Unquiet Ghosts Read online

“Wh-why?”

  “It’ll be safer, for everyone.”

  I sensed it again. Palpable fear. Was it Jack’s PTSD acting up? A kind of paranoia?

  I also felt a surge of relief that was overwhelming, knowing that I would see my children. I wanted to ask him if he’d left the note in my car, but he didn’t even give me time.

  “Same rules apply.”

  “Jack, please don’t treat me like this. I’ve been in a limbo for eight years. I need to know about Amy and Sean, and I need to know now.”

  “Six o’clock. Six p.m. on the nail. Then you’ll know everything.”

  And the line died with a click.

  55

  * * *

  My hands shook as I drove to Chad’s home.

  At least Jack had called. I felt elated. Hope surged through me like an electric current once again.

  But it didn’t stop me from keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror.

  I saw no sign of the SUV or the metallic-gray communications van.

  I began to figure either my imagination was in overdrive and I wasn’t really being followed, or whoever it was, was being careful. The latter seemed more probable. But I couldn’t help thinking that Jack might be experiencing one of his PTSD episodes and rampant paranoia was at work.

  It was possible.

  But I still felt vigilant.

  I hated the thought that some faceless creeps might be stalking me, watching me. It drove me crazy, and I felt my heart pounding.

  It also scared the life out of me.

  * * *

  To call Chad’s home a mansion would not be doing it justice.

  It was one of those big, picture-perfect manor houses, all expensive oak and granite, with a huge bubbling water fountain in front and a quarter-mile-long entrance driveway lined with maple and elm trees. It always kind of reminded me of Hugh Hefner’s Playboy crib but a touch smaller.

  Lots of meandering footpaths, water features, and ivy climbing on granite. Very French, very charming, and very big, it looked more like a hotel than a home. The kind of residence you could get lost in on a daily basis.

  It was on the lake, a private multiacre estate on Lyons Bend that I could only guess the value of—six, seven million dollars, maybe more? A fortune by Knoxville standards.

  Two boat docks, a saltwater pool, private helicopter pads, enough garages to hold a zillion cars, and servants’ quarters.

  I loved the house. Not because of its size—it was way too big. I loved it because of the views over the lake and the deer that wandered through the estate.

  Hummingbirds fed from the sugared-water dispensers hanging from the back porch. At sunset, you could hear geese flying overhead. Everything about the place spoke to me of peace and tranquility, except when Chad’s helicopter descended or took off.

  I’d spent a lot of time here when I was married to Chad. A few friends half joked that I should I should stay with Chad even if he was cheating on me, so I could live here.

  Maybe some women could. I couldn’t.

  But if I ever won the lottery, a place with a very similar view had my name on it. Dream on.

  I pulled up at the private security lodge at the entrance. The guard on duty was an athletic black man named Samuel with broad nostrils and solid, muscular arms. Despite his kindly smile and diplomatic manner, Samuel was a former Navy SEAL and was always armed.

  Chad once told me that Samuel was a martial-arts expert, up there with Bruce Lee, and could probably kill a roomful of aggressors with his bare hands. He doubled as one of Chad’s bodyguards. Chad always kept at least six bodyguards at his home. It always made me feel uncomfortable when I lived here. Like sharing your home with half a football team. But as Chad used to say, “Dealing with foreign governments and their security forces often attracts hostile enemies. I’ve got to be careful, baby.”

  “Hey, Ms. Kath, good to see you again, ma’am.”

  “You, too, Samuel.”

  “Mr. Chad said for you to drive right on up. He’s in a meeting and shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You bet.”

  I shifted into drive and cruised along a tree-lined avenue up to the house. I saw the company helicopter parked on the pad out back and another chopper nearby. When I reached the circular driveway at the end, one of the big double oak doors opened, and a suited butler came out. Behind him, Julie Ann appeared. My tires crunched on the gravel as I braked.

  “Kath!” She waved and ran toward me.

  My cell phone rang. I looked at the number.

  It was my father.

  I felt a powerful anger. I wanted to take the call, to confront him. But now wasn’t the time. I rejected the call and let it switch to voice mail.

  As I looked up at Julie Ann’s approach, I glimpsed a couple of men heading toward the helicopters. They looked like pilots, and one of them climbed into the second chopper. I saw two of Chad’s men along with two others who looked Middle Eastern.

  I climbed out of my car, and Julie Ann came running into my arms, all smiles, and hugged me.

  “Daddy said you were coming. Have you got time to go riding tomorrow? We’ve got a new horse, Sheena. She’s really beautiful.”

  “Not tomorrow, sweetheart.” I was still feeling the aftershocks of Tanner’s revelation and Chad’s announcement. Not to mention Jack’s call and the photographs I’d seen. It had been an eventful day. I wasn’t in the mood for a horse ride anytime soon, alone or with a thirteen-year-old.

  “I miss you, Kath. I really miss you.”

  Julie Ann’s earnestness always touched me. With her soft features and her energetic nature, she reminded me of Amy. So much so that it sometimes made me feel weak. And now, now that I held hope of seeing Amy again, her welcome sent my heart soaring. “I miss you, too.”

  “I saw on the news about the crash. Daddy said I wasn’t to talk about it, but . . . but I don’t know, Kath, I thought maybe you’d want to?”

  I smiled a reply. Now wasn’t the time or the place. “Not just now, sweetie.”

  “Are you OK?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a difficult time.”

  We moved up the front steps, through the massive oak doors. From the entry hall, a vast staircase swept upstairs, like something out of a Hollywood musical. A pair of glittering chandeliers sparkled in the ceiling and on the landing.

  On the walls hung rows of family portraits. Some had the kind of death-mask faces the rich and wealthy often have, where the skin looks as if it is being pulled back from behind, the cheekbones high, the lips tight. Like sentries, they seemed to line up to watch over their money and their offspring.

  I could see the living room and the panoramic window that showed off an incredible lake view. I had spent some happy times here. I would take out my memories of my years with Chad every now and then, when I was feeling lonely. I didn’t know if they comforted me or hurt me. Probably both.

  Chad’s father had lived here then. Chad still hadn’t put his own stamp on the place. He had left it for the penthouse apartment he kept in Washington, which was more a mix of classic contemporary and laid-back comfortable, which always reminded me of Chad himself. He may have been driven and relentless in business, but Chad gave off a casual, easygoing aura.

  When I once asked him how he managed to look so laid-back in the midst of all his frantic globe-trotting and high-powered wheeling and dealing, he rubbed his fingers together in that age-old gesture that indicates money and smiled. “That always helps.”

  Outside I heard a helicopter start up.

  “Are your dad’s business acquaintances still here?”

  “They’re always here. Or people like them.”

  Julie Ann sometimes sounded like a spoiled rich kid—she really wasn’t, but right then, she almost qualified. I looked around, not sure what
I was searching for.

  “She’s not here, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Who’s not here?”

  “The woman you saw in the car.”

  “That’s OK. Your dad is free to be with whoever he wants to be with, sweetheart.”

  “Daddy doesn’t see her often. She’s an Arab lady, from Beirut or someplace,” Julie Ann said, bored. “Her dad does business with my dad.”

  I made no comment. It wasn’t my affair.

  Julie Ann said matter-of-factly, “I think she’s also probably a gold digger looking for a wealthy husband, like a lot of the ladies who hang around Daddy. I wouldn’t call some of them ladies, either.”

  I was almost tempted to smile at her precociousness. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. I never hear any love in their voices. Only greed. They always want something, women like her.” She put a hand on my arm. “Not like when you used to speak with him. You told him the truth.”

  I drew in a breath. Her maturity and directness sometimes astonished me. “Don’t judge your dad too harshly, Julie Ann. He’s a good man.”

  “He’s my dad, and I love him, but sometimes he has lousy taste in women.” She looked at me. “I know he still likes you a lot. I bet if he had his way and could change things, he’d like for you and him to be together again. I know he would. I guess I shouldn’t tell you that, but he’s often kind of said it.”

  What could I say to that? Wishful thinking on a child’s part or the truth? I didn’t want to go down that road, however flattering.

  “He sure talks about you an awful lot,” Julie Ann added for emphasis.

  “How’s school?”

  “Except for a boy in my class who I really like, I hate it. Hate it with a vengeance.”

  “I think we all hated it at your age.”

  “I think a little more positive encouragement might be in order. Or are you trying to help create another Southern rebel?”

  I heard the voice behind me and turned. Chad leaned against the doorframe. He wore a white business shirt, open at the neck, his amber silk tie loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up. The white and amber showed off his tan.

  “You two are getting acquainted again, I see.”

  “Like you said, it’s been a while.”

  “Way too long. You and this young madame need to spend even more time together.” Chad came over, gently touched my arm, and winked at his daughter.

  Julie Ann sighed. “OK, I get the message, Daddy. Time to disappear.”

  “We’ve just got some private talking to do. Thanks, honey.”

  Julie Ann said, “See you soon, Kath?”

  “I hope so.”

  She kissed and hugged me, and then she was gone, like a whirlwind.

  Chad’s hand came up, touched my arm, and lingered there a little longer than it maybe ought to. “You coping?”

  I gave a shrug.

  “You seem tired.”

  I rubbed my eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’m also crazy busy, Chad. With a million things on my mind and lots to do. You said you knew why Jack disappeared. Why? Money?”

  He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “Something the FBI guy leading the case said to me.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name’s Brewster Tanner.”

  “And what exactly did he say?”

  I hesitated, not knowing exactly what I should be revealing, but I said it anyway. “They found a bundle of money in an aluminum briefcase at the crash site.”

  He frowned again. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “This is not the kind of time I’d attempt a joke, Chad.”

  “How much?”

  “A quarter of a million dollars, cash. Three million dollars in bonds originating in the Cayman Islands.”

  His right eye twitched with a look of genuine surprise. “Really?”

  “It didn’t belong to Brown Bear?”

  He said nothing. “Was that all they found?”

  “A priceless artifact. Some Persian mask that went missing in Iraq after the invasion.”

  Chad looked stunned and gave a shake of his head. “That’s . . . troubling.”

  “What is, exactly?”

  “All of it. The money, the bonds, some artifact.”

  “You knew nothing about them?”

  “Nothing. I’m truly mystified.”

  I have to say he genuinely looked it, unless he was suddenly a terrific actor. Chad could have a poker face when he chose to, but usually he couldn’t hide his true emotions. His face would color, his lips tighten, or his body stiffen. But I saw none of those reactions.

  “What about . . . remains?”

  He spoke softly, but that word still hit me like a sledgehammer. “Nothing yet. But the NTSB guy thinks Jack and the children may have survived.”

  Chad looked as if I had hit him hard. He reeled back and lost eye contact with me for a moment. When he recovered, he shook his head. “I’m astonished, Kath . . .”

  I told him exactly what Dexter had said.

  Chad reached out and touched my arm again, with what seemed like genuine concern. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Neither do I. But for the first time in eight years, I have a grain of hope that I may see my children again. And that’s such a good feeling. Chad, I hate to press it, but what did you want to say to me?”

  He seemed reluctant to talk all of a sudden. As if my news had changed the game. But after a few more seconds of reflection, he jerked his head toward his study door. It was open, an array of computers inside, walnut-paneled walls lined with overfilled bookshelves.

  “Can you come with me? I need to show you something, something very private and sensitive.”

  I stared back at him. “Chad, I don’t need any more shocks today. Really, I don’t.”

  He was tight-mouthed, his lips barely moving, as he said, “I’m sorry, but you need to know about this. There’s no other way. You need to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  “A big lie. A big lie Jack kept from you. And one that I’ve kept, too.”

  56

  * * *

  Knoxville, Tennessee

  Earlier that day, when Brewster Tanner finished shaving, he threw water onto his face, and stared at himself in the mirror.

  Droopy eyes, scraggly hair that could do with a cut, and a vest that looked like it needed to be replaced. When his wife was alive, he used to look after himself. Now, on weekends or days off, he never shaved and lounged around watching TV in a size 4XL Snuggie he found on sale at Kohl’s. Beware, folks, if ever there was one single reason not to retire, it was afternoon TV.

  And money. Most pensions barely covered the cost of living these days. He saw that with his mom. She almost killed herself working a job all her life, retired at sixty-six, and spent a year living on a misery of a pension that barely clothed and fed her and paid the rent on an apartment the size of a garden shed. A place so small Tanner used to joke she’d get a hunched back.

  Some days when he visited his mom, he knew by looking in her fridge that she probably hadn’t eaten more than one meal a day. He’d force her to come out for dinner, to a local Applebee’s or Shoney’s, but getting her to accept the offer was hard work.

  No more than she’d accept money from him. His mom would rather sit alone in her apartment and starve than be beholden to anyone. A proud black woman. He knew lots of them, doing double duty by raising kids alone and holding down two jobs. Too proud to ask anyone for help.

  She went to cancer a year later, having told no one about her ailment until two months before she passed—a painful end with no health insurance worth talking about. Tanner still shivered thinking about that.

  He sure didn’t want
that kind of miserable end to a life.

  He traipsed back into his Sleep Inn motel bedroom and a plucked a fresh shirt from his suitcase. Lying on the bed were some photocopied pages from the original case file from eight years ago. He’d spent the evening reading them and was none the wiser for it. Then he left a voice-mail message for Dexter, inquiring after his progress.

  His cell phone rang. It was Courtney. He picked up.

  “Rise and shine, Tanner.”

  “I rose and illuminated thirty minutes ago. You here?”

  “In the lobby.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “I already ate.”

  “OK, see you in five.”

  He flicked off his cell. It rang a second time.

  “Tanner.”

  “Hey, big man. It’s Dexter, your friendly NTSB amigo. Got those results you’ve been waiting for.”

  “Hit me, bro.”

  * * *

  She was waiting in the lobby, 9:30 a.m. on the button, like they’d arranged. Courtney looked smart in jeans and a pale-blue top, comfortable sneakers. She had a notebook and a pen in her hand.

  “Grab a coffee? They’re still serving breakfast,” Tanner suggested.

  “Sure.”

  They crossed the lobby to the breakfast area and helped themselves to two coffees. The place was empty, and they took a seat near the window.

  “How’s Kath doing, do you know?”

  “I called her yesterday evening.”

  Tanner sipped from his cup. “You care about her, don’t you?”

  “She’s maybe the best friend I’ve ever had. Straight, true, honest. We’ve had our occasional spats and disagreements over the years, but I’d put my life on the line for Kath any day. And I’ll tell you this for nothing, nobody deserved what happened to her.”

  “You mean about her family?”

  “What exactly do you know about Kath?”

  “Just some stuff her former work colleagues at Bearden High School told me and whatever I found on file from the original case. I guess I need to color in between the lines.”

  Courtney arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “ ‘Some stuff’ is putting it mildly. Did they tell you her brother, Kyle, tried to kill himself nine years back?”