by S. J. Harper
“I’m sorry, Roger,” he says, his own voice cracking.
But Maitlan is inconsolable and angry and looking for someone to unload on. He rushes Zack, fists flying. Zack allows Maitlan to get in one good shot across his jaw before wrapping the man in a tight embrace.
Bradley and I move toward them, but Zack holds up a hand telling us to back off. Maitlan is crumbling once again.
“I’m going to take him upstairs.” Zack says the words softly.
I nod. Torres is standing beside me. “I’m so sorry,” she says.
Maitlan’s face is buried in his hands. He neither looks up nor responds to her words. Zack leads him out of the room, an arm around his shoulders.
As soon as Maitlan and Zack are out of earshot, Torres rounds on me. “We fucked up,” she says. “We should have grabbed Eve. Interrogated the shit out of her. Made her tell us where she stashed Robby.”
The same combination of anger and guilt seethes inside me. If we’d had Eve, I could have gotten the truth out of her. We thought we had more time. We thought we understood her motivations. We were wrong.
“We can get her with this,” I say, pointing to the receiver. “She’s on the record telling them to kill the boy. Not much comfort to Maitlan, but at least he’ll know she’s going to be punished. I know it might feel counter-intuitive. But this isn’t the time to bring her in. The worst has already happened. We have an opportunity here. We need to use Eve to get to her accomplices.”
Torres turns to O’Neill. “Whatever surveillance we have on her now, double it. We need our best on this detail. They need to be ghosts.”
O’Neill nods, start’s dialing.
“So we watch and wait?” asks Bradley. “We wait for her to go meet them?” He’s furiously typing on his keyboard. She owns a car, one of the new BMW SUV’s.” He smiles. “It has Intelligent Emergency Call and Connected Drive Services. We can override it so even if she turns it off we’ll be able to track her.”
“Get whatever we’re going to need in place. Check credit card statements. See if she uses a car or taxi service. We want to be ready to intercept any calls and cover all possibilities. We’ll listen, we’ll watch. And in the morning we’ll follow her.” Torres turns to me, “You’re dead on your feet. So is your partner. We’re going to need you both functioning by dawn. Get a few hours of rest. We can handle this.”
She’s right, I know. Torres and her team are competent, more than competent. I stand up, stretch, and release a breath. “I’ll check on Maitlan and Zack, then try to get some sleep. Wake me if there’s a development?”
“Of course.”
I leave them and begin to climb the long staircase that leads to Maitlan’s living quarters. My body is heavy with fatigue and remorse. My bones ache. I have to lay down, but I fear I won’t get any sleep, We simply can’t fail tomorrow. I didn’t say it to Torres, but in addition to nailing Eve’s ass to the wall and capturing her co-conspirators, getting Robby’s body back is a priority. I’ve seen what happens to parents who are never able to lay their children to rest. It adds another layer of pain to an already unbearable situation. I won’t let Maitlan go thorough that agony, too.
In the distance, I hear the ringing of a phone.
“Wait, Emma!”
I’m already racing back down the stairs and into the conference room. Torres has her headset on. The call is coming in on the ransom line. She nods at me. I pick up the receiver and hold it to my ear.
“Yes?”
“Let me speak to Maitlan.” It’s a male voice, distorted. A recognizable voice.
The same voice that we recorded on earlier ransom calls.
What kind of game is this guy playing? “He’s not here at the moment.”
“Well, get him. If he wants to see his kid alive again, he’d better talk to me. Now.”
My heart is hammering against my ribs. I can’t let on that we overheard Eve order them to kill Robby, or that we heard the sound of a gunshot in response to that order.
Could it be that was for Eve’s benefit? Are they working on their own now?
My eyes lock with Torres’. “He’ll want to speak with the boy,” I say. “After what happened this afternoon, we’re going to need proof of life.”
“What happened this afternoon wasn’t our fault. We were prepared to make the exchange. Maitlan can speak to Robby. Now, you have two minutes to get him on the line.”
O’Neill has already fled the room, calling out for Maitlan and Zack. I silently count down the seconds. Will Maitlan refuse to come down? Will he think it’s a cruel joke?
No. Like a drowning man, he’s desperate to grab onto anything that will buoy him, give him hope. He’s back downstairs in less than ninety seconds, Zack close on his heels.
“This is real?” he asks.
The line is on hold. “We think so. Remember, we did not hear Eve order Robby’s death. We did not hear that gun shot. All we know is that there was a fucked up drop. Maybe the bomb was unrelated. You did what you were supposed to do. You want your son back. You have the money.”
He snatches the phone from my hand. “I got it. I got it.”
Bradley presses a button and the call connects.
“This is Maitlan. Let me talk with Robby.”
A moment’s silence on the line. Then a tremorous voice fills the room. “Daddy?”
Maitlan’s knees sag. He drops into a chair. “Is that really you, son?”
“I’m scared and—”
The remainder of the boy’s sentence is muffled. We hear the sound of a door close.
“I need to hear that he’s all right. Unharmed. Put my son back on the damn phone!” he demands.
“You heard his voice. You know he’s alive. Now we talk about the money.”
“The money. I was ready to pay the ransom this afternoon. Someone might get the impression you guys didn’t really want it.”
“You’ve got it wrong. The money is all we want. We were as surprised as you. We were there, ready to make the exchange. We’re ready to go ahead now. But the price has gone up. We want twenty million. Get it. We’ll call back at three this afternoon with instructions. And Maitlan, we know the FBI is involved. But if you try to fuck us, you’ll never see your kid again. This is your last chance. You come alone to the drop, and we all part friends. Got it?”
“Yes, I’ve got it. Twenty million. You’ll call at three. Can I please speak—” The call is killed.
Maitlan spins around in his chair to face Zack. “He’s not dead,” he whispers. “He’s not dead.”
“But Eve thinks he is,” I remind him. “First she double-crosses them with the ransom drop.”
“Now it looks as if they’re double-crossing her,” Zack adds.
Torres removes her headset and tosses it onto the table. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for. We’ll follow Eve tomorrow. She’ll lead us to the kidnappers and Robby.”
Zack leans back against the doorjamb. “She’ll lead us somewhere,” he says. “But my guess is that the kidnappers and Robby will be long gone.”
But Torres remains hopeful. “Unless they’re looking for revenge. Could be they are planning a burial. Just not Robby’s.”
“Best case scenario, we nab them all and bring Robby home safe and sound,” I say. “If they’ve already cleared out, we’ll at least have Eve leading us to the scene where Robby was held. We can make her give up her accomplices. Once she realizes they’ve thrown her under the bus, that shouldn’t be hard.”
“And, we have a pretty persuasive bargaining chip. The tape of her telling them to kill Robby,” adds O’Neill. “She’ll have a tough time denying involvement. She’s a smart woman. She’ll know she’s looking at hard time. Eve’s going to want to deal.”
And if she doesn’t, I think, I’ll leave her no choice, use my own method of bargaining.
Maitlan looks like a condemned man minutes away from execution who has been granted an unexpected full pardon. He’s now standing strong, shoul
ders back, hands steady. “I’ll phone my friend at the bank and tell him to get the money ready.”
But his eyes are still shadowed and dull. His face worn from stress and worry. Zack reaches out and gives Maitlan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Then try to get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. You’re going to need to be strong for your son when we get him back.”
Maitlan gives us a weary smile. “I’m sorry for…” He points to Zack’s jaw.
Zack shrugs. “You needed to hit something. Glad I could be of service. Now, go make that call.”
“If you don’t mind,” Torres interjects, “when you’re done, we’ll trade off catching a couple hours each on the sofa in your office. It’s going to be a long day for all of us.”
“Not a problem. There’s a shower across the hall if you need it. It connects to both the office and the gym. It’ll be yours in five minutes.”
Once he’s gone. O’Neill stands up and stretches. “I could use a workout and a shower. Give me an hour, then I can hold down the post while you two catch some Z’s.”
Bradley waves him off. “Knock yourself out.” He turns to Torres. “I’ll take first shift. No sense you waiting up with me. If anything happens, you’ll be right across the hall. I expect we have at least until daybreak. Eve believes her orders were carried out. She thinks the boy is already dead.”
So much has happened in the last few hours, I feel whip-lashed. Sex with Zack outside Elysium; hearing Eve order Robby’s death; the sound of the gunshot; the unexpected bombshell that Robby is still alive. I’m numb from the shock of it all. I can’t even imagine how Maitlan is feeling.
Zack startles me by placing a hand on my arm. “You okay?”
I look into his face. I wonder if I should tell him that I heard what he said to Maitlan about us—that we had a thing, that it was casual and over, end of story.
Hardly seems worth the effort. I shrug. “Yes.”
He cocks his head, looks at me. Waits.
“No,” I admit. “When the call came in, I was heading upstairs. What you said to Maitlan is true for us too. We need to at least get a couple hours of rest.”
“I’m going to check on Roger, then I’ll be right behind you.”
* * * *
Back in my assigned room, I don’t bother undressing or changing. I just slip out of my shoes, push the array of decorative pillows off of the queen-sized bed, then flop down face first. I don’t even pull down the covers. Images and sounds flit through my mind, but I can’t hold on to a single one. I feel like I’m flying, weightless, defying the laws of gravity like I used to. Then falling plummeting toward a place called Elysium.
There’s a knock.
I lift my head and look back. Through bleary eyes I see Zack, backlit by the bathroom light. He’s standing just inside my room, holding a roll of what appears to be duck tape.
“I have something for you,” he says.
I let my head fall back down onto the pillow. “Something no Siren in her right mind would turn down.” Laughter bubbles up out of me. Did I say that out loud?
I feel the bed shift, the lamp on the bedside table snaps on.
Zack places his thumb under my eye and gently pulls it down to examine the inside of my lower lid. “You’re anemic. Kallistos’ text said you might need more blood, so I’ve been keeping a close eye on you.” he says. “Though I loathe to admit it, he was right.”
If I’d been able to sleep, to eat properly, to stay hydrated, Kallistos’ infusing me with his blood would have been enough to heal me, more than enough. But I haven’t. I’ve been running myself ragged. I hear the screech of tape being stripped from the roll. I turn over, blinking against the brightness. Zack is taping something to the bedpost. “Where did you get blood?”
“Does it matter? It’s safe. You need it.” Zack straightens my arm, rubs a spot in the crease of my elbow with alcohol, then places a tourniquet around by bicep.
“But you don’t know my blood type. I don’t like needles.”
“I don’t need to. This is type O. Close your eyes.” I feel a prick as the needle breaks the skin then nothing as he releases the tourniquet and then uses surgical tape to secure the line so it and the needle won’t move.
I open one eye and glance down. The tube connecting the bag to the needle in my arm is now running red. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I’ve had some experience. This is going to take three or four hours to run.” He reaches for the riding crop that I’d carelessly thrown on the bed and neglected to remove. “We’ll use this as a splint. It will help prevent you from bending or moving your arm.” More surgical tape is wound around my arm.
I place my hand over his. “It is vampire blood?”
Zack sighs. He pulls the sweatshirt he’s wearing over his head and extends his bandage-covered arm. “It’s my blood. Let’s get you under the covers.”
He pulls them back and I awkwardly slide in.
Zack turns off the light then moves around to the other side of the bed. “I’m staying with you. If you notice anything off, fever, chills, headache, nausea. Wake me.”
Before I have a chance to register any protest, he’s managed to turn me on my side and curl himself around me.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” I feel the beat of his breath against the back of my hair.
“For what?”
There’s a long pause. “I wish I knew. For the secrets between us, I guess. For the lies. For our inability to be honest with one another.”
Cocooned in the darkness with Zack’s body wrapped around mine, I asked the question that had been nagging at me. “Were you being truthful when you said you loved me? Or when you told Maitlan that what we had was casual. Over.” Sleep was tugging mercilessly at my consciousness.
“At the time the declaration was heartfelt and true,” he says.
Was.
“I’d trust you with my life, Emma.”
Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. I nod and try not to sound as sad and angry as I feel. I’ve been here before with another man, a man I thought I could love and protect. Lesson learned. I reach for Zack’s hand and place it over my breast. I take a few quiet breaths to steady myself. To tamp down the emotion that wants to cling to my voice. Then I say what I must.
“Just don’t ever, ever, trust me with your heart.”
Chapter Nine
Day Three: Monday, September 9
By six we’re all sitting around the conference room table. Maitlan has supplied us with bagels and cream cheese, coffee and juice. We’re refreshed, refueled, and ready. Now it’s time for the waiting game. A few minutes after six thirty, Eve places a call, again using the speaker function.
The call goes immediately to voicemail. There’s no greeting. My guess is the guys have dumped it. We hear a growl of frustration followed by a crash. The line disconnects.
“Somebody’s not having a good morning,” says Torres, smiling into her cup of Joe.
There’s a flurry of activity in Eve’s apartment. She picks up her landline and calls down to the concierge, ordering that her car be brought around. Footfalls on the hardwood floors allow me to imagine her moving around her apartment. Finally there’s the bing of an elevator. She’s heading to the garage. My guess, to her SUV.
I look up at Bradley. “You’re all set to track her?”
“Piece of cake,” he says.
Torres’ cell phone buzzes. She listens for but a moment before disconnecting. “One of my guys confirmed Eve just left Elysium. She’s in a white BMW SUV. They’ll tail her at a safe distance until we can catch up.”
Zack tosses his half-eaten bagel into the trash. “Bradley, you stay behind and handle coms. O’Neill, Torres, Monroe, we’ll head out in two separate cars.”
“What about me? I’m going with you,” says Maitlan.
Zack flashes him a look that says he’ll tolerate no arguments. “No. You’re staying here. If the kidnappers get nervous and step up their timeline, we ne
ed to be ready. You need to be here. And you have to maintain a cool head. Remember, ask to speak to Robby. Agree to their demands. Bradley will talk you through it.”
Maitlan nods. He looks at Bradley, his new lifeline. Then back at us. “I have a beater Chevy truck in the garage. Space 104. I barely drive the thing, I certainly don’t take it to social events or Elysium. Eve wouldn’t recognize it. The keys are marked and hanging by the elevator on the key rack.”
“When will the money be here and ready?” asks Zack.
Maitlan checks his watch. “I called my banker last night. It’s too much for me to waltz out of the bank with. They own an armored Mercedes. He’s bagging up the money, placing the duffels in the trunk and driving it over. I should have it in hand by ten.”
Zack turns to Bradley. “Keep a security detail on it.”
“Will do.”
“Roger?” Zack’s hand is on Maitlan’s arm. “You going to be all right?”
He narrows his eyes. “I will be as soon as I have my son back. Zack? Don’t let them get away.”
Zack releases his grip. “We won’t.”
* * * *
We pick up Eve’s tail on I-87 N out of the city. Zack is riding shotgun. The two of us are in the lead car, our dress casual. Just two folks heading out of the city to enjoy a little fresh air for the day. Torres and O’Neill are following in a black sedan with tinted windows. Thanks to Bradley, we’re all in communication.
“Where do you think she’s heading?” Zack asks after we’ve been traveling thirty minutes.
“No cement, no skyscrapers. I think they call this the country,” Torres replies dryly.
No kidding. We’re surrounded by gently sloping farmland and green pastures. “It’s hard to believe this is right outside New York City,” I say.
“For how long, who knows?” Torres replies. “More and more families are selling out to developers. A few have preserved their farms, but the money is a great temptation to most.”
“Does Eve have property out here?” I ask.
Bradley chimes in. “Not that I’ve been able to find.”
We’re a good ten car lengths behind Eve. An impatient driver passes Torres, then us. He rolls down his window and flicks out a cigarette. I get the feeling he’s about to pass Eve as we approach the turnoff to Underhill Avenue from the Taconic State Parkway, but he doesn’t have to. Her turn signal flashes on.
