“Yeah, we did. Where’s the package?”
Carson pulled out his phone and dialed. “Yeah, it’s me. All good here.” He pushed the speaker button and held it out so the men could hear a badly-distorted, high-pitched voice crying and mumbling in distress.
Bagman scoffed. “Who the fuck is that? It could be anyone.”
Carson hesitated. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He held the phone a little closer to his mouth. “Hey, dummy, take her gag out, huh?” There was a pause, followed by a cough and a long gasp suggesting someone had just taken a deep breath.
“Fucker!” Katie’s snarl came through the speaker as if she was yelling at someone else before it sounded loud and clear. “Who is this? Help me, please! I don’t know what’s going on! Call the police –“ Her words were replaced by the muffled sound once more, and Carson killed the call.
“You can pick her up in the shed behind the old Smitty’s Garage at the end of Monroe Avenue. She’ll be there alone.”
Bagman’s jaw dropped. “Fuck that! You’re bringing her here! I ain’t goin’ to get her!”
“I see,” Carson responded evenly. “Well, I’ve got the cash, and I’ve got the only gun, so you can either haul your sorry asses out to the garage and get her or you can go back to your boss without the money or the girl. Your choice.”
Bagman’s brow furrowed, as if he knew that Carson was right but needed an alternative. Coming up with none, he shook his head in resignation. “You’re an asshole.”
“Well, of course I am,” Carson replied. “I’m the kidnapper. We aren’t exactly the nicest types. Now, on your way.” He waved the barrel of his Smith & Wesson at them like he was shooing away three particularly pesky flies. Glowering, Bagman and his two mute companions headed off the ferry the same way they boarded. Carson holstered his gun but stared after them, fairly confident they wouldn’t try anything, but not willing to take a chance. Even after they rounded the side of the maintenance shed, Carson kept watch in that area to make sure they didn’t double-back.
The sound of the ship’s marine diesel engines rumbling to life nearly startled him out of his shoes. He spun around rapidly, wondering if the engines were set on some sort of timer, only to see the short, squat silhouette of a man, the outline of a pistol clearly visible in his raised right arm.
“How the fuck are ya, Navy?” Chops Rizzo asked in a friendlier voice than Carson had ever heard him use.
Chapter 15
That Sinking Feeling
Katie tugged the wash rag from her mouth once again as soon as she heard Carson terminate the connection. It made her mouth dry enough to require a quick drink of water before using the same burner phone to call 911.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“Please,” she whispered frantically. “You have to help me. I’ve been kidnapped!”
“Did you say you’ve been kidnapped, Ma’am?”
“Yes! I have to stay quiet!”
“What’s your name?”
“Katie! Come help me, please!”
“Do you know where you are?”
“I don’t know! It looks like it’s some sort of an abandoned garage. It’s called Smitty’s. Hurry!”
“Smitty’s, right?”
“Yes, please hurry!”
“Police are on the way right now. Stay on the line with me, OK?”
“I’ll try, but I – oh, shit!” She ended the call abruptly. Following Carson’s instructions, she used the small pocket knife he’d given her to pry open the back of the phone and rip out the insides until the device was irrevocably destroyed.
What an acting job.
She did a final walk-through of the hotel room, looking for anything, no matter how minute, they might have left behind. At Carson’s insistence, she’d already wiped every smooth surface with a rag to ensure there were no fingerprints left anywhere. Katie had pointed out their fingerprints were already obscured by those from the past thousand guests and would be further disguised by those that came after them, but he’d been adamant.
After completing her final visual check, she left the key cards on the table and walked out, tossing their bags in the back seat of the Chevy. Leaving the hotel, she turned north on Route 1 once more, passing through the beach communities until she crossed the Indian River Inlet Bridge, just as she had much, much earlier this morning.
She looked west. There were emergency lights all over the place on Burton Island. Katie knew exactly why they were there. Brendan’s face, the one from earlier, happier times, appeared to her. He’d done terrible, reprehensible things, but now he would never have a chance to redeem himself, never have a chance to say he was sorry. She’d taken that from him, irrevocably and permanently, and the guilt was just now beginning to seep into her consciousness. What had he thought, she wondered, as his life drained into the sand of the insignificant island? Did he have regrets? Was he sorry for what he’d done? Did he die furious at her for taking his life?
Stop it!! She’d done what had to be done. If she hadn’t pulled the trigger, Carson would be dead and she’d back in Brendan’s custody. In any case, it was done, and she had more current issues to deal with.
She forced herself to concentrate on her driving. She passed through Dewey, Rehoboth Beach, and into Lewes, passing the entrance to the ferry. She looked at the terminal, as if she might be able to see him, and laughed at the foolish act. If she could see Carson from a car going 40 miles-per-hour, 300
