A Father's Desperate Rescue (Man on a Mission 5)

“Modify how?”

Terrell pondered how to word his instructions without revealing too much over the phone. Yes, he’d purchased this cell phone with cash so it couldn’t be traced to him. And these were verbal conversations, not text messages that could be retrieved. Still...he had learned to be a cautious man. He settled for, “Presentment of the bill will need to be postponed,” hoping his agent would understand this meant the ransom demand would need to be delayed somehow.

“Understood. We will implement your suggestion. But storage could be a problem. The pilots refused delivery yesterday. Said they couldn’t be responsible until the flight.”

“Where are the packages now?” This was something Terrell hadn’t planned on—keeping Summers’s daughters in Hong Kong—and it suddenly occurred to him to ask.

“We found temporary storage, but safety is a concern.” Terrell knew the man wasn’t concerned with the safety of the little girls; he was concerned they might be discovered somehow, putting the kidnappers at risk. “We might have to shift locations.” The voice grew colder. “Or dump the packages.”

“That is not an option.” Terrell’s conscience was nudging him. Kidnapping Summers’s daughters, selling them on the baby black market in the United States—he could do that without a qualm. Killing them? He couldn’t quite bring himself to go that far. Even though Summers deserved the worst, Terrell wasn’t a monster. Besides, he rationalized, no way am I going to let the bodies of those little girls be found and give Summers closure.

“Understood. We will do our best.”

“See that you do.”

* * *

Dirk paced the suite’s expansive living room like a caged lion, while Mei-li sat on the sofa, shoes off, her feet curled up beneath her, watching him pace. Finally she said, “Pacing, like refusing to eat, accomplishes nothing.”

“They’re not your daughters,” he snapped at her, then had the grace to apologize. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

“Yes, but perfectly understandable.” She understood. How she understood. The desire to do something—especially for a man of action like him—had to be unbearable when there wasn’t much he could do. Not yet.

She pulled her notebook out of her purse, intending to go back through her notes, when she realized she’d never debriefed Dirk on his two phone conversations with the kidnapper who’d contacted him. She patted the sofa next to her and said, “Please tell me about the phone calls—the one yesterday and the one this morning. I should have asked you for every detail as soon as possible, but I didn’t. I heard everything you said this morning, of course, but...”

Dirk sat, but in the chair nearest the window, not on the sofa, and she wondered about that. Last night Dirk had seemed so open, so vulnerable. Now he’d closed himself off again, shutting her out.

Shutting you out? she asked herself, shocked at where her thoughts were leading. He’s a client. Don’t blur the lines.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Let’s start with yesterday. Tell me everything you remember, beginning with the kidnapper’s first sentence.”

He started slow, as if he wanted to relay everything exactly as it happened, but then the pace picked up. Mei-li had no trouble keeping up with him, however. Her own shorthand was a handy tool she’d developed over the years. Some private investigators used recording devices, but she didn’t—too often the people she interrogated were inhibited by the recorder. So she took detailed notes instead, but not verbatim. She’d found that her impressions of what was said were often more accurate in the long run than what was actually said.

She kept her eyes on her notepad for the most part, listening to Dirk’s deep, mellifluous voice recounting everything he could remember. But occasionally she raised her eyes to his face, especially when his voice changed...which it did every time he referred to his daughters.

“That’s it,” he told her, coming to an abrupt halt. “He said, ‘Terrell Blackwood sends his regards,’ and hung up.”

She quickly perused the notes she’d just taken. Sometimes if you picked at a thread, it became a string, but she didn’t see any threads to pick at. “So tell me about today’s phone call.”

“Not much different,” Dirk told her. “Except for the ransom demand. And the fact that this time he knew I hadn’t called the police.”