The Guardian (26 page)

Ross started letting himself down. He was tempted to try to make it out onto one of the landings. The cable was slack, but not enough to let him swing over to the landing itself. He kept going down, the cable smooth in places and biting sharp with broken strands in others. He couldn’t trust the strength of the electrical cables, so he just steeled himself against the pain and kept going. The blood on his hands made them slippery, and his breath was ragged from the exertion.

He was past the ground-floor landing and was on his way to the basement when he heard them up above again. The gunman was barely visible from so far up now. Something big blocked him from view, presumably the mattress.

Ross started sliding down the cable, ignoring the pain. He figured the gunman intended to throw it down to sweep the shaft clean.

Then the sharp smell of acetone filled the air.

Ross slid down the last few feet onto the roof of the stalled elevator, fighting panic.

Ross stumbled over the big pulley on top of the elevator trying to make it to the wall. He got up and lunged against the brick wall, reaching up in the dark for a handhold, looking for something to start his climb up to the ground-floor landing.

Up above, the mattress burst into orange flame.

Ross’s fingers closed around a bit of tubing. A wire encased in corrugated metal. He reached as far as he could for a handhold and began pulling himself up, hand over hand. He talked to himself under his breath, talked to the gunman up above who was apparently waiting for the fire to catch completely. “Hold it there. Do it right, man.”

He was almost up to the landing when the wire broke.

He scrambled against the wall, and for an instant, it seemed as if by sheer willpower alone he could inch upward the final two feet.

But he couldn’t. He slid down the smooth face, just as the man above let out a rebel yell.

The mattress was fully engulfed now. Ross landed on the elevator roof and looked up to see the mattress hit the cable and tumble once, then twice, alongside the wall. Ross stepped back, mesmerized. He could see the bluish tinge near the mattress itself, and then bright yellow and orange of the fanning flames. Still the thing came closer, and he knew that even if it didn’t hit and cover him, it would turn his little box into a private burning hell.

How long will I be conscious?
he thought.

And suddenly Ross went from standing to lying flat on his back.

The breath was knocked out of him and he was in an even deeper darkness. Still he could see the mattress falling, but it was as if he was seeing it through a screen, and then he realized that’s exactly what it was, it was the heavy mesh screen of the freight elevator roof.

He’d fallen through the open trapdoor.

And then the mattress hit, rocking his metal cage. Burning acetone dripped and flared onto his shirt, and he rolled to smother the flames, and then rolled again … and found that the basement elevator door was open, like those above him.

 
* * *

By the time he made it past the wall of junk that had been stacked on the basement stairway, Janine, the woman, and the gunman were gone.

When the police and fire engine arrived, Ross was on the sidewalk, sick with smoke inhalation and with the thought that was almost too painful to bear: Ross’s own trouble with Teague had been a factor—maybe even the reason that Janine had been abducted in the first place.

Ross could take comfort with only one thing. He knew the man’s name. The man had used his own last name and Natalie had said the first. “Lee Jeffers,” Ross said, as the first cop approached him. “Lee Jeffers.”

Chapter 45

There was a minor celebration among the two agents at the house when word came back that Ross had gained the kidnapper’ s name. Beth had been dismayed that neither of them seemed overly concerned that Janine was still in the kidnapper’s hands. It was as if their command over the bureaucracy took precedence over anything as prosaic as returning a little girl to her mother.

The agents made and received a series of phone calls, to their own offices, the U.S. Marines, and finally an important call from a New York City detective. Beth had cornered one of the agents immediately after he got off the phone. He was a young man in his late twenties with a crew cut and a self-important manner that irritated her.

“Yeah, OK,” he said, handing Beth a fax off the portable machine. It was a picture of Jeffers, a brutal-looking man with a harsh, planed face. “Ex-marine,” the agent said. “Last known job as a welder. He’s been arrested a number of times for assault, armed robbery, and murder. Only two convictions, though. Once on an assault charge. Sent to prison for four years. More recently, he served a six-month sentence for abusing their daughter.”

“A daughter?” Beth had asked. “How old?”

“She turned nine last month. Somewhere in her new home.”

“Where was the mother when he was abusing her? This Natalie?”

The agent looked uncomfortable. “You never know.”

“What did the detective say?”

“He doesn’t know either.”

“What did he
say?”

The agent paused, then said, “His understanding is she didn’t do a damn thing to stop Jeffers.”

He’s aged,
Beth thought, when they brought Ross into the room that night.

It had only been a day since she’d last seen him. But his already thin face was more gaunt, with dark hollows at the eyes.

“Sit.” She drew out the kitchen chair. Turner, Byrne, and Allie followed him in. They had spent much of the day at the factory going over what remained of the scene. Beth had seen a tape of the burning building on television. The police had kept Ross’s name out of the report, but a news crew that had arrived just after the fire truck had turned the camera onto him momentarily.

Beth took Ross’s hands. “Tell me about her.”

He had already told her over the phone that Janine was alive, that he had actually touched her. But the idea that maybe they were lying to spare her had whispered into Beth’s ear that afternoon. Maybe they’d all lied to keep her from being hysterical. Maybe they figured Ross had to tell her face-to-face, and that was what he was here to do now.

Ross looked at his watch. “Six hours ago, she was all right. Upset, but she looked healthy.”

Beth felt the breath shudder out of her. She hadn’t realized until then she had been holding it. She took the sandwich that she’d made earlier from the refrigerator and got him a beer. Really, it was just that she needed to move. She thought how screwed up it was—a man tells you your daughter is alive, and you give him a sandwich. A steak for bringing her home?

She broke away from that, thinking as she rejoined them at the table that hysteria was nipping at her mind like a dog.

“Tell me what happened.”

He drank the beer but didn’t touch the food. And he told her most of what he’d been doing since first hearing about Janine’s abduction, about T.S., Datano, Teague, and what had happened at the factory.

“Shit, we should’ve had T.S. staked out the whole time,” Turner said. “Now he’s cleared out with all those weapons.”

“You can’t find out where he’s gone?” Beth looked from Byrne to Turner, then back to Ross. “How about that man you first found him through: Datano?”

Ross shook his head. “That’s where we just came from. I went into the restaurant, and he told me he couldn’t help me. Very polite, but absolutely no help.”

“We think T.S. must’ve gotten to him,” Byrne said.

“Your whole stakeout was a fiasco!” Turner snapped.

“I took it as far as I could. Olsen refused me the men I requested, and he wouldn’t go to bat with the Cambridge Police for staking out T.S. He said the whole thing was too much of a long shot.”

“Well, he got his for being such an idiot.”

“As if
you’ve
got enough men signed onto this—”

“Shut up,” Beth said. Her eyes had filled with tears. Angry, bitter tears. “For God’s sake, shut up!” She turned to Ross. “You’re telling me this man, Teague, knew you in prison? That this is some sort of vendetta?”

“It’s not that simple.” Ross’s voice was quiet. “Believe me, I’ve been beating myself up thinking just that. But I’ve also been thinking about something Jeffers said.… He was complaining … something to the effect of why should he be the one to lose out on the deal. Like someone else was managing to come out ahead.”

“So?” Turner said. “Typical of a guy like that. Teague is laying there with his head blown off, and Jeffers thinks
he’s
the one getting the short end of the stick.”

“What?” Allie said, confused. “When did he say this?”

“I think it was more than just the two of them,” Ross said. “My impression is that they may not have even been working together, exactly.”

“My impression is that you’re trying to convince yourself and us you didn’t drag your family into the shit,” Turner said. “If there’s any conspiracy going on here, which I don’t believe for a second, maybe it’s Datano. You dragged that crook into this. Or maybe it was your pal Crockett. He was a thief. He definitely knew Teague—maybe he knew Jeffers.”

Beth saw Ross’s face flush. “That’s bullshit about Crockett and you know it.”

“I know no such thing.”

On one level, Beth could sympathize with Ross.

On another, she hated him.

“All of this started with you,” she said softly. “They followed you to us.”

“It’s not that simple,” Ross said.

“Mrs. Stearns, Ross got us awfully damn close,” Byrne said. “We know a lot more than we did before. We’ve got Jeffers’s name.”

“And he’s got my daughter!” Beth hated herself as she said it, hated the way her words made Ross’s face close down. But her husband was dead. Her little girl was still held by that monster.

There was no containing the thought that just as Greg had feared, all the experts were haggling over the details and still her girl was out there—and Beth hadn’t done a thing herself. She had let other people run the show, and still her little girl wasn’t home. And after this rage was over, she was going to have to start waiting again, and let their dialogue and speculation around her kitchen table begin.

“Goddamn it, Beth, listen to me,” Ross said. “There’s more to it than a simple extortion. Jeffers and Teague knew each other, but Jeffers was just as surprised as I was to find Janine behind that door. I know it.”

“Stop making excuses!” Beth snapped. A part of her was grateful when she saw Allie grab Ross and pull him away and out the door. Because Beth needed to blame someone, and he was the best candidate. She needed to scream.

But it was just as well Ross didn’t have to hear it anymore.

Chapter 46

Ross barely listened to Allie’s telephone call back to the house. He watched the shadows growing long on a hay field as they passed in her little car. Byrne had handed the portable phone to Allie as she’d pulled Ross out the door, and she was apparently talking to him now.

“We’ll be at my apartment. God knows I understand what Beth’s feeling, but he’s taken enough just now. I want your promise you’ll call the instant you hear anything, right?”

She glanced at Ross after disconnecting. “He’s given us his word.… He’s a good guy. You’re lucky you’ve got him on your side this time.”

Ross nodded his thanks. He didn’t want to speak. The words Beth had thrown at him made him feel mean. He knew well enough she was just lashing out because she was frightened. But he was tired and angry and had done everything he damn well could.

There’ll be no place for me if Janine dies,
he thought abruptly.
No place on earth where I can hide from myself

Allie took his hand. “Put your head back.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“So don’t. Just put your head back and close your eyes.”

He was going to argue. Tell her to mind her own damn business.

But he still didn’t feel like talking. And he liked the feel of her hand in his.

Minutes later, he was asleep.

At her apartment in Back Bay, he followed her up the stairs in a daze. He winced when she snapped on the light. He’d been there maybe a half-dozen times before. They’d had a busy few weeks during their brief affair. Now, unhappy and half-awake as he was, he was hungry for the warmth he remembered there.

The place was simple and elegant: with white-painted walls and original watercolors of coastal Maine scenes. “Wait here.” She came back minutes later with his bathrobe.

“You left this,” Allie said. “Hit the shower.”

Ross took the robe and went into the bathroom. The steam filled the room quickly, and she knocked on the door and took his clothes to wash. By the time he had dried off, she had a sandwich at the table. “Go ahead and eat this time. I won’t tell you terrible things about yourself as you do.”