Her cell phone, lying on the glass-topped coffee table, rang and vibrated. Harvey picked it up and handed it to her.
“Deep breath.”
She nodded and pushed the speaker button.
“Hello?”
“You got the money?”
“Yes.” Her heart hammered.
“Put it in a small backpack. There’s a bench near a light post on Union Street, near the used bookstore.”
Abby frowned and looked at Harvey. He nodded. She ought to have known he’d be familiar with every bookstore in Portland.
“All right, I’ll find it.”
“You go alone, and no cops, you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
Harvey was already whispering instructions in Tony Winfield’s ear. Tony and Jimmy hurried into the entry, and she heard the front door open.
“Should I go right now?” Abby asked. Her voice shook, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“Not yet,” the man replied. “Be there at 2:45. Sit on the bench for two minutes, then put the backpack underneath it and leave.”
Startled, Abby looked to Harvey. He made the stretch-it-out signal, pulling air like taffy between his hands.
“Okay. But. . .what if someone’s sitting there?”
“Wait until they go, then do it. We’ll be watching.”
“Can I talk to Peter again?”
Nothing.
“We lost him,” Emily said.
Abby inhaled and blinked back tears. “I don’t guess you know where they are?”
Paul Trudeau shook his head. “Somewhere within a five-mile radius.”
“They’re probably on the peninsula,” Harvey said. “Maybe not too far from the bookstore.”
Abby wondered if that meant Peter was that close, too. “So, what now?”
“I’ll get half a dozen detectives in place early. Tony and Jimmy are already headed to Union Street. They’ll scout out places where our people can wait without looking suspicious. We’ll add more cops later, at intervals, in case they’re watching constantly. We’ve got more than four hours to get everyone in position. When Debbie Higgins walks to that bench with the backpack, I’ll be nearby, and the others will be within sight. We won’t let whoever retrieves the ransom out of our sight, Abby.”
“They said no cops.”
“Yes, they did.” Harvey gazed at her, his ultra-blue eyes sober. “You know we can’t go along with that.”
She supposed not, but what if their presence put Peter in worse danger? She wouldn’t insult Harvey by suggesting it, but her stomach roiled.
“What happens after the woman puts the backpack under the bench and leaves?” she asked.
“She’ll take your car to get there, and afterward she’ll walk back to it, get in it, and drive back here. Then we wait for another call.”
She eyed him anxiously. “Will Eddie be there, at the drop?”
“Yeah. I’ll call him around one. Let’s let him get a couple hours of sleep.”
She sighed. “I guess you’ve thought of everything.”
Harvey’s mouth skewed. “I hope so.”
*****
Harvey paced Peter’s study. These waiting periods were the worst. He’d insisted that Abby try to rest, but he knew she wouldn’t be sleeping. He paused before a framed print and studied it. It was a floorplan of a house. An old house, he guessed, but not this one. It had a kitchen and a summer kitchen, and a parlor with two bedrooms off it. A very old house. Harvey squinted at the fine script in the lower right corner. Ah. Peter had made the drawing twenty years ago. He wondered if it was an old farmhouse that had been in the Hobart family. The drawing was meticulously neat, like Peter, and highly detailed. Two fireplaces, built-in cupboards in two rooms, a crawl space between the walls for access to wiring. An ell that probably led to a huge barn.
His phone rang. “Yeah, Tony?”
“The bookshop is too obvious, unless you want to send a plainclothes officer in ten or fifteen minutes before the drop to browse.”
“Done. What else?”
“Jimmy has a spot in an upstairs office across the street. I’m going to sit in my car half a block away until around 2:30. Aaron O’Heir will drive up with a slack tire and park as close to the bench as he can get. I’ll walk over and help him.”
Harvey frowned. “We don’t want the closest vehicle jacked up and out of commission when the drop goes down.”
“Good thought, Captain. Got a suggestion?”
“Tell Aaron to put his hood up. He can tinker with his carburetor.”
“Yeah. That could work.”
“I want Jimmy where he’s got access, too.”
“As soon as he sees Debbie walking toward the bench, he’ll come down to the door at street level of his building. We’re just using the upstairs window for a good view and so he won’t be in the way of the people who work in there.”
“Okay,” Harvey said uneasily. “Nothing better?”
“There’s a Thai restaurant where we can put two officers at a window table, and a burger joint in the next block up. Now, there’s a produce stand down half a block from the bookstore. We talked to the owner, and he’ll let somebody pretend to work with him starting at two.”
“Good. Who have we got for that?”
“Lloyd Gordon. And Sgt. Legere wants in, but we’re not sure where to put him. There’s a dress shop on the opposite side of the street from the bookstore, but we need a female for that.”
“I’ll ask Cheryl Yeaton if we can borrow Crocker or Benoit.”
“For undercover work?” Tony said.
“Got a better idea?”
“No. Maybe Sgt. Legere could pose as her impatient husband while she tries on dresses, except she won’t actually try any on.”
“Yeah. Talk to Legere and work it out. And be mindful that one of the kidnappers could be using one of those same spots to observe the drop location.”
“Right.”
“I’ll call Cheryl,” Harvey said. “If they give us any more officers, put them in unmarked cars on the side streets, ready to follow whoever picks up the bag.”
After a short delay, the day sergeant assured him she would have a female officer in street clothes at the clothing store by 2:15.
“Thanks, Cheryl,” Harvey said. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me so many, you’ll never be able to repay me,” Cheryl said.
A quick tap on the door made him swivel toward it. Chief Browning stood in the doorway wearing jeans and a light army jacket.
“What are you doing here?” Harvey asked.
Mike cracked a grin. “I couldn’t stay away. You know me.”
“Yeah, you’re addicted to field work. How are you going to stand it in the woods when you retire?”
“I’ll be fine, but this might be my last chance to see some action.”
“You’re not going near the drop,” Harvey said, eyeing him from head to toe.
“I figured you’d say that.” Mike pulled sunglasses from his breast pocket and put them on. “How about now? I can go book shopping.”
“No way. Like nobody would recognize you just because you wore shades. Especially inside a store.”
“You think?”
Harvey sighed in exasperation. “Mike, your face is better known than anyone in town’s except the mayor’s.”
“Aw, come on, what about the news anchor or the Seadogs’ shortstop?”
“They live outside town.” Harvey waved a hand to indicate the entire study. “Notice anything odd about this room?”
Mike frowned and looked around. He walked over to the desk and picked up a leather case. “Nice binoculars.”
“That’s not it.”
“Okay, I give up. What?”
“This is Peter’s sanctuary, and there’s nothing about cars in this room. Even the wall art is nature prints and architecture.”
“And Peter makes his living with cars.” Mike panned the décor. “So, what are you saying?
He doesn’t love cars?”
“I don’t know. He was in college when his father died—studying to be an architect.”
“So Dad dumped the business on him, and he’s been stuck in it ever since?”
“Peter doesn’t come across that way. And he’s done a terrific job with the business. I’m just sayin’.”
“Yeah.” Mike sat down on the edge of the desk. “Peter’s a good guy. So what’s the plan?”
“I’ve got three of my men and several of Ron’s getting into position gradually.” Harvey glanced at his watch. “Debbie Higgins should be here soon. She’s going to play Abby and deliver the ransom.”
“Higgins doesn’t look like Abby.”
“They had a long, blonde wig in Property. And I’ll get Abby to loan her one of her jackets.”
Mike grunted. “Union Street.”
“Yeah. Who told you?”
“Charlie Doran.”
The dispatcher would have a hard time keeping something like that a secret from the chief, and Harvey hadn’t asked him to. “Promise not to go there?”
“All right. I can stay here with Abby, if that will help.”
“That’s perfect. Thanks. I think I’ve covered all the bases.” Harvey worked the knot on his necktie loose as he talked.
“Where will you be?” Mike asked.
“I’ll pop into a dentist’s office and then walk out and stroll slowly down the street to the bookstore.”
“Did you eat lunch?”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I figured,” Mike said. “Eat something.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Harvey said.
Mike shrugged. “Don’t blame me if Jennifer’s mad at you. Hey, have you figured out why the car salesman was blown away last night?”
“Not exactly.” Harvey walked over to the window and looked out over the Hobarts’ back yard. It held a wooden play gym with a little fort on the top, like a citified treehouse. “Winfield and Cook interviewed the ex-wife this morning. She told them she left Ulrich because he was a gambler, and he’d lose his paycheck half the time before he got home with it.”
“You think he was into a loan shark?”
“Good possibility,” Harvey said.
“Which would make these kidnappers the loan shark’s goons.”
“Don’t you love organized crime?”
Mike grimaced. “Do you think it’s time we formed a special unit for that?”
“I dunno. We had that gang thing in the West End last summer.”
“Don’t remind me.” Mike stood. “It’s been pretty quiet this spring, though.”
“Yeah. But there’s always something going on around the docks.”
A rustling drew Harvey’s attention, and he turned toward the doorway.
“Officer Higgins is here,” Abby said. She blinked at Mike. “Well, hi, Chief. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Hey, how about now?” Mike slipped on the sunglasses, and Abby smiled.
“Don’t tell me you’re undercover today?”
“Harvey says not, but I’ll stay with you while they take care of business, if you don’t mind.”
“Great,” Abby said. “I found Gary’s old backpack. One strap is almost broken through. I was going to try to stitch it for Andy. Think it will work? He’s got his good backpack at Vickie’s.”
“That will be fine.” Harvey reached for it. “Let me have it, and I’ll pack the money in it. I wondered if you’d mind lending Officer Higgins something to wear that’s your style. Maybe the same sweater you wore to the dealership last night?”
Abby nodded. “Sure. I had a dress on, but I wore a white crocheted sweater over it.”
“I remember,” Harvey said.
“She can put that on.” Abby eyed him narrowly. “Did you eat lunch?”
Harvey scowled. “What is this? You’re tag-teaming me?”
Mike laughed.
“Come on,” Abby said. “You have time for a sandwich. Can’t have you feeling woozy in the middle of the action.”
“I don’t get woozy.”
“Yeah?” Abby took his arm and steered him toward the kitchen. “I know you, Harvey. You need some protein and some carbs before you go.”
*****
Harvey walked slowly down the steps of the dental office. He glanced up the street, then down toward the bookshop. Eddie should be walking up the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Strolling as if he had no schedule, Harvey made his way toward the bookstore. Aaron O’Heir and Tony Winfield, dressed in jeans and chambray shirts, were huddled with their heads together under the hood of a ten-year-old Hundai.
“Yeah, that might work,” Tony said when he was within earshot. “Let’s give ’er a try. If that won’t do it, I’ll go get some jumper cables.”
Tony didn’t look at Harvey. O’Heir shot him a quick glance then focused on the engine again. Harvey walked on, right past the bench the kidnapper had designated. It was empty at the moment, but Deborah Higgins should be sitting on it in just a few minutes. He resisted the urge to check the time.
Across the street and a little farther down, a man emerged from the Thai restaurant and paused to light a cigarette. Too early, Harvey thought. It was one of Legere’s detectives. He should have waited another two or three minutes.
Harvey pushed open the door to the bookstore. He liked this shop. The old building had central shelves and outlying crannies filled with new bestsellers and used books. The oldies were shelved right alongside the new stock, and you could trade in your used books for credit when you shopped. He was a regular customer.
“Good afternoon,” the owner’s wife called to him, and Harvey nodded. He went to a rack near the front window where they displayed Maine books. He picked up a worn copy of Thoreau’s The Maine Woods and turned it over, as though reading the back of the chipped dust jacket. He glanced out the window. Eddie was just passing the smoker in front of the Thai restaurant. Aaron was wiping his hands on a rag and continuing the chatter with Tony.
“It’s going down,” Eddie said in his earpiece.
“Copy,” Harvey said softly. “Spot him yet?”
“Negative.”
Debbie Higgins walked past the window with a jerky stride, as if she was a little nervous. She probably was. Harvey recalled their wild excursion to Mike Browning’s house last year, when Debbie was a rookie. She’d matured a lot. She didn’t look exactly like Abby, but he thought it was close enough with the long golden locks, especially from a distance.
She glanced around and sat down on the bench with the backpack alongside her and looked at her watch. Harvey took a peek at his. Right on time. Could she sit still for two minutes?
A heavyset woman sat down on the other end of the bench. Debbie stiffened and pulled the backpack protectively close.
Could the woman possibly be the kidnapper? Harvey replaced the Thoreau book and picked up whatever was next to it. He took a quick glance at the cover. Van Reid. Terrific. Harvey liked his mysteries. He looked outside again. The new woman set a shopping bag beside her on the bench and nodded at Debbie, who returned a curt nod and looked away. The woman sighed heavily and shuffled her feet. Behind them, on the opposite side of the street, Ron Legere and Sarah Benoit came out of a shop with high-end women’s wear in its front windows. Ron carried a shopping bag, and Sarah smiled brightly at something he said. They walked to the corner and waited for the crosswalk light to change.
Harvey stared down at the book in his hand. In his peripheral vision, he caught movement from the bench. He took a quick look. Debbie had set the backpack down and was trying to shove it under the bench with her foot without being too obvious, but the stocky woman was frowning at her.
Lord don’t let a civilian blow this for us.
Harvey’s heart hammered. He knew Debbie could hear him, though he’d instructed her not to talk unless absolutely necessary.
“Go, Debbie,” he said.
As Debbie rose from the bench, t
he other woman watched her, frowning.
“Hey! You forgot something!”
Harvey could read her lips. Debbie didn’t turn back.
“Find something you like?” a voice said at his elbow.
Harvey whipped around to see the owner’s wife smiling up at him.
“Uh, yeah. Could you put this on hold for me? I need to go. Excuse me.” He thrust the book into her hands and hurried to the door. He peered out through the glass. A dark-skinned man in black jeans and a long-sleeved navy T-shirt catapulted toward the bench. Harvey wanted to intercept him, but that could ruin everything. The woman was bending down, reaching under the bench for the backpack, and the interloper shoved her away. She flew sideways and hit the lamppost, then thudded heavily to the sidewalk.
As the man scooped up the backpack, Aaron O’Heir yelled, “Hey!” and hurried toward the sprawling woman. In that moment, the plan exploded in smithereens.
The suspect jerked the backpack to his side and sprinted down the sidewalk.
“Stay with him,” Harvey said to the officers who could hear him. He shoved the door open and dashed onto the sidewalk. The man was ten yards away with Tony a few steps behind him. Eddie paralleled him on the opposite side of the street, moving fast but not in a panic.
The detective who’d been stationed at the produce stand ran up the sidewalk toward the suspect. As Harvey registered that Detective Lloyd Gordon had his gun drawn, the man with the backpack tried to turn back, but pulled up short. Tony was right behind him, blocking his retreat. The kidnapper checked and darted into the street.
“No, no, no,” Harvey said helplessly as the suspect collided with a garbage truck.
Chapter 7
The truck driver braked. All around him, tires screeched and the traffic halted. Harvey reached the man first. Debbie appeared almost instantly and began directing traffic. As Harvey felt the suspect’s throat for a pulse, Eddie knelt on the pavement across from him.
“Anything?”
Harvey shook his head. Eddie reached for the man’s wrist. The driver barreled around the front of his truck, his mouth gaping.
“I didn’t see him. He just tore into me. I didn’t see him.”
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