Scammed (24 page)

He found them in Shirl's room, in almost the same position as the day before. The older woman was propped on pillows, looking a little better. But Lucy's anxious eyes consumed him as she slid off the bed and hurried to him.

“It's okay,” Greg said. “I got it. He's counting it now.”

“Oh, thank God!” She almost fell against him, alternately hugging and patting him in relief. “That's wonderful. Thank you. We're so . . .” She broke off and hurried to the bed. “Mum, did you hear? It's over.”

“Yes, dear,” Shirl replied. “Thank you, Greg. I don't know how we'll ever be able to repay you.”

He made appropriate rejoinders, saying that the whole thing was his fault anyway, knowing also that it was far from over. If Jay was satisfied with his prize, and had no cruel games planned, he'd still probably want to restrain his prisoners so they couldn't raise the alarm after his departure. Assuming that was what he had in mind and not something more permanent.

Greg was in a quandary as to whether to tell the others about the police. Though it was good news, it could also cause a lot of anxiety. Probably it would be best to wait till they were safely alone to reveal that help would soon be on the way. He had just reached that conclusion when Trev entered the bedroom.

Ignoring the women, he gestured for Greg to come with him. Jay was waiting in the living room, in his usual armchair. The open gym bag was on the floor at his feet. “You did good, partner,” Jay said with a grin. “It's all there.”

“Of course,” Greg replied quickly. “I said I'd get it. I kept my part of the bargain. Now, please, will you just take it and leave us alone?”

Jay pursed his lips and glanced into his lap. Greg noticed that a stack of bills lay there. Jay picked up the money and held it out to Trev. “There you go, big guy. Down payment. Count it and get outa here.”

Trev took the money but didn't count it. He just stuffed the thick wad in his pocket and left. A moment later the front door slammed, and soon there came the sound of an engine starting. Through the window, Greg caught a glimpse of the van, heading down the driveway.

He felt relief, knowing it to be premature. Jay's “muscle” had departed, but
he
was the dangerous one. The crisis wouldn't be over until he was gone too. As if reading his thoughts, Jay rose, picked up the money bag and said, “Well, partner, I guess you're wondering when I'm gonna fuck off too, eh?”

Greg shrugged, wondering at the same time how long it would be before Trev was apprehended. The roadblock would no doubt be well out of sight of the Lynley gate. Even if Jay followed right along—presumably in Lucy's car—he wouldn't know what had happened till too late. God, the whole thing could be over in minutes.

This fond hope, however, was dashed almost instantly. “You're not getting rid of me yet,” Jay grinned, glancing at his watch. “I reckon I'm just gonna relax a while. Maybe have a bite, before I hit the road.”

Damn! Greg was disappointed but not surprised. He'd thought earlier that Jay might wait until dark before leaving. Well, the cops were prepared for that too. It was arranged that they would do nothing till he appeared. Later, Greg might even be able to get through a call to Tremblay, explaining the situation. But for now, they'd just have to hang on. Their captor seemed content. As long as he could be kept that way until his departure, everything could yet turn out all right.

“In that case,” Greg said quietly, “perhaps I can get Lucy to fix an early supper.”

“Good thinking.” Jay checked his watch again. “Tell your lady to go to it.”

• • •

Lucy made the meal while Greg was allowed to keep Shirl company. He'd have liked to make a call to Tremblay, but since there was no immediate emergency, he didn't want to risk being caught. Also, to phone in front of Shirl would have involved revealing the police presence, knowledge he still considered best kept to himself. So he tried to be cheerful, seeing to Shirl's needs and reassuring her as best he could.

It was 5:30
PM
when Lucy had the food ready; she had fried sausages and cooked up vegetables and pasta in her usual skillful manner. She took a tray to her mother, then the others sat down to eat like a peculiar sort of family, Greg thought. Jay, with his bag of money nearby, ate calmly. The others picked away, trying to hide their impatience. But it was in fact Jay who, several times during the meal, looked at his watch. Then, when his plate was empty, the young man put down his utensils neatly and checked his watch one last time.

“Six o clock,” Jay said cheerfully. “Well, guys, I guess that about clinches it.”

“Clinches what?” Greg asked.

“Oh, I think you know,” Jay replied. He got up from the table and produced a cellphone. “Trev had strict instructions to call me as soon as he got into Duncan. He thought that was to set up a meeting for later. What he
didn't
know was that I'd still be here—waiting to see if he made it out okay.”

Greg's insides went cold. “What are you talking about?”

Jay grinned, his expression edged in ice. “Bait! Big Trev was bait—which your cop buddies, who I suspected might be waiting out there, have swallowed whole. Letting me know—partner—that you've double-crossed me again.”

A
fter the first dreadful moment, what really caught Greg's attention was the expression on Lucy's face. More than simple shock, it was as if, deep down, she'd always known Greg would fail them. Whether she actually believed this didn't matter; the thought made him abandon all pretense. “Okay! But it wasn't my fault,” he said desperately. “I didn't go to the police. They came to me.”

“Bullshit!”

“No! It was the
money
. That large an amount of cash made the bank manager suspicious. He told the cops, and when I went to get it, they were waiting. I had to tell them what it was for. I had no option.”

“And I've got no option but to waste you,” Jay snarled, raising his gun. “You're fucking dead, buddy.”

“No!” Greg cried, backing off, almost tripping over Lucy, who had jumped up and now moved between the two men.

“Don't do it, Jay,” Lucy said steadily.

Appalled, Greg tried to pull Lucy from in front of him. But instead of shooting, Jay laughed. “Shit,” he said, “this bitch has got more guts than you.”

“No,
listen
!” Lucy replied, with such intensity that Jay's gun wavered. “If the police
have
caught your friend, they must be close by. If they hear shooting, they'll know there's no point in waiting anymore. They'll probably storm the place. Have you thought of that?”

Jay obviously hadn't. Nor had Greg, for that matter. Before either could respond, Lucy walked toward the door. “While you do,” she said firmly, “I'm going to my mother. This has nothing to do with her or me. It never did. But if you kill us, Jay, the police will do the same to you. The only use we are is alive. Greg, I'm sorry. If Jay has any sense, he'll give up. But, in any case . . . you'll just have to work it out.”

Lucy gave Greg a last long look, an expression that somehow managed to convey sorrow and resignation but also encouragement. Then she turned down the hall. A moment later, in the dull silence that followed, came the sound of a closing door.

“Now that's one ballsy bitch,” Jay said at last.

Greg, who was thinking the same thing, nodded agreement. “And she was right. This has nothing to do with her or her mother.” He gulped mentally, but went on. “You've got to believe I didn't mean for the police to get involved. It's my fault for starting this thing in the first place, and I blame myself for that. But I've done the best I could since then. And you
have
got your money. Why don't you just take it and go? I won't try to stop you.”

That at least made Jay laugh. “No shit! The only thing you could stop right now, partner, is a fucking bullet.”

“I only meant I won't try to give the alarm.”

“Oh, yeah? Think I believe that?”

“You don't have to. You could tie me up and . . .”

He stopped. He'd had a sudden idea. It was dangerous, and could put them in an even worse position, but it was at least something to bargain with: a course of action which, even to the angry Jay, might seem an advantage, and better than creating mayhem. It could also backfire. Just because Jay got something didn't mean he'd return the favour. Lucy had stopped him cold once with the reminder that shooting would likely bring in the police. But shooting wasn't the only way he could do harm, as poor Hatch's body had shown. Jay was paranoid and probably crazy—which also meant that they had little to lose. On balance, it was worth a try.

Having come rapidly to this conclusion, Greg reached into his pocket and brought out his cellphone. He said calmly, “If you promise not to harm the women, there's a way I could buy you some time.”

Jay stared from the phone to Greg. “What are you trying to pull now?”

“Nothing. If you look in the phone menu, you'll see the number of Sergeant Tremblay from the Victoria police.”

That surprised Jay. “
He's
out there?”

“Yes. When the RCMP wanted to know why I needed all that cash, I had to bring him in to prove I wasn't a crook like . . . well, you know. He told me to phone him in case of emergency.”

“No fucking shit!” Jay grabbed the phone, examining it closely.

“By now they'll have caught Trev,” Greg continued, “just like you figured. But what they
don't
know is that you're wise to them. If I call the sergeant and tell him that we're okay, that you don't know anything's gone wrong but you're cautious and don't plan to leave till, say the early hours, when everything's quiet, then they'll hold off. And that'll give you time to escape.”

Jay was still examining the phone. He gave Greg a look, if not of respect, at least of true surprise. “You're a slippery bastard.”

“No. I just don't want you to hurt anyone. Anything's worth that.”

With a sudden savage move, Jay shoved the phone back across the table. “Including being a lying asshole.”

“I'm not lying,” Greg said desperately. “Look, I can prove it. If you call that number on the phone, you can hear Tremblay identify himself. Then I'll take the phone and tell him the story. You'll be able to hear the whole thing. And since the police have no idea that you're on to them, he'll believe it. Come on, it'll work. What do you say?”

Passing his gun from hand to hand, Jay began to pace. Eventually he said, “If the cops did keep their distance, what makes you believe I can get out of here?”

There was a pause. At last Greg said, “Well, I've been thinking. Since you set Trev up, on the chance he
was
caught, you must have had something in mind. No point in having a warning system without an alternative plan.”

Jay's suspicious expression morphed into a grin that was almost effusive. “Shit,” he chuckled, “what a waste.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and me. With your brains and my smarts, we'd have made awesome partners. If you want to know—I have got another way out. So—okay. Phone your cop buddy.”

Needing no further urging, Greg picked up the phone. He handed it to Jay, who pocketed his gun and activated Tremblay's number. Almost immediately, a voice, audible even to Greg, said, “Hello, Tremblay.”

Jay handed the phone to Greg.

“Hello, Sergeant,” Greg said, talking low as if he feared to be overheard, “this is Greg. Did you catch the first guy?”

Tremblay said that they had. Carefully, never taking his eyes off his captor's face, Greg told the story that they had agreed on. Tremblay seemed pleased, and both Greg and Jay could hear the sergeant making asides to the other officers, conveying the news. Assured that the captives were all right, the police would sit tight until either Jay appeared or Greg called back.

When it was over, Jay looked pleased. “Okay, that's taken care of. Good thinking, Mr. Lothian. Like I said, we could have been real good partners.”

That old song again. Did he honestly mean it? No, it was probably just his weird way of making conversation. Greg wanted to go to Lucy, to tell her the news, that a sort of bargain appeared to have been made, that things were looking up. But he figured he'd better not appear to take too much for granted just yet. This was a volatile guy, and the cooler he played it, the safer all round.

“I don't know what help I could have been in the sort of things you do,” he said, considering it useless, not to mention pathetic, to try to lie. “But I certainly admire your resourcefulness.”

“What do you mean?” Jay asked, his tone changing.

“Having an escape plan. Very clever.”

“Gee, thanks. And I bet you'd just love to know what it is, eh?”

“No, I . . .” Greg began, then stopped short, as he realized that Jay's gun had reappeared. Since he was seated at the table while Jay was standing, the weapon, held casually at waist level, was pointed directly at Greg's head.

“You're doing it again, aren't you, partner,” Jay whispered, beginning to circle. “Figuring how to double-cross me.”

Greg felt deathly cold. As Jay moved behind him, he could feel, like an actual physical caress, the aiming point of the gun tracking around his head, from eye to ear to the nape of his neck. He wanted to look back, to see what was happening, to register if Jay's finger was beginning to exert pressure on the trigger, but he didn't dare. Any move now could set off a fatal counter-move behind him. If only he stayed perfectly still, this moment of horror and yet of continued existence might last forever. But it could not; he knew that. And before it ended, there was one thing that had to be said.

“Whatever you think you have to do,” he heard a voice that seemed to be his own saying, “please don't hurt the women . . .”