William Bernhardt - Double Jeopardy

“Well, I haven’t.”

“You need help, Travis. You can’t handle this on your own.”

“I’m not … entirely on my own—”

“Does that mean Cavanaugh is with you?”

That caught him off guard. “What makes you think—”

“That’s Charles Hagedorn’s idea. Cavanaugh disappeared about twenty-four hours after you did. Didn’t show up for some meetings today with Washington bigwigs. Put the U.S. Attorney’s Office into a frenzy.”

“So why would the judge connect that to me?”

“Well, it’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? The attorneys on both sides of a high-profile case disappearing? Just after the defendant does. Hagedorn’s notion is that you kidnapped her to prevent the Moroconi case from being tried in absentia.”

“That’s the lamest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“I agree, but that hasn’t stopped the judge from spreading it around town. Your reputation is going into the dumper in a hurry, Travis. I’ve managed to keep the judge from filing a bar grievance until we can sort this out, but your failure to appear is not helping anything. Did I tell you the judge issued a contempt citation against you?”

“Yup.”

“And still you won’t appear? My God, you’re in deliberate contempt of court. You might as well take your law license and tear it into tiny little pieces!”

Travis closed his eyes. This was not helping. “Dan, I want you and Gail to leave town.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“You heard me. I already told Gail to take a vacation. At your expense. Take it out of my salary-deferral fund. I’ll sign the papers when I can. And I want you to leave, too.”

“And who would run this office?”

“I don’t care. Shut it down if you have to. Just get out of there.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m afraid these killers will try to get at me through you.”

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy and protracted. Travis could almost hear him deliberating. “All right. If you want us to make ourselves scarce, we will. But let’s all go together. Let me meet you somewhere safe.”

“No can do,” Travis said. “It’s too risky.”

“We’ll go directly to the airport.”

“No. If I leave Dallas, I’ll never get to the bottom of this. Besides, I’m trying to get you out of danger, and traveling with me would have the opposite effect.”

“Travis—”

“That’s my final word, Dan. Things are bad already, and I think they’re about to get worse. I want you and Gail out.”

Dan sighed, resigned. “Fine. We’ll go.”

“Thank you. Oh, and can you do me another favor?”

“I live to please,” he said wearily.

“Check on Staci. If she can’t leave town by herself, I’m going to ask her to meet you. You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”

“Of course. If you’ll promise to come see me as soon as you can.”

“Thanks, Dan. I owed you before, but now, even more so. I won’t forget this.”

He disconnected the line.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Cavanaugh said, tapping her watch. “Don’t talk so long next time.”

Travis mumbled an incomprehensible answer and dialed another number.

51

8:25 P.M.

FORTUNATELY, SHE ANSWERED THE phone herself.

“Hello, Staci?”

“Oh my gosh. Travis? Is that really you?”

“Yes. Now listen—”

“Travis, where are you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Travis, you’ve been in all the papers.”

“I know, honey. Listen—”

“Travis … those things they’re saying … They aren’t true, are they?”

“Of course not, honey—”

“Aunt Marnie says they are. She says she was always suspicious of you. She says it isn’t natural for a guy your age to be so interested in a teenage girl.”

That never prevented Aunt Marnie from accepting the money I gave her, Travis thought. He wondered if any of it got spent on Staci. “Sweetheart, listen to me. This is very important.”

“I knew something was wrong when you asked Doc and Jameel to break into your own apartment. Someone’s trying to hurt you, right?”

“Staci, just listen—”

“Tell me where you are, Travis. I’m coming.”

“ No ! Absolutely not! Now listen to me.” He heard her steady, expectant breathing as she quieted. “You’re right, people are trying to hurt me, and I’m afraid they might try to get at me through my friends and”—he swallowed—“loved ones. So I want you to leave Dallas.”

“Leave Dallas? Where would I go?”

“What about your uncle Jacko? In Oregon.”

“Uncle Jacko? He’s not even a real uncle.”

“Can you think of anyone else?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Jacko it is, then. Dan will make your travel arrangements.” He gave her the phone number. “If you need any money, use that credit card I gave you last year for emergencies.”

“What if Aunt Marnie won’t let me go?”

Travis swore silently. This was advice he hated to give. “Go anyway,” he said softly.

“Okay. Wow.”

“Are you writing all this down?”

“I can remember.”

He only hoped that was true. But at times her attention disorder was extremely pronounced—her powers of concentration were low and she couldn’t be expected to retain anything. “This is very important, honey. Don’t mess around. And don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

“I don’t like this, Travis,” she said. “It’s not right running off when you’re in trouble.”

“It is right, honey. It’s the most right thing you can possibly do.” He exhaled, much relieved. “I can’t stay on this line any longer. I’m going to hang up.”

“Travis?”

“Yes?”

She stalled, apparently unable to say what she wanted to say. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

“If you don’t come see me soon, I’ll punch your lights out!”

“Understood.” He hung up the phone and climbed back in the car with Cavanaugh. “Now. We need to talk to that Elcon corporate president, but I suppose we’ll have to wait until morning. In the meantime, let’s find a safe place to catch some shut-eye. I wouldn’t object to getting something to eat, either.”

“Any suggestions?”

“No. I don’t know what’s safe.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I don’t understand how these people keep finding me wherever I go.”

“Well, we have to stay somewhere, so pick a place.”

Travis shrugged. “Cheap motel.”

“Fine. Just don’t make it the Million Dollar.”

“Deal.” Travis glanced uneasily into the rearview mirror.

Cavanaugh leaned closer to him. “You think someone’s following us?”

Travis thought a long time before answering. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I just don’t know.”

“Did you get it?”

The technician pressed the headphones closer to his ears. “I think so. …”

Kramer slapped him brutally across the side of his face, knocking him out of his chair. “Don’t tell me what you think, goddamn it! I need results!”

The technician lay sprawled on the floor of the truck, stunned. “I’m—I’m sorry. I got it. Every word.”

“When is she leaving? Where is she going?”

Crawling back to his feet, the technician related everything he had heard.

“Then there’s still time.”

“Do you want me to arrange for some of the boys to meet her?”

“No,” Kramer replied. “I’ve depended on assistants far too much already. I’m going to take care of her myself.”

The technician tossed the headphones down beside the recorder. He felt nauseated—not from the blow, but from the thought of Kramer “taking care of” a teenage girl. “I don’t understand, sir. How will this help you find Byrne?”