The Last Templar

Chapter 39

Tess froze in her seat, a knot the size of a fist forming in her throat. He was there, in her very own house. With her mother. And—Kim?

She turned away from the car door, clasping the phone tightly.

"What are you—"

"I thought you'd be here already," he interjected calmly. "I didn't get the time wrong, did I? Your message said it was rather urgent."

Message? Tess's mind was racing. He's in my house and he's playing games. An anger swelled inside her. "If you hurt them, I swear—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, "it's not a problem. But I really can't stay too long. Much as I'd love to take up your lovely mother's invitation and have dinner with you all, I have to get back up to Connecticut. You said you had something for me. Something you wanted me to have a look at."

Of course. The papers. He wants his papers back. She realized he didn't want to cause her mom or Kim any distress. He was posing as a friend, and was acting accordingly. Her mother wouldn't know anything was wrong. Good. Let's keep it that way.

"Tess?" he asked with disturbing serenity. "Are you still there?"

"Yes. You want me to bring you the documents."

"That would be great."

Her mind flashed on her wallet, lying among the clutter on the floor of Vance's cellar, and she chided herself for not retrieving it. She looked out the car window nervously. Only the photographer was near, still taking pictures of the documents. Feeling a constriction in her chest, Tess took a deep breath and turned away from the photographer. "I'm on my way. Please, don't do anything—"

"Of course not," he chortled. "I'll wait for you, then. Is anyone else joining us?"

Tess frowned. "No."

"Perfect." He paused for a moment. Tess wondered what he was doing. "It'll be nice to spend some time and get to know them a bit better," he continued. "Kim is such a delightful little girl."

So she was there after all. That bastard. He lost his daughter, now he's threatening mine.

"I'll come alone, don't worry," Tess said firmly.

"Don't be long."

She heard the phone click off, and for a moment she continued to hold the cell phone to her ear, running through the conversation again, trying to come to terms with what was happening.

She had a huge decision to make. Do I tell Reilly? She knew the answer to that: of course. Anyone who'd ever watched a TV show knew that, regardless of whatever a kidnapper said, you called the cops. You always called the cops. But that was TV, and this was real life. This was about her family in the hands of a demolished man. Much as she wanted to tell Reilly, she didn't want to risk triggering some kind of hostage situation. Not given the state of mind Vance was in.

Grasping at straws, she tried to convince herself he wouldn't hurt them. He hadn't hurt her, had he?

He was even apologetic about what he'd done to her. But now, she had crossed him, and she had his documents, the ones that were crucial to his mission. The documents, as Reilly had rightly put it, that people had died for.

She couldn't risk it. Her family was in harm's way.

She sneaked another look at the photographer. He was done. Still holding the cell phone to her ear, she edged toward him. "Yes," she said loudly, into the dead line. "He's just finished photographing them." She nodded to the photographer, dredging up a smile. "Sure, I'll bring them right over," she continued. "You go ahead and start setting up the equipment."

Clicking the phone shut, she addressed the photographer. "Are you sure they'll come out?"

Her question surprised him. "I hope so. It's what I'm paid for."

She rolled up the papers as he reflexively moved away from them. "I've got to race these over to the lab." There was always a lab involved. She just hoped it sounded remotely credible. She glanced at the camera and added. "Reilly wants those shots developed fast. Can you do that for him?"

"Sure, it's not a problem—given that they're digital," he deadpanned.

Tess grimaced at her error as she walked as confidently as she could back to Reilly's car, resisting the urge to run. When she got to the driver's door, she glanced inside and saw that the key was still there, where she had seen Reilly leave it. She got in and flicked the ignition.

She scanned the faces at the scene, searching for Reilly, hoping not to see him. He wasn't around, nor was his partner. She nursed the car out of its double-parked spot and slowly navigated through the other sedans and police cars, inching forward, smiling sheepishly at the couple of officers who waved her through, hoping the sheer terror inside her wasn't breaking through to the surface.

Once she was clear, she pulled away, checking the rearview mirror, and, moments later, she was speeding up the street, headed for Westchester.