by Karen Rose
His declaration was met with silence. Dead silence. Finally, Lilah spoke. ‘Who is this?’ she asked quietly.
He smiled. It was her tell, going all quiet when she was one breath away from panic. She knew exactly who she was talking to. She was just stalling for time. ‘If you want to see them again, you’ll do exactly as I say.’
‘Gage,’ Lilah whispered. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I’m losing patience with you. If you want to see your nieces alive, you will go to your online bank account and move fifty thousand dollars into their grandmother’s account. I’ll take it from there. When I’m satisfied that I have the money in my possession, I will tell you where to find the girls. Do you understand me?’
Another stretch of silence. ‘Where is Eunice? She was with the girls.’
‘She’s alive. The girls won’t be if you don’t obey. If you tell anyone, I will kill them. And know that if they die, it’s on your head.’
‘How . . .’ An audible swallow. ‘How do I know they’re still alive?’
He knew she’d ask. He already had a separate website loaded on his phone’s browser that would allow him to spoof a text, again from his mother’s phone number as the sender. He attached the photo he’d taken of the sleeping girls and hit SEND.
He knew the moment Lilah received it. She uttered a hoarse cry followed by a sob. Several shuddering breaths. ‘You . . . sonofabitch. You tied them up. They’re just little girls. You’re a monster.’
‘You have one hour. Fifty thousand. Now, go.’
He hung up, satisfied that she’d honor the demand. He really needed three or four times that amount, but he’d have to make do. Live simply. Quit using.
Giving up coke would save a bucket of bucks right there.
He choked on the sharp suck of air that seemed to stab his lungs from the inside out. Goddammit. Breathe in, Gage.
He closed his eyes. Not Gage anymore. Not Gage ever again. I’m Ronald. Ronald Lassiter.
Breathe out, Ronald. Think about something else. Think about what you’ll do next.
Because Lilah would give him the money. She’d be too scared not to.
Once she had, he’d stash it in the offshore account he’d set up years before to hide assets from Valerie. Getting into his mother’s accounts would not be a problem because, like her PIN numbers, she never changed her password. It was always his father’s name with the years he was born and had died.
He’d have to open another account in Ronald Lassiter’s name and transfer it all. And then he’d get the hell out of the country and hightail it somewhere else. Somewhere warm and sunny.
He was thinking Mexico. From there, he’d make his way into Nicaragua, which had no extradition treaties with the U.S. His Spanish wasn’t too bad. And coke is probably cheaper there. Wouldn’t have to completely quit. Just cut back. Use recreationally. You’ve done it before.
And if he needed a job, there were always the cartels.
He had one more call to make. He dialed Denny directly, not bothering with the spoofing site.
‘I thought I told you not to call me anymore,’ Denny stated, bypassing any greeting.
Ma hasn’t called him yet. Nor had he seen the news. If either had happened, Denny would have been too furious to speak coherently, but he didn’t sound angry at all. ‘I just wanted you to know that I’m leaving town later tonight. I’ve got a ride that leaves after sundown.’
‘How very Wyatt Earp of you,’ Denny said sarcastically. ‘Goodbye, Gage.’
‘Just a minute,’ Gage snapped. ‘I just wanted to be sure you know that if I see any cops sniffing around my place before sundown, the deal is off.’
‘What deal?’
‘The deal that I stay away from your wife and kids.’
Denny huffed like a bull. ‘Don’t you dare touch them.’
‘I won’t. Not unless you break your end of the deal. At any time. Now or in the future.’
‘I said that I wouldn’t.’
‘And I want you to remember that, little brother. You say one word about me and everything you are, everything you own, and everyone you love will unravel before your eyes.’
Denny sighed wearily. ‘Fine, fine. I hear you, Gage. I hear you and I fucking tremble. Is that why you called?’
It didn’t sound like Denny was actually trembling, but the resignation in his voice would have to be enough. ‘It’ll do, little brother. It’ll do.’
Gage hung up and went over to the bed. Janie was still snuffling softly in her sleep, but he could tell Jazzie was awake even though she was pretending to be asleep. He’d seen her flinch a few times during his conversation with Lilah. ‘You might as well open your eyes,’ he said caustically. ‘I know you’re awake.’ He fumbled with the knot he’d tied in the soft rope he’d bound them with, trying to loosen it one-handed. He finally managed it, then removed her gag. He left the bonds on Janie in case she woke up. ‘Get up and help me.’
Cautiously Jazzie got up and stood next to the bed, as far away from him as she could. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the blood. ‘W-what h-happened to you?’ she whispered.
‘None of your business.’
She was trembling so hard he could see it from across the room. ‘Is T-Taylor d-dead?’
‘Yeah,’ he lied flatly. ‘Sorry, kid. Get over here and help me.’ He threw a threatening look at Janie. ‘Now.’
Jazzie took stumbling steps, clearly willing her feet to move. Damn, the kid had guts. Too bad she wasn’t his.
He sank into the chair. ‘Help me take off my shirt. I need to clean the wound so that I can stitch it.’
Her expression grew even more horrified. ‘You m-mean I have to t-touch it?’
He might have laughed if he didn’t hurt so damn much. ‘Yeah. This ain’t no picnic for me either, kid. Now do it!’
She jumped, closed her eyes, pursed her lips, then deliberately opened her eyes and dropped her chin so that she looked only at the buttons. Her skinny, trembling fingers loosened them one at a time. She stepped back when she was finished, staring at the blood-soaked shirt he’d taken from the clothesline to put pressure on the wound.
She was cringing. ‘It’s bloody.’
‘That’s because I got shot,’ he snapped. ‘You’re supposed to be smart. Now pull it off. Gently!’ he hissed when her shaking hands yanked at the balled-up shirt. He’d nearly passed out when he’d pressed it to the wound. He hadn’t expected taking it off to be even worse, but it was.
Jazzie gagged when she saw his shoulder.
Again, he couldn’t blame her. He clenched and flexed his fingers. At least there was no nerve damage. But the bullet was still in there.
Shit, damn, fuck. This was going to be really bad. ‘In the drawer. Get the bottle.’ He’d grabbed the whiskey when he’d raided Val’s liquor cabinet after he’d killed her. He didn’t actually like whiskey, so he’d drunk everything else first and had even bought more of what he liked, leaving the whiskey largely untouched. There should still be enough to get him hammered so he could get the fucking bullet out.
Jazzie obeyed, still shaking so hard that she looked like a walking marionette. The amber liquid sloshed in the bottle when she brought it back to him. He took a few healthy swigs, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘Okay. Here is what you’re gonna do. Are you listening?’
She nodded like a timid mouse, arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she was going to throw up.
‘You better not hurl, kid, because you’ll be cleaning it up. Yours and mine.’ Because he was having to grit his teeth against the nausea as it was. He dug in his pocket for his blade and she whimpered when she saw it. ‘Shut up,’ he snarled. ‘I’m not going to use this on you. Not if you shut the fuck up. I’ve got to get this bullet out of my arm
. While I’m doing that, you’re going to be my nurse. Got it? You’re going to fold those towels up and press them against the wound to soak up the blood.’
He only hoped he had enough towels.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
‘And Jazzie?’ He stared into her terrified eyes. ‘Do not try anything. I will do what I need to do to get away from here alive. Do you understand me?’
A flash of fury cut through her fear. ‘Yeah,’ she whispered, and he was impressed that she could imbue one little word with so much hate.
‘Good. Now go into the bathroom and find my shaving kit.’ His old man’s shaving kit was the one thing he’d actually kept during the past three years living on his own. She obeyed silently, returning to hand him the kit with an angry set to her mouth.
‘Good for you, kid. Keep that piss and vinegar. It’ll help you when everything gets real.’
Although this here was about as real as it got, he supposed. Still, it wasn’t bad advice for a guy to give a kid who wasn’t even his. He took another few swigs of whiskey to calm the twitching in his hands, then dug out a little pre-packaged sewing kit, an amenity from a hotel stay a million years ago. In another life.
He looked at his arm and cringed. Digging out that fucking bullet was going to fucking hurt. He wasn’t drunk enough for this yet.
Stalling for time – yeah, he was man enough to admit it – he checked Eunice’s bank account on his phone and a grim smile twisted his lips. Lilah had moved fifty grand into it. Promptly. So promptly that he realized he should have asked for more.
He eyed the kid. She was watching him like he was a snake, poised to strike. ‘I’m going to make another phone call. I’m counting on you continuing to behave intelligently. You will say nothing that I do not tell you to say. Got it?’
She nodded jerkily, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Y-y-yeah.’
‘Not that I really need to worry,’ he taunted, twisting the metaphorical blade while holding the real one with a steadiness that surprised him. Huh. Whiskey really works. He’d have to keep that in mind. ‘Before you got out the second “h-h” in “h-h-h-help”, I’d have more than enough time to hang up.’
She flinched. ‘I . . . hate you.’ She’d expelled the word on a harsh breath, and he smiled at her.
‘That’s a good technique, kid. You should remember that. Now keep your trap shut or Janie’s face won’t be so pretty anymore.’ He had no intention of touching Janie with the knife or anything else, but the threat had an immediate effect on Jazzie.
She went so white that he thought she’d pass out. ‘Y-y-you’re a v-very bad man.’
‘And don’t you forget it, kid,’ he said soberly, a surprise considering how much whiskey he’d just chugged.
Using Ma’s spoofed number, he called Lilah again.
She picked up before the first ring ended. ‘Eunice?’ she asked tentatively.
‘No,’ Gage said.
A sob. ‘I gave you what you wanted. I transferred the money to Eunice’s account.’
‘And I’m grateful,’ he said mildly.
‘So tell me where I can find them. You promised.’
‘Oh, I will. But not just yet. The girls are okay. Not terribly happy at the moment,’ he said, looking Jazzie in the eye, ‘but okay. If you want them to stay okay, you’ll make another deposit into my ma’s account. Make this one an even hundred.’
Another gasp. ‘A hundred thousand dollars! I don’t have that much.’
‘I think you do. You’re a fuckin’ spinster whose idea of fun is a jog around the block.’ He realized that fuckin’ and spinster were probably oxymoronic, but he’d blame that on the whiskey too.
‘The police are looking for—’
‘You called them?’ Gage snapped.
‘No!’ Lilah cried. ‘You told me not to so I didn’t. I’ve done what you said to do. Everything. I didn’t have to say a word to them. They know that you were the shooter today. Your face is all over the news. You won’t—’
Gage forced his body to relax. He believed her. She hadn’t told. Besides even if she had, they didn’t know where to find him. Only Denny did and he would not risk his family’s safety. He woudn’t tell. So I’m okay. For now anyway. ‘Please tell me you’re not about to say that I won’t get away with this,’ he interrupted, making his tone bored. ‘Yeah, the cops are hunting me. Which means I have absolutely nothing to lose.’ He let the words hang, satisfied when she exhaled in defeat.
‘Okay. But this is all I have and that’s the honest truth.’
‘Okay,’ he said agreeably. It might be all she had in a checking account, but she had more. It might be tied up in stocks or property, but it was there somewhere. ‘Five minutes. Or . . . this.’
He snapped a photo of his knife at the sleeping Janie’s throat, and texted it, still spoofing his ma’s phone number. Lilah’s strangled cry was music to his ears.
‘You bastard. You really are a monster.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. You forgot “evil”,’ he deadpanned. ‘Five minutes, Lilah.’ He hung up and put the phone securely back in his pocket, because Jazzie was watching it like a hawk. She’s planning her escape. Damn, the kid had guts.
He was relieved he wasn’t going to have to kill her.
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 6.15 P.M.
The ER waiting room was so tensely quiet that Ford found himself fidgeting in his chair like a kid in church. Once he’d been officially released from the ER, almost everyone had gone to the OR waiting room to sit with Stevie and Tanner. His mother, Maggie and Joseph stayed with him and Taylor in the ER, waiting for JD to arrive.
Maggie had officially identified Eunice Jarvis and the hospital had called Lilah to inform her. They’d wanted to call Denny Jarvis, the younger of her two sons, but Joseph asked them to hold off on that because nobody knew what Denny’s role was in all this. It had pained Joseph to do so, especially after the doctor told him that Eunice’s prognosis was not good at all, but the lives of two girls might lie in the balance.
Taylor was slouched in the chair beside Ford, hands folded over her stomach, her eyes closed. She needed some rest, but Ford knew better than to hope she was asleep. Her body practically vibrated even though she sat statue-still.
Ford got up and walked to the open doorway of the waiting room, checking the hallway once again. No Lilah. He turned back to find his mother watching him with concern, and it made him surly. Because he knew she looked at him that way often, ever since he’d been abducted over a year and a half before. It made him feel suffocated. Like she was waiting for him to fall so that she could bandage him up.
She didn’t mean to, and under the circumstances, she was probably entitled. Still, it made him itch for some space. Some room to breathe.
Shit. Taylor’s panic attacks were apparently catching. He forced his mind elsewhere. ‘Who’s got Cordelia?’ he asked.
‘I dropped her off with Lucy,’ Maggie answered. ‘She was going to take all the kids to the aquarium. We, uh, didn’t tell Cordy about Clay. They wouldn’t have let her in the waiting room and it seemed cruel to make her suffer without Stevie.’
‘That makes sense,’ Ford said, his chest hurting for the little girl. Cordelia had been through so damn much. Clay has to be okay, God. You can’t take him away from that child. He closed his eyes, another thought hitting him hard. ‘Stevie’s pregnant.’
Maggie and Daphne shared a sigh. ‘We know,’ Daphne said. ‘We were with her when Joseph told her about the shooting. The first thing she did was spread her hand over her stomach and say “Not again.”’
Because Stevie’s first husband had been shot and killed while she’d been pregnant with Cordelia.
‘It’s not going to be an issue, because Clay will be okay,’ Daphne said firmly. But her lips q
uivered, ruining all that wonderful, if not bogus, optimism.
Ford kissed his mother’s cheek, then returned to sit next to Taylor. He didn’t ask her how she was, because he hated it when people did that to him. So he just held her hand, unsurprised when she squeezed so hard that a few bones audibly popped.
The silence was broken by the trill of a cell phone – his mother’s. She frowned at the screen for a moment. ‘I have to take this,’ she said. ‘It’s work,’ she added when both he and Taylor tensed. She got up and moved to the window, where the signal was better, her quiet murmur nearly inaudible. She obviously didn’t want them to listen, so Ford attempted to distract himself and Taylor.
‘Clay will be okay, y’know.’ Ford repeated his mother’s words, understanding that he needed to say them as much as Taylor needed to hear them.
She opened her eyes and met his. ‘He knew we’d be there,’ she said quietly.
Ford frowned, confused. ‘Who? Clay?’
‘No. The shooter. Who may or may not have been Jazzie’s father.’
Joseph looked up from his laptop to give Taylor his attention. ‘It was definitely Gage Jarvis. Detective Rivera got the security tapes from area businesses and he’s positively ID’d Jarvis fleeing the scene.’
‘Poor Jazzie,’ Taylor said softly. ‘I was kind of hoping it wasn’t her dad, you know?’
Joseph’s smile was kind. ‘Yeah, I get that. By the way, Gage is hurt pretty badly. The footage showed that you got him in the right arm. He was bleeding a lot.’
‘Good,’ she said fiercely. ‘He knew we’d be there meeting Lilah and Jazzie. He opened fire as soon as Lilah started talking to us.’ She drew a breath. ‘He was shooting at me. He shot Ford and Clay because they were blocking his line of fire.’ The look she gave Joseph was self-deprecating. ‘But you’ve already figured all this out.’
‘That Gage knew you were coming, yes,’ Joseph said. ‘But keep going.’
‘Well, he knew we’d be there, and when, but I don’t think he knew what I looked like. He had to wait until Lilah spoke to us. If he’d been targeting Jazzie, he wouldn’t have shot until she arrived, because once he started shooting, he’d have shown his hand and Jazzie would have been whisked away. Not only did he know we were coming, I think he knew Jazzie wasn’t.’ She grimaced. ‘Because maybe he’s already got her.’