The Kid Who Stole Christmas (20 page)

The place smelled of wood smoke, Angela’s expensive perfume and another, citrus scent they assumed belonged to the raven-haired chauffeur, Emilio. Other than an unmade bed, a couple of empty champagne bottles and the remains of a few microwave meals, however, those were the only lingering signs of anyone’s presence. Leo wasn’t there. What’s more, it didn’t seem as if he had ever been there.

“This isn’t the place he described to me,” Shannon said.

“No,” Rick agreed. “We should have known that right away, really. There isn’t a satellite dish outside.”

Shannon cursed quietly. “Now what? He’s up in these mountains somewhere, I just know it. But we can’t very well go door to door asking for him.”

“Not even those houses with a dish.” Rick paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “But it would be a start.”

“Have you lost your mind? That’s still thousands!” she exclaimed. “Probably more.”

Rick crossed the huge living room to where she stood looking out the windows. The threatening clouds of earlier still hovered to the south. Though the view was breathtaking, however, she obviously saw no beauty in it at the moment.

“Embrace the theory if not the specific application, Shannon,” he told her.

“Huh?”

“The place we’re looking for has a satellite dish. That’s one descriptor,” Rick explained. “There have to be more.”

“Yes, of course.” For a moment, hope shone in her eyes. But it quickly flickered. “The other things he told me about the place are inside the house, though.”

“Still, you never know.” Rick headed for the kitchen, where he remembered seeing some paper and a pen. “We’ll go through your conversations with him and make a list, see what we can come up with. But first, I want you to call Pop.”

“Pop?” she asked. “Why? I’d hardly call this progress.”

“No, but he can help us make some. Didn’t you say Leo called you on his cellular, the one Pop gave him?”

Shannon nodded. “Yes. At least the first time. I’m not sure about the second. But come to think of it, he did say something last time about Joey’s wanting him to hang up so the spies wouldn’t trace it. I don’t think you can trace cellular calls, can you?”

“I’m not that up on the technology myself, but I’m sure it’s possible with the right equipment,” Rick replied. “Sort of like triangulating a radio signal. It probably takes a while, though, and I doubt they’d let Leo talk that long.”

“I’m sure of it.”

He shrugged. “But that’s a little out of our reach at the moment, in any case.”

“Then what can Pop do?”

“As the cellular’s owner, he can request a list of calls made from that phone.”

“He called me, Rick,” she said, thinking that perhaps the altitude was getting to him again. “I don’t think my number is going to do us any good, do you?”

Rick chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not addled. You see, a cellular works by passing a signal from the phone to different repeater stations, or cells, hence the name. As it does so, it leaves its signature, so to speak. That’s how they know who to bill and how much.”

“Are you saying there’s a record of what cell Leo was using when he called me?”

“If I’m not mistaken, yes. But don’t get your hopes up too high,” Rick cautioned. “A cell can cover a pretty large area. It’s just another descriptor we can use to narrow down our search to a reasonable size.”

Shannon was barely listening. She was already headed for the phone by the fireplace. Angela must have used it, because her scent was all over the receiver—which had been unplugged. Obviously, she hadn’t wanted to be disturbed in her tryst.

“What if Angela called the place where they’re really holding Leo from this phone?” she asked while dialing Lyon’s number. “Wouldn’t that help?”

“Yes, but I don’t think we could get access to those records. We can make note of this number, though, and see if it shows up on Leo’s list. It won’t help us find him, but it could establish a paper trail to help us nail the Bayers later.”

Shannon finally got through to Pop, who promised to get back to them with the requested information as soon as he could. They gave him the number to the lodge, figuring it was safe enough to stay there for an hour or so. She had scarcely hung up the phone, when it rang. Thinking it was Pop calling back to make sure of something, Shannon picked it up.

“Pop?” she asked.

There was a pause. “Angela?”

Rick could tell something was wrong by the startled look on Shannon’s face. He stepped over to her and put his ear next to the receiver, as well.

“Angela?” the man on the other end of the line repeated. “Angela, baby? Is that you?”

“It’s Nathan Bayer,” Rick whispered. “Just hang up.”

Shannon held up her hand, indicating that she had an idea. She couldn’t fool him long, but maybe long enough to learn something interesting. Maybe even Leo’s whereabouts.

“Angela?”

“Hmm?” she hummed.

“What the heck is going on up there?” Nathan bellowed. “I’ve been calling steady since six this morning!”

“Ooo,” Shannon cooed sympathetically.

“What? Were the phones out again?”

Shannon hummed another affirmative. So far, so good. Still, sooner or later, he was bound to ask something she couldn’t hum an answer to.

“Yeah, I thought that might be it. I tell you, I am going to raise some kind of stink with that stupid time-share association,” Nathan groused. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen hide nor hair of those two idiots, either, huh?”

Shannon raised her eyebrows and looked at Rick, who was still listening in. He shrugged. Since it seemed almost a rhetorical question, Shannon just waited to see if he would go on without her risking any more vocalizations.

It worked. No wonder Angela felt the need to go outside her marriage for interaction with another man.

“Me, neither,” Nathan continued. “I called all their old haunts, talked to all their cronies. They have just freaking disappeared, and taken the kid with them. But I’ll find ‘em. And when I do, I’m going to fry their livers for breakfast.”

Shannon covered the receiver with her hand. “They don’t even know where Leo is. Oh, Rick. I’m really worried now.”

He put his arm around her. “The same guys have him, Shannon. Remember that. And I’m not so sure it’s a bad thing that Nathan doesn’t know where they’ve taken him.”

“But Angela might,” Shannon said. “The chauffeur said something about taking the profits for themselves.”

Rick frowned. He couldn’t argue with that. “You’re right.”

“What are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can do. Make that list and wait for Pop to call,” Rick replied. “Which means getting that turkey off the phone.”

They both listened again. Nathan was still whining and complaining, apparently not needing any sort of response at all anymore. Shannon shook her head in disbelief.

“This guy deserves a wife like Angela.”

Rick grinned. “What was that chauffeur’s name?”

“Um, Emilio, I think.”

“That’s it. Think you can say it with more feeling?”

Shannon was grinning now, too. “Definitely. I’ve had a lot of practice of late.”

She cleared her throat and then uncovered the receiver, lifting it to her mouth. When Nathan paused to take a breath, she let out a deep sigh. Then she moaned.

“Angela?” Nathan asked. “You okay?”

“Oh, yes!”

“What’s going on? Angela! Have you got a real man up there with you?”

“Oh, Emilio!” Shannon moaned again, as if on the verge of ecstasy. “Yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!” she exclaimed breathlessly. And then, with a wicked grin, she hung up on him.

Chapter Seventeen

“P
ersistent, isn’t he?” Rick observed.

The phone had been ringing since Shannon had hung up the receiver. There was little doubt about who it was, and it had been funny for a minute or two. But now, it was about to drive her crazy.

“I think I’d better call Pop and tell him we’ll check in with him every fifteen minutes or so,” she said. “And then unplug this thing so we can work on our list in peace.”

“Excellent idea,” Rick agreed.

When that was accomplished, Shannon sat down to think of those clues Leo had inadvertently dropped during their two conversations. Unfortunately, there were very few, and the process only depressed her.

“Keep thinking,” Rick prompted.

Shannon scowled at him. “Of what possible use is it to know that the house we’re looking for has a white rug with blueberry syrup stains on it?” she asked irritably.

“None,” Rick admitted. “Unless we can narrow it down in some other way. Then it might come in very handy.” He sprang to his feet from the couch and pretended to be peeking in a window. “Yes, this is it! There are the stains!”

She had to chuckle at his antics, which was exactly the effect he had had in mind, she knew. “You’re quite a guy, you know that?”

He shrugged and sat down beside her again. “If you say so. In fact, you can say it again if you like. My ego still has a couple of years of being kicked around to recover from.”

“How about if I show you, instead?” Shannon leaned over and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up. This list certainly isn’t doing that.”

“What else have you got?”

She made a face. “Not much. The first time he called, on the cellular, he said the real phones were out.”

“That’s right. We had that storm. It wasn’t too bad in Denver, but they must have gotten hit pretty hard up here, judging by the new snow out there.” Rick patted her on the leg. “See? That pretty much confirms your intuition that he’s up in these mountains somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Shannon groused. “That’s just great.”

“We might also be able to ask the phone company what areas were affected by the outage.”

Her mood lifted a bit. “You’re right.”

“What else?”

“That’s it, except for the stuff I already told you about, like the names Joey and Irv that may or may not be aliases,” Shannon replied. “Oh, and lots of electronic gear, evidently. The latest in video games and equipment. And Leo did say the rug with the stains was in the entertainment room.”

“Well, that sounds to me as if we can rule out run-down shacks and cabins. Nice things usually have a nice package, if you know what I mean.”

“Some of the ritziest ski areas in the nation are within two hundred miles of here, Rick,” Shannon said. “There are a lot of nice packages around.”

Rick leaned over to look at her list, in case she was overlooking something. “There’s a pool?” he asked, pointing to the last item on her short list.

“In the basement.”

“Really?” Rick arched his eyebrows. “Now we might be getting somewhere.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Shannon said doubtfully. “What with the fitness craze, a swimming pool probably isn’t all that uncommon. Not around these parts, anyway. More money than brains, remember.”

Rick seemed almost affronted. “Actually, pools are a very wise investment,” he informed her.

“Sorry. I forgot you used to make your living selling them. But that means you should know. They’re pretty common, aren’t they?” she asked.

“Pools in general are, yes. I’m not that familiar with the trends in this area,” he replied. “But a pool in a basement? That sounds specialized. Did he describe it?”

Shannon thought for a moment. “He said it was a lap pool, I think.”

“Oh.” That dampened Rick’s enthusiasm a little. “That could mean almost anything, but a real common type is an aboveground model with a heavy vinyl liner. Any reasonably adept person can order one of those and install it himself.”

“Sorry,” Shannon said, her own mood faltering again. “But I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. I was a bit distracted when he called, remember?”

Rick had to grin. “I was, too.”

“I’ll see if I can remember anything else while I help us to some coffee, courtesy of the Bayers.”

“They owe us that and then some, I’d say,” Rick agreed. “While you do that, I think I’ll go get the car and bring it back here. From the look of that sky, if I don’t do it now, we’ll be doing it in the snow.”

“Then by all means, do it now,” Shannon agreed.

She had the coffee ready when he got back. Rick needed it, too. Although it wasn’t snowing yet, it probably would be soon, and the wind had picked up considerably.

Shannon also had more information for him. “I called Pop while you were gone,” she said, handing him a slip of paper along with the steaming mug of coffee. “You were right. The record on Leo’s phone shows he called from a cell in this area, which is big. But it does narrow things down some, I suppose.”

Rick studied the paper, on which she had written the rough boundaries Pop had gotten from the cellular phone company, in the form of street names and county lines. Except for the major highways, none of it made much sense to either of them. A few minutes with a map would take care of that, though, and they had one in the car.

Rick went to get it, and they spread it out on the kitchen table. Shannon started outlining the area with a marker she’d found in a drawer.

“Remember anything else about the pool?” Rick asked.

Shannon nodded. “As much as I’m ever going to, I think. Leo said there was a special kind of pool in the basement made for swimming laps while you stay in one place.” She finished marking the map and looked up at him. “Help any?”

Rick’s eyes were open wide. “For swimming while you stay in one place?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re sure he said that?”

“Positive. Why? Is it really that special?”

“Very,” Rick informed her. “Flumes they call them, with water jets that form a moving stream of water you can actually swim in, as if you were swimming against a current. Olympic training centers have them. There are a couple of home models available, though.” He raised his eyebrows. “And let me tell you, they are not cheap. I think we’ve found our key descriptor.”

Shannon wasn’t so sure, but his excitement was infectious. “But how are you going to find out who has one?”

“I’m going to ask,” Rick replied, already heading for the living room. “Grab those Denver Yellow Pages for me, please.”

She handed him the volume he needed. He opened it to swimming pool suppliers, looked for the largest one and made a call. They referred him to someone else, who passed him on to yet another person. Seeing that it might take a while, Shannon went to raid the Bayers’ larder.