“What you must now do is anticipate that moment when I have you. What I’m offering is death. Not immediate. But considerably faster than it is currently scheduled to arrive, in light of the offense you’ve both given me.”
Kalyn said, “Hello?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, you faded out there for about fifteen seconds. Look, I’ll make this very easy. Our concern is Jonathan. Have you warned him we’re coming?”
Three seconds of dead air, then: “No.”
“That’s good, Javier. As you know, our meeting with him is set for tonight. We’ll handle the finessing of why you couldn’t be there, but I just need to make something clear. You listening?”
“I am.”
“If it goes well, if it’s obvious Jonathan has not been forewarned, someone will call you tomorrow, tell you where you can find your family.”
“That’s unacceptable.”
Kalyn pulled the BlackBerry back from her face, pressed END, set the device on the table.
“What are you doing?” Will said.
“Let him sweat. What do we stand to lose? Our meeting. What does he stand to—” The BlackBerry buzzed. Kalyn pressed TALK, said, “I don’t know what third-grade textbook you learned your negotiation skills from, but you aren’t in any spot to say what is and is not acceptable. We’ll call you back on this number tomorrow if it goes well with Jonathan. If it doesn’t, you’ll never hear from us again, and your wife and son will die of thirst within the next few days.”
He made no reply, though Will could hear him breathing.
“Acknowledge that you heard me, Javier.”
“I heard you.”
Kalyn pressed END.
“We have to change the meeting place,” Will said. “I’m not cool with Javier knowing where we’ll be. He may not warn Jonathan, but I could see him coming after us.”
“All right. I’ll text Jonathan, ask him to pick another spot.”
I-84 west through Idaho. Twin Falls. Gooding. Mountain Home. When they were within the Boise city limits, Kalyn spotted a shopping mall from the interstate, made the exit just in time.
It was midafternoon, and they rode under a brilliant autumn sky, leaves peaking, deep reds and blinding yellows along the riverbanks, the brown hills that rose up behind the skyline dusted with snow.
“Let’s shop,” Kalyn said, pulling into a parking space in front of the sprawling mall.
“For who?” Will asked.
Kalyn glanced back from the driver seat. “You. Look at yourself.”
Will glanced down at his two-day-old clothes—ancient pair of jeans, tennis shoes, faded flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“She’s right, Dad,” Devlin said. “You need a serious makeover.”
“This is a style.”
Kalyn laughed. “What’s it called?”
“Colorado living. Outdoor man. You could chop some serious firewood in this getup.”
“That’s a selling point?”
“You’re telling me women don’t like the chiseled, frontier man look?”
“Yeah, well, you need a new outfit for tonight. We’re not out to impress the ladies, Will. We’re trying to pass you off for an Alpha.”
The mall was dead. They ate a late lunch in the food court, spread out on a bench beside a fountain whose bottom lay covered in green pennies and the occasional nickel.
As they rose to leave, the BlackBerry registered a new message.
Kalyn pulled it out of her purse, scanned the screen, sighed with relief. She said, “He wrote back, ‘Exit 64. Café at Big Al’s. OK.’ ”
Kalyn and Devlin were leading Will through the men’s section of the Gap.
“So what look are we like going for?” Devlin asked.
TWENTY-FOUR
They sprang for one room in a motel across from Big Al’s Truck Stop, caught a few winks on the pair of queen-size beds, figuring they had no way of knowing when they might have a chance to sleep again. When Will woke up, it was already dark outside and Kalyn was sitting on her bed, hunched over a laptop, the small black plastic case she’d borrowed from her PI friend in Sun City open beside her.
“What time is it?” Will whispered.
“We’ve got two hours.”
“God, it’s almost nine?” He slipped out of bed and pulled the covers back over Devlin, sighed against the first gut-prickling announcement of nerves.