Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(41)
Josie pulled into a small paved parking area surrounded by pine trees. Pine needles and cones littered the pavement, and the pungent smell of sap that usually intoxicated her was now suppressed by her dread. She glanced at her watch. It was 2:00 P.M. She wanted to be home by 3:30 to prepare for Nick Santos.
*
Macon stepped out onto the flagstone patio in front of the house with a coffee cup and waved. He stood beside a rectangular reflecting pool surrounded by black granite that reflected the afternoon sunlight. Half-ton boulders around the patio looked as if they had fallen naturally down the mountain during a rockslide. The temperature was balmy, a novelty in the desert, and a light breeze rustled through the pine trees, sounding like a whisk broom on pavement. A thin strip of cirrus clouds streaked an otherwise perfect blue sky.
“How do, Chief?” He held out his hand to shake Josie’s. He was an imposing man, over six feet tall, and his cowboy boots and cowboy hat gave him an extra foot. His angular body and deeply lined face matched the rough exterior of the mountains behind him.
“Such a pretty day, thought we’d sit outside and chat, if that’s okay with you?”
They sat on rattan chairs by the reflecting pool. A carafe of coffee and a tray of flavorings and creams were already laid out. Macon took a cup from the tray. “Black, right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“So, what’s the word on the kidnapping? Any news on Dillon?” he said as he filled her cup.
Josie appreciated him bypassing the small talk. “That’s actually why I asked to meet with you today.”
“I suspected as much.”
“We’ve confirmed it is a kidnapping. The kidnappers broke into my home yesterday. They left a phone with pictures of Dillon, wearing a pillowcase over his head and holding a ransom note asking for nine million dollars. They want fifty thousand by five o’clock this evening or Dillon will lose an arm.”
“Son of a bitch.” He stared at Josie, his dark eyes unblinking and his expression grim. He finally scooted his chair back from the table and crossed one ankle over his other leg as if preparing to make a business deal. “Okay, one piece at a time. First. You say they broke into your home? What have you done about increased security for yourself?”
“I called One Life, out of Odessa. They said they’ll try and get something installed in the next two days.”
“Not good enough. You let me take care of that.” He pointed over his shoulder. “The best security system you can buy, installed right here.” He picked his cell phone up off the table and searched for something. Eventually he placed the phone to his ear and spoke with a man named Chet. Macon briefly explained the murder and kidnapping, and Josie’s relationship to the victims. He then handed Josie the phone and she spoke with Chet for several minutes about the layout of her home and the acreage around her house. He took her address and promised to have someone at her home before seven o’clock that night.
Once the call was over, and before she had a chance to thank him, Macon moved on.
“Next, tell me who’s working the case.”
She explained the progress they had made locally, the recent call to the FBI, and her meeting at four with Nick Santos.
Macon narrowed his eyes at Josie and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Do you have any idea how much a professional negotiator costs?”
“I’m not going to worry about it. I’ll take out a loan from the bank. I can mortgage the house. I have some options.”
“You’re probably looking at four to five thousand per day, plus living expenses.”
Josie looked at him in shock. She knew the cost would be high, but never dreamt that much. Kidnappings could last for months, occasionally even years. Even with the house mortgaged she could never afford that kind of money, not even for a month.
“What was his name again?” Macon asked.
“Nick Santos. He lives in Mexico but wouldn’t say which city. He seemed familiar with this area. He has a good name with law enforcement in both Mexico and the U.S.”
Macon didn’t respond and instead tapped at his cell phone again. He then held it up to his ear and walked into the house. For close to ten minutes he was gone. Josie felt some of the tension release from her shoulders. The security system was a huge relief for her, but she had yet to approach him about the real reason for her visit.
Macon walked outside with an attractive young woman wearing dark jeans and a black button-down Western-style shirt with pearl snap buttons. She set a plate of cookies and cheese and crackers on the table.
“Josie, this is Sherry Sail, our assistant.”
Josie stood and shook her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well,” she said. “Can I get you anything other than coffee? That’s all Macon ever drinks. He thinks the rest of the world is as obsessed with it as he is.” The girl put her hands on her hips and smiled at Josie as she squinted into the sunlight.
“No, I’m fine, thanks. The coffee is great.”
“You must simply accept that I know what I’m talking about,” he told the girl, his tone friendly.
She rolled her eyes and walked away, ignoring his comment. “Just yell if you need anything.”
Macon smiled and watched her walk away for a moment before turning back to Josie. “You’ve done your homework. I talked with an associate who said Santos is one of the top negotiators in Mexico. I’m surprised you were able to connect with him. I’ll come with you and we can negotiate the price. We’ll contract for one month and reevaluate.”