TPG (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

He rolled his neck
and tried to clear his groggy head, having just woken from the
chloroform-soaked rag used to smother his nose after being slammed to the
ground. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but given the state he was in,
as well as how much he’d been sleeping lately
without
being drugged, he assumed it had been for quite a while.

He was seated in a
chair, his hands tied behind his back. The room he was in had a Star Wars
pinball machine against the wall to his right, a very large flat screen on the
far wall and four extremely comfortable looking theater chairs in the middle.
In front of the theater chairs were a few video game consoles sitting atop a
glass coffee table. The lack of windows and natural light told him he was in a basement,
but given the smallish size of the room it was either the basement to a small
home or maybe a townhouse.

His bound limbs
prevented any severe trembling and shaking, but they still felt weak, and his
mind was still a haze. But not much worse than it had been earlier.

The sound of a
door opening above drew his attention. He heard footsteps coming down what he
thought was an enclosed stairway to his right. The door opened and he saw a man
enter. He didn’t know the man, but the man knew him.

“So, Mr. Hillier,”
the man said, walking to the center of the room. “I guess it doesn’t work on
me.”

It was the first
thing Hillier realized as well when the man drew within reach. There was no
connection. He wasn’t a match.

But Hillier said
nothing.

“Guess you’re not
the chatty type,” the man shrugged. “That’s fine. I brought this along just in
case I’m wrong.” He held up his right hand. A gun was nestled inside. “I figure
I’ll be able to put a bullet through your head before you’ll be able to make
mine explode.”

“Why am I here?”
Hillier asked.

“I’m pretty sure
you know the answer to that question,” the man said.

“I don’t.
Enlighten me.”

The man walked
over to a closet and pulled out a folding chair. “How about you start answering
some of
my
questions, first,” the man
said as he unfolded the chair and took a seat. “Like telling me what the hell
you do?”

“I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? You
have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“No idea.”

“So you were just
out for a stroll last night, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“And what about
the fact that you weren’t even able to walk a straight line as you wobbled down
the sidewalk, looking like a drunk who could’ve been knocked over by a stiff
wind? What about that?” The man picked up a remote and turned on the TV. “Let’s
take a look at this,” he said as he rewound a saved program from his DVR. It
was the perfect game. The speedy images stopped at an interview Hillier had
given beforehand. Hillier heard the strength in his voice, saw the sharp focus
in his eyes and watched as he calmly sat there without any fidgeting at all.
His present condition didn’t even come close to resembling the man on TV. “This
wasn’t even weeks ago,” the man said, “and now look at you.”

Hillier remained
quiet.

“So you’re willing
to just stay here and wait while whatever the hell’s happening to you gets
worse?” The man paused, waiting for an answer. But Hillier didn’t utter a
sound. “Fine by me,” the man said, leaning back. “But I figure the reason you
went out early, rather than wait for the next start, is because things are
getting pretty bad. Much worse than they were. But maybe I’m wrong about that,”
the man said, walking over to the stairs. “I guess anything’s possible.”

Hillier stared at
the man, seeing his eyes comfortably settle in.

He was right, but
who was he and what did he want?

And how on Earth
did he know what Hillier could do?

CHAPTER FORTY

A myriad of options raced through
Kyle’s mind, which he tried as best he could to keep focused to avoid the
emotional landmines littering his thoughts.

Bree and Adrea
were missing. They never returned after going to get manicures earlier in the
morning and weren’t answering their phones. Sheila said they’d been missing for
a little over three hours. Adrea’s family had already called the police,
suspecting that they were abducted, maybe even being held for ransom given the
family’s wealth.

Sheila didn’t know
what to think. But Kyle knew. He knew
exactly
what was happening.

He just didn’t
know what the hell to do about it as he stood outside the mediator’s office
hailing a taxi. Who could help? Who could he trust? Slattery? Someone else on
the force? Eddie? He didn’t even know where he was going as his phone rang just
as a taxi pulled over to the curb. He looked at the display.

Bree.

At first a quick
sigh of relief engulfed him, but then he realized which phone number it was.

It was her old
iPhone, the one stolen at camp. The one they never found. The one Kyle made
sure wasn’t disconnected.

“Where is she?”
Kyle yelled as he stepped into the taxi.

“We warned you,
didn’t we? Were we not clear enough?”

“I didn’t say
anything to anyone,” Kyle shouted. “I swear to God I didn’t say a damn word
about this to anyone.”

“You didn’t stop.”

Kyle shook his
head. “You’re wrong. You’re a hundred percent wrong. I haven’t done anything.
Not since we spoke. I swear.”

“Then where is
he?”

“Where’s
who
?”

“Don’t play games
with me, Mr. Vine,” the man’s anger shot through the phone. “I can very easily
make what you saw last time real. She and her friend are in the other room.
Don’t make me kill the other one first just to get you to quit playing games.
Now what did you do to him? Where is he?”

Kyle felt as if
his head was about to burst as he ignored the taxi driver asking where he
wanted to go and struggled with how to answer, images of the bloodied girl in
the woods flooding his thoughts.

“The man I’ve been
looking for?” Kyle asked, trying to cooperate, trying to give the man an answer
that wouldn’t appear defiant. “That’s who you want to know about, right? He’s
missing? Is it Evan Hillier? Is
he
missing?”

“I said no more
fucking games!” the man yelled.

“I’m not playing
games. I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about. I swear to God. You
have
to believe me.”

There was silence
on the other end, then the phone went dead.

Kyle frantically
tried to call back, but it just kept going to voicemail.

The driver yelled
at him again, wanting to know where he was headed.

“Just drive
south,” Kyle said in a panic, still paralyzed by disbelief and indecision. As
the taxi pulled away from the curb he dialed Slattery. Even though he’d been
directed not to call the police, he needed someone’s help. Besides, Adrea’s
parents had already gotten the police involved. But Slattery didn’t answer. His
voicemail picked up instead. Kyle hung up and dialed Sheila’s number, but was
interrupted by the sound of a text coming through. The blood drained from his
face as he clicked on the message, then the video attached to it. He saw a
young girl with long, pin-straight blond locks falling over her face sitting in
a chair, not moving. Her white tank was stained with blood. A hand from behind
lifted her slumped head and the camera zoomed in on her neck
 …
and the huge slit from
side to side.

Adrea.

“A half hour, Mr.
Vine,” the voice on the video said. “I will call back in a half hour and you
will tell me where he is or it will be your daughter next.”

“Jesus Christ,”
Kyle said, his eyes locked on Adrea’s lifeless body.

And then the video
froze, right on the bloody gash.

He had a half hour
to make sure Bree wouldn’t be next.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Kyle knew who he had to locate.

Liam.

Although he didn’t
have Liam’s home address, he had the one for the comic book shop on Rivington
Street, the heart of the Lower East Side. Kyle told the driver to rush there
while dialing Liam’s number.

Liam had to have
been the one who kidnapped Hillier. There was no one else. And the fact that he
didn’t answer his phone only convinced Kyle of that fact even more. Liam
always
answered his phone. Especially
when Kyle called.

It simply
had
to be him.

The midday traffic
wasn’t horrendous, but it wasn’t smooth sailing either. There were a ton of
lights to deal with, and even with the driver weaving in and out of lanes and
darting up and down side streets, the anxiety-ridden, nail-biting minutes
seemed like an eternity. Kyle tried Liam a few more times, but his cell phone
just kept going to voicemail. He also tried Eddie and Slattery again, but those
calls also went straight to voicemail. He thought about calling Adrea’s family
to get the names of the detectives they were dealing with, or calling 911, but
he knew there’d be nothing they could do in the limited time. It would take him
hours just to get them to understand his story, let alone believe it.

When the taxi
finally pulled onto Rivington Street, Kyle was so anxious to get out that he
simply tossed the driver thirty dollars and leapt out before the car even
stopped, stumbling like a drunk as inertia fought against momentum. When he
regained his balance, he ran into the store, knowing he had less than seven
minutes until the deadline. The place had a few stragglers sifting through
comics. He didn’t see Liam anywhere, so he ran up to the counter and approached
the tall, rail thin man ringing up a customer’s purchase.

“Where’s Liam?”

The man didn’t
look up and kept keying in prices. “He’s not here right now,” the man said in a
low, nasal voice.

“Where is he?”
Kyle sharply repeated.

The thin man
looked up, his greasy face riddled with piercings over his left eye, right
nostril, and lower lip. His eyes traced Kyle’s panicked face, then looked down
at his neatly pressed polo and slacks. “Is there something
I
can help you with?”

Kyle grabbed the
edge of the counter and leaned over, his eyes fraught with urgency, his
knuckles white from the tight grip. “You can tell me where he is and when he’ll
be back.”

The man slid the
comics into a brown bag and said, “I’m not sure exactly when he’ll be back. You
wanna leave a message?”

Kyle spied the
clock on the wall. He had about five minutes. “Just tell me where he is,” he
said, raising his voice. “I need to know.”

“Went out for a
bike ride,” the man said. “About a half hour ago. He didn’t say when he’d be
back.”

“How long do his
rides usually last?”

“There is no usual
amount of time,” the man shrugged. “He just bought the thing. He said a friend
of his recently got him into it.”

“Where does he
live?”

“Here,” the man
said, nudging his head over to the backdoor. “He’s got a room in the back of
the shop.”

Kyle stormed over
to the back of the store, ignoring the skinny man’s protests and swinging open
the unlocked door. The sight surprised him.

There was an
unmade bed against the wall, a kitchenette consisting of a cube-sized fridge, a
microwave and toaster oven. A large new flat screen stood out against the dingy
surroundings of the room. There was a small table with two chairs and an open
MacBook sitting on it. Kyle went over to the laptop and saw a myriad of Batman
insignias as the screen’s wallpaper. He looked at his watch. He only had a few
minutes left.

“What’s going on?”

Kyle turned around
and saw a very sweaty Liam in the doorway, his portly body stuffed into yellow
spandex bicycle gear, his stomach pushing the material to its limits.

Kyle jumped up
from the table. “Where is he, Liam?”

Liam looked confused.
“Where’s who? What are you talking about?”

“Jesus, I don’t
have time for this bullshit. They’re going to kill her. Where the hell is he?”

“Kill who?”

“Bree, goddammit.”

“Your daughter?”

Kyle pursed his
lips in frustration. “What did you do with Evan?” he begged. “Where is he?”

“Evan? Evan
Hillier?”

“Yes. He’s missing
and they won’t let Bree go until they get him back.”

Kyle’s frantic
eyes shot down to look at his watch. He didn’t have time to explain everything.
And Liam’s expression couldn’t have screamed confusion any louder. He didn’t
have Hillier, and that meant Kyle didn’t have the answers they were looking
for.

His phone rang on
cue.

Kyle drew a deep
breath and answered, knowing what he’d have to do as he listened to the terse
question meeting him as he held the phone to his ear.

“Where is he?”

“No,” Kyle said.
“It doesn’t work like that. I tell you where he is, what security do I have
that you won’t kill Bree?”

“The same security
you have now if you don’t tell us. None.”

Kyle looked at a
completely perplexed Liam. “I do nothing unless I see Bree.”

“Give us his
location, and we’ll let you know where you can find your daughter. But if he’s
not there, don’t expect to find her alive.”

“No. I want to see
her first.”

“Not going to
happen.”

Kyle tried to
remain calm, tried to keep his focus. “Then I’ll need more time. I can’t give
you his location right now.”

“Why not?”

“He’s being
transported,” Kyle lied.

“To where?”

“I’m not sure
yet.”

“Then you have one
hour to find out.”

“I’ll need more
time than that.”

But there was no
response. The man had already hung up.

“What’s going on?”
Liam asked, his narrow eyes wide and fixed on a frantic Kyle.

Kyle looked up
from the phone and turned to him.

“They’re going to
kill my daughter.”