Killer Summer

84

Deputy Stratum did not prevent Fiona from entering the interview room as Fiona had expected she would. Positioning herself behind the video camera, Fiona decided to record the second interview as a pretense for being in the room. She wasn’t going to miss this.

Teddy Sumner had aged in the past hour. Bags had formed under his eyes-the man had been crying-and a gray pallor had replaced the tanning-bed bronze. He reminded her of a piece of fruit ripened too long and left on the countertop.

She didn’t want to feel sorry for him, didn’t understand how she could. But his remorse had a contagious quality: it begged to be shared, as if others’ pity might lighten his load.

“The insurance company received a call,” Stratum told him.

“And…?”

“They gave them forty-eight hours to make a wire transfer of eight million dollars to a bank account-”

“In Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan.” Sumner nodded. “Well, at least they’re sticking with the plan.”

“Not exactly,” Stratum said. “At least, not the plan you detailed for us. You were right about the GPS coordinates. If the money arrives on time, the coordinates will be sent. But there was mention of ‘a package.’ ” Stratum drew quotation marks in the air. “They said it will be returned when the deposit is confirmed.”

“Summer.” It came out as a moan. “Oh… dear… God…”

“Can you reach him… Cantell?”

“I tried before, remember? He didn’t pick up.”

“We’d like you to try again.”

“I’ll do anything, of course. But I don’t see what good-”

“If he answers the satellite phone, we’ll get a GPS fix,” Stratum explained.

Sumner’s sagging head snapped to attention. His eyes widened with hope.

“Where’s the phone?” he asked.

“It has to be yours,” she said, “in case of caller ID.” She slid his BlackBerry across to him. “We’d like it on speakerphone, please. Take the position that the ransom call has come in and you’ve been told it’s going to be paid.”

Sumner held the BlackBerry in his hand, briefly looking at it as if he’d never seen it before.

“God, what a mess,” he mumbled.

He looked up a number on the device.

“This wasn’t part of the agreement… a call from me. The idea was, no contact.”

“You’re concerned about your daughter, plans have changed. Be strong with him. Remind him you’re holding a card nearly as strong as his. If you turn yourself in to the police, there’ll be no money.”

“But why would I do that? That puts Summer in the middle.”

“She’s already in the middle. If you can negotiate her release ahead of the ransom, maybe they’ll take it. It’s all we’ve got.”

In Fiona’s opinion, Sumner wasn’t up to it.

But he punched in the number and hit the green button.