Carol Higgins Clark Boxed Set - Volume 1: This eBook collection contains Zapped, Cursed, and Wrecked. (14 page)

T
he flashing red lights of several parked police cars pierced the darkness on the West Side Highway. “Owww,” Wally moaned as a paramedic tended to his nose. “That hurts!”

He and Arthur were still sitting on the ground. Jack Reilly and his assistant, Keith, were crouched down, talking with them. The glass sculptures that had been in the backpack were spread out on the dirty blankets they’d been wrapped in.

Detectives were scouting the surrounding area for the runaway thief.

Arthur’s head was spinning. He’d broken into Jack Reilly’s apartment tonight, locked his wife on the roof, and now here Reilly was thanking them for their bravery.

Jack patted Arthur on the back. “If you hadn’t run after the thief—”

“What about me?” Wally grumbled. “If I hadn’t said a friendly hello to the lunatic, this never would have happened.”

Jack laughed. “You’re right, Wally. Listen, I’d like for you guys come to my office. I spoke to the owners of the gallery. They are out of their minds with joy. They’ll be there, and I know they want to meet you. We have to take these sculptures downtown and lift any prints we can get off of them before they’re returned. We’ll also lift prints off this grimy backpack and see if it can be traced. I’ll get us some food and a new shirt for you, Wally.”

“What about my car?”

“Give me the keys. I’ll have a couple of my guys get some gas, then drive it to my office.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll want to fingerprint you, Arthur, since we know you touched the sculptures and the backpack. It’s called elimination prints. That way we can focus on other prints we pick up.”

Arthur felt faint. He’d never been fingerprinted before. Now they’d have a record of his prints. The same prints that were on the stun gun. “Sure,” he mumbled. “Wally touched at least one of the sculptures, too.”

“Then we’ll fingerprint him as well. I’m also planning to get the gallery owners’ prints.”

Wally and Arthur rode downtown in the back of an unmarked police vehicle. Keith and Jack were in the front. Next time I’ll be in handcuffs, Arthur thought miserably.

Still clad in their beach attire, the owners of the art gallery were anxiously waiting outside One Police Plaza. Knowing the story would be good publicity for their gallery, they’d contacted the press. Several reporters and photographers who were sick of reporting on people trapped in elevators hurried to the scene. The photographers snapped away as the couple embraced Arthur and the swollen-nosed Wally.

“How can we ever ever thank you?” Leon and Zora Peters cried. “You must come to our opening night reception.”

An excited reporter shoved a microphone in Wally’s face. “How do you feel?” she asked anxiously.

“My nose is killing me, but I am proud,” he said simply. “Proud that we were able to stop a criminal from making off with valuable art that didn’t belong to him. I’m sure that the NYPD will have him behind bars in no time. Which is where someone like that should be. And they should throw away the key.”

The reporter nodded zealously then turned to Arthur, who was looking at Wally with a shocked expression. “How about you? I understand you were the one who ran after the man who assaulted your friend.”

Arthur swallowed. “I’m just so pleased for the gallery owners,” he said shakily. “When I went to defend my buddy I had no idea that I’d be helping out people I’d never met…”

Leon and Zora Peters were standing next to Arthur, beaming their approval.

After answering a few more questions, they left the reporters and went up to Jack’s office where a celebratory atmosphere prevailed.

“I’m so glad you did, but what on earth were you doing driving into the city on the night of a blackout?” Leon asked, his eyes widening.

“Um, uh, we thought it would be fun,” Arthur stammered. “We had heard that there were so many block parties during the last blackout. There was nothing going on where we live in New Jersey.”

Leon shrugged. “Sounds like a good reason to me.”

“I had just come back from working on a job in Connecticut,” Wally added. “On the way home, the blackout struck. Right after my boss dropped me off, Arthur drove up and said, ‘Hey, let’s take a ride into the city.’”

So why didn’t you just get in Arthur’s car? Jack wondered.

A detective popped his head into Jack’s office.

“Yes?” Jack said.

The detective held up Arthur’s stun gun, which was still in the plastic bag. “We found out this model is sold only on the Internet by a small company that hasn’t been in business long. They’re based out in Nebraska. It’s the cheapest model they make. We should be able to track down who this belongs to. Tomorrow we’ll talk to someone from the company.”

“Terrific.” Jack turned to the others. “My apartment was broken into tonight,” he explained. “My wife arrived home when the intruder was there. Luckily she wasn’t hurt.”

“Oh no!” Zora cried. “That is just awful. All the wolves are out tonight, aren’t they?”

“We’re lucky that this blackout has been fairly peaceful,” Jack said. “But there are wolves out every night.”

“Maybe you should enlist the help of these two!” Leon joked, pointing to Wally and Arthur. “Look at what they did for us! And they weren’t even trying! Lord knows what they could do if they really put their minds to it!”

Wally and Arthur managed to fake a few hollow laughs.

“My apartment is being renovated, and Wally is on the team doing the work,” Jack explained. “That’s how he knew to call me tonight when this whole thing happened.” He tapped his desk. “By the way, Arthur, what kind of work do you do?”

“Computers,” Arthur said quickly. In a rush he added, “That’s why I recognized the glass sculptures right away. I’d read the story online…”

“T
here’s a cab!” Chip shouted as he and Georgina reached Fifth Avenue. He staggered out into the darkened street, waved his arms, and the cab screeched to a halt, narrowly avoiding him. Oblivious to the near miss, Chip opened the back door and jumped in.

“Where are you going?” the driver leaned out the window and snapped at Georgina. She was standing there, slightly stunned, not having reacted quickly enough to Chip’s sudden actions. “This is my last ride of the night,” the driver continued. “It’s too dangerous out here. It’s pitch black and with crazy people like your boyfriend running out into the street, I could have a terrible accident. Tell me where you’re going, lady, and get in the car.”

In a split second Georgina made her decision. She spat out the address and got in. Chip was leaning back with his eyes closed. The driver took off just as she was shutting the door. Georgina was thankful that he didn’t appear to have any interest in more chitchat. The cab had a partition, and the radio was at a high volume, tuned to a news station. An announcer was reporting that city leaders were optimistic that the lights would be back on soon. In the middle of the report, the driver changed the channel to a station playing rock music.

The traffic was light. Most everyone was off the road by now, home roasting in their hot apartments. Tomorrow the city would be full of cranky, tired people, Georgina thought. It took less than ten minutes to reach their destination. The driver stopped and slid open the partition. “Which building?” he asked.

“We’ll just get out here at the corner,” Georgina answered, glancing at the meter to see what the fare was. She reached through the partition and handed the driver several bills. “That should do it.”

“Thanks,” the driver mumbled as he snapped the partition shut.

“Come on, Chip,” Georgina said, nudging him.

“What?” he asked, his eyes fluttering. “Where are we?”

Georgina opened the door and firmly grabbed hold of his arm. “We’re getting out.”

“I have to get home,” he protested weakly.

“You can’t walk up all those flights of stairs,” Georgina said breezily, in case the cab driver was paying attention.

She needn’t have worried. The cabbie was snapping his fingers, grooving to the music that seemed to be getting louder by the second.

Increasingly stupefied, Chip got out of the car slowly. Everything was dark and quiet. There were no signs of life anywhere. Georgina took his hand. “Come on,” she coaxed. “I want to show you something.”

“I’m so tired,” he muttered as she led him across a street, away from the buildings. “I have to lie down.”

“You can lie down in a minute.” She walked ahead of him down a grassy knoll, but she held his hand with an iron grip. “It’s so nice here. Why would you want to be anywhere else?” She stopped when they reached a stone wall. “Let’s settle in behind these bushes. It’s nice and private.”

“It’s so dark,” Chip said, stumbling slightly. “It’s hard to see anything.” He sat down on the ground, laid back, and quickly fell asleep.

Georgina sighed with relief. I really have him here, she thought. Here in the spot I thought I never wanted to be. She stood for several moments, glaring into the darkness, then sat down next to him. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. This is where it all happened, and Chip could care less. I’m not good enough for him to worry about. Angrily, she opened her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She also yanked out the branding tool she planned to use on his arm. That can wait a little while, she thought. I’ll smoke my cigarettes. She enjoyed the feeling of being in control of his fate and wanted to savor it. Once she branded him, she’d have to leave right away. But now, if someone happened by and spotted them, there would be nothing to arouse suspicion. They were a young couple escaping the stifling heat of their apartment.

I can’t believe I’m here, she kept thinking. I just can’t. My life could have been so different. She lit up a cigarette, pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. There were two messages from Paulette, one from Melanie, and one from Dexter. Why were they calling? They didn’t want to come to the comedy club tonight. Maybe Kit went back to the hotel and complained to them I’d left her at the club. Too bad. I’ve been abandoned plenty of times in my life and I’ve survived.

She didn’t want to listen to the messages but was tempted to call Paulette back. Paulette was Georgina’s only friend. But she was a mess, too.

No, she decided. I’ll call her tomorrow.

Georgina threw the phone back in her purse, and out of curiousity, pulled out Chip’s. How very high tech, she thought sarcastically. It was like a miniature computer, complete with a keyboard. She pressed the on button and the phone lit up. I wish I knew how to retrieve his messages, she mused. But without his code, she knew it was hopeless. She tossed the phone on the ground next to her, laid back and took a drag off her cigarette.

As she stared at the stars, which normally weren’t so visible above Manhattan, she started to sing. One line of a song. What she didn’t know was that when she tossed Chip’s phone to the ground, the redial button had been activated.

Chip’s parents were hurrying out the door when their phone rang. They both raced back inside. His mother ran to the kitchen and his father to the living room. “It’s Chip,” his mother screamed when she saw the number on the caller
ID
. She and her husband answered at once.

“Hello, Chip!” they cried, their voices hopeful. “Chip!”

But there was no response. All they could hear was the faint sound of a woman singing.

“Chip!” they called. “Chip, please talk to us!”

A puzzled expression came over Georgina’s face. “What is that noise?” she muttered, then glanced over at Chip’s phone. Picking it up and holding it to her ear, she could hear a man and a woman speaking into the phone.

“Chip, this is Mom—and Dad. Where are you?”

Georgina pressed the disconnect button. Now she was really angry. Those were two people who would never approve of her. She was sure of it. They wouldn’t be inviting her to Maine for a nice long weekend of lobster and white wine. “He’s here,” she said aloud as she made sure the phone was switched off. “But he can’t talk to you right now.” She then laughed bitterly. “He may never talk to you again.”

She lay back down and resumed smoking her cigarette. It made her feel a little bit better. Life was so unfair, she thought. I’ve never gotten a break. Not like this privileged brat lying next to me. He has two parents who love him. The sound of their worried voices made her so angry. No one on this planet feels that way about me, she thought.

Chip was in a dead sleep. He was so quiet and still, she leaned over to make sure he was breathing.

He was.

T
he crowd of young people outside Lonnie’s bar was growing by the minute. Phil had gone inside to make the announcement about forming a search party, and the bar had practically emptied out. Almost everyone was on a cell phone, trying to get in touch with friends, asking them to come down from their apartments and bring flashlights.

“When something like this happens we all realize it could have easily been one of us,” a petite girl with a dark tan said quietly to Regan. “I feel terrible. It’s just usually a girl who disappears, not a guy.”

“I know,” Regan said. She called out to the crowd. “If everyone could listen for a minute. First of all, we really appreciate your help. Chip Jones’s parents are on their way down from Maine and they are frantic. The bartender here at Lonnie’s, Josh Gaspero, offered to stay open so we can use the bar as a base. I know cell phone service is spotty. But please take the number of the landline at the bar and try to periodically check in. Josh will be notified right away if there is any news. Also be sure to get my number and Phil’s number. We want to pass the word as quickly as possible if there are any developments. Write your names and numbers on the sheet of paper Josh has at the bar so that we can keep track of everyone. You know we have to look in isolated areas, so please, don’t walk around alone. Break up into groups.”

“There are seven or eight of us who will go into Central Park together,” one guy called out.

“Great,” Regan said. “I think a good plan would be for the rest of you to focus on the Upper East Side. Go down by the river and Carl Schurz Park. If any of your friends show up with cars, you can fan out to other areas.” Regan’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me. I think it’s Chip’s parents,” she said. She turned away and answered.

“Regan, someone just called from Chip’s cell phone,” Chris Jones said, his voice clipped. Regan could hear Sue crying on the extension.

“What did they say?”

“All we could hear was a woman singing, almost to herself. Then she stopped. A moment later the phone was disconnected. We tried to call back and it went right to his voice mail.”

“Singing? What was she singing?”

“Only the good die young,” Sue answered, her voice hysterical. “She kept singing that one line over and over.”

Regan’s heart skipped a beat. “Could you hear anything else in the background?”

“I think I heard a car honk its horn. There was also the distant sound of a police siren.”

“You think they were calling from outside?”

“Either that or they were sitting next to an open window. Why would someone do this to us?” Sue demanded. “Why would she taunt us like that? How would she even know our number?”

“Chip probably has it programmed in his phone,” Regan answered. “You said you spoke to him tonight. Did you call him?”

“Yes,” Sue answered. “We called him as soon as we heard about the blackout.”

“But, honey, remember, he called us back because the connection was bad,” Chris reminded her.

“If that was the case, and you were the last one he called, his phone might have accidentally hit redial. Does he have one of those high tech phones that don’t fold over?

“Yes.”

“A friend of mine recently ended up with a conversation recorded on her answering machine that the person who left it certainly never intended her to hear. He had just left her a message and didn’t realize it when his phone hit redial. The same thing could have happened here.”

“But his phone had been turned off. And why was she singing that song?” Sue demanded.

“I don’t know but I’ll call the detective in Atlanta who has Georgina’s friend in custody. This friend is willing to give any information she can to save her own skin. Maybe this song will have some significance. We’re trying to figure out if there’s someplace in the city that has special meaning to Georgina where she may have gone.”

“If she has his phone and he didn’t talk to us, it must mean that he’s already drugged—” Sue began.

“Don’t go there,” Regan warned her. “We have a lot of people about to hit the streets looking for your son, and the police have been notified.”

“We’re getting in the car now,” Chris said quickly. “I’m putting our phone on call forwarding in case they call back. Keep in touch with us. Regan, please find him.”

When she hung up, Regan called Detective McFadden in Atlanta and asked him to find out about the song and to ask Paulette if she knew where Georgina’s grandmother had lived. Paulette had never heard Georgina mention the song, but she did remember that the grandmother had lived somewhere on the Lower East Side. She didn’t have a specific address.

Regan got the crowd’s attention again and told them of the phone call Chip’s parents had received. “We’ve got to move fast. Chip might already be drugged. Remember, safety in numbers. Please be careful.”

Regan turned to Conrad who was standing with Kit, Alexis, Becky, Dodie, and Phil.

“Where do you want us to go?” Conrad asked.

“Let’s see. Phil’s friends are covering the Upper East Side…”

Phil nodded. “Dodie and I will also stay around here. I know this area and will be keeping in close touch with Josh. I don’t want the search parties to lose any momentum if in a couple of hours—” He stopped speaking, unable to continue.

“That’s a great idea, Phil,” Regan said quickly. “Conrad, why don’t you drive Becky and Alexis around Tribeca? I know you’re familiar with that part of the city. There are a lot of isolated areas down by the river where they could be. My group will cover the Lower East Side. That’s where Georgina’s grandmother lived. Maybe she took Chip for a stroll down memory lane.”

“Of course, Regan.” Conrad started toward his car, then turned back and grabbed Regan’s hand. “I can only imagine how his parents must feel. We’ll drive around all night until we find him.”

“Thanks, Conrad. By the way, you have a lovely daughter.”

He smiled. “I know. I’m very lucky.”

As they got into their cars, Regan kept having the same thought. If Georgina planned to pull this same crime off in Manhattan tonight, without a car, then she must have had some location in mind. She couldn’t just drive around looking for a perfect spot like she could in the other cities. But where in Manhattan could it be?

And why did she choose it?