"They're driving up here tonight?"
"Val wants to see Eric. Hank says she's very stressed out and hanging by threads, and you know how he is. He's loyal, and he's a good guy. He also said Val's worried about Eric-you know that's all it'd take. Hank's got a soft spot where children are concerned."
Ty knew. Ten years ago, Hank had lost his first wife and three-year-old daughter in a car accident while he was serving overseas. He'd dedicated himself to his work and public service, but it had taken Antonia Winter to get him to let himself take the risk of falling in love again.
"How'd he sound?" Ty asked.
"I don't know-he's very good at concealing what he's really feeling. It's such a stressful situation." She sighed, breaking off. "I'm coming up there. I'll take the first plane I can out of here in the morning."
The kettle whistled, and Carine, frowning at him, grabbed a pot holder and filled her chipped teapot with the hot water. But she didn't snatch the phone out of his hand, and he said, "Nate's coming tomorrow, too. Maybe you two can meet up at the airport."
"That'd be good. I don't want to be a worrywart, but it's just-" Antonia faltered, a rarity for her. "Never mind. You have enough on your plate without fretting about me. Carine? You're keeping your promise?"
He smiled. "I don't know about that."
"Liar. You know damned well what you've been up to. So do I. I am a doctor-and I know you two."
"Goodbye, Antonia. Safe flight tomorrow."
He hung up. Carine unwrapped tea bags and dropped them in the hot water, their tags hanging over the sides of the teapot. Normal tea bags. But Ty could see the tension in the way she held herself. They'd pulled on their clothes, but there was no pretending what happened in the loft hadn't happened. She knew it had, and she wasn't sure she approved.
Well, who would?
But he pushed the thought out of his mind and dialed Manny's cell phone, and when he got his friend's voice mail-again-he left a pointed message. "You have Val's cell phone number? Call her. She's up to something."
Twenty-Five
With as much adrenaline as she had pumping through her, Val didn't get sleepy on the long drive north. Hank wasn't dropping off, either. He sat rigidly as he drove, as if he were on some secret military mission. She'd let him call Antonia and reassure her, although it didn't sound like she was thrilled when he told her he was on his way to Cold Ridge.
After he'd hung up with his new wife, he glared at her. "Get this straight, Val. I'm not driving you to Cold Ridge because you've got your goddamn gun. I'm driving you because I know you're frightened and feel you're out of options. So, let's just get there."
The hours ticked by. It was a dark, cloudy night, but there was no rain. Traffic eased, and when they crossed the border into New Hampshire and the sun came up, she wondered if she'd imagined the calls. Wouldn't that be nice? She'd rather be delusional than have to face the caller again.
The yellow and orange leaves had vanished, in their place, bare limbs and patches of oaks with brown-and burgundy leaves. The air was colder. She could feel it even with the heat on in the car. The sun and the blue sky were deceptive. She looked up at the looming mountains, stark against the clear sky, and saw that some of the highest peaks had snow.
They were off the interstate now, almost to Cold Ridge.
She sighed at Hank, trying to distract herself. "Do you ever wish you'd stayed in for thirty instead of retiring?"
He glanced over at her. "Right now I do."
She ignored his tight undertone. "Manny had no business getting out. Don't you think he'd make a great PJ instructor? He's like this old warhorse. He's done all these different kinds of missions. He's seen it all. I don't want him back in combat, but he could be an instructor."
"Val," Hank interrupted softly, "let me help you."
She stared down at the Glock in her lap. "I don't know what to do."
"Talk to me."
Her fatigue was eating away at her reserves. They'd had no food, no water since hitting the road. They'd had to stop for gas, but Val had done the pumping, her unloaded Glock tucked in the waistband of her jeans. They'd managed a bathroom run, and that was really when she'd realized Hank wasn't going to try to escape-he was playing along with her, because he was her friend, he knew her, he knew she was scared and desperate and stupid.
He was so damned caring. Nobody could ever fault Hank Callahan for not caring.
She sank her forehead into her hands and started to sob.
"Val…what would Manny want you to do?" Hank's voice was gentle, breaking through her fog of desperation, her sobs. "He loves you. I've never seen a man love a woman as much as he does you. Twenty years from now, if Antonia and I have what you two have-"
"Don't-Hank, please don't."
"He'd want you to trust me."
She lifted her head, sniffling. "He'd want me to jump out of this car so you could run me over."
She could feel Hank's smile. "Well, that, too."
"Oh, shit." She threw back her head and swore at the top of her lungs, then looked over at him. "I could have been an astronaut, you know."
"Val…"
She told him everything. What was in Manny's computer files, about the police search warrant-and about her caller. Hank listened without interruption. That was another of his virtues. He listened to people. Not Manny, she thought. Mostly, Manny liked to be listened to.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."
Hank stayed focused on the narrow, winding road. "We're in Cold Ridge now. It's where we both need to be, don't you think?"
She nodded. "When you say it, it sounds sensible."
He reached over and wiped a tear off the end of her nose. "Wait'll Manny sees you. What a mess."
"He didn't kill that guy."
"I know."
Her phone rang, and she managed to answer it without dropping the gun. "Yes?"
"Where are you?" the toneless voice asked.
"I'm not saying until you tell me who you are."
The caller paused, then gave a sad, long-suffering sigh. "You've told Senator Callahan, haven't you? He's calling the shots. I thought it might come to this. Well, allow me to persuade you in another way."
"Look, if you really are a friend-"
"You called your son last night."
"What?" She couldn't grasp what he was saying, couldn't make the leap. "What about my son? How did you know I called him?"
"I was with him. You called him on his cell phone. You assumed he was in his dorm room-"
"No!"
"I made him take the phone with him, Mrs. Carrera. I have your son."
Hank didn't say a word or try to take the phone from her; he just pulled over to the side of the road and waited.
A numbness crept up her neck and into her cheeks. "What-what do you want me to do?"
"Mom?" It was Eric, coughing, scared. "Mom, he made me pretend I was asleep-"
"Where are you?"
But the caller had grabbed the phone away. "Feisty little kid, for an asthmatic." There was no friendliness in the toneless voice now. "He has his rescue inhaler and his EpiPen, but it's November in the mountains. Open the window. Feel the air. He won't last long."
"Don't hurt my son. Please."
"If you cooperate, he'll have a chance. If anything happens to me, I promise you, Mrs. Carrera-Val-no one will find your son in time."
She gulped in a breath. "We're on the main road into the village. What do you want me to do?"
"Turn onto the notch road. Hank knows it. There are two scenic pullovers. The first one is at a lake. Don't take that one. The second one-the one you want-is at a picnic area. A couple of picnic tables, a lot of rocks. Pull in and wait for me. I'll find you."
"Eric-"
"Any cops, any curveball at all, your kid is dead. It's cold,he'ssick.ButIdon'twanthim.Doyouunderstand?"
"No, I-"
"I want the senator in exchange for your son."