Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

had undoubtedly thought of that, but concluded that to do so would have placed his family in too much danger.
    Kate’s worst fear was confirmed when she drove past Lariat Circle and saw Stimson’s Ford Explorer parked on Motherlode Drive. The license plate number was different, but Stimson had probably changed plates once she realized the police were looking for her. Kate parked on a street behind the Lariat Circle cul-de-sac so she could approach Kincaid’s home from the rear. She would have to negotiate a six-foot cedar fence that enclosed his backyard, hoping none of the neighbors would see her and call the police.
    Kincaid’s home was just as Patti had described it: a two-level affair with a daylight walkout basement leading onto a stone patio. Fortunately, several mature blue spruces scattered throughout the yard provided a measure of cover as Kate scaled the fence and ran for the house. Finding a way in was the next trick. She tried the French doors leading into the basement. They were locked. Next she tried an aluminum sliding window into what she guessed was a bedroom. Again, it was locked. When she removed a screen that covered a small, opaque glass window that opened into what had to be a bathroom, her luck changed. She was in.
    ***
    I wasn’t sure whether trying to reason with Stimson would work, but I didn’t have many options. I was willing to try any ploy I could think of to buy time. I didn’t want to risk her anger by appearing condescending or self-righteous.
    “Carol, why don’t you release my family? There’s nothing to be gained by harming an eight-year-old girl and an elderly woman. Do what you want with me, but let them go.”
    “Fuck you, Kincaid, you brought this on yourself. You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you? You had to turn against your own. Without your help, the cops would never have figured it out. So it’s time to pay the piper, and in this case, I’m the piper.”
    My appeal to her maternal instincts went for naught. She actually seemed to be enjoying the moment, a bemused expression on her face and in her tone of voice. This was one lady I just didn’t understand. I tried a different approach.
    “Look, Carol, why dig yourself into a deeper legal hole? If you stop now, cooperate with us, you can avoid being strapped to a gurney with an IV in your arm.”
    “That’s fuckin’ lame, Kincaid, and you know it. You think I’m interested in becoming one of those caged fuckin’ animals?—not likely, asswipe. Besides, they’re already planning to put the needle in my arm, so I don’t have much to lose, now do I? But they’ve got to find me first. And I’ve got something to say about that.”
    She was probably right. I decided to try one last strategy. I would lie to Stimson, hoping the shock value of what I told her might give her second thoughts. I recognized that I might merely unleash the rage I sensed was never far from the surface. If she were operating solo without the approval of her partners, she might not be able to tell truth from falsehood. The lives of my family depended on it.
    “Let me tell you something you don’t know. We picked up one of your partners, Bill Allred, this afternoon, and he’s been downtown telling quite a story. He isn’t worried about you or any of the others. He’s down there cutting a deal for himself. We know a lot more than you think we do. It’s amazing what you can learn from a wiretap. Besides you and Allred, your little group includes Steve Schumway and Bob Fuller. We know you arranged for Slick Watts to kill Levi. We also know you killed Watts, and most recently, Milo Sorensen. The party’s over, Carol. You need to give it up and start looking out for yourself. Nobody else is going to do that for you.”
    For the first time, the look on her face had changed to one of shock and surprise. “What’s it really matter,” she sighed. “It’s all over anyway. Things were going along just fine until we decided to approach Vogue. That’s when everything went to hell.”
    “What do you mean, approach Vogue?” I asked.
    Try to keep her talking, I thought.
    She smiled faintly and said, “I guess I can tell you. You won’t be around long enough to repeat any of it.
    “We’d been using Allred to sell parole release dates for two years. Unfortunately, the Board votes in panels of three. We needed a second vote to guarantee every outcome. As Levi and Bill became friends, it became clear that Vogue was up to his ass