But whoever had planted that Android there was no friend of mine. That much was clear. They must have dropped it in my bag while I was outside losing it at the sight of George’s murder.
I tapped the message bar with a shaking finger. It opened the phone right up without any unlock code and took me straight into the app.
The app. The one I’d been seeing everywhere I looked, ever since this case began.
And there, in the familiar three-color interface, I saw my five waiting messages, all of them sent within the last minute.
Hello, Angela.
Don’t say a word.
Don’t even look around.
One wrong move and Eve dies.
Hit me back when you’re ready for more instructions.
CHAPTER 65
IN MY HAND, I now had a phone with the capability to listen, watch, and track my every move down to the square meter. I knew as well as anyone what that app could do.
So I kept my eyes down, heart thundering, and texted back right away.
What have you done with Eve? I asked.
The reply was almost immediate.
If you want to find out, start walking up West Broadway.
I eyed the cop in the front seat, but he’d gone back to leaving me alone. My thumbs flew over the keyboard, sending another question.
Why would I do that?
At first, nothing happened. Then I got back a photo instead of a text. It was nearly identical to the one they’d sent just after Reese Sapporo’s abduction. It showed Eve in a blurry close-up, eyes wide, with silver tape over her mouth. And there, at the edge of the frame, was the unmistakable black barrel of a gun, pointed at her head.
I slapped a hand across my own mouth to keep from blurting anything out. It was almost as if I was looking at someone other than Eve. She barely looked like herself, and I had no context for seeing my friend and mentor, this woman who had been more of a rock to me than anyone I’d ever known, trapped in this horrifying state.
Outside the cruiser, police and agents were buckling down the scene. Yellow tape had already gone up in front of Eve’s house and around George’s car. The crowd had swelled, and a few officers were starting to corral everyone up the block.
How am I supposed to walk away from this? I texted.
You’re the genius, Angela. You figure it out, he wrote back. And then, You have one minute.
With that, a digital timer popped up on the Android’s screen, counting down from sixty seconds.
Maybe it was a bluff, but I couldn’t assume that. These people had shown themselves more than willing to kill for no reason. There was no time to come up with a work-around, either. I was already down to forty-five seconds.
And whatever they wanted from me, I was the one who had set it all in motion. There was no way I could let Eve pay for my mistakes. That realization cut through everything else, including my panic.
“Hey,” I said to the cop in front. “I forgot to tell Agent Keats something.”
“I don’t have him on my radio,” he told me.
“No, I didn’t think so,” I answered, and looked down at the phone again. There were thirty seconds left. Half a minute to get out of that car. My hand was already on the door handle and I took out my credentials for show.
“I’m just going to run in and find him. I’ll be right back,” I said.
“I can get one of my guys to—”
“Don’t bother, I’ve got it,” I told him.
Before the officer could say anything else, I slid out of the car and shut the door behind me with about fifteen seconds to spare. I knew I might have been making the worst mistake of my life, but given the alternative, I can only say that I’d do it again if I had to.
No question.
CHAPTER 66
I FORCED MYSELF to walk away from the cruiser at a casual pace. I couldn’t afford to draw any attention to myself, and I was terrified someone might pull me back.
I saw Obaje standing outside Eve’s front door, but he was talking to someone. Billy was nowhere in sight. Everyone was too busy to notice as I slipped up the block and away from the scene.
As soon as I turned off of Eve’s street and onto West Broadway, I started running. I didn’t know where I was going, but my body needed to move. My mind was a seething mess of confusion and I was terrified about whatever came next. But at least my feet knew what to do.
Once I’d gotten around that first corner, the phone pinged three times in my hand. I looked down to read the incoming messages without slowing my pace.
Carlito’s Coffee. Five blocks on your left.
Order something and wait at the counter.
You have two minutes.
The on-screen timer had already reset and started counting down again. It felt like this was some kind of game for them. Like they were toying with me, and I had no choice but to play along.
I knew exactly where Carlito’s was and broke into a sprint the rest of the way. I focused on speed, focused on my feet, focused on getting there—and tried not to think about what might happen if I didn’t.
When I reached the coffee shop, I stumbled as much as walked inside. It was after midnight by now. Most of the tables were empty and there was nobody waiting at the counter. I ordered a latte, gave my name, and shoved some money at the aproned dude staring back at me.
Then I looked down to check the Android. Nothing new had come in.
What now? I wrote, and hit Send.
At nearly the same moment, a chime of some kind sounded from across the room. My eyes snapped up to see a guy in a red and black Northeastern hoodie, just picking up his phone.
I held my breath. I watched as he read whatever was in front of him and set the phone back down without ever looking my way.
So I sent another message.
Hello? Are you there?
And again, the guy’s phone dinged.
Maybe it was a coincidence. Phones are constantly going off in a place like Carlito’s. But tell that to the adrenaline pumping like white water through my system just then.
Before I could think about it—or think at all—I was plowing my way across the floor. A few empty chairs tipped over in my wake, and the guy looked up just in time to see me bearing down on him fast.
He jumped up with his phone and backed away.
“What were you just doing?” I demanded.
“What the bloody hell?” he asked in a clear English accent.
“Show me your phone!” I screamed, half out of my mind. I lunged for it and he stepped back again. Someone grabbed my arm from behind.
“Whoa, whoa! What’s going on here?” one of the staff asked.
“This nutter’s trying to take my phone,” the Brit said.
“Where is she?” I yelled at him. “What have you done with her?”
“Calm down, miss!” he shouted back, just as I heard a new message dinging into my own phone. Then another, and another.
If anything was going to re-rack my focus, it was that. I tore my arm free from the barista and looked down to see what I had.
One block north. Right on C Street.
Wait at the corner of C and Cypher.
You have two minutes.
The digital timer was back and had started its countdown all over again.
When I looked up, the Brit was staring at me like I was some kind of lunatic. And in fact, it was just hitting me that I may have made a horrible mistake. Maybe even a fatal one, where Eve was concerned.
But that didn’t mean I was wrong about this guy. He could have been just one part of a larger team. Some kind of diversion, or test.
As I stared back, I could swear I saw him fighting off a smile. His eyes crinkled, like he was taunting me, silently daring me to make the wrong move.
When I checked the timer on my phone, twenty seconds had already evaporated. That left a minute forty to cover the next leg. I had to leave now if I was going to go at all.
I gave the Brit one last look, committi
ng his face to memory—strong nose, sandy-brown buzz cut, cleft chin—and turned to head for the door. The last thing I heard before I hit the sidewalk was “Latte, single shot, for Angela?”
But I was already gone.
CHAPTER 67
IT WAS GETTING surreal. I felt like I was slogging through mud and fog as I covered the next several blocks, texting back and forth on the fly with the architect of my own nightmare.
Where are you taking me? I asked.
Just keep going, he said.
Are you going to release Eve if I do?
Yes.
How do I know that?
You’ll have to take my word for it. Or not.
And then what? Kill me?
Of course not.
Then what? Talk to me!
The replies had been coming in as fast as the questions I sent, but now they stopped. When I reached the designated corner, I stared at the screen, waiting for something to happen.
Hello? I texted.
I looked up and down both streets. There was nothing out of the ordinary to see, and nobody to catch my attention. The intersection was deserted.
I tried again. Where did you go?
My breath caught in my throat as I started to imagine the worst. Was it over? Had I pushed too hard? Was Eve gone?
Then, as suddenly as it had stopped, it started again. A flurry of pings sounded and a series of messages scrolled in fast.
Change of plans.
Pocket the phone.
Keep it on you at ALL TIMES.
One word about this to anyone and Eve dies.
If we lose track of you, Eve dies.
Do not test us.
Do not forget these instructions.
We’ll be in touch.
I blinked several times, frozen in my spot. What in God’s name was that supposed to mean? They’d be in touch? When?
What do you mean? I wrote back, just before I heard my name.
“Angela!”
I turned 180 and saw Keats. He’d just jumped out of a cruiser, parked diagonally in the intersection behind me, lights flashing. I hadn’t even heard the car coming. Now Billy was sprinting toward me with one hand on the gun at his hip.
I didn’t know what to do. My options were extremely limited, in any case, and I slipped the phone into my pocket as surreptitiously as I could. This was insane, but I couldn’t stop now. I had to protect Eve. And to do that, I had to keep the phone a secret, at least for the time being.
“I’m okay, I’m okay!” I said, just as Billy got to me.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he shouted. “Have you lost your mind?”
It was a struggle to synthesize everything into one response. Anything I said to Billy might be overheard through that Android. And any mention I made of the phone itself would almost certainly get Eve killed.
“I thought I saw them taking her!” I said. The lie burst out of me in a panic. “I didn’t know what to do … and I just … ran after the car. I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that. I was wrong. It wasn’t even them!”
“Okay, okay,” Keats said, his voice easing. He put an arm around my shoulder and shepherded me toward the cruiser as it pulled up the block. “It’s done now. But Jesus, Angela, you scared the crap out of me.”
I could barely look him in the eye. I felt terrible for lying, but the alternative was worse. The bulge in my pocket felt conspicuous as hell, even if nobody else seemed to notice. What I needed was a few minutes alone to think this through and not make any rash decisions. For once.
In the meantime, all I could do was stick to the story, take it one thing at a time, and pray that this sick little game hadn’t just come to an abrupt end.
CHAPTER 68
WHEN WE GOT back to the street outside Eve’s house, an unmarked black van was waiting to take me wherever I was headed next. I assumed that meant some kind of safe house. What little I knew about these kinds of things told me I’d be unreachable for the foreseeable future. But that was just a guess.
“Can I at least call my parents?” I asked Billy. “I can’t just disappear on them.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Billy said. “Of course. But just one call, and it’s going to have to be quick.”
It felt like I was getting arrested as much as going into protective custody.
“Hello?” Mom answered. It was nearly 1:00 a.m. I could hear the confusion mixed with concern in her voice.
“It’s me, Mom,” I said. “I’m on Agent Keats’s phone.”
“What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” she asked.
I took a deep breath and my chest shuddered. Everything that had just happened was too much to think about at once.
“We’ve had a situation at work,” I said, trying to sound as level as possible. “All I can really tell you is that I’m okay. They’re taking me somewhere safe.”
“What?” Mom said, her voice rising. I’d given her too much, too fast, I could tell. “Who’s putting you up? For how long? What happened?”
“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I can’t say any more than that, and I don’t have time to talk. But I promise you I’m safe. That’s all you need to know for now. I’ll be in touch just as soon as I can, I swear.”
“At least tell me where they’re taking you,” Mom demanded.
“I don’t know,” I said. “And it’s actually better if you don’t know, either.”
Keats was motioning at me to wrap it up. I could tell he hated having to hurry me, but this transfer wasn’t a whenever kind of thing. We had to go. And meanwhile, I’d just stoked every fear Mom had ever had about me and this job.
“Angela …” She was crying now and running out of words, which was unusual for anyone in my family.
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “Please tell Dad and the girls that I love them, too.”
There was no easy good-bye. No good way to finish that call. So I told her I was going to hang up, and then handed the phone to Keats to do it for me. I just couldn’t. Not with my own mother still crying on the other end.
Billy seemed to understand. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “The work is goddamn heartless sometimes. But I promise you, this is for the best.”
“I know,” I said, and I did, but it was still overwhelming. I felt horrible for what I was putting my family through, on top of everything else.
Billy opened the van’s sliding door for me so I could get in the back. I assumed the woman in the driver’s seat was my assigned agent, Lisa Konrad Palumbo, but there were no introductions. I wasn’t even sure what to call her.
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Billy said. “Try to get some sleep.”
My mind was flying. All I had was more questions. What about Justin Nicholson? Who was going to look in on him at the hospital? And George’s family—what about them? Would they be taken care of?
Most of all, though, I was thinking about Eve. What was the investigative plan there? How much in the loop would Billy be able to keep me? And what came next?
I couldn’t afford to ask any of it. The more I said, the more information I’d be passing to whoever might be listening through that Android in my pocket. Chances were I’d have to come clean, maybe sooner than later, since there was no real hiding from them anymore. But until I could think through this more clearly, my default remained the same: Keep Eve alive.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Keats told me. When I didn’t answer, he gave me a tight smile. Then he slid the panel door closed and banged on it twice from the outside. Agent Konrad Palumbo hit the gas, the van lurched, and we took off into the night, heading for “somewhere safe.”
Whatever that meant anymore.
CHAPTER 69
WHEN I THINK safe house, I think about remote cabins in the woods and unassuming little places tucked deep in the suburbs. But that’s probably because I’ve seen too many movies and bad TV shows.
In fact, Agent Konrad Palumbo took me to the last place I expected.
&
nbsp; As we pulled into the sally port behind the federal building where I worked, I thought maybe we were stopping to change vehicles.
But no.
“Here we are,” Konrad Palumbo told me.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, even though she obviously wasn’t.
In fact, this was good news. I still hadn’t worked out what to do about the de facto tracking device in my pocket and whoever was now following my every move. But if there was one place they couldn’t physically get to me, it was going to be here.
Once the inner garage door had closed behind us, we got out of the van and onto a freight elevator. Konrad Palumbo took us up to the sixth floor, one story above my own office and the CART.
“So, Agent Konrad Palumbo,” I said on the way up. “Is there—”
“Call me Lisa,” she said with a reassuring smile. I didn’t think she knew about my specific circumstances, but I appreciated that she was trying to make this as easy for me as possible.
“Lisa,” I said. “Can you tell me anything about what’s about to happen here?”
“I’ll do better than that,” she said. “I’ll show you.”
The elevator doors had just slid open and she gestured for me to go ahead of her.
It was coming up on 2:00 a.m. by now, but the checkpoint just off the elevator was staffed with two uniformed guards. It was exactly like the station I passed going to work every day on the fifth floor, usually with a flash of my ID. This time, though, we had to empty our pockets, walk through the metal detector, and get a hand scan and a pat-down from one of the guards.
Immediately, my pulse ticked up. I knew I didn’t have a choice about the phone. I’d have to take it out of my pocket, but I also couldn’t afford to tip my hand here. Was this the end of the charade, before it had barely begun?
I waited for Agent Konrad Palumbo—Lisa—to go through first. When she wasn’t looking, I dropped the phone into an empty gray tub and covered it with my keys, ID, and jacket, then set it all on the moving belt, along with my bag.
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