I waited, my heart bouncing back and forth off my ribs like a metronome set to high.
I didn’t see anyone anywhere. Once in a while, a rumble came from the expressway as a car went over us above.
My mouth had the feel of sandpaper. I wanted to say something to Patrick but I was petrified it would give us away. Every second felt like an eternity. Just my heart keeping time in my chest.
Three full minutes passed.
A ripple of fear snaked through me. Suddenly I wasn’t sure: Did I have the right street? He did say 153rd? I looked for the street sign, indecision worming its way into my brain.
That was when a car slowly pulled around the corner from a block north in the southbound lane, the lot we were in situated directly in the middle.
An SUV. A Cadillac Escalade. It turned under the overpass and pulled alongside us. The driver’s window directly across from me. The windows were tinted. I searched for Brandon through the darkened glass. I couldn’t see into it.
Which scared me.
Please, please let him be here, I tried to reassure myself. But what if he wasn’t? What if he was at some other location? What then?
My heart came to a stop as the driver’s window slowly went down. Suddenly I was staring at the same smirking face that had lunged at me with that boathook as I tried to get away at the boatyard.
A round jaw. Large nose. Short, light-colored hair. Narrow, haughty eyes. The sonovabitch was enjoying this.
“Hello, Jeanine.” He grinned. “Pleasure to see you again. Sorry about that window the last time we met. How about if we keep it on your insurance, if that’s okay? Oh, and by the way, Rollie said to say hi!”
“Where’s my son?” I said and glared at him.
“He’s here. Aren’t you, Brandon?” He glanced behind. “Quite a kid. Doesn’t say a whole lot, though. You notice that as well? I have to ask, you sure that school is really working for him …? The nanny doesn’t say a lot herself—at least not in anything resembling English. Can’t get ten words out between them. Just a bunch of gibberish. Of course, it’s not exactly their fault right now. Is it, guys?” He turned his head. “What with the tape over their mouths …”
“I want to see him,” I said.
“You want to see him? Sure, why not?”
He rolled down the rear driver’s-side window. I saw Brandon in the backseat on the far side. Mouth taped. He looked terrified. Terrified and confused. What had I gotten him into? I had to restrain myself from leaping out of the car and running over to him.
“Hold on, honey.” I smiled. My heart was breaking just watching him. “You’re gonna be back with Mommy very soon. I promise.”
His eyes seemed to brighten at my voice. I know he was trying to talk to me. My eyes flicked to Elena, who looked just as frightened and helpless. I winked a sign of support to hang in there. Then the window went up again.
“Aw, that’s a nice thought,” Charlie said. “You brought everything just like I said?”
“I have it.” I showed him the large garbage bag on the seat across from me.
“And the rest? You know what I’m talking about, I think.”
“It’s here.” I raised the clear plastic folder.
“Good. Rollie said you were a sight to look at. And he was right. About that part maybe. And hopefully you’re just as smart. So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna put those pages in the bag with the money, open your door, and hand it over to me.”
I shook my head. “Not until my son and Elena are in the car.”
“Sorry? Are we negotiating here, Jeanine? You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? So very clever. Do you want your son back in one piece or not? Your call … I can just drive off with my little packages in the backseat and we can call it a night.”
“No!” I reminded myself that he wanted what I had as much as I did what he had, and there was no way he would leave without them. “Take the money first. You let Brandon and Elena climb in the backseat here. Then you get the diary pages …”
He smiled. Not a smile of agreement. A smile that conveyed he was not being amused. “I must not have made a very strong impression on you, Jeanine. Guys”—he turned around—“I don’t think she really wants you back at all. Neither of you.” He turned back to me and his eyes glimmered. “What’s the matter, you don’t trust me, doll?”
“I’m not your doll.” I glared at him. His left arm rested on the open window; his right arm was hidden. “You’re making me nervous. I want to see your hands. Both of them.”
Sweat had soaked through my top. I sucked in a breath to steady myself. I told myself I was doing fine. Just to hold it together, like Patrick would say. If I really believed it.
“Take it out and bring it over to me,” he said, no longer with any mirth in his tone. “We’re wasting time.”
“I can’t.” All I could do was wait him out. “You can have the money. Here …” I moved it nearer to me. “I’ll give you the diary pages next. Once I have my son and Elena. Look, we better get on with this. If someone comes by …”
He looked at me. “All right. Take it around and put it in the back of my car. Then you can have the nanny.”
“I’m not getting out of this car.”
Somehow I didn’t feel so scared anymore. I knew that was probably a gun in his lap. He could pull it out and shoot me at any time. But I wasn’t afraid. I wanted to look around at Patrick. It took everything I had not to. I just prayed that he had everything covered.
“Okay”—he seemed to relent—“let’s get on with this. Hand it to me.”
I picked up the bag of money and cracked open my door, just enough to get it through, and moved it across the narrow space between us with two hands. I don’t know how I lifted it. It must have weighed thirty pounds. Charlie glanced around. Making sure no one had come on the scene. It was still just us. Then he opened his door and took the cinched bag with his left hand. He stuffed it inside his car and threw it on the seat across from him.
“One down. Señora, you want to go and visit with your matron over there …” He lowered the window and grinned to Elena in the back.
I heard the automatic locks release.
Elena wouldn’t come. She shook her head and then she looked at my son. I knew what she was saying. She wouldn’t leave Brandon. She wouldn’t go until he did. My heart went out to her.
“Brave little woman. So that takes care of one part of it.” He looked back at me and smiled. “What about the rest?”
“You mean the diary pages,” I said, and held them up. Maybe we would get out of here. Everyone. With our lives.
“No, not the diary …” Charlie shook his head, grinning. “I mean about the guy in the back there. You know, the one holding the gun on me.”