Murray handed Jake Styles the list of potential hiding places that one Calvin Frederick Reston might use if he was desperate. The list totaled fourteen likely sites and twenty-three other possibles. "I'm sorry, that's the best I could do."
Cody sighed at the length of the list, but Styles didn't seem discouraged. "No, this is a lot better than I expected. Reston has a huge extended family. And he's been working with that bunch of crooks for a long time—lots of people might owe him favors."
Murray perked up a little despite the obvious disappointment in his inability to narrow the list substantially. He glanced back up—and did double take. Cody sympathized; he kept having to remind himself as well that it wasn't Nick. The clothes Styles was now wearing removed most of what distinguished him visually from their partner, and it was hard to remember that Nick was missing. Otherwise, this would almost seem like a regular case.
Boz spoke up, "Jake, you know Reston; are there any locations on the list that seem unlikely to you? I listed the cross reference that made the connection to Reston seem like a good possibility."
"Yeah, maybe. I think his uncle sold this restaurant. And I'm not sure that his brother-in-law didn't close this place. Of course, he might still own the building even if the business is closed down." Styles offered a half grin—that looked just like Nick. "This is good, Murray. I think it's gonna help a lot."
Murray breathed a slightly relieved sigh.
Cody still felt tense and worried, but Murray needed a pat on the back, "Thanks, Boz. You did good."
Murray shrugged slightly, clearly disregarding his contribution. "So where do we start?"
Styles—not Nick—looked at him carefully. "You're not gonna like this, but since you're able to make this computer sit up and beg, could you do one of these cross searches on Ray Cinnamon and Paul Smelcer?"
Murray bristled in frustration. He managed to hold his tongue and turned to Cody for support. "I want to help you look for Nick; he's my friend, too."
Cody ran a hand through his hair. "I know, Boz. But what if it's not Cinnamon's guys that have Nick? What if it's Smelcer? What if we don't find that ledger? We won't have anything to bargain with. I know you want to be out there beating the bushes, but we gotta have a fallback if we don't find that ledger."
Murray pushed his glasses up to his forehead and rubbed his eyes. Cody knew how hard it was for him to stay behind sometimes, but they needed a Plan B, and Cody hoped Boz would understand and agree. Murray finally nodded despite his obvious upset, "Okay. But you have to call me, Cody—even if you don't find anything. I need to know."
Cody smiled gratefully. He looked back at Jake Styles, "You ready?"
RIPTIDE
Nick pulled the ugly Oldsmobile into a strip mall a few miles from the coast. The thugs had seen his ID; they wouldn't have any problem finding the Riptide. Even his addled brain could add those two facts and get a total that equaled disaster.
Considering his balky ribs, he did a pretty decent job searching the car. Everything except some old napkins went in various pockets. He still didn't know anything about who these guys were, but maybe Murray could piece something together with all these bits and pieces he was carrying back.
He locked the keys in the car and limped across the parking lot to a pay phone. He dropped in a quarter and dialed the boat, praying his partners were at home waiting on him.
No such luck. He left them a message and started limping down the street toward the best safe house he could think of.
About a mile down the road, a guy in a cement truck offered him a ride. Nick was a little surprised, considering how disreputable he must look. He hadn't even bothered sticking out his thumb.
"You okay, buddy? You look like you need a hospital."
Nick looked at his Good Samaritan, "I'm breathing; I'm walking. Hospital can't do much about the rest of this stuff anyway."
The guy looked doubtful but managed a brief smile. "I guess. Least I can give you a lift. Where can I drop you?"
Nick gave him directions for the last few miles to his destination.
When they arrived, the guy tried one more time. "Are you sure? Hospital's just another few minutes."
Nick had to give him credit for the guardian angel gig. "No, thanks, but I appreciate the offer. My buddy says I don't have enough sense to come in out of the rain."
"I'd say he's right. Take care, man."
Nick nodded and eased out of the cab. As the truck pulled away, he turned and looked at his home away from home, beyond glad to see it again. Now he just needed his partners to come get him—then he'd really be home. He took a slightly deeper breath and started across the lot.
RIPTIDE
Cody was discouraged as he followed Jake Styles back into the crammed offices of the Prosecuting Attorney. They headed directly back to McCabe's office, picking up Murray and Derek Mitchell on the way.
McCabe eyed the group. "Well, what have you found?"
"Nothing, J. L. Nothing on Reston, the ledger, or Nick Ryder. Cody and I searched the top five sites on Murray's list. And I had other guys drop in on the other possibles. No dice."
Mitchell interjected, "The Organized Crime Task Force has been noticing some disquiet in the local ranks. They had a report of a disturbance at one of Smelcer's warehouses down on Highland."
McCabe nailed Mitchell with an intense, focused, irritated glare. "What kind of disturbance?" he demanded.
Mitchell glanced at his notes. "A greenish, four-door sedan smashed through a garage door and almost caused a wreck as it fled the scene. No make or model, but one of the other drivers said he thought the car was a GM. Lots of communication between interested parties after that."
He growled, "Is that all?"
"'Fraid so, sir." Mitchell acted like he was used to disappointing McCabe.
"Mr. Bozinsky, how are you doing on that second list?"
Cody thought that Murray might be a little intimidated by the man's bark, but Boz adjusted his glasses and answered in his normal voice and manner. "Well, this list is taking longer. It's much more extensive with all the properties presently and previously owned by Paul Smelcer. Add to that Ray Cinnamon's real estate and all their known family and associates, and the holding companies involved. The collating and cross referencing are taking longer to sort."
Cody reached up to squeeze Murray's shoulder in support.
McCabe softened slightly, "Nothing from your partner yet?"
Cody closed his eyes briefly, feeling swamped by despair. And almost immediately reminded himself that Nick was the toughest, most stubborn son of a gun he'd ever met. He'd find a way to survive even if it was just pure cussedness that sustained him.
"I should check the messages on the boat again." Murray hesitated slightly as he reached for the phone on McCabe's desk, but he got go-ahead permission with a wave of the Fatman's cigar.
Cody stood waiting, not really expecting anything, but Murray's eyes lit up. "Cody! Listen!"
Mitchell reached for the phone and put it on speaker. Cody felt a release in his chest when he heard Nick's voice, breathy and worn out, echo through the room.
"I'm going to see my girl. Pick me up when you can. And stay away from the boat if you're not already there."
Cody's hope surged—hell, it sky-rocketed! He grinned at Murray and grabbed him in a fast hug. "Let's go."
Styles caught his elbow, "Hang on, you two. We need back up. Your partner's a witness now; he's gonna need protection. And if Smelcer and Cinnamon find out where he's holed up, then his girlfriend will need protection, too."
Cody tried to swallow his laugh at the misunderstanding.
Murray grinned like he'd just won the lottery. "Nick doesn't have a girlfriend right now."
Mitchell pursed his lips, "But the message…"
The other two men in the room looked just as puzzled, but Cody was done standing around. "Get your backup and let's go. Nick's waiting on us."