part0037

Jake hung up the phone. “Anna’s okay. Thora’s en route to the hospital. She’s in tough shape but they say she’ll make it.”

“Take me to my daughter,” Paige McCauley demanded.

“Take it easy,” Jake said. “They’re bringing her to you as we speak.”

Drew moved toward his wife. “It’s going to be okay,” he said.

Paige shoved him hard. “Don’t touch me.”

Drew backed away, a wounded man.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a twin?”

“I thought he was dead. Until today.”

Paige came full-force at her husband. “Was that before or after he…?”

Jake stepped between them. “Mrs. McCauley, please–”

She threw up her arms in mock surrender. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She walked away then turned back to her husband and said, “No, I’m not okay. I just had the best sex I’ve had in months with a man I thought I was in love with,” she said. “Turns out it’s his twin brother who apparently is a convicted felon and the kidnapper of my son.” She added, “Now he can add rapist to his illustrious résumé. Is it going to be okay? No. Am I okay? No, I am definitely not okay.”

“Paige, don’t do this,” Drew said. “I can’t get through this alone.”

“It’s always about you, isn’t it? What’s best for you. Always has been. You should have thought about that when you and your buddy Jake were keeping your dirty little secrets.” Then: “Just one more question.”

Drew shot Jake a look of desperation.

“If he’s your twin, why is he calling you his baby brother?”

“He was born three minutes before me. He always said that made him the big brother and that he got to make all the rules.”

Paige moved as if to attack, then retreated. “It looks like he was right.” She pivoted on one heel and was gone.

“You okay?” Jake asked.

“I can’t put her through any more of this,” Drew said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Oh no, Jake? Did you know that in my original draft I cut off the kid’s whole hand? Thankfully, Thora talked me out of it.”

“You had no way of knowing what you wrote in a book would someday be used against you. This guy is sick. He’s not like you and me. He’s–”

“–my brother,” Drew said. “My own flesh and blood. His blood runs through my body. Maybe that makes me just like him.”

“You’re nothing like him.”

“How well do you really know me, Jake? You’ve read my books. Some pretty sick things happen in them. Things that come from this sick mind.” He slapped himself on the side of the head. “Martin acts out what I only have the guts to write about. So I’m just like him, only a more pathetic version of him.”

“He’s the pathetic one, Drew. Using a helpless kid to exact his revenge on you. And what he did to Paige…”

Drew squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t, Jake.”

“I’m sorry. But you can’t just throw in the towel now. That’s what he wants.”

Alan Weeks stormed into the room. “Jake!”

“What is it, Alan?”

“He’s back on the phone. Said he wants to talk to you. Only you.”

Jake followed Alan’s mile-long stride and snatched up the receiver. “I’m here, Martin.”

“Nice talking to you again, Jake.”

“Let’s skip the foreplay and get it on.”

Laughter. “Always the romantic, Jake. Okay, listen up. I’m going to give you one more shot at this. Blow it and the kid is dead.”

“How do I know he’s not dead already?”

“You’ll just have to trust me on that.”

Silence. Then: “What did you say?”

“You heard me. I want to talk to the boy or the deal is off.” Weeks sprung a few leaks. Drew moved toward him. Jake put out a firm hand.

“Hawksworth, you’re bluffing.”

“Try me.” Weeks was ready to pounce. Wait’ll Geoffreys heard about this. “Put the kid on or I hang up.”

It wasn’t Weeks who lunged. It was Drew. “Jake, you son-of-a-bi…” He ripped the phone away from Jake. “Ben? It’s Dad. Are you okay?”

Quiet sobs brought the room to a standstill. “They hurt me, Dad.” The sobs grew.

“I know, Champ. You’ll be home with us before you know it. Mom and Anna and I love you.” He cradled the phone as though it were his only son.

An angry voice told Ben to say goodbye. “Hey, Dad?”

“When I get home, can we take a family vacation?”

“You got it, Champ. Anywhere you want.”

“How ‘bout camping again, like two summers ago?”

Drew looked dumbly at Jake and shrugged. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you want. Ben?”

“Put my pal Jake on, Baby Brother. Now.”

Drew handed the phone over to Jake, his breakdown now a done deal.

“Jake, you there?”

“I’m here.” And you’re lucky I’m not there.

“Good. You’re going shopping. Southside Mall, like last time. Only this time you’ll be alone. None of your guys dressed up in a Santa suit or pushing a baby stroller. If I see anyone who even looks remotely suspicious, game’s over.”

Jake kept his temper in check. “When and where?”

Martin paused, then said, “Because I like you—take the holiday off. Enjoy a good old-fashioned Thanksgiving with what’s left of your family. We’ll go shopping Friday. Biggest shopping day of the year, you know.”

“Why wait? Let’s get it on right now.”

“I said Friday.” A hint of anger rose in Martin’s voice. “One more thing.”

“I’m listening,” Jake said, defeated.

“Don’t be stupid or you’ll get more than a toe next time.” The line went dead. The click echoed in Jake’s ear.

All eyes were on Jake. He turned to Alan Weeks. “Alan, I’m going this one alone.”

“Like hell you are. Geoffreys said–”

“I don’t give a damn what Geoffreys has to say. You heard what he said. He wants me. Only me. I don’t think he’s bluffing.”

Weeks moved toward him. “This is not your case, Jake.” His face was a rich shade of crimson. Jake was sure his flattop bristled. “I’m in charge here and what I say goes!” Weeks stormed from the room.

Jake saw the look on Drew’s face and prepared for round two. “Okay, Drew, lay it on me. What’s on your mind?”

Drew’s jaw turned to stone. “What’s on my mind?” he asked in disbelief. “What’s on your mind, Jake? Where do you get off putting my son in danger?”

“I needed to know Ben was okay.”

“And so you threaten to hang up? What if he did?”

“And if he had?”

“I knew he wouldn’t.” He wants to make you suffer for a while longer before he kills your kid. “It was a hunch. You got to talk to your son, didn’t you?”

Drew sighed and his body folded into itself. He lowered himself into an overstuffed leather chair. “I suppose I should thank you for that.”

Jake shook his head. “No thank yous are in order. By the way, what was that thing with the family vacation?”

Drew looked at him with the same blank expression he had when Ben had mentioned the vacation. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed puzzled when Ben mentioned going camping again. Why?”

Drew’s eyes flickered. “Oh, that. A camping trip. Over at Tomahawk in Clearview. Ever been?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, “but that was probably before you were even in diapers. Did something unusual happen there?”

Drew’s weary head shook like a Bobblehead staring through the back window of an old Buick. “No, nothing bad or anything. I just found it odd that he would want a repeat of that trip. It rained almost the entire week. You ever try camping in a tent during a torrential downpour, Jake?”

Jake laughed. “I’m more the cheap-motel-room-with-a-six-pack-and-cable-TV type of camper. Of course, Sheila was more the five-star-hotel-with-champagne-and-a-dinner-show type, so there you have it.”

The tension rolled off Drew’s shoulders, if only for the moment. They reminisced for a while about how each had met his wife, about the births of their children, about life in general. Then Drew said, “Drill Sergeant Weeks is ready to have you court-martialed. So what are you going to do now?”

Jake rapped on the door. No answer. Again. Nothing. “Mrs. McCauley, may I please speak with you.” The door stared silently at Jake. “Mrs. McCauley, I know how upset you are. But right now we have to focus on getting Ben back.” Nothing. He turned and walked down the hallway.

The lock disengaged. Jake turned. Paige McCauley looked like the victim that she was. The beautiful woman Jake had only just met was gone. In her place stood a hollowed out shell. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

Jake knew she was standing here for one reason only. Her love for her son. “Talk to your husband,” Jake said. “He wants to tell you about his brother and why he kept things hidden all these years. You may never forgive him for what he’s done, but at least let him explain why he did it. Please, I’m asking you as his friend. And yours.”

Paige buried her face in her hands. She stood motionless, a portrait of grief, then turned away. The door closed slowly. Before it clicked shut, a trembling whisper escaped into the hallway. “Tell him I’ll be right down.”