the hands of some black woman who said she would kill them, was why I called you.”
“You’re sure she was alone there?”
“She told me she was alone. She told me not to come in today, said she wanted to be alone if that woman called again. I have to assume, if Mrs. Glendenning tells me she’s alone in the house, that she really is. ”
“And where is this, Mrs. Garrity?” Sally asks.
“Where is what, Agent Ballew?”
“ Special Agent Ballew,” Sally corrects. “Where is this house where Mrs. Glendenning is sitting alone waiting for a call from a black kidnapper?”
When the telephone rings, they all turn to look at the clock.
It is 11:40 A . M .
Sloate puts on the earphones.
“I think I’m ready now,” Marcia says.
“Go ahead,” Sloate says, and indicates that Alice is to pick up the phone.
She lifts the receiver.
“Hello?” she says.
“Alice?”
“Who’s this?”
“Rafe.”
“Rafe?”
“Your brother-in-law. Want to give lunch to a poor wandering soul?”
“Where… where are you, Rafe?”
“My rig’s right outside a 7-Eleven on… where is this place, mister?” he shouts. “ Where? I’m up here in Bradenton. How far is that from you?”
“Rafe, I don’t think it would be a good idea…”
“I’ll get directions,” he says. “See you.”
There is a click on the line.
“I thought he was supposed to be in Mobile by now,” Sloate says.
“Apparently not.”
“Who was it?” Marcia says.
“Rafe,” Sloate says. “The jailbird brother-in-law. He’s on his way over.”
“We don’t need him here,” Marcia says.
“I don’t need anyone here,” Alice says.
The grandfather clock reads 11:45 A . M .
“Hello?”
In that single word, Christine knows intuitively that someone is in that house with Alice Glendenning. She simply senses it. The certain knowledge that the woman is not alone.
“Is someone there with you?” she asks at once.
“No, I’m alone,” Alice says.
“You didn’t call the police, did you?”
“No.”
“Because you know that’s the end of your kids, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Stay right there by the phone,” Christine says, and hangs up, and goes back to the blue Impala she’s parked at the curb alongside the phone booth. She begins driving at once, searching for the next pay phone along the Trail. She is not positive about how telephone traces work, but she thinks maybe they can close in on specific locations if not specific phone numbers. She called on a cell phone last night, from where the two of them are holding the kids, but they decided together that it would be safer if she called from pay phones this morning.
She pulls off the road as soon as she spots one in a strip mall. She gets out of the Impala again, walks over to the plastic phone shell, and dials Alice’s number.
She looks at her watch.
12:10 P . M .
She hears the phone ringing on the other end, once, twice…
“Hello?”
“Have you got the money?” she asks.
“Not yet,” Alice says.
“What’s taking you so long?”
“There are securities to sell. It isn’t easy to raise that much cash overnight.”
“When will you have it?” Christine asks.
There is a silence on the line.
Someone coaching her for sure. Hand signals, or scribbled notes, whatever. She is not alone in that house.
“I’m still working on it.”
“Work on it faster,” Christine says, and hangs up. She looks at her watch again. The call took fifteen seconds, going on sixteen. She does not think they can effect a trace in that short a time. She goes back to the car, and drives along the Trail until she spots another pay phone. It is 12:17 when she calls the house again.
“Hello?”
“Get the money by this afternoon at three,” Christine says. “We’ll call then with instructions.”
“Wait!”
“What? Fast!”
“How do I know they’re still alive? Send me a Polaroid picture of the two of them holding today’s Tribune. ”
“What?”
“Send
“You’re sure she was alone there?”
“She told me she was alone. She told me not to come in today, said she wanted to be alone if that woman called again. I have to assume, if Mrs. Glendenning tells me she’s alone in the house, that she really is. ”
“And where is this, Mrs. Garrity?” Sally asks.
“Where is what, Agent Ballew?”
“ Special Agent Ballew,” Sally corrects. “Where is this house where Mrs. Glendenning is sitting alone waiting for a call from a black kidnapper?”
When the telephone rings, they all turn to look at the clock.
It is 11:40 A . M .
Sloate puts on the earphones.
“I think I’m ready now,” Marcia says.
“Go ahead,” Sloate says, and indicates that Alice is to pick up the phone.
She lifts the receiver.
“Hello?” she says.
“Alice?”
“Who’s this?”
“Rafe.”
“Rafe?”
“Your brother-in-law. Want to give lunch to a poor wandering soul?”
“Where… where are you, Rafe?”
“My rig’s right outside a 7-Eleven on… where is this place, mister?” he shouts. “ Where? I’m up here in Bradenton. How far is that from you?”
“Rafe, I don’t think it would be a good idea…”
“I’ll get directions,” he says. “See you.”
There is a click on the line.
“I thought he was supposed to be in Mobile by now,” Sloate says.
“Apparently not.”
“Who was it?” Marcia says.
“Rafe,” Sloate says. “The jailbird brother-in-law. He’s on his way over.”
“We don’t need him here,” Marcia says.
“I don’t need anyone here,” Alice says.
The grandfather clock reads 11:45 A . M .
“Hello?”
In that single word, Christine knows intuitively that someone is in that house with Alice Glendenning. She simply senses it. The certain knowledge that the woman is not alone.
“Is someone there with you?” she asks at once.
“No, I’m alone,” Alice says.
“You didn’t call the police, did you?”
“No.”
“Because you know that’s the end of your kids, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Stay right there by the phone,” Christine says, and hangs up, and goes back to the blue Impala she’s parked at the curb alongside the phone booth. She begins driving at once, searching for the next pay phone along the Trail. She is not positive about how telephone traces work, but she thinks maybe they can close in on specific locations if not specific phone numbers. She called on a cell phone last night, from where the two of them are holding the kids, but they decided together that it would be safer if she called from pay phones this morning.
She pulls off the road as soon as she spots one in a strip mall. She gets out of the Impala again, walks over to the plastic phone shell, and dials Alice’s number.
She looks at her watch.
12:10 P . M .
She hears the phone ringing on the other end, once, twice…
“Hello?”
“Have you got the money?” she asks.
“Not yet,” Alice says.
“What’s taking you so long?”
“There are securities to sell. It isn’t easy to raise that much cash overnight.”
“When will you have it?” Christine asks.
There is a silence on the line.
Someone coaching her for sure. Hand signals, or scribbled notes, whatever. She is not alone in that house.
“I’m still working on it.”
“Work on it faster,” Christine says, and hangs up. She looks at her watch again. The call took fifteen seconds, going on sixteen. She does not think they can effect a trace in that short a time. She goes back to the car, and drives along the Trail until she spots another pay phone. It is 12:17 when she calls the house again.
“Hello?”
“Get the money by this afternoon at three,” Christine says. “We’ll call then with instructions.”
“Wait!”
“What? Fast!”
“How do I know they’re still alive? Send me a Polaroid picture of the two of them holding today’s Tribune. ”
“What?”
“Send
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