Hot Rocks by Nora Roberts
She heard the bells ring. “I’ll take this one.”
“All yours.” Jenny lifted her brows as she glanced at the new customer. “Little old for that look,” she said under her breath, and moved on.
Laine fixed on her welcome face and crossed over to greet Crew. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”
“I’m sure you can.” From his previous visits to her store, he knew the arrangements and exactly where he wanted her. “I’m interested in kitchen equipment. Butter crocks, specifically. My sister collects.”
“Then she’s in luck. We have some very nice ones just now. Why don’t I show you?”
“Please.”
He followed her through the main room, into the area she’d set up for kitchen equipment, furnishings and novelties. As they passed the door to the back room, Henry began to growl.
“You have a dog in here?”
“Yes.” Puzzled, Laine looked toward the door. She’d never known Henry to growl at store sounds and voices. “He’s harmless and he’s secured in the back room. I needed to bring him in with me today.” Because she sensed her customer’s annoyance, she took his arm and led him to the crocks.
“The Caledonian’s especially nice, I think, for a collector.”
“Mmm.” There were two customers and the pregnant clerk. As the customers were at the counter, he assumed they were paying for purchases. “I don’t know anything about it, really. What in the world is this?”
“It’s a Victorian coal box, brass. If she enjoys antique and unique kitchen items, this is a winner.”
“Could be.” He slipped the .22 out of his belt and jammed the barrel into her side. “Be very, very quiet. If you scream, if you make any move at all, I’ll kill everyone in this shop, beginning with you. Understand?”
The heat of panic washed over her, then chilled to ice as she heard Jenny laugh. “Yes.”
“Do you know who I am, Ms. Tavish?”
“Yes.”
“Good, that spares us introductions. You’re going to make an excuse to walk out with me.” He’d planned to take her out the back, but the damned dog made that impossible. “To give me directions, we’ll say, to walk me to the corner. If you alert or alarm anyone, I’ll kill you.”
“If you kill me, you won’t get the diamonds back.”
“How fond are you of your very pregnant employee?”
Nausea rolled up her throat. “Very fond. I’ll go with you. I won’t give you any trouble.”
“Sensible.” He slipped the gun in his pocket, kept his hand on it. “I need to get to the post office,” he said, lifting his voice to a normal tone. “Can you tell me where it is?”
“Of course. Actually, I need some stamps. Why don’t I take you over?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
She turned, ordered her legs to move. She couldn’t feel them, but she saw Jenny, saw her glance up, smile.
“I’m just going to run to the post office. Just be a minute.”
“Okay. Hey, why don’t you take Henry?” Jenny motioned toward the back where the growls grew louder and were punctuated by desperate barks.
“No.” She reached out blindly for the doorknob, snatched her hand back when it bumped Crew’s. “He’ll just fight the leash.”
“Yeah, but . . .” She frowned as Laine walked out without another word. “Funny, she . . . oh, she forgot her purse. Excuse me just a minute.”
Jenny grabbed it from under the counter and was halfway to the door when she stopped, glanced back at her customers. “Did she say she was going to buy stamps? The post office closed at four.”
“So, she forgot. Miss?” The woman gestured toward her purchases.
“She never forgets.” Gripping the purse, Jenny bolted for the door, pressing a hand to her belly as she dashed onto the sidewalk. She saw Laine’s arm gripped in the man’s hand as they turned the corner away from the post office.
“Oh God, oh my God.” She rushed back in, all but knocking her customers aside as she snatched up the phone and speed-dialed Vince’s direct line.
CHAPTER 15
It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, a middle-class bull’s-eye with well-kept lawns and big leafy trees so old their roots had heaved up through portions of the sidewalks. Most driveways boasted SUVs, the suburbanites’ transportation of choice. Many had car seats, and there were enough bikes and clunky secondhanders to tell Max the age of kids in the neighborhood ranged from babies to teens.
The house was an attractive two-story English Tudor with a pretty blanket of lawn decorated with sedate flower beds and neatly trimmed shrubs. And a SOLD sign.
Max didn’t need the Realtor’s sign to tell him the place was empty. There were no curtains at the windows, no cars in the drive, no debris a young boy might leave in his wake.
“Skipped,” Jack said.
“Gee, Jack, thanks for the bulletin.”
“Guess it’s irksome to come all this way and hit a dead end.”
“There are no dead ends, just detours.”
“Nice philosophy, son.”
Max stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels. “Irksome?” he repeated, and Jack just grinned. “Neighborhood like this has to have at least one nosy neighbor. Let’s knock on doors, Jack.”
“What’s the line?”
“I don’t need a line. I’ve got an investigator’s license.”
Jack nodded as they started toward the house on the left. “People in this kind of place like talking to PIs. Adds excitement to the day. But I don’t think you’re going to tell Nosy Alice you’re looking for a lead on twenty-eight mill in stolen diamonds.”
“I’m trying to locate Laura Gregory—that’s the name she’s using here—and verify if she is the Laura Gregory who’s a beneficiary in a will. Details are confidential.”
“Good one. Simple and clean. People like wills, too. Free money.” Jack fussed with the knot of his tie. “How do I look?”
“You’re a fine-looking man, Jack, but I still don’t want to date you.”
“Ha!” He gave Max a slap on the back. “I like you, Max, damned if I don’t.”
“Thanks. Now just keep quiet and let me handle this.”
They were still several paces from the door of a modified split-level when it opened. The woman who stepped out was in her middle thirties and wearing a faded sweatshirt over faded jeans. The anthemlike theme music from Star Wars poured out the door behind her.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Max reached for his ID. “I’m Max Gannon, a private investigator. I’m looking for Laura Gregory.”
She looked hard at the identification, with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “Oh?”
“It’s nothing untoward, Mrs. . . .”
“Gates. Hayley Gates.”
“Mrs. Gates. I’ve been hired to locate Ms. Gregory and verify that she’s the Laura Gregory named as a beneficiary in a will.”
“Oh,” she repeated as the glimmer spread to a sparkle.
“My associate and I . . . I’m Bill Sullivan, by the way.” To Max’s annoyance, Jack stepped forward, took Mrs. Gates’s hand and pumped it heartily. “We were hoping to speak to Mrs. Gregory personally to verify that she is indeed the grandniece of the late Spiro Hanroe. There was a bit of a family schism in the previous generation, and several of the family members, including Mrs. Gregory’s parents, broke contact.” He lifted his hands in a shrug. “Families. What can you do?”
“I know just what you mean. Excuse me just a minute.” She stuck her head back in the door. “Matthew? I’m right outside. My oldest is home sick,” she explained as she eased the door closed but for a crack. “I’d ask you in, but it’s a madhouse in there. You can see Laura sold the house.” She gestured toward the house next door. “Put it on the market about a month ago—rock-bottom price, too. My sister’s the realtor who listed it. Laura wanted to sell it fast, and the fact is, she moved even before it sold. She was planting her summer an
“That’s odd, isn’t it?” Max commented. “She mention why?”
“Well, she said her mother in Florida was ill, seriously ill, and she was moving down there to take care of her. She lived next door for three years, and I don’t remember her ever mentioning her mother. Her son and my oldest played together. He’s a sweet boy, her Nate. Quiet. They were both quiet. It was nice for my Matt to have a friend next door, and Laura was easy to get along with. I always thought she came from money though.”
“Did you?”
“Just a feeling. And she worked part-time at an upscale gift shop at the mall. She couldn’t have afforded the house, the car, the lifestyle, if you know what I mean, on her salary. She told me she came into an inheritance. It’s funny she came into two, isn’t it?”
“Did she tell you where in Florida?”
“No. Just Florida, and she was in a tearing hurry to get going. Sold or gave away a lot of her things, and Nate’s, too. Packed up her car and zipped. She left . . . I guess it’s three weeks ago. Little better than that. She said she’d call when she was settled, but she hasn’t. It was almost like she was running away.”
“From?”
“I always—” She cut herself off, eyed them both a bit more cautiously. “Are you sure she’s not in trouble?”
“Not with us.” Max sent out a brilliant smile before Jack could speak. “We’re just paid by the Hanroe estate to find the beneficiaries and confirm identification. Do you think she’s in trouble?”
“I can’t imagine how, really. But I always figured a man—ex-husband—somewhere in the background, you know? She never dated. Not once since she’s been here. And Laura never talked about Nate’s father. Neither did Nate. But, the night before she listed the house, I saw a guy come by. Drove up in a Lexus, and he was carrying a box. All wrapped up with a bow, like a birthday present, but it wasn’t Nate’s birthday, or Laura’s either, for that matter. He only stayed about twenty minutes. Next morning, she called my sister and put the house on the market, quit her job, and now that I think about it, she kept Nate home from school for the next week.”
“Did she tell you who her visitor was?” Jack made the question conversational, as if they were all out here enjoying the spring weather and shooting the breeze. “You must’ve asked. Anybody’d be curious.”
“Not really. I mean, yes, I mentioned I’d seen the car. She just said it was someone she used to know and clammed up. But I think it was the ex, and she totally freaked. You don’t just sell your house and your furniture and drive off that way because your mother’s sick. Hey, maybe he heard about this inheritance and was trying to wheedle his way back so he could cash in. People can be so low, you know?”
“They certainly can. Thanks, Mrs. Gates.” Max offered a hand. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“If you find her, tell her I’d really like her to call. Matt misses Nate something fierce.”
“We’ll do that.”
“He got to her,” Jack said as they started back to the rental car.
“Oh yeah, and I don’t think there was a birthday present in the pretty box. She’s running.” He glanced back at the empty house. “Running from him, running with the diamonds, or both?”
“Woman runs like that’s scared,” was Jack’s opinion. “Odds are even if he dumped the diamonds on her for safekeeping, she doesn’t even know she’s got them. Crew’s not a man to trust anybody, especially an ex-wife. That’s my take on it. So . . . are we going to Florida to work on our tans?”
“She’s not in Florida, and we’re going back to Maryland. I’ll pick up her trail, but I’ve got a date with a beautiful redhead.”
“You’ll drive.” Crew shifted the gun from Laine’s kidney to the base of her spine. “I’m afraid you’ll have to climb over. Do it quickly, Ms. Tavish.”
She could scream, she could run. She could die. Would die, she corrected as she lowered herself into the passenger seat, maneuvered over the center console. Since she wasn’t willing to die, she’d have to wait for a reasonable chance of escape.
“Seat belt,” Crew reminded her.
As she drew it around to secure, she felt the lump of her cell phone in her left pocket. “I’ll need the keys.”
“Of course. Now, I’m going to warn you once, only once. You’ll drive normally and carefully, you’ll obey the traffic laws. If you make any attempt to draw attention, I’ll shoot you.” He handed her the keys. “Trust me on that.”
“I do.”
“Then let’s get started. Head out of town and take Sixty-eight East.” He shifted his body so she could see the gun. “I don’t like to be driven, but we’ll make an exception. You should be grateful to your dog. If he hadn’t been in the back, we’d have gone out that way and you’d be taking this ride in the trunk.”
God bless you, Henry. “I prefer this position.” As she drove she considered, and rejected, the idea of flooring the gas or trying to whip the wheel. Maybe, just maybe, that kind of heroic action worked in the movies, but movie bullets were blanks.
What she needed to do was somehow leave a trail. And stay alive long enough for someone to follow it. “Were you what scared Willy into running into the street?”
“One of those twists of fate or timing or just bad luck. Where are the diamonds?”
“This conversation, and my existence, would both be over very quickly if I told you.”
“At least you’re bright enough not to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“What would be the point?” She flicked a glance at the rearview mirror, let her eyes widen, then slid her eyes toward it again. It was enough to have him turning his head, looking behind. And when he did, she dipped her hand in her pocket, played her fingers over the buttons, praying she was counting correctly, and hit what she hoped was Redial.
“Eyes on the road,” he snapped.
She gripped the wheel with both hands, squeezed once and thought, Answer the phone, Max, answer the phone and listen. “Where are we going, Mr. Crew?”
“Just drive.”
“Sixty-eight East is a long road. Are you adding interstate abduction to your list?”
“It would hardly make the top of it.”
“I guess you’re right. I’d drive better if you weren’t pointing that gun at me.”
“The better you drive, the less chance there is it will go off and put an ugly hole in your very pretty skin. True redheads—as I assume you are, given your father—have such delicate skin.”
She didn’t want him thinking about her skin or putting holes in it. “Jenny’s going to send out an alarm when I don’t come back.”
“It’ll be too late to make any difference. Stay at the speed limit.”
She sped up until she hit sixty-five. “Nice pickup. I’ve never driven a Mercedes. It’s heavy.” She ran a hand over her throat as if nervous and babbling. “Smooth though. Looks like a diplomat’s car or something. You know, black Mercedes sedan.”
“You won’t distract me with small talk.”
“I’m trying to distract myself, if you don’t mind. It’s the first time I’ve been kidnapped at gunpoint. You broke into my house.”
“And if I’d found my property, we wouldn’t be taking this little trip together.”
“You made a hell of a mess.”
“I didn’t have the luxury of time.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to point out that you already have half the take when the deal was a quarter? And to say that once you get past, oh, say, ten million, the rest is superfluous.”
“No, it wouldn’t. You’ll take the next exit.”
“Three twenty-six?”
“South, to One forty-four East.”
“All right. All right. Three twenty-six South to One forty-four East.” She glanced over. “You don’t look like the sort of man to spend much time in state forests. We’re not going camping, are we?”
“You and y