by Amy Faye
The Detective looks at her like he's not sure what to do. Like he's afraid that if he touches anything she'll break. Is she making him feel bad, too?
Because if there's anything that she doesn't want, it's to make the Detective feel bad. He's the only one who wants to help her, right now.
And without Ava, Anna Witt can't think of what she'd do without someone helping her. So she'd better not upset him.
Chapter Sixteen
Josh Meadows swallows his frustration and swallows his worry. She's up now. She's got her face straightened back out. His heart goes out to her, but that's the best he can do for right now.
Right now it's time for something more important. There's work to be done.
"We've had eye-witness accounts that show her putting the money into the car. We've got four separate guys who saw the exchange take place, we've got a recording of Anna dropping off the package. There is no way she didn't make the drop, and there is no way that it was the wrong guy. Is that right, Sherry?"
"Absolutely correct," she says.
Seeing the scene here, she might have backed me up if Josh had backed her up. They'd have to make apologies if they did that. It's better not to, unless things are looking real bad.
"So let's put that thought out of our heads. No way was this the wrong one. Which means, Mr. Stone, that your kidnappers just lied to you."
Mitch doesn't respond. Josh watches him closely for some response. He doesn't look surprised to hear it. Then again, he doesn't look shifty, either. There's a weird sort of balance there. He's just looking at his phone.
For a long moment, Detective Meadows considers taking the thing out of his hand, the son of a bitch. He doesn't. It would get him a citation so fast it would make his head spin. This was every single read that Josh had gotten on the kid from the beginning.
Bored by the whole thing. The only time that he seemed to be remotely interested in anything was when he was using Anna as his punching bag.
That was going to have to stop if someone were watching, so the minute that Josh shows up without her, or he has to leave her be, he's just sick of the situation. What had he said to her, while they were outside?
What had he threatened her with? What had he decided it was totally a good idea to tell her? Whatever he'd done, he'd reduced the girl into a pile of rags and tears. What surprises Josh more is that the elder Mr. Queen did nothing.
There was a strange balance in his emotions. For Anna, he seemed to be only marginally concerned. She might not even exist in his mind. She's just a secondary thing. Barely a person.
And yet, when her daughter disappears, he's gripped of a terrible fear. A few thoughts about what that might mean flash through Josh's thought. He can't put any stock in suck considerations.
There's nothing to be gained from wild speculations, not when you don't have any proof. Especially when the one you're speculating against is one of the most powerful men in the state.
"So what are we going to do next? Do we pay them again? Do we tell them that we know they've got the money?"
Mitchell sits up straight, and slips his phone into his pocket. Some sign of life from him must mean something, even if there's no way to be sure exactly what it's supposed to mean at this point. No doubt he'll tell us.
They should have gotten the F.B.I. involved from the start. It was a mistake to think that they would be able to handle this by themselves. Josh worked Major Crimes, and that meant that kidnappings, in a certain limited sense, were his job.
In a much realer sense, he'd never dealt with anyone actively working to fuck up any attempt to pay them. He'd heard about cases like that. There is only one usual answer. It's not one that he wants to have to contend with right now.
Ava is alive. Has to be.
The phone buzzes in Mitchell's pocket. He pulls it out, jabs at the screen. Josh circles around to have a look.
On the screen is a photo. A baby. Maybe old enough to crawl, now. She's looking around the room, not at the camera, and one of her hands reaches out of the blanket that she's been swaddled in.
Lying next to her is a photograph of the daily newspaper. It's embarrassingly thin, now, but it shows the date just fine.
Another message buzzes through. '2 million this time. For screwing with us.'
Josh doesn't like the feeling he's got, but he's not going to let it stop him. "Tell him that we're certain that they were paid."
Josh looks up at him with an expression that says that if the younger Queen had his way, Meadows wouldn't open his mouth. Well, there are times to worry about what the boy thinks, and times not to.
This wasn't one of Mitch Queen's times, whether he liked it or not. No, in fact, Josh Meadows assumes that he won't like it one bit. That doesn't particularly matter.
It's not about what Queen, or his father, like. It's about trying to get the kid back, and trying to find out who did it.
Josh levels a hard expression at Mitch. The detective can almost see the kid's hackles raise, like a dog that's decided that he needs to defend his territory. He doesn't like being looked at this way? That's too God damned bad.
Mitch blinks first. He turns and looks down at his screen and swipes his finger across the screen until the words on the text app read more or less what Josh had told him to put.
The message sends. They don't have to wait long for a response.
'So? Do you want the kid, or not?'
"Tell him not to play fuckin' games with us. I'm getting tired of it, and I'm sure everyone else is, too. They want more money, say they want more money. We make one payment, and we trade. Right then and there."
Mitchell sends the message. There are little changes. Changes that don't mean anything at all, in the long run, or at least don't mean anything as far as Josh Meadows is able to tell.
"Okay. Now we wait."
They don't wait long. Josh uses the time to look over at Anna Witt. She's standing there, breathing real slow. She's got her eyes shut. To his great pleasure, she's got a serene expression on her face.
It's hard to tear his eyes away, now that he's given himself permission to look. The swell of her hips, the way that her body still has the soft look of motherhood. The way her breasts press against the fabric of her shirt. The curves that fill her out.
He forces himself to pull his eyes away when the phone buzzes in Mitch Queen's hand.
'Fine. Three million. Tonight, or no deal.'
Is this supposed to be some kind of test? Whether or not they can raise the money in a couple of hours?
The detective looks up at Al Queen. Mitch does his part by reading the text out loud to the room. Nobody likes the way that it's going so far.
Al Queen grinds his fingertips into his eyelids. His voice is quiet. It's nothing like the man that they always show on television. He looks tired, and he looks old. "Alright. Fine. What time?"
Beside Josh, the younger Queen starts moving his fingers around the screen. The detective has a concern, though, and he's not going to keep it to himself, in spite of the fact that maybe he should.
"Is that sort of money on-hand, sir? Or… what?"
"It has to be, doesn't it? Can't let them hurt a child."
"No, that's true. But money that isn't there, just isn't there."
"But it is there," the old man says. He lets out a breath, real slow. "So we have to pay it, don't we?"***END OF FILE***
// moved from main text: 03-22-2016 11:25 //
"But it is there," the old man says. He lets out a breath, real slow. "So we have to pay it, don't we?"
Chapter Seventeen
Anna wanted nothing to do with the next exchange. Nothing at all. She'd already screwed everything up once. Why would they want to put her in charge of doing it a second time?
Who would trust someone who screwed up as much as she did? Why would they want her to do anything at all? She should just stay in the car and hope that they forget that she's even there.
That would be the best way. They'd be able
to get everything done, and everyone would be alright. No need to worry about how they were going to exchange Ava and the money. Just as long as Ava was back, the rest of it wouldn't matter.
Other people might not think so, but there's nothing else in the entire equation. Not really. Not when it's weighed against her daughter's life. If she could give up anything at all, she would. In a heartbeat.
Apparently, though, the only thing that she's got to offer the world is that she used to know Mitch. Mitch used to know her. Now she's nobody at all, just the woman who screws up paying kidnappers and loses her baby. Just the woman who—humiliatingly—can't help but be attracted to the cop who's looking for Ava.
Why can't they just find her, so that Anna can get back to her life? Get back to her meetings, get back to feeding Ava.
She wouldn't admit it to anyone, of course. It's too private, too personal, and frankly a little bit weird all told, but her breasts hurt. They're too full of milk, to the point where they're practically leaking.
She takes a deep breath, holds it. Lets it out. Waits a second before taking another deep breath. She's going to start panicking again. She can feel the terror inside her, threatening to rise up and overwhelm her once more.
She can't afford to let that happen, not when people are relying on her to make sure that everything ends up going according to plan.
She won't be alone this time. There will be someone else. They'd asked to send the cop with her. That was nixed right off the bat. Too dangerous. Much too dangerous. Risking a cop seeing their faces, hearing their voices…
No, that would be a big risk. The kidnappers had refused. They only had an hour or two to prepare disguises, if they were even going to use anything more than the dark glasses and ski mask that the guy earlier had worn.
Part of Anna wondered how much of this was according to plan. They'd tried to lie and say that she didn't pay up, but she had. She absolutely had. So why lie about it?
She takes another deep breath. Holds it. Maybe she's not wrong. Linda always says that Anna beats up on herself too much. Always says it. Maybe she's right. But maybe, this time, Anna's not wrong.
Maybe she's not important in this. Maybe it's all about who she knows. Maybe they took Ava because of Mitchell, because of whose son he was. Maybe they took Ava because of who her grandfather was.
What that means, it's hard to say. There must be some kind of meaning to it, but… Anna's head gets fuzzy. Even as the panic starts to go down—it's the lowest it's been since she woke up to find Ava missing—it's still hard to separate out the thoughts she's having from the thoughts that are intruding into her mind.
She picks up the bag of money. It's heavy. Much heavier than the last one. She uses two hands and she picks it up for a minute, takes a few shuffling steps, and has to set it down again.
Mitchell sneers at that. Still, his father reaches down and picks up the bag. He's got a voice that she likes. One that reminds her of her own father. "Come on. I'll carry this, you just worry about Ava."
Her heart picks up a little bit at the thought that she might have her daughter in her arms in a few short minutes. Just a few minutes from now, and she'll be back with her daughter.
The panic goes down again. Only a 5 out of 10. She can manage a 5. She doesn't even get the giggles at a 5.
She walks beside him. Mr. Queen doesn't talk much. The others stay back a long way. They can see, barely, in the darkened park. No lights to see by, but no lights to blind them, either.
Somewhere back in the distance, Josh and Sherry and probably a few others in policemen's uniforms are watching the whole thing. They probably have some high-tech stuff that lets them see in the dark.
They probably have some men with rifles, too. As they move into the park, though, it's becoming increasingly clear how useful rifles will likely be.
There's a van parked. Backed up. The back doors are open, and a man Terry's size sits, a mask over his face. He's not wearing dark glasses, but aside from the whites of his eyes there's nothing to see under the mask, as if he's blacked his skin up with grease.
In his arms, a little baby reaches for his finger as he reaches it out to her. She coos and gurgles. The sounds of a healthy baby girl. He pulls away the gloved finger before Ava can reach it, but she reaches for it nonetheless.
He looks up before they get close. "Did you bring the money?"
Mr. Queen's voice sounds confident. Nothing like how Anna feels, even as the panic subsides a little more at the sight of her daughter.
"It's all right here," he says.
"Let's see it," the guy says.
In spite of their comparable size, the guy's voice is too high-pitched to be Terry's. He stands up, and the rear end of the van rises off its springs as his weight comes up.
He hands the baby over to Anna. Her arms wrap around Ava. It's really her. It's really Ava. Beautiful girl. Pretty girl. Ava smiles at her mother. Anna can't stop grinning, can't stop looking at her little girl.
She doesn't notice what's going on until she hears Mr. Queen grunt hard. That brings her eyes up, even as she steps back to keep the baby away from harm.
The big guy has a fist embedded in Mr. Queen's gut. The kidnapper squats down and bends the old man over his shoulder, and then stands up underneath him, and the former mayor—currently looking good to win a congressional seat from the incumbent—goes with him.
"Go on, get out of here," the guy says. The strain of carrying changes his voice a little. Squeezed and nasal. She'd almost say it sounded fake. But none of that matters, not really.
They'll figure out what happened to Mr. Queen, in the end. But right now, she's got her daughter back, and that's all that Anna is worried about.
It's not fair to Mitch, not to care about his father. It's definitely not fair to the old man, who never said a sour word to her. But that doesn't change how she feels about it.
She hefts the girl in her arms a little, bringing her higher up. Right by her face. She leans down to press a kiss into the baby's forehead, and then turns to start back. They'll want to know all about what happened, when she gets back.
So if she wants to spend as much time as possible with the baby girl, then she'll have to take her time now. She squeezes a little tighter. Her head's a little light from the sheer thought of what's happened the past few days.
She has her daughter back, though. No way are they going to have even as much trouble getting Mr. Queen back as they did with Ava. Because there's nobody in the world who'd dream of hurting him.
Not like Ava. Nobody would get themselves hurt to protect Ava. Nobody but Anna, Detective Meadows, and apparently Mr. Queen.
Chapter Eighteen
It wasn't hard to see, through the night-vision binoculars, what was happening. What was hard was figuring out a way to do something about it. And figuring out what the hell it all meant.
It wasn't hard to figure out what Mitch's reaction would be. He'd either be angry that Anna hadn't somehow figured out a way to stop it—because everything was her fault, all the time—or he'd be disinterested. Those were the only two emotions he had about any of this.
Either it's all a big hassle for him, a big embarrassment for him, or it's not something worth thinking about at all. The thought puts Josh into a bad mood right off the bat. He turns the binoculars towards Anna. He can't see her face through the infrared, but she's got something in her arms.
From the size, from the way that she's so wrapped up in it, it's not hard to know what it is. When a bright orange shape reaches out, up towards Anna's face, it all but confirms.
His heart flutters in his chest. Thank God. They've got something, at least. Things went bad. But they've got a long time to deal with that. They'll want way more than a few petty million dollars out of a billionaire's pocket.
Never mind that there would be more than one major source of funding who would love to have a sitting congressman who knows exactly how much he has to appreciate from them. That by itself would be worth tens
of millions. Hundreds of millions of dollars.
Josh sets the binoculars down.
"Where are you going?" He looks down at Sherry as he pushes himself up.
"I'm going to meet Miss Witt. That boy is going to give her hell when his daddy ain't with her, and you and I both know it."
She doesn't argue. She doesn't argue because she knows he's right, in spite of the fact that she might not want to think about it. Nobody wants to think about it, but that doesn't change reality.
Josh stuffs his hands into his pockets and shifts his weapon out of the way. It seems like no matter where he's got it, it's always in the way. Maybe the answer is a shoulder holster. Some guys prefer them.
Still, that would be weird, too. Uncomfortable. And he wouldn't be able to walk around without his jacket on without advertising it to the whole world, which isn't exactly what he wants either.
He makes good time getting there, but they were a long way back. Anna, who only had a hundred yards or so to go, can't take that much time. Which means that by the time Detective Meadows gets there, she's already back there with Mitchell.
Josh isn't in a position to hear the whole conversation, but things can't have gone too far.
"—thinking, were you?"
"I'm sorry, Mitch, I didn't mean to—"
"I'm sure you're real sorry, you dumb bitch. I can't fucking believe they trusted you with this. Didn't they know how bad you'd fuck it up? Haven't they seen how much you've fucked up everything else so far?"
Anna's curled herself up around the baby, now. Like she's trying to form a protective shell around the girl. Though it's Mitchell's little girl, and though he's never seen her in his life, he doesn't seem to have any interest in looking at the kid.
"Cut it out, Mitch." Josh's own voice surprises him. It's got a hard edge to it. A threat that he's not going to put into words, but one that he's absolutely willing to put to the test.
