Hearing no answer, she proceeded to recite the First Amendment. She'd had it memorized since the fourth grade, and it never failed to lift her spirits. Much to Fr. O'Brien's dismay, Harper had never memorized her catechism, but for the First Amendment, the Declaration of Independence, she had total recall.
When she finished with the Declaration of Independence, one of her captors pounded on the door. "Shut up, or I gag you!"
She spat back, "Come on down and do it then!"
Raised voices argued back and forth. Harper could hear only a few words. "… can't kill her… we'll never find the loot…"
Harper laughed as her hands attempted to rub some heat into her cold, bare feet. "I know you're not going to kill me! Please come down here and talk to me or enjoy my recitation of the Industrial Workers Union Constitution's preamble. I think you'll enjoy it. My grandpa taught it to me when I was a kid. Of course, it doesn't apply these days, not since your scumbag bosses infiltrated the unions and fucked everything up for all the decent people in town."
She began but had barely recited the first sentence when the door at the top of the stairs flew open.
"I told you to shut up!"
The square-jawed man looked down at her, his fire-plug-shaped frame silhouetted by the dim lights behind him.
Harper replied, "You prefer show tunes? I know all of them. Well, I'm off-key on Into the Woods, but who among us can carry a Sondheim tune, am I right?"
The man descended the stairs slowly, carrying a roll of duct tape.
"Russo ain't payin' me enough for this job," the man growled, loudly loosening a length of tape from the roll, a sound that crawled up Harper's spine.
Russo. That was not a local crime family that she knew of. She swallowed. "Okay, listen. Do what you gotta do, but can you please tape up my ankle while you're down here? I think it's broken."
The man paused. "What?"
She took a stab at an answer that would convince him. Based solely on the snippets of conversation she'd overheard, she only knew she was needed alive and in one piece. "You need me to help you with something, correct? You're holding me for someone above your pay grade. Well, you don't want one of Girardi's men to show up and find me unable to walk, do you?"
The man paused at the bottom step, saying nothing at first. Harper listened to his breathing, an odd kind of rasp that pinged something in her brain. Where had she heard it before?
The realization hit her. He was the one who had called the newspaper office on Friday. He was the one who had threatened her life without knowing who he was talking to. Of course.
"I don't work for Girardi. But when I find that booty, that little bitch will be working for the Russos."
Harper swallowed and gathered her thoughts as the man called out over his shoulder. "Pearl! Opal! Lock the door behind you and get down here!"
He then turned to Harper. "They're gonna make sure you behave while I tape up your ankle. Don't even think about trying anything funny. Nobody's getting out that door. After I fix you up, we're going out another way."
A shiver ran down Harper's spine. "What way?"
"We're gonna go on a little treasure hunt. I am done waiting for my half-wit brother. You're going to find me that hidden mafia treasure, and I'm keeping it for myself."
"I don't know anything about any treasure," she said. "And what I have heard about it is all legends and myths."
The square-jawed man looked at her with the face of pure evil. "Don't lie to me, little girl. I know who you are, and I know that distillery is the key to finding what's mine."
Harper laughed in his face. "Hey, idiot. My moms moved up the date of their renovation project. The tunnel under the still is probably already bricked in."
The man's smile was maniacal. "Well, you see, there's not a single construction company in this town that doesn't ultimately owe favors to ol' Ralph. I'm sure they've already found a reason to delay the work. But fuck him, 'cause I'm finding it first. And once I do, he ain't gonna have any cash left for the lawyers, and he will rot in prison. Then, this town belongs to my gang. Once you help me find the stash? Then, by all means, your little construction project can carry on."
"You're despicable and stupid. There's no treasure, and meanwhile, you're going to have a furious pair of moms on your ass when they find out what's happening."
He shrugged. "I think they'll prove useful to us if you can't find what we're looking for."
The sound of securing locks echoed down the concrete steps, and then Opal and Pearl appeared, descending the steps with flashlights in their hands.
The man pointed a stubby finger in Harper's face. "Now. Be a good girl."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dash
Holden, Katie, and Mike arrived together to collect Dash from the downtown police precinct.
"What the fuck, dude? You grabbed the mayor?" Holden looked both awed and horrified.
Dash looked around as various desk officers glanced sideways at Mike, who stood in the lobby like a stone statue, surveying the room, an imposing figure even among a room full of burly, grizzled cops. Mike held a bulky plastic bag in his hands and had a strange, grim look on his face that Dash did not like.
Katie cleared her throat and placed a hand on Holden's arm. "Sweetie. No talking until he's out of custody."
Dash gestured with his chin in Mike's direction. "What's Mike carrying? Did he find out anything?"
Katie then turned to Dash. "I'm not sure. Say nothing to the police until my lawyer contacts you. Trevor will take care of everything."
All of that became moot as soon as an investigating
