Chapter XLIII
CHAPTER XLIII
I decided to drop by and speak to Zetta Nadeau on the way back to Scarborough, since it wasn’t much of a detour. I found her out front, using a dolly to move sheets of metal from the back of a pickup to her studio. She paused as I stepped from the car but didn’t try to open the gate.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“No, I’ve got it.”
And still the gate remained closed.
“Do we have an issue, Zetta?”
“I was going to call you when I was done. I’ve been thinking: I want you to stop looking for Wyatt.”
“And why is that?”
“If he’s so eager not to be found, let him stay that way. I don’t see why I should waste any more of my time or money on him.”
She folded her arms in anticipation of an argument. If so, she wasn’t going to get one.
“That’s fine,” I said. “I’ll bill you for the remaining hours, and our contract will be concluded.”
Zetta looked relieved. Slowly, she unfolded her arms.
“I thought you’d be annoyed,” she said, “or try to pressure me into continuing.”
“You’re the client. If you want to step back, that’s your right.”
I waited. Zetta wasn’t dumb, so it didn’t take her long to spot the catch.
“You’re going to stop searching for him?”
“No.”
“But I’ve asked you to, and I won’t keep paying you.”
“You’re free to ask, but I’m not obliged to comply. As for the money, there’s a certain liberation in working purely for pleasure.”
Zetta approached the fence and gripped its links, like a prisoner begging for release.
“I want you to stop. I’m telling you to stop.”
“When did he contact you, Zetta?”
She stared at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She spoke very slowly, as though wary of stumbling and leaving herself more exposed. “If Wyatt has gotten himself into trouble, I don’t want it spreading to me—or you.”
What she was saying might have some truth to it, but we both knew that she was using it in the service of a lie. Riggins had been in touch, and at the instigation of Devin Vaughn or one of his underlings.
“Where is he, Zetta?” I asked gently.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the wire.
“He didn’t say.”
“Zetta—”
“He promised me he was safe and well, and I told him I’d been so worried that I’d hired someone to find him. He wasn’t angry, but he asked me to call you off, which is what I’m trying to do. If he’s in no danger, you don’t need to search for him. I want him left alone.”
“Did he say why he’d run?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Actually, it does. I think your boyfriend was involved in the abduction of children from Mexico, and the man he seized them from has taken it amiss. That man is a cartel boss named Blas Urrea. He’s filled deserts with unmarked graves, and now he’s looking for Wyatt, which is why Wyatt left town without so much as a farewell kiss. Unfortunately for you, it’s well known at BrightBlown that you and Wyatt were an item, and I think BrightBlown is owned by the same person who hired Wyatt to take those kids. There’s a real danger that some unpleasant individuals are about to come knocking on doors up here, yours included, unless Wyatt does the right thing.”
Even then, I doubted it would save him, but it might protect Zetta. Her face, though, remained impassive.
“I’d like you to leave now,” she said. “I don’t want you to bother me again.”
“I can’t promise that, Zetta, and it’s not like you can call the police if I persist.”
I moved closer to the fence, so close that I could smell her sweat. I saw in her face that nothing I’d shared had come as a shock.
“He told you about the children, didn’t he? Was it before or after you hired me? Of course, it must have been after: you wouldn’t have asked me to look for him otherwise. You’d have been afraid of what I might discover.”
So Riggins had called her and admitted to some or all of what he’d done, but rather than cut him loose or persuade him to rectify matters, Zetta had doubled down. She was betting the house on Wyatt Riggins—and her life, too. I made one last push.
“Those children have to be returned, Zetta. Tell me who they are.”
“They’re none of your concern.”
“I’ve elected to make them my concern.”
“Then on your own head be it,” she said.
And Zetta stalked off.