Purgatory Ridge

He hit the light switch and locked the door. The fish house was quiet and filled with a blue evanescence that crept in through the windows. Twilight, LePere knew. It was nearly time for the ransom to take place. He heard the engine of the van turn over. A moment later, the vehicle rattled away toward the highway.

“Ms. O’Connor, do you think you can move?” he asked.

“Some.”

“There’s a metal box on the wall next to the washbasin. Sometimes my father used the basin to clean himself and to shave after he was done with the day’s catch. He put his used razor blades in there so nobody would get cut with them. So far as I know, he never emptied it.”

The O’Connor woman worked herself into a standing position and hopped across the floor. She knelt, then lay down, and positioned herself near the wall. She lifted her legs, tried to reach the box, and had to readjust. It was an awkward position that, with her hands bound behind her, put a lot of strain on her shoulders, and LePere heard her grunt in pain as she raised her legs again toward the box.

“Just kick it?” she gasped.

“That,” LePere said, “and pray.”

40

THE DECISION HAD ALREADY BEEN MADE before Cork arrived, the decision that made everything go bad.

Two million dollars had been delivered to Lindstrom’s home on Grace Cove at seven-twenty P.M. It had come in bundles of hundred-dollar bills, packed in two large metal cases, and accompanied by Lucky Knudsen and three additional state troopers. George LeDuc had come along as well, bringing with him a simple, no-interest agreement for repayment that Karl Lindstrom signed. Afterward, the two men shook hands. Not a single attorney was present.

By the time Cork had hiked from LePere’s cabin to the big log home, the worst heat of the day had passed, and the media were again out in full force. Still, he entered the house without drawing much notice. Inside, he found Lindstrom, and the agents of the FBI and BCA, Lucky Knudsen, and Wally Schanno all gathered around the dining-room table. The metal cases that contained the ransom money were open. Also on the table were two empty black cases the same size as those that held the money. Kay glanced at her watch and said, sounding a little put out, “Mr. O’Connor. I’m glad you’re finally here.”

Cork let her peevishness slide. He walked to the table and looked at the cases full of hundred-dollar bills. Although he’d never seen so much in one place at one time, he didn’t think of it as a lot of money. To him, it was the possibility of Jo and Stevie in his arms again. Yet, no matter how many millions it might have been, he didn’t trust it. In the transaction ahead, in the commerce of human lives, there were no guarantees, no warranties, no legal recourse. If things went bad, there was just dead.

“What’s going on?” he asked, eyeing the empty black cases.

“I was in the process of explaining the plan,” Kay said.

“What plan?”

“We’ve been trying to reach you.”

“You’ve just reached me. What plan?”

Kay held up an electronic device about the size and shape of a deck of cards. “This is a Global Positioning System transmitter. It’s designed to be hidden in this case.” She reached into one of the empty cases and flipped open a small compartment that was hidden in the thick lining. She put the transmitter in place and closed the compartment door. “You see? It’s not obvious in any way. It may allow us to follow the money once it’s been picked up after the drop. We’re hoping it will lead us to where your wife and son and Mr. Lindstrom’s family are being held.”

“Can it be detected electronically?” Cork asked.

“Well, yes. But the kidnapper would need some pretty sophisticated equipment for that.”

“The kidnapper’s been prepared so far,” Cork pointed out.

“Do you have a better idea?” Kay’s eyes were a clear green and at that moment rather sharp in their regard of Cork. She hadn’t had a decent interval of sleep since she’d arrived, and it was beginning to show.

He glanced at the hollowed face of Karl Lindstrom. “You’ve agreed?”

Lindstrom nodded once. “Like she said, Cork, it’s a chance at least. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Wally?” Cork asked.

Schanno shrugged. “I’m out of my league here, Cork.”

Cork looked to Agent David Earl, who stood back a little from the others. “What about you?”

“I think unless you have a definite suspect in mind…” Earl paused, probably wondering if Cork had found anything substantial at LePere’s cabin. “I think,” he began again, “that if it were my family, I’d be willing at this point to try anything. And probably to put my trust in nothing. I wish there were more to offer you, O’Connor.”

Although it wasn’t dark yet, the curtains had been drawn across the windows. The dining room was lit by lamps and the light from the chandelier. By most standards, the dining room was large, but to Cork the walls seemed too close and the room airless.

“All right,” he finally said. “How’s it going to work?”