Meet Me in Barcelona (21 page)

“He doesn't want money,” Carrie Ann said.

Grace opened her arms. “You want me? Here I am. Take me and let them go.”

“Grace,” Carrie Ann said. “For once in your life shut up and listen to me.”

“Just come on out, Stan. Let's talk.”

“Person,” Carrie Ann said.

“What?” Grace said.

“Skirt,” Carrie Ann said.

“What?”

“Go,” Carrie Ann said.

“But—” Grace's phone dinged again.

Now or I punish them. Text when you know the word.

Grace stared into Jake's eyes. He stared back.
I love you,
she mouthed. He nodded.

“He's okay with you being with Jean Sebastian,” Carrie Ann said. Jake made a noise; Carrie Ann jerked on the handcuff.

“Jake?” Grace said. It took a minute for Jake to look at Grace. When he did she got the feeling there was so much he wanted to say. She wished he could tell her something without anyone's knowing. They could probably manage to talk in code, but whoever was behind this wasn't letting them talk. What exactly was he threatening them with? What was stopping them from running right now? Grace didn't have the answers, but she wasn't stupid. They were terrified. Something was keeping them from turning and coming with her. Was he hiding somewhere with a gun on them? Were there explosives under their clothing? Whatever it was, it was enough to keep them in line, and Grace wasn't going to jeopardize them. “You're saying it's okay if Jean Sebastian helps me?”

“Yes,” Carrie Ann said.

“There's nothing to worry about, Jake,” Grace said. “I love you.” Jake nodded, then looked away. It took everything Grace had not to run to him and hug him and kiss him. When this was over, she was going to be the best girlfriend ever. Or wife. Maybe she would propose to him. She couldn't imagine the rest of her life without Jake Hart.

“Hurry,” Carrie Ann said. “There's a time limit.”

“What time limit?”

“Eight hours for the first clue,” Jake said.

“Or what?” Grace said.

“Please, Grace,” Jake said. “Please.” The tone of his voice got her attention. Jake sounded so vulnerable. Was Stan threatening to hurt him? She wanted to scream; she wanted to rush to Jake, throw herself in his arms, and never let go. She was going to get Stan for this. She would go along for now, but she was going to get him for this. Carrie Ann too if she was in on it.

“Is that it? Person? Five letters? The Picasso Museum?”

“The true victim,” Carrie Ann said. This time it was her voice that caught.
The true victim?

Jake looked at Grace again. He had the same look on his face as when he had found out about Carrie Ann. Grace knew that look. Whatever this was, it was her fault this was happening. She wished to God she knew why.

“Go,” Carrie Ann said.

“Wait,” Grace said. “I have to ask a question. Whoever you are. I have to.” She looked to the stones in the ceiling above as if he were part of them. Her phone dinged.

What?

 

“Jake's mom has been calling my parents. She wants him to call her. If he doesn't, she's going to worry. Then my parents are going to worry. Then they're all going to keep calling me. I'm already stressed, and I'm not a very good liar.” Grace couldn't help but glance at Carrie Ann on this. But she didn't react, didn't even blink.

I'll deal with it.

 

Grace wondered if this meant Stan was going to let Jake call his mom. She hoped so. She hoped wherever they were going back to wasn't horrible. She hoped they were eating, and sleeping, and being treated fairly.

“One more thing.” Grace's phone didn't ding again, but she knew Stan was listening. “I see Carrie Ann's lip is busted. If you lay a hand on her again, this deal is off and I go straight to the police.”

Grace glanced at Carrie Ann. She was surprised to see tears spilling out of Carrie Ann's eyes. Then, Jake took Carrie Ann's hand and held it. A wall of mixed emotions hit Grace. Of course Jake was going to comfort his fellow hostage. But it also felt like a knife to the chest. She wanted to crumple to the ground.

“Go,” Carrie Ann said again.

Every time they went outside, Jake waited for an opportunity to bolt. But Rafael was always their shadow, flexing those ridiculous knives, and situating himself so that he could easily overtake Jake if he tried to run. Rafael also had the home-field advantage; Jake was new to the neighborhood of Nou Barris, located in the northeast of Barcelona.

Although they were only a short metro ride to La Rambla, Jake might as well have been in a different country, given the odds of Grace's stumbling upon him here. It wasn't a tourist destination, and the two hadn't discussed coming here at all. Besides, Carrie Ann's psycho husband was never going to let Grace come here. And even if he did, even if as part of his sick game he tipped her off that they were here, there was no way she would be able to find their exact location. Known as a working-class neighborhood, Nou Barris was also home to several parks. Carrie Ann and Jake were given a half an hour to sit in one of them. Under the ever-watchful eye of Rafael of course. They were also told they were going to be allowed to have one meal out. Today it was to be at a café around the corner from the flat where the psycho was keeping them. After entering the café, Jake and Carrie Ann were told to sit against the far wall, while Rafael chose a table close to the door. This worked in Jake's favor, for Jake decided to keep his eye on
him
.

“Stop staring at him,” Carrie Ann said. “He's not going to budge.”

Jake turned back to Carrie Ann. She was ripping apart a piece of bread. Her fingers made him think of talons.

“How did Stan meet our Spanish friend in the first place?”

Carrie Ann shrugged, swept the piece of bread through the little plate of olive oil in front of her, and popped it into her mouth. Jake waited while she chewed. “He lived in Barcelona for a year,” she said. “Right out of high school. Raf was his roomie.”

“But you're the one who contacted Rafael this time? So we'd all have a free place to stay?”

“Stan wanted to see Grace. So did I. But I had no idea this was part of the plan, okay? I'm just as shocked as you are.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe everything you say.”

“Do you really think I care?”

“No,” Jake said. He leaned forward. Rafael started to get up. Jake put his hands up and leaned back. Rafael sat down again, with a shake of his finger. “I don't think you care about anyone but yourself.”

Carrie Ann slammed her hands down on the little table. The silverware clattered.

“Shhh,” Rafael said, although the only other patron was an old man by the front door who definitely looked too old to hear much of anything. The waiters were all in the kitchen, only coming out when pressed, and giving them looks that conveyed they'd rather not be bothered. Jake wondered how fast they'd be if he and Carrie Ann decided to do a dine-and-dash.

Jake kept his voice as low as possible. “Is there any kind of leverage you might have over Rafael?”

“He wants to sleep with me,” Carrie Ann said. “Would you like that? Should I whore myself out for Grace?”

“I don't care about your ‘tough girl' act, Carrie Ann. If you're truly a hostage—like me—I would think you'd want to do almost anything to get away from him and find Grace.”

“I'm not sleeping with him. How dare you.”

“What's your plan? Let Stan control everything? Hurt us. Hurt Grace? Tell me something—those tears in the park. Were they real?”

Carrie Ann looked away. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. “Grace is smart, you know. She'll figure it out.” Carrie Ann stuck the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She'd been smoking nonstop in their tiny little room. If she lit up here, Jake was going to rip up every single cigarette in her pack. That night, Jake was handcuffed to the pipe, stuck on the floor, while Carrie Ann was uncuffed on the bed. He hadn't figured out which team she was playing for. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a little bit of both. Whatever suited her in the moment. He felt a surge of anger that this girl had descended on Grace's life. Carrie Ann was cunning and mean at times, vulnerable and sweet at others. She was hard to look away from, but even harder to be with. He'd only been in her presence a few days, and he was already thoroughly confused. He could only imagine Grace's trying to deal with her as a child. Of course Carrie Ann would have been a child too, but this was almost impossible to imagine. And from what Grace had said, Carrie Ann had been forced to grow up awfully fast.

The puzzle. The stupid game. Another bit of information Carrie Ann was keeping from him. He was damn sure she knew the answer, and she wouldn't tell him. “It's between them,” she said whenever he asked. Jake lifted the little container of sugar on the table. He shook the single rose in a little vase. He rattled their plates and shook out their napkins. Carrie Ann glanced at Rafael, then lowered her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Proving there's no bug. Rafael is way over there. He can't hear us.”

“So?”

“So you're going to tell me what that ‘clue' was all about. You're going to tell me everything you know that pertains to my wife—”

“Your wife?”

Jake stopped. It had just slipped out. The engagement ring was back in their flat in La Rambla. Had Grace found it? He should have proposed when he had the chance. It was torture being stranded from her. Her thirtieth birthday was in a few days. It was supposed to be their last full day in Barcelona. “Girlfriend, whatever,” Jake said. “Start talking.” He watched Carrie Ann's face contort. She was either a consummate actress, or she was truly afraid. What was stopping her from running? Besides Rafael? Jake couldn't figure it out. He wasn't running because the psycho had said he'd hurt Grace. And, of course, Rafael. Those stupid knives. He wore them constantly, missing no opportunity to clench his fists so they could see and hear the knives shoot out. But would Rafael actually try and hurt Carrie Ann? Jake didn't think so. Which meant she was either a part of this sick plan, or she was just as worried about Grace as he was.

“Look. I know you're upset,” Carrie Ann said, leaning in. “But you got to see her. She's okay. You saw for yourself.”

“For now. And—are you really that clueless?”

“I guess I am, Romeo. What?”

“I had to stand a few feet away from the girl I love. I couldn't touch her. I couldn't warn her. I couldn't protect her. It killed me. Don't you get that?”

“She's worried about you too.”

“I want to meet him. I want to talk to him. Tell Rafael to tell Stan to face me. Man to man.” Carrie Ann looked at Jake. He couldn't help but think she was beautiful. But it wasn't the kind of beauty that inspired joy. It was the kind of beauty that ripped out hearts and lied to your face.

“Do you want to challenge him to a duel?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“He's already doing what it takes. Just let him play his little word game with Grace, and before you know it this will all be over.”

“You really think someone who is psycho enough to play this sick game in the first place is just going to let us all go when she gets the answers right?”

“I'm counting on it.”

This time it was Jake who slammed his fist on the table. “Not good enough for me,” he said. “I'm out of here.” He stood. Rafael stood. Jake threw open his arms. “What are you going to do? Kill me in the middle of the restaurant?”

“No,” Rafael said. “I will chase you. I will kill you near one of the aqueducts.”

“What do you want? Money? Grace and I can get you money.”

“Sit down,” Carrie Ann said.

Jake leaned down. “If I run, Rafael chases me. Maybe he catches up with me; maybe he doesn't. But you'll be free. Then you can run.”

“And then he kills Grace.”

Jake sat, stared at her as hard as he could, as if that would help dig the truth out of her. “And you really care about that?”

Carrie Ann opened her purse. She took out her wallet. She opened it, then handed it to Jake. At first, he didn't want to take it. “Look through it,” Carrie Ann said.

Jake took the wallet. The driver's license caught his eye.

“Pull it out,” Carrie Ann said.

“It's Grace's license,” Jake said.

“Her credit cards are there too.” Carrie Ann pulled a passport out of her purse.

“You stole her ID?”

“Guess what ID she has?”

“Carrie Ann.”

“Bingo. She even used it to get into the club. She also has my engagement ring.”

“You dropped that into a beer. She was saving it for you.”

“The police won't know that. They'll think she used my credit card to pay for the flat you were staying in.”

“Why would they think she used your credit card to pay for the flat? We thought we won the trip. That it was paid for.”

“Yes, but it was actually paid for on my credit card.”

“Grace didn't know that!”

“Jake. Don't you see? It doesn't matter. What matters is how the police will view it. Especially when they find out that she used my credit card later for a few items while shopping.”

“Just what are you getting at?”

“Identity theft.”

“You're stealing her identity?”

“No. She's stealing mine.”

“Come again?”

“Remember when we were separated?”

At one point Rafael had come into the room and “taken” Carrie Ann. She had been gone for several hours. When she had returned, she wouldn't talk. “Yes.”

“He took me to the police station.”

“What?”

“I had to fill out a report. Accusing Grace of stealing my identity.”

“Come again?”

“She has my ID, my credit cards—she even used one yesterday morning at a kiosk in La Rambla. The bouncer will remember her using my ID. She has my diamond ring—”

“It's all innocent!”

“You have no idea how ironic it is.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'll get to that. The point is, he's orchestrated all of this. Don't you see? He's ten steps ahead of all of us.”

“So now if Grace tries to go to the police—”

“They'll detain her. Which is why he keeps warning her. No police. For her own good I hope she listens.”

“Why? Why is he doing this?”

Carrie Ann opened her purse. She removed a picture and showed it to Jake. The picture looked old. It had been taken underneath a tree house. Two little girls, one blond, one brunette. Maybe ten years old. Their faces were dirty. Their arms were looped around each other. Big grins on their faces. In the background stood an overweight boy with hair that desperately needed a cut. He looked out of place. He was staring at the girls, not smiling.

“You and Grace,” Jake said. “Is that Stan?”

“The one and only.”

Jake brought the picture closer and studied it, trying to figure out what Stan would look like now. It was useless. “So, what? This picture is proof that you care about Grace?”

“Point to Grace,” Carrie Ann said. Jake took the picture and pointed to the brunette. Carrie Ann looked just as Grace had described. Blond, scruffy, tough. But vulnerable too. There it was again, the ambivalence he felt toward Carrie Ann. If he was honest, there had been moments of sexual attraction too. He couldn't help it. She was a beautiful woman. And Grace was probably attracted to Jean Sebastian as well. That killed Jake. Because he trusted himself. He didn't trust that asshole no matter what anybody else said.

“Point to me,” Carrie Ann said. Jake hated these games, but he went ahead and pointed to Carrie Ann. “I'm sure Grace has told you the story of Carrie Ann since you've been here?” Jake shrugged. That was between him and Grace. “Orphan girl? Nothing to her name but a little vinyl suitcase? A chip on her shoulder bigger than she could carry? More foster homes than she could count? No better than one of the strays you treat in your practice, Jake. Carrie Ann had nothing. No love. No family. No hope. Until Grace. Grace was the only good thing in her life. Ever. To this day. You can think whatever you want of me. But these two—” Carrie Ann held up the picture. It shook in her hands. “They're family. And I'm not going to abandon her. I did that once. Not this time, do you hear me? Not this time.”

“I hope you're telling the truth. Because we have to do something. We can't just sit around and let Stan take control like some kind of Wizard of Oz. You have to tell me everything you know.”

“Well, for starters—Carrie Ann? I know her.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

“You have no clue who that girl really is. No clue.”

“You are a game player, aren't you? I don't care about whatever little secret from the past you're holding over her head—”

Carrie Ann opened her purse. She handed him Grace's ID. Jake picked up Grace's driver's license, ran his finger along the picture. “Why are you showing me this again?”

Carrie Ann picked up the photograph of the three children. She pointed to the brunette. “That's me,” she said.

“No,” Jake said. “That's Grace.”

“It is Grace, and it's also me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just like this driver's license.” She held up Grace's driver's license. “This time it's her picture,” Carrie Ann said. “But it's my identity.”

“Stop it. Just what the fuck are you saying?”

“I'm saying my name isn't Carrie Ann. It's Grace. I'm Grace Ann Sawyer.”