Chapter 67

I JUMP UP FROM the chair. Run to the wall-mounted phone. Grab it off its cradle.

“Pronto,” I bark into the phone. In my head I’m aware of how the police will record the conversation since the phone has been tapped.

“I. See.” says the gruff, almost indiscernible voice into the phone. “I. See.”

“Who is this?” I ask. “Do you have Grace?”

“I. See.” repeats the voice.

“What do you want? Do you want money?”

“I. See.”

“Please. Tell me. Do you have Grace?”

“Yes. Grace. Yes.”

My legs, turning to rubber.

“Is she alive?”

“I. See,” says the voice of the overcoat man again.

And then he hangs up.