Nothing to Lose (J.P. Beaumont #25)(84)

I could hear Jimmy in the backseat tearfully pleading his case. “But I didn’t hitchhike,” he was saying. “Ty’s older brother gave me a ride. I had him drop me off downtown, and I walked the rest of the way. I didn’t want him to know exactly where I was going, but it took longer than I thought. That’s why I just now got here.”

There was more than a little irony in that. Years earlier Jimmy’s mother had caught a ride to take her from Homer to Anchorage without her parents’ knowledge or consent. Now Jimmy had done the same thing in reverse. It wasn’t exactly karma, but it came close.

There was a long silence on Jimmy’s end of the line while his mother gave him an earful, so I turned my attention to Twink. “Any idea where she’s going?”

“If she’s leaving town, probably the airport,” was the reply.

“Are there commercial flights in and out of Homer?” I asked.

“Limited,” Twink answered, “and not at this time of night.”

“So why . . . ?”

And that’s when I remembered something Chad Winkleman had said—he’d sold off all of Jack Loveday’s aircraft—all but one. Shelley had been a bush pilot once, too, and she’d held back one of the planes for her own use. By morning she’d be on her way out of Anchorage, probably flying with a fake ID and headed somewhere far out of reach of U.S. extradition proceedings—a place where she’d be able to cash in on Roger’s stolen monies at her leisure.

“The airport,” I said. “Is that where Jack Loveday’s flight school was located?”

“You’ve got that right,” Twink replied. “And unless I miss my guess, she has that Piper of hers all gassed up and waiting.”

If Shelley was on her way to the airport, so were Twink and I, but we couldn’t very well go racing after a fleeing felon with a twelve-year-old innocent bystander doing a ride-along.

“Is the Driftwood on the way to the airport?”

“It could be.”

I gave the problem some thought. If Shelley was planning on hiding out somewhere in the interior of Alaska, a BOLO would eventually turn up her vehicle. But I know enough about airport issues to understand that even when using private aircraft, getting into and out of airports takes time. It seemed to me that pausing our tail long enough to unload Jimmy was worth the risk of possibly losing sight of our target.

I swung around and held out my hand. “Give me the phone,” I said.

“But I’m not done—” Jimmy began.

“Give me the damn phone,” I repeated, “but don’t hang up. I need to talk to your mom.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jimmy complied.

“Nitz,” I said. “How close are you?”

“Probably fifteen minutes out. Why?”

“Do you know where the Driftwood Inn is?”

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s where I’m staying. My driver and I have an errand to run, and we need to drop Jimmy off. We’ll let him out there and have him wait for you in the lobby.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler if I just went to my dad’s place to begin with?” Nitz asked. “I need to have it out with him sooner or later, and I could just as well get it over with.”

“Trust me on this,” I said. “Going to your father’s place right now is not a good idea. We’ll drop Jimmy at the hotel lobby and ask the desk clerk to keep an eye on him until you get there.”

“But I’m so mad at him—” she began.

“Don’t be,” I advised. “I think he’s a pretty squared-away kid, and you haven’t been straight with him. If I’d just learned that the people I love had been lying to me my whole life, I think I’d be pissed off, too. So why don’t you start by telling him the whole story?”

“All of it?”

“All of it,” I said. “After all, it’s his life, too.”





Chapter 31




By the time the call with Nitz ended, I realized Twink was talking on her phone. “That’s right, Fred,” she was saying. “We’ll pull up at the door and drop him off. His mom’s on his way.”

“Who’s Fred?” I asked.

“The nighttime desk clerk,” Twink answered. “Who do you think? He’ll give the kid some hot chocolate and have him wait in the lobby.

With my phone still in hand, I tried dialing Marvin. The call went to voice mail just as we pulled up to the Driftwood Inn. Fred was standing outside waiting to take charge of Jimmy the moment he stepped out of the Travelall. Clearly Twink’s boots-on-the-ground knowledge had saved the day.

“How far to the airport?” I asked as we peeled away from the hotel.

“Fifteen to twenty,” Twink replied.

“Make that fifteen,” I told her. “I’m going to try Lieutenant Price again. We need reinforcements.”

I dialed his cell phone and was frustrated when once again my call went straight to voice mail. “It’s Beau,” I told him. “Call me. It’s urgent.”

Of course I knew what he was up against at that point. Once a homicide cop has been handed a case, that instantly becomes his whole priority. Everything else fades to insignificance. Nothing else matters. The problem was, I didn’t like being on the wrong side of that otherwise completely understandable barrier.