Twisted Twenty-Six (Stephanie Plum 26)

“I don’t suppose you have a nail file.”

“No. I don’t have a stick of dynamite, either.”

“How did he get you to go with him?”

“He had a kitten. He said he wanted to take it to the shelter, and he asked me if I could hold it for him. And then when I got in the car with the little cutie, he zapped me. How about you? Did you fall for the kitten thing?”

“Yep.”

“It was a really cute kitten,” Grandma said. “I keep wondering what happened to it.”

“It never occurred to me that it might be Bernie,” I said. “I thought it was Barbara.”

I looked around. Sacks of sand were stacked against one wall. A jumble of equipment was against another wall. A band saw. A leaf blower. Coils of hoses. Machinery parts that were alien to me. A long folding table and a single folding chair. A shop vac.

“Where are we?” I asked Grandma.

“I don’t know for sure. He had a sack over my head, and my hands were handcuffed when he brought me here. You can’t hear any sounds from outside. From the way he would come in and out I thought this must be part of the Concrete Plant. Like he would work some and then come check on me, even though it was a Saturday. This room looks industrial.”

I agreed with Grandma. The room looked industrial. It seemed to be some sort of storeroom.

“Are you scared?” I asked Grandma.

“Sure, I’m scared. Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes, and I’d be even more scared if I wasn’t so tired.”

“I don’t like being scared,” Grandma said. “It makes my stomach feel squishy. I always thought your job sounded so great. Putting your life on the line for justice. And going into all kinds of dangerous situations. But now that I’m in a dangerous situation I’m thinking it isn’t anything I want to do again. I can see why you don’t always like your job.”

It isn’t the danger that I hate, I thought. It’s the ick.

It was late, and the cot was big enough for only one person. I persuaded Grandma to lie down on the cot, and I stretched out on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but I was exhausted, and for the next several hours I slipped in and out of sleep.

Bernie showed up again at eight o’clock. He had a couple bags of breakfast sandwiches and two containers of coffee. He slid the sandwiches over to us and placed the coffee within reach, making sure he didn’t get too close to me.

“We’re making the swap this morning,” he said. “It’s going to take place here.”

“Where is here?” I asked him.

“We’re at the plant. This is a storage facility that’s never used. It’s behind the truck garages. Sometimes I come here when I want to get away from everyone and take a nap or watch a ball game. I get good reception on my iPad in here. I’m the only one with a key, and no one would come here anyway.”

I ate half a sandwich and sipped my coffee.

“The police will track you down, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail,” I said to Bernie.

“They’ll never find me. The instant I get my money I’m gone.”

A half hour later, Charlie Shine and Lou Salgusta arrived. They were each carrying two suitcases.

“This is stupid,” Shine said to Bernie. “Nobody demands cash in a suitcase anymore. We wire money now. Do you know how hard it was to get this much cash? We had guys working all night.”

“Leave the suitcases by the door,” Bernie said. “I’ll take them from here.”

Shine looked down the room at Grandma and me. “What’s with this? We were supposed to get Jimmy’s old lady. I’m not paying for a second hostage.”

“She’s a freebie,” Bernie said. “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her with me and get rid of her.”

“I like it,” Salgusta said. “Two is always better. We’ll keep her.”