“Then it’s settled.” Luna stopped. She didn’t want to take over the entire evening. “Just one more thing.” The men rolled their eyes. “It was also your karma.” She pointed her fork in Chris’s direction. “You were meant to solve this. The end.” She’d said what she had to say.

  “I’m going to call J.R. tomorrow morning to set up an appointment to meet in his office. I’ll lay it all out for him. He might be outraged at the insinuation, but he won’t have much choice if I tell him we plan to dust the armoire for his prints. He could claim it was in his room, but I don’t think he’s willing to go the distance on this. It would involve his family. His job. It could turn into a horribly embarrassing circus. And I think J.R. is the type who would rather avoid such controversy.”

  “Tell me something,” Cullen asked. “In legal terms. How did he break the law if it wasn’t a real kidnapping?”

  “Extortion, for one.”

  “And how would you prove it if his family doesn’t cooperate?” Cullen asked.

  “It can either be very complicated or very simple. If he protests, it gets complicated. We—law enforcement, that is—would have to try to prove an illegal act was committed. We can’t do that unless his parents file a complaint. Remember, he was only eighteen at the time, so the court could be sympathetic.”

  “And the simple way?” Luna queried.

  “He tells his parents and lets them decide. If they don’t press charges and he offers restitution, there is nothing I can do. Legally, that is.” Chris motioned for the waiter to pour everyone another glass of wine. “Morally? That is the thing I am going to do tomorrow. Challenge his ethics and his integrity.”

  Luna raised her glass. “Here’s to integrity.” They clinked glasses and finished their entrées, then polished off the meal with Odeon’s famous ice cream sandwiches. They casually strolled back to the hotel, Luna’s arms linked through both Cullen’s and Chris’s. She sighed. “My two favorite men.”

  As they approached their floor, an awkward moment occurred between Luna and Chris. Chi-Chi and Elle had departed earlier that day, leaving Luna with the room to herself. She decided to let Chris make the move. But he was a gentleman and wanted her to suggest what they were both thinking. But she didn’t, and so they parted outside each other’s doors and had to be satisfied with a brief kiss good night. When Luna shut the door behind her, she wanted to kick herself. She would have to be satisfied with that kiss and knowing they would meet up for breakfast in the morning. She fingered the ring by her neck, wondering where the relationship might go. For the first time, she didn’t feel anything but love and admiration to and from a man. Not fear, not the need to be needed or wanted, possessed or trapped. Just love. The love that comes from a deep friendship. From your best friend.

  Once she settled in, she phoned Chi-Chi and told her they wouldn’t be back until Wednesday, and promised to fill her in once they got home. She then phoned Elle and let her know about her travel plans. Elle assured Luna everything at the center would be covered and that she would phone Alex to ask him to bring Wylie over to her house so he would have some company with Ziggy and Marley.

  Everything was falling into place.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Reckoning

  Luna, Cullen and Chris met in the lobby at eight and walked two blocks to the local café where they were planning to have breakfast. After the waitress took their order, Chris pulled out his cell and called the number on the business card J.R. had given Luna. At this point, the fingerprints were irrelevant. He could get them at any time moving forward if necessary.

  A polite young gentleman’s voice answered Chris’s call. “Good morning, Chad Pierce Jr.’s office. This is Gregory. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning. This is Marshal Christopher Gaines. I met J.R., Mr. Pierce, the other night at his mother’s gallery opening. I was wondering if he had a few minutes to meet with me today.”

  Gregory hesitated. “What is this regarding, may I ask?”

  “A follow-up to our conversation at dinner.” He paused briefly. “At the Tribeca Grill.” Chris figured the more personal the association he could prove to the assistant, the more accommodating he would be.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Let me check his schedule.” Gregory normally asked J.R. before he put anything on his calendar, but J.R. was behind closed doors, having an argument with someone. Better to just put this man in the book. “It looks like he has an opening at eleven thirty. Would that work for you?”

  Chris took a beat. “Yes. That will be fine. Thank you very much, Gregory.” He looked over at Luna, who was sopping up her eggs with toasted rye bread. “Eleven thirty. Zero hour.”

  Dribbles of yoke just missed her mouth. “Really?” she said with glee. Chris resisted the temptation to wipe her mouth and gestured for her to pick up her napkin. Gosh, she can be so cute sometimes. She got the signal and wiped her mouth.

  “Yes. And no, you cannot come with me.”

  “Party pooper,” Luna said.

  “Is that your favorite term now?” Cullen asked.

  “Only when it fits.” She mugged. “Let’s not forget ‘what are the odds.’ ”

  “Ha. Ha.” Cullen smirked.

  “I need to prep for my meeting,” Chris said. “I want to have everything lined up. I’m going to head back to the hotel and pull my presentation together.”

  “I’m going to head over to the Oculus,” Luna added. “The building that resembles a dove’s tail. I’ve been curious to go inside. There’s supposed to be some interesting shops and art there. Cullen, want to join me?”

  “I have one more meeting with a dealer on the Lower East Side.”

  “Looks like we are all on our own. Let’s meet up for lunch and I’ll recap my meeting with J.R.,” Chris said.

  “Sounds like a plan. Any place in particular?” Cullen asked.

  “How about Bryant Park Grill, behind the New York Public Library? Say twelve thirty? I’m not sure how long my meeting with J.R. is going to last. If I start running late, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll make the rez,” Luna offered. “Do I dare try to take the subway?”

  “Uh, maybe that’s not such a good idea. You. Underground. Alone,” Chris said.

  “I was simply trying to complete my New York experience.”

  “That’s something you can try another time. It’s not something of the finest of what New York has to offer.” Chris grinned.

  “Got it. Taxi,” Luna acquiesced.

  Cullen picked up the check for breakfast, and they went in different directions. Cullen headed east, Luna walked west and Chris went back to the hotel to put his notes together.

  After an hour perusing them, along with the information Cullen and Luna had gathered, Chris was satisfied he had a timeline. The motive? Obviously, money. But why? That was something he wondered if J.R. would be willing to share. It wasn’t as if he was poor. His family could surely have given him whatever he wanted. And it was rather apparent they did. He decided on a more casual, less imposing look, so opted for slacks, a button-down shirt and a blazer. He didn’t think a tie would be necessary for the chat he was going to have. By eleven he was ready to take on this challenge. For one thing, he was not officially on the case. He wasn’t sure if there would be any ramifications should this go to a higher level.

  He arrived at the main building of the Metropolitan Savings and Loan. He checked in with security, using his US Marshal identification. The security guard stood at attention when he saw Chris’s credentials. “To your left. Eighth floor, sir.”

  Chris was often amused at the reaction he got from people who thought they were in law enforcement. Not that there was anything wrong with being a security guard. It was a respectable living. But when push came to shove—or worse—you wanted an experienced law enforcement officer backing you. He was also aware that many security guards were former NYPD. If you started in the police force at twenty-three, you could retire by age forty-five and start another career. That was if you wanted to keep working and stay in the metropolitan area.

  The receptionist greeted Chris as he entered through the glass doors. “Good morning. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning. I have an appointment with J.R. Pierce.”

  She looked at his ID and sat up straighter. He smiled to himself. What was with people and the US Marshals Service? Was he that intimidating? Or maybe it was because most people didn’t interact with marshals on a regular basis. Face it: Most people never did. She dialed a number. “Gregory? Marshal Gaines is here to see J.R. Okay. Will do.” She pointed her pen over her right shoulder. “Around the corner and down the hall.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her his friendliest smile and made his way to the outer office. “Gregory?” Chris asked the impeccably dressed young man seated at the desk.

  “Yes!” He stood. “Marshal Gaines?”

  “Correct.”

  “I was able to speak to J.R. and let him know you were coming. He is rather busy today. Some big to-do in Jersey, but he can spare a few minutes. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  * * *

  J.R. had almost soiled his pants when Gregory told him a US marshal was stopping by. The walls were closing in. He could feel it. He felt trapped. He had reached for a glass of Scotch a few minutes before Gaines was due to arrive. He jumped when the intercom buzzed.

  “Marshal Gaines is here.”

  “Send him in.” J.R. was dreading every minute of what was to come. He straightened his tie and rose from his desk. Gregory opened the door and Gaines strode in.

  “Thanks for taking the time to see me, J.R.” Chris shook his hand. “That was quite an event on Saturday.”

  J.R. knew in his gut this man was not there to recap the gallery opening or discuss the merits of the grilled octopus at the Tribeca Grill. “Yes, it was. But I don’t think that’s why you are here. Is it?” He went back to the credenza and poured an inch of Scotch into his glass. He turned to the marshal. “Care to join me?”

  “It’s a little early for me.”

  “Official business?” J.R. asked suspiciously.

  “Perhaps. That’s up to you.” Chris waited for J.R. to offer him a seat.

  “Fine. So, why don’t you tell me why you are really here.” He finally gestured for Chris to sit. J.R. took the chair facing him.

  Chris began. “In 2003, while you were attending Briarcliff Academy, an incident occurred in which you were allegedly abducted.” He let the word “allegedly” sink in for a moment. “According to the official report, you were taken from your room by two men in masks. You had little recollection from the time they took you until you realized you were in a delivery van. They then took you to a motel, where they held you captive in a bathroom. You never saw their faces. Two days later, they brought you to the side of the road near the intersection of Newman Springs Road and Route 34.” Chris paused. “Do I have it right so far? As far as the report goes?” he clarified. “In the interim, the kidnappers asked your parents for one million dollars to be delivered to a shack in Colts Neck. Shortly thereafter you were released.”

  “That’s what the report says,” J.R. said curtly.

  “It does. But we are working on another theory.” He failed to mention the “we” was Luna, Cullen and himself and not the US Marshals Service.

  J.R. pretended to be surprised. “Oh?”

  Chris flipped open his notebook. “We also have information indicating you called Longmire Salvage and arranged for them to pick up some furniture that had been sitting in a back building for some time.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, that happened to be around the same time as your abduction.”

  “What are you getting at, Marshal?” J.R. was becoming unglued but was trying to hold it together.

  “What I am getting at is that you staged the entire thing. You locked yourself in an armoire knowing it was going to be removed. You made your way to New Jersey to a farm you visited when you attended Horace Mann. When you were at the farm during a spring break trip, you and your friends discovered a series of tunnels that led to a shack in the middle of a field.” Chris paused. “How am I doing so far?”

  J.R. saw exactly where this was going. “Continue.”

  “Either you were in it alone or you had some help. In any case, you essentially extorted money from your family.”

  J.R. couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I was up to my neck in debt.”

  “But how? You were only eighteen.” Chris tried to keep the surprise from his voice.

  “Yes, and I had a fake ID and there was a casino within an hour of the school. One of the kids had a car and we would sneak out to gamble.”

  “But where did you get the money to gamble with?” Chris was taking notes now.

  “I borrowed it.”

  “That was probably your second mistake,” Chris said plainly.

  “My second?” J.R. wasn’t sure what the first one was.

  “You went to the casino in the first place. Ergo, your second mistake was to borrow money.” Chris continued, “But why did you carve ‘HELP!’ into a panel of the armoire?”

  “Just in case my plan went sideways. I could pretend I got locked in as a prank. I got bored waiting for them to drop it off. I was a teenager. Teenagers do stupid things. Obviously.”

  That was probably his biggest mistake of all, Chris thought to himself. It’s what got Luna on the case.

  J.R. was starting to feel a strange sensation wash over him. He was cleansing himself of years of shame and guilt. “Yes, and the third mistake was to borrow the money from a loan shark.”

  “The things we do when we think we know it all, eh?” Chris acted more sympathetic now. The guy was spilling his guts and he wanted to be sure he collected every bit of info.

  J.R. looked up at Chris. “I owed him two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

  Chris whistled. “How did you manage to rack up a bill like that without getting your legs broken?”

  “I made promises. Used my family name. Blah. Blah. Blah. He took a pull from his glass. “I told him I’d have all of it within a certain time frame, which was when I cooked up the kidnapping scheme.”

  “Why didn’t you just go straight to your parents?”

  “Are you kidding? After all I put them through and all the money I blew?”

  “So you decided to extort money from them instead?” Chris was incredulous at J.R.’s reasoning.

  “Like I said, I was a teenager. I figured they would hate me if I told them I gambled away two hundred fifty thousand dollars, and this way they would feel bad for me after it was over.”

  Chris was almost speechless. Almost. “Then you went to Europe.”

  “Yep. And gambled away another two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

  Chris thought for a moment. “Let’s back it up. When your father dropped the money in the shack, where were you?”

  “I was hiding in the barn on the property. I crawled to the shack and dragged the bags to the barn, then stashed them there until I could get back.”

  “Which was when?” Chris continued to write. He hadn’t thought the confession would come this easily, but occasionally, when people started to talk, they couldn’t stop. They had to unburden themselves. He was grateful this was proving to be the case—in more ways than one—with J.R.

  “It was the next day. I told my parents I needed to go for a drive. Clear my head. I went back to the barn and lugged the bags to a storage unit in Jersey City. Then I drove to the casino in Massachusetts and paid off the loan shark.”

  “What about the rest of the money?” Chris asked casually.

  “As you said, I went to Europe. Blew the other quarter mil in Monaco.”

  Chris was stunned at how cavalier J.R. had been at the time. “And then what happened?”

  “I dropped a lot of coin in Nice and then came home.” J.R. was finally getting the color back in his face. “My father got me a job. By the way, I am very proud of the work I’ve done. Not that it makes up for my sins.” He paused. “Then I bought a car, clothes and put a down payment on a co-op. I met Lindsay and wined and dined her.”

  “Anything left of your indiscretion?”

  “About ten grand.” He gestured toward the credenza. “It’s in the safe.”

  “You kept that money all these years?” Chris asked calmly.

  “I really didn’t need it. I’ve been doing very well, and my wife has her own money.”

  “I see.” Chris closed his notebook. “One last question. How did you get from Longmire to New Jersey?”

  “I stupidly asked one of my former classmates to pick me up and drive me there. He was down and out and I knew he could use the money. Another mistake in the grand scheme of things.” He sighed. “Now what?” J.R. looked at him pleadingly.

  “Now we go and tell your parents.”

  “It will kill my mother,” J.R. said, his eyes welling up.

  “The other option is I turn this report over to the district attorney.” Chris knew the DA couldn’t really do anything with the information, but he thought the bluff might move the needle with J.R. “What do you think would hurt your mother more? Learning the truth from you or the police and the press? You know as soon as this becomes public record, the media will be all over it.” Chris paused. “This can be handled with the utmost diplomacy. It would stay within your family. No one else has to know.”

  J.R. straightened up. “You mean if I confess to my parents and promise restitution, this might go away?”

  “Quite possibly.” Chris was relieved he didn’t have to resort to Plan B. Whatever that would be.

  J.R. nodded. “I owe them that much.”

  Chris was satisfied. In truth, he had been almost sure J.R. would cave and repent. His parents were good, decent people. He had to have at least some of their DNA inside him. “I agree. Why don’t you call them now?”

  J.R. got up and went to his phone, dialed and hit the Speaker button. “Dad? I need to see you and Mom.” He held back a sob. “Today. As in now.”