Purgatory Ridge

“I know you don’t,” she said softly. She smoothed his hair. “But there’s no one else who can do it. And your daddy will be so proud of you when we tell him how brave you were and how you saved us all.”

“I don’t want to,” he said again.

“Maybe Scott,” Grace suggested.

LePere reached up and used the span of his hand to measure the distance between the bars. He used that same measure to assess the width of Scott’s head and chest. “I don’t think so.” He looked down at Stevie. “As it is, it will be tight for him.”

Jo hugged her son and spoke calmly but seriously. “The man who wants to hurt us all will be back soon, Stevie. Unless we get out, he will hurt us.”

“He’ll kill us,” Scott said.

Jo stared into Stevie’s dark, frightened eyes. “Yes. He will kill us. But you can help us. And you’re the only one who can. All you have to do is climb out that window. I know you’re afraid, sweetheart. We’re all afraid. If I could do this, I would. But no one can do it except you. Can you do this for me, little monkey? And for Daddy and Aunt Rose, who are waiting for us to come home?”

She hated herself for putting such pressure on her small son, hated the whole situation, but none of this was of her choosing, and there seemed no other way. She held Stevie close to her and she whispered, “Please.”

She said no more. Stevie was rigid in her arms. Finally he whispered back, “Okay.”

LePere raised the window glass. All that lay between them and freedom were the bars and the question of Stevie’s ability to slide through.

“I’ll lift you up to the window, son,” LePere told him. “All you have to do is squeeze through. Then I’ll tell you what to do from there.”

Jo kissed her son, then gave him over to LePere, who picked him up easily and lifted him to the window. Stevie took hold of the bars and pulled himself toward them. His head made it through. LePere supported him while he turned his body to align his shoulders and chest with the gap between the bars. He began to wriggle forward. He’d gone less than a foot when he stopped.

“What’s wrong?” LePere asked.

“I’m thtuck.”

“I’m going to give you a little push,” LePere told him.

“Owww!”

“Wait.” Jo grabbed LePere’s arm. “Stevie, we’re going to pull you back.” To LePere, she said, “Gently.”

“Owww!” Stevie cried as LePere drew him back. “I can’t get my head out.”

LePere supported Stevie with one hand and reached up with the other to assess the situation. “It’s his ears,” he reported to Jo. “They won’t come back through the bars. He’s stuck. Really stuck.”

“Hang on, Stevie. We’ll get you out.”

Jo tried to keep the panic out of her voice. Fighting against anger, frustration, fear. Fighting against time. She looked up into the dark gathered above her, descending, and she spoke in a bitter whisper as if someone there were listening.

“Why?”

42

THE CALL CAME AT NINE-TWENTY-SEVEN P.M., after dark had swept over most of the sky. There was still a narrow strip of washed-out blue along the western horizon, more like the memory of light, but it would soon be gone. Cork stood at the window looking across Grace Cove as Lindstrom reached for the phone.

“This is how it will be,” the voice-masked electronically, as it had been during each previous call-said over the speaker. “Take your cell phone and the money and get into your Explorer. No cops along for the ride, understand? Drive south. Keep your speed at forty. I’ll direct you as you go. Try anything-hide a cop somewhere, screw me over in any way-your family’s dead. And O’Connor’s. Dead, dead, dead. You have five minutes to be on the road.”

As soon as the caller hung up, Kay asked Arnie Gooden, “Did we get a trace?”

“1911 Cascade Trail, Yellow Lake, Minnesota. Phone’s in the name of Minda Liza and Robert Levine.”

“Yellow Lake. Ten miles south of Aurora,” Cork said. “Wally used to be the police chief there. You know these two?”

“Yeah. She’s Latvian. He’s gay. Odd couple, but nice folks. They spend a lot of time in Europe buying expensive art. Whoever this guy is, I’m guessing he broke in and used the phone.”

“He’ll be gone by the time we get there, but let’s send an evidence team down anyway,” Kay said to Schanno. “Mr. Lindstrom, it sounds as if all this is going to go down on the run. Don’t worry. We’ll be behind you, but far enough back not to be spotted. You have the cellular I’ve given you so we can be in communication the whole time. If anything happens, if we get out of touch, we’ll still be able to track you and the money via the transmitter. I want to reemphasize that you will not attempt anything on your own. Make the drop and go. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Everybody ready? Let’s go.”

“I’m going with Karl,” Cork said.

“You heard the guy, Cork,” Schanno said. “No cops.”

“I’m not a cop, Wally. Not anymore.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-” Kay began.

“Let him go,” Earl said.

Kay glanced at the BCA agent, then at Lindstrom. “Any objection?”