Medic Two raised a hand, stopping Ethan from making an aggressive, damaging mistake. “Easy, easy,” he said, then used that same hand to draw his jacket aside, revealing the concealed handgun.
Gulping, Ethan considered the weapon. He heard a little girl screaming in the background, the happy but annoyed sound of being teased at the glass, the kind of lethal height you couldn’t survive if you happened to fall. A father’s deep laughter followed.
“You know what I’m capable of,” Medic Two said, his voice too quiet for anyone to hear.
Stepping back, Ethan allowed the other man to have his space. He swallowed the impatience that had gurgled to the surface. “That’s a lot of money.”
“A fraction of the insurance payout from Raleigh’s policy,” Medic Two answered, and then his smirk blossomed into an entitled grin. “If you want to know what happened to her, you’ll wire the money.”
Ethan watched as Medic Two backed away. One step, two steps, three and so on.
“I’ll be in touch, Ethan.” He gave a quiet wave before turning his back on Ethan and walking away, just another tourist leaving the most impressive observation deck in the Midwest.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Staring down at the paper that Medic Two had given him, Ethan realized that if Raleigh hadn’t been declared dead in absentia, he might never be able to pay the quarter million in the first place. Sure, there was the money from Mary, his mother-in-law, but that was Raleigh’s inheritance. He had no intention on upsetting his wife once she was back. He wouldn’t be spending money that, legally, was not his to touch.
“Well, well, Ethan,” a woman said, her high heels clacking on the polished concrete floor as she approached from the other end of the bank. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Stuffing Medic Two’s notepaper into his pocket, Ethan snapped back to reality. He was standing at the teller wickets of his bank branch. When he turned around, his eyes settled on Brenda Avery, the woman who had taken over for his previous banker. She was a pretty woman, always had been. But now, he noticed, she wore a diamond ring on her wedding finger; she seemed to glow even brighter. He offered a smile, but knew its intensity fell short of hers.
She doesn’t have a missing spouse, that’s why she’s able to smile like that.
“How’ve you been, Ethan?” Brenda guided him into the back area of the Second City bank branch.
“I’ve been renovating,” he said, revealing the scratches and cuts on the backs of his hands. “The work has been a good distraction for my mind.”
Brenda stopped at an office, the one in the corner with an open door. She motioned him inside. “What kind of renovations? My fiancé and I just finished remodeling his entire house.” She groaned. “But I’m so glad we’re finally done. You’ll be happy too, Ethan, once you’re done.”
Yes, because once I’m done, Raleigh will be home.
They sat in their respective chairs, Brenda with her hands linked together and Ethan with his palms underneath his thighs.
“So, what brings you to the branch today?” she asked.
“So, a couple of weeks ago, I deposited a check from an insurance company.” He was careful to keep the words from spilling out too quickly.
Brenda shifted in her seat and gave a nod. It seemed to Ethan that she knew exactly what the insurance check had been about.
“I need to wire two hundred and fifty thousand of it.” He gulped back the dread at losing that much money. “Can I do that online?”
Shaking her head, Brenda explained that she needed to complete the transaction herself. “In branches where we have tellers, they could do it.” She shrugged. “But this high-tech, virtual branch just doesn’t make it that simple.”
Withdrawing the folded piece of paper from his pocket, Ethan handed it over and watched Brenda’s eyes skirt across the words.
“Barbados, huh?” she asked before turning to her computer and tapping away.
“Yes. It’s a loan.” He cleared his throat, aware that a sign of guilt included talking too much. “She’s not dead, Brenda.”
Brenda stopped typing and simply stared at her computer screen.
“Raleigh’s not dead.” He knew it and wanted his banker to know it too, to acknowledge it as if that might make it true.
Except Brenda simply stared at the computer screen, her face emotionless.
When it became clear that Brenda wasn’t going to comment, Ethan took a deep breath and cleared his throat again. Back to the lie at hand.
“This is a loan and, when Raleigh comes back, when she’s home, this loan and the rest of the insurance money, it all has to go back to the insurance company.” Another quick throat clearing and he motioned his chin toward Brenda’s computer screen. “It’s nothing I’m spending on myself, not a condo on the ocean or anything.”
“A loan,” Brenda said, sliding her hands back onto the keyboard. “Got it.”
“Yes, just a loan.” And he’ll recover every last dime of it once whatever information Medic Two reveals leads him to Raleigh.
Chapter Thirty-Six
From Thursday to Tuesday, Ethan waited. He carried Raleigh’s old phone with him (his SIM card permanently installed in it) wherever he went, which wasn’t far in case the battery crapped out. And in those moments leading up to Tuesday, he worried that he’d never see any benefit for the quarter million he’d wired off to some numbered company’s account at the Banco Barrington in the Barbados.
But then, late Tuesday morning, a message finally came through jAppe.
Barney’s, downtown Chicago. One hour. Order a non-fat chai latte, extra cinnamon, and a caramel-twist cake pop.
Sparked into action, Ethan changed out of his renovations gear and made the quick trip into downtown Chicago to meet Medic Two. And this time, he drove.
Except when he arrived at Barney’s—the same one where he’d met Phil, a coincidence that wasn’t lost on Ethan—there were so many people there that he had to wait in line. He was early, though, not so worried about being “late” beyond the indicated one hour.
Once he reached the counter, Ethan placed his order, careful to read the instructions off of the jAppe screen slowly and clearly to avoid any technical glitches. “Non-fat chai latte, extra cinnamon, and a caramel-twist cake pop.” Exactly like the text had instructed, and when he looked up to the woman behind the counter, Ethan expected some kind of recognition with further instructions.
Except the barista asked, “Is that everything?”
Ethan nodded.
“Fifteen seventy-eight.”
He paid the inflated price and felt like this trip to Barney’s was more of a rip off than last Thursday’s trip to the John Hancock. Once he had his drink and the bite-sized treat, Ethan retreated to the back, occupying the same table as the last time he’d come. Placing his cake pop on the table where Medic Two could see it, he sat back and observed the people around him.
He noticed that, instead of a trio of kids talking about the best way to commit a crime, his neighbors were a couple of uniformed Chicago Police Department officers. They were talking about the previous night’s Blackhawks game.
With the police seated next to him, what was the likelihood that Medic Two would show up and engage in a chat about how Ethan could find his missing wife’s remains?
If there had been more seats available, Ethan would’ve made the switch to another table, but it wasn’t until after twelve-thirty, fifteen minutes past Medic Two’s deadline, that another table opened up and Ethan was able to claim it. He didn’t even care that the departing men in business suits had left half of their meals on the table, the crumbs and other evidence absolutely disgusting.
The cops were still there, though, pushing their union-backed lunch break to its limits.
Ethan was just about ready to eat the cake pop when one of the Barney’s baristas approached him, her quilted skirt swaying like a palm tree, the lower tips brushing across the tops of her orange knee socks. The young wom
an held an envelope in her hands, and Ethan knew it was for him.
“You ordered the chai tea latte and cake pop, right?” She was young, unimpressed with being Medic Two’s messenger.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“This is for you.” She handed him the envelope and was walking away before Ethan could thank her.
As he tore his finger across the top flap, Ethan noticed that the police officers were finishing up, gathering their plates to leave and continue with their day. Ethan couldn’t help but wonder if Medic Two had been spooked by their presence and had left this envelope as a result.
But when he reached the folded, lined paper inside, Ethan understood that Medic Two had planned things this way, his own version of the Amazing Race except the prize was far more than a million dollars. No, Medic Two had never planned on a coffee-shop chat about where he could find Raleigh or her remains, had he?
I’m sitting on the steps of the Art Institute. Come join me, will you? PS – if you’ve consumed the chai latte, please bring another… that piece was for me, but feel free to eat the cake pop.
Aware that his face had turned red, Ethan formed a fierce fist around the paper, crumpling the note in his palm. He wanted to hurt Medic Two now. This trip to Barney’s had been a wild-goose chase, a complete waste of time!
Standing up, he grabbed the cake pop and chewed it off the stick in a single bite before slipping outside with the chai latte in his hands. After all of that wasted time in the coffee shop, the liquid had lost its heat, which meant there was no point keeping it and throwing it onto Medic Two’s face as a way to burn him. So, at the first trash bin he saw, Ethan dumped the remaining latte but kept the empty cup. Even though he couldn’t scald Medic Two to disarm him, he planned on using the empty cup as a diversion.
Except, half a block away, someone stepped into stride next to him.
“Why are you carrying an empty Barney’s cup, Ethan?” It was Medic Two.
“Where’s my wife, asshole?” Ethan kept walking east toward the Art Institute of Chicago. His jaw hurt from being clenched shut.
“Change of plans,” Medic Two said, the smirk from the John Hancock resurfacing. “We’re going somewhere else.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
When Medic Two veered right onto State Street, Ethan followed. That end of town, especially once they passed the Bank of America at the corner of Adams, started to get a little sketchier than Ethan was comfortable with. Not quite as sketchy as Python and Golden Eagle’s Morgan Park neighborhood, but scary enough that Ethan caught himself wondering what Medic Two had up his sleeve. After all, this man had participated in some sort of elaborate plan to make his wife disappear seven and a half years ago.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Ethan said.
Medic Two glanced over, seemed to consider him briefly before turning his attention back to the street before them. At Van Buren, they crossed and then continued underneath the L tracks. As they approached the stairs leading up to the platform, Ethan worried that Medic Two had somehow become more creative with his abduction methodologies, but then the other man stopped and grabbed the door for the Chicago Public Library.
“In you go,” Medic Two said. He gave a sideways nod to the open door, but his eyes were wild, half-daring Ethan to disobey the request.
More confused than ever, Ethan entered.
“We’re going up to the fourth floor,” Medic Two said, motioning toward the security checkpoint where a man holding a wand and wearing a bulletproof vest stood and waited at a standing metal detector. The book business clearly posed security threats beyond Ethan’s understanding. “You go first, Ethan.”
Gritting his teeth, Ethan tossed the empty Barney’s cup into the trash next to a “No Beverages” sign and then stepped through the metal detector to the other side. The machine beeped.
“Empty your pockets, sir, and please step through again,” the security guard said.
Ethan did what he was told, aware of Medic Two’s watchful stare.
This time, on the other side, the security guard waved his wand over Ethan’s body, and then said he was “good.” The reality, Ethan thought, was that he wasn’t good; he was enraged.
While Ethan assembled his personal items, Medic Two went through the same exercise. But for Ethan, this exercise told him something important: Medic Two wasn’t carrying a gun this time, not like when they’d chatted on the 94th floor of the John Hancock.
He’s unarmed.
Trying not to let his satisfaction show, Ethan kept his head low and followed Medic Two. They rode the escalators up to the fourth floor, where Medic Two claimed an empty study room.
“Have a seat, Ethan.” He moved to the windows that overlooked the bookshelves, several rows of filing cabinets, a few computers at a cluster of workstations in the middle. “Thanks for the money, by the way. I was a little surprised you sent it.”
“Where’s Raleigh?”
“North Carolina?” He shrugged.
“My wife is in North Carolina?” Deep breath, inhaling the hope and exhaling the negative anger. He flexed his jaw muscles to loosen the white pain shooting across the front of his face.
“Oh, man, that’s her name.” Medic Two motioned to one of the five seats at the table and, once Ethan settled on one side of the table, Medic Two took a seat that placed the full length of the table between them.
Smart move.
“So, no,” Medic Two said, “she’s not in North Carolina. I don’t remember if I told you, but she’s, well, she’s dead.” His gray eyes lacked color for a reason; they were emotionless windows into Medic Two’s heartless soul.
But Ethan refused to let his own emotions kill his resolve. This man was going to suffer for what happened that night. Allowing a tight nod, Ethan wet his lips and said, “You mentioned that part. Now, if she’s really dead—”
“She is.”
“Then I want to know where to find her remains.” He felt like he might get sick, his chest cavity now void of life.
The other man scratched at the side of his face, his empty eyes still locked on Ethan’s for a heavy second or two before he blinked and shook his head. He seemed regretful.
“Her remains,” Medic Two said, taking his attention away from Ethan for the first time to glance down at his own hands, the fingertips of one hand aligning to those of the other, as he seemed to deliberate his response.
“Yes, her remains,” Ethan said through gritted teeth. Just thinking of Raleigh being gone tore him up inside, ripped his heart to shreds, even though part of him knew, without a doubt, that she was still alive. Somewhere, by some miracle, he would see her again, that little voice promised. She would smile at him once he found and rescued her from whatever nightmare had become her reality these past seven and a half years. But he said the words anyway, quieted the certainty that told him this maniac was full of lies, and played along. “Yes, her remains.”
After a heavy sigh, the younger man looked up. His face had taken on the saddest look imaginable. No more smirking. No more joy or satisfaction on his rosy cheeks. “There are no remains, I’m afraid.” The young man let out another sigh. “But let’s start from the beginning, okay?”
Ethan nodded, possibly a little too vigorously at first. He blamed the nerves—if there’s no body, then it really isn’t possible that she’s dead.
“Just relax, man.” Medic Two hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “If I feel threatened in any way, I’m bolting out of this room and you’ll never see me again—”
“The beginning,” Ethan said, clenching his eyes shut to calm his nerves and stay as patient as he possibly could. “What happened?”
“We got the ambulance—”
“Who’s ‘we,’” Ethan asked, watching for a reaction, a sign that this guy might be lying to him.
The other man swallowed, his throat pumping. “Well, there was Hyatt, Maltby, and me. Hyatt got the ambulance, and when the call came through, we showed up.”
Repeating
the third Medic’s name in his head, Ethan worked hard to commit it to memory. He hadn’t slept well, he wanted to kill the man seated across from him, and his wife’s return weighed heavily on his mind; he was mentally preoccupied, to say the least.
Who is this man?
“And then, as you know, she got in. All part of the plan, Spic and Span.”
Ethan hadn’t heard that saying since he was a child.
“Once we had your wife, you were off the hook, Ethan.” He gave a firm nod, as if to say, See, it’s not all bad news after all.
Except Ethan didn’t quite understand. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand how I was ever on the hook, and for what?”
Medic Two shrugged. “Not my area of expertise, but all I know is that we took your wife to the boat.”
A boat? “The Sea Rally?”
“Did I see Raleigh?” Medic Two seemed confused. “I saw her get on the boat, and then I was done. Or that’s what they told me, at first.”
“No, no, what was the name of the boat?” Ethan could feel his patience dripping between his fingers, slipping out of his control. Was Lisa lying to me? I thought she said they didn’t have the boat back then? But if she was telling the truth, and Raleigh wasn’t on Sea Rally, then whose boat was it?
Another shrug. “I don’t know the boat’s name, but when Raleigh had second thoughts and tried to get off the boat, they called me on. Reinforcements.”
She tried to run; she really was kidnapped, wasn’t she?
“I jumped on board and kept her on board. And then we rode off into the sunrise, all the way to Michigan. Your wife, she was a fighter, I’ll tell you.”
She fought. Whatever had happened, she fought it.
“Michigan.” Ethan had so many details he wanted to remember—Maltby, the boat, being off the hook, Michigan. “Where did you take her?”
“Right. So when we got to the marina—and I don’t know where it was, but it was definitely in Michigan, I could tell from the flags and a bunch of other cues at the marina store—they told me to stay on the boat. Stay with Hyatt, just the two of us, and off they went for a couple of days. Maltby and Raleigh. When they came back—”
The Last Night (The Last Series Book 2) Page 16
