“It's possible,” Todd said. “Keep the doors locked and stay right here with the women. Louis Gismano is good, but he isn't bulletproof. If he gets in don't talk to him. Just shoot before he gets within ten feet. If he starts moving toward you, fire. I just need some makeup.”
“How well do you know Thumper?” Leslie asked Todd.
“He's worked for me on a few occasions, why? He seems very adept.”
“He's sort of creepy, and he was wearing a big survival knife a little while ago,” Leslie said.
“A survival knife?” Todd asked, frowning.
“Security guards don't need survival knives, do they?” Natasha asked.
Todd shook his head. “You're sure it wasn't a flashlight case or something?”
“It's a large knife,” Ward said. “I saw it, too.”
Todd slipped off his shirt, exposing a black T-shirt. He went to the fireplace and reached down and began to rub his hands on the fire-blackened stone. He began smearing the soot onto his arms, his face, the back and front of his neck. When he was done, he wiped his palms off on the front of his jeans.
“I'm going to go out and get a signal,” Todd said. “Two hard taps close together followed by a third after three beats is me. Anybody else, don't open the door.”
“Okay,” Ward said.
When Todd slipped outside, Ward locked the front door behind him. Through the window, Ward couldn't see anything, but he imagined Todd, gun at his side, walking up the driveway. He moved back into the den where the candle, set in the fireplace, illuminated the women's faces. Natasha had the prototype in her hands, rolling the tires absently.
“I bet you wish you hadn't come,” Natasha said to Leslie.
“Don't be silly,” Leslie replied. “We're safe with Todd here.”
SIXTY-SEVEN
Alice huddled at a public phone kiosk, hunched over the “M” section of a phone book, her finger finding the exact address she wanted. She used her GPS to find her way to his house. Her indignant anger grew as she drove slowly past the McCartys’ mailbox three times before she made up her mind to drive in. When the narrow driveway turned she stopped, her path blocked by a black pickup truck. She got out of her car and knocked on the empty truck's window. She couldn't see anybody around. What idiot would park that way so nobody could get in? Enclosed by the trees, the property beyond her headlights was dark and creepy It reminded her of one of the many horror films she'd seen over the years. She told herself movies were not real, but she was.
Thinking better of her late- night visit, Alice started to turn around. Backing between two trees, she was jolted when her rear tire fell into a hole. When she tried to pull forward, the car wouldn't move. She gave it more power and the wheel spun loudly, but it didn't budge. She slammed her palms against the steering wheel and cursed.
Turning off the lights, she threw open the car door and rooted in her black tote until she found her cell phone. She flipped it open and was greeted by her lighted screen and an absence of bars. “Fuck!” she yelled, stamping her feet on the floorboard.
Alice cut the motor, climbed out of the car, slammed the door, walked to the truck, and stood there in the darkness listening to the buzzing of the insects. An overcast blocked what moon there was, and she stood there afraid and confused.
In the darkness, she could barely make out the asphalt driveway that ran through the woods beyond the truck, and she cursed silently because she didn't have a flashlight in her car.
Taking the black tote bag from the passenger's seat in the Corolla, she went around the truck, moving away from the stuck automobile, opening her cell phone to give herself some illumination.
Walking cautiously, she rounded the next bend and was beginning to be able to see better as her eyes grew increasingly accustomed to the darkness.
She heard a noise off to her right-a slight rustling sound, like a wolf stalking her-and she held up her cell phone, straining to see what had made the noise. In the weak light Alice could just make out something reflecting the bluish glow in the leaves. She moved cautiously, inching toward the shape.
She heard a door closing and turned toward the sound. She didn't see any light from that direction, but to her left she could make out a shape over the rise-a roof? Hearing footsteps behind her, Alice started to scream, but a strong hand closed around her mouth as an arm cinched her waist, and she was lifted into the air, kicking off her sandals in the process. She kicked against her assailant, hitting his legs with her heels, but to no effect.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” the man whispered into her ear. “Cut the crap.”
Alice closed her eyes and the fast- moving man carried her like a doll toward the house.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Even with the gun in his hand, Ward had never felt so helpless. The weapon should have given him a sense of control, but it felt like a metal toy. He tried to imagine himself aiming the gun at Louis Gismano and pulling the trigger as Gismano ran at him, knife raised, but the image ended with Gismano dodging the bullets and killing Ward, then everybody else in the house. The idea of Gismano killing Ward didn't bother him one tenth as much as the image of him killing Natasha and Leslie.
Todd was their only hope. If Gismano wasn't stopped-if he escaped-how long would it be before he returned? They couldn't pay for protection forever, and if Todd's contacts couldn't find him, who could? He thought about a monster defiling Barney's room and his memory by stealing the bear and leaving a casket with an effigy of their dead child lying glued in the small black box. Ward breathed deeply, willing away his nausea.
Natasha sat on the couch, her arm resting lovingly on his back. Leslie sat in a leather chair, staring at the flickering candle in the fireplace. He heard Todd's musical rap on the door. Natasha jerked, straightening.
“That's Todd,” Ward said, standing.
He moved to the front door just as Todd knocked again, tapping out his signal authoritatively.
Ward opened the door to the sight of a girl suspended in the air, floating, but he realized that the blackened investigator Todd was supporting her weight, his blackened hand over her mouth. Seeing her was such a surprise, it took Ward a second to put the child into context.
“Alice?” he asked. At the sound of his voice, Alice opened her eyes and abject fear changed into pure relief. The hand left her mouth.
“Mr. McCarty, make him put me down!” she said. Todd pushed by and entered the house, carrying her past Ward, who, after locking the big door, followed them into the den.
“Who's this?” Natasha asked.
Todd released Alice, who stood barefoot, looking first at the women, and back at Ward.
“What are you doing here, Alice?” Ward asked her.
“Alice Palmer?” Natasha asked.
“There's a truck blocking your driveway and I got stuck trying to turn around, and I came up the driveway and this psycho kidnapped me.”
“Why are you here?” Todd asked her.
“Because he stiffed me.” She looked accusingly at Todd. “Did you think I wouldn't notice, ass bite?”
“Stiffed you?” Todd was genuinely perplexed.
“You gave me one thousand dollars, not two.”
Todd reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. Opening it, he shook his head and showed it to her. He laughed awkwardly. “I'm sorry. You're right. I gave you the wrong envelope. This one was supposed to be yours.”
“You ought to give me both of them then,” she said, holding out her hand. “Since you inconvenienced me and kidnapped me you should pay another thousand.”
