Wherever She Goes(75)

His head shoots up.

I go on. “I’ve done my homework. Six years ago, you offered evidence to the feds. Evidence against your family. Then you changed your mind. I’m guessing that was a tactic to spook your father, to get something you wanted.”

He shakes his head. “No, it was a tactic to get the hell away from my family, for once and for all. Only it backfired. They threatened Kimmy. So I changed my mind. Then when Kimmy left, she took the drive. For insurance, I guess. I couldn’t blame her. I just . . . The thought that she might have been pregnant? That she left because she was scared of my family?” He runs his hand through his hair. Then he throws it off and straightens again. “Does Hugh have my son?”

“Don’t know. Right now, don’t care. He has my husband, and that’s my primary concern. So there’s a USB drive that contains incriminating data you compiled after you got tired of working in the family business.”

“I never worked in the family business.” His voice is sharp, emphatic, eyes bright with anger.

“You ran an underage strip club—”

“I was young. I was stupid. I believed the girls when they said they were eighteen. Yeah, young and stupid, okay? A strip club with eighteen-year-olds isn’t exactly a business to be proud of, but in my family, that bar’s set pretty damned low. To me, that was going legit. It was also an enterprise my parents supported. They helped me set it up. Then I found out they were using it as a front for—” Again, he cuts himself off. “I found out my club wasn’t as legal as I thought. So I closed it down and started the Zodiacs. Which are legit. Or they damned well better be. If Hugh . . .”

He gives his head a shake, that anger surging again. “What the hell am I saying? Of course my parents have their fingers in the Zodiacs. I was a damned fool. Again.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Hugh was my parents’ employee. They gave him to me for the strip clubs. We became friends. He comes from the same place I do, just lower on the totem pole. He wanted out, too. Or so he said. So when I broke it off with my parents, Hugh came with me. I trusted him.”

I’m still struggling to keep up here, to work it out, so I say, “You think he’s been working for your parents all along. They’re the ones who want the USB drive back, and they’re using him to get it. He’s doing this for them, not for you.”

“Definitely not for me, that son of a bitch. I only wanted him to find my son. I thought he—Brandon—was out there somewhere, maybe taken by whoever killed Kimmy.”

Zima pushes to his feet. I jump forward with “Uh-uh,” gun still raised, and he seems to struggle to focus on it, as if he’s distracted, forgetting the whole held-at-gunpoint situation.

When he realizes it, he waves me off. “You don’t need that. I’m going to handle this. I’ll call—”

I stop him as he reaches for his phone. “Explain first.”

“The main thing right now is getting your husband and Brandon back. I’m going to call Hugh. He might be my parents’ man, but I’ve got enough dirt on him to make him give back whoever he has.”

I nod. “Go ahead, but I’m listening.”

“I know.” He hits speed dial. Listens. Then curses and hangs up. Tries again. Curses again.

“Not answering, is he?” I say.

“No, and I won’t even bother leaving a message. That was his one and only chance to straighten this out. Now I go to my parents.”

“They’re in Chicago?”

He nods. “They came to celebrate the opening. Or I thought that’s why they were here.”

I’m putting it all together. “Hugh saw Kim in Chicago. He called your father, who had her killed.”

Zima goes still. His hand reaches blindly, finding and gripping the desktop. He looks as if he’s going to be sick, and I realize he hadn’t connected the dots that far. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, composing himself.

When he speaks again his voice is low and controlled but strumming with anger. “I will handle this.”

“I really don’t have any idea where that drive is. Hugh is convinced I knew Kim, and that she told me about it. But I only met her once. I just got caught up in this.”

He nods but doesn’t seem to hear me, still lost in his thoughts, in his grief and anger.

“I don’t care about the drive,” he says. “This is about my son.”

“And my husband.”

He nods, but again, it’s distracted. “I’ll get him back for you. Everything will be fine. My father will listen to me. I’ll straighten this out.”

He walks away before I can say another word.





Chapter Thirty-Six





I go after Zima . . . at least to make sure we exchange numbers. Then he’s gone, hell-bent on his mission.

I don’t trust him.

But I do believe him when he says he had nothing to do with killing Kim or kidnapping Paul. His confusion and anger and grief were genuine. His story is true. The part I don’t trust is him saying he’ll get Paul back for me. Oh, he’ll try, but that’s not his priority. Brandon is. Zima’s family is his responsibility, and my family is mine.

Orbec calls as I reach the car. Again I try reasoning with him. Try telling him I don’t know anything about this “data.” He won’t even hear me out. I have one more hour to find it. One more hour until he calls. Then I’m out of time.