My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 35

35

I COULD SEE THE BEACH HOUSE from a half mile away, a crystal castle rising out of the darkness. I cut through to the beach where I rode the bike along that strip of firm sand at the edge of the water, then killed the engine, and hid it in the dunes within fifty yards of the house. If I needed to get away quickly, I'd have a better chance on the beach than on the highway. I opened the saddlebag, retrieved a pair of binoculars, and settled down in the dunes to watch the place.

No one was outside. I panned the binoculars window to window, switched my cell phone off, and moved along the dunes toward the back of the house. From there, I could see into the lighted rooms on the first and second floors, but curtains were drawn across a brightly-lit chamber on the third floor. Three women were curled in chairs in the screening room watching a movie on the giant TV screen.

I made a wide arc around to the house across the street from where I could see up under the beach house. There was a black Cadillac Escalade parked under the house, but the Corvette was not there so I figured John-Boy was probably not there either. I pulled the cell phone from my jacket, turned it on, and called Martha. "It's me. I'm here. Write this down." I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket and read her a phone number.

"What's that?"

Holding the phone with my shoulder, I ripped up the sliver of paper. "It's Sydney's phone number. I forgot to leave it at home and I don't want to have it on me if anything should happen."

"Do you see a house number? I can pull up the county GIS map and find out who owns it and where they live."

"Not from here. I'll have to get closer."

"Please be careful."

The black Corvette I'd seen before came into view, slowed, and turned up the driveway across the street. "He's back."

"Who?"

"The guy I followed down here before. I'll call you later."

"Richard?"

"What?"

"Please be careful."

"I will. Got to go. I'll call you later." I turned the phone off and moved closer to the house staying out of sight. The Corvette was there, but John-Boy had disappeared. As I approached the car, a sliding door upstairs opened and two sets of shoes shuffled awkwardly across the porch above and started down the stairs. I sprang back into the shadows and watched as two men stumbled toward me carrying the body of a young woman. Her right arm dragged the cement as they scuffled toward the Cadillac SUV. One of the men was Fat Albert. The other, Latino, supported the girl's legs as they slung her onto the back seat. They closed the door, shared a private laugh, and disappeared up the steps.

I crept up to the vehicle and through the window I could see that she had red hair. Easing the car door open, I leaned in, and saw that it was Angie. I pressed a finger against her neck but, before I could find a pulse, I heard voices, closed the door with my hip, and crouched behind the car.

"Don't speed," an older man was saying to a younger man as they came down the stairs. "Don't run any red lights and don't get in any wreck." The man speaking had a heavy high-tider accent, thick eyebrows, and a thick mustache. I assumed the younger one was John-Boy, but couldn't raise up to get a better look.

"Yes sir, Mr. Bonner," the youth said.

"And make damned sure nobody sees you."

"I will."

"Aye'm countin' on you, Greg."

"You know I always come through for you, Mr. Bonner."

Through the vehicle's windows I saw Mr. Bonner grasp hold of the younger man's shoulder. "You're my number one."