Alan Lee [Lee - Mackenzie August Boxset 2

G rady Huff was gonna swing.

Thats the way the Roanoke Times made it sound.

The man had no chance, guilty as sin, and soon hed be strung up on a long rope on the tallest tree branch while the townsfolk watched.

Or sentenced to life in prison, but that was less romantic. Either way, Grady Huffs prospects looked grim.

I sat in my office, windows closed against a pale October chill, and read the Times on my laptop. My Merrell all-terrain hiking shoes (worn in case I needed to chase a dastardly villain up a rugged mountainside) were crossed on my desk. My black NorthFace rain jacket (worn in case the mountainside pursuit took place in a lashing downpour) was unzipped. My salmon slim-fitted Neiman Marcus (worn in case I needed to impress fashion-conscious damsels during the soaked mountainside chase) was neatly untucked. And I, lantern-jawed and intrepid investigator, pursuer of fiends, did not want to help Grady Huff escape his destiny.

He was a trust fund kid, now thirty-five, and hed inherited millions from his fathers investment in Pepsi in the fifties. Grady had bought a mansion on Smith Mountain Lake, spent his days inebriated on his dock and large sailboat, until one day killing his cleaning lady during a drunken bout of violence.

I brought up her pictureshe was a cutie.

I brought up hishe was not.

I lazily reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and fetched the nearly-full bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. Scrappy gumshoes had no business owning such a luxury so I nursed it carefully. Somedays I only popped the cork and smelled it. Today, though, I thought, today was a drizzly day and a good one to indulge.

I popped the cork. Brought the bottle to my lips. Took half a sip, rolled it around, and replaced the bottle again.

Mackenzie August, uncontrollable lush.

I punched keys on my MacBook and the screen changed to my email. The most recently received was from a lawyer. Asking for my help. Asking me to help her prevent Grady Huff from swinging by his neck until dead.

But I didnt want to. The attorney didnt pretend Grady was innocent. She didnt want help proving his blamelessness, but rather to prevent the carriage of justice.

Help me, Mackenzie August. Youre my only hope.

Without you, this heinous and guilty man might get what he deserves.

I sardonically shifted to stare out the window and think sardonic thoughts about the mist.

The cleaning lady, I muttered. Who kills their cleaning lady?

Everyone knew that cleaning ladies were universally nice women. If I could afford one, Id be exceptionally kind to her. Unlike Grady Huff, the caveman.

I breathed in deeply through my nose, enjoyed the potpourris masculine aroma, and thought deep thoughts while slowly exhaling like a popped tire.

After a while, the wooden stairs leading to my second floor office creaked and strained.

A man named Carlos came in. I knew Carlos, a tall and beefy associate of Marcus Morgan. Carlos was adept at hiding bodies, thats what I knew. His head was shaved, his facial hair short and wispy and thin. He had tattoos on his neck and his forearms. He looked the way mobster muscle should, except his face didnt hold the meanness. A gentle hitman.

His jeans were black. His tight gray t-shirt strained at the biceps and neck.

Carlos dropped to his knees at my desk. Pressed his face into the wood, and balled fists and made a sobbing sound.

Carlos, I said. You look destroyed. Is someone larger and scarier than you about to burst through my door?

He shoved a hand into his pocket and set a thick envelope of cash between us, without looking up.

August. You must be purchased. Por favor.

Hired, you mean.

He took her. She was taken and II do not know.

Who took whom? I said.

Mi nia. She is gone.

I sat up straighter. Claims of child abduction called for more erect posture.

Your daughter was kidnapped?

S.

When?

No s. I do not know where. And when. And who.

What do you know?

He got to his feet. Wiped his eyes. Collapsed into one of my client chairs. My daughter. Isabella. She live in Mjico. With her ta.

Her aunt.

S.

And someone took her.

He nodded, trying to regain composure. And failing.

Could it be retaliation for your work with Marcus? Professional rivalry?

He shook his head. Took two deep shuddering breaths. Okay. You listen. You understand a coyote.

A coyote, yes, I said. With a sinking feeling. Someone you pay to smuggle yourself or a loved one across a boundary, like the Mexican border.

S. I save money. I pay a coyote. He bring Isabella from Mjico. Across the border. I speak with her on the phone.

And now the coyote wants triple the price or he wont release Isabella, I guessed.

Not three. Four.

Quadruple! And you dont know if Isabella is still alive. Or if hell let her go even if you pay.

His eyes squished and his mouth turned down again. S.

Well damn, Carlos.

He reached forward to press the envelope closer to me. Here. For you. You find her. And maybe I can get you a diamond.

A diamond? Why dont you ask Marcus to help? Hes got connections in the underworld.

I will. If you can not. You understand? It is It is

Embarrassing and unprofessional?

S.

When your daughter is missing, getting help is never embarrassing and unprofessional, Carlos.

He said, Please, Seor August.

How old is Isabella?

Fourteen.

Damn, I said again. Any number but fourteen.

You will help.

Of course. Por supuesto. I owe Marcus multiple favors anyway. I closed my laptop screen. Grady Huff would have to wait until tomorrow. You have a number to call?

After I have money, I call the number.

I stood up and removed my jacket. It wasnt raining indoors, Mackenzie, you idiot. I paced a moment. Okay. Youre going to take a photo of yourself with this stack of cash. Text it to that number. And then call.

The coyote say PayPal.

Were not doing PayPal. What kind of criminal does PayPal? Freaking millennials. You tell him you dont have PayPal, but youll drop the cash anywhere. Tonight.

Tonight?

S, I said. Thisll work better, we strike quick.

Bueno.

Shock and awe. A child is at stake. Tonight.

Bueno! Esta noche. We do this now?

Yes. This very minute.

He grabbed the envelope and withdrew the cash. Spread the bills out in a fan in front of his face and snapped a pic with his phone. Replaced the cash into the envelope, set it on my desk, and sent the text message. We will find him?

Yes, I said.

I will kill him.

Up to you. Wait a minute, let the coyote see the cash. Then call the guy. Put it on speaker.