Page 17 of Last Resort

“Can you find out anything else?” Sean sounded like he was living out hisNCISfantasies.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ben said. “There are a lot of criminals out there.”

Ben switched programs yet again and put in the new name. While the search ran, he and Sean got coffee and talked about the weather, the movies playing at the Regent downtown, and which bar had the best wings.

An alert brought them back to the screen. Ben scanned the report. “Apparently Tom Raines was an accountant for the Atlantic City casino Mob in the 1990s,” Ben read aloud.

“Doesn’t look like he killed anyone or robbed banks, but he probably helped them evade taxes and move money offshore into hidden accounts. Says he disappeared in the early 2000s. No body was found, family eventually declared him legally dead. No one was ever charged with his murder. From the notes, it looks like people either thought he skipped town or got killed by someone who knew how to cover tracks.”

Sean sat back in his chair. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Ben turned to look at him. Sean was intelligent, with sharp street smarts as well. “Why?”

Sean gestured toward the computer with a vague wave of his hand. “So this guy might not do the dirty work, but he knows all the secrets. He’d really have the goods on the Mob—account numbers, banks, dollar amounts. And he had to know they’d come after him if he just vanished—they’d assume he was selling them out to rivals or the feds even if he just wanted to get out of the life.”

Ben nodded. “Sounds right.”

“You didn’t find evidence that he’d testified, so he probably didn’t go to the cops,” Sean went on. “Though I suppose he could have provided evidence and got moved into Witness Protection. Or maybe he just got scared, figured they’d kill him to shut him up at some point, and decided to make his own retirement plan.”

“Maybe.”

“Or,” Sean continued, barely stopping to take a breath since he was on a roll, “maybe he found out about something and decided to give himself a bonus on the way out. Something that would be sure to tide him over. He plans his escape, sets up what he needs, steals the money, and then leaves his old life behind.”

“Ripping off the Mob doesn’t usually end well,” Ben pointed out.

“Only if they know you did it, and they know what you’ve taken,” Sean countered. “Otherwise, it’s friggin’ perfect because they can’t turn you in.”

“They just kill you.”

Sean shrugged. “Every plan has its downsides.”

By the time Chief Hendricks called for them to give their statements two hours later, Ben had compiled a fairly thorough profile of Tom Raines even without access to police records.

“Are you going to share that with the cops?” Sean asked as they walked to the police station.

“I’m going totradeit for more information,” Ben replied. “Cole knows that if he doesn’t fill me in more than he might with a regular civilian, I’ll just call in favors to get what I want. We’ve done this dance before.”

Hendricks was waiting for them and ushered them into a conference room. He was close to Ben’s age and height, with short, sandy brown hair and brown eyes. By this point in the day, reddish stubble shaded his jawline. Hendricks read off the usual disclaimer about their statements being recorded and had them state their names and addresses.

“Tell me what happened,” Hendricks said when the preliminaries were out of the way.

“Exactly what we said when you got to the rental unit,” Ben replied. “The renter had overstayed his reservation, and Jenny asked me to let him know.”

“Why you?”

Ben shrugged. “Most folks are pretty nice, but we’ve had one or two get unpleasant when they are trying to eke out an extra half day without paying. They’re likely to give me fewer problems than they do her.”

“Was there a reason you felt threatened enough to take a bodyguard?” Hendricks asked with a glance at Sean.

Ben and Sean both chuckled. “Old habit and we were together when Jenny called me. Sean and I worked at the rental company for his parents—my aunt and uncle—all the time we were growing up. The nice people weren’t a problem. The rude people were nicer when there were two of us—especially after Sean started lifting weights.”

“And your concealed carry?” Hendricks raised an eyebrow. Ben met his gaze.

“I have a permit. The gun is legal. You know what the past year’s been like. I intended to give up carrying when I moved here and then reconsidered, given everything.”

Hendricks grimaced. “Can’t say I fault you on that. Walk me through, step by step.”

Ben and Sean recounted what they saw, repeating what they had reported at the site.

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