“How did you learn about what happened with Alexander?” Derek asked.
“I got a call from Mix’s wife, Michelle. Told me everything that happened. Every last detail. Also told me that her husband Stanley was dying of cancer. Then she tried to convince me to just leave him the hell alone and that his guilt is what caused his cancer. I told her that I couldn’t care less about what caused his cancer or how long he had to live. I let her know that I would find a way to put all of those assholes in prison and make damn sure that the whole world knew what they did.”
“If you found out six months ago, why didn’t you go to the authorities then?”
“If someone called you out of the blue and told you the same story, would you believe it right off the bat or would you do some research?”
“Research, but not six months of it.”
“It took longer than you might imagine to verify her story. They covered their asses pretty damn well. The state of New York had zero information on Alexander Black since Straus kept him hidden in some closed-off ward in a now-closed psych hospital. It took a while to pick up a trail, and that trail leads straight to the lodge you are looking at right now.
“Once I discovered that the story was true, I started planning my next steps. Only thing was my next steps were interrupted by what Alexander Black is accused of doing.”
“Did you ever see Alexander? I mean, did you ever go out to Piseco Lake to verify?”
“Mr. Cole, I am a man of resources. No, I never went out to Piseco Lake, but I hired a few people who did all the verifying I needed. I received pictures of Alexander and copies of his entire file two weeks ago.”
“Mr. O’Connell,” Derek said, “I strongly suggest that you make your location known to the local authorities. Your name was on that list as well for whatever reason, and if the state police or Chief Ralph Fox find out you never boarded that plane, they will come looking for you and will have some targeted questions.”
“You worry about doing what I am paying you to do, and I’ll take care of myself. I know that my son is safe, but that doesn’t mean that he will stay safe. Find Straus, Lucietta, and Mix. And if you happen to find Alexander Black, give him a message for me.”
“And that message would be?”
“To leave my family the hell alone. Call me at 8:00 your time. Got it?”
“Got it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
William Straus was conflicted. He didn’t know what to concentrate on. His thoughts flipped between congratulating himself for his cunning and the intense fear that he knew demanded more of his focus.
When he received the call and heard the demands expected to him, Straus knew he had to respond with caution. Though he offered no resistance, he calculated how he would respond. He practiced which words he would use, how to use them, when, and even the tone of voice he would present the rehearsed words with. But he also planned his approach, and that planning, that calculation, was why he was still alive.
The caller was viciously clear.
“Be at your cabin no later than seven in the morning. Alexander and I will be waiting for you. Do not alert anyone about our meeting. Should you have previously scheduled guests planning on arriving, let them keep their schedules. If you decide on inviting anyone else who you feel might give you some negotiating advantage, don’t. You know exactly what this meeting is about and can probably correctly assume our demands. However, if you fail to comply or choose to modify your expected response, our demands will be satisfied in a different manner.”
William Straus had no intentions of making a risky move. He would comply fully. Do what was asked, exactly as directed. But he also would have his own “Plan B” and “Plan C” ready to be implemented. Before any plan was set into motion, Straus designed a prequel.
He stopped his car a full half-mile down the twisting, tree-lined road that housed his lodge. It was still dark when he shut his BMW off and disappeared into the thick woods. The closer he got to his lodge, the slower and quieter he made his pace. When he was within a safe viewing distance, he opened his gym bag, pulled out a long sleeve shirt and sweat pants, and put them on over his Jos A Bank gabardines and crisp, white pinpoint Oxford. He found a low bush that afforded excellent cover and crawled beneath its concealing bows.
Once situated, he glanced at his watch.
“Six-thirty,” he said to himself. “Perfect.”
From his position, Straus could see the back end of a sedan, unfamiliar to him, parked in the stone driveway of his lodge. His angle of view did not allow him to see the plates nor the make, but he knew whose car it was.
Ten minutes after he arrived in his perch, Straus saw a car slowing, then turning into the lodge.
“Curtis and Adams,” he whispered.
He watched Jacob Curtis and Peter Adams enter the lodge after pausing to consider the strange car parked in the driveway. He knew they were planning on being in attendance when Straus told Alexander the good news, but he didn’t expect them till well after ten.
It was perfectly still and quiet for several minutes before Straus saw the main door of the lodge swing open. Standing in the doorway was a bloody Alexander Black. The morning sun was still struggling to ward off the dark shadows, but Straus could see, even from one hundred feet away, the blood dripping from Alexander’s hands.
“Shit!” he thought.
The decision to leave and to execute Plan B was made instantly, but he knew he had to remain unseen and unheard. He needed a distraction. And as he glanced further down the road, he saw his needed distraction headed straight towards Alexander.
He didn’t know the man, but Straus recognized him. He remembered having seen him walking by his lodge before. His name didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that he looked to be speaking with Alexander, which meant Alexander would be distracted.
As quietly as he could, Straus crawled backwards, keeping his gaze fixed on Alexander and the familiar stranger as they spoke in the middle of the road. When he was free of the bush and could stand, Straus began to quicken his pace. Before he turned his back on his lodge, Straus saw Alexander plunge a knife deep into the man’s neck.