Crisscross. Part 41

Jack had brought Entenmann's crumb donuts to the traditional Friday morning perusal of the latest film reviews before the Isher Sports Shop opened for business. The papers were spread on the counter, collecting the crumbs, but only briefly: Parabellum was on clean-up duty, and he was devoted to the task.

Jack had checked in with Gia earlier. She'd said she was doing fine but he sensed something forced in her tone. He planned to stop in later.

He was halfway through a review of the latest Robert Rodriguez film when Abe spoke around a mouthful of Entenmann's.

"Nu? Haven't you been talking to someone at The Light The Light lately? What do you think about that murder there last night?" lately? What do you think about that murder there last night?"

Jack almost choked as his throat clenched.

"What? There's nothing in the paper about-"

"Happened too late for the paper. It's all over the radio this morning. Don't you listen?"

Aw, no. A shattering rush of guilt paralyzed him. He hadn't been persuasive enough. He hadn't watched The Light The Light long enough. He'd failed her. long enough. He'd failed her.

Jack didn't want to hear the answer but had to ask: "Did they say anything about how she was killed?"

"She? No, a he. The guard at the front desk. Shot in the head. I hear the police suspect an inside job because there was no sign of a break-in or a struggle. Probably someone he knew."

Jack's burst of relief was short-lived. That poor unsuspecting guard's death-Jamie had called him Henry-had to be related to what they'd learned last night.

Jack yanked his phone from his pocket and called information for The Light's The Light's number. A few seconds later the switchboard was putting him through to her extension. number. A few seconds later the switchboard was putting him through to her extension.

But a man answered, his voice gruff, sounding annoyed. "Yeah?"

"Jamie Grant, please."

"Who's calling?"

"A friend. Is she there?"

"Not at the moment. Give me your name and number and I'll tell her you called."

Jack cut the call. If that wasn't a cop, he'd eat a pair of Abe's roller blades for lunch.

This was looking very bad.

He checked his voice mail-he'd given her one of his newer numbers because the one on the Robertson card was purposefully obsolete-but no message from Jamie. He couldn't imagine her being stupid enough to go home, but he called her apartment anyway. Her answering machine picked up on the second ring.

He left a cryptic message: "Jamie, this is Robertson. Call me at that number I gave you."

No sense in leaving Jensen even the faintest of trails.

He gave Abe a quick rundown on what had been going on.

"You think this Jensen's got her?"

Jack shrugged. "The only other possibility is that they botched an attempt to grab her and she's gone to ground. But I'd think she'd have called the police then."

"How do you know she didn't? Maybe that coplike person answering her phone is there because she's under protection."

"Since when are you such an optimist?"

"What-I should play Eeyore my whole life?"

Jamie with the police... a possibility, but somehow...

"I have to operate on the a.s.sumption they've got her."

"Got her where? I can't imagine they'd risk taking her back to the temple."

"No, she's someplace else. I'm sure they're not stas.h.i.+ng her back at the cabin, so... where?" He looked around. "Got any hats?"

"Hats I've got tons of. What do you want?"

"Something big. The bigger the better."

9.

Gia checked her pad for the third time this morning. Still no blood.

See? Nothing to worry about. Dr. Eagleton had been right.

Relieved, she stepped out of the bathroom and just missed colliding with Vicky who tended to go wherever she was going at a dead run.

"Mom! Can Jessica come over?"

Jessica had been one of the princesses on Halloween. Good kid and not at all high maintenance. But Gia didn't feel up to overseeing two ten-year-olds.

"I'm still feeling kind of p.o.o.ped, Vicky." Four days since the Big Bleed. She'd have thought she'd be bouncing back by now. "But you can go over there if you like."

Vicky grinned. "I'll call her!" She ran for the phone.

Gia would take advantage of the free time by keeping her feet up and taking it easy. One more day. If nothing else bad happened, she'd get back to a more normal routine tomorrow. Much more of this forced inactivity and she'd be ready for the loony bin.

Jack was stopping by later this morning. It would be good to slip a movie in the disk player and hang out, just the two of them.

The phone rang. It was Jack.

"Hi, hon. Look, I'm going to have to put off my visit."

She hid her disappointment.

"Something come up?"

"Yeah. Sort of."

Something in his tone...

"Anything wrong?"

"Not sure. Talk to you about it later, okay?"

"Okay. Keep in touch."

She hung up and wondered what he was up to.

10.

Jack slouched in the back of a taxi heading west along Jamie's street. He wore sungla.s.ses and an oversized khaki boonie cap pulled low on his head. As the cab approached her apartment house he scanned the parked cars and found one occupied by two men. Their eyes were locked on Jamie's door.

This could be a good sign. If they were watching for Jamie it could only mean they didn't have her and were still after her.

But then he thought of another reason for the ongoing surveillance. What if they weren't watching for Jamie... what if they were watching for him?

11.

Jamie squinted in the sudden glare as the trunk lid popped open. Not that the light was all that bright-just an overhead incandescent-but after all those hours in total darkness, it looked like a supernova.

Her joints creaked in protest as she struggled to her knees. Her bladder was screaming for release. She'd wormed her way out of the canvas bag as they drove her around for what seemed like half a day. The car had stopped and started twice during the journey, but hadn't budged for hours now. If the purpose of all that had been to break down her resistance with prolonged terror, they'd succeeded. In spades.

She began to cry. She hated to let anyone see her like this but she couldn't help it. She'd never been so frightened in her entire life.

She tried to blink her surroundings into focus. Light filtered through a couple of dirty windows in a folding metal door. She seemed to be in a small garage. But in what state? She felt so disoriented.

"There, there," said a deep voice. "No need to be upset."

It came from her left. She looked up and cowered back from the blurred image of a huge black man in jeans and a black T-s.h.i.+rt. She didn't need the extra blinks that brought him into focus to identify him.

Jensen.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She'd been about to ask why he'd kidnapped her and brought her here-wherever here was-but she knew the answers. She had a far more pressing concern.

The words clung to her throat but she forced them through. "You're going to kill me, aren't you."

Jensen laughed like the guy who used to do the "Uncola Nut" commercials. "Don't be silly! You've been watching too many bad movies. We have the tape, we erased your word processing file. If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now."

Jamie glanced around. " 'We'?"

His smile remained fixed. "Just an expression. I'm the only one here."

"Well, know this: I made a copy of that tape." She hated the way her voice quavered.

He smiled. "Oh? And when and where would you have made such a copy? And where did you stash it? In a safety deposit box? Not at that hour. In your desk? No. In your purse? No. In your apartment? No. At-"

"My apartment? How-?"

"When we got your purse we got your keys. Apartment 5-D, right? We know you haven't been home since this morning, but we searched it anyway."

Christ, he'd covered all the bases.

She clenched her trembling hands and decided to go the disarming route and 'fess up.

"All right, you caught me. But I lied because I'm scared."

"No need to be. Just give me the answers to a few questions and you can be on your way."

"You're not going to let me go. I've seen you, and kidnapping is a federal offense."

He laughed again. "Rest a.s.sured that I'll have a perfect alibi. I'll simply say it's all something you cooked up to sell more papers. You've already gone public with your rabid hatred of Dormentalism-or 'Dementedism,' as you like to call it-and since you couldn't dig up any real dirt on the Church, you pulled this stunt. Remember Morton Downey when he faked an attack by skinheads? Making that sort of crazy claim will hurt you, not us. You'll be the new Morton Downey. No one will ever believe you again."

Jamie doubted that. Doubted it big time.

"What about Henry?" she said.

Jensen's brow furrowed. "Henry? I don't believe-"

"The night guard at the paper. Was he in on it?"

"Oh, yes. Henry. I didn't know who you meant at first because that's not his real name."