?” the man said. “That’s crazy, right?”
Rex gave a grunt, and his muscles rippled. “Huh?”
“You know, the lawyer whose wife got abducted? What do you think, did he do it? That’s what everybody’s saying.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rex replied.
“Seriously? It’s all over the news.”
“I don’t watch the news.”
“Oh. Well, I can’t blame you for that. It’s mostly shit lately.”
“Shit all the time,” Rex said.
He got the first tire off, and he rolled the new one over and had it attached in a few minutes. He lowered the car, then got ready to do the second tire. He went around to the opposite side, and the owner followed, as if Rex couldn’t be trusted to do the job alone.
“Guy looks guilty to me,” the man went on.
“Who?”
“This lawyer.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, look at those eyes. Creepy, huh?”
The man held his phone in front of Rex’s face. Rex had no choice but to stare at the screen, where he saw a photograph of a man with curly blond hair, a narrow pale face, and blue eyes that looked like something out of a zombie movie.
“Creepy,” Rex had to agree.
He focused on the lug nuts again, which were just as tight on this side of the Subaru. He sweated as he worked and found that he had to use his boot on the wrench to get extra leverage. Finally, he got the first nut off. The others usually came faster. He repositioned the wrench, but he found that he was distracted, and he wasn’t really sure why.
Then he realized that the photograph of the lawyer kept hanging in his mind. The hair. The blank expression. And yeah, especially those eyes.
“Can I see that guy again?” Rex asked.
The driver glanced down at him. “Who, the lawyer? Sure.”
He put the phone back in front of Rex’s face, and Rex let go of the wrench and squinted at the picture. He got so close to it that his nose practically brushed the screen.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Rex said.
“What do you mean? That’s who?”
“I did a job for that guy last weekend.”