“Other than kidnapping a woman in broad daylight in the middle of a big city — no.”
“It sounds like they’ve planned it well so far,” Sally noted.
“That’s for sure. The abduction was ballsy, but it was done with precision and planning.”
“They sound like they’re good,” Sally replied. “And from what you’re telling me, the pay phone, on that road, left him…”
“…with options,” Mac finished, frustration seeping into his voice. “Damn it. To me, abductions are the worst. You know something bad is coming and you’re almost powerless to stop it, no matter how hard you try.” He undid his shorts. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he grumbled.
Mac went into the bathroom and started the shower, letting the water heat up. The house was over seventy years old and had a bathroom that, while remodeled, retained its original charm and fixtures. The shower poured water into a long and wide cast-iron bathtub.
Climbing inside the shower, he tilted his head up and let the warm water wash over his head while he had both arms up against the wall of the shower. He needed to unwind. For five minutes he let the shower loosen his muscles, letting his mind clear. The shower curtain slid open and Sally stepped into the shower behind him. He turned to say something, but she put her fingers to his mouth and then kissed him lightly.
“I know you. You’re all wound up.” She reached for the soap. “I’m going to help you relax. Otherwise you’re no good to Lyman, and he needs you.”
Mac didn’t fight it and just let the water run down his body while Sally soaped his back and lightly rubbed his muscles, letting her breasts brush lightly against his back. After a few minutes of washing and rubbing, she spoke.
“What about the FBI? They’re in?”
“Yes,” Mac replied, not moving. “We’re lucky… I guess. Their best kidnapping guy — this guy named John Burton — was coming to town to do some training, so now he’s working it.”
Sally detected his uncertain tone.
“What’s the problem with the FBI guy?” she asked, washing around his right hip.
“I don’t know, he was awfully…”
“What?”
“Helpful. Seemed like a good guy.”
“And that’s bad?” Sally asked, lightly reaching around him, washing lightly down his lower stomach, moving ever lower.
“No, except…” Mac hesitated, Sally’s hand having gone very low. He was about to turn to her when she lightly pushed him back into place.
“Juuuust relaaaaax,” she murmured, moving the soap to her left hand, “and tell me about the FBI guy.”
Mac did as he was told and let her continue washing and relaxing him.
“He said all the right things. ‘We’re here to help, we’ll coordinate with you, access to everything they have, anything you need, we’re going to get Hisle’s girl back,’ so on and so forth.”
“Again, that’s bad?” Sally replied, coming around in front of him.
Mac smiled — a small wan one.
“The FBI can often be territorial and condescending. They consider the local cops to be good for traffic control, writing parking tickets, breaking up domestics — and maybe, just maybe, a run-of-the-mill homicide. We usually don’t have college or law degrees, nor have we gone through the mystical Quantico. We’re not the almighty F-B-fuckin’-I.”
“You’re paranoid, you know that?”
“Only the paranoid survive.”
Sally laughed and then continued.
“I’ve hear that about the FBI before, but they want to make the case just like you do. They want to get Shannon back — maybe not at the emotional level that you do, but they want to get her back just the same.”
“You’re probably right,” he said, leaning down and kissing her on the lips. She returned the kiss, slowly putting her arms up around his neck and pulling him to her. After kissing him deeply, Sally pulled away and looked Mac in the eye as she slowly guided him down onto the bottom of the tub and then followed, straddling his body while kissing him deeply, probing with her soft, moist tongue. Mac pulled his mouth away.
“Is this what you meant by relaxing me?” he whispered.
“Uh huh,” Sally replied in a hushed moan. She rose up and let Mac softly suckle on her breasts while she eased him in, the water of the shower cascading down on their bodies. Sally slowly increased her pace, breathing faster and arching her back, her breasts flattening. Mac responded to her need, pulling her hips closer and pushing his thighs up so that her back rested against them. He moved his hips faster and in rhythm with her, causing her moans to become louder. He felt the wet ends of her hair brush against his legs as he brought her close to climax. And then, as she so often did when they made love, she brought her mouth back to his, breathing heavily and moaning lightly as she came, her body trembling, causing him to respond in kind, as he exhaled a breath into her mouth, his lips brushing against hers.
As the water continued to flow down, the two lay in a silent embrace, looking in each other’s eyes, quietly catching their breath. After a minute, Sally sat up, and he looked into her deep green eyes.
“I love you, you know that?” he murmured.
“Yeah, I do,” she replied softly, leaning back down, and gently kissing him on the lips. “The feeling is quite mutual.”
6
MONDAY, JULY 2ND
7:54 AM
Mac, Lich, Riley, and Rock were joined by a half dozen other detectives milling around in a conference room, mixing coffee, and talking the case. Burton and his crew, along with Duffy, joined them with a quick exchange of pleasantries and introductions.
The map of the area around the cafe was tacked to the left side of a bulletin board. Pictures of the scene and a sketch of the woman suspected of signaling the kidnappers were pinned up on the right. The St. Paul cops and FBI agents discussed the situation that was less than sixteen hours old. A couple of hours of sleep and contemplation provided no answers, only more questions.
Peters walked in and called everyone together.
“I’ve got two things,” he announced through a yawn. “First, this is a list compiled by Hisle of former clients that he thinks might have the ability to pull this off.”
“What’s the second think?” Rock asked.
Peters turned and into the room came men with boxes on dollies.
“We’ve got boxes and boxes of Hisle’s old criminal files coming, stuff from his firm and an off-site storage place. We need to start digging through it all.”
“What are we looking for?” someone asked.
“You’re the cops, you tell me,” Peters replied edgily. He was sleep deprived, all of them were. He stopped, took a deep breath, and said, “Sorry, it’s been a long night. What you’re looking for, it’s a little bit of you-know-it- when-you-see-it. These guys yesterday set up and executed a complicated plan. In looking through the client files, does anyone strike you as having the ability to develop and execute such a plan? It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a kidnapping. Lyman’s represented jewel thieves, break-in artists, confidence guys, and the leaders of some crews who specialized in high-end crimes. Not to mention all the white-collar criminals he’s represented. So, if you run across anyone who has pulled off or was accused of pulling off an elaborate, well-planned crime, let’s take a look at them.”
“It also could be someone who wasn’t a client,” someone else noted.
“That’s right,” Peters said. “This is just one avenue to pursue. We’re looking at other angles as well. We’re
