Boone’s laugh was pure, cold evil. “I’ll give you one guess. You’ve got something I want. I’ve got something you want. We get together, we make a trade. Your son for my woman. Everybody wins.”
Shock and denial struck John like a blast. This had to be some kind of hideous joke, he tried to tell himself. Any minute now, Boone would laugh, admit that it was all a prank, and end the call, just like he might have done in the old days.
But the situation was all too real. Boone had his son, and his only hope of saving the boy was to accept it and act calmly and deliberately.
“How do I know you’ve got David?” he demanded. “How do I know he’s alive?”
“He’s alive, all right. And it’s up to you to keep him that way. Here, take a listen, brother.” There was the sound of fumbling and a noise like ripping tape, a pause, and a voice.
“Let me go, you filthy piece of—”
The rest of the words were cut off by what sounded like a blow. But the voice was unmistakably David’s. Hearing it was like a knot of barbed wire twisting tight around John’s heart. He pictured his son bound and taped, maybe in pain, surely scared, but still defiant. In spite of everything he felt proud of the boy.
Boone laughed again. “Satisfied?”
“Where are you?”
“Remember the fun we used to have with those old paintball games? Wait about fifteen minutes. Then come alone, just you and the woman, and we’ll make the trade. No weapon. If the cops show up, I’ll kill the boy. You know I can do it. I’ve already killed once. I don’t have a damned thing to lose.”
“So why did you kill Bethany Ann?” Keep him talking. Stall any way you can while you look for his vehicle. He has to be somewhere close in order to know you’re out here with Emma. He might even be watching you.
John pulled the Jeep away from the curb, turned around, and drove slowly back toward the docks, looking up and down the streets. He was aware of Emma, leaning close to hear the conversation. She was shaking.
“I got tired of the bitch,” Boone said. “Always whining and wanting to go home. She couldn’t cook worth a damn, and she was like cold mashed potatoes in bed. I couldn’t let her leave. She’d seen too much of my business, and I’d pretty much spent her money, so there wasn’t much use keeping her around.”
“How did you do it?”
“Waited till her back was turned and whacked her in the head with a log splitter’s maul. The bitch went down like she didn’t feel a thing. Pretty smart the way I buried her with that deer, don’t you think?”
The man was insane. And John could see no vehicle that might be his. If he could get a description, he could call the troopers and have them stop it on the highway. But Boone was probably aware of that, and he was too wily to let it happen. He knew every back road and shortcut in the county. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wouldn’t be.
“You’re not that smart. You didn’t fool the dog,” John said.
“Well, I won’t make that mistake again. I’ve said enough. You know the plan. Don’t make me kill this boy.” Boone ended the call.
* * *
Emma had heard the conversation, and she knew what John was facing. Still, she wasn’t prepared when he pulled up in front of the hotel and stopped. “Get out and go inside, Emma,” he said.
“No.” Her answer came without hesitation.
“Go on. I’ll find a way to rescue David. I’ll do anything I have to, even if it means killing the bastard. But I can’t ask you to go back to him.”
“I’m the one Boone wants,” she argued. “If I’m there, it will give us the best chance of getting David back. At least we’ll have more options.”
John didn’t answer. She gazed at his grim profile in the darkness and understood the agonizing choice he faced. She couldn’t allow him to make it. She would have to make it for him.
Maybe tha
t’s what love was.
“You have to take me with you,” she said, knowing what that could mean for her. “We’ve got to do this together.”
Without a word, John pulled the Jeep away from the curb and headed up the highway toward Ward Cove. Emma knew the place where Boone had said he’d be waiting with David. It was the old pulp mill site, closed down more than twenty years ago. John had mentioned breaking in there with a gang of teenagers to play paintball.
She tried to picture the place in her mind, the way John had pointed it out to her. She closed her eyes, struggling to bring back every detail. The largest warehouse was in use, but there were other buildings farther down the long, flat stretch of the dock, which extended past the water’s edge.
She should have noticed more—doors, windows, fences, empty spaces, but at the time she’d seen the place, she’d barely given it a look. This was the best she could do.