“Yeah?”
“I had nine people volunteer at least part of the one million. Twenty-five thousand here, fifty thousand there. But as we talked through it, the logistics of withdrawing the money from their respective institutions and then pulling it together seemed like it would take days, not hours. That was when my new buddy, Timothy, stepped up and said he wanted to pay the entire amount.”
“Holy shit,” I said.
“I know, right? The whole room went quiet. I think everyone was wondering if he was joking, or drunk. But he was completely serious. Said he’d never be able to sleep if he didn’t do everything he could to help that boy get home safely.”
“Wow. There is kindness in this country after all.” The moment actually had taken my breath away. Timothy had then spoken briefly to me and William and asked that we meet him at this sandwich shop. When I’d suggested meeting at Zahera’s condo, he’d balked. He had his reasons for wanting to be out in the public, but would get into it later when we had more time.
We didn’t push back. Not with an offer that could save Drew’s life.
I took a sip of my lemonade and thumbed through a series of text messages from Cristina following her meeting with Leo, the Latin Zac Efron. I could practically hear the excitement in her voice through her brief notes. First, Leo was even more charming and good looking in person. Her exact text was: For a moment I thought I saw him standing under a waterfall, as water dripped from his body. #rippedabs
Oh brother.
Thankfully, she moved past her fixation on Leo’s abs. Apparently, he was very concerned about his sister, Nikki, to the point of tears welling up in his eyes. On his last trip in from the West Coast about a month earlier, he’d found a baggie of joints stashed in a kitchen drawer. When he confronted her about it, she said it belonged to one of her former friends. She’d also changed her appearance over the last several weeks, going from preppy in pink to dying her hair black and purple. Leo told Cristina that through following her Instagram account, he’d seen loads of pictures of her in skin-tight black jeans and combat boots. She also sported about a dozen new piercings along both eyebrows and lip.
The net of it came down to Cristina enrolling in Nikki’s private school. She’d done some preliminary work on enrollment, but needed me there to sign papers by three o’clock. I told her I’d do my best to make it, but no promises. She understood my priority.
William, just back from the restroom, sat in the chair opposite of me and wiped his face with a wet paper towel. He glanced out the window, then shifted his gaze to his phone resting on the table.
“Are you thinking the kidnapper is going to contact you before our planned swap time?”
“I don’t know what to think. But if he does call, I don’t want to miss it.”
A moment later, Zahera walked into the sandwich shop.
“Do you have the money?” William asked eagerly.
“I just left Timothy at the bank down the street. He had a couple of papers to sign, but he should be along any minute. He asked me to order him a Coke with no ice, room temperature. He was very specific.”
“Works for me,” William said.
Zahera went to the counter, got herself a lemonade and ordered Timothy’s drink, and was back just as the man of the hour shuffled through the door, juggling a cane and a duffel bag. Timothy wore a white Tommy Bahama shirt that hung over his silk trousers. As he got closer, I could see his red face and a line of sweat ringing his neck.
“Sorry I’m running late. Well,” he said, holding up his cane, “I can’t exactly run anywhere these days. But I’m here. And that’s what counts.” His voice sounded raspy, as if he had smoked a pack of cigarettes or had worked an all-nighter. Neither seemed to fit his persona.
Zahera made quick introductions and then held up his drink.
“Oh, you’re quite a dear, Zahera. I suppose I’ll take a seat and rest, and you can count the money if you like.”
William pulled the bag closer and unzipped it.
“Not necessary,” I said, looking at William. “I’m sure it’s all there.” I looked over to Timothy. “Thank you for doing this. Your generosity is going to save a young boy’s life.”
William still had his hands inside the bag. I touched his arm, and he lifted his eyes. “Yes, thank you. I owe you…everything. I’m just not sure how I’ll repay you.”
“Nonsense,” Timothy said, sipping his soda. “Please, please, this is the least I can do. Money doesn’t mean anything once we pass on to… well, who knows where we end up? I’m just glad I can do something that will help.”
He looked away for a second, as if a thought had come to mind.
I suddenly picked up a scent. It was pungent, yet familiar.
William lifted a wad of cash and strummed through it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve never seen money like this before. I just wanted to touch it. I’m not sure why.” His bloodshot eyes seemed much more radiant.
A few patrons walking past our table turned our way, while Timothy had a shocked look on his face.
“William, you need to put the cash away and stop obsessing over it,” I said. “This isn’t your money or my money. It’s nothing more than a ticket to get Drew home.”
He placed the money in the bag and zipped it up. “I’m sorry. I don’t want anything to happen to my Drew.” His eyes became glassy. “I once had a bit of a betting issue when I was younger. I couldn’t control myself. I suppose that kind of stuff never leaves you.”
“William, my good man, none of us are perfect,” Timothy said, quickly dialing back the awkward feeling hanging in the air. “We all have things we wish we could change about our pasts, but you have to own it. Know what I mean? If you don’t own it, then you can’t do anything about it. Look at me, for instance.” He glanced at Zahera and smiled as he sipped more of his soda.
“Timothy has been very open about his past,” she said, eyeing him. “Do you mind?”
“Oh no. Go right ahead. I just gave William my little speech. I have to own it, right?”
Zahera smiled, then draped an arm around the man who seemed a little uncomfortable with the gesture. She removed it, but continued. “Timothy had been living in Mexico for the last…what?”
“Twenty-two years, six months, and fourteen days.” He chuckled. “Twenty-two years for me to realize that I wasn’t living life to its fullest.”
“I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but you called yourself a—”
“A hermit. I rarely came out of my house in Mexico. I thought I could be happy just sitting around, counting my money.” He looked at William and winked. “But something finally hit me a few months ago.” He took a hard swallow, his eyes finding the table.
Was he getting emotional?
Zahera jumped in. “Timothy had a friend pass away, and it reminded him that life was too short to just sit around and watch the clock thrum away without having a purpose.”
A smile split Timothy’s lips, although the rest of his face didn’t move much, if at all. He looked a little…robotic or unhuman. “I wanted to experience so much. To meet and interact with people. To use my money to bring meaning to people’s lives. That’s how I get my fulfillment these days. And it’s been life-changing, I’ll tell you that much.”
Zahera nodded. “You’re one of the good guys, even though I’ve only known you for what, a month or so?”
“Something like that. But enough about me. A child’s life is at stake, and to me, there is nothing more important in this world than protecting our children.” Timothy ran his gaze across the group, ending with me. He gave me a tight-lipped smile.
“Glad you feel that way,” I said. “I have a little company that focuses on helping at-risk kids.”
“I see. Is that how you got involved in helping William here?”
“She’s the best,” William said. “Finding my other grandson, Billy, was a miracle. It’s like Ivy had this vision that no one else ha
d.”
“Had your other grandson gotten lost?”
William looked at me, then back to Timothy. “I guess you don’t know the whole story. My little Billy was kidnapped as well.”
Timothy’s eyes went wide, and then he slowly shook his head. “Dear God, man, how are you holding up?”
“Honestly,” William said, pausing to wipe his scruff, “I’m barely able to keep it together. But I just keep reminding myself that Billy is safe. And thanks to you, we should be able to bring Drew home too.”
My phone rattled across the table. I looked at the screen. “It’s Stan. We need to take this.”
William and I thanked Timothy again, then headed to Black Beauty with a million bucks and all of our hopes in a duffel bag.
19
A woman cradled her crying baby, fanning his face with a cloth diaper as the sun beat down on them at the bus stop at Main and La Prada. The slate of endless blue sky was being cursed by everyone who even thought about going outside on a day like today.
William and I had just parked my car in an outdoor parking lot where I had to pay twenty bucks. The guy running the lot—with tattoos up and down his arms that looked like gang signs—didn’t give me a comfortable feeling that Black Beauty would still be there when we returned.
As long as we were able to bring Drew back with us, I’d happily file an insurance claim and move on.
With my stomach twisting into knots, William and I walked four blocks to our current location. To reduce the stress on William’s body in the heat, I carried the black duffel bag of money, knowing I’d have to give it to him once we approached the Alamo. While on our trek, I read the temperature on a corner bank sign: 106. And that was without adding in the humidity.
Through a rippling atmosphere that made it seem almost like a mirage, I could see the front of the Alamo. A throng of tourists were braving the heat to take in one of San Antonio’s biggest attractions. I applauded their dedication to history, but they were nuts, especially those milling about on the large swath of stone and concrete in front of the fort. I’d read a story where it stated that on average five tourists a day—usually not from this area—suffered heat strokes at the Alamo when the temperature reached above 102.
Today, I wondered if the number would approach double digits.
Standing next to William under the awning outside of a souvenir shop, I casually searched the area in front of the Alamo for a man and a kid. William had shown me Drew’s picture, told me he was about four-six in height.
“I don’t see any little boys with a man. How about you?” I asked William.
“Nope. No sign of Drew. Dammit!”
William was on edge again.
“It’s okay. We’re five minutes early.”
He didn’t respond. He just kept scanning the area with a focus I didn’t know he had in him. Stan and Brook had told us not to go to the meeting place until a minute before five. We couldn’t see them, but I knew Stan would be positioned on the north side of the expansive fort and Brook on the south side. The obvious goal was to trade the money for Drew and get the heck out of Dodge as fast as possible. Once we had Drew with us—or if something went wrong—I was to call Stan on my cell phone as we turned and walked away.
A city bus pulled around the corner, squeaking to a stop, its growling engine drowning out the crying baby. A few people stepped out of the bus, even more got on. It pulled away, leaving a trail of foul exhaust fumes. Most everyone covered their faces. Everyone except William. He was almost in a trance as he continued scanning the area.
I checked my phone, then said, “It’s time to go.”
I handed him the bag of money, and we walked across the street, got to the sidewalk, moving west toward the front of the Alamo.
“What if the kidnapper doesn’t show up? What if he did this just to tease me?” His voice was laced with anxiety.
“It’s okay, William. I think it will work out. Stay positive.”
“I need a drink.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just said, “I could go for a glass of ice water myself.”
We reached the front area as a mom was trying to clean some type of fruity drink off her daughter’s dress. They were fussing at each other, undoubtedly another result of the heat.
“I still don’t see my Drew,” William said.
Another five minutes went by, and I could feel pressure building in my chest as William’s concern became more realistic with each passing second: the kidnapper could indeed be playing with us. Recalling the kidnapper’s sarcastic tone and casual delivery, I could see it. Did he even have Drew? We’d never confirmed it.
“I’m worried,” William said.
“I’m not far behind you, but he could just be running late. Let’s give it another five minutes.”
He looked in my direction, sweat rolling down his face as if he stood under a waterfall. “I’ll wait here for the next five hours if I have to.”
I knew if he stayed in this heat for that long, he’d melt or become another number on the Alamo’s heat-stroke attrition list. But I kept my mouth shut. The stress he was carrying was palpable.
Just as two teenagers walked by, tapping away on their cell phones, I heard a ring. I first looked in their direction.
“It’s mine,” William said, frantically digging through his front pocket. He pulled out a cell phone. “It’s gotta be the kidnapper.” He punched up the line and said, “Yes, this is William. Do you have my Drew?”
I leaned in closer so I could hear.
“I said no cops,” the voice said. The young man sounded much more serious this time.
William’s eyes were full of fear. He lifted his shoulders, obviously unsure what to say. I quickly went to his other ear and whispered a retort. Then he said into the phone: “I only brought one person and she is not a cop. She’s standing here next to me. If anyone else showed up, they must have followed us. I only want my Drew back.” His chin began to quiver as sweat dripped off his face.
I didn’t hear a response from the kidnapper. William looked at me and said to the kidnapper, “Hello, are you still there? Please don’t hurt my Drew. He’s family, and—”
“Shut the fuck up and do what I say. You have thirty seconds to get into a cab. I will call you back. If you’re not in a cab and driving away from the Alamo at that time, I’ll kill Drew. Do you hear me?”
William lurched forward, covering his mouth as if he might hurl.
I turned and quickly searched the street for a cab. Nothing. Fuck!
“Okay. Okay. Just please don’t hurt Drew. I have your money.”
“I just started the clock. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”
And then the line went dead.
20
Yellow flashed across my vision. I flipped my sights to the right and saw a cab motoring through traffic, moving north on Alamo Street. “This way,” I yelled to William. I grabbed the bag, which had to weigh at least forty pounds, threw it over my shoulder, and ran like a wild woman, making a beeline for the cab fifty yards away.
“Out of the way!” The two teenagers from earlier didn’t hear the warning, and I plowed right through them. They cussed me out, but I didn’t give it a second thought. Red brake lights came to life on the back of the cab, which ignited a burst of adrenaline inside my body. I jumped off the curb into the middle of traffic. Horns blared. A blue pickup rocked to a stop just inches before hitting me—my heart skipped at least one beat. I sucked in a breath, smacking the top of the hood. It nearly burned my hand.
“Crap.” Turning to look over my shoulder, I saw William moving behind me at a slower pace. I had to catch the cab. I darted out of my stance and then saw the cab hit the accelerator. “No!” I shouted as I kept running.
Suddenly, the driver jammed on the brakes again, and I reached the back end of the car at the same time another man slipped into the back seat.
“Hurry up, William,” I said, opening the back door, ready to kick out
the other passenger.
“My phone is ringing.” Ten yards away, William was shuffling my way while waving his phone above his head.
“Come on,” I said, urging him on. I looked inside the car where I found a man in a suit with a phone up to his ear. He held up a finger and smiled.
“I don’t have time to explain, but you need to get out. Now,” I commanded.
Still the finger and the smile.
“Sir. Get the fuck out!”
His face turned mean in an instant.
“Lady,” an accented voice said from the front seat, “you can’t just barge in here and toss out my passengers.”
Ignoring the driver, I glared another second at the man in the suit. He got the hint, mumbling four-letter words as he jumped out of the cab and slammed the door shut.
“Lady!”
Again, I ignored the driver. William had just pulled up, wheezing from the activity. He held the ringing phone like it was a torch. I grabbed his wrist, pulled him into the back seat.
“Go!”
The driver flipped around, a look of indignation on his unshaven face.
“We’ve got a bomb in this bag. Now drive!”
He punched the gas, squealing tires.
“Answer it,” I said to William, who did just that.
“I’m here,” he said in rapid fire. He tapped the speaker button.
I heard what sounded liked clapping. Very slow clapping. Then, “Very good, Gramps. I guess you brought the right person with you.”
William and I glanced at each other.
“I love the awkward silence. Didn’t you know I have a crystal ball?” he said with a derisive cackle.
How could he see us? I jerked my head around, eyeballing the people driving cars and mopeds near us.
“I just want my Drew back. Is this a game to you?” William asked, his voice cracking.
“I kind of like game shows, don’t you, Gramps?”
“What kind of twisted—” William stopped before he finished.
“You were saying?” the guy asked in a mocking tone.
“Nothing.”
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 4-6: Redemption Thriller Series 10-12 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 9
