20.
~ It felt like some sort of party was being planned and Alex was being left out of it. Almost as if the DEA and FBI agents involved were a bunch of middle school girls who wanted to purposefully excluded him and hurt his feelings. Always casting him sly and spiteful looks as if wanting him to intrude so they could rebuff him.
All of them were wanting to have done with White Pine Bay, find Bob Paris and were still a little angry that the local Sheriff had somehow gotten away with lying to them.
"It's just because of your past relationship with Miss Hamilton, Alex." his lawyer reminded him for the hundredth time. "They don't want to take the risk of you tipping her off."
"After I gave her up?" Alex reminded him darkly.
His lawyer looked properly scolded and Alex noticed the welled fitted suit that probably cost more than his last three paychecks.
"We're just going to stay out of the way. Remember? That's what they agreed would be your role. We're hoping that if all goes well, Miss Hamilton will lead us to Bob Paris. It's entirely possible she'd been hiding him out somewhere. Happy ending for everyone." his lawyer said hopefully.
"That would be nice." Alex said in a dead monotone.
"I don't need to tell you that several of the DEA leaders think you tipped Bob Paris off. Helped him escape. I reminded them that he hasn't turned up at any airport and even if he flew privately, customs still would have had to check him in." his lawyer went on. Although to Alex the details about customs and security cameras that scanned through skin and read facial bones was turning into white noise. It hardly mattered about Bob Paris or his bones anymore. He knew for a fact it was very cold and dark where those bones now rested.
"Sheriff?" a light and professional voice barked at him and Alex turned to see the DEA agent that had planned the Bob Paris raid.
"Yes?" Alex said dryly.
"We've turned off the bank's phone and internet access till we complete the raid. As well as Miss Hamilton's cell phone. You placed a call to a Seattle number last night. What for?" she demanded harshly.
Alex looked at his lawyer who nodded for him to answer.
"That was to my step-son. Dylan. I gave him instructions with my lawyer present and recording the conversation, to come to the house today and collect his mother, my wife, before noon." Alex explained.
"Why is that?" the agent demanded. Clearly he already suspected Alex had tampered with her raid again.
"I don't want my wife here when the raid happens." Alex explained cooly. "I want my step-son to take her out of town."
"Mrs. Romero knows nothing about the raid, Agent." the lawyer finally chimed in. "And Sheriff Romero has already handed in his cell phone in full cooperation."
The agent glared at Alex and the lawyer. She didn't trust him and was sorry she'd missed the opportunity to arrest him for lying to another federal agent.
"We'll be sure to get his phone back after this is all over." the lawyer in the expensive suit called to her when she turned to leave them.
Overpriced or not, this lawyer was like a finish shark. Attacking so Alex didn't have to and seeming to think of everything.
It had been his suggestion to have Norma removed from town for the time being.
"Just in case the worse should happen and someone decides to do something stupid." he'd said. Alex hadn't thought of it. Hadn't been used to thinking of anyone but himself in situations like these, but he'd been grateful the lawyer had suggested it. Grateful that Dylan hadn't questioned him and had come right away when he called.
~ Norma had been surprised and delighted to see Dylan show up at her doorstep that morning. She hadn't expected Alex to leave so early without warning for work and now her son was telling her she needed to pack a bag and come stay with him and Emma in Seattle for a few days.
Her son gave her a boyish grin and a shrug.
"Romero said to come and get you." he explained. He even hefted her heavy suitcase down the stairs and didn't complain that she'd packed too much.
"I don't understand." Norma said again. "What's happening? Is it Norman?"
"No." Dylan said quickly.
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
"Well, then how do you know it's not Norman?"
"He wouldn't have me take you to Seattle, Norma." Dylan reasoned safely stowing her suitcase in the back seat of his truck and opening her door as if taking her on a date.
"Did he tell you anything else?" Norma asked worriedly. She hated the idea of Dylan and Alex talking about her behind her back.
"Just that it was important you come stay with me and he would meet us there when it was over." he said hastily.
"When what was over?" Norma said suddenly feeling cranky. She could feel a headache coming on and she was tried and didn't want to put up with a long drive. She wanted to go back into the house, close the curtains and take a long nap. She didn't want to stay at a strange place with no explanation as to why.
Before Dylan could answer, a line of unmarked black SUVs drove past the motel. They were flashing blue and red lights and were headed into the village at a high rate of speed.
Norma and Dylan exchanged identical looks.
"Is Alex in danger?" she asked her son worriedly.
"I don't think so." he said honestly. "But he wants you to come with me. He wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important."
For once, Norma didn't argue. She did make Dylan pull over at a few time along the way. Her son's driving on the slick streets made the cab lurch too much and she felt slightly seasick.
She told him she just needed air and to walk a little. Thankful that she didn't throw up in front of him, but only because she hadn't eaten anything that day or the night before.
~ A few days after the raid on Bob Paris' lake house, Rebecca had come to this isolated cabin in the woods to look for him. It was fully stocked and off grid. A survivalist had built it and sold it to Bob for cash about two years ago.
Rebecca was the only one who knew about it and when Bob had vanished, she fully expected him to turn up there. The once great man hiding out like a rat and using a composting toilet and wood burning stove.
But when she found the little cabin was empty and nothing was disturbed, she started to suspect Bob had met an untimely end. Bob Paris had many enemies. Pimps he owed money to, women who liked him too much. Women who hated him too much. Men who were promised too much. There was no shortage of people who were ready to kill Bob Paris. But Rebecca suspected Alex Romero to have finally pulled the trigger.
Alex was the only one who had the balls to do it after all. Everyone else was all talk.
It was more than just Bob controlling the police force in this town. Bob was doing things that Alex just couldn't look the other way on anymore. Even bringing in a new Sheriff in the form of Marcus Young had failed miserably. Marcus Young himself turning up missing after strutting around town and shaking hands with all the powerful people. Bragging that he would replace the great Sheriff Alex Romero soon.
Now, Bob had threatened Alex and perhaps he'd even threatened Norma Bates. That might have been enough to seal his fate. Alex was a pretty mellow guy till you crossed him. Rebecca had guessed, when she found the cabin was empty, that Alex had done away with Bob Paris and no one would ever find his body.
She had searched the cabin for the run money. About three hundred thousand dollars in cash, fake passports and his bank key of course. She'd prepared the run bag herself and even found the connections to make the fake passports, but the bag had been moved.
That meant Bob was running without her, or he'd moved it a long time ago. The plan was always for them to meet here, but somewhere along the way, Bob must have decided he couldn't trust her and changed his plans. Leaving her high and dry.
Looking over the cabin now, she was thankful that Bob Paris hadn't survived and she had this place to run to now. Although she had no money, no fake ID's and no way out of White Pine Bay. At least none that she could think of right now.
It was a small but efficient cabin. Built to run off of minimal electricity generated from solar panels on the roof. It had running water from a spring nearby and proper bathroom facilities that didn't require hard plumbing. She'd certainly lived in worse places and she'd be warm and well hidden. No one knew about this place. Even the road to get here wasn't well known and she had to hike a good ways.
Before she went into the forest, she traded cars. Her expensive car having a GPS and she knew a fellow bank employee who had an old pick up in his carport that he used exclusively for hunting and the owners had done a homemade job of camouflage paint on the exterior. It was equipped with 4wheel drive and could make it up the mountain trail. Best part of it was, the truck pre-dated GPS and once it was gone, couldn't be tracked. The second best part was that she knew her co-worker left the keys to his truck under the visor in case his son needed to borrow it.
It was odd driving the huge truck down the village and out to the disused trail. She was used to a more luxury car with power steering and heat. Several times she almost lost control and ran off the road.
It took her a long time to remember where the cabin was. Things looked different with the snow and in her panic to find safety. At last she found the trial and left the truck. It's green and brown paint, although hideous, was effective in blending in with the trees and brush. No one would find it. She arrived at the cabin after a short walk in her impractical heels and saw it was as abandoned and sad as ever. It would be her home for the foreseeable future.
At least till she could figure out what to do next.
~ Rebecca Hamilton had gone missing and all eyes were on Sheriff Romero. It was felt he'd warned her somehow and given her the heads up that there would be a raid on the bank. Yet, no one could prove it and when her home was searched, there was nothing to indicate she'd packed a bag or made travel plans.
Only an immaculately clean apartment with the bed made and the closet neatly organized. Not even a dirty dish in the sink of the slightest trace of clutter on her bathroom vanity.
Federal agents noted she didn't pack because she'd left her birth control behind as well as other personal items people naturally took with them when traveling.
Her passport, a well as a used suitcase with airport tags still on them. A good pair of shoes which were sitting neatly by the door and obviously Rebecca's everyday at home shoes.
Her mother hadn't heard from her since Christmas and had no idea where she was. The old woman was disabled and living in a trailer park in Indiana and could hardly walk. Even before the oxygen tank at her side, she'd been in bad shape.
Rebecca's car was found a day after the raid near the home of one of her coworkers. His old 88' chevy pick up truck had gone missing but he'd assumed his son had borrowed it and had been slow to report it as stolen. Then a letter carrier had found her cell phone in a post office drop box. It had been turned off so the FBI couldn't ping it.
After investigating for several months, by this time Sherif Romero was no longer with the Sheriff's department, Rebecca Hamilton was declared missing and a person of interest in the disappearance of Bob Paris. It wasn't unthinkable that she'd helped him escape. Not with the copious amounts of evidence the DEA and FBI had found at her bank.
The cash was just the beginning. She'd been very busy and very clever about laundering money for Bob Paris as well as Nick Ford and other big names in town.
Her personal effects, not related to the case, were sent to her mother in Indiana. Most notably a series of well loved scrapbooks where Mrs. Hamilton had meticulously documented her daughters pageant days and early modeling career.
"I was so proud of her." Mrs. Hamilton kept saying when she received the boxes of scrapbooks she and her daughter had put together themselves. "No just anyone could do what she did. I certainly couldn't have. She was better than me. Stronger than me."
The federal agents noted that Mrs. Hamilton looked far too old and in too poor of health to only be in her late fifties. Her dependance on oxygen to breathe, her heavy wrinkles and missing teeth aged her even more. She hardly seemed related to the radiant beauty queen that had been her only daughter.
Mrs. Hamilton died of phenomena in a nursing home five years after Rebecca went missing. Her scrap books were still one of the few things she treasured. She would occasionally call the FBI office before she passed and asked about her daughter's case. If any new information had been found. Of course, nothing had been.
"I hope she did get away." Mrs. Hamilton remarked wistfully. Her breathing harsh and winded. "She always was a smart girl. I hope she figured out a way to get out. Go overseas somewhere."
The agent in charge doubted it. It was a cold case by then. Ice cold. Rebecca Hamilton was dead. Killed, most likely, by Bob Paris or someone like him. But if the mother chose to believe otherwise…
Nothing else was ever found of Rebecca Hamilton for more than a decade after her disappearance. No one ever reported seeing her, or having contact with her after the raid on the bank. In fact no one, except for one person, ever had any close contact with her again for the next ten years.
When she was finally found, she wasn't recognizable.