24 Hours (34 page)

“You look like you’re going to faint,” Davidson said with genuine concern. “Why don’t you come into my office and sit down?”

“No. I’ve got to run.”

“May I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks, Gray. Really.”

“Green tea? Espresso?”

Somehow Karen conjured a smile, a feat of magic under the circumstances. “It’s just a summer cold. I’ll be fine.”

The broker didn’t look convinced. She touched his arm above the elbow and squeezed with an intimate pressure. “I’m
fine,
Gray. Thanks for worrying.”

Davidson’s critical faculties melted. Men were so easy to manipulate. She gave the receptionist a wave and hurried toward the door.

“Go straight home and get some rest,” Davidson called after her.

She held up a hand in acknowledgment but did not turn, and she barely slowed when she went through the varnished rosewood door and down the steps to the parking lot.

The parking lot of the Magnolia Federal Bank in Biloxi was filling up fast. People were cashing pay-checks, hitting the ATM machines, and carrying in payroll bags. Will could see why Hickey had picked this branch. Cheryl sat beside him in tense silence, waiting for Hickey’s go-ahead call. The temperature was rising fast in the parked car, so Will started the engine and switched on the air conditioner.

When the cell phone rang, he snatched it up, but Cheryl put her hand on his wrist and took the phone from his hand.

“It’s me,” she said. “Right...Okay.” She hit END and looked at Will. “The money’s here. He said you should go in and get it.”

Will shut off the engine and looked at the double-glass doors of the bank. “Give me the phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking it in with me.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I’m taking the phone.”

Cheryl snapped her head away from him, but she did not resist when he took the phone from her hand. He slipped it into his pocket along with the Tempo’s keys, then got out and started walking toward the bank.

SEVENTEEN

Hickey drove south along the interstate at fifty-five miles per hour, his face wet with sweat. His right thigh was thoroughly soaked in blood.

“I think some more stitches broke,” he said. “You aren’t much of a doctor. I think you’re going to have to do some repairs here.”

Karen had not given the suturing her best effort. “I don’t have Will’s bag. I could probably tape it up, if you stop at a drugstore.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Hickey looked in the rearview mirror, then changed lanes. “But I may have to.”

“Are we on our way to get Abby?”

“We’re on our way to a drugstore.”

“Are you letting us go when you get the money?”

“That’s up to your husband. Let’s see if he can follow simple instructions. Start looking for a drugstore.”

Karen glanced to her left, searching the strip malls that lined the interstate. She was pretty sure there was an Eckerd’s along here somewhere.

“There’s a cop back there,” Hickey said, straightening in his seat.

She started to turn, but he grabbed her knee and said, “Don’t look.”

“Cops are always patrolling this interstate,” she told him.

“This one’s acting squirrelly. He’s ten lengths back, but hanging on me like a trailer. He’s running our plate.”

“Were you speeding?”

“You think I’m going to speed today? This is your husband, goddamn it. The son of a bitch called somebody. That’s the only way they’d know what to look for.”

“What about the shooting at our house?”

“They wouldn’t have issued an APB on this vehicle off that. Not yet, anyway,” He checked the rearview again. “That SOB is still back there.”

“You’re paranoid! And you’re driving suspiciously.” Karen spotted the Eckerd’s on her left. “Take the next exit. Northside Drive. There’s our drugstore.”

Hickey leaned toward her, then craned his neck backward and looked up through the moonroof.

“What are you
doing
? Watch the road!”

“Paranoid, huh? Take a look.”

The moonroof was tinted against the sun, but even so, Karen could see the large dot against the sky. It was a helicopter.

“That’s probably the WLBT traffic chopper,” she said. But for the first time, she wondered.

“Traffic chopper, my ass.” Hickey reached down and punched a number into the cell phone. After a few seconds of silence, it began to ring.

“Joey?” said Huey.

“That’s right, boy. You all ready?”

“Ready.”

“Were you born ready?”

“Um . . . yeah.”

“It’s time to go to the backup.”

“Okay.”

Karen’s chest tightened. “You said that before. What’s the backup plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“May I please speak to Abby?
Please.
”

Hickey sighed with frustration. “Huey, is the kid right there?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Karen’s maternal radar went on alert. “Has she been to the bathroom a lot this morning, Huey?”

“She sure has.”

“Oh God. Her sugar’s going up. She needs her shot.”

“And I’m bleeding to death,” Hickey said. “Stay cool. You’ve got stuff with you, and we’ll be there in plenty of time.”

“When?”

“Here she comes!” Huey sang out.

“Abby?” cried Karen.

After a brief silence, Abby said, “Mama?”

“Goddamn it,” Hickey muttered.

Karen’s heart leaped. “I’m here, baby. Are you all right?”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m going south, like Daddy says.”

Karen fought to keep control of her voice. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s on her way to get you right now.”

“You are?”

“I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Put Huey back on,” Hickey said.

“I’ll be there before you know it,” Karen said again. “Now, put Mr. Huey back on, baby.”

“Okay. Hurry, Mom.”

“I’m on my way!”

“Joey?” said Huey.

“I’m here. You know what to do? Everything just like I told you.”

“I remember.”

“We’ll talk when we see each other.”

“Okay. But, Joey?”

“What?”

“Is everything gonna be okay?”

“You bet. Get going, now.”

“Okay. Bye-bye.”

Just before Hickey pressed END, Karen heard Abby yell, “Bye, Mom!” and she filled with pride. Abby was hanging in there.

“Bastards,” Hickey said, looking up through the moonroof again. “If your husband had done what he was supposed to, you’d be going straight to your little girl right now.”

Karen’s heart stuttered. “You said we were!”

“We’re not going anywhere until I lose this tail.”

“You don’t know it
is
a tail.”

A scornful grunt was his only comment. “Your husband had better be getting my goddamn money.”

“He is! You know he is.”

“He’s trying to fuck me over is what I know. And I’ll tell you this. If they try to stop this truck—”

“I’ll say whatever you tell me to!” she promised. “All I want to do is get to Abby.”

Hickey checked the rearview mirror again. “The squad car dropped back out of sight. They’re playing us loose. They want to follow us to the girl.”

Oh, Jesus,
Karen thought.
Will, what did you do?

Without warning, Hickey veered across two lanes of traffic and onto an exit ramp. At the bottom, he swung under the interstate and onto a wide boulevard.

“Lakeland Drive?” said Karen. “Is this the way we went last night?”

“You just sit tight, Mom.”

“This is the road to the airport.”

“That it is.” Hickey laughed softly.

“This way, Dr. Jennings.”

Will turned down a hall that led off the bank’s main lobby and followed the secretary up a short flight of stairs. Upon entering the bank, he had seen that dealing with a teller was not the way to go. There were lines at the windows, and even the loan officers in the glassed-in cubicles had customers. He walked up to a secretary, identified himself, and asked to see the senior officer at the bank. When she asked what it concerned, he told her he was receiving a wire transfer of two hundred thousand dollars and wouldn’t deal with anyone but the top man. The young woman made a call, then asked him to follow her up the stairs.

The staircase ended at another hall, this one lined with doors. She led him to the one at the end, knocked, then opened it and showed him into a typical branch bank office, furnished out of mail-order catalogs . Behind a mahogany veneer desk sat a balding man in his early fifties, with shining skin and a line of sweat on his upper lip. He stood.

“Hello, Dr. Jennings. That’ll be all, Cindy.”

The door closed behind Will, and the man held out a plump hand. “I’m Jack Moore, vice president.”

Will shook the hand and looked around the office again. There was a small door on the wall to his right, partially open.

“What’s that?”

“My private rest room,” Moore said.

“Oh.”

“How can I help you, Doctor? Your wire came in a few minutes ago. What would you like to do with the money?”

“I want to withdraw it in cash. I also need to withdraw some personal funds. I have a hundred and fifty thousand in CDs deposited with this bank in Jackson.”

Moore wiped his upper lip. “You want to walk out of here with three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in a suitcase?”

“That’s right.” Cheryl had retrieved a cheap briefcase from her suite as they left the Beau Rivage.

“I see. Well . . .” Moore glanced at his rest room door. “If that’s what you want, I guess . . .”

The rest room door opened, and a tall man with sandy hair and blue eyes stepped out.

Will backpedaled to the door. “What the hell is this?”

“Dr. Jennings,” said the stranger. “I’m Special Agent Bill Chalmers. I’m fully aware of your situation, and I’m here to help you.”

Will was so stunned that he simply stood where he was. “But—How did you get here? How did you know where to go? Harley Ferris didn’t know where I was going.”

Chalmers nodded. “There’s a sofa behind you, Doctor. Please sit down. We don’t have much time, and we have a lot to do.”

“I only have one thing to do. Get my money and get out of here.”

“Please sit down, Doctor. I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

Will backed up until his calves hit something padded. He sat.

“Do you know a cardiovascular surgeon named James McDill?”

“McDill? Sure. He’s a member out at Annandale. He doesn’t play much golf. Collects cars, I think.” Even as he spoke the word “collects,” something ticked in Will’s brain.

“Exactly one year ago,” said Chalmers, “James McDill’s son, Peter, was kidnapped in exactly the same way your daughter was yesterday.”

Will blinked in disbelief.

“He didn’t report the crime until last night, and nobody knows why better than you. But this week he was overcome with anxiety that it might happen again. He called our Jackson field office around eleven last night. I was on duty, and we’ve been working ever since to piece together what’s going on.”

“Have you talked to Harley Ferris? Do you know where my little girl is?”

“Mr. Ferris is working with us now. We’ve augmented CellStar’s tracing crew with a SWAT team, and we just had a very lucky break. Get a grip on yourself, Doctor. The man holding Abby just took a call on his cell phone, and he forgot to switch it off. The SWAT team estimates they’re two minutes from your daughter’s position.”

Waves of shock and hope buffeted Will. Even after Ferris’s assurances, Chalmers’s words seemed incomprehensible. “What do they plan to do when they get there?”

Chalmers walked up to the couch and squatted, so that his eyes were level with Will’s. “We think we should go in and get her.”

“You mean, guns blazing?”

“Not quite, no. We have special entry devices. Heat sensors and video to accurately place human bodies in the structure. They’ll use special stun grenades to incapacitate the tango, then—”

“Tango?” Will interrupted.

“Sorry, that’s radio slang for terrorists. These guys train to rescue hostages from terrorists.”

“Can’t you try to talk him out?”

Chalmers smiled patiently. “We could do that. But it’s our understanding that the man holding Abby is mentally handicapped. The leader is still loose. He could call this Huey at any time and order him to kill your daughter.”

Will felt as though he and Abby were standing in the path of a truck and couldn’t move. “Can’t Ferris shut off Huey’s phone?”

“Yes, but that might panic him. Or he might be under orders to kill your daughter if his communications are cut off. Right now—while Huey and Abby are isolated from the leader—we have a golden opportunity to go in. Before the situation deteriorates any further.”

After a night spent in ignorance, Will was having difficulty processing the sudden influx of information. “I still don’t understand how you got here. How you knew it would be this bank.”

“We didn’t. We put an agent in every bank of any size in Gulfport and Biloxi. I requested this one because it was the largest. I flew down early this morning. The minute your wire came in, I contacted my Special Agent-in-Charge in Jackson. His name’s Frank Zwick. And he wants to talk to you.”

“Is he in contact with the SWAT team?”

“Yes.”

“Please call him. And there’s a woman outside in my rental car. One of the kidnappers.”

Chalmers nodded. “Cheryl Lynn Tilly. We’ll leave her alone until the team hits the cabin. If she gets suspicious and comes inside, you can tell her there’s some delay with paperwork. We have more agents converging on the bank right now, but they’ll be discreet coming in.”

“I can’t believe all this.”

The FBI agent smiled. “In a few minutes, your daughter will be in FBI custody, Doctor.”

Will was afraid to let himself believe it.

“You did well getting Harley Ferris involved. I only wish you would have called us earlier. Trusted us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I understand.” Chalmers got up and went to Moore’s desk. The bank’s vice president looked as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening before his eyes. “Would you excuse us, Mr. Moore?”