by Meg Gardiner
‘‘Where are you going with this, Patsy?’’
Her cheeks were crimson. She tried to look at me but her eyes kept clicking off to one side.
‘‘I couldn’t see the harm.’’ She blinked and made a severe effort to focus on me. ‘‘She was so concerned. Patrick asked me not to tell anyone where he was going, but Sinsa asked. And I just couldn’t see the harm in telling her.’’
My mouth felt dry. ‘‘But?’’
Her eyes shimmered. ‘‘But then she left so suddenly. And I got worried, thinking maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.’’
From the entryway Jesse called, ‘‘Are you coming down?’’
She cringed. ‘‘No. He can’t see me like this.’’
‘‘We’re staying here,’’ I called back.
I heard him say, ‘‘Fuck it.’’ A minute later footsteps stammered up the stairs. Turning, I saw Keith helping him. Jesse had one arm slung over Keith’s shoulder and the other gripping the banister, fighting upward as though working a crazy set of parallel bars. He was biting his lower lip with the effort, and looking fully pissed off. He caught my eye, and then his gaze stretched past me to the spangled bedroom walls. Astonishment spread across his face.
They reached the top of the stairs and Keith stopped, exhausted. He looked weirdly buoyed that his son had made the climb on foot, until Jesse said, ‘‘Get the chair.’’
Keith’s face fell. But though Jesse could stand up, without his braces and crutches walking simply didn’t work. He grabbed hold of a hallway table for balance.
‘‘Please,’’ he said.
Looking crushed, Keith lumbered back down the stairs. Jesse gaped at the display in the bedroom, mystified. And pained by the sight of Patsy on the floor.
‘‘Mom.’’
Her head lolled back, and she blinked. ‘‘Jess?’’ Hand to her chest.
‘‘Why did you do all this?’’ he said.
Smoothing her hair, she lurched to her feet. ‘‘I . . .’’
She tottered. Putting out an arm, she aimed for the bed and sat back down. Keith brought the wheelchair up to the landing. Jesse took it and wheeled into the bedroom.
I drew his eye. ‘‘Sinsa stopped by, looking for P.J.’’
Patsy turned her head, hiding her face from him. Her voice was thin. ‘‘After she left, I called him to say that I had . . . that she knew where he was. He got upset.’’ Her hands curled into fists. ‘‘And while we were talking, people came in where he was. I heard noise, and a fight.’’
Jesse put a hand on her arm.
She resisted his touch, looking at the floor. ‘‘They were hitting him. I heard them hitting him.’’ She looked up at me. ‘‘And then they talked about you. They said Evan should stay tuned.’’
For a moment her face was accusatory. I felt sick to my stomach. But she crumbled.
‘‘How was I supposed to know?’’ Her shoulders jerked. She began crying.
Jesse looked at me, and straight on through. I could sense his mind working behind his eyes. He had paled.
Patsy gripped his arms. ‘‘You have to help him.’’
He didn’t react.
‘‘Jess.’’ She shook him. ‘‘Patrick can’t help himself. He’s not strong like you.’’
My cell phone rang. I felt no surprise. I knew what was coming, and from the dead chill in his eyes so did Jesse. I answered the call and heard a voice I had hoped was gone for good.
‘‘Some unfinished business.’’
I closed my eyes. ‘‘Hello, Toby.’’
36
‘‘The money. You never delivered, so now there’s a late fee,’’ Toby said.
‘‘How much?’’
‘‘Principal, plus interest. Also my loss of income over the past week, plus a penalty for the fucking inconvenience. Round it up to fifty thousand.’’
‘‘Let me speak to P.J.,’’ I said.
‘‘Don’t interrupt me. You bring it in cash, tonight, if you want to see Junior here alive again.’’
I didn’t plan to give him a dime. I had no money to give. But I thought I’d better make it realistic.
‘‘I’ll go forty,’’ I said. ‘‘Now put him on the phone.’’
He breathed into the receiver. ‘‘I know you have fifty.’’
As I suspected: Sinsa had told him I had that much. The better to screw you with, my dear. She was setting me up in every way possible. Telling him I had an unobtainable amount.
‘‘Put P.J. on the phone,’’ I said.
The sound went muffled, as if he’d put his hand over the receiver. ‘‘Bring him here.’’ A second later I heard P.J.’s frightened voice.
‘‘Hello?’’
‘‘It’s Evan. Just answer yes or no. Do you know where you are?’’
‘‘Not really.’’
‘‘Are you on Toby’s boat?’’
‘‘Guess it’s his.’’
‘‘Are you in the harbor?’’
‘‘No idea.’’
I heard a clattering sound on his end, as though he had dropped the phone. His voice rose, and he sounded like he was struggling. ‘‘Ow, shit, stop, what are you doing?’’
The sounds increased. He screamed out a string of invective. I clenched my hands. He shouted, ‘‘Jesus, man, why’d you do that?’’
More clatter, and he came back on, breathing hard. ‘‘They shot me up.’’
Shot . . . ‘‘With what, P.J.?’’
‘‘A needle. A fucking needle. Shit, man, it’s bleeding.’’
Toby came back on the line. ‘‘That will just calm him down. Yeah, he’s already looking happy.’’
‘‘What did you give him?’’
‘‘His first hit. The second will put him under. A third will turn his lights out for good.’’
I put a hand against my belly.
‘‘But you won’t let it get to that stage. Because you’ll bring the money. And you’ll do it fucking fast, if you want to know what I just gave him.’’
Heroin, probably—but Toby may have thrown something else into the mix.
‘‘You get it together,’’ he said. ‘‘All fifty thousand. I have to replace Avalon’s guitar player, find a dude willing to wear a fucking leisure suit, which isn’t easy. I’ll call back and tell you where.’’
‘‘I—’’
‘‘And no cops. I even sniff a badge, Junior gets a straight shot to nirvana.’’
I looked at Jesse. He was tight as a drum.
‘‘Oh, and one last thing,’’ Toby said. ‘‘In case you’d be just as happy to have him float off to his cloud. I don’t think you want his friend to.’’
‘‘What friend?’’
‘‘Hang on. What’s your name, baby?’’ More muffled noise. ‘‘Devi Goldman.’’
Jesse and I stared at each other. Patsy pulled herself to her feet, using him for balance.
‘‘You heard?’’ she said. ‘‘They’re holding Patrick. You have to get him back.’’
His face was icy. He nodded to me. ‘‘Call Lily Rodriguez. I’ll call Lieutenant Rome.’’
Patsy dug her nails into his shoulder. ‘‘You can’t. They told me no police.’’
He grabbed her wrists. ‘‘We need the police. We can’t help P.J. by ourselves.’’
‘‘Don’t tell me that. I can’t hear that.’’
She fought him. He held her hard in his grip. But then it seemed that her internal mechanisms slipped a cog and all the springs blew. She stopped fighting and flopped down on the edge of the bed, motionless, vacant to the point of incoherence. Keith hung in the doorway. I looked at Jesse.
‘‘Sinsa gave them P.J., in order to get me. She knows there’s no money. She wants them to take me instead,’’ I said.
‘‘Them,’’ he said.
The nausea swelled again, a sickening wave. ‘‘Toby isn’t alone. Somebody else brought P.J. to the phone.’’
Neither of us said it. Murphy.
Simultaneou
sly we took our phones and dialed the cops.
The living room was a hive of activity, with deputies, Lily, and Gary Zelinski all buzzing around, on phones and radios, coordinating a search with the Santa Barbara police, the Highway Patrol, Harbor Patrol, and the coast guard.
We heard their theories. P.J. and Devi must be in the Santa Barbara area, considering they’d been taken only a couple of hours earlier and the fact that Toby had contacted me via a cell phone. He hadn’t used a ship-to-shore radio.
Lily stood in her boxer’s stance, feet spread. ‘‘He’ll be close to shore too. Doubt he’s out very far in the channel, unless whoever grabbed them had a speed-boat.’’
Jesse hung up his phone. He had just finished telling Lavonne about Devi.
‘‘How is she?’’ I said.
‘‘Tough. Scared to death.’’
Patsy sat on the sofa holding a tiger-print throw pillow. ‘‘Why don’t we pay them? Can’t you all arrange the money? If it would get Patrick back. Jesse?’’
She looked at him, her eyes pleading.
‘‘Mom, I don’t have fifty thousand dollars in cash,’’ he said.
Patsy curled over the pillow. Keith sat down beside her and set an arm on her back.
Jesse said, ‘‘Dad, maybe you could take Mom in the other room to lie down.’’
Keith seemed to sense that Jesse wanted to discuss worse things with the detectives. It looked as though the earth had eroded from beneath him. He took Patsy’s elbow and stood her up, leading her to the family room.
Jesse turned to Lily. ‘‘They’re going to kill my brother.’’
She shook her head. ‘‘Toby Price isn’t a killer. That’s simply off the chart for him.’’
‘‘But not for Murphy Ming.’’
She didn’t disagree.
I said, ‘‘This is not a kidnapping for ransom. This is a setup to get rid of me and P.J.’’
Jesse nodded.
‘‘And I doubt that this is Sinsa’s final gambit,’’ I said.
‘‘What do you mean?’’
‘‘If I show up at a rendezvous, Murphy, or Shaun, will kill me along with P.J. If I don’t show up, or show up without the fifty thousand, they kill P.J. right then and come after me later. Any money drop will be an ambush.’’
Lily blew air through pursed lips. ‘‘You’re not going to make any money drop. Don’t worry about that.’’
Jesse put his hands up. ‘‘Of course she isn’t. Jesus Christ. The point is, we have to find P.J. before the drop time. That’s our only chance.’’
‘‘We have good information. Water location. Time window. Gary’s already contacted the Harbor Patrol and the coast guard.’’
‘‘I can’t sit still. I have to go look for him.’’
‘‘No,’’ Lily said.
‘‘You can’t keep me here. What are you going to do, arrest me?’’
My phone rang.
Toby sounded smooth. ‘‘Put the money in a backpack. Catch the twenty-two bus at the downtown station. Leave the pack under the next-to-last seat, and get off at the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, ten o’clock. Can you handle that?’’
‘‘I don’t drop the money until I know P.J. is free.’’
‘‘He’ll be waiting outside the museum.’’
‘‘Unhurt.’’
‘‘He has a tendency to injure himself. No promises.’’
Toby’s voice wandered away from the receiver. I was unprepared to hear Murphy come on the line.
‘‘Just thought you should know, your little friend here is more of a man than you realized. He’s made a manly choice. Here, let him tell you.’’
Snuffling sounds, and P.J. came on. ‘‘For fucksake, help me. He’s got Devi tied up. He says he’s going to shove a whiskey bottle into her until it breaks off, unless I let him do it to me instead—’’
The phone was torn out of his hand. Then there were sounds of a struggle, and P.J.’s voice shearing into incoherence. Toby came on the line.
‘‘Not yet, Murphy.’’ He was laughing. ‘‘He’s just jerking your chain right now, but boys will be boys. However, you get the money to me, and Junior here might come away intact. Hope you’re getting it in order. We’ll see you in two hours.’’
I stared blankly at the walls. ‘‘Don’t hurt them.’’
Toby’s voice shifted down a gear. ‘‘Murphy can’t wait. He has a crush on you.’’
My skin wanted to slough off. ‘‘Murphy can eat shit and die.’’
Toby laughed. ‘‘See you at ten.’’
He broke the connection.
Lily clicked off the tape recorder, pulled out the earpiece, and nodded at Zelinski. I heard them talking about cell phone coverage, triangulation, and service areas, estimating where the call had come from.
She put a hand against my back. ‘‘Good job.’’
My limbs felt like the strings had been loosened. I sat down on the couch. Their voices became a buzz. After a few seconds I felt Jesse’s hand on mine. His face was indecipherable.
‘‘Murphy,’’ I said.
I felt weak and frightened. Jesse pivoted onto the couch and pulled me into his arms. He held my head against his shoulder. I unwound against him.
He held me, comforting me as though I were the one suffering, but it was his brother whose life was on the line. And I knew he didn’t plan to let P.J. come home in a body bag. If he sat here while P.J. died, he would end up turning his gun on himself. Pledge or no pledge. But he wouldn’t let me put myself in danger. He was going to do it himself. If that meant he sacrificed himself for P.J., that was what he’d do.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
Lily and Zelinski continued conferring, bringing in the deputy, calling their watch commander. Jesse kissed my forehead. He let go of me, saying, ‘‘Keep Mom and Dad calmed down if you can. I’ll be back.’’
I stood up and followed him. ‘‘No.’’
At the step up to the entryway he wheelied and held his hand out. I didn’t think twice; I gave him a lift.
Lily turned around. ‘‘Where do you think you’re going?’’
‘‘Murphy isn’t going to let Toby overdose P.J.,’’ Jesse said. ‘‘He’ll want him coherent enough to suffer. He’s going to rape him, possibly to death.’’
Lily said nothing.
‘‘We don’t have much time. Murphy’s going to sodomize him. Then Toby’s going to shoot him up. He’ll die. You can’t negotiate with them, or plead for more time. Our only chance is to find him before that happens.’’
She glared at him.
‘‘You know I’m right,’’ he said.
He looked at me. ‘‘Get P.J. a jacket and a warm shirt from upstairs, would you? It’s a cold night and he may need them.’’
I was upstairs rooting through P.J.’s clothes when Keith stuck his head around the corner. His face was drawn.
‘‘I overheard you talking with the detectives about a drug overdose,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s probably heroin. If they injected him, it’s likely to be an opiate of some kind.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
He held out a packet of pills. ‘‘Naltrexone. It’s an alcohol antagonist. It’ll also reverse an opiate overdose.’’
I took them, frowning.
‘‘They were prescribed to P.J.’’ He looked at the floor. ‘‘He had inpatient treatment a couple of years ago. These were for aftercare, to help him maintain. They’re left over.’’
‘‘He never took them?’’ I said.
‘‘Give them to the detectives, or whatever. Just get them to P.J.’’ He pressed them into my hand. ‘‘But don’t tell Jesse. He doesn’t know any were left. He’d probably think all the money was wasted.’’
Clang, like an anvil hitting the floor between us, I knew that Jesse must have paid for P.J.’s alcohol detox. And P.J. had gone straight back to drinking and getting high. No wonder Jesse was so disappointed in him, and searching for a way to get P.J. to own up
.
‘‘I’m not keeping anything from Jesse. He’s going to try to get P.J. out of this.’’ I put the packet in my pocket. ‘‘How much would he need?’’
‘‘Stuff them down his throat.’’
I turned, and he said, ‘‘I know you think she’s a crackpot.’’
Across the hall I could see the glint of the shrine. His gaze followed mine.
‘‘That room, the trophies . . . The boys mean more to Patsy than anything in the world. She would never hurt them. She didn’t mean for this to happen to P.J. If they . . . if he . . . It’ll kill her.’’
I had no reply. His eyes broke from mine.
I rushed down the stairs. Jesse was waiting. I handed him P.J.’s things and he opened the door.
There stood Marc.
His hand was out, ready to ring the bell. He and Jesse stared at each other for a moment before Jesse let him in.
‘‘I forgot to give Evan her house key. When I came back Lieutenant Rome told me what was going on,’’ he said. ‘‘I couldn’t leave. Murphy wanting payback, that’s on me. Tell me what you need me to do.’’
Jesse hesitated only a second. ‘‘Let’s get the hell out of this house.’’
Jesse unrolled a U.S. Geological Survey map of the coastline on his kitchen table. He put his finger on the Goleta neighborhood where Devi Goldman lived.
‘‘Two hours ago they grabbed P.J. and Devi here,’’ he said. ‘‘Half an hour ago P.J. told Evan he was on Toby Price’s sailboat. Which gives us a range . . .’’
He spread his hands, tracing the coastline. ‘‘Could be anywhere in a ninety-mile radius. Could be all the way up in Arroyo Grande, or in the harbor down in Port Hueneme. Shit.’’
Marc rubbed a thumb across his lips. ‘‘So where do we concentrate?’’
‘‘To collect the money, they have to come ashore. That means Toby either has a skiff that can run in to the beach, or he’s going to moor the sailboat.’’
I leaned on the table. ‘‘The day I was on the sailboat, I didn’t see a skiff tied to it.’’
Jesse stabbed his finger at the map. ‘‘Oil company piers. Here, here . . . maybe five or six possibilities.’’
I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘‘They’re spread out, from Ventura County all the way up to Point Arguello.’’
Marc looked at his watch. It was a diver’s watch with a luminous blue dial. ‘‘It’s eight thirty. Can we cover all of them in an hour and a half?’’