Just A Hint - Clint. Lori Foster
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straightforward. They’d be in touch soon on where and when to deliver the money. A quarter of a million dollars in exchange for Julie Rose’s life. If the cops were called, she’d die. No signature.
The note was plain enough. Why would there have been a follow-up phone call? Especially when no additional info was given.
Luckily the ransom amount, twenty times over, was held in a trust for her. Robert Burns claimed he had the money if it was needed to keep Julie alive. But Clint agreed with him on at least that much.
Paying would more likely ensure her death, rather than prevent it. Clint intended to have her safe and sound long before they could realize that no money was forthcoming.
“I thought Asa was the only possibility.” As Red drove, the landscape changed. The houses gradually grew smaller in scale and closer together.
“There are always other possibilities. It’s just that when Robert mentioned Asa…I dunno. It didn’t feel right.” As a small-time crook with big-time ambitions, Asa was a suspect. The man had a record a mile long and was certainly capable of real cruelty. One of the first things Clint had done was run a check on Asa. He was a scumbag, with prior connections to theft, possession of illegal arms, drug trafficking, assault and battery, extortion, and organized gambling. The list was long but had nothing on the scale of kidnapping. Asa ran his slum-area neighborhood like a warlord, but he’d never served maximum time.
It just didn’t set right with Clint. He didn’t want to waste time making false assumptions that could end up fatal—to Julie Rose.
Red drove and stole peeking glances at Clint at the same time. “So if he doesn’t have her, who does?”
“Not sure yet. But I want to talk to this Asa character. Julie’s been missing for twelve hours now. If I’m wrong and he does have her, maybe he’ll give something away.”
Red nodded. “I’ve got his address in here somewhere.” One-handed, Red began riffling through the printouts he’d collected on Asa Ragon the moment they’d accepted the case.
Clint had every confidence in Red. They’d known each other for a lifetime, along with Mojo Dray, and between the three of them, there wasn’t much they couldn’t accomplish. Though they hadn’t worked together in this capacity recently, not since…
Clint shook his head. He wouldn’t go there, not now. It’d only distract him when the last thing he needed was distractions. He’d missed the fieldwork, truth be known, and he sensed that Red and Mojo felt the same.
They were all more than able to dominate in a physical confrontation, but Red usually worked as the inside man, able to dredge up information from seemingly nowhere. What he didn’t know he could always find out through an intricate web of associations in and out of the police force.
He was six years Clint’s junior, taller, leaner, and according to Daisy, his new, deliriously happy wife, better looking.
With blond hair and blue eyes, Red had a misleading nickname. He’d been dubbed Red years ago after a fistfight, because his fair skin had turned florid and stayed that way for hours. Red was a mean son-of-a-bitch, except when it came to women. Then he was a complete and total pushover.
When it came to Daisy, he was a lamb.
Clint and Mojo both considered it a blessing to have their friend happily and safely married to a very nice girl. It had been far too common for women to take advantage of Red, and more common still for Red not to mind in the least. Daisy kept all other women away from him.
Mojo was quiet, the supply guy with barbaric tendencies. He never said much, but when he did, Clint listened. And whenever Clint needed something, anything, Mojo got it. Though Mojo wasn’t married, he was involved in a long-term relationship, and Clint suspected marriage would be next on the list.
Clint provided leadership, organization, and muscle. Though at thirty-eight, he considered retiring that last accolade. He also considered himself too old and far too settled in his ways to ever inflict his life on a woman. He had good old-fashioned brief affairs when he craved them, and that suited him just fine.
Clint tipped his head, looking at the photo of Julie Rose. Judging by what he could see of the upper-body shot, she was a very slender woman, to the point of being skinny. The idea of her being abused made his stomach lurch.
But then, the idea of her marrying that ass, Robert Burns, didn’t sit much better.
“Got it.” Red interrupted Clint’s thoughts by fanning a single sheet of paper. “I knew I had it in there somewhere. Asa lives downtown, in a not-so-nice area. Judging by the map, we’re about half an hour away. His house should be easy enough to spot. It’s on a cul-de-sac and has a black door, so we can’t miss it. You wanna visit?”
“Don’t sound so eager, Red. I just want to check around, see if I think he actually has Julie before we go tearing the place down.”
“Meaning you want to walk in alone, huh?”
Clint settled back in his seat and laid the photo, facedown, on his thigh. He stared out the window at the passing scenery. “I’ll be careful.”
Red pulled the minivan into traffic and headed for the highway ramp. “Why would Burns lie about it? You said he’s sure Asa has her, right?”
Robert had said that and more. When Clint had loomed over him, it wasn’t just to intimidate the worm. He’d used the moment to place a special bug against the phone on Robert’s desk. The high-tech listening device was voice activated, so any conversation, either in the room or on the telephone, would be recorded and saved until Clint retrieved it by the simple means of a cell phone call that worked like the message retrieval on a regular answering machine. The device could hold up to ninety hours’ worth of chitchat, but he’d check it long before then.
“I have no idea why he’d lie—yet. But I’ll find out.”
“So you’re sure he is lying?”
Clint rubbed his tired eyes. He’d gotten the call from Robert early that morning, and he’d been running ever since. It was crucial that they act quickly, so there’d been no time to slow down, to eat, or to indulge in quiet introspection.
The usual rush of adrenaline and anticipation had bombarded Clint. But the moment he’d seen Julie Rose’s soft eyes and sly smile in that small photograph, other more confusing emotions had invaded. They were starting to make him edgy.
“By nature, Robert Burns is an insincere, cowardly creep. Is he lying about this? Hell, I’m not sure. But I don’t like him, and I don’t like this whole setup.” Clint twisted in his seat to face Red. “If someone took Daisy—”
“The motherfucker would be dead already.”
Clint rolled his eyes. Red was so sick in love with his wife, he couldn’t bear for her to yawn.
“Yeah, right, that much I assumed. But if you were Robert Burns, with his money and influence, and someone took your fiancée, would you be worried about sparing her reputation?”
Red snorted. “I already answered this. Severed heads would roll.”
Because he couldn’t help himself, Clint turned the photo over and examined it yet again. He wasn’t sure what he looked for, but he’d know it if he saw it. “He claims she’s a runaround, that she’s wild at heart and gave her father nothing but grief.”
“Uh huh. The same father who endowed her with riches at his death?” Red’s tone dripped with sarcasm.
“Riches that are in a trust and inaccessible to her, or so Robert claims. But I believe him about that. Why else would a rich, young, pampered society babe choose to be a teacher, unless she couldn’t get to her own money?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. Remember that I’m more than capable of providing for my wife, yet she insists on working in a damn dirty factory.”
Clint grinned despite his gnawing