Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [94]
“It matters if he hurts Laney.”
Every molecule of color drained from his face. His arm went limp in my hand. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know, I—” A thought flashed through my mind, so quick I could hardly catch it. “Texas Rangers!” I hissed the words.
He stared at me, almost hopeful, waiting.
“I told her Jackson looked like Jimmy Trivette, from Walker, Texas Ranger.”
“Who’s Jackson?” he asked, but I was already dialing the phone.
Micky Goldenstone answered on the second ring. My voice sounded odd, cranked tight.
“Where’s Jackson.”
There was a pause. “Who is this?”
“Christina McMullen. Micky, is Jackson still in the hospital?”
“No.”
“Is he in custody?”
“His handgun was registered. He had no priors. They released him until the trial. Why?”
I felt my stomach twist. “Is he with Lavonn?”
“I don’t—”
“I need you to find out.”
“Are—”
“Do you think he’s capable of kidnapping? Do you know—”
“What the fuck’s going on?” His voice was a snarl.
“I think he’s producing a drug called Intensity. I think Lavonn hid it in my jacket. Laney was wearing it today and she’s been kidnapped.”
There was a second’s pause. “I’m on my way to Glendale.” I heard a door slam.
“Micky …”
“Yeah?” His tone was terse, taut as a stretched wire. “His old girlfriend, the one he made serve him …”
“Becca.”
“Yeah.” Laney had mentioned sphinx cats and the only reason I could think of was because they were a virtually naked breed. “If Becca didn’t do what he wanted, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and let silence fill the miles between us like a swirling tornado. “I can’t find her.”
It took Micky forty-two minutes to reach Jackson’s home in Glendale, but he wasn’t there.
It took Solberg an hour to realize it could take days to secure twenty-one million dollars.
Long before then he found a live online image of Thirty-seventh and Marigold. I had no idea how he’d tapped into it or if it was legal. Nor did I care. From the picture on the screen we could see that most of the buildings were boarded up. Anemic-looking weeds were scattered about dusty yards and stray furniture adorned broken sidewalks.
Solberg’s phone rang as we were gazing at the screen. We turned toward each other, breathless, terrified. He answered, knobby hand visibly shaking.
“I need more time to get your money.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr. Solberg.”
“I want to talk to Laney.”
“She’s indisposed just now.”
“If you hurt her, I swear to you …” He ran out of words, out of hope.
“What do you swear, Mr. Solberg?”
“Give me one minute with her and I’ll give you ten thousand dollars in cash.”
“But cash is so trackable. You’re not trying to trick me, are you, Mr. Solberg?”
“I don’t care what happens to you.” His expression was grim, his tone the same. “I just want Laney back.”
“Very romantic. I’m touched. And I had almost given up on the power of love. Tell you what, give me an even twenty-five million and I’ll let you talk to her.”
His hand tightened on the phone. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I don’t know if I can get that much.”
“That’s interesting, because I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to talk again if you don’t cooperate. In fact, maybe the whole arrangement is off if you can’t find it in your heart—”
“I’ll get it!” Solberg said.
“Ahhh, love will find a way. You are single-handedly restoring my faith in mankind, Mr. Solberg. And for that, you’ll get a few more seconds to talk with your beloved. But I think I’ll put you on speakerphone this time. I’m wondering if your amoretto isn’t a bit brighter than her gorgeous body suggests.”
She was on the phone in a minute.
“Jeen?”
“I want to hear.” I only mouthed the words, but he understood. His hands shook as he bumped the button for speakerphone.
“Angel.” He sounded faint with relief.
“Is Muffy okay?”
“She’s fine,” I said. “I brought her to my house. She’s watching TV in the other room. Starsky and Hutch.”
There was almost a sigh in her voice. “I used to love that show.”
“It’s the one where Hutch pretended to be Emma.”
She paused for a moment. I held my breath, praying she was coherent