Bogart said, “Where do we start?”
“Well, as Alex and Todd suggested, the blackmailer had to have some connection to Dabney and Berkshire, however extenuated, even if Dabney and Berkshire didn’t know each other. The ‘third party’ would be the conduit between them. They had to know about the theft of secrets and they had to communicate with Dabney. They hopefully left enough of a trail for us to follow.”
“So we have to go back to square one,” said Milligan wearily.
“There are a couple of ways to attack this,” said Decker. “One is the Berkshire angle. If someone wanted her dead, there’s a good reason. That reason may lie in her exceptionally sketchy past. So we may be able to track down the blackmailer by digging more deeply into Berkshire’s history.”
“And the other way?” asked Jamison.
“Dabney. You’re not going to agree to kill someone without persuasion. And that sort of persuasion isn’t going to come in a tweet, text, or email, because I doubt anyone would write something like that down. So there had to be meetings with Dabney. We just have to find who they were with.”
Bogart said, “Why don’t Todd and I run that angle down. You and Jamison can hit it from the Berkshire end.”
Jamison nodded. “And we can compare notes along the way to see where we stand. Sound like a good plan, Decker?”
Decker sat there staring off.
“Amos, I said does that sound like a good plan?”
Decker finally stirred and looked at her as though he had just realized she was in the room. He said slowly, “I don’t know, Alex. I don’t know if anything sounds like a good plan right now.”
CHAPTER
27
WHEN DECKER AND JAMISON got home that night, someone was waiting for them. Danny Amaya looked pale and nervous.
said, “Danny, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my dad. He didn’t pick me up from school today.”
“How did you get home?”
“A friend’s mom drove me here.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, I was…I didn’t know what to do. I was scared.”
“It’ll be okay, Danny. We’ll come up with something.”
Jamison took his hand and led him up to their apartment. “Are you hungry?” she said.
He nodded, glancing anxiously at Decker.
“I’ll make you something to eat. Now, Danny, tell us anything you can that might help us find out where your dad is.” Jamison got busy in the kitchen and Danny sat at the bar watching her while Decker stood beside him.
“He dropped me at school today, like always.”
“Did he say anything to you then that might explain why he didn’t show up to get you later?” asked Decker.
“No, not that I can think of. I go to aftercare. And Dad is always there by six. But when he didn’t show up, I didn’t know what to do.”
“Do you have a phone?” asked Jamison.
Danny shook his head. “My dad has one, but it’s too expensive for me to have one too.”
“But couldn’t you use a friend’s phone to call your dad?”
“I did. I borrowed a phone and called, but no one answered.”
Jamison said, “Okay, for now, we’re going to call the police and they can start looking for your father.”
Decker said, “I can go over to the construction site where he works. You told us where it is. Near the waterfront.”
Danny nodded.
Jamison stopped slicing up a tomato for a salad she was making and said, “Decker, you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I’m not going to do anything dangerous. I’m just going to take a look at the place, that’s all. If I see anything suspicious, I’ll call the cops.” He held out his hand. “I’ll have to take your car, Alex.”
She drew the keys from her jacket pocket but hesitated handing them over. “You promise nothing dangerous?”
“Promise.”
Decker looked at Danny. “What exactly does your father do, Danny, at the construction site?”
“Lots of things. He’s a bricklayer mostly. He’s really good at it.”
“I’ll be back shortly.”
*
A minute later Decker wedged himself into Jamison’s car and drove off. It only took about fifteen minutes to reach the construction site. It was well dark now and Decker couldn’t see anyone around. The buildings on either side of his destination looked to be in the process of being torn down. This whole area was undergoing a vast renovation.
A chilly wind whistled in between buildings. Decker parked on the street across from the site and drew up the collar of his jacket. He took a minute to look all around. He still didn’t see anyone. And he also didn’t see Amaya’s Sentra parked anywhere.
He jogged across the street and stood in front of the unfinished building. The exterior walls were up and concrete floors had been poured. Decker counted twelve floors. Construction elevators were grafted to the concrete skeleton like tendons on bone.
He maneuvered through some barriers, stepped through an opening, and stared around at the empty first floor. He was very surprised there were no security guards on site here. He put one hand on his pistol and pulled a flashlight from his other pocket. He shone it around but saw nothing except stacks of construction material.
He glimpsed a set of steps leading down to the floors belowground. He debated whether to do this, but decided he had to. For all he knew Amaya might be down there hurt or even dead.
He walked down the steps and reached the lower floor. He pointed his light around and saw that the space here was partially completed. There was a hole in the floor in the far corner, and stacks of bricks set against one wall. When he looked down, he saw that the floor was mortared brick laid over a concrete slab.
The next moment he heard a noise and killed his light. He moved to a corner and listened. He thought he heard voices, but he couldn’t make out any words.
Then came footsteps.
Then came a light.
Decker moved back farther into the shadows.
Four men appeared on the stairs. They were carrying something.
When Decker saw what it was, his hand went to his phone.
It was clearly a body.
They carried it over next to the hole and set it down. Then a light one of the men was holding flicked around the space.
That’s when Decker saw a very nervous-looking Tomas Amaya. His face was bruised and bloody.
Two of the men had guns out. They pointed them at Amaya and he and the fourth man lifted the body and placed it into the hole.
“Preparar el hormigón.”
Decker’s Spanish wasn’t that good, but he didn’t need it to be.
Amaya lifted up a bag of cement mix, cut it open, and poured it into a portable mixer. He added water and turned the machine on. Meanwhile, the other man had taken the body and dumped it into the hole.
It was now clear what was going to happen.
And why they needed Amaya.
He was going to put the concrete in the hole and then brick it over, seamlessly matching, no doubt, the work he had already done here.
That was why they wanted him.