Deceived - Laura S. Wharton Page 0,71
Lisa—”
“Don’t go there, Sam.”
“Look, Chief; we need to know all the players, here. Why would Mike get a cut of it if Lisa wasn’t, you know, involved?”
“Who said he’s involved? Maybe he’s just a hostage, like Chuck. Maybe Lisa’s being held now against her will.” Chief sounded almost hopeful.
“Not likely. She was a mule. You said so yourself. No, I think she’s in it up to her eyeballs. I’m just trying to figure out how deep Chuck and Mike were in on it. It could make a difference for all of them.” Sam eased into the Mustang and waited for Chief to do the same.
“Let’s go find out.” Chief was almost chipper.
Sam didn’t like the look in Chief’s eyes, but he decided having someone on his team—even someone half-crazy—was better than no one at all.
“Where’s your car, Chief?”
“Down the street. I parked there in case Lisa had company…. I didn’t want her to see me coming, I guess.”
Sam drove past Chief’s car on the way out of the neighborhood, then stopped and backed up.
“What kind of supplies you got in there?”
“Standard issue.” Chief paused and smiled. “And a little something extra.”
“Bring whatever you got. We may need it.”
Chief returned to the Mustang in seconds with the standard issue Glock and a towel-wrapped pump action patrol rifle, unwrapping the latter briefly to show Sam.
“Impressive. From your own personal collection?”
“Something like that. Do you know what we’re up against?”
Sam popped the trunk. Chief carefully laid his Remington inside and closed the trunk.
“Mike and Chuck are carrying their standard issues,” Sam recounted as he drove south down the beach road and past the aquarium entrance. He turned right into the Fort Fisher Ferry landing’s parking lot, got a ticket, and parked in a line waiting to board the ferry. “One of the hostages was able to make off with Tripp Johnson’s gun at the gallery, but I suspect he’s taken it back. I don’t know about Andy. He wasn’t showing.”
Three cars were in front of Sam and Chief as they waited for the just-docking ferry to unload cars.
Without turning, Sam asked the question that had plagued him all day. “Chief, you said in your office that you were following orders. Whose orders?”
“Commissioner Martin. He said he was just following orders, but one can’t tell with Martin. I didn’t have the spine to stand him down. He said if I questioned him again, I’d be out, just like that. I’ve worked for a lot of years toward a comfortable retirement with full pension, and I wasn’t about to screw that up because someone has it in for you. What did you do to Martin, anyway?”
“Not anything I’m aware of. Did he tell you to do anything other than bug my car or crush the Camaro before the case was closed?”
“No. But either way, I should have stood up to him. Shoulda told him no. You’re a good cop, Sam. I see now you didn’t have anything to do with Lee’s death.”
“Doesn’t matter now. What does matter is we have to get to Johnson’s.”
The khaki-clad ferry attendant signaled for Sam to move forward. Sam slowly rolled the Mustang onto the ferry; blocks were set under his wheels, and he was instructed to turn his engine off.
When Sam and Chief climbed the ladder to the upper deck, they walked to a railing away from the other passengers.
“Who are we looking for, exactly?” Chief leaned over the rail.
“Lee’s wife, Jenny Elliott; Molly Monroe, a…my friend who accidentally got messed up in all of this; Lisa, Chuck, Mike, Andy, and Tripp Johnson.”
“What makes you think they’re in Southport?”
“Two reasons. First, Mike let the Scuz Brothers, who accompanied Andy to the gallery, take his forty-two-foot sailboat Moonglow out for a spin. The Coast Guard picked them up heading south down the ditch, and they were armed and ready. Second, the fishery is the only place I can think of where they’d be holding hostages without anybody stopping by to see what’s going on.”
“Holding or disposing?”
“Probably preparing to dispose.” Sam bit his lip, imagining what Jenny and Molly were going through. “Molly and Jenny surprised Lisa at the gallery. She was getting ready to take flight with two suitcases of cash. I can’t believe she kept that much around.”
“Can’t just walk into a bank with two suitcases, now can you?” Chief was back to his old cantankerous self.
“Suppose not. There were plenty of places she could have hid it in the gallery. In hollow display pedestals, art pieces, wherever. She