'Did you say one last good-bye?'
Something inside of Myron withered up and blew away. His knees buckled as the realization seeped into his chest. And the voice came on again:
'Did you say one last good-bye to the boy?'
Chapter 29
Myron snapped his head toward Greg. 'Where's Jeremy?' 'What?'
'Where is he?'
Greg saw whatever it was on Myron's face and dropped the basketball. 'He's with Emily, I guess. I don't get him until noon.'
'Got a cell phone?'
'Yes.'
'Call her.'
Greg was already heading toward his gym bag, the athlete with the wonderful reflexes. 'What's going on?'
'Probably nothing.'
Myron explained about the call. Greg did not slow down to listen. He dialed. Myron started running toward his car. Greg followed, the phone pressed against his ear.
'No answer,' Greg said. He left a message on the machine.
'Does she have a cell phone?'
'If she does, I don't have the number.'
Myron hit a stored number as they walked. Esperanza picked up.
'I need Emily's cell phone number.'
'Give me five,' Esperanza said.
Myron hit another stored number. Win answered and said, 'Articulate.'
'Possible trouble.'
'I'm here.'
They reached the car. Greg was calm. That surprised Myron. On the court, when the pressure mounted, Greg's modus operandi was to get freaky, start screaming, psych himself into a frenzy. But of course, this was not a game. As his father had recently told him, when real bombs drop, you never know how someone will react.
Myron's phone rang. Esperanza gave him Emily's cell phone number. Myron dialed it. After six rings, Emily's voice mail picked up. Damn. Myron left a message. He turned to Greg.
'Any clue where Jeremy might be?' Myron asked.
'No,' Greg said.
'How about a neighbor we can call? Or a friend?'
'When Emily and I were married, we lived in Ridgewood. I don't know the neighbors in Franklin Lakes.'
Myron gripped the steering wheel. He hit the accelerator. 'Jeremy's probably safe,' Myron said, trying to believe it. 'I don't even know how this guy would know his name. It's probably a bluff.'
Greg started shaking.
'He'll be all right.'
'Jesus, Myron, I read those articles. If that guy has my kid…'
'We should call the FBI,' Myron said. 'Just in case.'
'You think that's the way to go?' Greg asked.
Myron looked at him. 'Why? You don't?'
'I just want to pay the ransom and get my boy back. I don't want anybody screwing it up.'
'I think we should call,' Myron said. 'But it's your decision.'
'There's something else we have to consider,' Greg said.
'What?'
'There's a good chance this wacko is our donor, right?'
'Yes.'
'If the FBI kills him, it's over for Jeremy.'
'First things first,' Myron said. 'We have to find Jeremy. And we have to find this kidnapper.'
Greg kept shaking.
'What do you want to do, Greg?'
'You think we should call?'
'Yes.'
Greg nodded slowly. 'Call,' he said.
Myron dialed Kimberly Green's number. He felt waves pounding in his head, the blood flowing to his ears. He tried not to think about Jeremy's face, what his smile had looked like when he opened that door.
A voice said, 'Federal Bureau of Investigation.'
'Myron Bolitar calling Kimberly Green.'
'Special Agent Green is unavailable.'
'The Sow the Seeds kidnapper may have taken somebody else. Put her on.'
The hold was longer than Myron expected.
Kimberly Green started with a bark. 'What the hell are you ranting about?'
'He just called me.' Myron filled her in.
'We're on our way,' she said.
They hit a patch of traffic where Route 4 met Route 17, but Myron went up on the grass and knocked over several orange construction buckets. He broke off at Route 208 and exited near the synagogue. Two miles later, they made the final turn onto Emily's street. Myron could see two FBI cars making the turn at the same time.
Greg, who had gone into something of a trance, woke up and pointed. 'There she is.'
Emily was putting her key in the front door. Myron started honking madly. She looked back confused. He turned the car and skidded. The FBI car followed. Myron and Greg were both out the door almost before the car had stopped.
'Where's Jeremy?' they both said in unison.
Emily had her head tilted to the side. 'What?' she called back. 'What's going on here?'
Greg took it. 'Where is he, Emily?'
'He's with a friend—'
From inside the house, the phone started ringing. Everyone froze. Emily snapped out of it first. She ran inside and picked up the phone. She put the phone to her ear, cleared her throat, and said, 'Hello.'
Through the receiver, they could all hear Jeremy's scream.
Chapter 30
There were six federal agents in all. Kimberly Green was the task force leader. They set up with quiet efficiency. Myron sat on one couch, Greg the other. Emily paced between them. There was probably something symbolic in that, but Myron was not sure what. He tried to push himself past the numb so he could get to a place where he could do some good.
The phone call had been brief. After the scream, the whispery voice had said, 'We'll call back.' That was it. No warnings not to contact the authorities. No telling them to prepare funds. No setting up another time to call. Nothing.
They all sat there, the boy's scream still echoing, mauling, shredding, conjuring up images of what could have made a thirteen-year-old boy scream like that. Myron shut his eyes and pushed hard. That was what the bastard
