Oh, God. Oz watched as she teared up. Fuck. And now all they needed was to have to console her on top of everything else that was going on. Then he watched in amazement as Gunner stepped forward and wrapping his arms around her, held her as she cried. Oz noticed how tiny she was standing against him. She had to be at least a whole foot shorter than Gun was.
Then he came back to his senses, shaking his head and looking at Jeff. “Detectives haven’t found anything?”
Jeff shook his head right before his phone rang and he excused himself.
Oz reached into his pocket and checked the prepaid for the millionth time. When was the fucker going to call? He looked around and saw that Quinn now sat in one of the leather chairs, Gunner squatting in front of her talking quietly to her as she continued crying. At least he was keeping her occupied.
Jeff came back over. “That was McAdams. Told me they found a hair, but who the fuck knows if it’s mine or Doug’s or yours for that matter. They’re sending it to the lab hoping they can match the DNA. But it’s a long shot. I’m out. He wants me back at the station to go over some things. I’ll grab Quinn and go.” He sighed as he looked at Oz. “Find her, man.”
“Trying,” Oz said putting a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, looking him in the eye and nodding.
“Keep me informed,” Jeff said before walking over to Quinn. He talked to Gunner for a second then helped Quinn up putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her out the door.
***
As Doug lay in his bed, he was pissed. That moronic mob of massive men had come to his house the night before and taken his hopes of becoming a millionaire from him, leaving him with nothing. Well, he’d see about that. He still had the photos on his computer and he could still use them against Hightower. He smiled as he got an idea then got out of bed getting dressed and going upstairs to the kitchen where he met his mother.
“I’m making scrambled eggs,” she said from where she stood in front of the stove as he sat down at the table.
“Mmph,” he mumbled, grabbing the entertainment section of the newspaper on the table. He checked out the pictures they’d printed seeing a few of the parade and noticing several were Tilly’s, which made his heart swell with pride. He decided right then and there he was going to take charge of the situation. Fuck those guys and their heroics in trying to save her. He’d not only save her, he’d also get his money from Hightower. Who’d be the hero then?
“Where are you going? You haven’t even eaten your breakfast,” his mother said as he jumped up and opened the basement door. “You need to drink your liquid fiber! You know how constipated you get if you don’t!” she called after him.
“Jesus,” he muttered as he headed downstairs. He went to his underwear drawer and pulled out the revolver his dad had left him, checking to make sure it was loaded. He tucked it into the back of his jeans and headed back upstairs. He smiled thinking that when he rescued Tilly and got the money out of Hightower, he and she were getting their own place together A-sap that was for damned sure.
***
Oz was sitting in Hank’s office just under an hour later when the prepaid rang. He stood and soberly met Hank’s then Gunner’s eyes then answered.
“Mr. Hightower,” he said.
“And to whom may I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“Just your friendly, local photographer.”
“Ah. I see. So, I guess since you think you’ve ‘got me,’ I should be asking what it is you want.”
Smooth motherfucker. Oz wanted to reach through the phone and wrap a hand around the asshole’s neck and squeeze, that’s what he wanted.
“I want to make a trade.”
He could hear the surprise in Hightower’s voice when he answered, “Oh?”
“The girl for the pictures,” Oz instructed. When Hightower didn’t say anything, Oz checked to make sure he was still on the line. “Hello?” He felt the sweat forming on his brow, knowing his question was damned risky.
“And to what girl would you be referring?” Hightower asked cooly.
“Tilly Maxwell. I know you have her. You tell me where I can find her, I destroy the pictures.”
Hightower laughed. “And how do I know I can trust you?”
Bingo. Hightower hadn’t denied having her and Oz prayed they weren’t being led on a bootless errand. He hated that he was bargaining for Tilly’s life with mere pictures almost as much as he hated what he was about to say.
“You have my word. You don’t deliver, I send the pictures to the police. Plain and simple, Mr. Hightower.”
The line again went silent. Oz thought of the thousands of business calls in which Hightower had negotiated over the years and knew that he’d probably used silence as a form of intimidation to coax the other party into caving. Not this time, asshole. Oz could play it just as cool and wait it out even though he wanted to go Pacquiáo on the guy.
“Well, that is pretty plain and simple.” Oz heard the jerk chuckle, which made him grit his teeth so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised had he busted a couple molars. “How about I bring the girl to you?” Hightower countered.
Hell no. He wasn’t giving Hightower the upper hand here. So again, Oz did something that he hated doing, but he did it nonetheless. He hung up.
“Goddamn it!” he yelled knowing he was putting Tilly’s life on the line. Oh, God, if this led to her being hurt, he’d never forgive himself. “Fuck!”
“Hang in there, son,” Hank said while Gunner nodded at him from where he stood.
Oz knew that if this asshole had Tilly, these guys would put their lives on the line to get her back without question. It was part of the job but he also knew they’d do it for him. He focused on that rather than the fact that he wanted to jack shit up.
A minute later when the phone rang, Oz answered. “I’m in charge here, asshole. You don’t like it, you can sit your ass in prison for the next ten years. Your choice.”
He heard Hightower chuckle darkly then say, “I’ll call you back,” and the line went dead.
“Fuck!” Oz yelled again, squeezing the phone in his hand then placing it carefully on Hank’s desk because what he really wanted to do was throw the son of a bitch against the wall.
Hank’s cell phone rang just then. “Yeah?” he answered. He spoke for a minute then after hanging up informed them that Hightower was on the move and Quaid and Brock were on his tail using the GPS as they went.
“Let’s go,” Oz said going to the safe and grabbing his Ruger putting it in his shoulder holster as Gunner and Hank did the same with their weapons.
As they went through the lobby, Abby hollered at Hank. “You’ve got a call on line three, Mr. Murphy.”
“Take a message,” Hank replied.
“But it’s the mayor,” Abby stated with a frown.
“I said take a goddamned message, Abby,” Hank returned and they were out the door.
At any other time Oz would’ve gotten a chuckle at the fact that Hank had put the hateful secretary in her place, but now that shit was trivial he realized as they got in Hank’s Escalade. Getting Tilly back was his priority now. Screw everything else.
As Gunner drove, Hank sat in the passenger seat and opened the GPS tracker app on his cell phone. “Gotcha,” he muttered. “Call Brock and let him know we’re dialed in,” he told Oz.
Oz made the call and listened while Brock told him they didn’t have a visual but were following Hightower’s car with the signal. “We’re on it too,” Oz informed him.
“Give me the phone,” Hank said, reaching in the back to take Oz’s phone from him. “Brock? You and Quaid let us know when you know the destination. We’re about ten minutes behind.” He hung up, handing Oz back his phone and they rode in silence for the next thirty minutes.
Oz stared blindly out the window praying that Tilly was okay and wondering when Hightower would call back. It barely registered that they were in the Holland Tunnel until his phone rang. “Yeah?”
“It’s Dou
g. I’m following Hightower right now. I’m gonna get Tilly. Just wanted to let you know in case you guys were wanting in on it. I was gonna do this on my own but all I’ve got is my RG-14 and thought maybe I might need some backup.”
Goddamn it. He didn’t want the little weasel getting in their way. “Fall back, Doug. We’re on his tail too.”
“I got this. I’m heading east on the Long Island Expressway. Where’re you guys?”
“We just exited the Holland Tunnel. Why the fuck are you on the LIE?” Oz asked.
“Because I’m following Hightower. This ain’t rocket science, you know. Man, maybe I should apply at your security place. Sounds like you guys could use some help.” Doug snorted.
Wait. What the fuck was going on? “You’re sure it’s Hightower?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I saw him come out of his office building and get into his car. Then I followed him.”
Oz held the phone away from his mouth and told Hank what Doug had said. “What kind of car is he driving?” he said into the phone.
“White Lamborghini.”
“Hank, call Brock and see if they’ve gotten a visual on Hightower yet,” Oz said. “Doug, hang on a sec.”
Wanting to keep an eye on the tracker on his phone, Hank took Gunner’s phone and made the call. After asking Brock about the car, he told Oz, “Black Lexus.”
Oz felt the blood drain from his face. What the hell was going on? “Hank, Doug says Hightower’s in a white Lamborghini.”
He heard Hank telling Brock they needed to get a visual on the driver. “Hang on, Oz.”
“Doug, where are you now?” Oz asked into his phone.
“Near Brentwood,” Doug answered.
“Brock said the Mercedes just stopped at Newport Plaza and only a short, middle-aged woman got out,” Hank informed him.
“Fuck!” Oz roared. “Doug, stay on the line. Gunner, turn around!”
Chapter 21
Graham kept an eye on the yellow PT Cruiser following him knowing it must be the photographer. As he drove, he played a little game with the guy, weaving in and out of traffic with his Lambo smoothly and laughing when the guy couldn’t make the same smooth moves. Idiot. Well, it was now time to call his bluff and let him know he was on to him. He picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d called earlier.
“Well, Mr. Photographer. I see that your Cruiser isn’t on par with my Lambo. You know, you’re not very good at tailing someone.” Graham chuckled.
“It’s not like it’s that hard to tail someone. I wanted you to know I was following you,” the guy replied.
Cocky little SOB. Graham could hear someone talking in the background, but since he couldn’t see anyone else in the car with the photographer he figured it must be the radio.
“And that you did. Good thing there’s so much traffic or I could definitely leave you in the dust.”
“I’m sure you could. Exactly where are we headed?”
Graham laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Shutterbug. And what kind of a deal are you wanting to make once we get there?”
“I want the girl.”
Graham laughed again. “And you’ll just hand over the pictures, right? How do I know you don’t have copies and won’t try using them against me anyway?”
“I won’t. Again, you have my word.”
“Hm. I have your word. And I’m just supposed to believe that?”
“Believe what you want, Mr. Hightower. All I want is Ms. Maxwell.”
“This woman must mean a lot to you, Mr. Cameraman. And I see the tables have turned. Now who has the upper hand?”
Graham heard the guy curse which made him chuckle. He hung up then eyed the Glock in his passenger seat. This idiot had no idea who he was dealing with.
***
“Fucking hell,” Oz spit out. Hightower was one cool fucking customer. “Let me talk to him,” he said to Hank, who’d been talking to Doug while Oz had spoken to Hightower. And hadn’t things just gotten even messier. “Doug, stay with him, but whatever you do, do not get out of your car once you stop. Or if there’s a driveway do not follow him. Stay on the road and wait for us to get there. Do you understand?”
“I’m not an idiot. I’m not the one who was going the wrong way.” He snickered. “I think I can handle things. I want to get Tilly back. She’s mine, you know,” Doug clued him in.
Good God. Not only was the guy looking to get his head blown off he was delusional on top of that.
“We’ll let her decide that. Just, please, don’t do anything until we get there, understand?”
“I’ll do what I have to do,” Doug said and hung up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oz hissed out. “That dumbass is gonna screw everything up!” His blood pressure went through the roof as he let out a string of curses.
Next up? Some serious anger management courses for real. He rubbed a hand over his face then gave Doug’s number to Hank so they could track his phone. Next, he called Brock and did the same.
“Got him,” Hank said.
“Think we could add another fucking phone to this godforsaken excursion we’ve got going on here?” Oz spit out, still pissed at everyone and everything. He just wanted to get Tilly back safe and sound. Was that too fucking much to ask?
He knew Gunner was going as fast as he could, but he wished he’d go faster. When they finally hit the LIE, Hank told them that Doug’s phone had stayed put for the past ten minutes somewhere around Southampton.
“About twenty more minutes and we’re there,” Hank reported.
Oz called Jeff to let him know where they were heading. Jeff said he’d call it in and just as Oz hung up, Doug called.
“I got him!” he said. He proceeded to give Oz the address and describe the surroundings a little.
“Doug, get the fuck out of there!” Oz said.
“I got this! Wait. He’s getting out of his car. I’ll call you back.” And the line went dead.
***
Graham had to laugh at the boldness the man in the Cruiser was showing. He’d followed Graham up the long, winding drive right to Zim’s house and now sat in his car not thirty feet away.
“Dumb fuck,” Graham muttered to himself as he grabbed his Glock from the passenger seat. Holding the gun to his side, he walked toward the stupid, yellow car noticing the guy’s eyes go saucer big when he got a load of the gun. Graham tapped on the window with the muzzle.
“I’m not opening the window!” the guy yelled as he scrambled trying to grab something out of the glove box. Then he got brave or stupid, take your pick, as he aimed a revolver at Graham. “I’m not leaving until you hand over Tilly. I’ve got friends holding on to the rest of your pictures and if they don’t hear from me within the next thirty minutes, I told them to take them to the police,” he shouted through the glass.
Out of patience, Graham held his gun to the window and smiled as he watched the look of consternation on the guy’s face right before he fired.
***
Tilly jumped up when she heard the front door open then close. Now all she could do was wait and pray for courage at what she had planned.
She’d finally figured out who her kidnapper was: Graham Hightower, one of New York City’s most successful businessmen. She remembered seeing him in the paper years before, touted as bachelor of the year or something like that. She also vaguely recalled Quinn gushing over the guy when they were in college when he’d been showcased in People as one of the sexiest men alive.
The night before when she’d searched the bathroom, she’d found something she might be able to use to get out of there, and she’d been waiting for Hightower to show up so she could escape. She didn’t allow herself to think of what would happen if it didn’t work. She only knew she had to stay focused and hope it worked.
“Stay strong, throw, swing then run,” she whispered to herself over and over as she picked up what she’d found in the bathroom then waited for the bedroom door to open.
S
he now heard Hightower holler, “Honey, I’m home!” which made her want to vomit. Holding the bottle in her hand, she grabbed the heavy dresser drawer she’d removed pulling it close and positioned herself behind the bedroom door waiting for him to come inside. Then she waited. And waited. And waited some more. She could hear him talking on his phone and thought she heard him mention the name Moretti. She’d heard of the Morettis and knew they were Mafia, so wasn’t that just great. This guy was freaking bad news all the way around. God.
When she finally heard footsteps coming toward her door, she tensed, her hands clutching the bottle ready for him to come into the room. Sweat ran down her sides as she lived a year in a minute. Then she heard his phone ring and he answered, stepping away from her door.
“Fuck!” she whisper-hissed then covered her mouth, not able to help the hysterical chuckle that came out when she thought that Jeff would’ve been so proud of her use of bad language. She shook her head and rolled her eyes snorting at herself knowing she’d reached the edge of insanity. When she heard Hightower coming toward the door again she pushed her hysteria down, ready to take him out as she heard him turning the lock.
“So, how’s my little wom—Jesus!” Hightower cried out as Tilly splashed the drain cleaner in his face trying to get his eyes as best she could. Then she turned and picked up the drawer and slammed it into his head making him fall to the floor.
She didn’t hang around to see if she’d knocked him out, but ran out the door and down the hallway in the direction from which she thought she’d heard him come. And what do you know, she’d gone the right way. She came to the front door and grabbing the handle, yanked on it hard. But the door stayed closed.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Please!” She saw the deadbolt and reached for the thumbturn twisting it then threw the door open, running out onto the porch and down the steps. She saw Doug’s car in the drive and ran to it, pounding on his passenger window. “Doug! Doug! Let me in!” she yelled until she realized he wasn’t answering. She stepped back and a horrified look appeared on her face when she saw him slumped in his seat, his jacket soaked in blood and she screamed.
Unbreakable Hearts Page 21
