Purgatory Ridge

Agent Kay explained that as soon as she knew the drop site, she would have it surrounded by officers with night-vision equipment. When the kidnapper attempted to make the pickup, a decision would be made whether to apprehend at that point. If the determination were made not to detain the kidnapper, a car with tracking capability would be ready to follow. When movement ceased, the area would be quickly secured and, it was hoped, the hostages located and freed.

“We’re planning in the dark in a lot of ways,” she admitted. “And I won’t bullshit you. There’s a good deal of risk involved. Well?” She looked at Cork and Lindstrom for final approval.

Lindstrom spoke first. “It seems to me we go with the plan. It’s that or just give him the money and hope for the best. And, believe me, I’m not inclined in the least to trust this person. What about you, Cork?”

“Let’s go after him,” Cork replied grimly.

41

FIRST JO HAD EXHAUSTED HERSELF trying to kick loose from the wall of the fish house the metal repository full of old razor blades, then Grace Fitzgerald had done the same. The screws that anchored the metal box were sunk deep into hard wood, and in the end it was the strength of the two women that had finally yielded. The fish house, filled for a long while with the desperate thump of shoe soles against wood and metal-a sound that offered some hope-fell into silence. The light through the closed windows was fading. Eventually darkness would close in.

Darkness and silence, Jo thought. Like a grave.

Although she was tired and sore, she kicked herself mentally beyond the temptation for despair. For Stevie’s sake. “How long before this Bridger comes back?”

“If he sticks to his plan,” LePere replied, “the drop will be made at ten o’clock. He’ll do some maneuvering then to make sure he’s not followed. Give him an hour, hour and a half to get back here. So we have maybe two and a half hours, at best.”

“Two and a half hours,” Jo said. Not much time, but it was something. “All right.”

“Do you have an idea?” LePere asked.

She didn’t. Except not to remain on the floor like someone already dead. She scooted to the wall and pushed herself into a standing position. Grace followed her example, saying, “I’m with you, whatever.”

Jo looked the room over carefully. She wasn’t seeing anything she hadn’t seen before, but she was trying to see it in a different way. The nearly empty shelves, the long tables where for years fish had been gutted and cut, the windows. She paused, thinking for a moment it might be possible to break a window and to use a shard of glass to cut free. Unfortunately, the windows were all too high to reach-too high for someone like her, anyway, someone with her hands bound behind her. She eyed the washbasin, the slender wooden cabinet above it, the floor drain. She came back to the washbasin and the cabinet above it.

“Your father, when he shaved, what did he use for a mirror?”

LePere closed his eyes, remembering. “He had… something… inside the cabinet.”

“Glass?” she asked.

“I don’t remember.”

Jo hopped toward the cabinet. She put her belly against the washbasin and leaned toward the cabinet door. There was a wooden knob on the left-hand side that she intended to take between her teeth and use to pull the door open. As she leaned, she realized she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach. She resettled herself and leaned forward again. This time, she lifted her feet off the ground as she set her weight full on the edge of the washbasin, hoping the fixture would hold for a few seconds while she got her teeth around the knob on the cabinet door. Unfortunately, the basin shifted. Jo fell forward, hit her head on the wall, and tumbled to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Grace asked.

“Mommy?” Stevie called in a frightened voice.

“I’m fine, honey,” she said. “Mommy’s just fine.” In the growing dark, she turned her gaze toward Grace. “You’re taller than I am.”

As Jo worked herself up, Grace Fitzgerald hopped to the washbasin.

“Careful,” Jo cautioned her. “It’s not as solid as that damn razor blade box.”

Grace was able to keep her feet on the ground as she took the knob between her teeth and pulled the cabinet door open. The shelves were empty, but a glass mirror had been affixed to the inside of the door. Grace looked at it, then at Jo. “How do we break it?”

Jo surprised herself with a slight smile. “In a situation like this, it’s best to use one’s head. Can you open the door all the way?”

Putting her long nose to good use, Grace nudged the door so that it swung clear of the basin. Jo hopped into position with the back of her head against the glass.

“Oh, Jo, be careful,” Grace cried.

Jo closed her eyes and tapped her head against the glass. Nothing. Harder, she told herself. Again, nothing. Damn. She threw her head back and heard the glass shatter, and she tensed for the feel of it cutting her.

“Let me see,” Grace said.

Jo turned her head.

“There’s no blood.”