Gone(51)

Jackson broke his focus and leaned over to the agent beside him. They whispered to one another. Peter waited. He caught Eric Stokes’ eyes for a moment. Then Jackson returned his attention and stared across the large table. “Please, go on. You were assaulted by Brad Rafferty . . .”

“Correct. And then, next morning, Sunday, I found Brad at Spillane’s restaurant and wrapped him up.”

“Wrapped him up?”

Peter shifted. He had some bruising along his right leg, and his shoulder hurt. “I arrested him and brought him in.”

“For the altercation with you at the bar.”

“Yes. So, I talked to Brad. I asked him about Spillane. I’ve explained all of this to Sergeant Fransen — shouldn’t we be focused on the family?”

“What originally brought Spillane to your attention?”

Peter sighed. “Detective Rondeau. He asked me to look into it.”

“Uh-huh. I see. And where is Detective Rondeau now?” Jackson looked around at the others flanking him, particularly Oesch. As Oesch made excuses, Peter looked back at Stokes. Stokes widened his eyes and raised his shoulders in a subtle shrug. Jackson raised his hand to quiet Oesch, who was rattling off something about Rondeau being a bit unorthodox.

Jackson gave a quick, dismissive shake of the head. “That will keep. For now, I’ll tell you: we’ve been following Mr. Spillane for two years, since he moved north.”

“Why?”

Jackson shot Peter a look that conveyed such a question was inappropriate. Peter didn’t give a shit.

“That’s a confidential matter, Deputy King.”

Peter felt like rolling his eyes. He felt the slightest touch on his elbow. Althea winked and her lips curled into a half-smile. She was telling him to cool it.

He took a beat. “Okay. I mean, I got the manifest documents from Rondeau. Then Brad said Spillane was connected, so . . .”

Jackson held up a hand. He murmured to McDonough again. Peter glanced at the unidentified man at the back of the room. The man turned and knocked on the door to leave. The door opened and he stepped out.

Jackson and McDonough looked ready to go. Jackson tapped the table with his fingers, and rose. McDonough followed suit. “Thank you so much, again, Deputies.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all we need, yes, thank you. This is a federal case now.”

“What about the family?”

Jackson was turning away; he stopped, came slowly back around. All eyes were on him and Peter. Oesch looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“We’re confident that Mr. Spillane will describe the location of the family. It’s in his interest now.” Jackson fully turned, knuckled down onto the table, leaning in. “Mr. Spillane is elderly. He doesn’t care to spend his remaining years behind bars, to die in jail. And he’s concerned for his nephew, Tony.”

“Did he abduct them?”

Jackson shared a look with McDonough, who nodded slightly. Jackson said to Peter, “We believe the family was taken by associates of Mr. Spillane. Associates invested in him, who stood to lose money if their corruption was unveiled. The US Attorney will allege unlawful transportation of unregistered hazardous waste, failure to produce the proper method documents, health code violations, and possibly the elimination of evidence, in several racketeering cases.”

“Bodies,” Peter said, hanging on the agent’s last words. “Elimination of evidence — you mean they were dumping bodies, getting rid of criminal evidence, using the trucks.”

“In some cases, we believe so. In other cases, they may have been simply avoiding government fees.”

“I want to go.”

“I’m sorry?”

Peter stood up. “I got to Spillane — my partner and I did. I’ve been thinking about that family, those little kids, night and day. I want to be there when we find them.”

Oesch spoke up, “Deputy King, we’re all grateful for your actions. You and Deputy Bruin. Really, we . . .”

Jackson paid no attention to Oesch. “Alright,” he said to Peter.

Peter felt a rush. He looked down at Althea beside him. He didn’t see his enthusiasm reflected back. Her face filled with sorrow, and she shook her head. She didn’t want to; she couldn’t.

“Let’s do it,” he said.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE / En Route

He rode in a motorcade of three dark SUVs, red emergency lights jittering on the dashboard. Jackson drove, pressing over the speed limit, hunched against the wheel. His body language suggested he was unfamiliar with the routes of the Adirondacks, the windy, hilly roads. Like he might get seasick.

Peter was glad to be free. No one had wanted to let him leave; not Sheriff Oesch, and certainly not Internal Affairs. “I’ve got a month of meetings, forms and evals to look forward to,” he told Jackson.

“Tell me more about Detective Rondeau,” Jackson said, turning a bit green.

“Rondeau?” Peter chose his words carefully. “I haven’t met a lot of detectives; he’s our first. I remember there was a little bit of controversy when Oesch hired him; some of the staff said he had a checkered past, something like that. Oesch seemed to want him anyway; he had an excellent clearance rate. But, you must know more than I do.”