Daniels placed him under arrest and read him his rights. When he asked her to play the CDs on his laptop, she tuned him out. It was a classic case of tunnel vision. She thought he was a pervert, and nothing he said was going to change her mind.
She got a knife from the kitchen and cut him free from the chair. With his wrists still handcuffed behind his back, he stood up. One of his legs had gone to sleep, and he shook it awake. She took it as a hostile action and drew her gun and aimed it at him.
“Don’t do that again,” she said.
“You think I’m going to jump you?” he said.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“But I’m handcuffed.”
“Trapped animals will try anything.”
“Am I an animal?”
“You most certainly are.”
The breath caught in his throat. Daniels wanted to shoot him. She had decided he was a monster and was looking for a reason to pump a bullet through his heart. If he made another sudden move that she deemed a threat, his life was over.
“I’m not a monster. Call Melanie. She’ll tell you.”
“Melanie?” she said, not understanding.
“Yes, Melanie Pearl, your sister. Call her.”
“I don’t have her number.”
“How can you not have your sister’s number?”
“My sister lives in Dubai. We haven’t spoken in years,” she said.
Daniels didn’t know that her sister had returned to the United States and was living in Fort Lauderdale. He was not going to pass judgment on her about this. He had a brother he hadn’t spoken to in years, so he knew how torturous family relations could be.
“I hate to be the messenger, but your sister and her family left Dubai three months ago and resettled in Fort Lauderdale,” he said. “Your brother-in-law now runs the neurology department of a local hospital. They’re my clients. I was looking through your niece Nicki’s laptop computer and saw a photograph of you wearing an FBI windbreaker. That’s why I contacted you.”
Confusion spread across her face. “What the hell are you talking about? Why did my sister hire you? What’s happened to her?”
“I’ll tell you, but first stop pointing that gun at me.”
“I don’t think so.”
He slowly sank into the chair. “How about now? I can’t attack you sitting down.”
Daniels considered it, then decided he wasn’t a threat and put her gun away. She picked up the two cell phones off the dining room table. “Which one is yours?”
“The blue one,” he said. “Your brother-in-law’s number is in my contacts. Tell him that you’re with me, and that I asked him to text me a photograph of Nicki.”
“Why should he do that?”
“Because then you’ll understand why I contacted you.”
“You better not be playing games with me.”
“I’m not. Call him.”
Daniels made the call and placed the phone to her ear. She hadn’t seen her niece in over five years. That was a long time when a kid was growing up. She was going to be surprised in the change in Nicki, and not in a pleasant way.
Nolan Pearl answered the call. Lancaster could faintly hear his voice.
“Nolan, this is your sister-in-law, Beth,” Daniels said without emotion. “I’m here with a man named Jon Lancaster who claims to be a private investigator. Lancaster says you hired him to do a job. Is that true?”
“Hello, Beth. What a surprise. It’s been too long,” Pearl said without emotion. “Yes, we did hire Lancaster. Are you here in Fort Lauderdale?”
“Yes, I am. I arrived a few hours ago,” she said. “Lancaster tells me that you and Melanie moved back three months ago.”
“We did.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“That was Melanie’s decision, Beth, not mine.”
“She won’t bury the hatchet, will she?”
“You said some horrible things to her.”
“Ask him to send you a photograph of Nicki,” Lancaster said.
Daniels put the phone against her chest. “Shut your mouth.”
“Just do it, will you? I’m getting sick of these handcuffs.”
“You think I’m going to take them off?”
“Yes, and then you’re going to apologize to me.”
The comment rattled her, and she resumed talking to her brother-in-law. “You still should have let me know you were here. Let me tell you why I called. Lancaster wants you to take a photograph of Nicki, and text it to his cell phone. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course, Beth. Are we going to see you while you’re in town?”
“If I have the time, yes.”
“I’m sure Nicki will be thrilled. Give me a minute to send you the photo. It’s been nice talking to you. It’s been too long.”
“Yes, it has.”
Daniels ended the call. Her eyes found Lancaster’s face, and they stared at each other for a long moment. They both knew she had made a mistake. But she wasn’t going to admit it just yet. It was part of her training. The FBI taught its agents to create theories when conducting investigations, and to shoehorn the evidence they found to make those theories work. That worked most of the time. When it didn’t, innocent people often ended up getting hurt.
His cell phone vibrated in her hand. She fumbled opening the Message app.
“It’s from Nolan,” she said.
“Brace yourself for a surprise,” he said.
She opened her brother-in-law’s message and stared at the screen. Her other hand came to her mouth and stayed there.
“Oh my God, is that Nicki?” she said in shock.
“It sure is,” he said. “Your niece looks just like Cassandra.” He let a moment pass, then said, “Do you have any idea how much harm you’ve caused her?”
She kept staring at the screen. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?”
“Well, since you don’t believe a word that I say, why don’t you call your sister and let her explain the situation to you?”
She moved toward his chair. She still hadn’t made a move to free him, and he sensed that she was taking a perverse pleasure in keeping him prisoner.
“I want you to tell me what’s going on,” she said.
“Call your sister,” he said.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“No. Call Melanie. I’m sure she’d enjoy getting caught up.”
She snarled at him like a junkyard dog. Moving to the couch, she sat down and made the call. Soon she was engaged in conversation with her sister. The pleasantries were short and awkward. She grew silent as Melanie told her about Nicki’s stalkers and the attempted abductions. Her eyes grew moist, and tears raced down her cheeks.
“This is terrible. I’m so sorry, Mel,” she said.
They continued to talk. He rose from his chair and entered the kitchen. Silverware and canned goods covered the floor, and it looked like a tornado had hit it. He cleared a space with his feet and leaned his back against a wall. As a kid he’d read a book about Houdini that had included explanations of how the famous escape artist had gotten out of handcuffs without using a key, and he decided to give it a shot. He lowered his handcuffed wrists as far as he could. Kicking off his right shoe, he lifted his right leg, and slipped his foot through the circle created by his arms, all the while hopping on his left leg to stay balanced. It worked, and he repeated the exercise with his left leg.
His wrists were now in front of his body. His arms had started to cramp, and he shook them to make the pain go away. Then he went in search of a ballpoint pen. He found one in a cup beside the fridge and unscrewed it and removed the cartridge. Houdini could open a handcuff with a paper clip, so Lancaster had to believe it wasn’t terribly hard. He jammed the cartridge in the tiny space between the ratchet and locking mechanism and, finding a soft spot, pressed it hard. The handcuff came free. He repeated this with the other wrist and again achieved success.
He smelled coffee. The pot was still on. He could be a bastard with Daniels, or he could be nice and pretend like nothing had happened. The second approach was more to his liking, and would give them a fresh start. He poured two mugs and grabbed the sweetener and returned to the living room.
Daniels was still on the phone with her sister. Melanie was doing all the talking, while Daniels listened and wiped away her tears. He placed a mug and sweetener on the coffee table, followed by the handcuffs. Her eyes registered surprise.
“I was wrong,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you tell her about the Cassandra videos?” he whispered back.
She shook her head.
“You have to,” he whispered.
“I don’t know how,” she whispered back.