Read Online Smoke & Mirrors by John Ramsey Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Ramsey Miller
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Revenge, United States Marshals, Murder - Investigation, Snipers, Mississippi
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Winter asked.
“The kids. Leigh wouldn’t leave Jacob a ten-dollar bill.”
“Maybe not. But who do you suppose would be their guardian if Leigh Gardner was dead?”
Brad sat up. “The killer shot her babysitter. Leigh wasn’t even in the area. What are you thinking?”
“Maybe the killer didn’t know that.”
18
ALEXA KEEN OPENED HER APARTMENT DOOR AND had to put down her bag of groceries to answer the telephone. It was rare that her phone rang unless it was someone from the Bureau.
“Yes?” she said.
“Alexa?” a familiar voice asked.
“Sean,” Alexa said. “Hello.”
“How are you, Lex?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
The silence lasted too long. She put down her shoulder bag, made heavy by the Glock. “Sean, is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Where are the kids?” she asked.
“In the next room. We’re at the Peabody. We’ve been trying to decide on places to visit, but it’s really cold and the kids are ready to go home.”
“Winter told me you were going back to North Carolina.”
“Then you’ve talked to him today?”
“He told me about Faith Ann’s deer. I guess she’s excited.”
“And did he mention the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“The toothpick.”
“Yes, he told me about it,” Alexa said.
“The DNA results are on their way to the lab for a comparison. If it’s Styer’s, I’m not sure Winter is up to dealing with him. Lex, he’ll kill Winter without thinking.”
“Styer?” Alexa heard her voice crack. “Paulus Styer?”
“He didn’t tell you he’s comparing the DNA to the sample he has for Styer?”
“He left that part out,” Alexa said, apprehension and dread mushrooming inside her. Paulus Styer was one frightening son of a bitch, and she’d thought he was gone for good.
“Because he knew you’d go ballistic on him.”
Damned right I would have. Good Christ! “Sean, you shouldn’t worry. Winter knows what he’s doing.” Alexa hoped she sounded convinced of her words.
“I’m sorry to pour this out on you. It’s just that there’s nobody else Winter will listen to. If I told Hank Trammel, you couldn’t stop the old buzzard from going there with a tank. And he can barely walk.”
“Sean, I’m gonna go down,” Alexa said suddenly. “I have some time off coming to me, and if Styer is involved, I want to be there.”
“That isn’t why I called. I just wanted to talk to somebody who knows Winter and understands the situation. I shouldn’t have called you. You don’t need to go there.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you should have called me. I love that old dog too.”
“I know you do.” Sean’s voice sounded uncharacteristically faint.
“I’m not in the middle of anything at the moment, except writing a procedural manual nobody is going to read. I’ll just go down there for a couple of days and watch his back. I won’t tell him I know Styer may be involved. He can tell me that when I get there.”
“I should argue with you, but I won’t. Be careful. He’ll kill you, too.”
“No, Sean, he won’t.”
After some small talk, Alexa hung up. She dialed her travel agent’s number from memory and made a reservation for the next flight to Memphis.
19
TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD JACK BEALS, A SECURITY officer for the Roundtable, had tailed the kid in the yellow V-neck sweater straight to the Gold Key Motel, a few miles from the casino. The gambler’s name was David Scotoni, a single twenty-three-year-old resident of Reno, Nevada, whose ID checked out as legit. Turned out that the reason a man who lived in a town filled with casinos would fly across the country to gamble was predictable—he was known in Reno as a card counter.
Counting cards wasn’t illegal, but it gave the player an unfair advantage and was grounds for a casino to invite you to leave and put your mug in the black book system shared by casinos across the country. Scotoni had cashed out his chips to the tune of
“The kids. Leigh wouldn’t leave Jacob a ten-dollar bill.”
“Maybe not. But who do you suppose would be their guardian if Leigh Gardner was dead?”
Brad sat up. “The killer shot her babysitter. Leigh wasn’t even in the area. What are you thinking?”
“Maybe the killer didn’t know that.”
18
ALEXA KEEN OPENED HER APARTMENT DOOR AND had to put down her bag of groceries to answer the telephone. It was rare that her phone rang unless it was someone from the Bureau.
“Yes?” she said.
“Alexa?” a familiar voice asked.
“Sean,” Alexa said. “Hello.”
“How are you, Lex?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
The silence lasted too long. She put down her shoulder bag, made heavy by the Glock. “Sean, is everything all right?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Where are the kids?” she asked.
“In the next room. We’re at the Peabody. We’ve been trying to decide on places to visit, but it’s really cold and the kids are ready to go home.”
“Winter told me you were going back to North Carolina.”
“Then you’ve talked to him today?”
“He told me about Faith Ann’s deer. I guess she’s excited.”
“And did he mention the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“The toothpick.”
“Yes, he told me about it,” Alexa said.
“The DNA results are on their way to the lab for a comparison. If it’s Styer’s, I’m not sure Winter is up to dealing with him. Lex, he’ll kill Winter without thinking.”
“Styer?” Alexa heard her voice crack. “Paulus Styer?”
“He didn’t tell you he’s comparing the DNA to the sample he has for Styer?”
“He left that part out,” Alexa said, apprehension and dread mushrooming inside her. Paulus Styer was one frightening son of a bitch, and she’d thought he was gone for good.
“Because he knew you’d go ballistic on him.”
Damned right I would have. Good Christ! “Sean, you shouldn’t worry. Winter knows what he’s doing.” Alexa hoped she sounded convinced of her words.
“I’m sorry to pour this out on you. It’s just that there’s nobody else Winter will listen to. If I told Hank Trammel, you couldn’t stop the old buzzard from going there with a tank. And he can barely walk.”
“Sean, I’m gonna go down,” Alexa said suddenly. “I have some time off coming to me, and if Styer is involved, I want to be there.”
“That isn’t why I called. I just wanted to talk to somebody who knows Winter and understands the situation. I shouldn’t have called you. You don’t need to go there.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you should have called me. I love that old dog too.”
“I know you do.” Sean’s voice sounded uncharacteristically faint.
“I’m not in the middle of anything at the moment, except writing a procedural manual nobody is going to read. I’ll just go down there for a couple of days and watch his back. I won’t tell him I know Styer may be involved. He can tell me that when I get there.”
“I should argue with you, but I won’t. Be careful. He’ll kill you, too.”
“No, Sean, he won’t.”
After some small talk, Alexa hung up. She dialed her travel agent’s number from memory and made a reservation for the next flight to Memphis.
19
TWENTY-NINE-YEAR-OLD JACK BEALS, A SECURITY officer for the Roundtable, had tailed the kid in the yellow V-neck sweater straight to the Gold Key Motel, a few miles from the casino. The gambler’s name was David Scotoni, a single twenty-three-year-old resident of Reno, Nevada, whose ID checked out as legit. Turned out that the reason a man who lived in a town filled with casinos would fly across the country to gamble was predictable—he was known in Reno as a card counter.
Counting cards wasn’t illegal, but it gave the player an unfair advantage and was grounds for a casino to invite you to leave and put your mug in the black book system shared by casinos across the country. Scotoni had cashed out his chips to the tune of
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