For Everything a Reason Page 22

  Marianna’s mouth opened and her body tensed noticeably. She almost reached up to snatch the handset from Joseph, but Tyler intervened at the last moment, dragging Marianna quickly away from the group.

  The line became a hiss of static.

  Then the caller’s voice returned, more confident now, full of control. “Big words for a big bear.”

  “Where is my son?” Joseph demanded.

  “Safe.”

  “Then give him back.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What?”

  “Little bear will be returned unharmed.”

  “When?”

  “Will call again tomorrow. Be ready.”

  Click.

  The agent slammed his hand against the desk. “Nothing,” he moaned. “This guy knows just how long to maintain a connection before chance of detection.”

  Joseph handed the handset over.

  Marianna broke away from Tyler and stepped forward to deliver a blow to Joseph’s face. The slap caught him off guard, and his head rocked back.

  “What were you doing?” she demanded.

  Joseph was stunned.

  Carter intervened. “Marianna, Joseph’s quick thinking just saved your son’s life.”

  “What? How?” she asked, tears slipping down her cheeks.

  Carter said, “He just confirmed he doesn’t know who the killer is.”

  “I – I don’t understand.”

  “By saying if he didn’t get Jake back, he’d find out who the killer was. Subterfuge, making the killer believe his identity remains a mystery.”

  Marianna’s hands rose to her face, covering her mouth, her mistake now apparent. She looked to Joseph and her face reddened with shame.

  “Oh – Joseph…” she whispered.

  Joseph stepped forward to take her in his arms. “Hey – I love you.”

  She stayed in his arms, drawing his strength now, tears slipping heavily from her eyes.

  “Please bring our boy back,” she sobbed.

  Joseph’s hands tightened into fists behind her back. “I will. Even if the Devil himself stands in my way, I’ll bring Jake home,” he vowed.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Only one person knelt in prayer, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. The rows of pews stretched out behind him, empty at this late hour. Candles burnt on the Alter in front of him, tiny glittering lights which danced as one synchronised group.

  Footsteps echoed hollowly.

  Joseph Ruebins looked up from his position. He turned to spot Detective Carter making his way between the rows of empty pews. Carter walked carefully, with measured steps, conscious of these sacred surroundings. What came out of his mouth was in complete contrast. “Joseph, what the hell are you doing?”

  Joseph turned back, glancing up at the figure of Christ before him. “Hoping God is listening,” he replied.

  “This is insane,” Carter reprimanded.

  “You not a religious man?” Joseph asked, his attention pinned to the face of Christ.

  “What?”

  “Am I mad for being here, looking for guidance?”

  “Yes,” Carter replied. Then he looked about him, and said, “I mean – no.”

  Joseph turned back to the detective. “Which is it?”

  Carter hovered over Joseph, his feet shuffling slightly, uncomfortable about being here at this hour.

  “Joseph, we have a small room for prayer at the precinct. You shouldn’t have come here – it’s too dangerous. So, yes – I think you’re mad for being here. And no, not for looking towards God for direction.”

  The church, St Andrews, was situated just half a block from the precinct. Joseph had lain awake as Marianna lay next to him, sleeping lightly, whimpering like a terrified child. The noise had sounded too much like the sound of Jake’s terror for Joseph to endure. He’d climbed out of the single cot, dressed, then left the open cell and gone to gather his wits. In the cell next to his, Tyler slept, the thick blanket pulled up under her chin, just her shoes visible underneath the bed.

  Joseph had stood on the steps leading to the precinct for a while, drawing clean, crisp air into his lungs in an attempt to dispel some of the anxiety that gnawed away at his gut. A slight scattering of snow fell from the dark skies, barely heavy enough to leave its mark on the world below. Just a thin layer of white powder marked the streets and avenues. Tomorrow morning seemed like it would never come, darkness holding on with an impossible grasp. The city had fallen quiet, as if it was now holding its breath in anticipation of Joseph’s plight.

  The bright steeple of the church had cut through the night like a guiding beacon, and Joseph had followed the light with the same conviction as a lost vessel.

  As he made his way towards the church, he encountered only the occasional passer-by, who looked upon him with more concern in their eyes than he had in his. There would be no late-night hits, masked men jumping out of the shadows with silenced weapons. No, the night held no nightmares now – only morning would bring such horrors. It had taken a good few minutes to walk the hundred yards or so, his right side slowing him down considerably.

  Inside, Joseph had found the silence that he sought so desperately. He’d seated himself before allowing his thoughts to wander. Jake’s face had come to him, happy, bright, loving, and Joseph had wept silently for a while.

  Now, he turned his attention back to Carter. “How did you find me?” he asked, wondering why the detective hadn’t used such an ability to track down his son.

  “You left footprints in the snow,” Carter responded.

  Joseph sighed heavily. Nothing quite so obvious was going to lead them to his son. “You don’t need to be here, no harm will come to me tonight.”

  Carter nodded. “I guess you’re right. Still, the city holds other dangers at these late hours.”

  Joseph laughed gently. “Not for a six-foot-two black man, there ain’t.”

  Carter smiled despite the tension. “I guess.”

  “You a religious man, Detective?”

  Carter paused for a moment. He didn’t want to explain how he cursed God every night for the loss of his son. That would not help Joseph in this, his time of need. “It’s Thomas,” he replied, simply.

  “Sorry?”

  “My name – Thomas.”

  “Oh…”

  “And yeah – I believe we’re being watched by someone, something.”

  “You think this ‘something’ has a kind heart? Or enjoys watching us suffer?”

  Carter shrugged. “Both – unfortunately. But even one person’s grief can be another’s gain.”

  “At the cost of the innocent, though.”

  “Perhaps,” Carter agreed. “My son, for instance. He died by taking a bullet. A bullet that might have killed the storeowner, had Billy not entered. A storeowner who was due to donate bone marrow to his ailing niece.”

  “What are you saying? That some must die to protect others?”

  “Not exactly. What I’m saying is that there doesn’t always appear to be justice or reasoning to God’s plans. But everything is connected in one way or another. Something good may come of tomorrow. Something that could not happen if Jake hadn’t been taken.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Joseph turned back to the figure of Christ. “For everything a reason,” he said, praying that the detective was right, that the return of Jake would lead to something both good and decent.

  He reached inside his pocket to produce the letter that Edward Jones had given him. “You think there’s something good in here?” he asked.

  Carter took the creased envelope. “Could be. Maybe.” He turned it over, finding both sides blank. “Could be nothing. Or a warning to Viktor? Maybe Edward Jones is trying to make amends?”

  “Open it,” Joseph said.

  Carter looked back with curiosity. “What if we don’t like what’s inside?”

  Joseph simply shrugged. “I don’t like anythin
g about any of this. What difference will that make?”

  The letter was handed back. “It’s your call, Joseph. Jones gave it to you.”

  Joseph held the unopened envelope on his lap. He turned towards the statue of Christ again, hoping for guidance. “What the hell,” he said, pushing his thumb underneath one corner of the flap.

  A sudden hollow boom sounded from behind them. The church door opened and an icy gust of wind raced along the pews to douse the sea of lit candles. Some blinked out instantly, releasing small tendrils of smoke upwards, whereas others flickered and fought to remain alight. The door behind them swung open again, and another cold draught blew most of the remaining candles out. Only one remained lit. This one appeared in the centre of the extinguished group, burnt down almost to its roots. Both men looked beyond the single light at the face of Christ. From this angle they witnessed – believed – that the Holy Son’s eyes were actually focused on the one remaining candle.

  Joseph’s thumb stayed as it was. He looked first towards the candle, then back to Carter. The detective’s attention was riveted to the single flicker of white light. Without looking away, Carter reached out to take Joseph’s wrist. He pulled gently, removing Joseph’s thumb from the bent flap.

  “Maybe we should let Viktor open that,” he advised, finally breaking away from the strange connection.

  Joseph nodded. “Yeah. Perhaps you’re right.” Gently, he returned the envelope to his pocket.

  The detective placed his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “We should be getting back now.”

  “Yeah,” Joseph agreed. He stood and moved out of the pew. He took a few steps down the aisle before turning back to Carter.

  “You ready for what tomorrow brings?”

  Carter looked first at the statue of Christ, then back to Joseph. “I swear on my boy’s soul I’ll do everything in my power to get Jake back.”

  Their eyes locked together. Both nodded in silent agreement, then Carter joined Joseph ready to make the trip back, ready for what the morning had to offer.

  ***

  The morning came solemnly. There was no blaze of sunshine on the horizon, just a slight lightening of the sky, which turned slowly from black to darkest grey. The thin scattering of snow had cleared, blown away by the harsh February winds. The sun’s failure to break through the thick clouds had left the cityscape stark and monochrome.

  Like the streets outside, the Department was quiet, sombre, subdued.

  Joseph lay with his head on his arms, which were crossed over and resting on Carter’s desk, forming a makeshift pillow. The detective sat opposite, his feet propped up on the desk, snoring softly.

  The few remaining FBI agents were gathered in Mendoza’s office, resting peacefully, apparently unfazed by the magnitude of recent events. It seemed as if child abduction and cop killings were commonplace in their daily routine.

  As if on a timer, set to awake everyone at the stroke of seven, the phone rang at that exact time.

  Joseph bolted upwards and Carter nearly fell out of his seat. One of the FBI agents quickly left the Captain’s office to rush over and take his place behind the electronic equipment.

  Joseph made his way hastily towards the phone. He picked it up and pressed the handset to his ear.

  “Yes?”

  “Big bear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nine o’clock at Union Station – main foyer, and come alone.”

  The phone line died instantly.

  Joseph simply placed the handset back, not looking at the agent, already knowing that the call had been too short for them to trace.

  Carter asked, “Okay – what now?”

  “New York Union Station – main foyer – nine o’clock.”

  Carter turned to the clock. “Gives us two hours to plan.”

  “He said come alone,” Joseph added.

  Carter just nodded, his mind already moving into overdrive. “They always say ‘come alone’.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Exactly as they say. You go alone – or make them think you have.”

  “How do we do that?” Joseph asked.

  The detective’s head tilted somewhat, a slight grin playing across his face. “Union Station at nine o’clock.”

  Joseph looked back blankly. “And?”

  “And, the place will be busier than a parade on the 4th of July. We could hide the entire Department among the commuters and nobody would be any the wiser.”

  “Oh…” Joseph said.

  “Yeah – oh. Our killer just made his first big mistake. He’s not going to try anything in such a busy place.”

  “So why pick it then?”

  The detective shrugged.

  Joseph had expected to be ordered to meet in the most remote of places, not somewhere you could hide a platoon of FBI agents and detectives. He looked towards the detective’s face and found excitement there. Just for a second, Joseph felt anger and hatred towards Carter. How dare he gain pleasure from this terrible event. In the next instant, though, Joseph recognised that it was the pursuit of justice that drove the detective.

  “We’d better go and wake Tyler,” Carter said. “We’ve got a lot to plan before nine.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Nothing felt real: Not the usual heavy morning traffic or the sound of rubber over asphalt, engines purring or revving noisily, or the hoot and holler of horns and hotheads. The detective’s Sedan moved slowly through the flow, sandwiched in tightly moving channels of chrome and paint.

  “What time do you make it?” Joseph asked from the passenger side.

  “Eight-thirty,” Carter replied. “Relax, Joseph, we’ll make it with time to spare.”

  “And then what?”

  “We get Jake back – no matter what.”

  Joseph’s attention returned to the outside world. The colourless streets and avenues, along with this grizzled detective, made Joseph feel as if he’d been sucked into a bad Film Noir. With him as the hapless victim and Carter as the gritty no-nonsense cop. He shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts away from the bizarre images that his tired, overstretched mind seemed intent on conjuring up.

  Taking a deep breath, he cleared his head and then asked, “What if the FBI agents are seen, or you, for that matter?”

  Carter pushed his way into the lane to his right, then left the highway and headed towards Union Station. Once he’d negotiated his way along the turnpike and onto 5th Avenue, he answered Joseph’s question.

  “They won’t. Why would they? Nobody knows they’ve even been assigned to the case.”

  “Assigned?” Joseph quizzed. To him, the agents had taken a decidedly backseat role in all of this. They’d hovered around the Department, looking interested and concerned, but had only really shown any excitement or commitment once the final call had come through. Perhaps, thought Joseph, that that was a good sign. Maybe the team were of the highest calibre, trained only to react when most appropriate.

  What had Edward Jones said? They have their own agenda…

  With the exception of Agent Vitos, now that he thought about it, even if they lined up before him with suits and ties straight, and shades tucked neatly into breast pockets, Joseph wouldn’t have been able to identify them. No, they had not only been aloof but also enigmatic.

  “Look,” Carter said. “They’re professionals – good men. They wouldn’t allow any mistakes to jeopardise Jake’s safety.”

  “What about my mistakes?” Joseph asked, needing counsel now that the encounter was imminent.

  “You won’t make any. All you got to do is show up, do as you’re told, and we’ll do the rest.”

  “This is all too convenient, too simple, meeting at the station. Why?”

  “Safety in numbers,” Carter replied. “This Yurius may just want to hand Jake back and then slip away in the crowd.”

  “Hardly. He could simply drop him off anywhere, call it in, and then keep out of view.”

  Carter turned towa
rds New York Union Station, the flow of traffic thickening again, as passengers were dropped off outside the main foyer, ready to begin their journey.

  “Joseph, this Yurius is not going to try anything on with so many witnesses around. For now, we must take strength from the fact that Jake is okay, and we still have the element of surprise. He has no idea we have his identity – remember?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Okay – let’s stay positive.”

  “Yeah…” Joseph repeated, hoping to God that the next few hours wouldn’t end in tragedy.

  Carter pulled the Sedan up at kerbside. “Okay – this is a far as I dare go.”

  Joseph looked at the detective, his eyes full of need. “What happens if he wants to go elsewhere?”

  “Then go. Don’t ask questions, don’t look too aware, and don’t challenge him – no matter what he says.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning act like the distraught parent, desperate to get your child back and willing to do whatever it takes.”

  “Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Joseph replied, feeling exactly that. He dug inside his pocket, pulling out the letter that Edward Jones had given him. “What the hell is in here?”

  Carter looked at it with suspicion. “Don’t pin all your hopes on that. Stay alert, be ready for anything.”

  “Okay.”

  The detective held out his hand. “Good luck, Joseph.”

  Joseph took it and replied, “You think God – or this ‘something’ – will be watching out for us today?”

  The detective nodded. “Yeah – I do.”

  Joseph opened the door. The wind clawed its way inside the Sedan, instantly freezing both men. With awkwardness, Joseph climbed outside. He stooped to bring himself level with the passenger opening. “You got my back, Thomas?”

  “You bet.”

  Joseph slammed the door shut and turned away from the parked Sedan. And, as he made the short trip to the station entrance, he felt like the loneliest man on the planet.

  ***