Dirty Power (7 page)

“Did you see anything interesting?” Christopher asked.

“No. And I’m bored of surveillance. I can’t sit in a damn car anymore. Even sitting on the beach is boring,” Ryan said.

“We’re all tired of it, Ryan,” Reese said.

“My ass hurts from all that sitting,” he whined.

“Did you get a decent layout of the house?” I asked.

“I drew you a picture didn’t I?” Ryan pointed at the sketch on the table.

We all leaned in to look. Again. It didn’t make any more sense this time than when I’d first seen it.

“What is foodage?” Breno pointed at one of the childish squares. There was an arrow pointing at it labeled foodage.

“The kitchen. Obviously,” Ryan said.

“And this?” Christopher pointed at another section of the drawing.

“A balcony,” Ryan explained.

“What about this section, with all of the arrows and lightning bolts?” Breno asked.

“That’s where the alarm panel is,” Ryan said.

“Wait. What?” I asked. “You can see the alarm panel? We’re in. We just need to watch and get the code.”

“No, dude. You can’t see the keypad. What kind of shitty security company would install it facing a window?” He had a point. “That’s why there are sad faces. See?”

“Oh, yes. It all makes perfect sense now,” Reese said in a voice that implied that it did not make sense.

“Fuck you.” Ryan pushed away from the table. “I went out there and crawled on top of a fucking lifeguard tower and watched those windows for hours. It was hard. And it was dark. And it took forever. But I made you the damn drawing and I waited until I figured out all the important shit and I totally hit my balls climbing down and it hurt like fucking hell. So just fuck you.”

With that, he started pacing. I’d never seen Ryan pace.

Reese and I watched him, stunned. Christopher studied the drawing some more. Breno didn’t seem to know what to make of his strange son.

“I see the sad faces now. And this must be the little girl’s room.” Christopher pointed. “The one that says sleepy time and has a teddy bear.” Ryan didn’t respond to the indulgence so Christopher went on. “Oh, and these are all windows. The squares with the sunglasses drawn in them. The ladder here.” He pointed. “This is a ladder, right?” Ryan glanced over and nodded. “That must be a place where we can climb up.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like she just has a ladder chillin’ there. That would make it too easy.” Ryan stopped his pacing.

“Okay, so how will we get in?” Reese asked.

“Climb through the window,” I said.

“But there’s an alarm,” she pointed out.

“We go in when she doesn’t have the alarm set,” I said.

“When the hell will that be?” Reese wanted to know.

“She sets it when she leaves,” Ryan said. “And once she’s inside, she resets it. So I think it’s pretty much always on.”

“What about when she answers the door?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Ryan shrugged. “I don’t think she did that when I was there.”

I thought about that. I definitely had a plan. It was a gamble partly. But mostly, I thought it was solid.

“Will she recognize Breno?” I asked.

“What? Why?” Christopher asked.

“Will she?”

“She’s never met him. But she’s seen pictures of the twins. So she might make the connection,” Christopher said.

“I have a plan,” I said.

I watched the waves break against the shore in front of me. Just another lonely kid watching the waves in the moonlight. My sweatshirt hood was pulled up against the evening chill. It also conveniently hid the earbud I was wearing.

“Everyone in place?” Breno’s voice came over the line.

“Ready to go,” I said.

“Street is clear.” Ryan.

“Beach is empty and neighbors on the south are watching a movie. Lights are out in the house to the north.” I could see Reese in my peripheral vision. She was leaning against a lifeguard tower down the beach.

“Both houses are dark on the street,” Ryan said.

“Getaway car is ready.” Christopher had the getaway car. We didn’t need it. Probably. But plan B was to run like hell.

“Where’s Joan?” I asked.

“Kitchen,” Reese said. “If you go now she’ll see you.”

“I’m going to start walking,” I said.

I stood and turned south toward Joan’s house. I kept to the shoreline. There was sand in my Chucks. It was annoying as hell. I could feel the small grains working their way into my socks, between my toes, shifting with every step I took.

“You can veer closer to the neighbor’s house. Stop before you hit Joan’s outdoor lights,” Reese said.

“Gotcha.”

I waited at the edge of the low picket fence. The wooden slats looked flimsy, but I knew they were sturdy. I’d tested them.

“Breno. Go now,” Reese said.

“I am walking up to her door,” Breno said.

I hear a distant doorbell from inside the house.

“Go, Coop. She just left the kitchen,” Reese said.

I climbed the fence and balanced on it for a moment before reaching up. This was going to work in theory. But we were relying on my upper body strength. Maybe we should have thought it through more. Maybe I should have thought it through more. No one knew exactly what I was planning. I hadn’t told them. And by the time they figured it out, it would be too late.

I grabbed the edge of the balcony above my head. Took a deep breath. Jumped and hauled myself up. I braced my foot against the side of the house. I felt a sharp pull in my bicep. Fucking stitches. Somehow, I was able to climb until I was standing on the edge of the balcony. After that, it was easy to get over the railing.

Breno’s voice came over the line as Joan answered the door. I yanked the earbud out and let it dangle against my chest. Hopefully, he would be able to distract her for a minute. I opened the sliding glass door and walked into Joan’s bedroom. In the near darkness, I skirted the edge of her bed and slid into the hallway. The next door was open. I could hear voices downstairs. Breno’s sounded friendly. Joan’s was cautious.

I went through the open door. Joan’s daughter was sleeping on her back. One tiny hand was curled into her hair; the other was stretched out across the small crib. I leaned over and picked up the sleeping child. She made a small noise and burrowed into my shoulder. Weird. Downstairs, the door closed. Damn. There were footsteps on the stairs. I stepped out into the hallway as Joan reached the top. She gasped. I shook my head.

“Be quiet now,” I said softly. “She’s sleeping. Wouldn’t want to wake her.”

“Please.”

“Let’s just use our calm voices. Kids are so receptive to tone, you know what I mean?” I asked.

“Just please. Don’t hurt her.” Joan reached out and took an unconscious step forward.

“Stop.” I reached under my sweatshirt and pulled a gun from my waistband. The silencer caught on my jeans for a second, but then it was free. “I don’t want to use this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Oh, God.” Joan began to sob. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“If I have to hurt her, I’ll probably kill you too. So you won’t get a chance to kill me.” I smiled. “Let’s just avoid killing altogether. Maiming too. I hate maiming. It gets so bloody.” I kept my tone even and soft. It made me sound like Esau. It made me want to hurl.

“Is this about the money?” she asked. “I’ll give it back. I’m sorry. Just, please, don’t hurt her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Then give her to me.” Joan stretched her arms out.

“No. Go back downstairs. Turn off the alarm,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because you have company.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“You will. Let’s go.” I nodded at the stairs.

Joan turned and slowly descended. I followed her to the kitchen, watched her input the alarm code.

“Now what?” she asked.

In response, I lifted the earbud and put it back in my ear. It was hard with the gun in my hand, but I couldn’t exactly let go of the kid or the gun. I needed reinforcements.

“We’re clear. Come in, guys,” I said.

“You’re in?” Reese asked. “That was fast.”

“Bro.” Ryan.

“The front door is locked,” Breno said.

“Go unlock the front door,” I told Joan.

“Should I come in?” Christopher asked.

“Not yet,” I said. There were still a hundred ways this could get fucked up. I didn’t want Joan to know how many people were involved. Plus, a getaway car was always a good thing.

Joan went back through the house to the front door. When she opened it, Breno and Ryan were waiting on the doorstep. When she saw them together, she gasped as she made the connection.

“Hey, Coop.” Ryan waved.

I laughed at him. So excited to not be sitting and waiting. He was going to be disappointed when he figured out we had a lot more sitting and waiting to do.

“Go let Reese in,” I told him. “The kitchen door needs to be unlocked.” He nodded and walked past me.

“How many of you are there?” Joan asked.

“Enough,” I said.

“Take whatever you want and get the hell out.”

“Happy to,” I said.

“Hurry up. I want my daughter back,” she said.

Reese and Ryan came in just in time to hear her last comment. Reese inhaled sharply. Ryan tilted his head and looked at me weird. Breno just stared.

“Breno, take Joan and tie her up somewhere. The bathroom upstairs doesn’t have windows. That will probably be the best.”

“All right.”

“No. I’m not leaving Emma with you.” Joan took a step away from Breno.

“Yes, you are. She’s sleeping. She’ll be fine. And you don’t really have a choice.” I held up the gun.

“Damn you.” Joan clenched her teeth and turned to Breno.

“Here.” Ryan handed Breno the small duffle he was carrying.

“Thanks.” Breno cupped Joan’s elbow and started to guide her up the stairs.

“And make sure you search her,” I said.

Breno paused and patted her down. She was carrying a cell phone. He pocketed it. They continued up the stairs.

We heard the door upstairs close. Reese turned to me. She looked livid.

“Careful,” I said. “Don’t wanna wake the kid up.”

“You’re fucking psychotic,” she whispered.

“Are you holding the kid hostage?” Ryan asked.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said.

“But you kidnapped a toddler!” Reese was still whispering, but she may as well have been screaming.

“That’s kinda fucked,” Ryan said.

“But I’m not going to hurt her.” I searched for an argument to defend myself, but came up empty. “I threatened her, that’s all. Joan’s a mom. She’s not going to risk anything. It’s simple and quiet and fast.” I tucked the gun back into my waistband so I could switch the kid to my other side. My arm was getting tired.

“You’re fucking psychotic,” Reese said again.

I shrugged.

Breno joined us again. “That may not have been wise.”

“It’s not like you had any better ideas,” Ryan said. Oh, now he was on my side.

“I am only suggesting that there may have been other ways. That said—”

“Back off; Ryan’s right.” Reese cut in. Now she was defending me?

“I was trying to say that it is quite smart,” Breno said. “Even if there were better ways. This is expedient.”

“Oh, great.” Reese glared and walked away. No wonder I couldn’t keep up with Reese’s moods. She couldn’t even keep up with them.

“Should we follow her?” Breno asked.

“No,” I said.

“We need to figure out where she stashed the gold,” Ryan said. “Speed this shit up.”

“Totally.”

“Shall I interrogate her?” Breno asked.

“Yeah, in a sec.” I transferred the kid back to my other side. How did people carry these things around all the time? “Can we sit down or something? This kid is heavy.”

“I’ll take her.” Ryan held out his arms.

“You’re not gonna give her back are you?” I asked. I thought the question was justified. I’d worked really hard to take her hostage. I couldn’t let their collective skepticism ruin it.

“Come on. I’m not stupid.”

“Just checking.” I handed her to Ryan.

“We can put her back in bed. As long as somebody is guarding her,” Breno said.

“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” I said.

“On it.” Ryan went up the stairs.

“You have a gun, right?” I asked his retreating back. In response, he lifted the tail of his shirt. A handgun was tucked in his waistband.

“Shall we find out where our money is?” Breno asked.

“After you.” I indicated the stairs.

Joan was chained to the toilet. She looked pissed. When I opened the door and slid inside, she stopped struggling against the chains.

“Where is the gold?” Breno asked.

“Gone.”

“Gone where?” I asked.

“I sold it.”

“Then where’s the money?” I asked.

“The remainder is in an account.” Joan’s eyes darted between me, Breno, and the door. Once, she shot a look at the skylight. It was high. I wasn’t worried.

“The remainder?” Breno.

“I bought a house, a car, food, toys. Paid utilities and insurance. I have an eighteen-month-old. Life adds up.” She shrugged. Her chains rattled.

“You’re lying.” I opened the door and Breno and I walked out. When we were out of hearing distance, Breno turned to me.

“How do you know she is lying?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why—”

“Chances are good that she is. Plus, this will make her sweat. We’ll go back in a couple hours.” I shrugged.

He nodded. “All right, then. We will go back in a couple hours.”

*

“How is Emma?” Was the first thing Joan said when Breno and I returned.

“Fine. She’s still sleeping,” I said.

“Let me see her.”

“No.” I wasn’t going to give up my bargaining chip that easy.

“Please.”

“No. The faster we do this, the faster you see her,” I said.

“Okay. Unchain me.”

“No.” I perched on the edge of the counter and stared at her.

“What?”

“Are you prepared to tell us the truth this time?” Breno asked.

“Yes, fine. Just leave Emma and me alone.”

“Where is the money?” I asked.

“In an account.”

“I have heard this before.” Breno had his daughter’s uncanny ability to look utterly bored.

“Fine. In multiple accounts.”

“Good. You can transfer them to us,” I said.

“I will. Let me go.”

“No. Tell us about the accounts,” Breno said.

“There are three. They are based in the Cayman Islands. But it will take days to transfer the money.”

“Why?” I knew why. I just wanted her to talk more.

“Because you can’t simply close out accounts like that.”

“Interesting. How much is in each account?” Breno asked.

“I don’t know. I would need to look it up online.”

“Roughly.” Me.

“There is about ten million in one. The other two have a few million.”

“Just those three accounts?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You have a debit card linked to an account in the Caymans with a few million in it?” I let my disbelief bleed into my tone.

“What? No. I don’t—”

“You used a debit card at the grocery store. And in that small coffee shop,” I said.

“You also used it when you bought clothing two days ago. And when you bought—is it Emma?” Joan nodded. “Yes, when you purchased books for Emma yesterday,” Breno said.

“What? How long have you been watching me?”

I turned to Breno. “I think she’s still lying.”

“I agree.” He made it sound like the worst possible offense. Worse than kidnapping babies.

When we filed out and shut the door, Joan started screaming. Mostly about how perverse we were. Not a good thing for the neighbors to hear. I opened the door and stuck my head back in.

“If you scream, it will wake Emma up. And she will cry for her mother, but we won’t bring her to you. Do you want to listen to your kid crying?”

“You bastard.”

I shrugged and closed the door. Joan was silent.

*

It was nearly three in the morning when we returned to Joan. She was sleeping awkwardly with her head against the wall.

I nudged her leg with my foot. She jerked awake.

“You ready to tell the truth?” I asked.

“Why the hell should I?”

“So you can get your kid back.”

“Why? You won’t let us live. The longer I hold out, the better my chances are.”

“That is not entirely true.” Breno shook his head.

“He’s right. I don’t like killing people. Especially kids. That’s not cool,” I said.

“So let us go.”

“No. But if you play nice and transfer the money then we will let you and the kid go. We don’t want to hurt you. And we’re not afraid that you’ll come after us. So there’s no harm in letting you live. All you have to do is give us the money. We will go quietly away and you get to live. Win-win,” I said.

“And if I don’t?”

I sighed. “Lose-lose.”

“What will you do?”

“We will kill you and Emma and dump your bodies in the Gulf of Mexico,” Breno said.

“Thankfully, you have a boat,” I said.

“All right. Fine. I’ll walk you through all of the accounts.”

“Good.” Breno opened Joan’s handcuffs.

“Can I see Emma first?”

“No,” I said.

“I need proof that she is alive before I give you anything.”

“Whatever.” I grabbed Joan, pulled her tight against me, and put my gun to her thigh. “You make a sound and walking is going to be painful. You understand?”