Hostage (2001) (22 page)

'We got the boy. Get a number for this woman, Kate Toepfer in West Palm Beach, that's where the mother is.'

Maddox and Ellison exchanged words, Talley not hearing because he had already gone back to the boy. Martin stepped close, pulling at his arm to tip the phone so that she could hear.

'Where you are now, son, are you okay? Could they catch you talking to me?'

'They locked me in my room. I'm on my sister's cell phone.'

'Where's that, your room?'

'Upstairs.'

'Okay. Where's your dad and sister?'

'My dad's down in the office. They got him on the couch. He needs a doctor.'

'Was he shot?'

'Dennis hit him, and now he won't wake up. My sister says he needs a doctor, but Dennis won't listen.'

'Is he bleeding?'

'Not anymore. He just won't wake up. I'm really scared.'

'How about your sister? Is she okay?'

Maddox said, 'Ask him does he know the subject locations.'

Talley raised a hand, the boy still talking, saying something about his sister.

'What was that, Thomas? I missed that. Is she okay?'

'I said she won't leave. I tried to get her to leave, but she won't without our dad.'

Martin plucked at him.

'Can he get out? Ask him if he can get out.'

Talley nodded.

'Okay, Thomas, we're going to get you out of there as fast as we can, but I want to ask something. You're alone in your room on the second floor, right?'

'Yeah.'

'Could you let yourself out your window if we were down below to catch you?'

'They've got the windows nailed shut. But even if they didn't, they could see me.'

'They could see you climbing out the window even though you're alone?'

'We have security cameras. They could see on the monitors in my folks' room if they were looking. They would see you sneaking up to the house, too.'

'Okay, son, one more thing. Dennis told me that he had set up the house to burn with gasoline. Is that true?'

'They've got a bucket of gas in the entry hall. I saw it when they brought me downstairs. It really stinks.'

Talley heard brushing sounds on the phone, and the boy's voice dropped.

'They're coming.'

'Thomas? Thomas, are you all right?'

The boy was gone.

Martin said, 'What's happening?'

Talley listened, straining now, but the line was dead.

'He said they were coming, then he hung up.'

Martin took a deep breath, let it hiss out.

'You think they caught him?'

Talley closed the phone and put it away.

'I don't think so. He didn't sound panicked when he shut the phone, so I don't think he was discovered; he just had to end the call.'

'Was Rooney telling the truth about the gasoline?'

'Yes.'

'Shit. That's a problem. That's a fucking big problem. All we need is a goddamned barbecue.'

'He also said that there's a video security system. That's how he saw your people approaching the house.'

Martin turned to Ellison.

'Have the I.O. check the phone lines to see if there's a security feed. We might be able to back-trace it to the provider and find out what we're dealing with.'

Talley started to say that his people had already come up empty with that, but he let it go. If it was him, he'd double-check, too.

'He says the father is injured. That's why he called out, to say his father needs a doctor.'

Martin's expression turned grim. She hadn't heard that part.

'First the goddamned gas, and now this. If the man is in imminent danger, we might have to risk a breach.'

Maddox shifted, uncomfortable.

'How're we gonna breach knowing this guy can see it coming, him with gasoline ready to go? We'll get people killed.'

'If we have someone dying in there, we can't ignore it.'

Talley held up his hands like he was pushing them apart.

'The boy didn't say anyone is dying, he just said the man is hurt.'

He repeated Thomas's description of Walter Smith's condition. Martin listened, head down, but glancing at Maddox and Ellison from time to time as if to gauge their reactions. When Talley finished, she nodded.

'Well, that's not a lot of information.'

'No.'

'All right, at least we know we're not talking about a gunshot victim here. Smith's not in there bleeding to death.'

'Sounds like head trauma.'

'So we've got a possible concussion, but we can't be sure about that. We can't very well call Rooney back to ask about the father. He might get it in his head that one of those kids is calling out.'

Talley had to agree.

'We have to protect the boy. If he gets the chance to call again, I'm pretty sure he will.'

Maddox nodded.

'When I talk with Rooney again I'll push him to find out how everyone's doing. Maybe I can kick free some information about the father.'

They agreed that for now the best plan was to let Rooney and the others in the house calm down. Martin looked back at Talley.

'If the boy calls again, he'll call through your office.'

'I would guess so. He must've gotten the department's number from information.'

Talley knew what she wanted.

'I'll have someone in my office around the clock. If the boy calls, they'll page me and I'll bring you in.'

Martin checked her watch, then looked at Maddox.

'We've got to get to it. I want you and Ellison set up in front of that house so we can start breaking these assholes down.'

Talley knew what that meant: They would maintain a high noise level profile, phoning Rooney periodically throughout the night to keep him awake. They would try to wear him down by depriving him of sleep. Sometimes, if you got them tired enough, they gave up.

Martin turned back to Talley, and now her face softened. She put out her hand, and Talley took it. Her grip wasn't as hard as before.

'I appreciate your help, Chief. You've done a good job keeping this situation under control.'

'Thanks, Captain.'

Martin squeezed his hand, then let go.

'You want to relieve your people now, that's fine. I'd like four of your officers to liaison with the locals, but past that, we've got it. I know you have a slim department up here.'

'It's yours, Captain. You have my numbers. If you need me, call. Otherwise, I'll grab a few hours' sleep and see you in the morning.'

'We're good.'

Martin gave him an uncertain smile that almost looked pretty, then walked away. Talley thought that she probably had a hard time smiling, but people often did, and for reasons that surprised you. Maddox and Ellison followed her.

Talley brought his cup to the kitchen, thanked Mrs. Pena for her help, then went to his car. He brought Larry Anders up to speed, then checked the time, wondering if Jane and Amanda were still at dinner or were waiting at home.

He wondered why Martin had squeezed his hand.

The television crews wouldn't share their food, cheap pricks, big urns of Starbucks coffee that someone had brought, Krispy Kreme donuts, and pizza. Just as well, or Ken Seymore would have missed seeing Talley leave.

Rather than eating, Seymore was seated in his car, a Ford Explorer, near the gate. He told the two cops there, who had asked him what he was doing, that he was waiting for a pool photographer to arrive from Los Angeles. Going to snap some shots of the guys guarding the development, he had said. That had been enough. They'd left him alone.

When Seymore saw Talley drive out, he picked up his phone.

'He's leaving.'

That was all he needed to say.

Chapter
13

Friday, 8:46 P.M.

Her heart pounding, her lips tingling from the kiss, his voice a whisper in her ear there in the dark, parked outside her house.

'We would be good together. I've thought that for weeks, the two of us, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.'

He was a doctor at her hospital, newly divorced, two boys in high school, one a year older than Mandy, the other a year younger.

'You know it would be good.'

'It would.'

She loved the warm hardness of him, something that had been missing so long; this large male body, holding her, hers to hold. And a nice man. A nice man. They had the same sense of humor, wacky and sarcastic.

'Come home with me tonight. For a little while.'

Her first date with another man since Jeff moved out, almost a year; Jeff up there in Bristo, Jeff who had simply shut down on her, stopped feeling, pulled back, withdrawn, disappeared, whatever the hell. It felt like cheating.

'I don't know.'

'I don't want the night to end. We don't have to do anything. Not for at least five minutes.'

She laughed. Couldn't help herself.

He kissed her, and she kissed back, the sensuous play of lips and tongues. She felt drunk with it, and so SO alive.

'I told Amanda I would be in by now.'

'I'll cry. Worse, I'll sulk. It's terrible when I sulk.'

Laughing, she put her hand over his face and pushed him away. Gently.

He sighed, and now they were serious.

'Okay. I had fun.'

'Me, too.'

'I'll see you at work tomorrow. I'll drop around the floor, find you.'

'I'm off tomorrow and the day after.'

'Thursday, then. That would be Thursday. I'll see you then.'

She kissed him a final time, a quick peck, though he wanted more, then hurried into the empty house. Amanda was sleeping over at her friend Connie's. She hadn't told Amanda that she was going out, let alone that she would be in by now. That had been a lie.

The next day, Jane changed her hair color, going with the dark red, the red that's almost black, wondering if it made her look younger, wondering what Jeff would think.

Everything that night, it had felt like cheating.

* * *

'Earth to Mom?'

Jane Talley focused on her daughter.

'Sorry.'

'What were you thinking?'

'If your father likes my hair.'

Amanda's face darkened.

'Like you should care. Please.'

'All right. I was wondering if that mess is going to blow up in his face. Is that better?'

They had stopped at Le Chine, a Vietnamese-Thai place in a mall near the freeway, ordering pho ga, which was a rice noodle soup, and crispy shrimp, which was, well, crispy shrimp. They ate there often, sometimes with Jeff. Jane had toyed with the plain white rice, but that was it. She put down her fork.

'Let me tell you something.'

'Can't we just go home? I don't want to be here, anyway. I told him that.'

'Don't say "him." He's your father.'

'Whatever.'

'He's having a hard time.'

'A year ago it was a hard time, now it's just boring.'

Jane was so tired of keeping all the balls in the air, of being the supportive nurturing mother, of waiting for Jeff to come to his senses, that she wanted to scream. Some days, she did; she would press her face into the pillow and scream as hard as she could. A flash of anger shook her so deeply that if Mandy rolled her eyes one more time she would snatch up the fork and stab her.

'Let me tell you something. This has been hard on everybody; on you, on me, on him. He's not like this. It was that goddamned job.'

'Here we go with the job.'

Jane called for the check, so livid that she didn't trust herself to look at her daughter. As always, the owner, a woman named Po who knew they were Talley's family, insisted that there was no charge. As always, Jane paid, this time quickly, in cash, not waiting for change.

'Let's go.'

Jane walked out to the parking lot, still not looking at Amanda, her heels snapping like gunshots on the pavement. She got behind the wheel but did not start the car. Amanda slid in beside her, pulling the door. The night air smelled of sage and dust and garlic from the restaurant.

'Why aren't we moving?'

'I'm trying not to kill you.'

When Jane figured out what she needed to say, she said it.

'I am scared to death that your father is finally going to give up and call it quits. I could see it in him tonight. Your father, he knows what this is doing to us, he's not stupid. We talk, Amanda; he says he's empty, I don't know how to fill him; he says he's dead, I don't know how to bring him to life. You think I don't try? Here we are, split apart, time passing, him wallowing in his goddamned depression; your father will end it just to spare us. Well, little miss, let me tell you something: I don't want to be spared. I choose not to be spared. Your father used to be filled with life and strength, and I fell in love with that special man more deeply than you can know. You don't want to hear about the job, fine, but only a man as good as your father could be hurt the way that job hurt him. If that's me making excuses for him, fine. If you think I'm a loser by waiting for him, tough. I could have other men; I don't want them. I don't even know if he still loves me, but let me tell you something: I love him, I want this marriage, and I goddamned fucking well care whether or not he likes my hair.'