After an hour or so, Austin muted the screen. Governor Flores had just finished speaking. He had assured the public they would find out who had done this. He had urged everyone to stay calm. And, of course, thoughts and prayers for the victims and their families.
There was nothing else new. The information cycle was running on repeat.
They talked for a while. It was no doubt the same sort of conversation people all across the country were having at that moment. They tried to assure each other that Flores was right, that those responsible for the bombings would be found. They told themselves they were lucky to still be alive.
At some point, Austin’s cat jumped on the sofa and curled up beside Dylan, which surprised Connor.
“Huh. That bastard never takes to anyone,” Austin said.
Dylan smiled down at the cat, began stroking his back. She turned to Connor. “Can I . . .” She hesitated, like she was embarrassed, then blurted out, “Can I use your phone?”
“Yeah, sure,” Connor said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Give it a shot. Why?”
“I . . .” Now she looked away. “I need to call my parents and let them know I’m all right.”
Connor nodded and handed it to her. If he was in her position, he would want to call his parents, too.
The conversation was short. She told them she was safe and that, yes, she could stay where she was until everything calmed down.
When she passed the phone back, Connor saw he had a voicemail from a California number. It wasn’t any of his friends, and he doubted it was anything important—probably a telemarketer—but he checked it anyway, just in case.
“Connor, hi. It’s Isaiah. From Uncovered. I’m back in California. I saw what happened on the news. Shit, I hope you’re all right. If you get this, there’s something you should know. The show aired tonight, and we got a call. Got a lot of them, actually. Mostly a bunch of crackpots. You know, the kind that call in Elvis sightings and crap like that. There was one, though, that I think might be something. Seems there was a man in New York on business. He drove in from Boston, if I remember right. Anyway, he says he saw the same van that you saw. Probably. He was at a BP gas station filling up when a rusty blue panel van pulled up to the pump opposite him. He remembered it because something about the driver made him nervous. He couldn’t say what. At any rate, the point is, we’ve got a description. Skinny guy. Forties. Blond hair to his shoulders. It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s something. And I bet, when I call the police, they’ll be able to get a license plate also. I think we might have found your guy. Here’s hoping, anyway. Call me back when you get this, all right?”
Isaiah had never told Connor when the show would air, but that was hardly the most important thing about the message. It wasn’t even the fact that they had a lead they could forward to the NYPD. It was the subject’s description. Skinny. Blond hair to his shoulders. Okay, it wasn’t much of a description, but there was only person Connor knew who matched it.
Austin.
Connor thought back to the shushing gesture he had made while they were watching the news and how it had reminded him of the gesture the kidnapper had made when he’d returned for his phone.
“Everything all right?” Austin asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Connor put the phone back in his pocket. “Nothing important.”
Think. What are you going to do? He tried to keep his expression neutral, keenly aware that Austin was looking at him. Olivia. He should call her, tell her what he’d found out. She might be able to help.
But not here.
Connor excused himself, claiming he needed to use the bathroom. Then, behind the bathroom’s closed door, he scrolled through his call history until he found Olivia’s number and dialed. The call went straight to voicemail. Either her phone was off or the network was jammed up again.
He weighed the idea of leaving a message and decided the bathroom was far enough from the living room to make it worth the risk. Unless Austin was standing right outside the door, there was no way he would hear him. Still, he turned on the water and spoke softly in hopes of drowning out his voice. Better safe than sorry.
He repeated the information Isaiah had left on his voicemail, then added his suspicions about Austin. He also gave her Austin’s address to make sure she could find him quickly if she needed to.
When he finished, he ended the call and considered his remaining options. There was only one way out of the apartment, and that was the front door. He could probably make it if he ran. But that would mean leaving Olin and Dylan behind. Since they didn’t know what Austin had done, they wouldn’t move as fast. And once Austin figured out that Connor knew who he was, what would he do to them?
For now, Connor had only one choice. He returned to the living room, fell back into the armchair like nothing had happened. He could feel his hands shaking, so he kept them in his lap, hoping Austin wouldn’t notice.
Olin and Dylan certainly didn’t seem to.
Connor tried to pay attention to the conversation, figuring the best thing he could do until Oliva showed up was to blend in. Play the role Austin expected him to. But how long would it take for her to get the message, let alone get here?
There was no way he was waiting around until tomorrow. Even though right now nobody thought they could sleep, eventually somebody would say they were tired. Then Austin would pull out the sofa bed and Connor would be expected to retire to his room. And what if he did fall asleep? Would he wake up? And if he did wake up, where would he wake up?
He could feel himself spinning out.
Even if Austin had abducted his parents—because, he reminded himself, that was still an assumption based on fairly weak evidence—he was as safe here tonight as he had been any of the other nights. He needed to stay calm.
Why would Austin abduct his parents, anyway? It didn’t make sense.
“You all right?” Austin asked.
Shit. “Yeah. Just—it’s everything that’s going on, you know.”
That was it. He had to figure out one way or another whether Austin was the kidnapper. But how? If he could just find the Taser or the driving gloves, that would be evidence enough. But he couldn’t just get up and start searching Austin’s apartment. For something like that, he needed Austin out of the way. Asleep, maybe.
Then the answer dawned on him: asleep.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he casually got up.
“How much do you have to pee?” Dylan said.
“I just want to get my laptop. Maybe there’s more online about what happened.”
Everyone seemed to buy the excuse.
In the guest room, he took the bottle of Ambien out of his backpack and transferred a pill from it to his pocket. He told himself not to look over his shoulder, not to draw attention, but he couldn’t help it. Fortunately, much like the bathroom, nobody would be able to see what he was doing unless they had followed him into the hall.
Then he grabbed the laptop and returned to the living room. Once back in his seat, he powered the computer up and made a show of looking for more news. He even made a point of reading several articles out loud when Olin asked if he had found anything.
The articles contained nothing they didn’t already know, which he summed up by saying, “It’s just more of the same,” before closing the laptop and putting it on the floor beside him. “I’m going to get some more coffee. Anyone want some?”
Austin drank a lot of coffee, and Connor was counting on him saying yes. He did.
“I’ll make it,” Connor said, when Austin started to get up.
He went into the kitchen, filled two mugs with water, and put them in the microwave. While he waited, he used the blunt end of a spoon to crush the Ambien on the counter. This time, he had every reason to look over his shoulder. If he got caught, he would have no believable explanation for what he was doing, and the sooner he knew someone was watching him, the better.
He returned to the living room with the coffe
es, handed a mug to Austin, and tensed up as Austin took his first sip. Connor was counting on the naturally bitter taste of the coffee to mask the pill, and—thank God—it seemed to be working.
He wasn’t sure how long it took before Austin started getting sleepy. It seemed like forever. Long enough for Connor to worry his plan wasn’t going to work.
Eventually, though, Austin’s head dipped forward. He jerked it back, looked down into his coffee cup like he was confused. “Instant’s definitely not the same as the real thing. I think I need to get some sleep.” He got up slowly, held out his hands like he was worried he might fall back into the chair, then tried to head toward his bedroom.
After a couple of steps, he turned to Connor. “What did you do?”
“What are you talking about? You’re just tired, like you said.”
Austin’s hands had balled into fists. His teeth clenched. He took a step towards Connor, but his balance faltered. He grabbed hold of the back of the sofa to keep himself from falling over.
Dylan and Olin jumped up, as confused by what was happening as Austin had been seconds earlier.
“This wasn’t another one of your stupid plans, was it?” Olin said to Connor.
“I don’t know what’s happening, I swear. I thought he was just tired.” Connor likewise got out of his seat and moved to the other side of the room. “You need to relax, Austin. I don’t know what you think I did, but I swear I didn’t do anything.”
Austin turned. Again, it was slow, his balance even less reliable than it had been a moment ago. “You’re making a mistake,” he slurred. Then he dropped to his knees.
CHAPTER 49
The power had not yet returned when Olivia put Erin to bed. Normally, her daughter slept with a nightlight. Since that wasn’t an option, Olivia placed a flashlight in Erin’s closet and cracked the door so it let just about the right amount of light into her room.
That, however, did not stop Erin from tiptoeing into Olivia’s room an hour later, saying she was scared. On any other night, Olivia would ask her what she was afraid of, help her reason through her fear, so she could go back to sleep in her own room. It was a part of growing up. That didn’t seem like the right move here. Erin had been through a lot today. The truth was, they both had. The trial had been exhausting. And then there was that conversation with Roland.
Olivia wanted to snuggle with Erin as much as Erin wanted to snuggle with her. So she pulled back her covers, invited her daughter into the king-size bed, and they stayed wrapped up tight until the phone woke Olivia up sometime later.
Erin was a sound sleeper. She didn’t move when the phone rang or when Olivia pulled her arm out from underneath her daughter’s head, sat up, and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Still, Olivia carried the phone into the hall before answering.
“Ms. Forbes,” said Oldrich. “I have some troubling news.”
CHAPTER 50
Connor stayed where he was until Austin passed out, stretched out on his stomach on the living room floor. The only thing he said, over and over again, was, “You’re making a mistake.” It became a sort of gauge Connor could use to tell how close Austin was to falling sleep.
At some point, Dylan suggested they call an ambulance. Olin responded by saying they would be unlikely to get one anytime soon. Connor simply shook his head no.
“But he might be in serious trouble. We should at least try. Connor, give me your phone.”
“He’s not,” Connor said.
That seemed to surprise her more than Olin. She asked, “How do you know?” At the same time, Olin said, “You told us you didn’t do anything to his drink.”
Connor gave him a look but said nothing. The look was enough.
For a moment, Connor worried Olin would charge out of the apartment, angry or afraid or maybe both. Instead, Olin walked to the window, cursing under his breath. After a few moments, he turned around to face Connor again, arms crossed over his chest. Connor could tell he wanted to say something. But if he wasn’t going to speak, Connor wasn’t going to make him. This would all make sense soon enough.
Connor nudged Austin with his foot once he was sure Austin was out. When he didn’t get a response, he told Olin and Dylan about the call from Isaiah. “I have to know if it’s him.”
Olin was less annoyed than he had been before. He moved closer to Austin, looking at him in a way that made Connor think he was trying to figure out whether the man was physically capable of the crime. “Well, since you’ve already gone to the trouble of drugging him, I guess we’d better find out.”
“So you think this is the kidnapper?” Dylan said, still processing the news.
“You don’t need to be scared. He can’t hurt you if—”
“Scared? Are you kidding? This is freakin’ awesome!”
Connor wasn’t sure how he felt about her response and decided to chalk it up to Dylan’s age. “All right, well, I don’t know how long we have, so let’s see what we can find.”
“What are we looking for?” Dylan asked as she headed to a nearby bookshelf. She started pulling off books one at time and riffling through their pages before dumping them on the floor.
“I don’t know. If he’s our guy, he obviously doesn’t have our parents here. Look for a pair of leather driving gloves. A Taser. Just let me know if you come across anything unusual.” It was almost the exact same thing he’d told Olin when they had started searching Dylan’s house. But it had served them well then, so hopefully it would serve them well here, too.
Olin went to the kitchen to start his search there.
“We have to assume he could wake up at any time,” Connor called after him. “Be as fast as you can.” Then he went to Austin’s bedroom.
It was the one room in the apartment he had never been in. He had never even opened the door—which, Connor now realized, Austin always kept closed. Did he keep it locked, also? Connor tried to turn the knob. Apparently, he did.
Austin might as well have hung a flashing red sign over the door that read “Secrets Galore.”
But how was he going to get inside? Connor could hack his way into a computer, but a locked door was another matter entirely.
Austin had to have a key. Connor tried to remember seeing him use it. He couldn’t. No surprise. Austin would have been careful not to draw attention to the locked door. So, time for a game of hide and seek. If Connor wanted to keep a room in his house locked, where would he keep the key?
The most obvious place was Austin’s keyring. Since Austin always kept his keyring in his pocket—never in a drawer or on a table, not even for a minute—that seemed like a safe assumption.
It was also the last place Connor wanted to look.
He returned to the living room. Austin was still sprawled out on his stomach near the sofa, only now he was snoring. To get to his pockets, Connor would have to turn him over. Getting that close to the man made him nervous, but what choice did he have?
He dropped to one knee, and Dylan, who was now searching the TV stand’s cabinets, said, “What are you doing?”
“I need to get his keys.”
“Why?”
“His bedroom door is locked.”
As far as Connor could see, Dylan had found only a few DVDs inside the cabinets. That didn’t surprise him. Austin didn’t like clutter.
“No shit? That probably means there’s something inside.”
Connor resisted the urge to respond with the same kind of wisecrack remark he might have gotten from her.
“Let me see,” she said, already making her way to Austin’s bedroom door.
Connor stood up and followed. “It’s a locked door. What are you going—”
“It’s just a simple pop lock, I think,” she said, looking at the handle.
Connor wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but it sounded like she was referring to the same kind of privacy lock he had seen on the guest bedroom door. “So? Unless you want to break it down, we’re still going to need the key.”
>
“Do you have a credit card?”
“You mean to tell me you know how to pick that lock?”
“There’s a room in our house we never use. And, if I’m right, there’s a lock on it just like this. My parents like to put Christmas presents in there and sometimes other things. Let’s just say they haven’t surprised me with a present in two years.”
Connor thought she might be overstating her skills, but there was no harm in letting her try. He pulled his Mastercard out of his wallet and handed it over.
Dylan went straight to work, wedging it between the door and the jamb, wiggling the handle.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Be patient.”
Olin joined them, perhaps drawn by the rattle. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Austin’s bedroom,” Connor said.
Then he, too, repeated the same sentiment that had crossed Connor’s and Dylan’s minds when they had learned about the locked door. “That looks promising.”
There was a whisper of a sound as the credit card slid further between the door and the jamb, and then the door glided open. “See?” Dylan said. “I told you. Patience.” She handed the credit card back to Connor.
All three stared into the bedroom as if it were still inaccessible, sealed off by some invisible wall. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about the space. A large bed had been centered along the back wall, the dressing tucked and folded in all the right places. A pair of nightstands made of reclaimed wood with brass handles sat on either side of it. A matching dresser on one side of the room. A closet, its door cracked open.
Like the rest of the apartment, everything was free of clutter. Really, of personal belongings or knickknacks of any sort.
At least it would be easy to search, Connor thought. He led the charge through the invisible wall, made a beeline for the closet. Dylan and Olin were still standing in the hall. “Come on, guys. Let’s get this done.”
In the walk-in, bare plastic racks clung to the walls. There wasn’t a single item of clothing in sight outside of the hamper sitting by the door. “That’s a bust,” he announced, as he exited.
A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trust Page 18