Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [105]
I wanted to kill her with my bare hands. She’d trusted my partner’s life to a kidnapper and a liar.
“Miss Delaney, will you bring the money or not?” The kidnapper was growing impatient.
“How do I know you have an antidote or that you’ll administer it?”
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
He was so damn smug I wanted to smack him. “Not true. I don’t have to take any risks. I’m taking my partner to the hospital.”
“Good luck with that, Ms. Delaney. And when Mrs. Richmond dies, you can spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. To be effective, the antidote must be administered within two hours. You have, what? An hour and twenty-five minutes? Good night, ladies. I’ll be sure and tell Monica you sent your good-byes.”
“Wait!” I couldn’t risk Tinkie’s life—and I couldn’t let him kill Monica. “If I take the money to the bridge, you’ll give me the antidote? Where will Monica be? I won’t leave the money unless she’s free and able to walk away.”
“She’ll be there, waiting. With the antidote in her possession. The exchange will be … civilized.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, knowing it was a mistake. This man had kidnapped Monica and likely killed Millicent. I had no reason to believe him. But I also had no choice. “Eleanor, you take my partner to the hospital.”
She backed slowly away. “I have to do what he says. Just take the money and get Monica and the antidote. It’s the safest thing for all of us. Maybe to be on the safe side we should call your sheriff friend in Sunflower County. Tell him what’s happening here. He needs to know you’re making a ransom drop.”
“No.” Coleman would be compelled to contact Gunny—I didn’t have time to convince him the local lawman might be dirty. I simply couldn’t risk it. There was no one to help Tinkie but me. If I didn’t cooperate, Tinkie might die or be permanently injured. I didn’t have a choice.
* * *
The clouds that had played a frisky game of tag with the moon had thickened to a roiling mass energized with thunder. The night was pitch black, except when lightning bloomed behind the clouds giving an eerie effect. I parked as close to the river’s edge as I could and got out. Hauling first one bag and then the other, I loaded them in a small aluminum boat conveniently beached under the bridge.
The shoreline was muddy. My feet caught in places, held in the viselike grip of thick goo. Above me, traffic echoed as it crossed the span.
The boat hadn’t been on the bank for long—otherwise kids or vagrants would have taken it. It was a nondescript, flat-bottomed fishing two-seater with one paddle.
Eleanor’s cell phone rang on cue. The kidnapper had the best surveillance around. He knew my every move.
“Paddle out to the third piling. There are two hooks above the waterline. Hang the bags on them. Then paddle back to shore.”
“Where is Monica?” I wasn’t about to leave the money without getting the sister and the antidote.
“When you reach the piling, look up. You’ll see her. She’ll be right there, ready for rescue. Row back to shore, and call 9-1-1. The fire department EMTs can get her. She has the antidote.”
The kidnapper was smart. This arrangement allowed him ample time to escape. Either I could do what he said or leave without the antidote or Monica—which meant I would do what he said.
As I clambered into the boat, I remembered how much I hated boats of all sizes. The river current was treacherous, and I was inexperienced to say the least. I was also nearly blind. The night was so dark the pilings that supported the bridge were barely visible. Upriver, where the casino boat was docked, there was light and laughter. Down here, nothing but fear and worry.
I pushed off from the shore, and the current caught me. I was swept thirty yards downriver with the boat spinning like a carnival ride. When I finally got it controlled, my phone rang.
“Quit wasting time.” The kidnapper was no longer amused. He was pissed.
“You should have asked for a boater to make the drop,” I said through gritted teeth.
I took care to lay the cell phone on the