Find Me, page 8
“She’s an artist and actually acquired some of the masterpieces hanging on his upstairs walls, but I don’t expect to see her around much longer. She’s getting to that age, if you know what I mean.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Lorenzo liked his women young. She looked up to the third floor where he’d been standing. He was gone, which meant it was time for her to get busy.
She couldn’t politely detach from Carlos who directed her toward a maroon sofa where his uncle sat like a king waiting for the peasants to come forward and kiss his ring. Nolan Zapata twirled a flute of champagne between his bejeweled fingers. The only other time she’d seen him was that first casual meeting, and Angie was impressed with how well Zapata cleaned up. His thick black hair was combed back from his forehead, and he was so clean-shaven that his jaw gleamed like marble. He wore a silver brocade jacket with tuxedo trousers. Graciously, he rose to greet her.
“Congratulations on your birthday,” she said.
“Thank you for the gift. I assume you’re part of the group from Nick’s who chipped in to buy me that trim little motorboat.”
“That would be a rational assumption.” She had not contributed. “Have you had a chance to look over my suggestions on how we can change the off-track betting operation?”
“No talk of business tonight,” he said. “I’ll look at your numbers on Saturday of next week as we agreed.”
She knew her first ten days would be successful. With help from the forensic accounting department at the FBI, she had perfected a computer program that upped the profits. All she really had to do was install the new algorithms and let them run.
“Carlos has been showing me around,” she said. “I didn’t realize that you two were related. Is your whole family from Denver?”
“We come from a small town in New Mexico by the name of Ojos Caliente.”
“Hot eyes,” she translated.
He lowered himself onto the sofa and patted the space beside him, indicating that she should sit. His hard-edged gaze sliced through her like a blade. “I heard you were taking riding lessons from Waylon,” he said.
“I thought learning about horses would help me with the off-track betting. I’m not really fond of barnyard animals.”
“Racehorses aren’t like the old gray mare in the barn,” he said. “Those animals are Thoroughbreds, worth more than most people.”
Spoken like a man who was about to embark on a human trafficking scheme. She suspected Zapata knew all about the attack on Waylon, and she carefully eased into the topic. “Poor Waylon got into a scuffle the other day,”
“Who was he fighting with?”
“I have no idea.” She lied easily. “Julian said he’d take care of it.”
“And I’m sure he will,” Zapata said.
Digging for information, she asked, “How many of the employees at Nick’s report to you?”
“A few.” He brushed off her question.
“What about security men and women?”
“Excuse me, Angie.”
Abruptly, he stood, which indicated that their conversation was over. Uncle Nolan wasn’t anywhere near as chatty as Carlos. She’d only known him for a few days but was fairly sure that she had the rough outline of his profile figured out. Zapata wasn’t a friendly boss, beloved by his employees. More like a stern, angry father, he laid down ironclad rules and meted out harsh punishment for failure. Her best bet was to keep her distance and stay on his good side.
She worked her way across the first floor toward the staircase. On the second floor, she saw that Leif Farnsworth had joined Tamara. The gang of adoring Bronco fans who always seemed to be following him were getting in the way of his conversation with the lady in red.
Angie ascended a staircase that followed a twisting acrylic path similar to the disappearing stairs in an Escher lithograph. With all this glass and plastic, she felt like she was wandering in circles. On the third floor where she’d seen Lorenzo looking down, there were fewer people. To her right, she saw the artwork. To her left, there was a subtle door that blended into the decor. She knew that plain entrance would lead to the bedrooms and offices.
Though she could have used her ornate hair decoration to pick the locks, she’d rather not if it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t. The handle turned easily in her grasp, and she slipped inside a well-lit corridor with doors on either side. According to her blueprints, there weren’t supposed to be surveillance cameras down this hallway, but she didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. As long as she didn’t break into a room, she could claim that she’d been looking for a bathroom.
At the end of the hallway, the door was opened a crack. Angie pushed the door with her shoulder and entered an opulent bedroom. This might be a good time to back out, but she’d come this far. She saw a small desk with a laptop that might be Lorenzo’s private computer. The information she needed might be on that very hard drive...or not.
Angie cleared her throat. “Hello? Is anybody here?”
She heard a rustling on the far side of the room. A floor-to-ceiling window slid open and a woman stepped inside. As she stared at Angie, she didn’t seem frightened, merely curious.
“I knew it,” she said. “I knew someday we’d be back together.”
“Marigold. It’s you.”
In that moment, everything changed.
JULIAN CREPT DOWN the hallway to the bedroom at the end. He hadn’t intended to spy on Angie, but he was curious about why she moved through the crowd at the party, avoiding conversation and ignoring the lavish buffet. Her attention focused on the staircase leading to the third floor. When she ducked into the door to the private quarters, he followed. Finally, he might be able to figure out what kind of game she was playing.
From the first time he gazed into her dark, beautiful eyes, he’d suspected that she had some kind of secret agenda. With all her criminal connections and computer training, she might be part of an extortion or money laundering scheme. He doubted that she knew about the possibility of human trafficking; smuggling and transportation weren’t in her wheelhouse. When she entered Lorenzo’s bedroom, he moved close to the door so he could overhear what Angie was saying. The other woman in the room had to be Marion, Lorenzo’s long-term mistress. No matter how many others came and went, Lorenzo kept contact with her. Marion was special to him.
Why did the two women keep saying “Marigold”? One of them was crying.
From behind his back, he heard the door to the corridor click and open. He pivoted and saw Lorenzo. The boss wasn’t going to be happy about having Angie break into his private quarters. She could get fired...or worse. Julian had a better chance of survival. He was also annoyed by the way Lorenzo had ignored his calls and texts.
Before Lorenzo could speak, Julian confronted him. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past couple of days.”
“Congratulations,” Lorenzo said with an expansive gesture that displayed the tailored cut of his burgundy jacket. “You’ve caught up with me.”
“Waylon was assaulted. I reviewed the feed from the surveillance cameras and saw his attacker sneaking around outside the barn, the garage and the bunkhouse.”
“So what?” Lorenzo dusted his manicured hands as through he was disposing of the problem. “Waylon must have gotten protective about the barn and tried to chase the intruder away. The old cowboy isn’t as tough as he used to be.”
“I’d tend to agree with you.” It was never smart to directly contradict the boss. “I’d almost decided this was nothing to worry about, but then I saw the guy here at your house, mingling with your guests as though he had every right to be here.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like what he’d heard. “You’re mistaken.”
“Not likely. This guy has a distinctive scar on his forehead. When I approached him, he took off running.”
“Did he get away from you?”
“He went into the national forest.” The slimeball had planned his escape from the start. After crashing through the trees, Julian and Leif had discovered a stack of branches that had probably been used to hide a dirt bike or an ATV. There were also tire tracks. The final touch was the baseball cap he’d been wearing. Julian took the cap with a Nick’s Burlesque logo from his pocket. “He left this behind.”
Lorenzo snatched the cap, stared at the logo and threw it on the floor. “Son of a bitch.”
“The guy is bad news,” Julian said. “The way I figure, he’s working for you or working for your enemies.”
“He was so stupid that he got picked up by the cameras. Then he called attention to himself by getting into a brawl. How can this jackass be working for me?” Agitated, he raked his fingers through his silver hair. “I don’t recognize him.”
It had long been Julian’s opinion that Lorenzo wasn’t an effective manager. His success was based on two factors. Number one: he had a nose for sniffing out talented employees and didn’t mind paying them what they were worth. Number two: he frequently came up with decent ideas for improvements.
However, when it came to the day-to-day grind of running the operation, Lorenzo checked out. As soon as he’d put Julian in charge of Nick’s, he’d stepped aside. If he was, in fact, starting up a human trafficking operation, Lorenzo would pass the major responsibility to somebody else, probably Zapata.
“He might be a new employee,” Julian said. “You can’t be expected to know everybody who works for you.”
“True.” Lorenzo paced down the corridor and back. “I’ll talk to Nolan. He keeps track of new hires.”
“Is there some new project you’re working on?”
“Don’t worry about it, Professor.”
Julian pressed his point. “The guy with the scar was creeping around by the barn. Anything going on out there? Was he looking for something?”
“Hell if I know.”
Julian shifted gears. “He also threatened one of the performers at the Burlesque.”
“Which one?”
“Calamity Jane.”
“The cowgirl with the whips and knives?” He barked a laugh. “She can handle a threat.”
“If there’s a new project at Nick’s, I need to know.” Changing direction again, Julian used an aggressive tone. “You’ve got to tell me so I can be prepared.”
They faced off. Julian wasn’t going to back down. If Lorenzo was going to jump into the dark, cruel world of trafficking and slavery, Julian couldn’t stand by and let it happen. There were steps to be taken.
“Next week,” Lorenzo said. “Zapata will fill you in.”
Or kick me out.
The bedroom door swept open and Marion stepped through. Her ice-blue outfit sparkled with crystals, and her wavy blond hair cascaded down her back. She gave Lorenzo a peck on the cheek and then wiped off the imprint of her lipstick.
“Nice to see you, Julian.” She smiled at him then turned back to Lorenzo. “We need to get downstairs. It’s time to cut the cake.”
“They can wait.” His arm snaked around her waist, and he pulled her close against him.
“But it’s time. I don’t want Zapata to feel like we’re disrespecting him on his birthday. He might get hungry and bite my head off.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Lorenzo said. “By the way, Julian, nice job on the motorboat birthday present.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Julian followed them down the corridor. With every step, he tried to think of a reason to go into the bedroom and check on Angie. Leaving her here alone worried him. Not only did he want to be sure she got away safely but he was also curious about her connection.
At the door leaving the corridor, the lovely Marion turned to him. “I’ve forgotten my phone. Would you go back to the bedroom and get it for me?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks so much. We’ll see you downstairs.”
She’d given him an excuse to check on Angie, and Julian grabbed the opportunity with both hands. He rushed into the bedroom, looked around, checked the walk-in closet and peeked into the attached bathroom. Angie was nowhere in sight.
He knew the blueprints for this house. There were no other exits from the bedroom...but there was a balcony. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside into a cool evening breeze. Angie crouched on the floor beside the acrylic wall that stretched the length of the balcony. Her face was buried in her hands. Her shoulders trembled with silent sobs.
Chapter Nine
Julian gathered Angie in his arms and held her while she wept. Though she barely made a sound, her body shuddered in violent bursts. Her breath hissed through clenched teeth. Whatever happened between her and Marion had shredded Angie’s composure. He wanted to let her cry until she ran out of tears, but they needed to hurry and get the hell away from here. Half the people downstairs were criminals, and most of them worked for Lorenzo. All the boss had to do was give the word to make her disappear.
He stroked her shoulder under the gold jacket. “You need to calm down, please calm down. It’s important for us to get to the car.”
“I can’t.” She swabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her eye makeup. Pieces of hair had come loose from her topknot and twisted around her face in messy disarray. “Just leave me alone.”
“You can’t stay here.”
“And I can’t go back to the damn party.” With both hands, she shoved against his chest, creating space between them. Grasping one of the sleek chairs on the balcony, she dragged herself away from him. When she tried to stand, her legs crumpled and her shoulders drooped. “I look awful. It’ll take forever to repair my face. People will notice.”
“I have another idea.” He stood. “Take off your shoes.”
Too upset to question or complain, she did as he said. “Now what?”
“I’ve studied every inch of the blueprints for this house.”
“Why?”
“The design and the architecture are fascinating. Anyway, I know this place better than Lorenzo, better than almost anybody.” He took her hand, shocked by how cold she was. Her fingers felt like ice. He pulled her to her feet. “First, you’re going to borrow a pair of Marion’s sneakers. Then we’re going to go down the fire escape.”
“Are you joking?”
“It was installed in the 1950s as a safety feature,” he said, “accessible only from the roof where there are no surveillance cameras.”
“Well, why not?” Shaking her head, she stumbled toward the closet. “With all the amazing stuff in this house, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me we were going to fly into the forest on a magic carpet.”
If Aladdin’s technology had been available, Lorenzo would have bought it. Julian grabbed Marion’s phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Let’s go. Shoes first, then we’re out the door.”
“We’ve always worn the same size. Since we were twelve, long before we ran away.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She tucked her feet into a pair of black-and-white Converse high-tops from a wall of shoes in the walk-in closet.
He led her from the bedroom. At the far end of the corridor, he opened the door to a short hallway. They hurried past boxes stored on shelves and went up a flight of stairs. He paused at a metal door and looked down at her. Her makeup was a mess and her platinum hair looked like a bird’s nest. He saw her innocence and her vulnerability. “Before we go outside, I need to know that you won’t fall apart. Once this door closes, it’s locked. We can’t go back.”
She lifted her chin. “I can do it.”
He had to believe her. Finding another escape route was risky, and he didn’t want to slip up and attract attention.
The door to the roof was stuck—probably hadn’t been used in years—and he had to use his shoulder to get it open. Early October was chilly in the mountains. He took off his jacket and helped her put it on before guiding her across the roof to a ladder that hung over the edge of the parapet.
The front of the house and most of the right side were glass, but these back walls revealed a more utilitarian purpose. The fire escape from the roof was painted light brown. Otherwise, it was similar to something that might be found on an apartment building in Brooklyn.
He stepped over the edge and held on to the railing. “I forgot to ask if you’re afraid of heights.”
“Too late now.” A weak smile flickered across her lips.
“I’ll go first. If you need to stop, just let me know.”
He descended backward, watching her move down the fire escape. The wind rattled around them, but the metal fire escape held firm. There were no direct lights in this area, but the glow from the rest of the house lit the trees and rocks in the forest. The farther they went, the stronger she seemed. By the time they reached the last step and he lowered the ladder, she had recovered much of her strength.
When her foot in the Converse sneaker touched the earth, he felt a whoosh of relief. They just might pull this off. “Here’s the good part. We’re closer to where I parked the car.”
“I’m sorry I fell apart,” she said with a nod. “I almost never cry. It’s not like me.”
“It’s okay. I won’t let you get hurt, I promise.”
He led her around the back of the house, passing the kitchen and heading to the place where he’d parked. Fortunately, no one had pulled in behind his silver SUV and blocked the exit. They could be out of here in minutes.
First, he put through a phone call to Leif asking him to meet at the door where he’d originally dropped him off. When the former Bronco appeared, Julian handed over Marion’s phone. “Make sure she gets it right away.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Angie’s sick. I’m taking her back to Nick’s. Can you get a ride?”
