Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [95]
“That was a good one,” she said finally. “I want to watch it when I get home. I want to watch three stories in a row. And I want to come home soon. Please, Jeen, bring me home.”
His knuckles looked white against the gold metal of his cell. “I will, baby. I promise.”
“Before I see the sun set. Please. I’m cold. I’m scared. Get me home,” she said, and began to cry noisily.
“Secure the funds,” the kidnapper said, and hung up.
Solberg dropped to his knees. He was rocking back and forth, face crunched in agony. “What has he done? What has he done to her?”
“Not much,” I said, but my throat felt tight with terror and anger. “Not yet.”
“What are you talking about? She’s crying!” Solberg screamed the words at me, but his anguish did nothing but galvanize me.
“No she’s not,” I said.
“I heard her. She’s—”
“Faking it,” I said. “Now get up. We’re leaving.”
“She’s crying,” he whispered, ashen, but I was already hurrying into my bedroom. “She doesn’t make any noise when she cries, Solberg. Unless she’s acting,” I said, and stepped back into the living room carrying a wig, a baseball bat, and a robe.
He wobbled to his feet. “What are you doing?”
“I’m bringing her home,” I said. “You coming?”
He nodded jerkily and staggered to his feet.
“You’re going to need this,” I said, and handed him the bat.
He took it in two fingers.
“But you’re going to have to bring your own balls,” I added, and stared at him. “You got ’em?”
He swallowed and straightened his back.
“Good. You drive. We’ll take my car. It’ll cause less—” I began, but at that moment the doorbell rang. My heart stopped. I glanced at Solberg, but he was too stunned to react. My knees felt stiff as I made my way toward the door.
Aalia stood on the far side. Her gorgeous face was sober, her dark eyes wide and earnest. “I wished to thank you for your help,” she said, “before I must go.”
I realized finally that she was dressed in the same clothes I had first seen her in at the airport. Low-slung jeans and a long-sleeved jersey. Only the sideways cap was missing. A warning bell clanged in my head, but the din was already so loud I could barely distinguish the noise.
“Listen, Aalia, don’t do anything rash. I have to go now, but we’ll talk when I get back.”
She shook her head. “I cannot stay with my beloved sister and her husband. I have come all this long way to be free. To make my own decisions and my own friends but they …” She paused again. Her expressive eyes narrowed. “What happens here?”
I tightened my grip on the wig. “Nothing. I just have to go out for a while.”
“Something …” She paused. “It is wrong.”
“Please …” Panic was beginning to boil in my gut. “Just go home before—”
“Something has happened bad.”
“I don’t—”
“I will help,” she said, and pursed her lips.
“Listen—”
“Where you go, I go,” she said, and there was no time to argue.
In a matter of moments the three of us were striding toward the Saturn. A baseball cap was now on Aalia’s head. Solberg carried the keys. He popped the locks and got behind the wheel. I chose the backseat.
We pulled away from the curb at Mach speed as he glanced at me in the mirror. The sun was just setting.
“Where are we going, Chrissy?”
“To an apartment building on Thirty-seventh and Marigold.”
He nodded, pale but determined. “Which side is she on?”
“She can watch the sun set,” I said. Everything seemed sharply defined now, finely etched and crystal clear. “West side,” he said. “Third floor.”
“How … Three stories,” he breathed.
“Yeah.” I nodded grimly. “And Solberg …”
I could feel him watching me in the mirror.
“She’s naked.”
He blanched, but kept driving, narrow lips pursed tight. “How do you know?”
“She said she’s cold. She said people don’t change. She doesn’t believe that. Never has. But Jackson has traumatized women like this before.”
He nodded once and when he spoke, his tone was deadly even. “I’m not a violent man by nature.” He glanced toward me, eyes steady in the Saturn’s narrow mirror. “I want you to