Stolen

by Daniel Palmer

  Giovanni inhaled a breath that was loud with relief. He lay on the floor, panting, the proper color already returning to his skin and nails.

  I climbed off Giovanni, and the old lady backed away several paces, positioning herself between the front door and me.

  “Please give me a chance to get away,” I said to her. “I’m doing this to save a woman’s life. I’m not a bad person. Please.”

  I tried to imagine that my ski mask made me look like some sort of superhero, but suspected that I looked more like the devil.

  “Turn your life around, young man,” the old lady said.

  I thought I knew what she meant by that, but I wasn’t sure. I said a prayer, my second in a night, that I was right. The old lady vanished out the door as I made a dash for the cash register. I fumbled about with the buttons until I found the one that opened the drawer. I took a hundred fifty dollars—five twenties, five tens.

  Giovanni worked himself from his back onto his stomach, where he lay heaving in a puddle of wine. The red liquid pooled around his body like blood spilled from a grave wound.

  I went to him and knelt close to his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Are you okay?”

  Giovanni muttered something in Italian.

  I don’t speak Italian, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t say, “Thank you.”

  I retrieved the gun, which wasn’t too far away, and raced to the front door, half expecting to see the old lady standing in the middle of the street, screaming for help. I looked both ways, but the street was deserted. No cars. No pedestrians. Nobody. The old lady was gone.

  Turn your life around, she had said. I wondered if that meant she’d give me a chance to get away. I guess saving Giovanni’s life inspired her to believe that I could be redeemed.

  I listened for the sirens but didn’t hear any. I pulled off my ski mask, used it to wipe down the front door handle, and took off running. I got to Kent Street, no problem. I looked behind me, but Giovanni must have still been on the floor, wine-soaked and all, trying to regain his breath. Nobody came barging out the door in pursuit.

  I turned the corner and saw Ziggy parked where I expected. I pulled on the trunk, and it popped right open. I climbed inside, shaking off the last remnants of the adrenaline rush, feeling like my heart could burst from exertion. Reaching above me, I grabbed hold of a hook and pulled the trunk closed.

  Enveloped in darkness, I didn’t know how many minutes had passed before I heard the sound of police sirens, but they came, all right, seemingly from all directions. It wasn’t too long after that that I heard the squawking sound of a police radio. It was coming from directly outside the car where I was hiding.

  CHAPTER 24

  Life in fast-forward—that was what the next few moments felt like, anyway. Press the button on the remote, the one with the two sideways triangles, and watch everything zoom along, herky-jerky, quick and nonsensical until it’s over. Only this scenario zipped right along with me locked inside the trunk of a car, cocooned in absolute darkness. Radios crackled. Sirens wailed. Footsteps fell. I heard Ruby’s voice. It made me ache for this nightmare to be over, to return to our apartment on the other side of town, lie half naked on our futon, scratch Ginger’s belly, watch Design on a Dime, and quiz Ruby until I begged her go to bed.

  I sensed Ruby was standing alongside Ziggy’s trunk—with me stuffed inside it—because I could hear her engaging with the police. She asked questions: “What’s going on? Is everybody all right? Was anybody hurt?” She couldn’t have known if I was inside the trunk or not, but I heard her say, “Thank goodness.” She rapped her knuckles on Ziggy’s backside, but I didn’t rap back.

  “I hope you find him,” I heard her say.

  A door opened. Ziggy’s weight shifted. An engine fired up. The car lurched forward. The wheels turned. The car lurched some more. It jostled me about. We inched along. Eventually, I felt we’d traveled far enough from the police that I rapped my knuckles against the trunk, just to let Ruby know I was safe inside.

  The car stopped. I swallowed down a lump of dread. Had I signaled her too soon? Did someone hear me?

  Ziggy moved again, quicker this time, the wheels picking up speed.

  And we were gone.

  Not much happened after I climbed out of the trunk. Ruby and I hugged, we kissed, and we both got a little teary-eyed. Okay, a lot teary-eyed. We went up to the apartment, walking past the yellow caution tape that designated Rhonda Jennings’s home a crime scene. Back inside our apartment, I flopped down on the futon, wearing only my jeans. Ginger took up roost in my lap. Ruby stuffed the ski mask, green army jacket, and the white T-shirt I wore into a black plastic garbage bag.

  “We’ll have to get rid of these,” she said. She tied the bag after filling it with rubbish from the kitchen and the bathroom wastebaskets. “What are you going to do with the gun?”

  “We’ll drive out to Concord and toss it into the river,” I said. Ruby and I knew a secluded spot in the Great Meadows sanctuary, where we both liked to hike. It would be perfect place for getting rid of the gun unseen.

  Ruby returned to the living room and sat beside me on the futon. She rested her head on my shoulder, which in turn caused Ginger to rev up her purring. As a threesome, we were family, and the family was together once again. Everyone was safe.

  “I was so freaking scared, John. I don’t ever want to feel that scared again.”

  “Yeah, me neither. But I don’t think that’s going to happen,” I said.

  Ruby gave me a fractured look, one that recognized our predicament : her cancer, Rhonda Jennings’s death, Dr. Adams’s kidnapping, Giovanni, Uretsky, and his game. Until further notice, fear would be our norm, not the exception.

  “What do you think will happen now?” Ruby asked.

  “I think we’re going to hear from Uretsky,” I said.

  “Could he have been watching the liquor store?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”

  Could he have been the old woman in disguise? I kept that a private thought, though it seemed to me that Uretsky was the sort who would have enjoyed playing that kind of game.

  “Do you want to talk about what I said earlier?”

  I shook her off like a pitcher changing the sign.

  “I’ve been thinking about it more,” Ruby continued. “David might be involved.”

  “He’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  I shrugged. “It just doesn’t make sense,” I said.

  My body still felt all charged up from the robbery and getaway, so I took in a few deep breaths and expelled them slowly. Then I ran my hands back and forth through my short hair, feeling the sweat that still dampened my scalp.

  My sudden movement irritated Ginger. She meowed softly and dropped to the floor, silent. Ruby got up, scratched Ginger’s head, and went over to the laptop on the kitchen island.

  “How will you give Giovanni his money back?” she asked.

  “I’m just going to hand it to him,” I said. “I’ll say that some neighbor people heard about the robbery and collected some funds to help out.”

  “You don’t think he’ll recognize your voice?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. “Good point. Maybe you should give him the money,” I said.

  Ruby had her face in the laptop when she agreed. Then she said, “Boston.com has breaking news about the robbery.”

  “It’ll be on the morning news for sure,” I said.

  Ruby gasped. “John, they have video posted.”

  “Video?” I said, getting up off the futon to see for myself.

  The video, grainy and recorded from a fixed position—probably a camera mounted above the front door—showed me barging into the liquor store and training a gun on Giovanni. Ruby and I watched the baseball bat attack, the slip and fall, Giovanni choking on tobacco and gum, and my attempts to dislodge the object while the old woman struck me with her handbag. The he
adline read: BREAKING NEWS: SOMERVILLE GUNMAN SAVES LIQUOR STORE OWNER FROM CHOKING, THEN STEALS HIS MONEY.

  Ruby watched the video several times. “How did they get this up there so fast?”

  “The police must have given them permission.”

  “Would they do that?”

  “I don’t know, Ruby,” I said. “You watch all the same TV shows that I do. The cops can do what they want. I’m not worried. I never showed my face, and I didn’t leave any fingerprints behind.”

  My phone buzzed in my pants pocket. I took it out, holding it at arm’s length, as though it were a bomb. I knew who was calling.

  “Uretsky?” Ruby asked.

  I glanced down at the display and nodded. “Unless you know somebody else who can call us from 888-888-8888,” I said.

  I pressed the answer button on my phone, silencing the vibrations of the ring.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Well done, John. Congratulations. Very well done.”

  Uretsky.

  I felt a stir of sickness just hearing his voice.

  “This is over,” I said. “I did what you wanted. It’s over. Let Dr. Adams go.”

  “In part,” Uretsky said. “I e-mailed you a link. Open it.”

  Ruby stepped away from the computer to give me access. I opened my One World administrator Web page and sure enough saw an e-mail from Elliot Uretsky, with a time stamp of eight minutes ago. I clicked the link and was directed to a Web page that displayed a presumably live video feed of Dr. Adams still seated on a wooden chair. She seemed to be unconscious, but I could see her chest rise and fall with breath.

  A figure emerged from the shadows and stood behind Dr. Adams. This same figure came around to the front of Dr. Adams’s chair/prison and bent down to get face level with the camera. Ruby grabbed my arm when the face of a man wearing the same ski mask I wore during the robbery filled the screen.

  “Hello, John,” Uretsky said. He spoke in the same deep, monotone voice I had grown to despise. “Nice to chat with you in person. How do I look? Do you like my disguise? They were on sale, a two-for-one deal.”

  Ruby had said that I looked scary, but this time I witnessed for myself the horror of my appearance.

  “We’re like twinsies,” Uretsky said. He stuck his tongue out of the mouth hole of the ski mask and flicked it in and out rapidly, the way a lizard feels the air.

  “We’re nothing alike,” I said.

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” Uretsky said. “Now, let’s get down to business. You’ve done well. I kept up with your endeavors on my police band radio.”

  Ruby looked at me, and I could tell what she was thinking: David Clegg.

  “What about Dr. Adams?” I said.

  “I knocked her out,” Uretsky said. “Slipped a little narcotic into her water. After our chat, I’m going to give her a lift to a secluded spot I like. They’ll be no trace of me, and she’ll have no clue as to why she was taken.”

  “So that’s it,” I said. “You’ll leave us alone now.”

  Uretsky laughed.

  “No, John,” he said. “Far from it. You still haven’t won my game. You still have to prove that you’ve got what it takes to be a real criminal. But I am curious about one thing.”

  “I don’t have to answer your questions,” I said.

  “Did you think Giovanni was going to attack you?”

  “I said I don’t have to answer you.”

  Uretsky wagged a finger in front of the camera. “Uh-uh,” he said. “I make up the rules, and I can change the rules. Life isn’t fair that way. So you’ll answer my question, or you’ll watch this woman die. Got it?”

  The room warmed to the heat of a sauna. “I got it,” I said, swallowing hard.

  “Good. Glad we’ve cleared the air. So tell me, did you think Giovanni would attack you?”

  “I had no idea, but I didn’t rob him with a loaded gun.”

  “You got rid of the bullets?” Uretsky said, his surprised voice rising in pitch. “Very trusting of you, John. I wouldn’t have done that, but it’s interesting that when you entered into a life-threatening situation, you chose to leave yourself vulnerable.”

  “Is that what this was really about?” I asked. “Are you monitoring how I’ll behave under certain conditions?”

  “No, John. We’re playing a game,” Uretsky said. “It’s really quite fascinating to watch. You see, I knew Giovanni would attack you. In fact, I picked that store because he’s been robbed in the past and he always fights back. What would it have taken for you to keep the bullets in the gun? Would you have gone in armed had you known he was a rattlesnake and not to be messed with?”

  “I never would.”

  “Ah! Never say never.”

  I expected he’d say that. I decided to change the subject. “I’m going to track you down,” I said.

  “Remember my warning about involving the police. I’ll know if they’re looking for me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find you on my own,” I said. “And when I do, I’ll have no trouble keeping bullets in the gun.”

  Maybe I wouldn’t toss it in the river, after all.

  “Oh, I think you’ll be surprised at what you find,” he said.

  “What do you want from us? What do you want?” I tried to keep from shouting but had a hard time controlling my anger.

  “Easy, tiger,” Uretsky said. “You’ll know soon enough. But take some advice from me. Rest up. You’re going to need your strength.”

  “What the hell are you planning?”

  “Surprises. In two days you’ll know. Two days, my friend.”

  “I’m not your friend.”

  “No. You’re my parasite, living off my name. But if you insist on a hint of what’s coming your way, I’ll tell you this. The snake and lotus flower are gripped in Qetesh’s hands.”

  “What?”

  The screen went black.

  Ruby and I stared at the black rectangle a few moments. I was half expecting Uretsky to reemerge and yell, “Boo!” If he had, I would have jumped, that’s for sure. Thankfully for us, the rectangle stayed black.

  “You saved her, John,” Ruby said, rubbing her hand between my shoulder blades while she kissed my head. “You saved Dr. Adams’s life.”

  “We think,” I said.

  “No,” Ruby said. “I know it. He’s not going to kill her.”

  “Two days,” I said. “What do you think is going to happen in two days?”

  “I don’t know,” Ruby said. “I wish I did. What did he mean by the snake and lotus flower thing?”

  “Who did he say? Kesha?”

  “Isn’t she a pop star?”

  “It was something else,” I said. “It sounded like it began with a Q. Qatash or something.”

  Ruby launched a Web browser on the laptop and did a search for “Qatash,” “Lotus Flower,” and “Snake.” Only four results returned. If I had to guess, we were misspelling the most important word. Ruby did another search, this time for the words “Somerville,” “armed robbery,” and “choking.” The results page returned a bunch of links with five videos listed as a top hit. The videos were of my robbery.

  “How did these get up here?” Ruby asked.

  “There’s a button on the Boston.com video to share it to YouTube,” I said.

  “John, look at this,” Ruby said, indicating the screen. “The view counter says twenty-five thousand.”

  I groaned. “Twenty-five thousand views in less than an hour. Shit.” “What?” she asked.

  “Not only did I just commit a crime, but the video’s gone viral.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “About the video?”

  “No, not about the stupid video,” Ruby snapped at me. “Uretsky. Two days. The snake and the lotus flower. Quidditch, or whatever the hell he was saying.”

  “I’m going to find him,” I said. “I’m calling David Clegg, and I’m going to find him.”

  “But what if Clegg is wo
rking with Uretsky?” Ruby said.

  I kissed Ruby on the forehead, letting the feel of her skin warm my lips before letting go. “Then I’ll be that much closer to getting him,” I whispered.

  CHAPTER 25

  I waited in Ziggy while Ruby went inside Giovanni’s liquor store, carrying an envelope we had stuffed with three hundred dollars in cash. His money, plus what we could afford as a hardship gift. Ruby would say that she took up a collection from concerned local citizens. It was the morning after the robbery, but I measured time in the number of days before Uretsky would try to make me commit another crime. That would be a little less than two, assuming he started the clock after I robbed the store.

  The news was on the radio. I listened to yet another report on the strange kidnapping of Dr. Lisa Adams. Naturally, Ruby and I had been listening all morning. Adams didn’t know where she’d been taken, who took her, or what her kidnapper wanted. All she knew was that one moment she was tied to a chair, and the next she was back in her bedroom. There was no evidence of sexual assault. No physical assault, either, aside from several rope burns. Dr. Adams was free to get a lifetime of therapy for no other reason than she knew us. At least she was alive.

  We both had strength, but it was like a faucet—off and on. One moment we’d be fine; the next one of us would break down. We’d think about Rhonda. We’d think about what happened to Dr. Adams. We’d feel guilty and trapped, but we also knew we had to carry on. We didn’t see an alternative.

  I watched through the front window as Ruby talked to Giovanni. He talked back to her, his hands contributing equally to their conversation. I saw him shooing her away, not angrily. He kept bowing his body, waving with his hands, gestures that implied “Thank you, but no thank you.” Ruby tried twice more to give him the envelope, but each time Giovanni shook his head.

  Now, Ruby has one of the best puppy dog looks going. I swear that look is like a siren’s song when she wants it to be. So I’m pretty sure she flashed Giovanni one of her finest, because he touched his hand to his heart and then put both hands on her shoulders. He smiled—a resigned-looking grin—made several successive head nods, and motioned for the envelope. Ruby gave it to him, waved good-bye, and headed for the front door.