“Don’t underestimate Lewis,” he said. “When he’s under pressure, he’s a different man. After SWAT moved in, the intense pressure Lewis has been under for the last few hours was suddenly off, and what you just saw was as close as he gets to a hysterical reaction.” He turned to Pete. “A reaction no one need discuss outside this group. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Pete said.
“Shall I have a car take you home?” Bredloe asked me.
“I’ll take them,” Jack offered. “I’ve got a van here.”
At home, the dogs and Cody gave me an exuberant greeting that went a long way toward holding off my own hysterical reaction. I got Bea settled in and went into the kitchen. Hank Freeman’s equipment was still set up. I supposed he would be back soon. I wasn’t sure what all of the equipment did, but I could figure out which line led back to the recorder. I unplugged it, looked at the clock, and made the call anyway.
“Cassidy,” he answered.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes. Tape recorder on?”
“No, Hank’s not back yet. But I suppose they’ll know I called you?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t worry over it.”
I told him what had happened, only leaving out most of my conversation with Bredloe.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Hanging in there,” I said. “And you?”
“Tuckered out, I’ll admit,” he said. “But if you hadn’t called to let me know what had gone on, I’d be about as restless as a toad on a griddle. Maybe now I’ll sleep. Thanks for calling.”
I reconnected the recorder just as Hank Freeman came in the door. He sleepily checked over the equipment, then looked puzzled. He pressed a button on one device, which made a phone number appear on a display. He smiled.
“How is he?” he asked, obviously familiar with the number.
“Fine,” I said.
“I thought he’d be… let’s see… ‘nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs’?”
“No, I got the toad—”
“On a griddle,” he finished for me.
I smiled. “Couch okay for you tonight?”
He nodded, yawning. “Don’t bother folding it out. I’m so tired, I could sleep on the floor.”
He was asleep before I turned out all the lights.
Cody, who considered sleeping on the bed itself to be a cat privilege extended to certain humans as a courtesy, would usually not allow the dogs to come too near it. This night he magnanimously let them curl up on the rug within reach of my hand. He snuggled up to me, near my heart, and purred loudly.
I lay awake for a long time.
It was good to be home, just not quite good enough.
34
HE AWAKENED, first noting the darkness, the cotton gag over his mouth. He couldn’t move more than a few inches. Something was right above him — silky, padded. He was in a close-fitting, satin-lined box.
A coffin! They’ve put me in a goddamned coffin!
The last of his self-control shattered. He began screaming, beating his bound hands against the lid.
But almost instantly the lid was lifted, and he squinted in the sudden brightness. Bret’s pale face appeared above him. “I’m sorry!” Bret said anxiously. “I’m sorry! I thought you’d sleep longer!”
Frank was terrified, knew he looked it. Didn’t care. The gag was too much at this point. He tried to take in breaths of air as Bret continued to apologize, helped him to sit up. Dizzy again, he made a growling sound of frustration. Bret stepped away from him.
Gradually the room stopped spinning. He was in a trunk, he saw then, a magician’s trunk. Not airtight — breathing holes, in fact. Not a coffin.
It didn’t matter. He was shaking.
Bret still did not approach, and Frank realized that even bound and gagged he probably looked like he wanted to kill somebody.
Don’t frighten Bret, he told himself. You may need his help. Even if you don’t, the last thing you need to do is make him wary of you.
Still, it took a while to calm down.
He looked around. He wasn’t in the tent now. This was some kind of cellar. That thought nearly brought another round of panic, but he fought it off.
His hands were tethered together at the wrist, the IV catheter — tender after his attack on the lid of the trunk — still in. Now, he noticed, his ankles were manacled as well.
