by Andrea Kane
Nancy swallowed. "The way you say that... do you think Walker's hurt Brian—or worse?"
"Walker doesn't fit that profile. He's not a killer; he's an extortionist. Plus, he'd have no motive. All he wants is to get his money and get out of the country. But if he calls you tomorrow—which I believe he will to firm up the details of the drop—try to pin him down. Ask for proof that Brian's okay. And work out a plan for how you'll get verification of Brian's whereabouts before Walker's plane takes off. It's a logical request. Walker realizes you're aware that once he leaves the country, he'll find a way to escape extradition, and you'll have no recourse. You'll want to be sure that Brian's unharmed and that you can find him. I think you'll hear a man whose only focus is on vanishing rich."
"Can we ask to speak to Brian?"
"Sure, but Walker probably will refuse. He won't want to stay on the phone too long, in case you're tracing the call. He won't want to take a chance that Brian will blurt out something that would give away his whereabouts. And it's also possible that Brian and Walker aren't in the same location. Walker's probably holed up in some motel, and having a child with him would only make it harder for him to blend into the woodwork. So don't be too concerned if he refuses to put Brian on the phone. Just keep in mind what I said about his goal: minimum hassle, maximum cash, and quick getaway. Harming Brian isn't part of that agenda."
"Okay." Nancy felt old, weary, and ready to jump out of her skin. "In the meantime, there's nothing we can do. Nothing but pray."
"Mrs. Stratford, I know how difficult this is," Patricia said quietly. "But it will all be over soon."
Nancy squeezed her eyes shut. "The most horrible questions keep running through my mind. What if Walker decides to shut Brian up so he can't identify him? What if he manages to jet off without ever turning our son over to us or telling us where he is? What if he takes Brian with him for insurance?"
Patricia remained silent until Nancy was finished. Then she said, "We'll discuss your fears in person. For what it's worth, I don't believe any of those prospects is in the cards. Now, drive safely. We'll see you both soon."
"And if there's any news in the interim?'
"I'll contact you immediately."
Patricia hung up, gazing at the phone for a moment before turning to the occupants of the hospital room.
"Julia," she began, "how are you feeling?"
"Physically? Better. Emotionally . . ." Julia's shoulders lifted in a trembling shrug. 'This is excruciating."
Patricia nodded. She turned, extending her hand to shake Connor's. "Mr. Stratford, it's good to meet you. I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances."
He returned the handshake. "So am I. But Meredith and Julia swear by your skills." A hard swallow. "Brian's a special kid. He means the world to all of us. Bring him home."
"We will." She pulled up a chair and sat down. "Before I get more details from you, is there anyone else involved that you know of? Anyone we should be talking to?"
Julia's head came up. "Cliff Henderson."
"Definitely." Connor explained to Patricia how Cliff fit into the picture. "I don't think his guilt runs any deeper than that. But given his contact with Matthews, you'll want to talk to him. He might know something he doesn't even realize he knows, something only a pro would pick up on. My only request is that you not talk to him here. I don't want anyone else knowing Julia's con-scious—just as a precaution."
"I agree" Patricia replied. "Let's keep those who know Julia is awake and talking down to a minimum. On the other hand, I do want Cliff Henderson questioned. The logical place for that to happen would be police headquarters, where Martin Hart can handle things." A quizzical look. "Will Mr. Henderson go willingly?"
"For Nancy's sake? You bet" Connor pulled out his cell phone. "I'll give him a call. I want to let him know that Nancy's all right, anyway."
That call took two emotional minutes.
"He's on his way to talk to Marty," Connor announced, punching off the phone. He frowned, seeing the absorbed look on Patricia's face. "What's wrong?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the fact that Matthews did the actual kidnapping. It raises some questions."
"It would explain how Brian's rabbit's foot got into Greg's car," Connor noted. "And why Greg got to Walker so soon after Julia overheard him making Walker's travel arrangements. He wanted her shut up, big time."
Patricia's contemplative air intensified. "That's a lot of personal involvement for a hired hand. Not to mention a lot of risk. With what guarantees? Matthews sounds like an intelligent man. It must have occurred to him that he'd be directly linked with the kidnapping. Henderson and Nancy are friends. Obviously, Henderson knew Matthews was on Walker's payroll. Just as obviously, Nancy had direct contact with Brian's kidnapper. She saw his height, his build, his eyes. Put those pieces together, and there's every chance that Henderson would open up to Nancy, and she would figure out who abducted her son. Kidnapping is a federal offense. Walker planned an out for himself. He'd be in Switzerland, free as a bird. What about Matthews? What out did he have? Did he plan to relocate with a new identity? Using what contacts? He's a city manager, not a major underworld figure. But what else could he do? He had to realize that he'd be brought up on criminal charges."
Julia sat up in bed. "So what are you saying? That you think Greg's going to jet off with Walker? That doesn't make sense. The flight arrangements I heard him make were for one."
'Tell me exactly what you heard."
Launching into Saturday's events, Julia filled Patricia in on every detail. She was just finishing up when Connor's cell phone rang.
"Now what?" he murmured. He punched talk. "Yes?"
"It's your father." Harrison Stratford sounded more wired than Connor had ever heard him. "Have you heard from Stephen?"
"Yes, Dad " Connor said carefully. "He got to Nancy. She's okay. Dehydrated and sore but okay. He's taking her to the hospital to be checked out."
"Good." A hard swallow. "Connor, listen, I'm in Lake George."
A frown. "What are you doing in Lake George?"
"I'm with Philip Walker."
Connor nearly dropped the phone. "What?" He stared at Patricia, gesturing for her to lean closer. When she did, he angled the phone so she could listen. "Did you say you were with Philip Walker?"
"Yes. He's got a place up here in the Adirondacks. That's not important now. What's important is that he denies orchestrating Brian's kidnapping. He insists he knew nothing about it. I'm beginning to believe him. One thing's for sure—he had nothing to do with ripping off your car or with your girlfriend's accident. For those, you can thank Greg Matthews."
Slowly, Connor digested that. "Let me get this straight. Walker's claiming he's innocent, that he's not involved?"
"Oh, he's involved all right Just not with tije major felonies like kidnapping and attempted murder. He's just your basic thieving extortionist." Harrison launched into an explanation of the tapes Walker had of Stephen and the call he'd made to collect on them.
"So the ransom call, you're saying that wasn't Walker?"
"I don't think so, no. Look, I came up here to negotiate with the SOB—with my cash or my fists, it didn't matter. Once he realized how serious I was and how deep he was in, he agreed to cooperate. He's standing next to me right now, sweating over the prospect of spending the rest of his life in jail. He made a few phone calls, on speaker phone so I could listen. He reached one of his friendly carjackers. It seems Greg Matthews called him Saturday morning and ordered him to go to the mall and steal your car, supposedly on Walker's instructions. The thug did as he was told. Except that after he'd done the breaking, entering, and hotwiring, Matthews appeared, said he'd take it from there. I guess the Benz's alarm system was too complicated for Matthews to manage on his own, and he's not an electronic whiz. But running down a woman who might blow his cover, that's right up his alley."
"Shit," Connor muttered. "Hitting Julia was a coldblooded murder attempt?"
<
br /> "She must have found out something she shouldn't have."
Connor refrained from confirming his father's suspicions, but he met Patricia's grim stare.
"As for the kidnapping, Walker swears he doesn't know a thing," Harrison continued. "None of his goons knew anything about it, either. And here's another persuasive bit of news. I see no evidence that Walker's planning to leave the country. But his pilot sure as hell is. He thinks he's taking Walker to Switzerland—at guess whose orders?"
"Greg's."
"Yup. Matthews made all the arrangements and promised the pilot a hefty bonus for making it happen, again supposedly courtesy of Walker."
The pieces fit—all too well.
"Dad, you didn't straighten things out with the pilot, did you?" Connor demanded. "We need him to follow whatever instructions he was given so Greg won't know we're onto him. For Brian's sake."
"I'm not stupid. I told Walker to keep his mouth shut. He told the pilot he was just confirming final arrangements. At this point, he's as eager as we are to grab Matthews before he gets on that plane."
"We're not the ones who'll be doing the grabbing."
"What does that mean?"
"Hang on a minute." Connor covered the mouthpiece, arching a questioning brow at Patricia. "How much can I say?"
"By all means, tell your father the FBIs involved," she advised. "It'll scare Walker enough to clinch his newly offered cooperation. But first, get me Walker's Lake George address. I'll have an unmarked car sent over to his place. Then tell him to stay put. Reiterate that he shouldn't tip anyone off to Matthews's deception. We're going to beat Greg Matthews at his own game."
Connor nodded.
"Dad," he said into the phone. "What's Walker's address there?" He listened, then scribbled it down, shoving the paper at Patricia. She in turn, whipped out her cell phone and went across the room to make the necessary phone call. "Got it," Connor acknowledged. "Now, keep Walker there. Tell him if he tries to run, he'll be spending a lot more years in prison than if he cooperates. The FBI's already contacted the Lake George police. An unmarked car is on its way."
"You brought in the FBI?" Harrison blew up, as Connor had known he would. "Do you know what kind of publicity that's going to generate?"
"Yup. And I don't give a damn. Neither does Stephen. All we care about is Brian, finding him fast and bringing him home safe." A meaningful pause. "Let it go, Dad. You're not going to win this one. I doubt you really want to. This isn't about a political or social scandal. It's about your grandson. Would you really risk his life just to save face? The answer's no. Because if anything happened to Brian, even you couldn't live with yourself."
A heavy silence, after which Harrison cleared his throat. "I'll stay here till the cops arrive. Then I'll head back down. Call me on my cell phone if there's any news."
"I will." Connor punched end and turned to Patricia, who'd just made two more quick phone calls herself. 'The questions nagging at you about the loopholes in Greg's strategy clearly had merit."
"Those loopholes were just closed." She pursed her lips. "Evidently, Matthews is a lot shrewder than we thought. He not only masterminded Brian's abduction and personally ran Julia down, he set things up so Walker would be framed for the whole shebang. It was a little added protection on his part. This way, he'd flee as an accomplice, leaving Walker to take the rap for kidnapping and attempted murder. Well, it's not going to go down as he expects. I've notified the field office and Police Chief Hart. We'll make the necessary adjustments in our investigation. There'll be a few surprises in store for Greg Matthews."
7:15 P.M.
Greg stepped into the shabby motel room and locked the door, reaching into his pocket and whipping out the microcassette recorder.
Fear was a great motivator. Brian Stratford had done exactly as he'd been told.
The pieces were rapidly falling into place. His improvised scheme, thought up solo and at the eleventh hour, was about to yield jackpot results.
With the kid stashed in a trailer on a Walker Development construction site, as well as the fact that all the arrangements had been made in Walker's name, Philip Walker was well and duly screwed. He was going down for the kidnapping and all the crimes connected to it
And the only person who'd heard enough of the truth to upset the apple cart was in a coma, unable to share her suspicions.
He frowned, remembering the white panic on Julia's face when he'd veered Stratford's convertible straight at her and knocked her down. That part still haunted him. He wasn't a killer. And he certainly hadn't wanted to kill Julia. But what choice did he have? He had to shut her up fast, before she told any of the Stratfords what she'd overheard.
Well, the fates had been kind—to his conscience and to Julia. She was in a coma, which left hope for recovery. At the same time, the hospital report said she wasn't going to wake up any time soon. That served his purpose to a tee. All he needed was seventeen hours. Then he'd be gone, and she could open her eyes and sing out her suspicions to the Stratfords and the whole damned Leaf Brook police force. He'd be in Switzerland. He'd renounce his American citizenship, and extradition would be out of the question.
It would be smooth sailing for him.
His optimism resurged with a vengeance.
The Walker Development jet was reserved and would be fueled and ready for a noon departure. His living arrangements in Lucerne had been finalized. Just one night separated him and a lifetime of affluence and freedom.
He'd make his second call to Stephen Stratford tomorrow morning at nine sharp. He'd reiterate his demands: five million dollars in Brian's sports bag, to be left at the airport at eleven-thirty on the dot. With one slight change in venue, just in case the mayor had decided to play hero by arranging some sort of ambush at the previously designated alcove. No chance of that, not with the updated instructions he was going to issue. Nope. The five million would be right there in the parking lot, nestled securely in the mayor's Explorer, a mere sprint away from Walker's private jet. He'd have plenty of time to stop off in the main departure lounge and stuff the envelope he'd brought into the hands of some skycap looking to make twenty bucks, before he picked up his cash and jetted off to freedom.
But not to get ahead of himself. First came tomorrow's phone call. He had to be sure the Stratfords were ready. And he had to put the icing on the cake by playing the tape for them.
Dropping onto the creaky motel bed, he glanced at his voice scrambler, remembering the terror in Stephen Stratford's voice during the first phone call. The second call would be even more agonizing.
The rush of power felt great. So did thoughts of the life that awaited him.
A self-satisfied smile curved his lips. He'd always been good at making money. But this time he'd really stepped in it.
* * *
31
April 16, 8:25 a.m.
It was morning.
Brian's tummy gave a sick flip-flop. Today was the day something was gonna happen. The man in the ski mask had said so when he shoved the tape recorder in his face last night. He'd said Brian's dad would be paying a lot of money to get him back today. He'd made Brian talk into the tape recorder and say how scared he was.
He hadn't had to fake it. He was scared. His kidnapper had been rougher than usual last night. Meaner, too. He'd muttered something about how the mayor had better cooperate or else. Then he'd reached around, grabbed Brian's arms to make sure the ropes were nice and tight, and stomped out of the trailer.
Brian didn't want to think about what "or else" meant.
It had stayed dark outside forever. He'd finally fallen asleep but only for a little while. Even then, he'd had awful dreams. He'd jerked awake, all sweaty and shaking. For a minute, he thought he was gonna be sick. Luckily, he hadn't been. But he wanted his mom, he hurt everywhere, and he had to fight really hard not to bawl his head off.
What if no one ever came to get him?
Somewhere outside, a twig snapped. Then another.
Br
ian's head shot up. Someone was there. No, it was a couple of someones. A man's voice, then a different man's voice. Was one of them his kidnapper? It didn't sound like him, but Brian couldn't tell. They were talking really low and only a few words at a time. It didn't sound as if they were talking to each other. They were both talking at the same time, and then voices were coming from two different places—one from behind the trailer, the other from around front.
The voices got closer. Brian could make out their words now. He heard his name. Then he heard the static. And suddenly, he realized they were coming for him.
He started screaming at the top of his lungs.
8:45 am.
You could hear a pin drop in Julia's hospital room.
And not because the room was unoccupied. To the contrary, it was full.
Julia was up and dressed, unable to lie in bed a moment longer. Meredith was perched outside the door, Connor was pacing the floor, and Stephen and Nancy were huddled near the window.
The two of them had spent the night in the hospital, in the room right next door to Julia's. Louis had checked Nancy over thoroughly, verifying that there were no lasting effects from her ordeal. Physically, she could have gone home, but neither she nor Stephen could bear to do that Not when Patricia Avalon was using Julia's hospital room as the FBI's central information point. And not when news could come at any time, news they were praying for.
Stephen had gone home long enough to pick up some clothes for Nancy and to program his private line so that all calls would be transferred automatically to his cell phone. Before that, Patricia had spent a full hour with him and Nancy, getting additional facts and trying to assuage their fears. The latter proved to be futile. There were too many details she couldn't reveal and too many guarantees she couldn't make. True, it seemed logical enough that Greg wouldn't do anything drastic—he had no idea that Julia was conscious or that Nancy had been rescued and knew the identity of her assailant. As for silencing Brian, it seemed equally logical that he wouldn't do that, even if the worst happened and Brian recognized him. Why should he? By eliminating the chance of extradition, he'd eliminate the chance of prosecution. So it would cease to matter. But Nancy argued back that Greg was unstable, that anyone who'd run Julia down in cold blood couldn't be counted on to behave rationally.