CHAPTER 45

CAL’S PHONE RANG. It was Kelly.

“Hey, Cal. Are you here yet?” she asked.

“No. Something’s come up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s not over yet. I got a tip that Hernandez is possibly holding another player’s child ransom.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out right now.”

“Are you going alone?”

“I have to. There’s no way the FBI could get there in time.”

“Are you sure? Have you called them?”

“I’m about to, but there’s only 12 minutes left in the game.”

Kelly said something but Cal couldn’t make it out over the roar of the crowd.

“What did you say?”

Kelly shouted. “Touchdown, Seahawks! It’s 21-20. We can win this thing!”

“I’m about to go make sure it can actually happen.”

“Call the FBI to back you up. And be careful, Cal.”

“I will.”

Cal hung up the phone and headed out the door.

* * *

THE WALK FROM THE Four Seasons to the Hilton was two blocks southeast on Dallas Street. Cal’s pace quickened the farther he walked. He wanted to run but didn’t want any unnecessary attention, even though the streets remained empty. Though it wasn’t two marquee names from the NFL, the Super Bowl had turned out to be a good game and everybody kept watching. They would all be watching a sham if Cal didn’t intervene.

Cal called one of his contacts at the FBI and gave them the address and what he suspected was happening. They said they would assemble a swat team but they wouldn’t be there for another thirty minutes. Cal agreed not to go in until they arrived. He lied and said he wouldn’t. Then he used the rest of the walk to formulate a plan.

* * *

HERNANDEZ WAS LOSING HIS MIND. Ten minutes left in the game and the Dolphins were clinging to a one-point lead. All this work would be for nothing if the Seahawks won. He’d even lost some men over this job. How many? He couldn’t be sure. But he lost some good ones, even some he had to kill himself.

He grabbed his phone and scrambled across the room to take a picture of the boy. Hernandez jammed the barrel of his pistol into the boy’s head. The boy closed his eyes and winced. He screamed as he braced for the gun to fire. It didn’t. The only click he heard was that of Hernandez’s camera phone, snapping a photo. The boy gasped a sigh of relief.

Hernandez fired off a text message with the photo attached to the boy’s mother. He wanted to make sure the family understood he wasn’t kidding about killing their son.

If someone inflicted pain upon him, Hernandez would return the favor.

Guaranteed.