by Tim Kizer
As Sam bound Luke’s feet, a woman began to moan loudly in the room next door. Grinning, Sam looked at Jeff and said, “Someone’s fucking.”
“Yeah.” Jeff chuckled. He pulled the gun, a Glock 17, out of the bag and put it in his jacket pocket. “When are you going to call Pruitt?”
“Now.”
Sam went outside, got in the car, and dialed Eric Pruitt’s number. He didn’t want to talk to Pruitt in the room because he feared that Luke could hear.
Pruitt answered after three rings.
“Good evening, Mister Pruitt. This is Jake Ford. I’m sorry to call so late.”
“It’s all right.”
“We found a person willing to trade bodies with your son. I can give you a sample of his blood tomorrow morning. What time are you free?”
“Let’s meet at ten a.m. Are you going to bring him to my office?”
“We’re going to meet at his hotel room. He’s staying at the Sheraton in downtown Dallas.”
Sam didn’t think Pruitt would mind meeting at the Sheraton because the hotel was less than two miles from his office.
“Okay. Let’s meet there at ten. What’s his room number?”
“Eleven fourteen. How is Paul doing?”
“He’s okay.”
“I’m glad to hear that. See you tomorrow at ten. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
When Sam returned to the room, he hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
“Did you talk to him?” Jeff asked.
“Yes. We’re meeting tomorrow morning at ten.”
The woman was still moaning in the room next door. Sam felt his penis harden.
“At the Sheraton?”
“Yes.” Sam switched on the heater. “When is he going to wake up?”
“In an hour.”
“I’m going to Burger King. Do you want me to get you something?”
“Get me two chicken sandwiches.” Jeff turned on the TV.
“Okay.”
2
Sam drove to the Burger King three blocks from the Vagabond Motel and bought two Whoppers, two bacon cheeseburgers, two chicken sandwiches, a garden side salad, and a Diet Coke. When he got back to the motel, he discovered that Jeff had latched the door.
“It’s me, Jake,” Sam announced.
“Okay.” Jeff went to the door and let him in.
They sat down at the table, facing Luke.
“You know what they say about carrots?” Jeff said, plucking a carrot from the salad. “Everyone who’s ever eaten a carrot has died or will die.”
He chuckled.
As he unwrapped a chicken sandwich, Jeff asked, “Who’s going to watch over him at night?”
“Can you do it?” Sam bit into his cheeseburger.
“Yeah.”
“Wake me up at six-thirty.”
“Who’s going to wipe his ass after he takes a shit?” Jeff smiled.
“We’ll flip a coin.”
They laughed.
Jeff ate both chicken sandwiches and Sam one cheeseburger.
Luke woke at ten o’clock. He sat up and looked around, confusion on his face. When he reached to remove the duct tape from his mouth, Jeff, who was sitting on the other bed, pointed his gun at him and said, “Hey, pal. Don’t touch it.”
Pale with fear, Luke looked at Sam.
“Luke, you’ve been kidnapped,” Sam said. “But don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Do as we tell you, and you won’t get hurt.” He picked the hunting knife up from the table. “I’m going to take that tape off. If you scream, I’ll cut your throat.” Sam waved the knife. “Do you understand?”
Luke nodded.
Sam peeled the tape off Luke’s mouth, wadded it up, and threw it in the bag.
“Are you hungry?” he said. “I bought you a hamburger.”
“No.” Luke shook his head. “What do you want from me?”
“We want your parents to pay us a hundred grand.”
“They don’t have that kind of money. They’re not rich. They’re regular people.”
“Your mother said they’d find the money.”
“You talked to my mother?”
“Yeah. We gave your parents five days to come up with the money.”
“What if they don’t find it?”
Sam smiled. “Relax, Luke. We’re not going to kill you. Do you promise not to tell anyone who kidnapped you?”
Luke nodded vigorously. “Yes, I promise.”
“Excellent. I believe you. Are you going to do as we tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Your best course of action is to do nothing. Do not take chances, okay?”
“Okay. Can I have something to drink?”
“Sure.” Sam opened a bottle of water and gave it to Luke.
Luke drank some water and then said, “Why did you choose me? I don’t look rich.”
“You don’t look dirt poor, either.”
“It’s going to take my parents more than five days to find a hundred grand.”
“We’re willing to wait. And we’re willing to lower the ransom. We’d settle for seventy grand.”
“How many times have you done this before?”
“Two.”
“Did you kill any of those people?”
“No. Do you have any more questions?”
“You’re not going to kill me, right?”
“We’re not going to kill you, I promise.”
Sam taped Luke’s mouth and then, at Jeff’s suggestion, cuffed his hands behind his back.
An hour later Sam ate the other cheeseburger. He asked Luke again if he was hungry. Luke shook his head.
Sam went to bed at midnight. He didn’t turn off the lights: Jeff said the light would help him stay awake.
“Wake me up when you feel sleepy,” he told Jeff.
3
Sam was awakened by a beeping sound. When he rolled onto his back, Jeff slapped his thigh and said, “Wake up!”
Sam sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked at Luke. Luke lay on his side, asleep. Sam glanced at his watch. It was 6:30 a.m.
“When did he fall asleep?” he asked.
“Around four hours ago.” Jeff yawned.
The Whoppers Sam had bought for Luke were still in the bag.
Sam went to the rental van, which sat in the motel parking lot, took out the folding wheelchair, and returned to the room. After Jeff gave Luke an injection of chlorpromazine, they lifted Luke from the bed and put him in the wheelchair. Then Sam removed the handcuffs and cut the rope binding Luke’s feet. To prevent Luke’s face from being caught on the Sheraton’s security cameras, Sam placed large sunglasses on Luke’s face and a baseball cap on his head.
“Let’s cuff him to the wheelchair,” Jeff said.
“Okay.”
Sam cuffed Luke’s right hand to the wheelchair armrest, covered the handcuffs with his jacket, and said, “Luke, if you scream, I’ll stab you to death.”
They got Luke into the van and headed for the Sheraton, with Sam driving.
Luke remained silent and motionless all the way to their hotel room. Sam carefully watched Luke’s face while in the lobby and the eleventh-floor hallway.
“Did he go to the bathroom?” Sam asked when Jeff lay down on the bed.
“Yeah.” Jeff closed his eyes. “He pissed in a cup.”
“Did you uncuff him?”
“No.”
“Did you hold his dick?”
“No.”
Sam took the bag with blood supplies out of the duffel and put it on the table. His stomach was churning. What if Pruitt changed his mind? What if he got in a terrible car accident this morning? What if he died in that accident?
He wasn’t worried about the blood test. He was pretty sure the test wouldn’t reveal anything that would make Pruitt demand a different body: ninety-five percent of twenty-one-year-old men were in fairly good health.
At nine-thirty Sam injected Luke with one hundred milligrams of chlorpromazine. Th
en he put on his suit and tie, removed the handcuffs, and woke up Jeff. They took the jacket off Luke and laid him on the bed. Sam put the wheelchair in the closet. At a quarter to ten Eric Pruitt called and told Sam that he was on his way to the Sheraton. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. It was Pruitt.
“Is that him?” Pruitt asked, pointing at Luke.
“Yes,” Sam replied.
“Is he asleep?”
“Yes.”
Sam washed his hands and then sat down in the chair next to the bed. The blood collection supplies lay on the nightstand, which he had covered with a towel.
“Can you wake him up?” Pruitt stood beside Sam.
“Let him sleep. Sleep relaxes the brain, which will help the transfer process.” Sam put on latex gloves.
“What’s his name?”
“Luke.” Sam tied a tourniquet around Luke’s right arm. “He’s as healthy as a horse. He goes to the gym three times a week.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-one.” Sam found a vein in Luke’s forearm and tapped it with his fingers.
“Is he an American?”
“Yes.”
“Can I take his picture?”
Sam wiped Luke’s forearm with an alcohol swab. He looked as if he was experienced in drawing venous blood, although he’d practiced the procedure only twice before, on Jeff, using the instructions he’d found on the Internet.
“Sure.”
He’s afraid we’ll switch Luke with someone sick, Sam thought as he attached a needle to the syringe.
Pruitt pulled out his phone and snapped Luke’s picture. Then he went to the foot of the bed, lifted Luke’s pant legs, and said to Jeff, “Can you take off his socks, please?”
Would you like to check his dick and balls, too? Sam thought.
Jeff stripped off Luke’s socks, and Pruitt bent down and examined Luke’s feet. He seemed to be pleased with what he saw.
“Take the sample to the lab right away, please,” Sam said, drawing blood into the syringe.
“Okay.”
“If we don’t do it this Saturday, you’ll have to wait another month.”
As Sam transferred the blood to a blood collection tube, Pruitt asked, “Can I talk to Luke today or tomorrow?”
“Yes. If he agrees to talk to you.”
Why did Pruitt want to talk to Luke? Did he suspect they were forcing Luke to trade bodies with his son?
If Pruitt loved his son, he shouldn’t care how they had gotten Luke to swap bodies with Paul.
Sam put the collection tube in a zipper bag and handed the bag to Pruitt. “Bring your son to our office this Saturday at eight p.m. Please don’t be late.” He stood up.
“Eight p.m. Okay.” Pruitt looked at the collection tube for a moment and then pocketed it.
“Have a nice day, Eric.”
“Have a nice day, Mister Pruitt,” Jeff said.
Pruitt shook Sam’s hand and left the room.
Chapter 34
1
“Do you remember me?” Aguero asked.
Edward Phillips nodded. “Yeah, I remember you.”
It was December 1. Seven weeks had passed since he made Phillips an offer, and Aguero was hoping he had changed his mind.
“I’m Detective Carlos Aguero with the Austin Police Department. I’m investigating the murder of Laura Sumner.”
“I remember that.”
“My offer still stands. Do you know who killed Laura Sumner?”
Phillips shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“If you help us catch Laura Sumner’s killer, the governor will commute your death sentence. Do you understand that?”
“Yes. I don’t know who killed her.”
Aguero felt a prickle of disappointment. He had driven two hundred miles for nothing. “Did you have a partner?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did anyone help you kill Helen Hinton?”
“I didn’t kill that girl.”
Aguero stared at his notepad for a moment, and then said, “I talked to your mother. She wants you to cooperate with us. She wants you to help us find Laura’s killer.”
Phillips said nothing.
“Your mother loves you very much, Edward. She doesn’t want you to die.”
“I love her, too.”
“Why are you protecting this person?”
“I’m not protecting anyone.”
Perhaps he would change his mind after all his appeals failed.
“Laura was killed by someone you know. Tell us his name.”
“I don’t know who killed Laura.”
“Your death’s going to break your mother’s heart. There’s nothing worse for a mother than to bury her child.”
“I miss my mom. Can you ask the warden to let me call her? I haven’t heard her voice in a year.”
“Sure. I’ll do my best.”
His boss should be able to persuade the Warden of the Allan B. Polunsky Unit to let Edward Phillips give his mother a call.
“Do you have her cellphone number? Phillips asked.
“Yes. Let me write it down for you.” Aguero pulled out his phone, found Emily Phillips’s number, and wrote it on his pad. Then he ripped out the page with the number and gave it to Phillips.
“Do you miss your dad?” Aguero asked.
After a brief hesitation, Phillips said, “Yes, I do.”
Aguero made a mental note of Phillips’s hesitation, but he didn’t want to read too much into it.
“Have you gotten used to this place?”
“I don’t think you can get used to this place.”
“Let me help you get out of here, Edward. Tell me who killed Laura Sumner.”
“Can you get the governor to pardon me?”
“We’ll try.”
“You think I had a partner.”
“Yes.”
“For the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say my partner killed Laura Sumner. Will you ask the governor to commute my sentence if he’s acquitted? Guilty people go free all the time, you know.”
“This is Texas. If there’s evidence, he’s going to be convicted.” Aguero leaned forward. “What’s his name?”
“I didn’t say I had a partner.”
Aguero closed his pad. “Think about your mother, Edward. Don’t break her heart.”
Chapter 35
1
“Do you think he believes we’re paying Luke a million bucks to switch bodies with his son?” Jeff said, opening a bottle of Diet Coke.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.” He looked at Luke, who was sleeping peacefully on the sofa.
They had arrived at New Horizons’ office at half past six in the evening. Luke’s face was concealed from the building’s security cameras by the same sunglasses and baseball cap he’d worn at the Sheraton two days ago.
Luke had been a good boy: he had never called for help or tried to escape. Since neither of them wanted to wipe his ass, they let Luke defecate without handcuffs. On Thursday, to make their lie believable, Sam took a picture of Luke holding Thursday’s issue of USA Today. They told Luke they’d email the photo to his parents to prove he was alive. After taking the picture, Sam drove five miles from the Vagabond Motel, parked the car, and switched on Luke’s phone. He discovered that Luke’s mother had called him four times and sent him three text messages since the abduction. Sam sent Luke’s mother a message saying, “I’m OK. I’m at my friend’s place.” On Friday night, he sent her another message, which read: “I’m fine. I’m still at my friend’s place.”
This morning Luke had showered for the first time since Wednesday night and put on new underwear, socks, and T-shirt.
“Tomorrow we’ll become millionaires.” Jeff smiled.
“As soon as we get the money, I’ll buy a Ferrari.”
Sam wore a dark suit and tie, and Jeff brown khakis and a blue long-sleeved shirt.
Jeff glanced at his watch. �
��It’s time for another shot.”
He got up, grabbed the syringe, and gave Luke an injection of chlorpromazine.
Sam’s burner phone rang. It was Eric Pruitt.
“We’re on our way,” Pruitt said. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Excellent.”
Pruitt brought two people with him: his son and his assistant Ryan.
“Ryan will wait in the hallway,” Pruitt said.
Ryan was clean-shaven, in his late thirties, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a suit and tie. When Sam had first seen him, he had thought he was Pruitt’s bodyguard.
Maybe he was Pruitt’s assistant-slash-bodyguard?
“He can wait here, if he wants,” Sam said.
Ryan accepted the invitation and sat down in a chair in the larger room.
Paul Pruitt was tall and skinny, with a gaunt face and short brown hair. Sam motioned him and Eric Pruitt to follow him into the smaller room.
He led Paul to the sofa and said, “This is Luke. We’re going to transfer your consciousness to his brain. Do you like his body?”
“Yeah, he looks good,” Paul said, his eyes fixed on Luke.
Sam turned to Eric and asked, “Is Paul allergic to Ambien?”
“No. Are you going to give him Ambien?”
“Yes. The procedure requires that the subject be asleep.”
Paul sat down in a chair.
“Did you and your son agree on a password?” Sam said.
“Yes, we did.”
“Have you thought up the questions you’re going to ask to verify your son’s identity?”
“Yes.”
“How long is the procedure going to take?” Paul asked.
“About two hours,” Sam replied. “Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“There’s no need to be nervous. We have a one hundred percent success rate.”
Sam picked a bottle of Ambien and a bottle of water up from the desk, handed them to Paul, and said, “This is Ambien. Please take two pills.”
Paul put two tablets in his mouth and washed them down with water.
“Now sit back and relax,” Sam said. He closed the door and then said to Eric in a low voice, “Just to remind you, Eric, the procedure costs twenty million dollars.”
“I remember that.”
“Of course. If you verify your son’s identity tonight, we’d like you to wire the money tomorrow.”
