“I don’t get why we can’t call the police.”
“And tell them what? We don’t have any proof her family is even in any danger. We’re doing this based on your word only. And no offense, but as far as I’m concerned, your word is worthless. Hell, you could be part of the group that abducted Holly for all we know. Playing us for fools.”
Erik said nothing, too shocked to say anything at all.
Nova shifted in his seat to give Erik his full attention. His hands didn’t move—they stayed where they were on the chair’s armrests—but Erik was all too conscious of the fact the man still had the FNX-45 on him.
“Tell me the truth, Erik. You playing us for fools?”
Erik didn’t bother shaking his head. He kept his gaze steady with Nova’s as he answered.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Nova nodded slowly, and glanced back out his window.
“I certainly hope that’s the case. I hope we don’t get to D.C. and find out we’re wasting our time.”
“What happens if and when we find the people watching Holly’s family?”
Nova kept staring out his window.
“Nothing.”
This wasn’t at all what Erik had expected to hear.
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“I mean it exactly as I said it.”
“But that’s insane. If we find the men, why don’t we just—”
Erik cut himself off, suddenly seeing it.
Nova glanced at him again, and nodded.
“That’s right. The moment we take them out, Holly’s life is over. Right now the people who took her want something from her, and they’re using her family as leverage.”
“Say we do find these people. Say we manage to get one of them alone and force him to tell us where to find her.”
“Say we do. An operation like this is a house of cards. Take one card away, the whole thing comes down. That’s why we first need to confirm the surveillance is real, and then we wait.”
Erik shook his head, feeling more frustrated now than he’d felt all day.
“But what are we waiting for?”
“For Holly to do what she does best.”
“And what’s that?”
His head still tilted back, Nova shifted again in his seat to get comfortable and closed his eyes.
“Survive.”
Twenty-Nine
The alarm on the nightstand goes off at seven o’clock on the dot, and a second later the door opens and Louis stands there, dressed in a fresh shirt and slacks, the Glock still holstered to his hip.
“You want a shower?”
It’s an odd question—like, of course I want a shower—but I don’t answer him, just keep lying in bed with my head tilted up to look at him.
His expression doesn’t change.
“You want a fucking shower or not?”
I nod, rising a bit on my elbows.
He tosses something at me. It’s small and plops down near the end of the bed. It’s a key, which will unlock the clasp on the collar.
Louis says, “Need to recharge the collar anyway. You’ve got five minutes.”
I stand as I grab the key and start fiddling with the clasp and only pause when Louis speaks again.
“Oh, and Holly?”
He reaches toward something in the hallway with his left hand as he unsnaps his gun from the holster and draws it, both hands seeming to work in concert, and then Jose fills the doorway with him, the boy still not looking at me, keeping his gaze tilted down at the floor, and Louis presses the barrel of his gun against Jose’s temple just hard enough for the boy to flinch.
“Any funny business and the boy gets one in the head.”
Louis, like his boss Hayward, finds power in making these kinds of threats, and I decide not to acknowledge it, moving straight for the bathroom and reaching into the small shower and turning on the water.
I started the countdown as soon as Louis said five minutes, and four minutes and forty-six seconds later I shut off the water and grab the towel and start drying off. When I step back out of the bathroom, wrapped in the towel, a fresh pile of clothes has been set on the bed, and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and toast sits on the nightstand.
Louis doesn’t appear to have moved, and neither does Jose.
I say to Louis, “I was out in less than five minutes.”
His expression still doesn’t change.
“Yes.”
I gesture at Jose.
“Well, let him go.”
Louis doesn’t move at first—just stands there with his gun pressed against the boy’s head—but then finally he relaxes his grip on Jose.
“Put the collar on.”
I’m confused at first—does he mean the collar I left in the bathroom?—but then I spot a new collar on the bed next to the pile of clothes. This collar looks to be just like the other one—it snaps together, though it can’t be unsnapped without a key—and it fits snuggly around my throat.
Louis says, “Where’s the key?”
I tilt my chin at the bathroom.
He doesn’t like this response, and presses the Glock’s barrel against Jose’s head again.
I quickly retrieve the key and the other collar from the bathroom and slowly approach Louis. I hold out both items—the collar in one hand, the key in the other—and still without looking at me Jose reaches out and takes the items.
Louis says, “Take four steps back.”
I take four steps back, my calves brushing up against the bed behind me.
Louis waits a beat and then moves the Glock away from Jose’s head.
Holstering the gun, Louis pushes Jose down the hallway, and I can hear the boy’s soft footsteps rapidly retreat.
I decide when I kill Louis, he, like his boss, will suffer greatly.
Louis doesn’t move from the doorway.
I say, “This isn’t a striptease. Mind giving me some privacy?”
Louis points up at the camera in the corner. Of course. In Neverland, privacy doesn’t exist.
I ask, “So what’s on the docket for today?”
Louis keeps watching me with his blank expression.
“Ten minutes to get dressed and to eat. Don’t be a second late.
