24 Hours

SEVENTEEN

Hickey drove south along the interstate at fifty-five miles per hour, his face wet with sweat. His right thigh was thoroughly soaked in blood.

“I think some more stitches broke,” he said. “You aren’t much of a doctor. I think you’re going to have to do some repairs here.”

Karen had not given the suturing her best effort. “I don’t have Will’s bag. I could probably tape it up, if you stop at a drugstore.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Hickey looked in the rearview mirror, then changed lanes. “But I may have to.”

“Are we on our way to get Abby?”

“We’re on our way to a drugstore.”

“Are you letting us go when you get the money?”

“That’s up to your husband. Let’s see if he can follow simple instructions. Start looking for a drugstore.”

Karen glanced to her left, searching the strip malls that lined the interstate. She was pretty sure there was an Eckerd’s along here somewhere.

“There’s a cop back there,” Hickey said, straightening in his seat.

She started to turn, but he grabbed her knee and said, “Don’t look.”

“Cops are always patrolling this interstate,” she told him.

“This one’s acting squirrelly. He’s ten lengths back, but hanging on me like a trailer. He’s running our plate.”

“Were you speeding?”

“You think I’m going to speed today? This is your husband, goddamn it. The son of a bitch called somebody. That’s the only way they’d know what to look for.”

“What about the shooting at our house?”

“They wouldn’t have issued an APB on this vehicle off that. Not yet, anyway,” He checked the rearview again. “That SOB is still back there.”

“You’re paranoid! And you’re driving suspiciously.” Karen spotted the Eckerd’s on her left. “Take the next exit. Northside Drive. There’s our drugstore.”

Hickey leaned toward her, then craned his neck backward and looked up through the moonroof.

“What are you doing? Watch the road!”

“Paranoid, huh? Take a look.”

The moonroof was tinted against the sun, but even so, Karen could see the large dot against the sky. It was a helicopter.

“That’s probably the WLBT traffic chopper,” she said. But for the first time, she wondered.

“Traffic chopper, my ass.” Hickey reached down and punched a number into the cell phone. After a few seconds of silence, it began to ring.

“Joey?” said Huey.

“That’s right, boy. You all ready?”

“Ready.”

“Were you born ready?”

“Um… yeah.”

“It’s time to go to the backup.”

“Okay.”

Karen’s chest tightened. “You said that before. What’s the backup plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“May I please speak to Abby? Please.”

Hickey sighed with frustration. “Huey, is the kid right there?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Karen’s maternal radar went on alert. “Has she been to the bathroom a lot this morning, Huey?”

“She sure has.”

“Oh God. Her sugar’s going up. She needs her shot.”

“And I’m bleeding to death,” Hickey said. “Stay cool. You’ve got stuff with you, and we’ll be there in plenty of time.”

“When?”

“Here she comes!” Huey sang out.

“Abby?” cried Karen.

After a brief silence, Abby said, “Mama?”

“Goddamn it,” Hickey muttered.

Karen’s heart leaped. “I’m here, baby. Are you all right?”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m going south, like Daddy says.”

Karen fought to keep control of her voice. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s on her way to get you right now.”

“You are?”

“I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Put Huey back on,” Hickey said.

“I’ll be there before you know it,” Karen said again. “Now, put Mr. Huey back on, baby.”

“Okay. Hurry, Mom.”

“I’m on my way!”

“Joey?” said Huey.

“I’m here. You know what to do? Everything just like I told you.”

“I remember.”

“We’ll talk when we see each other.”

“Okay. But, Joey?”

“What?”

“Is everything gonna be okay?”

“You bet. Get going, now.”

“Okay. Bye-bye.”

Just before Hickey pressed END, Karen heard Abby yell, “Bye, Mom!” and she filled with pride. Abby was hanging in there.

“Bastards,” Hickey said, looking up through the moonroof again. “If your husband had done what he was supposed to, you’d be going straight to your little girl right now.”

Karen’s heart stuttered. “You said we were!”

“We’re not going anywhere until I lose this tail.”

“You don’t know it is a tail.”

A scornful grunt was his only comment. “Your husband had better be getting my goddamn money.”

“He is! You know he is.”

“He’s trying to fuck me over is what I know. And I’ll tell you this. If they try to stop this truck-”

“I’ll say whatever you tell me to!” she promised. “All I want to do is get to Abby.”

Hickey checked the rearview mirror again. “The squad car dropped back out of sight. They’re playing us loose. They want to follow us to the girl.”

Oh, Jesus, Karen thought. Will, what did you do?

Without warning, Hickey veered across two lanes of traffic and onto an exit ramp. At the bottom, he swung under the interstate and onto a wide boulevard.

“Lakeland Drive?” said Karen. “Is this the way we went last night?”

“You just sit tight, Mom.”

“This is the road to the airport.”

“That it is.” Hickey laughed softly.

“This way, Dr. Jennings.”

Will turned down a hall that led off the bank’s main lobby and followed the secretary up a short flight of stairs. Upon entering the bank, he had seen that dealing with a teller was not the way to go. There were lines at the windows, and even the loan officers in the glassed-in cubicles had customers. He walked up to a secretary, identified himself, and asked to see the senior officer at the bank. When she asked what it concerned, he told her he was receiving a wire transfer of two hundred thousand dollars and wouldn’t deal with anyone but the top man. The young woman made a call, then asked him to follow her up the stairs.

The staircase ended at another hall, this one lined with doors. She led him to the one at the end, knocked, then opened it and showed him into a typical branch bank office, furnished out of mail-order catalogs. Behind a mahogany veneer desk sat a balding man in his early fifties, with shining skin and a line of sweat on his upper lip. He stood.

“Hello, Dr. Jennings. That’ll be all, Cindy.”

The door closed behind Will, and the man held out a plump hand. “I’m Jack Moore, vice president.”

Will shook the hand and looked around the office again. There was a small door on the wall to his right, partially open.

“What’s that?”

“My private rest room,” Moore said.

“Oh.”

“How can I help you, Doctor? Your wire came in a few minutes ago. What would you like to do with the money?”

“I want to withdraw it in cash. I also need to withdraw some personal funds. I have a hundred and fifty thousand in CDs deposited with this bank in Jackson.”

Moore wiped his upper lip. “You want to walk out of here with three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in a suitcase?”

“That’s right.” Cheryl had retrieved a cheap briefcase from her suite as they left the Beau Rivage.

“I see. Well…” Moore glanced at his rest room door. “If that’s what you want, I guess…”

The rest room door opened, and a tall man with sandy hair and blue eyes stepped out.

Will backpedaled to the door. “What the hell is this?”

“Dr. Jennings,” said the stranger. “I’m Special Agent Bill Chalmers. I’m fully aware of your situation, and I’m here to help you.”

Will was so stunned that he simply stood where he was. “But-How did you get here? How did you know where to go? Harley Ferris didn’t know where I was going.”

Chalmers nodded. “There’s a sofa behind you, Doctor. Please sit down. We don’t have much time, and we have a lot to do.”

“I only have one thing to do. Get my money and get out of here.”

“Please sit down, Doctor. I think you’ll like what I have to say.”

Will backed up until his calves hit something padded. He sat.

“Do you know a cardiovascular surgeon named James McDill?”

“McDill? Sure. He’s a member out at Annandale. He doesn’t play much golf. Collects cars, I think.” Even as he spoke the word “collects,” something ticked in Will’s brain.

“Exactly one year ago,” said Chalmers, “James McDill’s son, Peter, was kidnapped in exactly the same way your daughter was yesterday.”

Will blinked in disbelief.

“He didn’t report the crime until last night, and nobody knows why better than you. But this week he was overcome with anxiety that it might happen again. He called our Jackson field office around eleven last night. I was on duty, and we’ve been working ever since to piece together what’s going on.”

“Have you talked to Harley Ferris? Do you know where my little girl is?”

“Mr. Ferris is working with us now. We’ve augmented CellStar’s tracing crew with a SWAT team, and we just had a very lucky break. Get a grip on yourself, Doctor. The man holding Abby just took a call on his cell phone, and he forgot to switch it off. The SWAT team estimates they’re two minutes from your daughter’s position.”

Waves of shock and hope buffeted Will. Even after Ferris’s assurances, Chalmers’s words seemed incomprehensible. “What do they plan to do when they get there?”

Chalmers walked up to the couch and squatted, so that his eyes were level with Will’s. “We think we should go in and get her.”

“You mean, guns blazing?”

“Not quite, no. We have special entry devices. Heat sensors and video to accurately place human bodies in the structure. They’ll use special stun grenades to incapacitate the tango, then-”

“Tango?” Will interrupted.

“Sorry, that’s radio slang for terrorists. These guys train to rescue hostages from terrorists.”

“Can’t you try to talk him out?”

Chalmers smiled patiently. “We could do that. But it’s our understanding that the man holding Abby is mentally handicapped. The leader is still loose. He could call this Huey at any time and order him to kill your daughter.”

Will felt as though he and Abby were standing in the path of a truck and couldn’t move. “Can’t Ferris shut off Huey’s phone?”

“Yes, but that might panic him. Or he might be under orders to kill your daughter if his communications are cut off. Right now-while Huey and Abby are isolated from the leader-we have a golden opportunity to go in. Before the situation deteriorates any further.”

After a night spent in ignorance, Will was having difficulty processing the sudden influx of information. “I still don’t understand how you got here. How you knew it would be this bank.”

“We didn’t. We put an agent in every bank of any size in Gulfport and Biloxi. I requested this one because it was the largest. I flew down early this morning. The minute your wire came in, I contacted my Special Agent-in-Charge in Jackson. His name’s Frank Zwick. And he wants to talk to you.”

“Is he in contact with the SWAT team?”

“Yes.”

“Please call him. And there’s a woman outside in my rental car. One of the kidnappers.”

Chalmers nodded. “Cheryl Lynn Tilly. We’ll leave her alone until the team hits the cabin. If she gets suspicious and comes inside, you can tell her there’s some delay with paperwork. We have more agents converging on the bank right now, but they’ll be discreet coming in.”

“I can’t believe all this.”

The FBI agent smiled. “In a few minutes, your daughter will be in FBI custody, Doctor.”

Will was afraid to let himself believe it.

“You did well getting Harley Ferris involved. I only wish you would have called us earlier. Trusted us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I understand.” Chalmers got up and went to Moore’s desk. The bank’s vice president looked as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening before his eyes. “Would you excuse us, Mr. Moore?”

“Of course.” The banker made a hasty exit.

Chalmers dialed a number on Moore’s phone.

“The leader’s name is Hickey,” Will said. “Joe Hickey. He has my wife with him, and he’s one clever son of a bitch. Do you know where they are now?”

“Driving toward Jackson International Airport.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. They’re not going anywhere. We’re watching them from a helicopter, and we’ve got men in the airport. Hang on.” Chalmers spoke into the phone. “Chalmers here. I’ve got Dr. Jennings with me…He’s on board with us…Yes, sir. Any word on the little girl?” Chalmers gave Will a thumbs-up.

“I want to talk to him,” Will said, standing.

“I’ll tell him,” Chalmers said, and hung up. “The SAC has a lot on his plate right now, Doctor.”

“What’s happening?”

“SWAT found the cabin.”

“The green pickup truck?”

“It’s parked under the trees.”

Will closed his eyes and began to pray.

Eight FBI agents in camouflage ninja fatigues and black headgear crept silently through the trees toward the cabin, their Heckler and Koch submachine guns tight against their bodies. A ninth agent was already under the structure, scanning the small floor plan with a supersensitive microphone and headphones. Their leader was Special Agent Martin Cody, and Cody was in radio contact with the agent under the house.

“Got anything?” he said into the microphone mounted inside his ballistic glass face mask.

“Not yet.” Special Agent Sims Jackson was observing the cabin through a thermal imaging camera. “Nothing but a hot water heater.”

Cody didn’t like that. The truck was there, but the people weren’t? Was there a root cellar of some kind? Could the tango have detected their approach and fled into the woods? It would be tough carrying a five-year-old girl, but Cody had been told the man was big. He could also have killed the little girl and fled alone, but even if she’d been dead a couple of hours, there should still be enough heat in the corpse to register on the thermal imaging device.

“Cody to tracing van,” he said into his mike. The CellStar van was seventy yards back up the logging road. “Has the cell phone moved?”

“Negative. Still in the same position.”

“We’re going in,” Cody said into his mike. “Prepare for explosive entry. Stun grenades through the windows, ram on the front door. It looks thin as paper, but you never know.”

A staccato burst of mike clicks answered him.

“Shoot high,” Cody reminded them, though they knew the drill already. “This kid probably isn’t much over three feet, which is a good break. Okay… deploy.”

What followed was a ballet the team had rehearsed hundreds of times. Men moving forward without sound, carrying weapons they could dismantle and put back together in absolute darkness. In thirty seconds the team had deployed around the cabin, grenades and HKs at the ready.

Agent Cody had a bad feeling about the assault, but he often got those just before contact. He checked to make sure his ram team was in position to hit the door. It was.

“On my five-count,” he said. “Five-four-three-two-GO!” The cabin windows shattered one second before the front door went down. Even in daylight, the blue-white flash of the stun grenades lit up the windows, followed by ear-shattering bangs. Cody saw his men vanish into the cabin. He charged forward and went through the front door five seconds behind them.

The raised cabin floor shuddered under the impact of boots. The interior was filled with smoke, but it cleared quickly through the broken windows. There were no cries of “FEDERAL AGENTS!” because no one could have heard them after the stun grenades.

“Bedroom! No joy!” cried the speaker in Cody’s helmet.

“Kitchen, no joy!”

“Bedroom closet’s empty!”

Cody checked the corners of the front room, in case the girl was lying dead in one of them. He found nothing.

“Cell phone!” someone shouted. “Cell phone in the kitchen!”

“Got another one!” cried someone else. “Landline in the bedroom!”

Landline? Cody had been told there was no landline in the cabin, and he had seen no wires outside. Maybe there was a buried cable running to the building. He went into the kitchen and saw one of his men holding the cell phone. He was about to take it when the phone began to ring. Cody yanked off his helmet, stared at the phone for a few seconds, then took it and hit SEND.

“Yeah?” he said, hoping the caller would mistake him for whomever he had tried to call.

“Do you have Prince Albert in the can?” asked a male voice.

Cody stood dumbfounded for a moment. “Who is this?”

He heard wild laughter; then the caller clicked off.

Cody put his helmet back on and keyed his mike. “Tracing van, did you hear that call?”

“Affirmative.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Unknown. We’re checking.”

Cody ripped off his helmet again, pulled a digital cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the private number of SAC Zwick in Jackson.

Will paced back and forth across the banker’s small office. Agent Chalmers sat behind Moore’s desk, speaking quietly to Zwick. Suddenly, Chalmers groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand.

“What happened?” Will asked. “What happened, goddamn it?”

Chalmers looked up, his face pale. “The cabin was empty when SWAT went in. Huey and your daughter weren’t there.”

“What?” Will searched his mind for an explanation. “It must have been the wrong cabin.”

“It wasn’t. They found the cell phone inside. And someone-probably Hickey-actually called them on it while they were there. Made a joke out of it.”

Will shook his head in disbelief.

“They also found a landline in the cabin, which means Hickey could have given Huey new instructions without anyone knowing. The phone company has no record of that line. It’s probably an illegal tap.”

A landline. He should have known Hickey wouldn’t let Huey operate without some sort of backup. “But the truck was still there?”

“The truck was there, but the battery had been removed. It looks like there might have been another vehicle there. They may have gotten away in it.”

“May have? Are you kidding me? They’re gone!”

“Doctor-”

“Give me that goddamn phone!”

Will snatched the phone from Chalmers’s hand and shouted into it: “Are you the guy in charge of this Chinese fire drill?”

“This is Frank Zwick, Doctor. Special Agent-in-Charge. Losing your temper isn’t going to help your little girl.”

“You just tell me, what do you plan to do now?”

“I’m deciding that at this moment. You can help me. Did Cheryl Lynn Tilly mention any possible destination that would require air travel?”

“Costa Rica. She said Hickey has a ranch down there. Or some land, anyway.”

“Costa Rica? You can’t fly direct from Jackson to Costa Rica. And there’s no reservation for a Joe or Joseph Hickey on any flight out of Jackson today. So, he must be flying out under an alias, with a connecting flight to South America.”

“Look, if Hickey called your men at the cabin, he knows you’re involved. You may have just killed my little girl, Zwick.”

“I seriously doubt that, Doctor. Hickey wants two things: his money and his freedom. Killing your daughter won’t help him get either. She’s half his total leverage now.”

“You don’t know what’s going on! It’s not about money. Hickey thinks I killed his mother on the operating table. This is about revenge. He wants to kill Abby. To punish me.”

There was a brief silence. Then Zwick said, “That’s a disturbing new perspective, Doctor.”

“You’re goddamn right it is.”

“Do you know this Hickey? Do you remember him?”

Will heard another phone ringing. It was the cell phone in his pocket. Cheryl’s phone. “Hang on, I think Hickey’s calling me.” He dug the phone out of his pocket and hit SEND. “Hello?”

“What’s up, Doc?”

Will nodded at Chalmers. “I’m in the bank, getting your money.”

“You’re lying. You called the FBI.”

“Joe-”

“Where’s Cheryl?”

“In the parking lot. I brought the phone in with me.”

“Why?”

“So I could tell you what was happening if you called.”

“Well… the plan has changed. Your wife and me are about to take a little airplane ride. And if I see a cop or an FBI agent within a mile of me, I’m going to put one right in her ear. You follow?”

“Joe, I’m getting your money! Just tell me where you want it!”

“We’ll work that out later. You just get it all ready to go. And tell your new friends to keep clear of that airport.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Joe, where’s my daughter?”

“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” Hickey laughed. “Hasta luego, amigo. Just remember, whatever happens, you called the play.”

The phone went dead. Will felt as though his heart had been ripped out through his chest wall. He picked up the other phone and told Zwick what had transpired.

The SAC said, “I’m going to pull back my men and let them get into the airport.”

“Why? Won’t Hickey be harder to stop with lots of people around?”

“Yes, but it’s possible that this Huey character and your daughter are already inside the airport waiting for him. If we bust Hickey outside, they might just disappear.”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. But if they are inside, what can you do? How can you stop Hickey then? What’s to keep him from putting a gun to Abby’s head?”

“The fact that he’s dead.”

“You mean you’ll shoot him on sight? Can you do that?”

“Kidnapping is an extraordinary crime, Doctor. The rules of engagement allow for a great deal of discretion. And an airport is a high-security area. I can promise you this. If your little girl is in there, and Hickey makes a move toward her with a weapon, his brain will be removed from his cranium without benefit of anesthetic.”

“Do you have sharpshooters there?”

“They’ll be in position before Hickey gets inside the building. Now, I have a lot to arrange, Doctor. Put Agent Chalmers back on the phone.”

As Will handed over the phone, several thoughts came to him at once. Any logistics that Zwick had to arrange were in Jackson, not Biloxi. Right now he was almost certainly telling Chalmers to make sure Will stayed right where he was, under FBI control. But Will’s primary concern was Hickey. Even now, the man was controlling the movements of everyone involved in the situation. Five times he had pulled off these kidnappings, and the FBI had never even been told about them. At the cabin he had proved he could stay two steps ahead of the SWAT team and laugh while doing it. Opposing his proven brilliance was Frank Zwick, a man Will knew nothing about. He had to assume that Zwick knew his job, but instinct told him that the events of the next few minutes would not be as easy to control as the SAC believed. The FBI did not really know where Huey and Abby were. They might be in the Jackson airport; they might also be sixty miles away. As Chalmers listened to his boss on the phone, Will walked quietly out of the office.

“Where are you going?” Chalmers called. “Doctor?”

Will paused in the hall. “To get the ransom money.”

“It’s no good to you now.”

“You don’t know that. Hickey said to get it, so I’m getting it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He took the stairs two at a time going down.

Five miles east of downtown Jackson, Hickey turned

Karen’s Expedition onto the main airport access road.

“Where are we going?” Karen asked. She was terrified that Hickey would board a flight to Costa Rica without telling her where Abby was being held.

“You just watch.”

“We’ve got to get to Abby, Joe. Her sugar’s going up.”

“Just shut your goddamn mouth for five minutes. I got everything under control.”

Karen leaned back and looked up through the moonroof. The helicopter was still there. It had stayed practically on top of them all the way from the interstate. Hickey was right. It had to be the police. Or the FBI. She hoped to God Will knew what he was doing.

The SHORT TERM PARKING sign flashed past. Then ARRIVALS /DEPARTURES.

“Are we flying somewhere?” she asked. “Do you have a plane here?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a whole fleet of them.” Hickey glared at her. “You just can’t be quiet, can you? I bet your husband thinks you are one big pain in the ass.”

She sat back and tried to stay calm. Despite the helicopter overhead, Hickey had not ordered Abby harmed. Unless the “backup plan” was to kill her. Karen gripped the handle on the windshield post as Hickey swerved into the LONG TERM PARKING lane. He stopped at the barrier, took a ticket from the machine, then accelerated into the concrete-roofed garage.

He rounded the first turn at forty miles an hour. The brakes squealed as they neared the elevator on the terminal side of the building. Hickey seemed to be looking for signs of police. Seeing nothing, he accelerated around the next curve and almost ran over a young woman in a navy blue skirt suit, who was pulling a suitcase from the trunk of a silver Camry. He screeched to a stop, reversed a few feet, then pulled into the parking space beside the Camry.

“What are you doing?” Karen asked.

He jumped out and closed the distance to the woman in the time it took Karen to turn and look. As the woman gaped, Hickey smashed Will’s . 38 into the side of her head. She dropped like a stone.

“Get out!” Hickey shouted at Karen. “Help me!”

A wave of nausea nearly overcame her, but she forced herself to get out and move to the back of the Expedition. Hickey was bent over the prostrate woman, rifling through her purse.

“What are you doing?”

He snatched his hand from the purse with a jangle of car keys and hit the UNLOCK button on the ring. “Get in the backseat of the Camry! Move!”

Hickey grabbed the woman under the arms and heaved her upper body into the Camry’s trunk. There was blood in her hair. The blow from the pistol had torn part of her ear away from her skull. She moaned in pain and confusion, but Hickey took no notice. He stuffed her legs into the trunk, then slammed it shut. When he turned to Karen, his eyes were as cold as any she had ever seen.

“Get your ass in that car, or you’ll never see Abby alive again.”

He didn’t wait for her to obey. He jumped into the driver’s seat, cranked the Camry, and backed out of the parking space.

Snapped from her trance by the realization that he might actually leave without her, Karen leaped forward and began hammering on the back door, which had automatically locked when he cranked the engine. Hickey looked back at her but did not open the door.

“Please!” she screamed, her heart in her throat. “Open the door! Open it!”

He waited a few seconds, then unlocked the door. Karen jumped inside and pulled the door shut after her.

“Get on the floor,” Hickey ordered.

She lay stomach-down across the carpeted hump behind the front seat. Hickey drove at normal speed through the lines of parked cars.

“Are we leaving the airport?” she asked.

“Yes, we are!” he cried in his Wink Martindale voice. “That nice lady left her parking receipt right here on the drink caddy!”

Karen couldn’t believe it. Hickey was going to drive right out from under the nose of the helicopter hovering overhead. The strange thing was that she wanted him to succeed. She had seen enough of his personality to know that if he were arrested, he would clam up and smile at the police while Abby died in a diabetic coma somewhere.

Hickey stopped at the exit booth.

“How would you like to pay for that, sir?” asked a woman with a Hispanic accent.

“Cash, chiquita.”

“One dollar, please.”

Hickey had the money ready.

“Sir, the short-term parking lot is much more convenient for brief-”

“I’d love to chat,” Hickey said, “but you’ve got cars waiting. Hasta la vista.”

He drove away from the booth and joined the flow of traffic leaving the airport. He drove confidently, neither too fast nor too slow. Karen raised up enough to watch him between the seats.

A sound like a muffled drum suddenly echoed through the car. She thought Hickey had switched on the radio, but he hadn’t. The woman in the trunk was beating on the backseat.

“I’m glad she didn’t start that shit while we were at the booth,” Hickey said.

“Help!” screamed the muted voice. “I can’t breathe! Please let me out!”

Karen shut her eyes and prayed for the woman to be quiet. If she kept screaming, Hickey was liable to pull over and shoot her. The speed and intensity of his acts in her driveway and in the garage had sickened Karen. As a nurse, she had seen the effects of violence, but never the acts that produced the damage. Real violence was so unlike what she’d seen in movies that it was hard to grasp. Slashing Hickey’s thigh had been a reflex, an act of self-preservation. But he acted with a merciless dispatch that made her feel worse about the whole human race. The realization of what she had avoided by stabbing Hickey suddenly came home to her with searing clarity. Those other mothers had actually been raped by the man, had suffered the horror of becoming sexual whipping posts for all his repressed anger and resentment. And they had endured that horror for twenty-four hours. It was unimaginable.

The knocking behind Karen went on, but the cries decreased in intensity until they became a keening wail, like that of a small child.

“Traffic update!” Hickey cried.

“What?”

“I thought you might like to know, that helicopter ’s still hovering over the airport, three miles back. Amateurs, baby. Amateurs.”

“Are we going to get Abby now?”

He laughed. “We’re going somewhere, June Cleaver. That’s one thing you can count on. We got an appointment with destiny!”