All Through the Night Read online

  Jerry said, “Foster Oates is not the wandering kind.”

  Holly added, “Foster has been on the community board for two years. He is extremely capable and very alert.”

  The young cop shook his head and kicked at the narrow strip of sand lining the bank. He was hot, he was bored, and he showed a rising irritation over being surrounded by old people.

  Jerry’s voice hardened. “That’s a crime scene you’re messing up there.”

  The cop glanced over, his expression lost behind his shades. He kept kicking the earth.

  Coltrane asked Jerry, “You a cop?”

  “Thirty years. Orlando. Retired from Homicide.”

  Coltrane turned to the young cop and said, “Why don’t you take a step or so back there, son.”

  The young officer bristled. “Whose jurisdiction is this?”

  “Yours. Which means if it does turn out to be a kidnapping, and there’s been a transport of the vic across state lines, you’re gonna have yourself a time explaining to the fibbies why you dug a furrow in their evidence.”

  The cop did his best to stomp across the pine-cushioned ground. “I need to go call this in.”

  “You do that.” Coltrane waited until the cop was out of range to say, “Tell me what you think happened here.”

  “This is tied to the surveillance on Easton Grey,” Wayne said. “We messed up their operation. This is payback.”

  “That why you called?”

  “Partly. You see how the local cop is treating this. They’re going to shut us out. We can help here. Jerry’s got more time on the force than that punk’s been alive.”

  “And you?” Coltrane stripped off his aviator shades. His eyes were tight and hard and pink-rimmed. “You good at what you do?”

  “The best.”

  He used both hands to slip the shades back behind his ears and settle them tight against his forehead. “We found bugs in almost every room of the Grey home. Four in his office. And cameras. Ultra high-tech stuff. Sent one off to the lab in Miami, got a call from the FBI agent in charge. Bottom line, this ain’t your basic beachside surveillance.”

  Wayne asked, “Can you help us here?”

  In response, the officer reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He hit a couple of buttons, waited, then said, “This is Coltrane. Our patrol boat back in the water? Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Swing on across the bay and pick up two fellers from the Hattie Blount Community. They’ll be waiting for you by the shore. They’ll tell you what they need.” He listened a second, then hung up. “Most likely this won’t do anybody any good. But we ought to just check out the local marinas and boats fishing off the island, see if they spotted anything.”

  “Thanks,” Wayne said. “A lot.”

  “I called that Mehan feller over in Naples. The detective said you were either a good man to have on your side or a felony waiting to happen. He couldn’t tell which.” The chief tilted his chin so that Wayne could see his distorted reflection in Coltrane’s sunglasses. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see how this dance turns out.”

  The John’s Island patrol boat was a twenty-one-foot center-console with twin one-fifty Evinrudes. They covered the local marinas and all the boats within a five-mile radius in less than two hours. Jerry carried a photo of him and Foster on a boat from happier times. No one had seen him, or noticed any sign of a struggle on another boat. Fishermen were a private group who kept to themselves. Wayne had expected nothing less. Even so, he felt hollowed out and defeated when they returned. He thanked the patrol officers the best he could, but he knew they also felt they had wasted half a day on sunshine and empty waters.

  Many of the community gathered at their return. Wayne held back while Jerry gave them the news, or lack of any. He waited until everyone had dispersed except for Holly, Victoria, and Eilene. He walked over to where they stood, flanked on one side by Julio and the other by Jerry.

  Jerry said, “Still no call.”

  Eilene said, “We’ve got volunteers manning the phone around the clock. Both Foster’s home and the community.”

  Wayne directed his gaze at Holly. “I can leave if you want.”

  “Leave?” Victoria sounded bereaved. “Leave and go where?”

  “It’s your call,” Wayne said. “Whatever you decide, I understand.”

  Eilene said, “This is not your fault, Wayne.”

  “If what Jerry says is true about these things being connected, it might be. Or what I did yesterday trying to help Tatyana could have stirred them up.”

  Holly bit her lip and did not speak.

  “You can’t leave,” Victoria said. Her unsteady voice turned it into an abject plea. “Who would look after us?”

  Wayne felt hundreds of eyes, as though even the folks who had returned to their homes were still watching. “There’s a chance if I leave, they’ll let Foster go.”

  “Not much of one,” Jerry said. “More likely, you go and they think this is a lever they can keep using till they’re done.”

  Victoria said, “Holly, tell him.” When the community chief did not respond fast enough, Victoria’s voice rose higher still. “Daughter, do it now.”

  Holly blinked. Her voice was very weak. “Stay.”

  Wayne nodded. It was hardly a resounding vote of confidence, but it was probably all he deserved. He said to Jerry, “We have to move.”

  “I’m coming,” Julio said, and when Jerry looked over, he added, “He’s my friend too.”

  “Let him help,” Victoria said. “But first we have to pray. Everybody, hold hands. Eilene, you say the words.”

  The second time around was easier, though the feel of Jerry’s huge mitt in his own was odd. Not bad. Just odd. Wayne could not recall ever having touched a man that way. The sound of his sister praying for him brought up images of him waking in the Santa Fe park, watching a sunrise and feeling like her prayers were the only reason he made it back. Only this time he heard her words more closely and felt the impact more intensely, such that the feel of Jerry’s dry skin brought comfort. Standing alone, the moment would have been too weighed down with a lifetime of wrong moves.

  Wayne rammed his truck through the afternoon I-95 traffic like the other vehicles were nothing but stationary obstacles. Jerry glanced over a couple of times, leaning across Julio to take in the quivering speedometer, but he said nothing. When they pulled up in front of Julio’s apartment house, Jerry said, “You don’t have to do this, Julio.”

  “I told you, man. I want to help.”

  “The first sign of trouble, you get out. Don’t play a hero.” Jerry squinted into the midafternoon glare. “Nothing worse than a partner who won’t call for backup.”

  Julio shifted in the seat next to him. The word Jerry had used hung in the air between them. Partner. Wayne said, “Let’s hear you tell us the plan.”

  “I already told you twice.”

  “So tell us again,” Jerry said.

  “I ask around. I don’t talk to nobody but friends. I see if anybody knows anything about somebody holding an old man. This ain’t rocket science.”

  “And what are you gonna do if you hear something?”

  He held up the phone and showed them how fast he could get her number up on the screen. “Call Tatyana’s cell.”

  Jerry said, “The first breath you feel on the back of your neck, you phone in. We’ll pull you out. If we’re out of town, you call my buddy on the force. I already spoke to him.” Jerry’s eyes looked translucent in the sunlight. “Give me his name, Julio.”

  “Clarence.” Making a big deal of the repetition. “Detective Clarence Hattley.”

  “You got his number. He knows you’re out here and he’s looking too.”

  “I heard you the first time. Now let me outta the car.” When Jerry didn’t move, Wayne opened his door and slid out. Julio was back into his barrio gear—floppy jeans and unlaced sneakers and a big silver-plated chain banging on his neck. Julio offered Wayne his fist. “Lat
er, jefe.”

  Wayne slipped back behind the wheel and said, “I was going to take him to Disney today.”

  Jerry watched the kid slip around the first line of buildings and said, “There’s nothing the kid can find that my buddies won’t turn up first.”

  “You’re probably right.” Wayne restarted the truck. “But if he does find our man, think of the world of apologies you’re gonna have to make.”

  Tatyana came through the Arrivals portal and took aim straight at Wayne. “Do you have any word?”

  “Not yet.” A time like this, he should be focused as tight as a laser. But his throat became clogged by the look of her, standing there in a suit that shimmered softly, grey with a hint of something the airport’s muted light almost masked, maybe blue. All the people who passed glanced her way.

  Jerry asked, “Who told you about Foster?”

  “Easton phoned just as we were taking off.” She looked like she wanted to weep. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Tatyana.”

  “I got you involved. All of you.” She took a breath and said the inevitable. “Maybe you should resign.”

  “No.”

  “But Foster—”

  From behind them, a man barked, “Can we get a move on here?”

  The pressure that had been building behind Wayne’s eyes all day long tightened another notch. “Hello, Jim.”

  The bullish man Wayne had last seen retreating from the conference room snarled, “Try any of your tricks on me today and I’ll have you locked up.”

  Wayne asked Tatyana, “What’s he doing here anyway?”

  “He’s working on the Teledyne project.”

  “Which means I’ve got a lot bigger problems to worry about than one missing geriatric.” Jim Berkind snapped his fingers. “Let’s move, Kuchik.”

  Wayne said, “I need to ask you something.”

  The guy actually laughed. “Not a hope.”

  One minute Jerry was standing on Tatyana’s other side. The next he was directly in front of Berkind. “That old guy who’s gone missing is my friend. You, I don’t even want to know.”

  Berkind tried to step around Jerry and failed. He pushed uselessly at Jerry’s solid bulk. “Get out of my way.”

  Travelers split and spread like a school of disturbed fish. Jerry held his ground. “The badge in my back pocket says I served with Orlando’s finest for thirty years. We yell for security, who do you think they’re gonna believe?”

  Tatyana said, “Jerry, please.”

  Jerry held his ground. “I’m giving you one more chance to answer the man’s question.”

  Wayne said, “I need to know who sent you to harass me in the conference room.”

  Berkind rubbed his neck. “You’re all insane.”

  Jerry stepped in closer still. “Else you want to see what rough really means, you answer the man.”

  “Who sent you?” Wayne repeated.

  “I’m not telling you a thing.” His eyes were red-rimmed and almost teary with rage. “What is with you, Kuchik?”

  “Easton told you to help us, Jim.”

  “Easton Grey is hunkered down in his house like it was a cave.” The guy huffed his breath now, like a bull ready to charge. “I checked up on you. Mister Special Forces, the man who won’t be stopped, the big warrior hero who’s going to make everything safe for our fearless leader to come crawling out of his hole.”

  “Jim.”

  “No, Kuchik. You’re on their side. I’m the one who’s trying to keep this deal together. And I know an enemy when I see one.”

  “Who is trying to kill the deal, Jim?”

  Berkind swiveled around the former cop and stalked away. This time Jerry did not try to stop him.

  Tatyana said, “He’s been like this all day.”

  Jerry asked, “Easton told you to travel with him?”

  “It was supposed to be somebody else. But when I got to the airport, he was here waiting for me.”

  Wayne said, “The data I found online says Teledyne is made up of three different groups. Hotels, private clinics, and condominiums. Is he working on the whole deal, or just one part?”

  “Jim Berkind has been working with Teledyne’s hotel group for almost three years. We partner with them on hotels in Colorado resorts. That’s how we came to know they were interested in being acquired.”

  Jerry said, “I don’t see the connection.”

  Tatyana gave her face a weary swipe. “Can we leave, please? It’s been a very long day.”

  Wayne took the briefcase from her limp fingers, then slipped the overnight bag off her shoulder. “Who was supposed to be coming with you?”

  “Another of our legal team. He is genuinely sick. I checked.”

  “I need to get back inside your company, Tatyana.”

  “I thought the books wouldn’t tell you anything.”

  “Not Grey’s. Teledyne’s. I need to go deeper.”

  She nodded slowly. “Our company keeps a suite at the Peabody. I’ll make a call. If it’s free, you can stay there tonight.”

  “I’m not talking about tomorrow,” Wayne replied. “I need to do this now.”

  Jerry checked his watch and said, “We need to make one stop on the way.”

  Tatyana looked from one face to the other, then decided. “Do you remember where I live?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll take a taxi home. Make your stop and come meet me at my condominium. I have a dedicated line to Grey’s mainframe with unlimited access to Teledyne data. You can check it out and nobody needs to know.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The area around the projects where Julio and his grandmother lived looked a lot worse at sunset than it had in the middle of the day. The sky was not completely dark yet, but already the shadows held big-city nightmares. A cluster of kids passed by. All of them slowed to inspect the faces inside Wayne’s truck.

  “Five gets you twenty, every one of them is packing.” Jerry checked his watch. “Try your sister’s number.”

  Wayne drew Tatyana’s cell phone from his pocket. He punched up Eilene’s number. Julio answered on the first ring with, “What.”

  “Where are you?”

  Jerry said, “Give me that.” He took the phone from Wayne and said, “You’re late. Which means we’re sitting here in a free-fire zone and you’re out shooting hoops or whatever—”

  Jerry stopped talking. He listened intently, shot a glance at Wayne, then said, “You shoulda called this in.”

  “What is it?” Wayne asked.

  Jerry raised one finger. Wait. “That’s good thinking, kid. But you shoulda let us know what you were doing. Yeah. Okay. You stay safe, you hear?”

  Jerry slapped the phone shut. “Let’s roll.”

  “He scored?”

  “Hard to say. Julio hit the evening service at Eilene’s church. Then he’s going over to the late mass at the Catholics. He’s asking all the maids to keep an eye out. He’ll bunk at Eilene’s. Let’s go, okay? I seen back streets of Da Nang that felt safer than this place.”

  Tatyana’s home held the same muted elegance as the woman herself. Twelve-foot ceilings, recessed lighting, marble tiled floors, a couple of nice oil paintings. She ushered Wayne and Jerry into her home office. Twin twenty-one inch screens flanked a wireless keyboard and Bluetooth mouse.

  As she switched on the computer and tagged in her ID, Jerry said, “Mind if I make a few more calls on your cell? I’d like to check in with the cops here and down around Vero.”

  Tatyana did not look up from the screens. “Keep the cell phone, it’s my personal line. I can use the company’s. Okay, here is the accountant’s summary on Teledyne. You scroll down and touch the blue script and it will flash you over to the raw data.”

  “I can handle this.”

  “Good, because I’m exhausted.” She patted his shoulder—nothing intimate, just two colleagues pushing hard on a deadline. “Help yourself to anything you need in the kitchen.
Call me if there’s an emergency.”

  Wayne soon lost himself in the books. The story was a far more complicated one than Grey’s, and it held him. He heard things in his periphery. Wayne registered on some vague level that Jerry spoke to his buddies on the Orlando force. Then Jerry called Coltrane and the Vero Beach Police. He called his Orlando buddies again. Jerry then set a cup of coffee by Wayne’s hand and repeated what he had said earlier, how there were basically four clearinghouses for Florida crime. Jacksonville was focused mainly north, handling things south of Atlanta. Miami’s gangs covered the glades, Lauderdale, and the Keys. Tampa controlled the panhandle to where the reach of New Orleans began. And Orlando handled the rest—most of central Florida, most of the East Coast. Jerry’s pals on the force might hear if a local syndicate or gang was involved. If. Wayne heard all these things. He even glanced up several times while drinking from his mug. But nothing registered below the surface, down where the numbers churned and the Teledyne tale spun itself out.

  The phone rang sometime after midnight. First the home phone, then the cell. Wayne heard it chirruping from the living room. Jerry did not pick up. Ten minutes later the home phone started again. Wayne picked up the receiver on the desk. “Kuchik residence.”

  “Mr. Grusza? Easton Grey.”

  “Tatyana’s asleep.”

  “Good. I was hoping to speak with you. How are things?”

  “Still no word about Foster.”

  “I’m so sorry about your friend.” The company chief did not need volume to express his genuine regret. “I just spoke with Officer Coltrane. He’s set a surveillance team on our home.”

  “Mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’ve been going through the Teledyne books.”

  “And?”

  “I haven’t found a thing. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but it isn’t here.”

  Easton Grey waited a moment. “But something causes you to want to know more.”