Dark ambitions, p.26
Dark Ambitions, page 26
“You should have taken a few days off.”
“I’ll think about that after we wrap up this case. You want an update on my meeting with Ellen? That’s why I called last night.”
“I’m all ears.”
She relayed their conversation. “Bottom line, I went expecting her to be a bitter ex, but all she did was sing Weston’s praises. I picked up zero animosity. Just the opposite.”
“Some breakups are amicable.”
“True—but this one was friendly in the extreme. Her feelings toward the man were verging on passionate. And there were strange vibes radiating from her. That’s why I’m sitting outside her condo on surveillance duty as we speak.”
“In this weather?”
“I’m armed with hot chocolate and a plug-in heater that’s doing its best to keep me warm and toasty.”
“Too bad I’m not there. I could find other ways to do that.”
At his husky tone, a delicious tingle ran through her. “Are you flirting with me, Rick Jordan?”
“Guilty as charged. But at this distance, it’s all words. No action.”
“Could I get a sample of that action in person soon?”
“Done. So has anything happened there?”
“No. She’s laying low. I assume her office closed today, along with 95 percent of schools and businesses in the metro area. Doesn’t mean she’s not in touch with Weston, though. I can’t shake the feeling she’s somehow involved in this.”
“How long are you going to watch her?”
“Cal suggested forty-eight hours. One of the guys will spell me later this afternoon. If the surveillance ends up being a bust, I’m going to contact the other two former Weston employees I tracked down and see if they have anything to offer.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I’ll schedule a trip to Lubbock and poke around, talk to Beth’s neighbors. Very few crimes are unsolvable if you ask the right questions and look in the right places.”
“If there’s any evidence to be found, I’m betting you’ll find it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now tell me what’s going on with you.”
“After yesterday afternoon’s flight got scrubbed, I stayed at the hangar to catch up on paperwork. Hence the trek home in the ice. I had a flight scheduled for this morning, but the customers canceled late yesterday after they heard the forecast.”
“Does that mean you have a free day?”
“Maybe not. While we’ve been talking, a call came in from Palmer Aviation. Could be a reschedule from yesterday—or a new job.”
“Can you fly in this?” She inspected the gray sky. The sleet was tapering off, but there was a quarter-inch-thick layer of ice on every exposed surface.
“Yes, as long as no freezing rain or sleet is falling and there’s no forecast for either. I flew in those kinds of conditions on a few occasions in the Middle East when I had no choice, but in general helicopters don’t like ice. How are the roads at the moment?”
“Not great, but the salt trucks made another pass a few minutes ago. If the sleet doesn’t kick in again, the highways should be in better shape in another hour or two. I wouldn’t recommend any long-distance driving until later this afternoon, though.”
“No worries. Any significant miles I log today will be in the air.”
The front door of Ellen’s condo opened, and she picked up her binoculars. “Hold a sec.”
The woman was bundled up head-to-toe with hat, gloves, long coat, and neck warmer. If she hadn’t come out of the front door of her condo, Heather would have been hard-pressed to identify her.
“My subject is on the move. Maybe she’s going in to work after all. I have to run.”
“Be careful.”
“Always. Talk to you soon.”
She waited while Ellen scraped the ice from the window, slid into her car, and backed out—then gave her a lengthy lead before following. In view of the sparse traffic, it wouldn’t be difficult to keep her in sight. Besides, if the woman was going to her office, Heather had already mapped out that route.
But she wasn’t.
While Ellen did get on the highway, she went west instead of east.
Curious.
Heather swung onto the on ramp behind her.
If she wasn’t going to work, what was so important that she felt compelled to venture out on a day most St. Louisans were staying safe and warm at home?
Rick pushed through the door to the business office of Palmer Aviation and greeted the owner’s wife.
“Morning.” Sue Palmer smiled at him from behind her desk in the reception area. “The boss is waiting for you in his office. Sorry about the last-minute call.”
“No problem. I’ll pick up the paperwork on my way out to the hangar.”
“It’s all ready for you.”
Naturally.
Sue was the dynamo who maintained the flying schedules, monitored the maintenance records, did the bookkeeping, answered the phones, greeted customers—and served as all-around girl Friday.
Her husband and business partner would be lost without her.
But Harvey knew helicopters—and he’d still be flying if an eye ailment hadn’t grounded him forever eighteen months ago.
When he reached the office, the man looked up from a desk piled high with stacks of papers, wearing his usual frazzled expression. “Hey, Rick. You got here fast.”
“If departure is at one thirty, I’ll need every minute I have for the preflight check. Is the mechanical inspection finished?”
“Done yesterday. Before the canceled flight.”
“That works. What’s today’s gig?”
“A drop-off in Jeff City. Two passengers. They intended to drive, but had to scrap those plans due to the weather. The tentative booking came in last night. Sounds like they have to be there for a midafternoon meeting at the capitol.”
“Political honchos?”
“Aspiring honchos. Brad Weston, who’s running for governor, and his campaign manager.”
Rick stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” The man peered at him over the top of his glasses. “You know the guy?”
“No.” Regroup, Jordan. “But I’ve heard about him. He has an impressive résumé.”
Harvey shrugged. “You’ve hauled around bigger wigs than him.”
Yes—but none whom he suspected of fraud . . . and murder.
Since Harvey seemed to expect a response, Rick kick-started his brain. “Never anyone with his army background, though. It’s possible we may have mutual acquaintances from our years in the Middle East.”
“I wouldn’t count on him being too chummy. He and his manager will probably be huddled together the whole trip discussing strategy.”
“True. Any special instructions?”
“Just bring my Bell back in one piece. According to the National Weather Service, you’ve got about a five-hour window before another wave of ice hits.”
“I know. I checked. Believe me, I don’t intend to linger. I’m estimating ground time in the five-minute range.”
“If you can stick to that, you’ll be home with a couple hours to spare.”
“That’s the plan. I’ll stop in after I get back.” With a mock salute, he exited the office and pulled out his cell, tapping in Heather’s number as he walked back to the reception area.
She answered on the first ring. “I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon.” The background noise indicated she had him on hands-free.
“I have news. Guess who I’m ferrying to Jeff City in half an hour?”
“A celebrity?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. But he will be if he becomes governor.”
A beat ticked by.
“Brad Weston is your passenger?”
“Him and his campaign manager.”
“What’s the story?”
She listened as he filled her in, waiting until he finished to speak. “What a weird coincidence.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll be curious to hear your impressions.”
“I’ll pass them along later. I was going to suggest dinner, but the meteorologists are predicting another wave of ice tonight.”
“Drat.”
“Is that an expression of displeasure over the return of bad weather or disappointment about dinner?”
“What do you think?”
“I’ll go with the latter. It’s better for my ego.” His lips curved at her snicker. “Any activity at Ellen’s place?”
“Uh-huh. I followed her to a gas station, a drive-through Starbucks, and a strip mall in West County—where we’re now sitting.”
“She hasn’t left her car?”
“Not yet.”
“Odd.”
“Tell me about it. Stay tuned for an update.”
“Be careful.”
“Likewise.”
“Considering the road conditions, I’ll be safer in the air than you are on the ground.”
“I’ll take your word for that. I hate to admit this, but flying has always freaked me out a little.”
“Ever been up in a helicopter?”
“No.”
“Whole different ball game.”
“Yeah—and even scarier. If the rotors give out, or the engine stops, don’t you drop like a rock?”
“No. That’s a common misconception. In general, a well-trained pilot can land a helicopter except in the most catastrophic of conditions.” Like an RPG hitting a Chinook.
He swallowed past the acrid taste on his tongue.
As if she’d read his mind, Heather spoke again, her voice softer and more personal. “For the record, I’d go up with you anytime—and feel totally safe and secure.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He took the paperwork Sue held out as he passed and continued to the hangar. “I have to run, but if Ellen leads you anywhere surprising, text me—although I won’t be responding to messages until I get back here around four.”
“Why don’t you call me once you’re on the ground? Even if I don’t have any news, we can chat.”
“Deal. Talk to you then.”
Rick stowed his cell and picked up a clipboard containing the preflight checklist. After all his years of flying, he could do the routine in his sleep.
But Palmer Aviation prided itself on thoroughness and safety, and no flight left without a written report on file from the mechanic and the pilot. An admirable practice—and one of the reasons he’d agreed to work for them, despite their small size.
He hadn’t lied to Heather. In the hands of an experienced pilot, flying in a well-maintained helicopter was safe. The pilots who got into trouble were often the ones who took chances or got sloppy.
He did neither.
Meaning the short flight to Jeff City and back should be a piece of cake.
Lindsey Weston was a creature of habit.
That had made planning a breeze.
Ellen hunkered down in her car, keeping one eye on the door to the yoga studio while she felt in her pocket again for the subcompact Glock she’d purchased after the divorce. It was small—but adequate for this job.
Not that she planned to use it. The weapon was a bluff. A coercion tactic. But Lindsey didn’t know that. So she’d do what any reasonable person would do if a gun was pointed at them. She’d follow instructions to the letter.
At least she better.
Because pulling the trigger would ruin everything.
Despite the chill in the cold car, Ellen began to sweat. Tremors rippled through her fingers. Panic squeezed her lungs.
No!
A case of nerves could be a disaster.
If she didn’t remain calm and in control, she might blow this.
And she couldn’t let that happen.
Not after all her work and planning.
She groped in another pocket until her fingers closed over the photo of her and Brad she always carried. Pulled it out. Focused on the face of the man she loved with every fiber of her being.
The quality was marginal, since it had been snapped on the fly, but it was the only one she had of them. Brad had never wanted to take any photos, skittish as he was about evidence. But after a few glasses of wine, he’d posed for this selfie the weekend they’d gone to the Ozarks.
Merely looking at the two of them together calmed her. Helped her concentrate on her goal.
Her breathing evened out.
The outcome she wanted wouldn’t be immediate, but once Lindsey was out of the picture, Brad would eventually realize his hasty marriage to a floozy who’d only been after his wealth had been a mistake.
And once that happened, she’d be ready to step back into the role of confidante and lover she’d played during the traumatic early start-up days of his company, when he’d been struggling to get a foothold in the market and cope with the loss of his wife.
He’d loved her back then.
He could love her again.
It might take months for that to happen. Perhaps as long as a year.
But she was a patient woman.
Especially when the payoff would change her whole life—and his—for the better.
Forever.
Yawning, Heather hit a few keys on her laptop and ran the plates from another car parked near Ellen’s. No reason to think any of the empty vehicles were related to the woman’s reason for being here—but you never knew. And it passed the time.
Of course, it was possible Weston’s ex-girlfriend was meeting a friend for lunch at the small café a few storefronts down. Her motivation for sitting in a cold car on a half-empty parking lot might not be in the least nefarious.
Except she’d been here forty-five minutes.
And something still felt out of kilter about the woman.
Heather jotted down the name next to the license plate in her notebook and moved on to the next car—a Mercedes sedan. An S 550 model, unless she was mistaken. Super nice wheels, with a tab of close to a hundred grand. That driver had some—
She froze.
Gaped at the screen.
The car was registered to Lindsey Weston.
That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Heather’s brain shifted into high gear.
Did Ellen and Lindsey know each other?
If so, why were they meeting clandestinely?
Could they somehow be involved in the crimes she was investigating?
Before she could sort through the unexpected development, Lindsey emerged from the yoga studio, gaze fixed on her phone as she strolled toward the Mercedes.
Ellen opened the door of her car.
Heather snatched up her binoculars as the woman got out from behind the wheel and walked toward Weston’s wife.
The columns on the arcade of the upscale mall interfered with her line of sight, but if luck was with her the two women would meet in an open area that would allow her to observe their exchange.
And depending on what happened next, she might have to place a call to Cal and alert him to stand by in case she needed more eyes on this job.
24
It had been an excellent yoga class.
Not to mention a much-needed hour and a half of chilling out after the adrenaline-pumping call she’d received a few minutes before it started.
Lindsey filled her lungs with the cold air. Exhaled.
Today was the day.
Yes!
Soon life should begin to settle down.
She walked toward her car, scrolling through her messages. The follow-ups from the committee meeting at the hotel yesterday could wait. The one from Chuck was probably about travel plans for Friday. She could read that after she got in the car.
The two from Brad had top priority.
Her finger hovered over the first one, a smile curving her lips. How her world had changed the day he’d wandered into the bar where she was singing. Overnight she’d gone from a lonely, eking-out-a-living existence to a loving relationship and a life of luxury.
And once he was elected governor . . . once he had exposure on the national stage . . . it wouldn’t take long for the party powers-that-be to realize Brad Weston had tremendous potential. That there was no office too high for him to—
“Hello, Lindsey.”
She looked up.
The woman who’d greeted her stood six feet away, bundled up for arctic weather even though it wasn’t that cold outside.
And why was she wearing sunglasses on such a gray day?
She squinted, but it was difficult to get a read on her identity with most of her face covered. The voice wasn’t familiar, either.
“I’m sorry . . . do we know each other?”
“You’ve never met me—but I know all about you.” The woman moved closer.
Too close.
Lindsey retreated a step.
The woman kept coming.
A ripple of unease skittered through her.
“Excuse me.” She tried to edge around the stranger.
“Don’t be in such a rush to end our conversation.” She shifted her muffler to reveal a small pistol.
Lindsey’s breath hitched. “What . . . what do you want?”
“I want you to take a little trip with me.”
“Where?”
“You’ll find out soon.”
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Ellen.”
The name meant nothing to her.
“Look . . . if you want money, you can have my purse. And my jewelry.” She had to stall until someone left the studio—or exited one of the stores—and saw she was in trouble.
Except class attendance had been sparse, and half of the businesses in the mall were closed because of the ice storm.
“I don’t want your money. Let’s go.” The woman nodded toward the Mercedes, a few yards away.
Lindsey’s stomach clenched.
Getting in her car with this crazy person would be a mistake.
But if she didn’t comply, the woman might shoot her here on the sidewalk.
“It doesn’t matter to me when you die. If you want to end it here, that’s fine.” Ellen’s tone was matter-of-fact. Unemotional.
Yet the words sent a chill through Lindsey.
She’d said when you die, not if you die.
This woman was planning to kill her—either now or later.
