James Grippando - Afraid of the Dark

“I’m giving you five minutes to make sense of this,” said Jack.

“I hardly know where to start.”

“Start by telling me why you think this man may be your daughter’s killer.”

“Habib told me he was there-in the house-when she was killed.”

“He told you that today?”

“No. We talked the day after McKenna died. That was when he told me.”

Jack paused, not comprehending, not sure what to ask next. One question loomed largest. “How in the world could you run off to London with the man who murdered your daughter?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “In fact, a big part of the reason I left Chuck-left the country-was to get away from the reminders of what had happened to McKenna. I didn’t think I was running off with her killer. I was sure Jamal did it.”

“Because McKenna named him?”

“Not just that. Habib told me what happened.”

“His version of what happened, you mean. What was his story?”

She winced with pain, not from his question but from the bruises. Jack slid out of the booth, quickly got some ice from the bartender, and wrapped it in a napkin for her. She pressed it to her face as she spoke.

“That day McKenna died, Chuck was out of the country. Habib came over to see me. I wasn’t there, but as he was walking back to his car, he heard a scream from inside the house. He knew where we hid the house key-under the pot on the porch-and when he opened the door he saw Jamal running down the stairs. Habib chased him through the kitchen and into the garage, and Jamal hit him over the head with a rake or something. Habib came to after a few minutes and heard another noise. He tried to get up but was so shaky he knocked over the garbage can. Next thing he knew, the door flew open and Vince Paulo shot at him. The bullet hit the propane tank on our barbecue. You know the rest.”

It was barely plausible, and Jack called it what it was. “Everything he told you is a crock. Jamal wasn’t even in the country when McKenna was killed.”

“I didn’t know that at the time. I kept getting threatening e-mails from Jamal all the way up until Habib and I came up with our plan-until I became Maysoon and went to live with him here in London.”

“Jamal was in Gitmo when you were getting those messages.”

“How was I supposed to know that? I wanted to believe what Habib was telling me. It wasn’t Chuck’s fault-the way he took McKenna’s death so hard and blamed himself for being out of the country. But honestly, if I had stayed around Chuck another day, I probably would have ended up committing suicide for real. I thought I could start over with Habib. I thought I knew him.” She moved the ice to the darkening bruise on her cheekbone. “Until today.”

“You need to tell me how it got to this point.”

“I told you: This is the first I’ve seen this side of him.”

“Really?”

“Do you think I would have given up my life in Miami and moved to London for this?”

“Do you think I came all the way from Miami to get half the story? Talk to me, Shada. Now.”

She looked away, ashamed, then spoke in a soft voice of resignation. “My relationship with Habib had its kinky side, I guess you’d say. Never anything illegal, but he was after me to find women and set up a threesome for him. But is that so bad? Isn’t that every man’s fantasy?”

Jack let that one go. The walls had ears, and Andie’s middle name was Walls.

“Anyway,” she said, “Something set him off today.”

“What set him off? That’s the thing I’m trying to understand.”

“I really don’t know. He’s been edgy lately, and when he came back from wherever he went tonight, it was like a bomb exploding. I had to fight my way out of the apartment. Thankfully, I can outrun just about anyone.”

Jack could attest to that.

“Anyway,” said Shada, “I started this conversation by asking you where Vince is.”

“Chuck doesn’t know?” asked Jack. “Why doesn’t he just track him down with his cell phone spyware the same way you found me?”

“We tried,” said Shada. “But the spyware doesn’t work if you remove the battery from the cell. Vince knows that, and that’s what has Chuck a little worried.”

“Maybe I should check in with his wife.”

“Chuck did already. If you call, she’ll just worry even more.”

The only other option was to call the police, but he knew the cops wouldn’t help find someone who’d been missing for just two hours.

“Let’s go to the hotel and wait for him,” said Shada. “I need your computer.”

“To find Vince?”

“No.” Shada put down the ice. “I’ve been getting more and more suspicious since I heard Jamal was dead. Once I get a bad feeling about someone, I don’t just sit around and play victim.”

“Meaning what?” said Jack.

Shada dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of USB flash drives. “While Habib was out today, I copied some files from his laptop.”

“Does Chuck know about this?”

“Why do you think we tracked you down so fast when we couldn’t find Vince?”

Jack was suddenly feeling better about the trust issue. “Can I see those files?”

“Not without Chuck.”

“Naturally,” said Jack, wondering how the world had turned before Web conferences. “Let’s patch him in.”

It was a ten-minute walk to the hotel. Not surprisingly, Shada was facile with the computer, and Jack zoned out as she set up communication with Chuck. Funny how the mind works, but Jack spent half that time trying to remember the name of the pub they had just left. Too many authentic pubs had converted into gastro bars-not much profit in Scotch eggs, but tuna tartare was a whole new world-and Jack thought he might want to return someday with Andie, when this insanity was over.

Hamilton Hall. That’s it.

“We’re good to go,” said Shada. “Chuck, can you hear me?”

Jack expected to see Chuck’s face on his computer screen, but it was his usual desktop even when Chuck’s voice came over the speaker.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Shada explained. “Chuck has control over your computer now. We can watch what he clicks on, what files he accesses. It’s as if he’s in the room with us and we’re looking over his shoulder.”

Jack wondered how many times Chuck had done one of these remote-access jobs without people knowing it.

“Go ahead and insert the flash drive,” said Chuck. He was talking about the files Shada had copied from Habib’s computer.

“Which one?” she asked.

“How the fuck would I know, Shada?”

“You don’t have to be nasty about it,” she said.

Jack detected the tone of a man none too keen on his wife’s sleeping habits. So much for any likelihood of long-term coordination between these two.

“I really don’t know which one to choose,” she said.

“Just pick one that has video content. I’m most interested in seeing what this fucker has been downloading.”

His tone wasn’t getting any sweeter. Jack just hoped Chuck could control his anger long enough to get the information they needed from Shada.

Shada sorted through the flash drives. She’d numbered them, presumably based on the order in which she’d copied the files. Jack filled the lull with what was on his mind. “Chuck, do you know where Vince is?”

Chuck didn’t answer right away, and it was more than just a Web transmission delay. Finally, the response came over the speaker: “I haven’t heard from him.”

“That’s not what I asked,” said Jack.

More silence. Jack pressed. “Chuck, do you know something?”

“Vince is a big boy. I’m sure he’s fine. Shada, the flash drive, please.”