“No.”
“He can duck down in the back.”
“No,” I said again.
Tickner tried another avenue. “Or better yet—we’ve done this before—we tell the kidnapper that you can’t drive. Hell, you’re just out of the hospital. We have one of our men drive instead. We say it’s your cousin.”
I frowned and looked at Regan. “Didn’t you say you thought my sister might be involved?”
“It’s possible, yes.”
“Don’t you think she’d know if this guy was a cousin or not?”
Tickner and Regan both hesitated and then nodded in unison. “Good point,” Regan said.
Lenny and I exchanged a glance. These were the professionals I was trusting with Tara’s life. The thought was not comforting. I started for the door.
Tickner put a hand on my shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“Where the hell do you think?”
“Sit down, Dr. Seidman.”
“No time,” I countered. “I have to start heading up there. There could be traffic.”
“We can clear the traffic.”
“Oh, and that won’t look suspicious,” I said.
“I highly doubt he’s going to follow you from here.”
I spun on him. “And you’d be willing to risk your child’s life on that?”
He paused just long enough.
“You don’t get it,” I went on, in his face now. “I don’t care about the money or if they get away. I just want my daughter back.”
“We understand that,” Tickner said, “but there is something you’re forgetting.”
“What?”
“Please,” he said. “Sit down.”
“Look, do me a favor, okay? Just let me stand. I’m a doctor. I know the delivering-bad-news drill as well as anyone. Don’t try to play me.”
Tickner held his palms up and said, “Fair enough.” He proceeded to take a long, lingering breath. Stall tactic. I was not in the mood.
“So what is it?” I said.
“Whoever did this,” he began, “they shot you. They killed your wife.”
“I understand that.”
“No, I don’t think you do. Think about it a second. We can’t just let you go in on your own. Whoever did this tried to end your life. They shot you twice and left you for dead.”
“Marc,” Regan said, moving closer, “we threw some wild theories at you before. The problem is, that’s all they are. Theories. We don’t know what these guys are really after. Maybe this is just a simple kidnapping, but if it is, it’s not like any we’ve seen before.” His interrogation face was gone now, replaced with an aw-shucks, eyebrow-raised attempt at openness. “What we do know with certainty is that they tried to kill you. You don’t try to kill the parents, if you’re just after ransom.”
“Maybe they planned on getting the money from my father-in-law,” I said.
“Then why did they wait so long?”
I had no answer.
“Maybe,” Tickner went on, “this isn’t about kidnapping at all. At least, not at first. Maybe that’s become a sideline. Maybe you and your wife were the targets all along. And maybe they want to finish the job.”
“You think this is a setup?”
“It’s a strong possibility, yes.”
“So what are you advising?”
Tickner took that one. “Don’t go alone. Buy us some time so we can prepare properly. Let them call you back.”
I looked at Lenny. He saw it and nodded. “That’s not possible,” Lenny said.
Tickner turned at him hard. “With all due respect, your client is in grave danger here.”
“So is my daughter,” I said. Simple words. This decision was a no-brainer when you kept it simple. I pulled away and started toward my car. “Keep your people at a distance.”
Chapter 5
There was notraffic, so I made it to the mall with plenty of time to spare. I turned the engine off and sat back. I glanced around. I figured that the feds and cops were probably still on me, but I couldn’t see them. That was a good thing, I guess.
Now what?
No idea. I waited some more. I fiddled with the radio, but nothing caught my attention. I turned on the CD player/tape deck. When Donald Fagan of Steely Dan began singing “Black Cow,” I felt a slight jerk. I had not listened to this particular tape since, what, my college days. Why did Monica have it? And then, with a renewed pang, I realized that Monica had been the last to use this car, that this may have been the last song she ever heard.
I watched the shoppers prepare for mall entry. I concentrated on the young mothers; the way they flipped open the back door of the minivan; the way they unfolded the baby strollers midair with a magician’s flourish; the way they struggled to release their offspring from safety seats that reminded me of Buzz Aldrin’s onApollo 11 ; the way the mothers skirted forward, heads high, smartly pressing the remote control that slid the minivan door to a close.
The mothers, all of them, looked so blasé. Their children were with them. Their safety, what with the five-star side-collision rating and NASA-sleek car seats, was a given. And here I sat with a bag of ransom money, hoping to get my daughter back. The thin line. I wanted to roll down the window and shout out a warning.
We were getting close to drop time. The sun beat down on my windshield. I reached for my sunglasses but then thought better of it. I don’t know why. Would putting on my sunglasses somehow make the kidnapper uneasy? No, I don’t think so. Or maybe it would. Better to just leave them off. Take no chances.
My shoulders bunched up. I kept trying to look around without, for some odd reason, looking conspicuous about it. Whenever someone parked near me or walked anywhere in the vicinity of my car, my stomach tightened and I wondered:
Was Tara nearby?
We were at the two-hour mark now. I wanted this over. The next few minutes would decide everything. I knew that. Calm. I needed to stay calm. Tickner’s warning reverberated in my head. Would someone simply walk up to my car and blow my brains out?
It was, I realized, a very real possibility.
When the cell phone rang, I started forward. I brought it to my ear and barked a too-quick hello.
The robotic voice said, “Pull out by the west exit.”
I was confused. “Which way is west?”
“Follow the signs for Route Four. Take the overpass. We’re watching. If someone follows, we disappear. Keep the phone near your ear.”