Sean shouted something that Sasha couldn’t make out over Karyn’s howling.
“Karyn!” Sasha had to scream to make herself heard.
Karyn wheeled around and glared at her, then grabbed her coat and raced out the front door, slamming it so hard that the pictures shook in their frames and the crucifix banged against the wall.
The rest of them stood in stunned silence for a long moment. Then Sasha’s mom took off her coat and went to the utility closet to get the broom and dustpan. Sasha found a trash bag. They cleared the rubble, then Ryan ran the vacuum over the floor to get the smallest slivers.
By the time they’d finished cleaning up the mess, it was after midnight.
Sasha spotted the little donkey peeking out from under the couch. She pulled it out and examined it. Unbroken, it was all that remained of Allie’s gift.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered to the figurine. She placed it on the mantel and trudged upstairs to bed.
“Sasha? Hey, Sasha,” Leo waved his hand in front of his wife’s unfocused eyes.
After a moment, she blinked and snapped to the present from … wherever she’d been.
“Oh, sorry. How long have you been standing there?”
“Only a minute or two,” he lied. He’d been hovering in the doorway to her office for a solid five minutes, waiting to see when she’d notice his presence. The fact that she hadn’t was troubling from a situational awareness standpoint, not to mention a concern about the mental health of the woman he loved standpoint.
“Lost in thought.”
“Evidently. Thinking about your brother?” He entered the office and pulled the door closed behind him. McCandless, Volmer & Andrews had an open-door policy at work, but sometimes exceptions were called for: like, say, the twentieth anniversary of one’s brother’s shooting death.
“No. I was thinking about Christmas, actually.”
He cocked his head. “That’s what happens when you start listening to holiday music the day after Halloween.”
“Fair enough.” She gave him a small smile. “What are you doing here, anyway? Did I forget a lunch date?”
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly four-thirty.
“That’d be a late lunch. No, Riley called this afternoon to see if the kids wanted to have a cousin playdate. Of course they did. I just dropped them off a couple hours ago.”
“All the cousins?”
“All the cousins,” he confirmed. Riley had been an elementary school teacher before she’d had her own kids. She seemed to miss the chaos of children running around underfoot, and she and Ryan were forever inviting the twins and Sean and Jordan’s kids over to play in the enormous fenced yard.
“Nice.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “She said she and Jordan went to church with your mom today. Lit a candle for Patrick.”
Her eyes drifted to the stack of papers at her elbow. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Sasha—”
“I have work to do, Connelly.”
He braced his arms on her desk and locked eyes with her. “Denial is not a long-term strategy.”
“It’s worked for two decades,” she shot back.
He sighed. “I stopped by my office and did some digging. I may have something for you on the black van.”
Her face softened, but he continued before she could speak. “I’ll give it to you, but there’s a catch. We’re going to a bonfire at Riley and Ryan’s tonight. They’re ordering pizzas and will rent a movie for the kids. Your parents will be there. Riley said you knew about it—she said it would be like a mini-wake. Tell some stories about your brother, have a few drinks.”
The guilt that flickered across her face was confirmation that she did. She knitted her eyebrows together. “It sounds vaguely familiar. I guess it must’ve slipped my mind.”
“But, we’ll go?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, definitely. I’m looking forward to hearing some Patrick stories.”
Something about the way she said it—coupled with how readily she’d agreed—gave him the impression that she was up to something. But she fixed him with a bright, innocent smile.
“Good. I’ll tell you about the van later then. I need to run some errands.” He’d keep the information as leverage, just in case she had any thoughts of backing out.
“Sure. Sounds good.”
She stretched over the desk and kissed him lightly. “I’ll finish up here and meet you back at the house.”
He nodded, still studying her too-open expression. Yeah, she definitely had an agenda. But she’d agreed to go, and that was progress. He’d take it as a win.
“Great. See you in a bit.”
The intercom on her phone beeped, and Caroline’s voice filled the room. “Sasha, I have a Raquel Jones on the line for you. I know Leo’s in there. Do you want me to put her through?”
Sasha made a shooing motion at Leo. “He’s just leaving. Give me a minute to grab my notes and then put her through. Thanks.”
Leo waved goodbye and opened the door. When he looked back to see if she wanted the door open or closed for her call, she was already poring over a notebook, her head bent.
He left it ajar and headed down the hall. Whatever was going on with Sasha, he knew one thing for certain: she’d put it aside the minute she had work to do. He just hoped she wouldn’t push it away forever.
16
Sasha was glad for the interruption. She could tell Connelly wanted to talk to her about Patrick, and she was happy to put off that conversation, even if it meant waiting to find out what he’d learned about the black van.
She pulled out her notes from her earlier conversation with Raquel Jones and hit the button to take the call.
“Ms. Jones? Has something happened since we spoke? The police didn’t show up, did they?”
She’d been very clear that if the Milltown Police appeared on her doorstep—with or without a warrant—Raquel was to call her immediately.
“No, I haven’t seen any sign of the cops.”
Sasha exhaled. “Good.”
She hoped the woman wasn’t already calling for an update. She’d barely had time to organize her thoughts and fill Will in on the strategy, let alone start drafting an emergency motion. But she also understood the woman’s frantic need to do something. Her partner wasn’t just missing; he was being held in secret by an unknown group. She found it terrifying; she could only imagine how Raquel felt.
“I heard from Charlie.”
Sasha dropped her pen. “You did? He’s been released?”
“No. He called me from … wherever he is. I didn’t get any details. He’s still in custody.”
“Did he say who was holding him? Anything at all?”
“No. Like I said, no details.”
“Okay. Well, what did he say?”
“I told him about you. I told him you were going to file an emergency motion. He said you should wait a day.”
“Wait a day? Ms. Jones—” Sasha started to launch into an explanation as to why that was a terrible idea, but the woman on the other end of the phone cut her off.
“That’s what he said.”
“Do you understand that an emergency motion won’t carry quite so much weight if a judge finds out we sat on it for a whole day?”
“I know. But Charlie asked. He’s the client, right?”
“Technically, you’re my client. I haven’t talked to him. I’d be filing on your behalf to demand your partner’s release. A delay will weaken your argument.” She kept her tone even and calm despite the fact that she wanted to scream.
“Look, I’m not saying I would do what Charlie’s doing. But I have to honor his request.”
“I just need you to understand it’s going to impact our ability to prosecute this. Do you understand that I’m advising against this?”
There was a long pause. “I do.”
She sighed. “It’s your call. I’ll keep working on it so that it’s ready as soon as you and Charlie
give me the go-ahead to file.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Is it possible Charlie was … under duress when he called you?”
“You mean, like being tortured or something?”
That is what she meant, she just didn’t want to say it. “Not necessarily. Did you get the sense that he didn’t want to say what he was saying?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “Honestly, no. If anything, it seemed like he’d agreed to help them with something and wanted us to wait so he could do it.”
“Help them—the men who abducted him at gunpoint?”
Raquel hesitated. Sasha could tell she was trying to work out how to put into words what was probably, at best, a hunch or gut feeling. Sasha trusted those more than the most reasoned analysis.
“Just tell me what happened and how you felt about it. Don’t censor or edit yourself. I want to hear what he told you, and what your impressions were. Okay?”
“Okay, sure. He said he needed a little more time. It’s seemed like he had some kind of leverage over them. Like he had something they wanted, and if he gave it to them, they’d let him go. He sounded confident and kind of in control. Almost like whatever he was doing was his idea.”
Sasha thought for a moment. What kind of leverage could Charlie have that would interest the men holding him?
“Do you think he has information about a crime or another detainee? Maybe he’s bargaining?”
“With law enforcement? No way. Charlie wouldn’t snitch. And he wouldn’t cooperate with an illegal operation. He’d never help them unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he was protecting someone. You heard that student—Troy. He said Charlie stood up for the kids. He’s a leader that way. He’s quiet, but he does the right thing. If there’s somebody else there with him who’s vulnerable or being mistreated, Charlie would do anything he could to help them. That I’m sure of.”
“Even at his own expense?”
Raquel Jones snorted. “Especially at his own expense. Most of the time when he gets into trouble, that’s why. He can’t just keep his mouth shut and let stuff go. Not Charlie.”
“And you have no idea who he’s trying to help or how?”
“I’m not sure, but I thought I heard someone tell him to end the call because it was time to talk to the deaf guy. I might have misheard, though.”
Sasha rubbed her forehead. “Assuming you heard correctly, does that mean anything to you?”
Raquel exhaled loudly. “I could be way off. But Charlie knows sign language. His aunt lost her hearing as a child. He picked it up when he was just a kid so he could talk to his Auntie Rae. He’s pretty fluent.”
“You think he could be interpreting?”
“Maybe? I mean, yes. If he’s being held with someone who’s hard of hearing, I think Charlie would offer to sign for him. He sure wouldn’t leave him there with no way to communicate.” The woman’s uncertainty and hesitation melted away, replaced by steel-edged conviction.
“Hmm. I’ll see if Rush, Troy, and Jordana had any luck tracking down any of other the students who ended up in the van. Maybe someone noticed a man using sign language.”
“Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just sit tight. I know it’s hard.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”
Raquel sniffled, and Sasha’s chest tightened in sympathy.
“I know. Now, I’ll be leaving the office shortly. I have an engagement. I will have my cell phone with me. Call or text me at the number I gave you earlier at any time. And I mean any time. Call me in the middle of the night. Call me very early in the morning. I don’t care what time it is. I need to know what you know when you know it.”
“Okay. Thank you. Thank you for doing this for Charlie.”
“Of course. Hang in there. We’ll get him home to you one way or another.”
Her voice broke, and she swallowed a sob. “You call me whenever you want, too. It’s not like I’m not going to be sleeping or anything. Not till Charlie’s home. He might think he’s in control. But guys in black with guns and no one to answer to? That gives me a bad feeling.”
You and me both.
“I promise I’ll call you right away if I need to talk to you. I do hope you'll try to to get some rest. You’ve spoken to Charlie, and you say he sounds good. He’s alive. That’s more than we knew just hours ago.”
“I guess.”
“It’s true. Take a walk. Take a nap. Make sure you eat some protein and drink lots of water. You have to take care of yourself, so you can take care of Charlie when we get him out.”
If we get him out.
“You’re right.”
She ended the call and reviewed her notes, flipping her pen against her desk. Charlie Robinson might think that he could outsmart or work with or do whatever it was he thought he was doing with whomever these people were. But she didn’t like it. Her eyes fell on the notes from the interview with Troy. She’d circled the name Barefoot.
She dropped the pen on her desk and turned toward the computer screen. She opened the Allegheny criminal records database and typed in ‘Barefoot.’
Bingo. With a few keystrokes, she had his name, record, and address.
What she planned to do with this information, she had no idea. But a visit to Mr. Barefoot was probably in order.
She checked the time. Not tonight.
She’d promised to go to the bonfire, and she didn’t want to get into a whole thing with Connelly. He thought she sometimes used work as an excuse to avoid dealing with personal issues. Even after all this time, he didn’t seem to understand that her client’s needs were often urgent, important, and demanded immediate attention. Her issues, such as they were, stemming from her brother’s death or whatever, could be dealt with at any time. It’s not like they were going anywhere.
But this time, she had reasons of her own for wanting to see her brothers and their wives.
She stood up and pushed back her chair. She’d update Will on the call from their client and then head out. Mr. Barefoot would keep until the morning.
17
Officer Scott shoved Charlie Robinson into the room, not as roughly as the last time. This time the man stayed on his feet.
Landon studied Robinson’s face. He needed to get a read on him before he started questioning Sam Blank.
"Did you make your phone call?"
"Yes. Thanks." Robinson glanced around the room.
"What?"
"Nothing. I was just hoping you’d have some more chairs brought in."
"Ah, missing the creature comforts are you, professor?"
The man gave him a lopsided smile. "Not exactly."
Landon drew himself up straight. "Perhaps you can post a review of your stay on one of the hospitality industry sites after you leave us."
Officer Scott snickered.
The prisoner shook his head. "Makes no difference to me, man. But if you want me and Sam to sign, we’ll need our hands. I thought you might feel better if our legs were cuffed to some chairs. Aren’t you scared we might, I don’t know, hobble over to you and choke you to death?"
Officer Scott sprang forward and pushed Charlie Robinson against the rough stone wall. "Is that supposed to be a threat?" He snarled.
"It’s an observation."
The guard cut his eyes toward Landon, who clicked his tongue against his teeth. "The professor’s right. I hadn’t considered the issue of the prisoners having their hands free. Please scare up two more chairs. We’ll do just as he suggests and shackle them to the chair legs."
Scott opened his mouth as if he might protest, and Landon silenced him with a look.
He released his grip on Robinson’s shirt and nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Thank you. And tell Officer Fox to bring the other prisoner while you’re at it."
Scott left, and Landon studied Charlie Robinson.
"What?" Robinson demanded.
<
br /> "I beg your pardon?"
"You obviously want to ask me something. I can’t imagine what’s stopping you. Ask away."
Landon shook his head. "You misunderstand. I don’t have any questions for you, Mr. Robinson. I’m trying to determine if I can trust you to interpret faithfully."
Robinson took his time answering. "Don’t suppose you have much choice." He tried to shrug. The motion of his shoulders was hampered by the handcuffs attached to his waist chain.
"No, I don’t suppose I do." Landon leaned forward, intent on restoring the balance of power. "I may need you now. But don’t mistake expediency for weakness. I’ll be video recording this interview so it can be reviewed in the future if need be. If I find out you’re doing anything other than signing exactly what I ask and relaying Mr. Blank’s responses verbatim, you’ll regret it. That’s neither a threat nor an observation, by the way. It’s a promise." He flashed a tight smile.
Robinson was studying him. "You have access to an interpreter? Then why don’t you just call him or her in to handle the interview?"
"As I may have mentioned earlier, it will take some time for me to locate and vet an American Sign Language expert. I’m using you for convenience, that’s all. But I’ll certainly be able to have your interpretation checked," he said blandly.
"Sure thing. By an ASL expert, right?"
"That’s what I said."
Robinson pushed out his lower lip and nodded, as if the answer satisfied him.
Landon would have pushed the issue further, but just then there was a loud rap on the door. He pushed the buzzer to unlock it, and Scott came into the room trailed by Fox and the prisoner.
Scott carried a pair of heavy metal chairs one-handed, his massive arm bulging under his tight black base layer. Fox was prodding a middle-aged Black man into the room.
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