Stone Cold (4 page)

Can’t wait until June 30.

Talk t    u soon,

     nah        y

Jack’s free hand covered his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief.

“
I missed my flight because of this, a junior high school crush?”

With his other hand he lowered the paper to his side and paced the sidewalk back and forth muttering under his breath.
He could feel the blood rushing to his head as his blood pressure increased.

“That woman must have been crazy! Why would she have been reading something so obviously trivial to adults especially while walking on a busy city street?”

As he continued to pace, Jack read the words on the paper over and over again. It was hard to tell who he was angrier with; the woman for reading the letter as she walked which caused him to miss his flight and nearly her own life or himself for becoming more involved than his normal demeanor allowed.

Then there was the boy.

“Why was he standing on the pink paper refusing to move his foot when I was clearly trying to get him to move it? Why did he run off so fast when I stood up in front of him?” Jack was clearly pissed off and full of questions that were spilling from his mouth.

After several minutes he
ceased his rambling and came to a standstill. With regained composure, he reached inside his trench coat and removed his cell phone. Once again looking at the paper, he took a picture of it and typed something into his phone.

“
Judging from her photo, maybe all is not lost. This girl may be worth all the trouble I’ve had to go through.” With a slight grin on his face, he gently caressed Hannah’s picture on the paper with his index finger.

“
Hannah, lovely Hannah. In the European market, you would, I mean you will definitely command a high price.”

Seconds later he turned, checked
his surroundings in a 360 degree motion and began walking swiftly in the direction from which he came.

Jack
could see a trash can on the corner, the perfect place to lay the pink paper to rest. With few people around no one would be the wiser and he could get on with his day. As far as he was concerned, he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for.

When
he neared his destination, he tore the paper, crumbled it into a ball, and without hesitation threw it into the can with a sky hook motion.

“Score! The basket is good
and he was fouled on the play! He get’s to go to the line for a …,” his words were cut short when he was startled by a figure that darted behind a dumpster in the alley next to the trash can.

Taken aback,
Jack’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Who’s there?”

He walked at a fast yet cautious pace toward the dumpster.

“I said who’s there?”

As he neared, Jack could see the shadow of a person crouched behind the far corner of the dumpster. For a moment he contemplated whether or not to proceed with his pursuit, unaware if this person was armed or not. His curiosity got the better of him.

W
hen he was within ten feet of his target, with a deepened voice he asked, “Who’s there? Is there something I can help you with?”

Before he could take another
step, the shadowy figure abruptly stood, took off on the run down the alley and disappeared around the corner. Jack’s instinct was to give chase but decided to forego that option when he reached the end of the alley. He no longer had a visual on who he’d determined to be a young boy in a royal blue jacket.

“That w
as the kid who’d been standing on the paper! He must’ve followed me here. I wonder what he’s up to?”

It took what seemed like a long time for Jack to catch his breath.
His legs were wobbly and he bent over with hands on knees, trying to slow his breathing to keep from passing out. Although in his early twenties he’d neglected his physical health for the past few years while focusing on building his business. Add that to the instant fear he’d felt when the boy suddenly leapt from behind the dumpster and it was no wonder he could barely breathe let alone move. As he slowly stood up he reached for his cell phone. His words were halting and breathy as he made a call.

“I’m on the corner
of East 106
th
Street and 2
nd
Avenue. Please pick me up immediately. No, I’m fine. I’m just a little out of breath. Please just get here as soon as possible.”

The limousine arrived witho
ut fanfare within minutes of his call. Clutching his stomach and not in the mood to wait for the driver, Jack opened the rear passenger door and got in. No sooner had he closed the door than did he see a trash collection truck emptying the trash can containing the pink paper.

“Drive slowly past that trash truck,” he instructed the driver.

He wanted to make sure the trash in that can was on its way to its final resting place. Jack was relieved to see that it appeared as though everything made it into the trucks compaction bin.

“You can take me straight home. It’s been a long day.”

Jack closed his eyes. It seemed as though his daily meditation was needed to clear his mind of the stressful events that had taken place over the past hour. He began with deep breathing, in and out, slowly, in and out. His head began to clear and his thoughts were being quieted by the steady breathing.

Once his thoughts stopped
swirling he focused on something he’d remembered. A sudden and clear vision appeared in Jack’s mind of the boy as he emerged from behind the dumpster.

“
His jacket was blue - a royal blue jacket. I wonder if he’s the boy in Hannah’s letter?”

  His loud voice
startled the limo driver so much he nearly lost control of the vehicle. He hit the brakes so hard that the contents of the limo including his passenger flew forward. Fortunately, amid the chaos, Jack had somehow managed to unconsciously fasten his seat belt which quickly tightened across his torso as designed. He was too amped up on the fact that he’d just put another piece of the puzzle together to notice the pain from the seatbelt that had slammed into his chest nor the ensuing bruise.

“
I’m betting he’s Conall. The woman who was carrying this letter must be connected to his school somehow.”

Pleased with his newfound knowledge, Jack was able to fully relax for the first time since he
’d exited the cab earlier that day. He was content to wait for the news to come out tomorrow. Hopefully it would disclose more facts surrounding the accident and who the victim was. His eyes, already closed, would not open again until the limo dropped him off at his Manhattan penthouse.  His final thought was about Hannah.

“There
’s no doubt she would be in high demand, especially as a pretty, young, blonde American girl. I’ll work on that tomorrow as well.”

Chapter 4

Shortly after being passed by the limousine, the trash truck pulled away from the curb with the contents of the trash can where the man had tossed the pink paper. A few seconds later, the young boy in the royal blue jacket appeared from the shadows and walked steadily in the direction the limo had taken. He quickly glanced at the trash can as he passed it and the corners of his mouth curled into a slight grin. After walking about a block or so, with clenched fists he somehow managed to hale a cab.

Not until he was safely inside the cab did C
onall dare to release his grip. There in both hands, was what was left of the pink paper. When the man started chasing him, he came back around and took it out of the trash can without being seen.

His heart was pou
nding so fast he thought he’d faint. Adrenaline was pouring through his body and the fear of looking at the remnants in his hands was almost more than he could handle. He didn’t want to think it might be too damaged to read.

At the accident scene, Conall
remembered hearing the guy who took the pink paper say his name was Jack Barnes. At first he couldn’t figure out why this man would be so interested in that paper. However, he started to put two and two together when he heard Jack say on his phone that he was delayed from picking up a girl to transport her to a client. He said his client would be very upset that he would have to wait longer to get what he paid for.

Then Conall heard him say
that Hannah was lovely and would definitely command a high price in the European market, just before he crumbled the paper and tossed it in the trash can. His stomach was in knots as he made an educated guess as to what Jack did for a living and that he saw Hannah as a commodity in his sick and twisted world.

It was
the longest cab ride Conall had ever taken. The minutes seemed like hours.  All he wanted to do was make it home and get the courage to face his biggest fear, to look at the letter and find out what it said. Two blocks from his house he could no longer resist the urge so he paid the cabbie and jumped out and ran the rest of the way. He had to work off some of the adrenaline rush anyway.

Everything was a blur as Conall sprinted home. He was so lost in thought he didn’t remember anything from when he left the cab until he entered his room. There was only one thing on his mind. His h
ands were shaking as he sat on the edge of his bed. The combination of running and his nervous reaction to what was on that pink paper had him covered in perspiration. Sweat was beginning to run down his face. His clothes were wet and clung tightly to his body. Conall pretended not to notice as he unraveled the pieces of paper in each hand.

He moved to his desk and laid each piece carefully in front of
him. He smoothed each one gently, outward from the center to the corners, careful not to damage them any more than they already were. When he was satisfied he’d removed as many wrinkles as possible, Conall began assembling the pieces with the precision of a plastic surgeon. When he finished he sat back to examine his work. All it needed now was some tape to hold it together and it could finally be read. Satisfied he had done the best reconstruction job anyone could do with what he had to work with he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After about a minute he slowly opened them and looked down. His heart picked up speed as the adrenaline began to flow again. He could hear and feel it pounding in his ears.

“Why am I so nervous about this message? I don’t even know her. I don’t even know yet if this was meant for me or if it’s even from her.” Conall was surprised by his reaction to
what was, up until this point only a piece of paper, that may or may not be from a girl he only knew as Hannah.

It’s now or ne
ver.”

His eyes moved to the page and focused on the words.

“Dear Office Staff at Cen  al Pa   E s  Hi    S   ol  555:

My    e is Hannah             and I’m trying to find a boy who is p   ibly a student at your    ool named Conall. He was wearing a royal                     et with a

C   HS    5 patch. We     yesterday on      ferry to Ellis Island but were not able to e         ge contact info   tion or      last names for that matter. 

I              ike for you to give him     ail if at all possible. 

Thank you for your          help.

  inc rely,

Han        y

Cel

Conall,

If you g                ail, my mom and I al    ys visit my aunt who lives in NYC on April 16 every year but we miss        this year because of the field trip so we’re going on June 30 instead. If you                 it and want           me again, I’ll be in Battery Park at the   enches in the Bosque Garden near t  e ferry

land ng at 1:00 P.M. on that day. Le             
we can both be there because if not, we     just going to have to try aga    next year on April 16 at the same time and place and every year after that until             lly meet if that’s what it takes. All joking aside, I’ll be wearing an athletic jacket t          s my first name on the back            easier to find. I can’t give out my address until we know each oth    b      r but you can call me. My email       ress should              is printout too.