The Stranger You Know (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Suzanne took the most indirect route possible, leaving her Manhattan apartment the instant she heard from Glen. He’d called her as soon as he and Jack got on the road and were driving south. His instructions were to wear a turtleneck shirt, grab the red wig and be on the move.

By the time the police received word of Glen’s escape, Suzanne would be too far away to tail. Of course, this would be the one and only time she’d get to see him—until they vanished for good. It would be too risky to make this trip once her apartment was under surveillance. As it was, she’d return today to a waiting team of law enforcement officials, who’d be firing questions at her.

Glen had prepared her for all of them.

Suzanne glanced at her watch. Even with time on her side, she’d taken mass transit and taxis in a roundabout route that finally landed her at the motel where Glen was staying. Jack would probably still be there, talking over the outstanding details of whatever they needed to take care of before they were done.

She didn’t want to know what those details were.

She just wanted the normal life she’d always dreamed of having.

She paid the taxi driver and walked through the motel parking lot, stopping at Room 8.

Two quick knocks. “It’s me,” she said in a subdued tone.

An instant later, the inside lock turned and the door opened just enough to allow her to squeeze through.

She barely noticed Jack, who greeted her with a grunt. Her eyes were fixed on the man sitting at the wooden desk with photos and notes spread out in front of him.

“Glen.” She rushed over and put her arms around him. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine.” He rose, pulled her against him and gave her a hard, demanding kiss. “You brought the wig?”

“It’s here in my tote bag.” Suzanne patted the bag that was draped over her shoulder, and let it slide to the floor.

“Good.” Glen shot a brief glance at Jack. “Make yourself scarce for an hour. Pick up some food. We haven’t eaten all day.”

“No problem.” Jack didn’t look surprised. He looked bored. “I’ll see you then.” He scooped up his jacket and left.

Glen gripped Suzanne’s shoulders, his thumbs biting into the hollows of her chest.

She winced, but said nothing.

“Put on the wig,” he commanded. “Then get undressed and get into bed. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

* * *

Jack took an extra fifteen minutes away from the motel just to be on the safe side. Glen had been on edge all day. It was like walking on eggshells—something Jack was
not
in the mood for. With any luck, a good lay would have put him in better spirits.

He knocked once, and waited for Suzanne’s response. She called out for him to come in. She sounded hoarse. He wasn’t surprised.

He turned his key in the door and walked in.

Glen was back at the desk where he’d been earlier, poring over the photos Jack had taken. Suzanne was curled up tightly on the bed, her fingers wrapped around the turtleneck collar of her shirt. She was trembling.

Business as usual.

“McDonald’s delivery,” Jack announced, putting a few bags of food and a tray of drinks on the nightstand. “Get it while it’s hot.”

Glen put down his pages and strode over. McDonald’s was something he’d missed. Good old junk food. There was nothing like it.

He gave Suzanne a backward look. “Time to eat.”

“I’m not very hungry,” she managed.

“Yeah, you are. You have to be after our...recreational break.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

Suzanne eased gingerly to her feet. Her entire body ached and her throat hurt so much she wondered if she could swallow. She walked unsteadily across the room, and then sat down on the other double bed, the one closer to the nightstand.

“Cheeseburger or fish?” Glen asked.

“Fish, please,” Suzanne rasped. Her hope was that fish would go down easier than meat.

“Here.” He handed her the wrapped sandwich and a tall cup of soda with a straw. “This’ll make you feel better.” He frowned as he saw some bruise marks peeking over the top of her turtleneck. “Pull your collar up higher before you leave,” he instructed. “We don’t want to give the cops any ideas.”

“Of course, Glen.” Suzanne took a sip of soda, and winced at the pain. “I’ll do exactly what we discussed.”

Hardly glancing at Suzanne, Jack swallowed a cheeseburger and gulped down a root beer. Then he walked over to the desk, collecting the photos he’d taken of their next victim and bringing them over to Glen.

“She’s hot. I’m jealous.”

Glen arched a brow at his nephew. “Don’t be. This isn’t about fun. It’s about inflicting as much pain on Casey Woods as possible. This will be the final emotional blow. After that, she’ll experience it all firsthand.”

“I want to do this one with you,” Jack stated.

“Do you?” Glen pursed his lips. “That might be interesting. Definitely more crushing for the victim—and for Casey Woods.”

“Yup.” Jack’s eyes lit up. “And I can come up with all kinds of embellishments.”

“That you
won’t
do.” Glen slammed his cup onto the table and bolted to his feet. “You shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place. I already told you that.”

“It’s creative. And amusing.” Jack wavered a bit, but held his ground.

“Listen.” Glen took two steps and loomed over him, grabbing his shirt with both fists. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re nobody.
Nobody.
You’re a punk kid who’s followed orders while I’ve been locked up in that shithole. But I’m here now. And I’m running things.”

Jack shrugged out of his uncle’s grasp. “I’m not the same kid you left behind when you were sent to Auburn,” he said with a defiant look. “Just read the papers. I’m the killer everyone’s afraid of now.”

Glen tensed up like a bowstring and slammed a fist into Jack’s jaw, knocking the younger guy onto the floor. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Watch your mouth. You couldn’t do shit without me. I’m the one who took you in and taught you everything. You want to play big shot for everyone else? Go ahead. But don’t try it with me. Not if you want to keep all your teeth in your head.”

A vein was throbbing at Jack’s temple, but he said nothing. He just rubbed his jaw, scrambled to his feet and walked over to the desk. He gathered up the diagrams they’d been reviewing.

“This is the campus layout,” he told Glen, giving him the sheets of paper. “I circled the areas that are more deserted at night. Those are our best bets for grabbing her and getting away.”

Glen reviewed the diagrams. “Over here,” he said decisively, pointing at one of Jack’s designated areas—a narrow passageway between buildings. “It’s behind the library. The chapel is the only building nearby. None of the kids are going to be hanging around waiting to pray. They’ll either be inside the library or partying elsewhere.”

Jack nodded. “She’s a studier. She usually heads to the library around seven and leaves when it closes at eleven forty-five. We can take her then. I’ve still got the Fusion right here in the parking lot.”

“Wrong.” Glen shook his head. “Talk about being compromised. Every cop in the state is going to be looking for that car. It’s a liability to us now. Get rid of it.”

Jack looked annoyed. “I could just change the plates.”

“I said get rid of it.” There was no give in Glen’s tone. “Tonight. Then get yourself back here. We’ll find our way into Manhattan when the time is right. I’ll take care of getting us a new car.”

“Find our way how?” Jack was bristling again. “Suzanne’s car isn’t here, and we couldn’t risk hiding out in the back of it, anyway. I still think I could lift some plates and we could get home in the Ford. We’ll dump it afterward.”

The look in Glen’s eyes was chilling. “Shut up. This isn’t a democracy. I give the orders. You follow them. The next time you challenge me, I’m going to break your scrawny neck. Now get out of here. Dump the car in East New York. Rent a motel room. Get yourself back here in the morning.”

“Then what?” Jack was visibly controlling himself. His hands had balled into fists at his sides.

“Suzanne will go out now and buy me hair dye and a change of clothes. Tomorrow she’ll go back to Manhattan the same way she came. You and I will take the bus.” A cutting pause. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Where did you plan on us staying in the city—at my apartment? The cops will eventually track down where I live and start swarming the place.”

The anger building inside Glen was a palpable entity—one that made Suzanne tremble all the more. “We’ll get a room in Brooklyn. I have the name of a place. It’s a couple of miles from where you’re dumping the car. It’s off the beaten path, and it’ll keep us off the grid. We’ll take care of that when you get back. Now shut your punk mouth and do what you’re told.”

Jack didn’t answer. He walked over and stuffed two more cheeseburgers in his pockets. “I’m on my way—
boss.
”

He made no move to temper the sarcasm in his voice.

Without looking back, he left the motel room, slamming the door behind him.

Suzanne watched the pulse throbbing at Glen’s throat, and the terrifying gleam that came into his eyes. Then she stared at the closed door.

Dear God, now there were two of them.

* * *

It took less than an hour after Captain Sharp’s call to round up the entire FI team and assemble them around the main conference table so they could create an immediate action plan.

Before one word was said, Hutch strode into the room, a grim expression on his face. He went right over to Casey, who was seated at the head of the table.

“I just got out of a task force meeting. Are you all right?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder.

“I’m hanging in there,” she replied. “I’ve had better days, but I’ll survive.”

“Yeah, you will.” Hutch’s jaw was working. He was clearly furious about Fisher’s escape. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Casey glanced up at him in surprise. “I assumed the Bureau had you on the move—that they’d asked you to drive up to Auburn to dig around.”

“They tried. I told them Brian could handle it alone. I’m staying here with you.”

“Not happening.” Casey gave a shake of her head. “You’re the best there is. I want you grilling the Auburn prison staff and inmates with Brian. Not staying in Tribeca babysitting me.”

“Casey will be fine, Hutch,” Marc interceded. “I’ll be staying at the brownstone around-the-clock. Fisher would have to get through me to get to Casey. And he already knows what I’m capable of.” Marc’s gaze shifted to Casey. “You’re my assignment, by the way.”

“So I gathered.” Casey’s tone was dry. “Okay, fine. If it’ll get Hutch to do his job, I’m game.”

Hutch and Marc exchanged a glance. Knowing Marc as well as he did, Hutch conceded. “I’ll leave tonight. It’s obvious that someone—probably a prison guard—helped Fisher escape. I’ll find out who, and what, he supplied Fisher with. I’ll interview every damned prisoner Fisher interacted with if I have to. I’ll get the information we need. I’ll also check out any motels near the crash site, just in case. Fisher is staying somewhere. And I doubt it’s with Jack. That’s way too risky.”

“Yes, and he sure as hell isn’t going to his apartment,” Marc added. “Although he might get in touch with Suzanne through a burn phone.”

“Let Suzanne Fisher be my project.” Claire spoke up with quiet assurance. “She felt a connection to me when we visited last time. I’m not law enforcement. I’m not aggressive. I’m a safe person for her to turn to. If I play my cards right, I might be able to get something out of her. If nothing else, I might pick up on some new energy—something Suzanne is feeling now that her husband is a free man.”

“That’s definitely a good match.” Casey gave an emphatic okay to Claire’s suggestion. “Drop in to make sure she’s okay. I saw the way she acted around you. She’ll let you in. You’ll make her feel as if you’re an ally.”

“Exactly.”

“Let me do some legwork,” Patrick suggested. “I’ll backtrack through all of Fisher’s previous crimes. That might give us some insight into his future behavior. He wants Casey, yes. But he has to have a plan to get her. He knows we’ll be keeping her under lock and key. So let’s see what methods he’s used to draw people out in the past.”

“That’s a good idea,” Casey said, nodding. “Anything we can do to get inside Glen Fisher’s head is significant.” She glanced at Ryan. “Are you still digging up data on Jack Fisher? Because he’s the obvious suspect as Glen’s co-conspirator. We need to draw him out.”

“Yeah.” Ryan was thinking. “Now that it’s been found, I’m abandoning my investigation into the silver pickup. I’ve got to find out what kind of car Jack got his hands on and how he orchestrated it—the wheres and whens. The minute I get downstairs, I’m going to start digging to see what auto thefts have been reported within a two-hour driving radius of the crash site.”

“Also, someone has to talk to the corrections officers who were driving the van.” Casey turned to Hutch. “I could do it. Marc would come with me.”