“If you don’t know where she is, then it’s your job to find her for me.”
“I don’t-”
“Shut up!”
The grip tightened. The burning sensation in Jack’s lungs was unbearable. A hint of blood flavored his mouth, the pressure somehow having triggered it. Jack fought for air, but his attacker was in complete control.
“You are going to lead me to Sydney,” the man said, his hand like a vise around Jack’s neck, the words slurring through the wads of cotton in his mouth. “If you don’t, I promise you this: Someone you love will get what Sydney deserves.”
The hand around Jack’s throat rose higher on his neck and closed even tighter. Jack had one final burst of resistance left in his body, and then nothing more. The pounding in his head seemed to explode into his ears, and then the night went from black to blacker-to nothing.
Chapter Eleven
It was Jack’s second visit to a hospital in as many days. This time, he was the patient-in the emergency room.
“How do you feel?” asked Andie.
It was just the two of them in the small patient bay. A privacy curtain separated them from the buzz of activity that was the nerve center of Mercy Hospital’s ER. The adjustable bed was in the upright position, forcing Jack to sit up.
“I’m totally fine,” he said. “Can we get out of here, please?”
With all the tests they were running, Jack knew he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. His visit to the ER was going on four hours, and Andie had been at his side almost that long. A security guard at the high school had found Jack in the bushes and called an ambulance. By the time paramedics arrived, Jack had regained consciousness, somewhat disoriented but lucid enough to realize that his attacker had removed the bindings before fleeing. His wrists and ankles were raw, however, red bracelets that confirmed his recollection. He’d already recounted the entire attack twice, once to the ER physician and again to Andie. He was tired of talking about it, tired of saying the name Sydney Bennett. He was especially tired of the neck brace.
“This thing has got to go,” he said as he tugged at the Velcro.
“Leave it,” said Andie.
Frustrated and exhausted, Jack let his head settle back into the pillow. The privacy curtain parted, and in walked a man who could have been straight out of an episode of Law amp; Order.
“Jorge Rivera,” he said in a voice that was just right for a police station, a little loud for a patient with a throbbing head. “City of Miami Police.”
The neck brace prevented Jack from turning his head, but he cut his eyes in Rivera’s direction, then toward Andie, who explained what the detective was doing there.
“I called him,” she said.
For a moment, Jack was speechless. “Andie, what if I didn’t want to involve the police?”
Andie paused, her turn to be speechless. It was one of those patented disconnects in their relationship, as if Jack had asked, What if I wanted to paint myself blue and run naked through the ER?
She rose and shook Rivera’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” He said “no” like a cow, a long moo with an “n.” From Jack’s vantage point, the bovine analogy seemed to fit in more ways than one. He was a large man, undoubtedly muscle-bound in his younger years, simply thick in middle age. He wore a necktie with the top button of his shirt unbuttoned, not to be casual but because the jowls made it impossible to button it. Folds of skin on the back of his neck led like steps to his crew-cut head. He had a set of matching stairs on his forehead.
“I know you’re hurtin’,” said Rivera, “but I’ll be quick. I got most of what I need from Agent Henning’s report.”
Jack shot another look in Andie’s direction-more than just eye movement this time, despite the neck brace. “You did a report?” he said, incredulous.
“Yes, I had to.”
“No, you didn’t have to. This isn’t an FBI matter.”
“You’re wrong there, Jack. Your attacker threatened an FBI agent.”
Someone you love will get what Sydney deserves. Andie had probably filled in the blank correctly, but other alarming possibilities came to mind.
“What about Abuela?” Jack said. “And my father?”
“Theo is spending the night at your grandmother’s. I spoke to your father. It was three A.M. his time, and he didn’t seem particularly concerned.”
Jack blinked, confused.
Andie said, “Your father and stepmother are vacationing in London. They’re five hours ahead of us. Six hours ago, your head was clear enough to remember that.”
Jack had completely forgotten, which told him that he wasn’t recovering from the attack as quickly as he had thought. “I’ll call them in the morning.”
“Anyone else you want to call?” asked Rivera.
“Let me think a minute,” said Jack. “My head’s a little cloudy, and I don’t want to forget if there’s anyone else I should-oh, hell yes. Sydney’s parents.”
Rivera looked confused. “You put Sydney’s parents in the category of ‘someone you love’?”
“No, no,” said Jack. “The threat wasn’t just against me and my loved ones. This guy is out to do harm to the Bennetts’ daughter-that’s his ultimate objective. They need to be made aware of that.”
Andie said, “I spoke to them. Neither one of them claims to have a clue where Sydney is.”
“Do you believe them?” asked Jack.
“Actually, I do,” said Andie. “Lord knows that if they were in touch with Sydney, we would have heard about it on BNN by now.”
Jack sensed a hint of sarcasm. “Maybe I should follow up with them.”
“No,” said Andie. “They really don’t want to hear from you.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Jack. The defense hadn’t explicitly played the “abuse excuse” at trial, but they hadn’t portrayed the Bennetts as model parents, either.
“I’ll work that angle,” said Andie. “For now, I made it clear that they need to call me if they hear from Sydney. My message to them was that Sydney didn’t do anything illegal by going into hiding, but she could be doing something really stupid if she decides to come out of hiding.”
“Oooo-kay,” said Rivera, another moo. “My turn. Just a few questions for you, Mr. Swyteck.” He removed a pen and notepad from his pocket, then started down his checklist.
“First, Agent Henning said you’ve been getting threatening phone calls. Did any of those callers sound like the guy who attacked you?”
“No. First of all, the guy had some kind of voice distorter, like he had cotton or something in his mouth. But aside from that, every call I got was from a woman. You could ask my secretary if any of the calls she took were from men.”
“Already did that,” said Andie. “All women.”
Rivera put a check mark on his list, then stumbled through a few generic questions that could have fit everything from a dog bite to a terrorist attack. He was rambling, almost as if stalling, which was annoying. Finally, a police photographer arrived, and Rivera got to the heart of the matter.
“Mind if I take a look at your neck?”
“Sorry, Dr. Henning here says I have to leave this contraption on.”
Andie rolled her eyes and said, “I’ll check with the doctor.”
Rivera and the photographer discussed the shots they needed while Andie was away. Her quick return told Jack that she had definitely flashed her badge out there in the ER jungle. A doctor accompanied her. Jack had one of those feeling-old moments, struck by the way doctors seemed to get younger every time he needed one. This one looked like a teenager.
“I’m Dr. Cohen,” she said as she removed the brace. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
“Ouch!” said Jack.
“As long as you don’t turn your head,” the doctor added.
The photographer moved in quickly for the shots they needed-straight on, side angles, close-ups.