Mr. Addison finally answered the call, putting it on speakerphone.
“Who is this?” asked a deep voice which sounded robotic. Like Darth Vader. The Snatcher must be using some device to distort his voice.
“Bill… Bill Addison,” Emma’s father answered.
“Okay, Bill-Bill Addison. I’ll do the talking—you do the listening. If you interrupt me, the girls die. Understand?”
“Yes,” gasped Mr. Addison, looking like he might faint. “We’ll do what you say, just don’t hurt—”
“You’re not listening, Bill-Bill. You make that mistake again, I hang up and the girls are dead. You understand? Just say yes.”
“Yes.”
The blond-haired FBI agent had his hand on the shoulder of a technician who was frantically trying to trace the caller.
“I want the money delivered by one driver. Not a cop. Not FBI. Has to be a civilian. I want the person who owns the blue pickup truck sitting outside the Addison house right now to drive that truck with the money and the cell phone you’re holding. And I saw the guy driving it when he arrived, so don’t make a switch. If a cop shows up, I’ll know and the girls are dead. If I notice any drones or helicopters, same thing. You’ll never see me and the girls are dead.”
A chill slid down Pepper’s spine. It was his blue pickup truck parked outside. The Snatcher wanted him to drive the two million dollars to the drop-off? What the hell?
“No way,” hissed his dad, but low enough that the kidnapper couldn’t hear.
The FBI agent gave Pepper’s dad a shush motion.
“And to make sure you don’t try anything stupid, the driver will bring your other daughter. What’s her name, the little blonde? Just the civilian driver and her. And no bullshit. Oh, and they both need to wear bathing suits under their clothes.
“Put the two million in the red duffel bag in the box. Not some other fancy FBI bag. They need to drive to the Lower Cape Shopping Plaza parking lot and arrive no later than ten minutes from right now. No tricks or the girls die. Go!”
The call disconnected.
“No way,” repeated his dad. “Pepper’s not driving the money. You guys have to swap someone in.”
The FBI agent who looked like Barney Rubble started a stopwatch countdown on his digital watch. “Which of us look like him?” he asked. “The kid’s bigger than any of us and fifteen years younger. Maybe with more time, with a wig and makeup… But he has to get on the road in what, two minutes? Or he’ll be late. I just pulled up the directions. We don’t have a lot of options.”
Pepper took a deep breath. “I can do it,” he said. “I’d just be dropping off a bag.” His voice sounded like it came from a stranger.
“I’m not sending Shauna with him,” said Mr. Addison. “I can’t risk her life too. I don’t think I can take this…”
“Mr. Addison, we don’t have another blonde fourteen-year-old,” said the taller agent. “The kidnapper holds the cards for now, but that’ll change real fast. We have to play along. We’ll put her in a bulletproof vest. She’ll be fine.”
“Sixty seconds,” said Barney Rubble, watching his watch. “We don’t want our driver to be late.”
“I’ll do it,” said Pepper. “And I’ll take care of Shauna. We’ll drop the money and get out of there. The FBI and the rest of you guys won’t do anything until we’re clear, right?”
Mr. Addison buried his head in his hands. “I don’t like it. I just don’t like it.”
“None of us do. But it’s our best chance to get the Emmas back. Maybe our only chance.”
Chapter Thirty-One
It was all going down right now.
The FBI had rigged Pepper up with a tiny earpiece and a nearly invisible mic. And he and Shauna, the younger Addison daughter, were each wearing a bulletproof vest. Pepper took a deep breath and put his truck in drive. “You ready?” he asked the blonde girl.
Shauna nodded, sitting hunched down in a too-big bulletproof vest. The girl was sweating despite the air conditioning, and she looked pale.
“The cops’ll be all around,” said Pepper reassuringly. “They even have a helicopter and a boat. We’ll be fine.”
“Will Emma be there? Is she coming home with us?”
“I hope so,” he said. “We’ll see. You’re a brave girl to help your sister.”
“She’s gonna owe me, big time,” she said, as if trying to crack a joke. Then she started to cry quietly.
Pepper drove to the Lower Cape Shopping Plaza parking lot, as instructed. He arrived only two minutes late. He parked in the middle, far away from any cars. The lot was almost empty at eleven-thirty—maybe ten cars scattered around it. Was the kidnapper in one of those cars?
He parked and waited.
Pepper knew the FBI and other agencies were surveilling the situation, but they hadn’t told him any other details. He wondered where they were. How were they watching? It was probably better he didn’t know.
Pepper saw a man standing in the shadows by the row of storefronts, in front of a closed, dark barbershop. A vehicle drove through the parking lot, its lights highlighting the man’s face as it slowed. The man turned away too late.
It was Scooter McCord! Pepper was positive—the red hair, the beefy face, everything. It was definitely him.
The vehicle parked right near where he had seen McCord lurking. It was a gray minivan with a dent in the driver’s side door. Fester Timmins’ ride!
What the hell were McCord and Timmins doing there at that time of the night?
The burner cell phone from the box rang. Pepper had brought it with them as instructed.
Pepper answered it. “Um, hello?”
“You need to listen and not talk, unless I ask you a question. Understand? You don’t look very bright.” The voice was the same as Pepper had heard at the Addisons’ house. A man’s voice, deep and altered electronically.
Pepper didn’t answer the man, since what he’d said wasn’t a question. He peered toward where McCord had been standing, but Timmins had turned off his headlights and Pepper could only see the minivan, not either of the men. Were they in on the ransom drop? What the hell other reason would they have for being at a closed shopping center close to midnight?
“Good,” said the voice. “Play this straight and everyone gets home safe. Drive to the New Albion High School parking lot. Wait for another call. Don’t phone or text anyone to say where you’re going. If I see you on a phone or I see a cop, the girls die. Understand?”
“I understand.”
The caller hung up.
Pepper wished he could communicate his destination with the police but didn’t want to screw things up. So he didn’t. He had to trust what the FBI told him—they’d be watching. And he’d seen them put a tracking device under the belly of his truck.
He drove to the New Albion high school parking lot. It wasn’t too long ago he’d done that every day as a student. It seemed familiar but weird. The lot was empty except for one large black car parked near the entrance to the high school.
Pepper parked a fair distance from that car, nearer the middle of the empty lot.
The burner cell phone rang again.
“You and the girl get out of your car, carrying the money bag. Stay on the line.”
So they did. Pepper stood there in the parking lot with the big duffel of money over his shoulder. He took Shauna’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
The voice came over the burner phone again. “I know you’re wearing a mic and an earpiece. Take them off, hold them in the air, and throw them as far as you can. Right now. Or this deal is off and the girls die.”
Pepper’s mind raced. Was the Greenhead Snatcher bluffing? How could he know about the mic and the earpiece? They were both too small for someone to see from a distance, even with binoculars.
No, he couldn’t risk it. He took out the earpiece and the mic, held them up, then threw them across the parking lot where they slid into a puddle. Whoops—the FBI would not be us
ing those again.
“Okay, walk toward the school with the bag of money. Now stop.”
They were almost at the school building. Pepper saw the large black car was a Chrysler 300. Possibly about five years old. It was backed into a spot close to the walkway to the school’s front entrance.
“Get in the Chrysler. The doors are unlocked.” The call disconnected.
Pepper did as instructed and found another cheap cell phone lying on the driver’s seat. And there were three cameras on the dashboard pointing at them. Covering the entire front seat.
The new phone rang and he answered it.
“Take the battery out of the old phone and throw the phone and the battery out the window. Then pop the trunk.”
Pepper did as he was told, reluctantly. The Snatcher had rightly assumed the FBI was tracking the original burner phone.
“Okay, both of you go to the trunk and take out one of the black bags you’ll find there. It doesn’t matter which one. Stay on the phone.”
Pepper and Shauna found three identical large black duffel bags in the trunk. He took out the one on the far right.
“Dump out the new bag, it’s full of scrap paper. Now transfer the money to the new bag. One bundle at a time. Hold it up so I can see what you’re putting in there. I don’t want to see any wires or tracking tech. No bullshit. If there’s a dye pack, don’t transfer it.”
Pepper knew there wasn’t a dye pack. There was a tiny tracking device sewn in the red money bag’s lining, but there was nothing Pepper could do about transferring it now.
He did what the man said. He took out each bundle of bills, held it up, then put it in the new bag. What else could he do? Shauna stood beside him, shivering. The night wasn’t cold, so she was probably shivering from fear.
“You’re doing great,” Pepper said to her in a low voice.
“No more talking from you,” warned the man. “You’re taking too long. Have the girl help.”
Pepper and Shauna finished transferring the money without a word.
“Now toss the empty red bag off to the side. And put the black bag back in the trunk and shut it.”
Pepper did, putting the bag in the empty space to the right of the other two bags in the trunk. He didn’t want to mix them up.
“Now strip down to your bathing suits,” said the voice. “Everything except your bathing suits. That includes shoes. I want to see you’re not wearing a wire or a tracking device. Don’t get me worried or the girls are dead. I’m watching everything you do.”
“No way, I can’t do this anymore,” said Shauna. “Where’s Emma?”
Pepper gave her a pat on the shoulder which she shrugged off. “We have to,” he said apologetically. “It’ll be fine.”
“I want to go home!” Shauna pleaded.
The man’s voice came over the phone. “You’re a few seconds away from me killing the two Emmas. Don’t forget rule number one—you do what I say or the girls die.”
“You need to trust me,” Pepper whispered to Shauna. “We have to do this, for Emma.”
Finally, she relented. Pepper took off his bulletproof vest, helped Shauna out of hers, and they both undressed.
Pepper was wearing Mr. Addison’s bathing suit, which was way too big in the waist. With the drawstring pulled tight, the bathing suit’s fabric bunched up ridiculously in front.
Shauna turned away to get out of her jeans. Pepper felt rotten for her, with her sister abducted and now being thrown into the middle of this ransom situation. Pepper wanted to say something to the Snatcher—to not even think about hurting the Emmas, but the man had said not to talk unless to answer a direct question. Pepper would play it straight, no matter how hard it was to keep his mouth shut.
The voice came over the cheap cell phone again. “Both of you, put your hands in the air and slowly turn around. Now leave everything on the ground and get back in the Chrysler. You and the blonde. I’m not done with her yet.”
Shauna hugged herself, looking very young in her blue one-=piece bathing suit. Pepper could see the goosebumps on her arms.
It took every bit of his restraint to not answer the Snatcher. He was glad the girl couldn’t hear what the man was saying.
Pepper helped Shauna back into the car, closed her door, then jogged around to climb in himself.
The man on the phone grunted. “Start the car and turn on the radio, a little louder. Now you sit and wait. I’m making sure there aren’t any cops around. You don’t talk, you don’t signal anyone. I can see everything you or the girl do. Any foolishness and you know what happens. Sit and wait.”
And they did. Three minutes passed, then five. The radio was tuned to a rap music station, but he didn’t try to find something better. Shauna was crying now; he could see tears running down her cheek.
Pepper turned on the heat even though it broke the Snatcher’s rules. Maybe it would help Shauna stop shivering.
Was law enforcement nearby? Were they ready to spring the trap?
Pepper felt stupid and powerless, sitting there in the baggy bathing suit, waiting. It was ridiculous. He hoped he got to meet the kidnapper face-to-face at some point. He would only need a minute to give the bastard some well-deserved payback.
“I don’t like it,” said Gerald Ryan to the collection of law enforcement officers who had waited at the Addisons’ house.
The two FBI agents and two technicians had left in a mobile tactical van to carry out drone surveillance and coordinate the deployment of various law enforcement officers as necessary.
“What part?” asked a state police investigator.
“All of it.”
“A little late now,” said an Eastham detective.
Gerald wished he was in the mobile van. He knew it was parked three blocks from the New Albion high school. A technician was hovering two drones high over the school’s parking lot.
Two other drones would be slowly circling the area. The drones were silent above five hundred feet in the air, had night-vision cameras, a range of twenty-two miles, and had a flight time of ninety minutes. Unless the Greenhead Snatcher had extremely sophisticated equipment himself, he would have no way of detecting drones overhead.
Waiting uselessly, Gerald was mostly mad at himself for allowing Pepper to be drafted to deliver the ransom money. He should have insisted they replace him with a cop in Pepper’s clothes. How could the Snatcher really know if someone else drove his son’s truck? It had to be a bluff.
Unless the kidnapper was law enforcement himself? Then he might recognize the replacement driver as a cop, and the money drop would be jeopardized before it began.
But the driver shouldn’t have to be Pepper. Gerald didn’t question his son’s bravery, although lots of things could go wrong. It was a completely over-the-top situation for a twenty-year-old kid and a fourteen-year-old girl.
The Snatcher had sounded like he was on a hair trigger, and Gerald knew Pepper didn’t have a very diplomatic attitude. One wrong move, or even one wrong word, and the girls could be killed. And maybe Pepper and the younger Addison girl too.
Chapter Thirty-Two
After almost ten minutes, the Greenhead Snatcher called again and spoke to Pepper. “Okay, handsome, turn left out of the lot and start driving, nice and easy. Don’t speed but don’t go slow. Nice and steady.”
Pepper did.
After two miles, the man said. “Pull over to the side of the road.”
He did.
“So you got two dummy bags and one real one. You remember which is which, smart guy?”
“Yes. I—”
“Yes is all you need to say, tough guy. Take one of the dummy bags and toss it into the marsh, as far as you can. Let’s see who’s watching you despite my very clear instructions.”
He did what he was told.
“Okay, start driving again. I’m watching the spot you just left. If a cop shows up there, this little dance is over and the girls are dead. You keep driving. Turn right when you get to Spring Tid
e Lane.”
Pepper drove. He knew the FBI and the police would try to grab the Snatcher—he was glad he didn’t have the details. They were the pros, not him. He shouldn’t even be here. But the kidnapper was calling the shots, not him. He hoped it was all over soon…
The deep electronic voice continued. “Okay, the cops haven’t blown this yet. You should reach the little bridge over Pense Creek any time, you there yet? Stop on the bridge, then get the second dummy bag and throw it over the side.”
Pepper kept his mouth shut and did it.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” Shauna whispered when Pepper climbed back in.
“It’s almost over,” he said. He didn’t care if the Snatcher heard him. The girl was scared and shaking. Fuck him.
“All right, handsome, same deal. You drive, I watch. If the cops show up at the bridge, I hang up and the girls die.”
Got it, asshole, Pepper thought.
But he stayed silent and drove. Shauna was squirming on the seat beside him. She must really have to go to the bathroom bad.
“You can pee right on the seat if you have to,” said Pepper, keeping his eyes forward and trying to move his lips as little as possible, because of the cameras. “It’d serve him right if you peed in his car.”
He saw the girl smile slightly, but she shook her head. She must not be willing to give up, not yet.
Then the burner phone started beeping from a disconnected call.
Shit! Had the cops blown it? Did the Snatcher have a camera by the bridge? Had the police shown up where Pepper threw the second bag and been spotted? Or had the kidnapper heard him talking to Shauna?
The Snatcher had sounded completely ready to kill the Emmas. Had he hung up and headed to where the girls were being held? Ready to act?
Shit, shit, shit… Pepper kept driving, faster now, panicked and freaking out.
The burner phone rang again.
He frantically accepted the call. His chest was thumping with adrenaline. “You better not have—”
“Calm down, dummy! Must have been a bad cell signal on that road,” the deep voice chuckled. “I lost you for a minute.”
Kill Tide Page 17
