Blood Money

Sydney held her breath, willing herself into silence. No movement. No sound. Completely still. She knew she could do it. She’d controlled her fears enough to fool him once before.

It had been just their second night together. After a short flight to Palm Beach County, Merselus had taken her to a beach house in Manalapan that, he said, belonged to “a wealthy client” who was discreet enough never to tell the media where Sydney was hiding. It was paradise: her own room, a king-size bed, a view of the ocean, and a private bathroom that was bigger than the cell she’d lived in for the past three years. Merselus stocked the refrigerator with all her favorite food and whatever she wanted to drink. He was a perfect gentleman-until he woke her at three A.M. It was as if he’d written a script and somehow expected her to know it. He’d started with controlled aggression, but pure anger took over as she flubbed her next line, didn’t do what he’d scripted, didn’t go wild with excitement, didn’t play the part of the sex-starved jailbird who craved the way he ripped off her panties, grabbed her crotch, and rubbed her raw. The way he squeezed and pulled at the base of her breasts, as if he were trying to rip them from her body. The way he’d tried to force his whole hand deep inside her, as if she were yearning for more than any one woman could possibly handle. And when his other hand slipped up around her throat, she’d managed to strike back with what little nails she had, short prison nails, carving a deep red line across his face. It only made him crazier, angrier, more brutal. Suddenly, both of his hands were tight around her neck, there was no way to breathe, and Sydney was certain that she was going to die as the intense pounding inside her head and unbearable pressure behind her eyes gave way to blackness.

I hear it.

Footsteps on the abandoned sidewalks of Whispering Pines-they were getting louder. Someone was approaching.

Don’t move, don’t run.

It was the same strategy she’d employed in that bedroom in the beach house after she’d regained consciousness-lie there on the bed, completely still, pretending that she’d yet to recover from Merselus and his attack. And then when she was certain that he’d left the bedroom and gone to sleep. .

Run!

Sydney leaped from her hiding spot behind the bushes and started to sprint down the sidewalk. A scream cut through the darkness, and Sydney ran even faster. There were footsteps behind her, but they were fading, not following. She stopped and turned.

What the hell?

She narrowed her eyes, struggling to see in the moonlight. It was kids-some punks on summer vacation looking for a secluded place to share a bottle of vodka and have a party.

Sydney hunched over, hands on her knees. She was exhausted, tired of running, tired of living in fear of Merselus, tired of taking baths in a fucking green swimming pool.

She caught her breath, stood up, and headed back to the pool area to collect her dirty clothes.

Girl, you gotta find a pay phone.

Jack stared at the television screen, speechless. The Faith Corso Show had reached a new low, if that was possible. Still, Jack had to dig very deep inside himself even to begin to feel sorry for Ted Gaines.

“He deserves it,” said Andie.

They were watching together on the couch, Andie leaning against his shoulder. Abuela was in the kitchen cooking enough ropa vieja to last him six months.

“I need to call the Laramores,” said Jack. “They need to know the adoption is public.”

“Try to make Mrs. Laramore see it as a positive,” said Andie. “I know this is something they didn’t want blasted all over the television. But it needed to come out, after the accusations Ted Gaines made against her.”

“That’s the way to spin it, I guess.”

“Don’t think of it as spin. You’re just doing the best you can.”

“Thanks.”

Jack reached for the phone, then paused. Andie herself had been adopted, and even though they’d talked about it before, Jack had been reluctant to mix the Laramore situation with hers. But any insights into shortcuts on finding a birth mother would be useful at this point.

“I have this long-shot theory about Celeste,” he started to say, but it was interrupted again by what was becoming a familiar string of profanities with rhythm-Theo’s ringtone. Jack still had his phone. He picked it up and checked the number.

UNKNOWN, the screen said, which gave Jack even more reason to answer.

“This is Jack.”

“It’s me,” she said, and he knew immediately it was Sydney.

“Are you on a cell?” he asked.

“No. Pay phone.” Jack could hear the traffic noise in the background.

“Do you have a cell?” he asked.

“Yeah. Merselus gave me an iPhone when he met me at the airport, but I’m sure that’s just so he could listen to every call I make.”

“That’s perfect.”

“No, it’s not perfect,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t even turn the damn thing on because I know he can track me with GPS.”

“Listen to me, Sydney. I’m going to put Andie on in a minute. She can tell you how to disarm the GPS tracking. And then you’re going to turn that phone on.”

“What? No! He is going to find me, and he is going to kill me!”

“Merselus is not going to find you. We are going to find him.”

“How?”

“You need to do exactly what I tell you to do,” said Jack.

Chapter Forty-Nine

At eleven P.M. Jack was pacing across the rug in his family room, ready to leave the house, waiting for the cell phone to ring.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Andie.

If it were about Sydney, Jack would have agreed with her. But it was about putting a stop to the guy who had left Celeste in a coma, strangled Rene, and threatened his grandmother. The plan wasn’t to get Sydney her life back. It was to catch a killer.

“Yeah, I do,” said Jack.

Sydney’s iPhone from Merselus was the key. All of her calls to Jack over the next ninety minutes would be from that phone to Theo’s cell. Using Jack’s cell wasn’t an option, as suddenly having a conversation with Sydney on a line that Jack had essentially abandoned after Rene’s murder would have surely raised suspicions in Merselus’ mind. It was enough that Sydney’s iPhone was infected with spyware, and the FBI had the technology in place to confirm that someone was actively monitoring the call in real time. And then they would know that Merselus was taking the bait.

At five minutes past the hour, Theo’s cell rang. The intent was for the ensuing conversation to be for effect only, tied loosely to the script that Jack and Andie had worked out in advance. The less Sydney said the better, and Jack crossed his fingers in hopes that she didn’t screw it up. He put the phone on speaker so that Andie could hear.

“Did you make a decision?” said Jack.

“Yes.”

“When can we meet?”

“Slow down,” said Sydney. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not saying for sure that I’ll testify in court. I’m not promising I’ll even go to court.”

Jack stopped pacing and bit back his anger. Just ten seconds into the implementation of the plan and Sydney was already ad-libbing. She really does think she’s a freakin’ movie star.