Get it together. So what if we had been standing towel-to-towel last night? He probably didn’t even remember. I had to be cool. “Morning,” I called out.
Lucas glanced back, seemingly unaffected. “Morning.” He nodded his head to the other counter. “Coffee’s over there.”
“Great.” A welcome distraction. I headed for the pleasantly well-stocked coffee bar and busied myself with a fresh cup, dragging out the preparation process as much as possible. It was the most carefully-crafted cup of joe in history. The last thing I wanted this morning was some small talk with this near-stranger I’d just seen near-naked.
I lingered in place and sipped. And sipped. I had just about counted the number of tiles completing the backsplash, by color, when finally Sloan appeared in the doorway, looking fresh and cheery in her usual jeans and boots. She took in the two of us for a moment and grinned.
“You two sure are seeing a lot of each other lately,” she chirped.
I sputtered coffee back into my mug, choking. I tried to give a little throat-clearing cough to play if off. But one glance at Lucas's amused face told me I hadn’t fooled everyone. I looked quickly away.
Sloan cast a questioning glance at my reddening face but didn’t say a thing. Lucas turned his back to us, focused again on the stove. I just knew he was silently laughing at me. Me and my awkward discomfort.
I grabbed a mug and held it out to Sloan, attempting to refocus her attention. She snatched it with a smile and poured herself a black cup, taking an appreciative sip as she moved to the banquette table in the corner.
I settled in across from her and took in the rest of the cheerful white kitchen for the first time. “Not too shabby for a hideout, I must say.” I glanced back at Lucas, noting his striped, ruffled apron several sizes too small. It was fairly adorable. “Didn’t know it would come with a personal chef.”
“Nah, don’t let him fool you,” Sloan tossed back jokingly. “He’s just trying to show off. Doubt you’ll ever see him in there again.”
A soft scoff sounded from the other side of the kitchen. But Lucas didn’t dare turn back. He pretended to not be listening at all. I caught a barely perceptible shake of his head. Maybe Sloan knows how to embarrass him? It was a satisfying thought.
I decided to feed the urge. “Sooo?” I gushed loudly. “You have to tell me. How was your date?”
Sloan read the situation immediately. She glanced to Lucas's back with a wicked grin. “I don’t know. I think he might be it. The one.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that. I had just wanted to rub the date in Lucas's beautiful meddling face. “Really?”
For his part, Lucas continued to fake immersion in his cooking tasks. But I could sense the tension as he listened. His movements became very slow and deliberate. Forced concentration.
Sloan shrugged. “Who knows? Like I said, I think it’s time to move on. He might be just what I need now.”
Lucas threw down his spatula in disgust and marched over, dropping his disinterested pretense. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That guy?”
I watched silently, fascinated. What is his motivation here?
Sloan stared back, defiant. “And what is wrong with Christopher?”
“Christopher?” He sighed, annoyed. “Please. He would bore you to death. Mr. straight-laced accountant. That can’t be the guy.”
Sloan gaped at him. “I never told you he was an accountant.”
Lucas looked away, holding his tongue.
Her eyes glowed with anger. “You researched my date?”
“Like you could honestly expect me not to,” he snapped back. He took a deep breath and continued calmly. “But I just did a surface check. No deep dive, I swear. Not that there’s likely to be much to that guy.”
“Sure, okay,” she retorted sarcastically. “So you’re telling me you didn’t follow us?”
He averted his eyes once again, lips pressed tight. “I never said that.” He took another deep breath. “But not for long, okay? The guy just made me nervous. He’s not what you need.”
“And what do I need, someone like you?” Sloan hissed. “I tried that, remember? Your brother was perfect. But now he’s gone.” She crossed her arms and looked away. Her voice got softer. “And I can’t do that again. Ever.”
He opened his mouth to retort, but held back, wary. He seemed unsure how to proceed. The great uber-cool Lucas, uncertain.
“Not that it’s any of your business, really,” Sloan snapped. She leveled an icy look at him, daring him to argue. He didn’t move a muscle. They had a long stare-down.
Finally she raised her eyebrows, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Those eggs aren’t going to burn themselves, sweetie.”
Properly dismissed, Lucas returned to his corner without argument, sulking silently. I took a deep breath as the tension in the room began to settle again. It was my first witness to any sort of real disagreement between them. And I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Earlier suspicions nagged at me once again. He’s jealous. And I wondered if that was exactly what Sloan wanted, deep down. She was egging him on.
Sloan’s face wasn’t going to give anything away, though. She took a long sip of her coffee and sat back, cheerfulness returned as though nothing had happened. “So what about you? Maybe you want to give the friendly mailman a chance? He certainly seemed into you.”
I glanced across the kitchen, embarrassed. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure he’s my type.”
“But you’re not you, remember? You’re . . . what was the name? Daisy?” She raised her eyebrows playfully. “Maybe he’s just Daisy’s type. Why not try something different?” Her eyes bore into Lucas's back, daring him to turn around and interfere again. “I’m finding it quite refreshing.”
I shrugged. This conversation wasn’t really about me. “Guess I’ll think about it.”
A moment later Lucas appeared at the table bearing two loaded plates. My mouth watered as he carefully placed them in front of us and turned away. He threw his apron on the counter and stomped toward the door, disappearing without a word.
“After all that, he’s not going to eat?” I asked. I felt bad for my earlier desire to make him uncomfortable. He really seemed affected.
Sloan glanced in his wake. “Probably already did. He devours his food like a caveman, they both did. Really don’t know who taught them that.” She shook her head and picked up her fork to dig in. “Boys.”
SIXTEEN
He certainly hadn’t burned our eggs after all. Breakfast was delicious, although tinged with wandering thoughts of the chef. I shoved back my plate, annoyed I had pushed through the pile of food to discomfort. Couldn’t help it.
I sighed and sat back in my cushioned seat, hoping a few minutes of coffee would allow things to settle. It was time to poke around in some of my lingering questions. “So last night you asked Lucas about who’s in charge of the organization now. Where did that come from? Is that your new lead?”
Sloan shook her head and copied my plate-rejection maneuver. “Unfortunately that seems to be a dead end. But I had hopes.” She picked up her coffee and leaned in a little. “You remember when we were talking to Salvatore and he mumbled something before denying any knowledge? Well, it was Italian. All I caught was Capo. I figured he could’ve been referring to Il Capo, an old term for the big boss of a crime ring.”
“And so maybe Sal suspected his boss was behind the finger message? However unsuccessful it might have been.”
“Right. I really do think Sal had nothing to do with it.” She sighed, frustrated. “But apparently I was wrong about the boss thing. Because Lucas says there was no one above him around here lately. And if anyone would know, he would.”
“And why is that again?” I tossed it out casually, hoping to finally get a little insight.
Sloan shrugged. “He’s just very .
. . plugged in. Remember, apparently he’s been working with the feds on this for years. If someone else was calling the shots, he’d tell us.”
I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. Working with the feds. It didn’t sound like he was one of them. So what did he do, exactly?
And why did I care?
“But that’s okay,” Sloan began again, interrupting my musings. “We have a better lead anyway.”
“Holding out on me, I see.” I straightened, perking up again despite my food coma. “You’ve got something?”
We both paused as a rustle sounded from down the hall. It was followed by footsteps, quickly headed toward us. I turned toward the doorway, halfway expecting Lucas to reappear. Instead a bloody, distorted nightmare of a face rounded the corner and stopped, standing motionless in the doorway. I gasped and fought back a scream as I processed the sight.
It was a mask. A rubber Halloween mask. It sat crookedly atop a slight male frame wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and dark jeans, a weathered navy satchel hanging from the shoulder. They continued standing in the doorway, peering back through the uneven eye holes. We watched, waiting.
Finally Sloan spoke up, hesitant. “Leo?”
The figure sighed and hung his head. “Not even a scream,” he said. “After all that, I at least hoped for a good scare.” The man reached up to yank the mask from his head, shaking out his dark, sweaty mop.
I stared back, utterly confused. “What in the world are you doing?”
Leo strutted across the room toward us. “I heard there were disguises involved in coming here.”
“You never have been good at disguises,” Sloan replied. “Guess I shouldn’t be surpr—”
“I also heard,” Leo interrupted, “that your cover was something about making a horror film. So I thought it was a good opportunity. Fits right in, right?”
Sloan grinned at me, eyebrows raised. “The horror thing was your idea. Now you’ve only encouraged him.”
Leo slapped the mask on the table. “Well, I neglected to think about your security out there when I came up with my brilliant cover. ” He flopped down next to Sloan at the table. “They didn’t seem to appreciate it so much. Almost got me killed.”
I was more successful at hiding my amusement than Sloan. Leo glared back at us.
“Whatever.” He waved a dismissive hand at us. “My mistake, covering up this mug. It deserves to be seen.” He stretched his neck a little higher. “Don’t know what you’d do without it.”
Sloan cleared her throat, tamping down her laugh. “You’re right, sorry.” She forced a serious expression onto her face. “We’re very glad you didn’t die by Halloween mask. Really.”
“So was the journey worth the risk?” I gestured at Sloan with my coffee. “She says we have a new lead. What’ve you got for us?”
Leo’s eyes lit up. “I took a look at the video you guys sent me.” He reached to flip open his bag.
“Video?” I glanced to Sloan, confused.
She smiled back. “Looks like we finally heard from the kidnappers. They sent something to Jackson last night. He forwarded it to me.”
“Last night?” I gaped at her. “A video is huge. Why didn’t you say anything the moment I saw you?”
She shook her head. “This is not for Lucas's ears. He doesn’t need to know anything about what we’re doing, or he’ll be jumping right in the middle of things. Getting in our way.” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the door. “In fact, I’m not certain it’s safe to discuss here if he’s still around.”
“Long gone,” Leo said. “He was leaving when I came in. Was even nice enough to become part of the welcoming crew.” He rubbed the side of his head absently.
What did they do to him? I pictured the security team tackling him outside as he tried to approach in that ridiculous mask. Poor Leo.
I shifted my attention to his laptop, impatient for it to boot up. “So? What do they want?”
“We know what they want,” Sloan replied. “They want two hundred grand. It was on the original note. Now we know how they want to get it.”
Leo hit play and the screen lit up with the image of Grant’s eyes, close to the camera. The lower half of his face was covered with a gag of some sort. Nothing else was visible. He stared straight ahead, blinking. Unmoving.
I gulped, trying to steel myself for the rest. At least he didn’t look scared. More . . . resigned. Weary. I felt sick.
The video played on and on, nothing but him sitting there. Just blinking. I realized nothing was coming from the speakers.
“Is there sound?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from showing my panic. “Is this it?”
“No sound,” Leo answered. “But there is a message.”
Finally the screen changed. But only in the form of a piece of printer paper shoved in front of Grant’s face. The camera light glowed against the words scrawled on the page.
Money’s due.
$200,000 unmarked. Under bench, 21st Street dog park.
Two days.
The message hovered on the screen for ten seconds before going black, the video abruptly ended. We continued to stare at the screen a moment, absorbing.
“So.” Sloan finally tore her eyes away and looked to Leo. “What did you find? Could you trace where the camera is?”
My stomach lurched with hope. I forget we have this kind of support. We didn’t have to be locked into the kidnappers’ instructions. We had our own ways around.
“Sorry,” Leo replied, shaking his head. “Not yet, anyway. Their signal is bouncing through all kinds of proxies, all over the world. Can’t pinpoint the location.”
I sighed, returning to reality. No quick fix here. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
Sloan looked just as disappointed. “Well, at least we know the plan now. No more mystery. And he appears unharmed. So we have a couple days to find another lead . . . or persuade his family to pay up.”
“I think that’s probably our best bet,” I said. “Just talking to his family again. Not that I know how to convince them it’s not a hoax. But with another dead end, I don’t want to waste time trying to find any more leads. Let’s not take any chances.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Leo exclaimed. “Giving up so easily.” He whipped the laptop back around and clicked rapidly on the keyboard a moment. His face lifted in a wide grin as he twirled the screen back to face us. “I said I couldn’t pinpoint the location.”
Our eyes widened. The screen was filled with video of a dimly-lit living room, featuring Grant slouched on an overstuffed brown sofa. His feet were propped on the coffee table as he stared straight ahead, a white fuzzy pillow tucked under his elbow and soda can in his clearly unbound hand. Flickering light from offscreen suggested he was watching television.
“I never said I couldn’t get into the camera anyway.” Leo clicked another key to zoom in on the hostage. “We can certainly see a lot more when Grant’s face is not the only thing in view.”
I studied what I could, excitement growing. “Is this recorded? Because it’s all dark there.”
“Live feed,” Leo replied. “Desktop webcam. Best guess is he’s in a basement. Or they just covered all the windows. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out you need a little privacy when you’re holding someone hostage.”
Sloan glanced up at me, eyes narrowed. “But your good buddy doesn’t exactly appear to be spending his time bound and gagged.”
He certainly doesn’t. I felt a tiny sigh of relief. “Good to see he’s not tortured or miserable. Just bored, maybe.” I leveled a look back at her. “But you know he’s just my coworker. Whose kidnapping happens to be all my fault, remember?”
Sloan rolled her eyes. “You have to stop taking responsibility for his choices. His decision to spy on you.” She turned to Leo. “Anyway, won’t they know you’re watching
?”
He waved away the suggestion. “I disabled the light. And even if they knew how to look, they wouldn’t be able to tell we’re there. But they’re not that sophisticated, regardless. The protection they implemented is meager at best. Child’s play, really.”
“But what about all the proxies? They’re hiding the location pretty good.”
“Amateur stuff. I could teach even you two yahoos to do that in a day.”
Sloan’s face twisted in mock-outrage.
“No offense.” Leo shrugged and gazed down at the screen. “But seriously, while this doesn’t tell us who’s behind things, it does tell us who is not. And that’s any sort of real professionals. People who know what they’re doing.”
“That’s surprising,” Sloan replied. “I would imagine the mob guys have some experience in this sort of thing.”
My stomach sank. “But it could still be who we think, right?” I had to cling to the story we knew. If we weren’t certain who was behind this, then we knew a sum total of nothing. It was too much to consider. “The whole organization is in shambles. All their pros could be behind bars.”
“Definitely still possible,” Leo responded. “A desperate attempt to get much-needed funds, by whoever’s left.” His bottom lip puckered out as he considered, head tilted. “Not the worst plan, really. Get some quick, easy money from scared parents, and then walk away with no one hurt.” He let out a quick chuckle. “Too bad they greatly overestimated the family’s concern.”
“And underestimated our involvement,” Sloan added. “There’s no way we’re going to make it that simple for them.”
It was comforting, her confidence. But had we really been any help at all, so far?
I returned her smile, not wanting to dim her enthusiasm. “So what now?”
Sloan tapped her finger to her lips, thinking as she stared at Grant on the screen. He stayed slouched on the couch, motionless other than the occasional sip from his soda. Finally she looked up, resolute.
“Since we’re at a bit of a temporary stalemate, I’d like to talk to Jackson again,” she said. “See if there’s anything else useful we can get out of him. Let’s find out where he is and pay a visit.”
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