Stop Me (Last Stand #2)(87)
Author: Brenda Novak

“You’re confident, I have to give you that. Where are you?”

“On the road from Portsville to New Orleans, following Fornier and Jasmine, until I lost them.”

“Forget about them for a minute, then. We have to transfer Billy.”

“Why? He’s fine where he is.”

“No, he’s not! This is our lifeblood, this is our business. I have a skittish pair of buyers, and I don’t want to queer the deal by dragging this out.”

Basically, he wanted the money. Peccavi was putting his share of the proceeds in an offshore account. He claimed he’d retire soon and leave the country, get him an island girl and spend the rest of his life in some tropical paradise, and Gruber believed he would. No doubt he’d stashed away quite a sum.

“Can’t you ask Phillip to deliver Billy?” Gruber said. “I have things to do.”

“Beverly doesn’t know where Phillip went. He disappeared again last night.”

“He’ll be back, though, right? He always comes back.”

“I don’t care if he does. I’m done with him. He’s not doing his job.”

Which meant Peccavi would have his own body to dispose of when Phillip returned. Peccavi had certainly dealt with Jack.

It was going to be a big week for both of them. And it all hinged on doing what had to be done without leaving any trace.

“How far do I have to travel to get Billy where he has to go?”

“Utah.”

There was no way. Valerie was rotting at his house. “I can’t,” Gruber said, more adamant than ever. “You’re going to have to ask Roger. Jasmine Stratford has my picture. She knows I’m mixed up in her sister’s disappearance.”

Peccavi started to speak, but Gruber cut him off. “If I don’t take care of this now, it’ll risk the whole enterprise. If they get to me, they get to you. I’m only one step away.” For the first time, he was glad he’d turned Kimberly over to Peccavi.

That link strengthened his position now.

Drawing the threat back to Peccavi worked even better than Gruber had expected. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll do it myself.”

As far as Gruber was concerned, it was damn time.

“Call me when you’re finished,” Peccavi added.

“I will.” Gruber exited the freeway and stopped at a gas station to wash his hands. Then he turned right on the road that would take him to his brother-in-law’s house. Showing some concern for his missing sister would buy him some much-needed time. After that he would head home. He shouldn’t have gotten anxious enough to traipse all the way to Portsville trying to chase Jasmine down. Now that she had his picture, he didn’t need to find her. She’d find him.

All he had to do was wait.

Because Jasmine had left her car in Portsville, splitting up meant she had to rent another one. When she mentioned it, Romain argued that meeting with Huff wouldn’t take long, but they were working against the clock. The man in the picture would strike again. A vague uneasiness settled over Jasmine every time she thought of him. He was in a constant state of agitation these days, which told her something in his psyche had changed, grown more important or more immediate. She wasn’t sure what that was or how she could be so certain. It was just one of those strange feelings that came over her every once in a while. The kind of gut feeling she’d learned to trust.

They had to act fast to stop him before he hurt someone else. And they could cover more ground by splitting up than by staying together.

Besides, it was becoming all too easy to trust that she and Romain had a future beyond the few passionate encounters they’d shared. At odd moments, she could imagine herself bearing his child.

“What?” he said as he dropped her off at the car rental place.

She smiled at the futility of trying to avoid the desires that flared up whenever she was with him, and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, well, this means nothing, too,” he said, and then he pulled her back into the truck and kissed her soundly. She’d barely recovered before he started rattling off a set of stern instructions.

“As soon as I leave Huff’s hotel, I’ll buy a cell phone. Keep yours on so I can call you as soon as mine’s working. I want to stay in close contact. And, whatever you do, don’t go inside anyone’s house. I don’t care who it is, even if it’s a child who’s home alone.”

“Got it,” she said with a small salute.

His sober expression underscored his warning. “I mean it.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Romain.”

“I have to believe that,” he said. At least, that was what she guessed he said.

His voice was so low it was difficult to tell, and she was already shutting the door.

The house where the Moreaus used to live—back when Beverly’s husband was still alive—was actually in a decent neighborhood. The homes were older but well-maintained. It was the sort of suburb where young families moved in and used a bit of elbow grease and creativity to dress things up. There were minivans in various driveways. Christmas decorations and lights adorned almost every house.

Jasmine parked at the curb across from the Moreaus’ old address. She figured the people who’d bought the house would probably know the least about them, and planned to approach the neighbors first. With so many young families, she was worried there’d been too much turnover in the area. Quite possibly no one would remember the Moreaus, especially Milo who, according to Jonathan in California, died of a heart attack fifteen years ago.

Getting out, she pulled her coat tight against the biting wind, then walked up to the door on the left and knocked. But her first attempt was a disappointment. The aging Mexican lady who answered didn’t speak English, and no one else appeared to be home. Smiling and waving to let her know it was okay, Jasmine walked to the other side of the Moreaus’ former residence and rang the doorbell.

An attractive young girl with long blond hair poked her head out. “Yes?”

“Is your mother home?”

“Just a minute.”

A woman with a shaggy haircut replaced the young girl. “What can I do for you?” she asked curiously.

“My name is Jasmine Stratford. I’m searching for my sister, who went missing sixteen years ago. I’m wondering if you can help me identify this young man.” She held out the picture she’d taken from Beverly’s office.