“Oops, my bad,” Greg offered with a smirk as he pressed another series of keys.
The video flashed to a black screen, but it was too late. Conner had already had a good, long look at what I’d seen earlier, and he was agitated to the point of being inconsolable.
“Do something!” he screamed at me as Greg’s man forced him back into his chair.
“What do you want me to do, Conner? He has your mother, for Christ’s sake. I can’t risk her losing the baby!”
With a sorrowful moan and his eyes pressed tight, Conner raked a hand through hair as he tipped back in his seat. But before he could form a reply, Greg held up a finger.
“Oh…no, I…I fear you misunderstand,” he explained. “Hannah has already delivered her child. Your child. You’re a father now, to a beautiful baby girl.”
He grinned as if he were delivering the best possible news. Nearly numb from yet another disturbing announcement, I just stood there, staring at Greg, shaking my head as tears formed in my eyes. I couldn’t speak, even as Conner swore at me to fucking do something, anything. But how could I with fifteen hundred pounds of menacing Rottweiler breathing down our necks? Yet even so, with tears trailing down my face, I made Greg a singular promise.
“I’m going to kill you,” I professed quietly. “You mark my words. You’re a dead man. There is nothing on this earth that can save you now.”
Greg’s eyes turned sad, and he stuck his bottom lip out in a sullen pout. “I understand how you feel. This must all be a great shock to you. But make no mistake; you are fully and completely under my thumb now.”
Without looking at his keystrokes, Greg pulled up a new video, and both Conner and I looked up, our eyes glued to Hannah on the large flat-screen monitor. She was crawling along the wood floor around the perimeter of a room. Her knees and feet smeared through a trail of her own blood. She cried out, “Nicole,” again and again, then weakly slapped her bloody palm against a locked door, leaving a long, smeared print as she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
I sucked in a startled breath when the screen went black for a single moment, but then it sprang to life once more with the screen split in two. On one side, Hannah was back on her feet, standing stock still in front of a TV, crying and pleading, and on the other lay a baby—my baby, I was sure—left screaming, naked and alone, rocking precariously close to the edge of an elevated changing table. Suddenly, Hannah wailed in terror then crumpled to the floor before the screen faded to black.
I fell back into my seat, stunned, speechless. I dragged my gaze over to Greg and stared as I shook my head in utter disbelief at his blatant lack of humanity.
“You’re Satan,” I whispered.
With a single nod, Greg relaxed back in his own chair, a grotesquely satisfied smile on his smug face. “Why, yes,” he said. “I can be.”
***
A person can only take so much trauma before they turn numb, and I was disturbingly close to that point. I sat still as a stone, my face impassive, unreadable. Blank. I was on the verge of overload and in serious jeopardy of shutting down completely. Not only did Greg have Conner and my wife, he now had custody of my newborn child, Nicole, an innocent life he obviously had no qualms of using as yet another pawn. The fact that he could leave her unattended and so vulnerable in such a perilously dangerous situation while using it to extort an instinctual reaction and involuntary commitment to do as he bid proved that no step was too much as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t simply a monster, or insane, or even Satan, as I had accused him of.
Greg was soulless.
I wondered how and when he’d become that way. And worse, I wondered how I was supposed to deal with that. He could not be reasoned with. He had no sense of human compassion that could be manipulated in any way. Greg was the very definition of an antisocial psychopath. That realization terrified me beyond comprehension and left me teetering on the very edge of reason.
I felt Greg’s eyes upon me, studying me, evaluating. I think he saw how close he was to not just breaking me, as he intended, but destroying me to the point of uselessness. I could almost feel him pulling back. His gaze swept from me to Conner before he stood.
“I have a few other things to attend to,” he said to us both. “I believe you each have a lot to mull over, so for now, I’ll leave Tyler here to go over the file and become more familiar with the material. Mr. Maguire, Yegor will take you back to your stepfather’s office.”
Conner’s eyes darted nervously between Greg and me. His lips moved with questions he couldn’t find the words to ask. So I asked for him.
“The feds will surely question him,” I said. “What the hell is he supposed to say?”
Greg shook his head. “Nothing for now. He should keep his mouth shut.”
“What?” I howled. “How the fuck is he supposed to do that? You killed two federal agents. You don’t think they know that by now? We’ve been missing for hours. How can he just show up and act as if nothing has happened?”
“When they press, and they will—that’s why I’m sending him back after all—he should explain that, while at your office earlier, you heard from your justifiably terrified wife, and while she is safe, having fled her home earlier, she has left you for putting her and the life of your child at risk. She’s in hiding on her own. You don’t know where, and she refuses to tell you. And that is why you snuck from their custody, to go find your precious wife. It’s called deniable plausibility. The feds will eat that up.”
“Are you insane or just plain stupid?” I asked. “They won’t believe that bullshit. You killed two of their agents. Do you have any idea how serious that is? It’s a capital offense!”
Greg simply waved me away. “Please. It’s all been taken care of. Just apologize for the inconvenience. Don’t elaborate. Everything’s been cleaned up, and everyone’s been accounted for. Trust me,” he ordered then returned the rifle to its case and grabbed his briefcase. “Now, please. My men have their orders, and I have a call to make.” With a case in each hand, he turned and walked from the room.
I stood as Greg’s men began shuffling about, discussing who was going to do what. Behind me, I felt Conner lean forward and, from the corner of my eye, saw him swipe the top page from the stack of papers in the open file on the table next to me. He crumpled it up and stuffed it into his pocket a split second before he was pulled from his seat and dragged around the far end of the table. We locked eyes as he was pushed toward the door from behind.
Worried I might never see him again, I reached out. “Conner…”
He turned and grabbed the door frame, struggling with the guard behind him who tried to shove him through. “Ty!” he called out as the guard in front pried his fingers loose and pulled him into the darkened hall.
CHAPTER 47
Hannah
I remained on the floor as I continued to cry out for Nicole, for someone, anyone, to help her. My body was weak, fatigued by childbirth and blood loss, fear and sobbing. I was trapped in a nightmare there seemed to be no end to, with each passing hour worse than the one before. It was an all-too-familiar feeling, though this time it wasn’t just me in jeopardy. They had my innocent, newborn baby girl. All I could be grateful for was the knowledge that Conner and Ty were both safe in the custody of the FBI. At least, they were the last time I talked to Tyler, and while I knew Greg had every intention of using me and Nicole to lure Ty in, I didn’t think he had him yet, or he would have bragged about it, I’m sure. So it was just me and Nicole. I had to pull myself together if I was to save us.
I dragged myself up from the floor and staggered to the bathroom, where I cleaned up as best I could. Scouring through a bag of medical supplies and spare clothing the doctor had left, I secured absorbent pads, though, thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have stopped. Then I changed into a fresh cotton nightgown and robe and wobbled gingerly back into my bedroom cell, when I heard a muffled ringing, what sounded like a cell phone. I turned
my head in every direction to get a read on where it was coming from. The dresser. It was coming from the dresser. But before I could even get there, it stopped. As did I. But only for a moment. Somewhere in my room was a phone. That would be my way out. I rushed for the dresser.
Starting at the top, I pulled each heavy drawer open, rifled through the stacks of neatly folded blankets, towels, and sheets, then slammed it shut when I found nothing. I had already rummaged though three of the six wide drawers when the ringing started again. It was coming from the bottom drawer on the left. I yanked so hard on the handles, it pulled clear of the cabinet and fell onto the floor in a crooked heap, its contents spilling into a single pile through which I foraged until I found the cheap burner-style phone stuffed deep into the folds of a thermal blanket.
It continued to ring as the word BLOCKED flashed across the small screen. In my excitement to gain access to the phone, I hadn’t thought through what it meant for there to be one in my room. Surely, this was another trick of some sort, a breadcrumb I was being manipulated into following. But did that really matter? It was a phone, for God’s sake. I could call for help. But…I didn’t even know where I was. How could I direct the authorities to my location if I didn’t even know where that was?
In my moment of panic, I failed to answer the phone, and it stopped ringing. I immediately dialed 9-1-1 and pressed send, but nothing happened. I checked the signal. It appeared to be strong, yet nothing was happening. I tried Tyler’s cell number instead. Same thing. Nothing. I tried Conner’s phone, even Beck’s, but not one call went through. With it clutched tightly in my hand, I screamed and drew my arm back, ready to hurl it at the wall, when it started to ring for a third time. This might be my only chance to plead for help from whoever was calling. With trembling fingers, I hit the receive button and put it up to my ear.
“Hello?” My voice came out cracked and shaking.
“Ah, there you are, Hannah.”
Greg. I should’ve known this was just another game.
“I was calling to make sure you were comfortable,” he explained, “see if there was anything you needed.”
“You sick, twisted son of a b—”
“Uh-uh-uh. Not a good idea to be ungracious to your host.”
“Where’s my baby? You bring her back to me!”
“Oh, my dear Hannah, you’re hardly in a position to be making demands.”
I started to cry, more out of anger and frustration than fear. “You’re an evil, heartless monster.”
“I assure you, Hannah, you’ve yet to see just how evil and heartless I can truly be, but you very well might if you do not cooperate. For now, though, I will prove how compassionate I can be.”
The TV on the dresser surged back to life, startling me and making me hop back in surprise, but the image on the screen stilled me in a heartbeat. The same woman, who had earlier comforted then abandoned my baby, was now standing at the changing table where Nicole rested quietly. Soft cooing noises gurgled from her tiny, pink lips as the young woman first diapered then dressed Nicole in a thick, fuzzy sleeper. Her little arms waved in the air as the woman lifted my daughter to her shoulder.
She quieted completely when they settled into the rocking chair. The woman unbuttoned her blouse and tugged her bra aside then placed Nicole at her breast, gently rubbing her nipple against my baby’s rosy lips. Nicole instantly latched on and started to nurse while her little fist beat a light tattoo against the woman’s breast.
I watched in sick fascination, a huge part of me relieved to see that my child was safe, warm, and fed, while the other part was outraged that another woman, a stranger, had taken my place, doing what only I was entitled to do, nourishing and bonding with my daughter. Silent tears streamed down my face, and a choked cry escaped my tight throat as the woman sang a soothing lullaby, rocking Nicole gently until, with her belly now full, her mouth slackened and her eyes fluttered closed. A minute later, with Nicole fast asleep, the young woman refastened her clothes, and the television faded to black.
I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding then started to whimper at the implications of what I’d just witnessed. From a distance, I heard Greg’s sing-song voice call out. I hadn’t even realized I’d allowed the phone to drop to my side while I watched the stranger take my place in my daughter’s life. I slowly lifted the phone back to my ear.
“Ah, yes, there you are, my dear,” he purred. “You must be eternally grateful to see that I’m taking such good care of your fragile, little daughter, are you not?”
At first, I wasn’t sure how to respond. Every cell screamed for me to shriek at Greg, to disabuse him of the idea that he was doing the right thing, that I was appreciative of his efforts, but deep inside, in the very heart that made me a mother, I was thankful, because, ultimately, the only thing that truly mattered was that Nicole was safe, warm, and fed.
So, as I backed up toward the bed and wiped my tears away, I nodded and answered, “Yes. Yes, I’m very grateful. Thank you.”
Greg actually sighed. “Good. I’m glad, because I’m positive your gratitude will ensure strict cooperation, will it not?”
I nodded again and whispered, “Yes. I’ll do anything you ask. Anything.” I leaned down against the edge of the bed, my shoulders slumped.
“We’ll speak again soon, Hannah,” he said in place of a farewell. Then the line went silent.
I pulled the phone away and stared at it before tossing it to the center of the bed. Numb from shock and fatigue, I just sat there, my hands limp at my sides while I stared into space—until I heard the bedroom door unlock and open. I turned sluggishly, unprepared for any more forms of torture. But to my surprise, in walked the young woman with Nicole asleep in her arms. Thoroughly weak and exhausted, I couldn’t seem to move a single muscle. I simply sat there, gaping at the woman, who, in person, seemed hardly more than a child herself.
With her eyes locked on Nicole, she padded softly across the room and came to a stop before me, a mere two feet away. When she finally tore her gaze away and locked with mine, I saw the tears gathered in her eyes. They were soft and gentle yet filled with pain and remorse, but she didn’t say anything. She just looked back down at Nicole and smiled before she stepped closer and held out her arms, reaching to place my daughter in my trembling embrace. I accepted this most precious of gifts, and my shoulders quaked with relief.
I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
She nodded once and offered me a sympathetic smile before she turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind her. But I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that I had my child again. I sobbed in pure joy as I cradled Nicole in my arms, raising her warm, fuzzy head to my lips. I rocked and swayed with her then took a seat in the chair, where I examined her fingers, kissing them one by one. Loosening her from her swaddling and pulling her fuzzy-clad feet free, I repeated it with her toes until she started to fuss.
“Sh, sh, shhh,” I hushed as I bundled her back up, but Nicole’s fretful grunts turned into soft wails before she let loose into a full-fledged scream-fest of newborn discontent. And yet, while disturbing, I was also thrilled to be the one allowed to console my child, even though I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
I stood and began to pace, however slow in my tender post-labor condition, but even that did not ease my daughter’s displeasure. Her cries made my breasts ache and my abdomen cramp, forcing me to bend over. I cried out, which only made Nicole scream harder and louder. Tears sprang to my eyes again, more out of frustration than pain. I was doing a poor job of mothering and felt inadequate compared to the young woman. That feeling intensified when the bedroom door burst back open and in she walked with Danny close on her heels.
With Nicole pressed tight to my chest, I backed away as the woman drew near. “No, not yet, please, I beg you. Give me more time.”
Danny stepped around the young woman and gently placed his hands on my arms. “Shush now, Miss �
��annah. It’ll be all right, I promise. Now, ‘ow ‘bout ya ‘and over the wee one so we can see ta ‘er?”
I shook my head and clutched Nicole even tighter as she wailed in protest.
“Miss ‘annah, you must cooperate,” he purred calmly. “Er else Grig might not ever let ya see ‘er again. Ya don’t be wantin’ that, do ya, Miss ‘annah?” He held out his hands. “Please. I’ll person’ly see ta it that she’s kept safe and well-fed until she can be returned to ya.”
“No, Danny, please. That’s my job. I’m her mother. Please don’t take her away.”
Danny looked over his shoulder with a quick nod. The woman approached as Danny backed away. She gently worked her hands around Nicole’s squirming little body, but I wouldn’t relinquish her. I couldn’t.
The woman looked into my eyes. “It’s okay,” she soothed, her accent as twangy as Danny’s, yet gentle and feminine. “I unnerstan’, Miss ‘annah, but ya need to be brave. I promise ta take the very best care oov ‘er. I swear ta ya.”
She smiled reassuringly, and in it, I saw something I can only describe as not just sympathy, but empathy, as if she knew only too well exactly what I was feeling. It forged an inexplicable and almost instantaneous bond between us, and, however reluctant, I eased the death-grip I had on my child and handed her over to the young woman. Danny stared at me as my eyes followed the young woman and Nicole out into the hallway. A soft whimper escaped my lips when Nicole disappeared from sight.
Danny stepped close again, his hands once more at my arms. “I’m so sorry, Miss ‘annah.”
I tried to wrench free. “Don’t touch me!”
Undeterred, he pulled me in tighter and held me close as he whispered in my ear. “Grig is watchin’ ya at all times, Miss ‘annah. Ya must obey without a fight if ya ever want the chance ta spend time with yer wee one again, to feed ‘er, to ‘ave a chance to bond. Yer loosin’ precious time. I’m beggin’ ya ta listen when I tell ya I do not want any ‘arm to befall either you or yer child.”
Leverage (The Mistaken Series) Page 31