His face registered disappointment “Not long enough,” he said to Cassidy.
“Tell them to stay on the line, we’re expecting another call,” Cassidy said. He turned to me. “Hank is in contact with the folks who are working with the phone company to trace the call. Notice anything different about this last call?”
“It wasn’t a tape recording this time,” I said. “The caller replied directly to what I said. I couldn’t hear any background noise this time, and the voice was much clearer.” My hands were shaking.
“What did they say?” Pete asked, frantic.
“Hang in there, Baird. I’ll go over it with you in just a sec. You all set up, Hank?” Cassidy asked.
Freeman nodded just as the phone rang again.
“Ms. Kelly? Sorry.” The same man’s voice. “This should work a little better. Cassidy will try to trace all of these calls, of course, so you and I will have very brief conversations.”
“You know my name, what’s yours?”
“We’ll get to introductions later. Now, listen carefully. I’ll be speaking rapidly, but you’ll undoubtedly have a tape to work from. First, you must learn how we met Detective Harriman. We met him where you met him. Drive out to your former employer’s offices there. Go to the library. Talk to Brandon North. He’s expecting you to arrive at one-thirty.”
“But it takes three hours—”
“Yes, and that’s if traffic isn’t bad. Mr. North isn’t usually there on Saturdays, so he might not wait around. You’d better get going. And don’t make Mr. North wait, because that forces us to wait. I’m sure you understand that Detective Harriman’s health depends upon your willingness to follow instructions in a timely manner.”
“Wait—”
“Oh, we can’t wait too long. But you want to talk to him, don’t you?”
“Yes—”
“We’ll call back.”
He hung up again.
“Hank?” Cassidy asked.
“No, sir.”
This time the silence began to stretch out longer.
“After we get this next call, I’ll let you listen to the tape, Pete,” Cassidy said. “Irene, did you—”
The phone rang again.
“Irene?”
“Frank! Oh, Jesus—”
“You sound scared. Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he said, his speech thick and slow. “God, I had the best dream about you.” He started laughing. “I’d better not tell.”
Laughing? “Frank?”
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
“God, no, Frank—”
“So where are you?”
The call was disconnected.
“No!” I cried out.
The phone rang again.
“He’s fine,” the young man’s voice came on again. I could hear Frank saying, “Hey, I wanna talk to her.”
“He doesn’t sound fine. His speech was slurred. What have you done to him?”
“Versed. Just a small dose, a little something to take the edge off. You give it to someone, and later they tend not to remember what happened to them while they were on it. Thought we’d use it this time instead of the morphine.”
“Instead of morphine? Why was—”
“He’ll be fast asleep in a few minutes. We’ll take care of him, Ms. Kelly. As long as you cooperate, of course.”
“What is it you want?”
“Let’s just take this one step at a time. Meanwhile, I assure you, we sincerely hope we won’t be required to cause Detective Harriman any further injury.”
“Not to worry. We’re taking good care of him. He’s our hero, after all.”
“Your hero?”
“Henry Freeman has probably made some progress by now, so we’ll say good-bye.”
