“If you push him too far, he can explode.”
“Of course, sure.” Todd rubbed his hands together, warming up to his proposal. “But with the way I want to do this, no one gets pushed, no one gets hurt. It’ll be a win-win for everyone.”
“A win-win? How?”
“I say we give him what we give some of the customers we really want to woo-an in-home, risk-free trial.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Check this out. The next time he calls you, we tell him we’ve pulled together the ransom payment. We arrange for the drop-off of the cash and the release of your family. At the drop-off, we give him a briefcase full of money.”
Corey stopped pacing. “How much money?”
“I think fifty thousand would do it.”
“I tried to talk him into that earlier. He wants five hundred thousand, Todd. Period.”
“And I want a Ferrari Spider, but if someone gives me the keys to a Corvette and says take it home, I’m not going to turn it down. Do you see what I’m saying here?”
Fists bunched on his waist, Corey said, “I think so.”
“This guy is a freakin’ FBI fugitive. He’s desperate, strapped for cash. He needs to get moving before the heat builds. Once he sees fifty grand staring him in the face, we’ll seal the deal-like our customers who fall in love with our system and go to contract after we give them a risk-free trial. With that much cash in hand, he’ll be happy to turn over your family and hit the road.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean, then what? You’ll have Simone and Jada back, this Leon guy goes back on the lam, and the Feds catch him later, maybe. But your headaches are over.”
Corey sat down again. He cracked his knuckles, thinking.
Todd could be right. In spite of his bravado and fast talk, Leon was a relatively small-time hood, limited by his innate impulsiveness to minor burglaries of homes and armed robberies of convenience stores; even the crime that had landed him on the FBI’s radar, as tragic as it had turned out, had netted him only thirty-five thousand dollars, and Corey was certain that was the most Leon had ever scored in one job. With fifty grand in his possession free and clear, he might turn over Simone and Jada, safe and unharmed.
But what if Leon wanted more money? What if, after they paid him, he didn’t go away like they hoped he would?
“It might not work,” Corey said. “Even if he releases my family after we pay him, he might come around again. That’s what thieves do, they’re greedy. They’ll hit the same spot over and over until it’s totally tapped out.”
Todd’s gaze was direct. “You have a gun, don’t you?”
Corey understood what he was getting at. He touched his hip, where his shirt concealed his revolver’s bulge.
“It’s right here,” he said.
“If he comes around again, I think you’ll be ready to deal with him a bit more aggressively,” Todd said softly. “An altercation between a violent fugitive and a devoted family man and entrepreneur, respected in his community, who kills the bad guy in self-defense? Write your own headline, Corey, but it’s all good for you.”
Corey knew he was right. If he was forced to gun down Leon in a fight, he would probably be hailed as a hero.
“It still seems like a big gamble,” Corey said.
“Life’s a gamble, man. One giant roulette wheel. One crazy hand of cards. One pull of the one-armed bandit. You’ve gotta roll the dice.”
“We’re taking about the lives of my wife and daughter, not a wild night in Vegas. I can’t afford to be wrong on this.”
“Most definitely, these are the highest stakes you could ever have.” Todd tapped the pencil against his chin. “Take some time to think it over. You’ve got until when to pay him? Friday afternoon?”
“Friday at five.”
“If I can help in any way at all, let me know. I’m here for you.” Todd grimaced. “I’m so sorry this is happening. You guys don’t deserve this shit. I don’t. . man, I don’t even want to imagine what your family’s going through right now with that psycho maniac holding them.”
Corey thought he had been keeping himself under control, but Todd’s words stirred up a deep, cold fear that compressed his heart like steel calipers. Muttering thanks, he hurried outside-he had to get outdoors into the fresh air or else he was going to explode.
23
Shedding tears, Simone knew from her professional experience, could often be cathartic, a means of expelling deep-seated emotional toxins and blockages. In her therapy practice, she aimed to create a warm, trusting environment in which her clients felt free to cry if they were so moved. In many cases, a healthy bout of purgative weeping led to greater self-awareness of one’s troubles-and, eventually, enhanced self-awareness led to healing.
After she gave in to her own tears, she felt cleansed, too. Liberated from pointless denials of her situation. Profoundly and sharply aware of her plight.
Now she could heal-by taking specific measures to get out.
Maybe fifteen minutes ago, soon after she had begun crying, Leon had abandoned her on the mattress in the bedroom. He tucked the folding chair under his arm, locked the door behind him, and barricaded the doorway on the other side with what sounded like a heavy piece of wood. He’d left without a word, his gaze unreadable, as if annoyed by her tears or preoccupied with other matters that required his attention.
He was an enigma to her. Why on earth did he think Corey could raise five hundred thousand dollars in two days? What was the real nature of Corey’s history with him? How long had he been planning to do this to them?
One thing of which she had no doubt whatsoever: he was dangerous. There was a hungry, reptilian gleam in his eyes when he looked at her that convinced her that he would not hesitate to hurt her. That he might even get a sick thrill out of it.
She would have to be careful with him.
As for the shady past he shared with Corey, why he had chosen them for this scheme, and why he believed Corey could pay the outrageous sum he was demanding-she had progressed no further in figuring out answers to those questions, and any answers she came up were likely to be wrong, so she avoided pondering them too much.
She would focus on what she could control. Her own thought processes. Her own actions. With the singular intention of merging thought and action to save Jada. Nothing else mattered.
Except for the occasional whisper of wind through eaves, the house was eerily quiet. She had not heard any noises from upstairs. She prayed her baby was fine and that Leon’s partner indeed obeyed his command to leave Jada untouched.
The alternative was just too horrifying to contemplate.
Her cheeks sticky with drying tears, she examined the handcuffs in her lap. They certainly weren’t the flimsy, bedroom-play variety: the heavy-duty silver chain was a couple of inches long, and the cuffs themselves were made of durable, nickel-plated steel. There was a keyhole in each restraint.
All she knew about escaping from handcuffs was what she had seen in movies. Perhaps she could have used a hairpin to pick the locks if she had one, but she didn’t. She had thin, delicate wrists, but when she tried to twist them through the cuffs, she succeeded only in sending hot rivets of agony down her forearms. The cuffs were cinched too tightly for her to maneuver free.
With effort, she got to her feet. Needles of pain threaded across her abdomen, the side of her face ached from when Leon had slapped her, and the knot on the back of her head felt as fat as a walnut. She inhaled several breaths, steadying herself.
The shift in position made her aware of her full bladder. On feet that felt like leaden blocks, she shuffled to the bathroom.
It was full of shadow, spacious, but unfinished. The large garden tub was missing the spout and faucets; the basin held a short stack of ceramic tiles that matched the floor, but nothing that could be used as a weapon or a lock pick. The door to the glass shower enclosure leaned against a wall. There was a door for the bathroom itself, but where a knob should have been, there was only an empty hole, preventing her from locking herself inside.