In his rear view mirror a half-block away he saw Megan reach the sidewalk and head in the opposite direction. Turning right at the next corner, he upped his speed on the long block toward the lake. At Lake Shore Drive he stopped and turned right, passed the yacht club entrance on his left and turned right again at the next side street.
He had driven around the block, with the expectation that he would meet the girl on this street, halfway between the party house and the club. Now he searched up the street on the sidewalk ahead of him, and, yes, there she was, walking his way.
As he approached, he slowed the Topaz, lowered the power window on the passenger side, took a long, deep breath, then let it out. He had practiced for this moment almost incessantly for the past week, but now it was actually happening and much sooner than he had expected. Feeling the moisture from his palms on the steering wheel, he pulled to the curb and stopped a few feet in front of Megan. Would his voice crack, his words tumble over each other? He leaned toward the open window.
“Hi, Megan.” Two short words, the voice okay so far. She was, after all, the same age as his students.
Looking into the Topaz, she seemed puzzled and surprised. Her dark eyes were pert and intelligent but hazed a bit, perhaps by the pot. She was clearly curious about this dark-haired, well-dressed man calling her by name.
“What?” she said.
“Hi, Meg, I’m Tony Molina. Your mom sent me to look for you.”
The eyes focused and cased him warily. “Why? Who are you?”
“Tony Molina. I work for your father. Your mom couldn’t find you, and she had to go home. She asked me to look for you, bring you back to the house.”
Hesitating, she stared at him for a moment and then asked, “How do you know me?”
“I work for your father.” John felt like he had just started breathing again after several seconds, reassured that so far she’s asked only the expected stuff. “I’ve been out to the house a couple times and saw you, but you probably didn’t notice me.”
The girl still hesitated. “How did you find me?”
Another one he was prepared for. “Just got lucky. Actually your mom mentioned you knew somebody in this neighborhood.”
The girl’s face clouded, the eyes narrowing. This was it. She was going to ask something he couldn’t answer.
Instead, she blurted, “Oh, god, am I in trouble? Was my mother pissed?”
John even tried a wink. “A little, but we can get you home right away, and we’ll think of some story to tell her.”
He wasn’t sure the wink came off, and Megan seemed frozen, not moving for so long that he actually thought about reaching under the seat for the gun. Finally, she moved to lift the handle and opened the passenger door. She started to get in, then stopped. Leaning down and looked squarely at him, again with eyes more focused. “Where’s Robert?”
His mouth went dry and he felt his own eyes flicker for a second at the car’s beige cloth ceiling. It was the first question he wasn’t prepared for. The practiced voice in his head said play for time. “Robert?”
“He always picked me up,” she explained helpfully.
“Oh, Bobby, yeah, he had to go to the airport to pick up your grandfather. He’s coming in from Phoenix.”
Megan got in and closed the door. “Grandpa Mike’s coming? How come nobody told me?”
“Nobody knew until this morning. He wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Sounds like Grandpa Mike.” She smiled as he glanced at her, and he smiled also as he raised the window on the passenger side and with another push of a button snapped shut the locks on all four doors. Putting the car in gear, he moved away from the curb and used a driveway to turn around, then headed back toward Lake Shore.
The girl turned in the seat to look at him and sounded leery again. “Why do you call him Bobby? Everybody always calls him Robert.”
“I know. That’s why I call him Bobby. Tease him a little.”
“Yeah, I tease him too.” She leaned back in the seat against the door. “I call him my favorite child molester.”
John managed a chuckle that felt strained. “That’s pretty good. I bet he loves that.”
“Yeah, he takes it all right.”
There was no one on this street, car or pedestrian, so he slowed the Topaz and stopped at the curb well before they reach Lake Shore.
“By the way,” he said casually, “I forgot to show you something.”
He reached under the seat, pulled out the .22 and pointed it at her low on the seat. He tried for cold and deadly serious, but watching her smile sink and disintegrate made him bite his lower lip. “Now this is the real thing,” he said, trying the line he’d so often rehearsed. “And it’ll make you very sorry if you don’t do exactly as you’re told.”
Serious fear rimmed those big brown eyes now along with a hint of tears. “Who are you?” Her voice was thin and constricted. “What do you want?”
John managed to keep his voice even. “Right now, I want you to lay down on this seat. Put your head down right here.” He pointed to a spot on the seat next to him, and when she looked at it but did not move, he screamed at her: “Do it now!”
Startled, she flinched and then looked terrified. She quickly followed his command, pressing her cheek against his mother’s plastic seat cover and staring at him from the corner of one eye.
John reached into the backseat to pick up the pink blanket from his mother’s closet. “Good.” His voice was quiet again. “Now if you do as you’re told, you’ll be fine. Nothing bad will happen to you.”
Stuffing the gun between his thighs and unfolding the blanket, he spread it over her. “I’m going to cover you with this, and I don’t want you to move or utter a sound. If you do, you’ll be very sorry. Understand?”
From under the blanket Megan’s small, frightened voice said, “Yes.”
John moved the Topaz away from the curb and was off again, the wheel in his right hand, the .22 in his left. At the end of the residential street he stopped, then turned onto Lake Shore and proceeded at exactly the speed limit in a flow of light traffic. The girl did not move. John did not speak.
After a few minutes he turned off Lake Shore and traveled away from the lake. Approaching the signal light at Grosse Pointe Boulevard, he watched it turn amber and then red and brought the car to a halt. He looked around as he waited, trying to appear nonchalant, but in his rear view mirror he spotted a Grosse Pointe Police patrol car coming up from behind. An electric jolt climbed his spine. They had already found him. Some neighbor had watched the whole thing and called 911.
The patrol car stopped next to him on the right. For a moment he was frozen, short of breath, stomach churning. Then he remembered the gun and quickly lowered it out of sight next to the driver’s side door, just as the cop turned to look at him. The officer nodded, but John, still rigid with fear, turned and stared straight ahead. Could the cop see the blanket covering the girl? And what would happen if there was even the slightest movement under it? When the light finally turned green, he didn’t breathe, or move the Topaz, until the cop sent the patrol car forward.
Fifteen minutes later John drove slowly up a residential street in his mother’s subdivision and turned carefully into her driveway. Rolling into the backyard he pushed the opener button, and the garage door went up. Cautiously he moved the Topaz in next to his old black Ford, then pushed the button again and watched the door descend.
Chapter 42
That feeling of fate and inevitability was with him again as he drove this rural road past isolated homes and abandoned farms. Carefully observing the posted limits, he almost felt the Ford was driving itself, or maybe he and the car had been picked up and carried by forces that have worked out all the details well in advance.
This thought plus a glance at his watch moved him to snap on the radio in time for local news on the hour. Nothing about a kidnapping or a missing girl. But then it was hardly an hour since he had picked up Megan. Nearing the gate
to the cheese factory property, he slowed the Ford and watched carefully for the turnoff. When it came, he moved off the road, stopped in front of the gate and got out to unlock and open it. He had all his keys, each memorized now, on a ring and retractable wire device on his belt.
With the gate open he drove through, then stopped to close and lock it behind before moving up the overgrown dirt road, weeds and bushes brushing both sides of the car. He parked close to the building in a spot where he knew the Ford could not be seen from the highway. At the office door, its window boarded now, he unlocked and opened it, then moved back to the car, unlocked and lifted the trunk lid.
Megan, blindfolded, hands tied behind her back with clothesline, looked pathetic on the pillow and blanket he had placed in the trunk to make the ride a little more comfortable. Reminding himself to strip sympathy from his feelings, he asked sternly, “You okay?”
Megan pursed her lips but said nothing.
“Well, we’re here.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.” He took her arm and moved her to her knees, saying, “I’ll help you out.” Then with considerable effort he got her out of the trunk. Once inside the factory office, he closed and locked the door with a new padlock and moved Megan to a chair in front of the nearest desk.
“Okay, relax,” he said. “I’ll take this off.”
He removed the blindfold, and Megan, blinking, looked around the office. As she did, he did the same, satisfied that in cleaning it up, boarding its windows and putting heavy new padlocks on all the doors, he had also stripped the room of all identifying signs.
“Now if you don’t cause trouble, I’ll untie your hands in a few minutes.”
To his surprise and dismay the girl began to cry. Between sobs and sounding deeply frightened, she said, “What are you gonna do to me?”
“Don’t cry.” His words were quick and harsh. “I’m not going to do anything to you. You’ll be perfectly safe here. No one’s going to touch you.”
She continued weeping. “Yes, you are. I can tell.”
“No, I’m not going to touch you.” He spoke with heat and resentment. “I’m not some pervert who likes to feel up little girls. I’m just going to keep you here, safe and sound, until I’ve accomplished what I need to do.”
Through her tears Megan screamed at him: “Then what do you need to do?”
“Keep your voice down!” he said sharply. “There’s nobody who can hear you, but it’ll be much more pleasant if we don’t scream at each other. Right now we need to get a little message to your father. Let him know you’re okay, and tell him how to get you back safe and sound.”
Pulling open a desk drawer, he removed a small Panasonic tape recorder and placed it in front of her on the desk. Then, also from the drawer, he took a three-by-five card with a few lines typed on it and placed that too in front of her.
“What do you want, a ransom?” Her sobs were stopping.
“Kind of. Now read those lines over, and when I turn the recorder on, I want you to say them out loud, right into the microphone here on the recorder. Understand?”
Sullen now, the girl looked at the card. “Yeah.”
“Good. This is the best way to help yourself and your family. Ready?”
“Wait! Just a second.” She read the lines over, mouthing the words to herself. “Okay.”
He pushed the record button on the Panasonic and nodded to her.
“Daddy, this is Megan.” Her voice was a self-conscious deadpan. “I’m all right. He’s treating me well. But please do what he says to get me back, because he is desperate. I love you and Mom. Bye.”
He stopped the recorder. “Good. That was real good. Now com’on over here, and I’ll show you where you’ll stay when I have to go out.”
Holding her by the arm again, he led her from the desk to the bathroom door. With a Swiss Army knife from his pocket he cut the clothesline on her wrists. In the process he notices a gold ring with a small sapphire on the ring finger of her right hand.
“What’s this?” he asked, holding up her hand.
“A ring, Brain Man.”
“I mean who gave it to you?”
She hesitated but said finally, “My father.”
Taking her small, thin hand firmly in his, he slipped the ring off her finger without much trouble. “Very pretty. Let’s send it to him along with the message so he knows it’s really you.”
Opening the bathroom door he moved her into the small room. In it he had placed a cot and a number of other items, including books, magazines, candy and potato chips. From the doorway he said, “There’s stuff in here to entertain yourself and to snack on if you’re hungry. I’ll be back in time to give you some dinner. But right now I’ve got some errands to do.”
With the girl standing inside staring at him, he closed the bathroom door and slipped another new padlock into place.
“Please don’t leave me in here.” She suddenly sounded like she was six.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. And as I said, don’t bother screaming. There’s nobody within two miles of this place.”
Moving quickly now, he crossed the room, grabbed the Panasonic and left the office. In the bathroom Megan waited until it was quiet, then tried the doorknob. Then she slammed herself against the door. It did not budge, and she sat on the cot in tears.
Chapter 43
In the reception area of a spacious, well-appointed office suite of contemporary design, the phone murmured musically. Under a large Ficus that reached to the ceiling, a petite, gum-chewing brunette pushed a button on the phone. “Monelli Enterprises.”
She paused, chewing sedately. “Who’s calling, please?”
Pausing again, she stopped chewing. “Just one moment, please.”
Sitting behind a handsome black desk with stainless steel fixtures, in a large, posh office done in tones of gray, the man they called The Bank held the receiver to his ear. “This is Steven Monelli.”
Still in his suit, his tie loosened, his skin oily and his hair wind-blown, John stood in a phone booth, the third he’d tried before finding a phone that worked. He used the disguised voice he had so often rehearsed lately, a drawl that could pass, he hoped, for either black or southern white. “Mr. Monelli, I’ve kidnapped Megan. If you ever want to see her again, do exactly as you’re told.”
Glanced at the office door, he asked, “Who the fuck is this?”
In the phone booth John made a face and responded in his drawl. “This is the guy who just kidnapped your daughter, asshole. I prefer not to tell you my name. Now just listen.”
He waited, nodded and continued: “Okay. So listen carefully. This is what you need to do. Go to the main bus terminal downtown. And in the men’s room, in the stall furthest from the door, you’ll find an audio cassette hidden behind the toilet. Play it, do exactly as you’re told, and I’ll be back in touch. Is that clear?”
After a pause: “Good. By the way, don’t call the police, and come alone. You certainly won’t want anyone to know what’s on that cassette. Bye, asshole.”
At his desk Monelli spoke sharply again into the phone. “Wait a goddamn minute!” He listened for a second or two, then put the receiver down feeling stunned and stared into space.
Seconds later he grabbed the phone again and punched in a number.
Chapter 44
Deeply vexed, Catherine entered the master bedroom just as the phone on the nightstand began to ring. She moved quickly to pick it up. “Hello?”
On the other end her husband sounded angry. She said, “Steven, I was just going to call you. I can’t find Megan.”
She sat heavily on the bed.
“I mean I can’t find her! We were at the club, and she was with her friends as usual at the pool. I was on the boat sunning and talking with Mary and Florence, and when it was time to leave, I couldn’t find her. She was just nowhere. I talked with two of her friends, and they didn’t see her leave. I talked with the gate guard, he had just come on duty a
nd the other guy had already gone home.”
Catherine paused, nodding.
“Yes, I called him at home. There was no answer. I thought maybe she got a ride home, but there’s no sign of her here. Steven, I’m frantic.”
Monelli was up and pacing now in front of his big desk. “All right, just calm down. I want you to stay there in case she calls or comes home.”
He stopped pacing, closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, don’t call the police, whatever you do. I’ll be there shortly, and we’ll decide then what to do. The main thing is just stay calm.”
Slamming down the phone, he pushed a button on his intercom. “Cindy, take the rest of the day off. And have Robert bring the car around. I’ll drive it myself. “
Moving around the desk, he opened a drawer, picked up a chrome automatic and made sure it was loaded. Going under his suit coat he stuck it in the waistband of his slacks.
Chapter 45
Robert had the Cadillac waiting at the side entrance of this cinnamon-colored, glass-walled office building in suburban Sterling Heights. Monelli walked briskly out of the building and past Robert without a glance. “Be in my office in an hour.”
On I-94 moving at 70 toward downtown, Monelli picked up the car phone and pressed in a number. “Albert, I need to see you and Marco in my office in one hour.” He weaved past a woman doing only the limit in the left lane. “I don’t know yet. But I want you to call every one of our people and have them ready to go.”
Congress, the street in front of the bus terminal downtown, was busy, no curbside parking space available. He drew up near the main entrance, double-parked and hurried inside.
Sitting in the midst of a number of travelers, John peered over the top of a Free Press in time to watch Monelli walk quickly into the station, stop to look around, then head for the Rest Rooms sign. Without a glance in another direction, he quickly pushed through the door marked “Men.”
Admission of Guilt (The detroit im dyin Trilogy, Book 2) (The Detroit Im Dying Trilogy) Page 12
