“No?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“Fuck you.”
Finn smiled. “I suppose that’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?”
“More than you deserve.”
“You’re gonna tell me what I deserve?”
“I said I love her, not that I deserve her,” Kozlowski said. “I’ll take it.”
“Fair enough,” Finn said. “Just don’t screw it up.”
“You said that already.”
The phone rang, and Finn leaned over to pick it up. “This is Finn,” he said. He could hear the noises in the background, and he sat up straight. They were unmistakable sounds: children crying in the background; adults hollering, their voices full of stress; a public announcement in an automaton’s voice echoing off a linoleum floor; sirens in the distance. They were hospital sounds.
“Is this a law office?” the woman’s voice said.
“It is,” Finn replied. “Who is this?”
“This is City Hospital. Does a woman named Lissa Krantz work there?”
“Yes. Why, is there something wrong?” Finn glanced up at Kozlowski, who was returning his look, an edge of concern reflecting Finn’s own tension.
“She’s okay,” the woman said. “At least she should be. She was involved in an altercation.”
“What kind of an altercation?” Finn asked. “What are you talking about?” He looked at Kozlowski and shook his head in an attempt to look reassuring. From the look on Kozlowski’s face, it was clearly not working.
“I don’t really know, sir. That’s all the information I have. Is she married?”
“Sort of.”
“The doctor told me that we should get her husband here if possible, for when she wakes up.”
“Wakes up? She’s unconscious? What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, I only have the notes they gave me. The doctor’s in with another patient, and it’s a little crazy around here. You’ll have to come down to the hospital to get the full information.”
“Okay, we’ll be right down,” Finn said. He was about to hang up the phone, but he paused. “Wait,” he said. “What about the girl?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before the woman spoke. “What girl?” she asked.
“They said she was okay?” Kozlowski said.
“Yeah.” They were moving as soon as Finn hung up the phone. Finn forwarded his office phone to his cell and locked the door to the office. Kozlowski was already in the car when Finn got there.
“Did they say what happened?” Kozlowski asked. His voice seemed calm, but Finn could hear the man’s teeth grinding together, and the muscles in his jaw and shoulders were flexing in a disjointed, spasmodic rhythm.
Finn shook his head. He was worried about Lissa, but the nurse who had called said she was going to be okay. His primary concern was locating Sally. “She’d probably head to the office,” Finn said. “Either that or my apartment.”
“Who?” Kozlowski’s full consciousness was devoted to Lissa at the moment.
“Sally,” Finn said. “If Lissa never got to the school to pick her up, she must’ve set off for Charlestown on foot.”
Kozlowski shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Can you think of anyplace else she would go?” Finn cast a quick look at Kozlowski as he drove.
“I have trouble thinking of anyplace she wouldn’t go.” He looked at Finn. “What? You’ve seen her. She’s been on her own for a while, I’m sure she’s got lots of places she can go-none of them good.”
Finn turned his attention back to the road. “She’s my responsibility,” he said.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Kozlowski said.
Finn’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and took a quick look at the readout. The call was being forwarded from the office; the number was blocked. It could be the hospital, Finn thought.
He pressed the button to accept the call and put the phone up to his ear. “This is Finn,” he said. He heard nothing but static; he was traveling through a weak signal, and the noise from his car made it difficult to hear. “Hello?”
“I have the girl,” the voice said.
“Who is this?” From the accent Finn had a pretty good idea, but he could think of nothing else to say.
“ Devon will know who I am,” the voice said. “Tell him I have her. Tell him I want the paintings. If I get the paintings, I’ll let her go. If not, I’ll kill her.”
“I don’t understand; what paintings?” Finn bluffed.
“ Devon will know.” The man’s voice made Finn shiver.
“What if Devon doesn’t know what you’re talking about? What if he doesn’t have any paintings?”
“That would be too bad. Particularly for the girl. His daughter, as I understand it? Either he gives me the paintings, or he trades himself for his daughter. If I have time with him, I’ll find out for myself whether or not he knows anything. Otherwise, she dies. Tell him.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“One more thing,” the man said. “Don’t go to the police. If I think they are involved, I’ll kill her. Then I’ll come after Devon. Then I’ll finish off the woman from today and her old man. Then I’ll come after you. Are we clear?”
“ Crystal,” Finn said.
“Good.”
“I need time to get him out of jail,” Finn said.
“I’ll give you a day, then I’ll call back.”
“I don’t know that it’ll happen that fast.”
“One day, Mr. Finn,” the voice said. “Then I’ll kill the girl.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’ll do better than that. I’ll call tomorrow at the end of the day. Six o’clock. Have Malley out, and be ready with an answer. Otherwise, I’ll be coming.” The line went dead.
Finn clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. Kozlowski was still looking at him, saying nothing. “Not good,” Finn said.
“ Devon ’s Irishman?” Kozlowski asked.
Finn nodded. “He’s got Sally. He says he’ll kill her if he doesn’t get the paintings. Either that or Devon trades himself for her.”
“That’s not good,” Kozlowski agreed. “I take it he’s the one who put Lissa in the hospital?”
“Probably. He says that if we go to the police, he’ll kill us all.”
Finn could see Kozlowski’s jaw muscles grow tighter. “Can’t you make this goddamned car go any faster?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Boston City Hospital was on Massachusetts Avenue, just across the Roxbury border from the South End. The area had traditionally been one of the more dangerous in Boston. Gentrification had edged its way in uneasily during the explosion of real estate costs in the city in the 1990s and early 2000s, but it remained a high-crime neighborhood. Boston was the home to many of the world’s greatest hospitals; due largely to its location, BCH was not considered one of them. It served an urban community without the money or the connections to get into Mass General or Brigham and Women’s. Nevertheless, it was a place with a solid reputation, and a wealth of experience in treating trauma victims.
Finn and Kozlowski gave their names at the desk and were directed to a nurse in an office off to the side of the emergency room. She, in turn, took their information again and made a call to page another nurse. That nurse came down and led them through the emergency room waiting area to an elevator and up to the second floor. No one would answer any of their questions. It wasn’t clear to Finn whether the silence was a result of lack of knowledge or adherence to procedure.
On the second floor, Finn and Kozlowski were introduced to a doctor who at least seemed familiar with Lissa’s status. He was young enough that Finn considered asking for someone older. He was wearing a stethoscope, though, and the nametag on his white coat read “Dr. Jeffson.” Finn suspected that questioning his competence wasn’t going to get them information any quicker.
“She was found on Dorchester,” Dr. Jeffson said. Even his voice sounded young. “She was lying unconscious by the side of the road; her car was parked a few yards away. At first the suspicion was that she’d been in some sort of an accident, but there was no damage to the car, and her injuries are more consistent with an assault. She was hit over the head with something solid. The police are interviewing people, trying to determine exactly what happened, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s not the sort of neighborhood where people see anything.”