The text read:
TO SFPD INSPECTOR MAUEL:
WE HAVE KIDNAPPED ASHLEY LYON. AS PROOF, HER HUSBAND CAN IDENTIFY THIS BEAR AS THE ONE ASHLEY HAD THIS MORNING. OUR HOSTAGE IS ALIVE AND SAFE
FOR NOW.
SHE WILL STAY THAT WAY, IF YOU GIVE US PATRICK AND DON’T TRY ANY CUTE COP GAMES.
SO, DON’T BE STUPID!
DON’T TRY TO HIDE A GPS TRANMITTER INSIDE PATRICK, BECAUSE WE WILL FIND IT AND ASHLEY WILL DIE! NO HELICOPTERS OR SURVEILLANCE CARS. WE WILL SEE THEM AND ASHLEY WILL DIE. I WILL CALL YOUR OFFICE TELEPHONE THIS AFTERNOON WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. WHEN I DO, JUST SHUT
UP
AND LISTEN. WE ARE IN CONTROL.
“ ‘We are in control.’ I’ll bet that arrogant little wimp had to get his mommy’s permission before writing that,” I said, handing the letter to Gregg. “And now I realize why I didn’t see Lauren’s Outback this morning. It must have been in the garage.”
“They had to get Ash into the car without the neighbors seeing.”
“Exactly. This also explains why Lycaon suddenly withdrew all the criminal charges they’d filed against Kyle.”
Gregg nodded. “He’s offered to sell Patrick back to them.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet it was his mom’s idea.” I slapped my cane against my palm. “Lauren has been behind the scenes like a freaking puppet-master from the very beginning and I never even suspected. And then I delivered Ash to the killer’s house and drove away.”
“She fooled all of us, Brad. But we’re going to get Ash back safely. I promise you.”
Aafedt trotted up. “We have units en route Code Three. Is that . . . ?”
Gregg held up the letter. “Yeah, it’s a demand note from Kyle. They want the robot as ransom.”
“The uniforms aren’t going to find anyone at the house,” I said. “Lauren has had five hours to move Ash. They could be anywhere by now.”
“Danny, I need you to roll out to Lauren Vandenbosch’s house right now and personally supervise processing the crime scene,” said Gregg. “Job number one is locating her credit card and ATM card numbers—”
“I’ll issue an alert on them in the credit data systems.”
“Precisely. If she uses them, I want to know when and where.”
“I’m on it.” Aafedt turned and headed for the door that led toward the police parking lot.
Gregg grabbed Shannon Shoofly Pie. “Now, we’d better get up to my office. There’s no telling when that bastard is going to call and I have to start letting the bosses know that we have a hostage crisis on our hands.”
I sighed, “And I have to figure out some way to tell Heather and Chris that their mom has been kidnapped . . . and it’s my fault.”
We went back upstairs to the homicide bureau, and as we entered Gregg’s office, his desk phone rang. He grabbed the receiver but after a moment or two of conversation wore a look of disappointment.
Hanging up, he said glumly, “That was dispatch. The patrol units are at Lauren’s house. The Outback is gone and there’s nobody there.”
“I didn’t think there would be.”
“There’s also no sign of a struggle.”
“
That
, I wasn’t expecting. The place should be in shambles, because Ash would have fought them tooth and nail.”
“The officer said it looked like they were having coffee. Maybe she was drugged. I’ll call Danny right now and make sure he collects the cups and looks for signs of any pharmaceuticals. GHB is pretty easily available on the streets,” said Gregg. He was referring to Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, a chemical compound famous as a “date rape” drug.
“GHB tastes too salty. Ash would have noticed it. More likely it was Rohypnol,” I replied, naming another popular sedative used by sexual predators. “And I can’t dodge this any longer. I’ve got to call Heather.” I sat down at my old desk and stared at the cell phone in my hand for almost a minute before I could work up the courage to press my daughter’s wireless number.
Heather answered on the first ring. “I love caller ID. Hello, Mama!”
It suddenly felt as if my heart was being torn from my chest by a giant pair of pliers. I managed to rasp, “Actually, it’s your dad, honey. I . . .”
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
“We just found out that your mother was kidnapped this morning and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry,” I blurted out.
“What? How?”
“Lauren Vandenbosch was the one wearing the ski mask. She killed Uhlander.”
“And, oh my God, Mama was supposed to spend the day with Lauren. Did you . . . ?”
“Yes. Yes, honey, I dropped her off this morning and then went to play the brilliant detective while my wife was being abducted. We don’t know where your mom is . . . or . . .”
“She’s alive. I know she’s alive, Daddy. Have they made contact with you yet?”
“Yes. They dropped off a demand note about an hour ago. The Vandenbosches want the robot, or they say they’re going to . . . kill your mom.” I took a deep breath. “God, how do I tell Chris? How do I tell him that I caused this?”
“Daddy, you are not responsible for what happened,” Heather said sternly. “And don’t worry about telling Chris. I’ll call him on our way in to the station.”
I glanced over at Gregg, who was on the phone and rapidly jotting down notes on a yellow legal pad. “I have the feeling Gregg’s office is about to become a kidnapping operation command post. The suits might not let line-level troops like you in.”
“I’d like to see them try and stop us. You hang on, Daddy. Colin and I will be there in less than a half hour.”
As I disconnected from the call, I heard that Gregg was no longer talking to Aafedt. He said in an aggravated voice, “Look, Captain, why don’t you come on down here and personally explain to Brad Lyon why you won’t release the evidence. I’m certain he’d love to hear all about your policies and procedures. Oh, that’s
not
what you’re saying? Then send someone down here
right now
with that freaking robot!” Gregg slammed the receiver down and then hurled the notepad across the office. “I swear to God, there must be some requirement that you have a full frontal lobotomy before they give you captain’s bars.”
I pushed myself from the chair to retrieve the notepad. “Has the department decided to pay the ransom?”
“Screw the department. I made the decision and it’s a no-brainer. We give them the robot and get Ash back. If we lose the opportunity to prosecute Ma Barker and her ego-maniacal son, then so be it.”
“Thanks, partner.” I handed him the notepad.
“You’re welcome. How did Heather take the news?”
“Obviously, she’s scared, but it also sounds as if she’s ready to kick some ass.”
“Imagine that. A member of the Lyon family spoiling for a fight? Who’d a thunk it?”
I smiled for the first time since watching the video in the crime lab. “She and Colin are on their way up here.”
“They’d be calling him in anyway. I’ve requested SWAT and the hostage negotiation team,” said Gregg. “Oh, and I also got ahold of Lieutenant Garza. She’s en route back here, Code Three. She told me to tell you that everything is going to be all right.”
“I hope so. I—”
The office door opened and Nguyen came in, carrying Patrick in both hands. The cyber criminalist carefully stood the robot on Gregg’s desk, next to Shannon Shoofly Pie. Then Nguyen looked at me. “Mr. Lyon, I heard what happened and I’m so sorry. We’ll all be praying for your wife.”
I barely nodded in response. It was a kindly sentiment, but also an unintentional reminder of how often I’d seen such prayers go unanswered. Apparently, my expression betrayed that bleak thought. Thinking that she’d somehow said the wrong thing, Nguyen mumbled an apology and slipped from the office.
Not long after that, Gregg’s office started to fill up with detectives and uniformed cops. Gregg began handing out assignments. Then the SWAT commander arrived, dressed in his black military fatigues and baseball cap. He advised Gregg that his unit would be ready to roll in less than ten minutes. Meanwhile, I sat there feeling useless.
Then Heather and Colin arrived and joined me at my old desk.
I asked, “Did you talk to Chris?”
“Yes, and he’s trying to get a flight out from St. Louis tonight. He’ll call me when he knows,” said Heather.
“How’d he take the news?”
“He’s scared, but he knows you’ll get Mama back safe.”
My daughter rubbed my arm and that was almost enough to shatter my thin veneer of stoicism. Ash did the same thing to me when I was agitated. Gregg’s phone continued to ring and the room went silent with anticipation each time he snatched up the receiver. Then we’d relax when we saw that it wasn’t Kyle calling.
Suddenly, the phone in front of me rang. Without thinking, I answered it, saying, “Robbery-Homicide, Inspector Lyon.”
“Brad, it’s Danny. I’m calling on this line to keep Gregg’s clear.”
“You’re apparently the only one that’s thought of that,” I replied as Gregg’s phone rang again.
“Has he called?”
“Not yet. Do you have anything?”
“I don’t know. Maybe motive. I’m going through Lauren’s financial paperwork right now and, for starters, we don’t need to waste our time requesting a locate order on her credit cards. She can’t use them and she knows it.”
“Why?”
“Lauren has maxed every one of her cards to the limit, and then some.” I heard the rustle of paperwork in the background and then Aafedt continued, “From what I can see, she owes at least thirty grand on the plastic alone.”
“Alone? There’s more?”
“I think the cards are just the tip of the iceberg. It looks as if she mortgaged herself to the hilt to put that little monster of hers through Stanford. And she hasn’t been repaying the loans. There are so many ‘final notice’ letters here, I’m beginning to think the Day of Judgment is at hand.” Aafedt suddenly realized that it was the wrong joke at the wrong time, and quickly added, “Jeez, Brad, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Is there anything else?”
“Yeah. There’s also a notice that her county property taxes are delinquent. Bottom line: It looks as if she was going to lose this house and soon.”
“And you collected the coffee cups?”
“It was the first thing we did and we’ve already rushed them to the lab. We’ll keep looking and I’ll call if we come up with anything else.”
“Thanks, Danny.” I disconnected from the call and brought Gregg up-to-date on what Aafedt had discovered.
Three o’clock passed, and then four o’clock came and went. I was becoming increasingly frightened that we weren’t going to hear from Kyle and knew that I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Gregg was staring at the phone as if willing it to ring and Heather paced the office, while practicing karate punches. Meanwhile, Colin sat by the side of my desk and was disassembling and then reassembling his forty-five automatic. Then, at 4:13 P.M., Gregg’s phone rang.
“Homicide Bureau, Inspector Mauel.” Gregg instantly reached over and pressed the button for the speakerphone so that we could all hear the call.
“—and listen, stupid!” It was Kyle and I could clearly hear the sound of traffic in the background. He was outside and possibly driving.
“Hello, Kyle.” Gregg almost sounded kindly.
“I said, shut up! I’m doing the talking!” There was more fear in Kyle’s voice than menace. “Have you got Patrick?”
“Right here on the desk in front of me. We’re ready to deal when you are.”
“Then let me tell you how this is going to happen. First, if I even think I see a cop, the lady dies.”
Heather’s jaw tightened and her hand drifted subconsciously to the pistol on her right hip. Meanwhile, I was replaying Kyle’s words in my head. There was something passive and almost ambiguous about how he’d phrased the threat. He didn’t say he’d kill Ash, only that she’d die. I couldn’t be certain, but perhaps that meant he wasn’t one-hundred-percent committed to the kidnapping.
Gregg said, “I understand. We will stay out of the area.”
“Next. I don’t want a cop delivering Patrick. Get someone else. Some regular person.”
“Kyle, we can’t just grab some civilian and tell them they have to deliver a ransom to an armed kidnapper.”
“Just do it!” Kyle snapped. “If you send a cop, I’ll go and you’ll never see that woman again.”
This time the phrasing was even more vague. It was clear to me that Kyle was trying to intellectually distance himself from both the crime and his victim.
“Okay. We’ll find someone,” Gregg said in a none-too-hopeful tone.
“And don’t try to put any homing devices in Patrick. I know that robot from top to bottom and I’ll find it.”
“We won’t do that. You made that very clear in your letter. May I ask you one thing?”
“What?”
“If we act in good faith and give you the robot, when do we get Ashleigh back?”
There was a long pause before Kyle replied: “I guess you’ve just got to trust us on that. Monster Park. Jamestown Avenue entrance at the gate. Five o’clock.”
Kyle hung up and then there was the hum of a dial tone. Monster Park was the current name of a fifty-year-old San Francisco landmark: Candlestick Park, a sports stadium that stood near the bay. Geographically, it was only about six miles south of the Hall of Justice, but with the rush hour traffic it could take a half hour or more to drive the distance.
Gregg turned the speakerphone off as an investigator burst into the office.
The detective said, “He was calling from a pay phone near the intersection of San Bruno Avenue and Mansell Street.”
Gregg grimaced. “So, he’s already in the area. If we start moving units into the neighborhood, he’ll see it.”
Colin snapped the magazine into his pistol. “And you’d better warn the Air Bureau to keep their choppers clear of the area.”
“I volunteer to deliver the robot,” said Heather.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Detective Lyon,” Gregg said gravely. “I said that we’d play the game according to Kyle’s rules and we will . . . for now.”
“But—”
I interrupted my daughter. “And even with the blue hair, you look way too much like your mom. Besides, I’m making the delivery.”
Twenty-four