Read Online Harlan Coben by No Second Chance - Free Book Online

warning.
    We were getting close to drop time. The sun beat down on my windshield. I reached for my sunglasses but then thought better of it. I don’tknow why. Would putting on my sunglasses somehow make the kidnapper uneasy? No, I don’t think so. Or maybe it would. Better to just leave them off. Take no chances.
    My shoulders bunched up. I kept trying to look around without, for some odd reason, looking conspicuous about it. Whenever someone parked near me or walked anywhere in the vicinity of my car, my stomach tightened and I wondered:
    Was Tara nearby?
    We were at the two-hour mark now. I wanted this over. The next few minutes would decide everything. I knew that. Calm. I needed to stay calm. Tickner’s warning reverberated in my head. Would someone simply walk up to my car and blow my brains out?
    It was, I realized, a very real possibility.
    When the cell phone rang, I started forward. I brought it to my ear and barked a too-quick hello.
    The robotic voice said, “Pull out by the west exit.”
    I was confused. “Which way is west?”
    â€œFollow the signs for Route Four. Take the overpass. We’re watching. If someone follows, we disappear. Keep the phone near your ear.”
    I obeyed with gusto; my right hand pressed the phone against my ear to the point where I started losing circulation. My left hand gripped the wheel as if preparing to tear it off.
    â€œGet on Route Four heading west.”
    I took the right turn and jug-handled onto the highway. I looked in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was following me. Hard to tell.
    The robotic voice said, “You’ll see a strip mall.”
    â€œThere’s a million strip malls,” I said.
    â€œIt’s on the right, next to a store selling baby cribs. In front of the Paramus Road exit.”
    I saw it. “Okay.”
    â€œPull in there. You’ll see a driveway on the left. Take it to the back and kill the engine. Have the money ready for me.”
    I understood immediately why the kidnapper had picked this spot. There was only one way in. The stores were all for rent, except for the baby-crib place. That was on the far right. In other words, it was self-contained and directly off a highway. There was no way anyone could come around back or even slow down without being noticed.
    I hope the feds understood that.
    When I reached the back of the building, I saw a man standing by a van. He wore a red-and-black flannel shirt with black jeans, dark sunglasses, and a Yankee baseball cap. I tried to find something distinct, but the word that came to mind was average . Average height, average build. The only thing was his nose. Even from this distance I could see it was misshapen, like an ex-boxer’s. But was that real or some kind of disguise? I didn’t know.
    I checked out the van. There was a sign for “B & T Electricians” of Ridgewood, New Jersey. No phone number or address. The license plate was from New Jersey. I memorized it.
    The man raised a cell phone to his lips walkie-talkie style, and I heard the mechanical voice say, “I’m going to approach. Pass the money through the window. Do not get out of the car. Do not say a word to me. When we’re safely away with the money, I’ll call and tell you where to pick up your daughter.”
    The man in red flannel and black jeans lowered the phone and approached. His shirt was untucked. Did he have a gun? I couldn’t tell. And even if he did, what could I do about it now? I hit the button to open the windows. They didn’t budge. The key needed to be turned. The man was getting closer. The Yankee cap was pulled down until the brim touched the sunglasses. I reached for the key and gave it a tiny twist. The lights on the dashboard sprung to life. I pressed the button again. The window slid down.
    Again I tried to find something about the man that was distinct. His walk was slightly off balance, as though maybe he’d had a drink or