Finger Prints (40 page)

“I know what you’re planning,” Sheila continued, speaking slowly, pausing for Carly to catch up, “and I can’t bear to live. I’ve never loved another human being as I love you.”

“Sheila—” Carly sobbed.

“Write!” There was not the slightest hint of feeling in Sheila’s voice. “I’ve never loved another human being as I love you. I’m so sorry. For both of us.” She paused. “Just sign it, Carly.”

The script was indistinguishable at points and blurred where Carly’s tears had fallen. When she was done writing, Sheila lifted the paper and read it over.

“Not bad. Even those smudges. Shows how upset she was. Perfect.”

Theakos snaked his hand into the drawer, heedless of Carly’s recoiling when his arm grazed her breast, and drew out an envelope. “Put it in,” he commanded. When, fumbling badly, Carly finally managed that, he directed her to put Ryan’s name on the envelope. Then, propping the note in a visible spot on the desk, he grabbed her arm and pulled her from the chair. “Let’s get on with it,” he growled. “I got a plane to catch.”

b
EFORE CARLY COULD UTTER THE SMALLEST
cry, she was gagged with one of the scarves Theakos had pulled from his pocket. She jerked in pain when the knot caught her hair but Theakos only tugged it tighter. When her tongue fought against the stifling intrusion, her mouth went dry. She felt as though she was suffocating. Nausea welled up from the pit of her stomach. She swallowed convulsively, breathing fast and hard through her nose.

Driven by primal instinct, she struggled against the arms that pinned hers back, against a second scarf being bound around her wrists. She twisted and turned against Sheila, who tried to hold her still.

“Better hurry,” Sheila managed to grunt. “She’ll fight us all the way.”

Theakos’s answer was a snarl. “I’ve handled worse.”

They were the words of a coldhearted killer. In that instant of stark realization Carly panicked. She whirled around. She reared back. Then she bucked against Sheila, toppling them both to the floor, but Theakos grabbed her before she could do more than roll to her knees. When she tried to pull away, he shook her hard.

“Goddammit!” Sheila yelled and raised a hand to hit her, only to be stopped by Theakos’s meaty grip.

“No marks,” he growled, glaring at Sheila as though she were a dimwit. “Can’ be any outward sign of a fight. Why d’ya think I’m usin’ scarves?”

Sheila scrambled to her feet. “I thought you liked the color,” she grumbled, brushing herself off.

“Dumb broad.” Theakos’s quelling look applied the epithet first to Sheila then to a fast-breathing Carly, whom he tugged up.

Carly made frantic sounds, but, muffled by the gag, they remained deep in her throat. A cold sweat bathed her brow. Her body was a mass of tremors. But she continued to thrash against Theakos’s hulking form, her legs scissoring and stabbing, landing with no apparent effect.

Theakos tightened his grip. “You tie,” he gritted toward Sheila, then squeezed Carly with such sharpness that she grew faint.

Seizing the moment, Sheila quickly retrieved the scarf from the floor and, grasping first one, then the other of Carly’s ankles, secured them fast.

Carly regained awareness as she was being carried toward the bedroom. At first she thought she was having another of her nightmares, but the bite of her shackles was too real, as was the bulk and bodily smell of Ham Theakos. She tried to scream, but couldn’t. She thought she might vomit, but didn’t. She writhed in his grip, thrashing her head from side to side, wearing herself out with her efforts but knowing that it was now or never.

When she hit the bed, she brought her knees up in an attempt to kick out at her captor, but he was too fast. Sprawling half across her, he pinned her down so that her knees banged uselessly against his back.

“Get the cord,” he ordered.

Panting in terror, Carly saw Sheila approach holding a thin nylon cord. She moaned and tried to roll away, eyes bulging, ever pleading. But the cord slipped over her head and, trussed as she was, she was helpless to stop its tightening.

Theakos hauled her up over his shoulder. “Now the chair.”

When Sheila disappeared for an instant, Carly rammed her chin against his back. Defying the dizzying rush of blood to her head, she squirmed madly, but Theakos was unfazed.

Sheila returned with the wood chair Carly had sat on moments before.

He tossed his head. “Middle of the room.”

She put it there, and Carly was set standing on it, held still by Theakos, who tossed the end of the nylon cord to Sheila.

“Over the rafter,” was his gruff command.

Carly could barely breathe. Her gaze dimmed. She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not when the future was so bright.

In her daze she was aware of Theakos’s grumblings, of his low curse when Sheila repeatedly missed her goal. She wanted to laugh hysterically at the farce of it all. Such a well-planned murder to be thwarted by bad aim.

Then all thought of laughter died, replaced by the most soulful dread Carly had ever known when the cord successfully cleared the rafter and tumbled down the other side. She writhed in hideous desperation, thinking, in vivid flashes, of her parents, her brothers, of Matthew and, mostly, mostly Ryan. Ryan, who was her soulmate. Ryan, whom she loved more than life itself. Ryan, who would now be alone. A low cry of agony burst from her throat, but had nowhere to go. The cord tightened. She whimpered futilely.

Then a loud crash shook the cottage and before Carly could begin to understand, a blur of darkness barreled through from the other room. With the advantage of both speed and surprise, Ryan hurled himself at Theakos, knocking the burly man away from Carly.

Had Carly not been in a state of shock, her legs would have crumbled. But she stood rigid, trembling inside, eyes fixed on Ryan as he grappled with his husky opponent. Only when Sheila made a dive for the bed did she try to cry out, but it was too late.

Grabbing the gun that lay there, Sheila lunged back for Carly just as three uniformed policemen burst into the room.

“Drop it!” one yelled. All held large rifles cocked to fire.

“No,
you
drop it,” Sheila cried, dragging Carly stumbling down from the chair with the gun pressed to her head. “Guns down, or she gets it.”

All movement in the room ceased. The air was still, thick, the silence broken only by random gasps from Ryan and the man who lay half beneath him.

For an instant it was a standoff. But only for an instant. En route to the cottage, the troopers had been alerted to the identities and skills of Carly’s abductors. Each of them knew that she would be dead if any one of them fired. And then there was Ryan who, ignoring their commands to stop, had raced ahead and broken into the cabin. His life, too, was now on the line. Slowly they lowered their rifles.

“Now back out,” Sheila ordered, inching forward with Carly as a shield.

Theakos was on his feet, training his own gun on Ryan. Ryan’s eyes never left Carly. When the police were in the other room and Sheila was watching each step from the door, she raised her voice. “Get out. And shut that door.”

One by one the men left, closing the door behind them. Only then did Sheila release Carly with a shove that sent her toppling to the floor. Ryan was by her side in a flash, tearing at the noose, then the scarves that bound her hands and feet. Together they worked at the gag. When it was free and she could breathe, she collapsed against him, panting loudly, trembling uncontrollably. Face buried against his chest, she could think of nothing but the fact that he was there with her, that she was still alive. His hands moved convulsively, hugging her, then stroking her hair, shifting to rub her back, touching her face. For an instant he forgot the two with their guns. When Theakos spoke, he looked up in abrupt alarm, his arms crushing Carly to him as though he feared she would be taken away again.

But Theakos was looking at Sheila, his face distorted with rage. “You really done it.” His gun jabbed the air with each word. “How in hell did the cops get here?”

“How would I know?” Sheila countered breathlessly. “I didn’t expect this any more than you did.”

“You were the brains,” he roared angrily. “You had it all worked out.”

“Something goofed.”

“No kiddin’.” He moved to the lamp and turned it off. The dim spill of light from the living room lent an even more sinister aura to the room. “I ought to shoot
you
and say I was set up too.”

Sheila eyed Ryan and Carly. “But they’d know better. Are you going to shoot both of them and say I did it?”

“Not a bad idea.”

“But dumb.”

“She’s right,” Ryan said, trying to think clearly even though he felt as though he’d been to hell and back. Well…partway back.

“Shut up,” Theakos growled, his attention still on Sheila.

But Ryan wasn’t about to give up. “There are cops all over the place. You haven’t got a chance. Attempted murder is better than murder—”

His words were cut off by the well-aimed kick Theakos sent his way. It caught him in the ribs, knocking him off balance. When Carly winced, Ryan regained his hold of her, pressing his mouth to her ear. “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right.” But her trembling continued, and it was all he could do to control his fury at the two who had made her this way.

“So, brains,” Theakos started in on Sheila again, “got any bright ideas?”

She scowled. “I’m thinking.”

Her thought was disrupted by the blare of a bullhorn from outside, its words slow and distinct. “
Theakos and Montgomery. You are surrounded. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up
.”

“No…way…Jose,” Sheila stated slowly and distinctly.

“Come on, Sheila,” Ryan coaxed. “You can’t win.”

She gritted her teeth. “I can and I will. I haven’t come this far only to spend the rest of my life in jail.” She held up her free hand. “Let me think.”

“Do it fast,” Theakos grumbled.

“
Theakos and Montgomery. You are surrounded. Repeat. You are surrounded. There is no means of escape
.”

Theakos shifted from one leg to the next. Sheila tapped a finger to her mouth.

“We have hostages,” she murmured, thinking her plan aloud. “We’ll have to demand free passage somewhere.” Her eyes lit. “Zaire. The United States has no extradition treaty with Zaire. And I’ve always wanted to see Africa.”

Theakos cursed, his beady eyes darkening in disgust. Africa was the last place
he
wanted to see. Though the brunt of his anger was directed at Sheila, who had somehow bungled what should have been a simple murder, his wrath also spread to Gary Culbert, who’d been responsible for all this from the start.

“We’ll ask for money,” Sheila said. “Five hundred thousand, a plane and a pilot in exchange for two hostages.”

Carly pressed closer to Ryan. She couldn’t think, could barely comprehend Sheila’s words. Her entire being felt numb. She wanted to sleep, to escape it all.

But suddenly Sheila was tugging at her, forcing her from Ryan’s arms while Theakos placed his gun by Ryan’s head. “Up, Carly,” she ordered. “We have some dealing to do.”

When Carly clung to Ryan, Sheila lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. “If you’d rather, we can kill you both now.”

Carly managed to climb to her feet. She moaned when Sheila twisted one arm up painfully behind her. Ryan’s reflex rush forward was halted by Theakos.

“If I have to kill you,” he rasped, taking his cue from Sheila’s psychological play, “I’ll have nothing to lose in killing her too.”

Ryan fell back to his seat on the floor. Aching, he watched Sheila nudge Carly forward. When Carly stumbled, Sheila hauled her roughly up. “I don’t have to worry about marks, now,” she warned, her tone more ruthless than ever. “Watch your step, Carly. If I go, you go.”

Making her cautious way into the living room, she switched off the lamp as Theakos had done. The last thing they needed was to be in a fish bowl. As it was, there was plenty of light spilling in from outside, the flicker of red and blue lights heralding what was beyond. Holding Carly carefully before her, Sheila parted the light drapes. Though night reigned, it couldn’t hide the line of bumper-to-bumper cruisers that obstructed the narrow drive. Sneering an oath, she tugged Carly to the door, then slowly opened it just far enough to call out.

“We have hostages here. They’ll die if you try something.”

“
You are surrounded
,” the megaphone replied. “
You haven’t got a chance
.” Helmeted heads lurked behind every car, rifles pointed, primed and aimed.

“Then neither have they,” she yelled back, tightening her hold on Carly, careful to stay covered herself. “If you want them alive, you’ll do what I tell you.”

“
Send them out. Make it easier on yourselves
.”

Carly flinched when Sheila’s shout battered her eardrum. “We want five hundred thousand in cash, free passage to the nearest airport, a plane and a pilot. And we want them by midnight. That gives you a little more than three hours.”

Without awaiting a reply, she slammed the door, retraced her steps to the bedroom and threw Carly toward Ryan, who still sat on the floor, his back now braced against the foot of the bed. He caught her easily and enclosed her chilled form in his arms.

Sheila joined Theakos, who stood some distance from the bed, his gun pointed at the couple on the floor. “There,” she said. “Now we wait.”

“That was stupid, too,” Theakos snorted.

“What was?”

“Midnight. Where they gonna get that kind of money at this hour of the night? The banks are closed.”

Sheila tossed her head in a gesture of indifference. “Banks can be opened. The right call here or there can do wonders. Don’t worry, they’ll manage.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They can beg us for a time extension,” she blurted crossly. Then, as though she’d exhausted her store of bravado, she stumbled through the darkness to a nearby easy chair and, for the first time, realized what had happened. Everything had gone wrong. Had things run as planned, Carly would have already been dead, and she’d be on her way back to Boston to fall into Tom’s arms in despair at having failed to find Carly.

Tom. It was over. He would never love her now. She would never be free to love
him
now.

She looked over at Ryan to find him studying her closely, and her dismay turned to anger. If she correctly read the somber expression that even the darkness couldn’t hide, he pitied her. “Have you got a problem?” she barked.

“Obviously I do,” Ryan stated quietly. He rubbed his jaw along Carly’s brow, pressed his hand against her head, holding her face to his throat. “I haven’t got any five hundred thousand dollars.”

She made a face. “Come on. You have a lucrative law practice, an expensive condo, a gorgeous car—”

“But no five hundred thou.”

“Then your law firm can dig it up. The rent in that building must be hefty. I’m sure that Miller and Cornell has ample resources.”

“The firm wouldn’t yield to a ransom demand.”