Харлан Кобен - The Boy from the Woods

“Anyway, it’s still dark. I feel my way out of the can. I get into the hallway. I’m worried that maybe they lock the doors at night. Like maybe I can’t get out. You know what I mean?”

“Right, go on.”

“Then I hear voices. Two men.”

“Let me guess. Rusty and Dash.”

“Right. And they’re arguing. I get closer. I heard Rusty say, ‘You got to get rid of the tape. You have to promise me.’ He’s drunk. I can hear it in his voice. Rusty is usually in control, but he’s got that sloppy-drunk thing going on. And he keeps saying, ‘You don’t get what it could do to us, you should destroy it, you don’t want anyone to ever know.’”

“And what did Dash say?”

“He just said don’t worry, no one would ever know, he’d make sure of it. But Rusty kept insisting. He kept begging Dash to delete it, but then he’d sort of take it back.”

“What do you mean, take it back?”

“He knew, Hester. Rusty knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That Dash Maynard would never really delete it. Dash sees himself as a serious documentarian or journalist or something. An observer. I wouldn’t be surprised if even that conversation was recorded. I’m telling you. There were bugs everywhere. Maybe even in that bathroom.”

“Uh-huh,” Hester said. This was sounding more and more like a waste of time. “So what else?”

“That’s not enough?”

“Not really.”

“They knew I was there.”

“Did they say something?”

“No, but three days later, I got called in for a surprise urine test. They found drugs in my system. I was fired. Me. Their big ratings draw. Not only that, the test was leaked to the media. You know why, right? It was a plot to discredit me. I was clean.”

“You just told me you took cocaine—”

“That was three days earlier!”

He was getting more and more agitated, shifting in his seat, eyes darting, sweat beads popping up on his forehead, and Hester bet that Arnie Poplin was on something right now. “They needed to discredit me. They needed to get rid of me.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Rusty killed someone.”

Hester stopped. “What do you mean?”

“That’s what Dash has on him.”

“Are you saying,” Hester began slowly, “that Dash Maynard has a tape of Rusty Eggers committing murder?”

“I can only tell you what I heard.”

“Which was?”

“Rusty saying, ‘I didn’t mean to kill him, it was an accident.’”

“Those were his exact words?”

“No. I don’t know. That was the meaning. Rusty killed someone. That was their bond. Dash even said that, now that I think of it.”

“Said what?”

“That he’d never tell because that was their bond. Something like that. That all the good things that came after were based on that bond. I’m telling you, Hester. They’re killers. Or Rusty is. Dash has the proof. He has a legal obligation to release that information, doesn’t he?”

Hester thought about her earlier conversation with Delia, about what she knew and wouldn’t reveal despite attorney-client privilege. She glanced over at Rola. Rola shrugged as if to say she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

“So can I come on the show?” Arnie Poplin said. “I’m free tonight if you want to do it then.”

Gavin Chambers pulled into the 7-Eleven lot in a blue Chevrolet Cruze. Alone. Gone for now at least were both the driver and the SUV. Discretion? Maybe. He slid out of the Chevy wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, which, Wilde thought, was always a dumb disguise because the only people who don that look are trying to disguise themselves. Then again it was sunny out. Maybe Gavin was just wearing them because they were comfortable.

Maybe not everything is a freaking clue.

“Why are you at a 7-Eleven?” Gavin asked.

“The Slurpee isn’t reason enough?”

Gavin sighed. “So what have you learned?”

“I learned not to move because you had something you needed me to see. At least, that’s what you told me on the phone.”

He shook his head. “You remind me of my first wife.”

“Was she hot too?”

“A hot mess.”

Wilde checked his phone. “Do you mind giving me a lift back to the Maynards’? We can talk on the way.”

“Suit yourself.” He hit the unlock button on the remote. As they got in, Gavin dropped the bomb: “We know that there’s been a ransom demand.”

He started up the car and put it in reverse.

Top four possibilities, Wilde thought.

One, Chambers was completely fishing. That didn’t seem likely.

Two, what with the panic around the Maynards, Chambers had simply surmised that there must have been a ransom demand. If so, that was a hell of a guess.

Three, he did indeed have certain areas of the house bugged. Very possible. Rola would run a sweep and he’d know about that soon enough.

Four, Gavin had an inside source.

Whatever, Wilde wasn’t going to confirm or deny. At the traffic light, Gavin Chambers turned and stared at him. Wilde stared back. For a few moments, neither of them blinked. When the light turned green, someone behind them honked their horn. Gavin shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he pulled out his phone.

“You know I told you that Crash stayed a step ahead of us with the messaging apps — Snapchat, Signal, WhatsApp, whatever?”

“Yes.”

“One of my best tech guys found a message received on his ISP last night at 2:07 a.m. via a new app called Communicate Plus. It’s encrypted so the message and sender get automatically deleted a minute after the file is opened. I obviously don’t know the details, but somehow, don’t ask me how, my tech guy was able to get the tail end of the last message before it was erased.”

He handed Wilde his phone. The message read:

Of course I forgive you. I know you did that to fool your friends. I’m waiting at the same place right now. So excited!!!

There were three heart emojis at the end.

Wilde asked the obvious: “Do you know where the message came from or who sent it?”

“No. We know it had to be someone else with this app obviously, but the contact and incoming ISP or whatever gets deleted.”

Wilde stared at the message. He read it again.

“Did someone make a ransom demand?” Gavin asked.

“You said you already know.”

“What?”

“Your exact words were, ‘we know that there’s been a ransom demand.’ If you know, there’s no reason to ask me.”

“Can you stop being a pain in the ass for five minutes? Rusty wants to help.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“And we both know who wrote that message.”

He meant, of course, Naomi.

“Assuming you’re right,” Wilde said, “what do you want to do about it?”

“Did you check Naomi’s house?”

“I visited the father.”

“Did you check the whole house? Last time that’s where she was the whole time, right? In the basement?”

Wilde said nothing. He checked his watch. It was almost three p.m., an hour until the deadline. When they approached the gate in front of the Maynard house, Wilde said, “Thanks for the ride.”

“You know I’m right,” Gavin said.

“About?”

“About everything. You know Naomi is somehow involved in this.”

“Uh-huh. What else are you right about?”

He gave him the dagger glare. “That you and your sister can’t handle this alone.”

“I’m not calling the shots,” Wilde said.

“If you tell the Maynards to bring us back in, they’ll listen to you.”

Something here, something about this whole encounter, was definitely not adding up.

“Thanks for the ride, Gavin. Stay in touch.”