“It’ll just be a little longer,” he told Alice.
When the program returned a valid Facebook password, he tried it on the Bank West website. It didn’t work. Then he tried it on Gmail, and it did. He requested a new password from Bank West, clicked the link they sent to Gmail, and logged in.
Liam had three accounts at that bank. Transferring the money out of them was a piece of cake.
Next.
He opened the Greenwire Trust website. From the look of it, the company appeared to specialize in alternative energy investments. Rick tried the Facebook login again. It didn’t work there, either. He hadn’t expected it would. But he hit a snag when he went to the password reset: Greenwire insisted on sending a code to the registered cellphone. That was going to be a problem, and he had five more financial institutions to break into if he wanted to empty out all of Liam’s accounts. Rick needed another way.
He looked over at Alice and had an idea.
He called Liam’s cellphone, but it rolled over straight to voicemail. The phone must be off. Rick got up, crossed the room, and knelt in front of Alice so she could see his face. “Do you have any way to reach your father?”
She whined, mumbled something Rick couldn’t understand.
“What?”
She repeated herself, speaking in an exaggerated way. “Nooo.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
Alice shook her head as best she could.
“Let’s make sure of that, shall we?” Rick searched Alice for her cellphone, then browsed to a contact labeled “Dad.” It had two numbers. One he had called and the second looked familiar. Was it his imagination—a random series of digits to which he was wrongly applying significance? He didn’t think so.
Rick looked through his own call log and found the number. This was the call that had come in when he was at the nursing home. He remembered seeing it on his way out of Heartland. He wondered what Liam had wanted, then decided he didn’t care.
Liam Parker
Liam was back in the chair, waiting for the TSA agents to return, expecting them to come with police in tow. A tremor worked at his hands. He clasped them together and held them in his lap. This was not how things were supposed to go down.
Liam’s cell phone vibrated against his thigh. He pulled it out of his pocket and didn’t hesitate to answer. At this point, what did it matter?
“Listen to me,” said the caller.
Liam knew who it was. “Rick.” For a second, he forgot about the TSA agents and the locked door and the camera overhead. He stopped shaking. Even the room he was in faded into mere background noise, no more significant than the hum of warm air being pushed through the vents. “What’s going on? Why did you give me an ID with your name on it? How do you know Elise?”
Rick didn’t answer. Instead, he began listing off the names of the financial institutions Liam used. “Greenwire. Fidelity. MicroTrust. Bank of America. . . .”
“Wait,” Liam said, talking over him. “What does—”
“I want the username and password for each.”
It only took a second for Liam to figure out what this phone call was about. Rick was planning to empty his accounts and, if Liam had heard him right, he had found all of them. Including those used by ConnectPlus. It would leave Liam and his firm penniless. “You can’t do that.”
“Say hello.” Rick’s voice sounded strangely far away, and the words were so out of place that Liam was unable to make sense of them—until he heard Alice’s voice.
“Dad! Dad, he’s got a knife!”
Then Rick was back. “Give me the logins.”
Oh, God. Rick had his daughter. Suddenly, the money no longer seemed important. Liam didn’t know every login off the top of his head. But he told Rick where he could find them. They were buried deep on Liam’s computer, in a folder called “Family Photos.” The file was encrypted, and for that file Liam was able to give him the password.
He expected Rick to say something about releasing his daughter after accessing the file. But after thirty seconds or so, he simply hung up.
Liam didn’t know what that meant, but it terrified him. He tried calling back several times. Each call went straight to voicemail.
Rick had been planning this for a while, Liam realized. He’d been writing down things Liam had said in that notepad as far back as Liam could remember. They hadn’t seemed important at the time. Liam did not construct his most important passwords using common memory tricks. But they were exactly the kinds of things you’d want to know if you were going to hack into someone’s online accounts.
Was Elise involved? Had Rick killed her? Was he going to kill Alice too?
If Liam tried to tell the TSA agents or the police about his phone call, he doubted they’d believe him. Perhaps eventually someone would listen—maybe even Bash—but it wouldn’t be until after he was taken to jail. That would be okay if Liam was only concerned about the money. It might not be soon enough for his daughter.
When Liam had run from Bash at his office, he’d told himself he was doing it to find the killer. But, on some level, he knew he was just running. He never had a real chance of figuring out who had killed Elise. That was who Liam was—a runner. He wouldn’t have started ConnectPlus without David; he wouldn’t have had the courage. Despite what he told himself, he had known Catherine was unhappy in their marriage. It was part of the reason he stayed at the office later and later. He was always running.
Liam couldn’t run anymore, though. He couldn’t get on the next international flight, even if that were an option. He had to save Alice. But how was he going to get out of here? And, more important, where was she?
Richard Hawthorne
Rick worked his way through each of Liam’s accounts. When he was done, he pressed *67 on his phone to hide his number and placed one more call. It rang several times before Chris Bell answered.
“Who is this?” Chris demanded.
“You’re looking for Richard Hawthorne, right?” Chris didn’t say anything, so Rick continued. “You’ll find him at the Best Western on State Street.” He gave Chris the room number and hung up.
Rick didn’t know if Liam was still at the hotel—Liam had been doing some digging and Rick didn’t think he could have uncovered his real name from the room. Actually, Rick wasn’t sure how he’d managed to do that no matter where he might have gone, but it had only emphasized the importance of sowing chaos where he could until he was out of harm’s way. Sending Chris after Liam—something he planned to do at this point, anyway—was his only play.
There was one last decision to make before he left: What should he do about Alice?
Liam Parker
It didn’t take long for Liam to figure out that Alice and Rick were at his condo. That was why Rick hadn’t said anything after Liam had told him where to locate the file with the passwords. No “This better be the truth or else.” He didn’t need to. He’d found the file while Liam was on the phone, opened it, and hung up.
Liam had to get out of here.
He let the tremor in his hands spread throughout his body, then exaggerated it. He slid off the chair and collapsed onto the floor in spasms. He hoped it looked like he was having a seizure.
It took almost a minute before a pair of TSA agents came to check on him. Liam was starting to wonder if there was anybody behind that camera. One of the agents stayed by the door. The other kneeled down beside Liam and grabbed his arm. “Hey, buddy, are you all right?”
Liam didn’t answer. He just kept shaking.
The agent cursed. “Go get help.”
Liam heard footsteps as the second agent scurried away and the metallic click as the door automatically locked. This was it. Now or never.
Be brave.
Liam slammed his fist into the soft flesh between the agent’s legs (something he would have never thought himself capable of before) and yanked the badge off his belt as he went down.
Liam was on his feet in a flash. He h
eld the badge up to the scanner beside the door. The lock released with the same metallic click he’d heard seconds ago. He ran without looking back. He had to assume TSA agents, and probably police officers, were after him. Even if they weren’t within sight, they were watching him on the security cameras throughout the airport. Blending into the crowd was not an option. He wouldn’t be safe until he was in a cab.
Christopher Bell
Emma and Chris were sitting on the sofa watching a Jennifer Aniston rom-com on Netflix. A fire was burning in the fireplace, the lights turned low. It was a quiet evening, until the phone rang.
Emma gave him a look that said, Don’t answer it. He couldn’t help himself. A ringing phone at this hour could mean a tip on the Asian markets.
Chris answered without looking at the Caller ID. Emma’s eyes narrowed to angry slits and, hoping to appease her to some degree, he feigned annoyance. “Who is this?”
“You’re looking for Richard Hawthorne, right?”
Chris’s pulse quickened. His anger level shot up to a ten upon hearing Rick’s name. He tried to figure out who the caller was. Arkin’s voice was raspy, with a hint of a Southern drawl; it wasn’t him. Chris wondered briefly if it might be somebody on the police force, but quickly ruled that out, too.
Emma, just to be spiteful, turned up the volume on the TV.
“You’ll find him at the Best Western on State Street,” the caller continued as Chris pressed a finger to his other ear so he could hear. Then the caller gave Chris the room number and hung up.
Chris let the phone fall away. He had no trouble processing the stacks of business documents he read every day and analyzing them for clues on future stock performance, but this was something he couldn’t quite get his mind around. Why would somebody—a stranger—call him and tell him where he could find Rick? Who besides Emma and Arkin would even know Chris was looking for him?
“Anything important?” Emma asked. Her question was insincere, filled with sarcasm.
“Did you talk to somebody about Rick? Do you understand what kind of trouble I could get in if anybody finds out what I have done?”
“Of course I didn’t. What the hell is going on?”
“Someone just called and told me where I could find him.”
Emma paused the movie. “Are you serious?”
Chris nodded, and thought about it a little more. He decided he only had two options. He could either follow up on the anonymous tip or let it slip away, fretting about who it was from. And what did it matter who it was from if it turned out to be true? Worst case, it wouldn’t lead him anywhere but right back to where he was now.
He hopped up, moved to the closet to put on his shoes. “I have to go.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? They didn’t say?”
Chris shrugged on a jacket. “No, they didn’t.”
“That’s—”
“Strange. I know. But if we want to find Rick before the police this might be our last chance.”
Arkin was more than happy to accompany Chris Bell to the Best Western. For a price. Chris, who didn’t want to make the trip alone, agreed to pay it.
They parked in a lot in front of the hotel.
“This place looks sort of trashy,” Chris said. It certainly wasn’t somewhere he would stay.
Arkin shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”
The men followed the signs to Rick’s room and knocked, each of them standing to one side of the door so they couldn’t be seen through the peephole. Chris listened carefully for any sounds of movement. There were none.
“Are you sure he’s staying here?” Arkin said.
“Let’s find out.”
They returned to the front desk. A receptionist in a suit and tie asked how he could help.
“We need to leave a message for one of your guests.”
“Certainly. Who?”
“Rick Hawthorne. He hasn’t checked out yet, has he?”
The receptionist looked something up on his computer. “Nope. Not yet. What message would you like to leave?”
So, whoever the caller was, he’d been telling the truth. Chris glanced at Arkin, then said, “You know what, I don’t want to bother him. We’ll catch up with him at the office tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself,” the receptionist said with a smile.
Chris turned, exited the lobby. Arkin followed his lead. Neither of them spoke until they were back in the car.
“What do you want to do?” Arkin said.
Chris turned on the engine. He cranked up the heat and slid his seat back to make himself comfortable. There was only one thing they could do. “Wait.”
Liam Parker
Liam bolted past the baggage carousels. Cops fell in behind him, coming out of this door or that, appearing from places he wouldn’t have anticipated. Twice they almost grabbed him. But luck had been on his side, and, so far, he was still a free man.
Then a kid dragging a suitcase as big as he was walked directly into Liam’s path, and it was too late for Liam to stop. He tumbled over the bag, rolled, scrambled back to his feet. The kid screamed and his mother shouted. Liam couldn’t make out what she was saying. He thought it was something about slowing down, paying attention, looking where he was going.
He passed through a pair of sliding glass doors, saw a line of taxis idling along the curb, and hopped in the closest one.
“What’s the rush?” the driver asked, turning to face him.
“Take me to 1712 Walker Avenue,” Liam said, out of breath.
The driver shrugged and pulled away from the airport. Liam looked over his shoulder and saw a flock of officers, bigger than he’d expected, coming out of the same sliding glass doors he had. He instinctively slid down in his seat, even though he knew there was no way they could see him.
Once the driver pulled onto the interstate, Liam relaxed a little and sighed with relief. A momentary reprieve as the stress of one situation gave way to the stress of the next. Even as the air was exiting his lungs, all his muscles tensed back up as his attention shifted entirely to saving his daughter.
Over the next twenty minutes, the driver made idle chitchat and Liam did his best to play along, claiming he was here to see family and in a hurry because his flight was delayed. He didn’t want to raise any more red flags than he already had. The last thing he needed was the driver watching him in the rearview mirror, wondering what sort of passenger had gotten into his cab.
As they closed in on State Street, Liam realized they were going to go right past the Best Western he’d been staying in. It would only take an extra minute to run in and get Anita’s gun. Liam didn’t expect he would be any more comfortable handling the weapon now than he had been earlier. He could fake it though, and it seemed like a good idea to take the Beretta with him. Who knew what he’d be up against when he came face-to-face with Rick?
Liam asked the driver to stop by the hotel, claiming he wanted to check in. When the taxi driver pulled into the Best Western parking lot, Liam got out and hurried to his room.
It took two tries to open the safe. He slid the gun into his inside jacket pocket and ran back down the hall and through the lobby. On his way out, the receptionist said, “You’re Mr. Hawthorne, aren’t you?”
The name didn’t register at first. When it did, it didn’t even register as Liam’s alias. Hawthorne. Richard. Liam stopped. “What’d you say?” Then he remembered. “Are you looking for me?”
“You’re Mr. Hawthorne?”
“Yes.”
“Your co-workers already left.”
“What?”
“If you’re looking for them, I just wanted to let you know they’re gone. They said they’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”
Liam didn’t like the way that sounded. He looked suspiciously at the receptionist as he backed away, wondering if he might be involved in all this. Rick had put Liam up in this hotel. Maybe they were working toge
ther. It was crazy, paranoid thinking; he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.
Liam shook off the idea and ran. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He had to save his daughter.
Christopher Bell
Arkin tapped Chris’s shoulder and pointed to a taxi pulling into the Best Western parking lot. “Look. Could that be him?”
Chris squinted, saw the man get out of the cab. The man didn’t turn around, but he was wearing the same green army jacket Rick had been wearing earlier in the day. “It’s him.”
“What do you want to do?” Arkin said.
Chris originally planned to repeat the knock-and-wait strategy they’d implemented earlier. But he had also expected when Rick returned to his room he would stay for a while. The waiting taxi suggested otherwise. If Liam got back in that taxi, they might lose him in traffic. Since they weren’t the bad guys here, there was no need for them to be subtle. “Let’s go get him.”
They got out of Chris’s car at the same time, their doors shutting in unison as if the move had been choreographed. As they crossed the parking lot, Chris studied the hotel. He thought about where Rick’s room was. He saw a side entrance that would get them there faster. “That way.”
The men went through the door and caught a glimpse of Rick at the end of the hall. Then he was gone. He had disappeared into the lobby and was no doubt headed back to the cab. Just like Chris and Arkin had gotten out of the car in unison, they broke into a run in unison.
Chris pulled ahead. He was using every ounce of energy he had to push his legs faster and then faster still. Rick had outmaneuvered him when he stole Chris’s wallet. He wasn’t getting away a second time. They rounded the same corner that led to the lobby and Chris saw the thief stepping through the sliding glass door.
A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trust Page 40