Reggie, the so-called life coach, was driving. She wasn’t saying much. It was the two men in back who were making sure Jane stayed down on the floor, who were doing most of the talking. And most of that was about how much money they were going to get.
“You got any idea how much it might be?” one asked.
“It’s gonna be a lot,” the other said. “Probably more than a mill. Reggie, you think it’ll be more than a mill once he empties out all the houses?”
Reggie: “We’ll see.”
They did talk about some other matters. About the call they had to make to Vince, how this really was a better, quicker way to do it. All that other energy they’d wasted, hiding GPS tracking devices in the bags with the cash, trying to figure out which houses, when it made more sense to let Vince just bring everything to them.
She guessed it took ten minutes tops to reach their destination. So they were probably still in Milford, although they could be almost to New Haven, or Bridgeport, or even up to Shelton, if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she didn’t think they’d taken any highways, so Milford was most likely.
She wondered how long it would be before anyone at work noticed she wasn’t there. It wasn’t likely she could count on Hector, that little shit, to call the police. Her failure to return to the office would be his opportunity to speculate to the rest of the staff that she’d fucked off for a very early, and very long, lunch.
Would anyone even make the effort to notice that her purse was still there? That her Mini was in the parking lot?
Jane wondered whether she should have made more of an effort to get on Hector’s good side.
Lying on the floor of the car, her bagged face pressed against the mat, Jane had wondered whether they were going to kill her. And even if they didn’t, she was wondering what they might do with her in the meantime, because one of the guys in the backseat was giving her a very bad feeling.
He was exceedingly creepy.
“She’s pretty, don’t you think?” he asked. “Nice ass.”
“Stay focused, Joseph,” Reggie said. “Logan, control your brother.”
“He’s just admiring the scenery,” said the other one, whose voice was deeper.
Joseph and Logan. Brothers.
“Whaddya think?” Joseph said quietly. “Be nice to have a bit of that.”
“When we get the money,” Logan said, “you can buy yourself the best piece of ass in the country. You don’t have to settle for what’s thrown in front of you.”
“Yeah, but still. It’s right there.”
Jane felt a hand on her butt and tried to shift her position, to shake him off.
“Now, now,” said Joseph. “I bet she’d be a wild one.”
As much as Jane wanted to get a look at these fuckers, she wondered whether being blindfolded was a blessing. If they were going to kill her, they wouldn’t want her to see their faces. But then again, she’d seen Reggie. And they were calling one another by their names. It didn’t sound as though they were struggling to remember fake ones. Wouldn’t it be kind of stupid to use their real names if they were going to let her go? Wouldn’t they figure she’d tell Vince, maybe even the cops, their names once they’d let her go?
Which made Jane think, no matter how things went down, they weren’t going to release her. They’d put a bag over her head to make her more docile. It had nothing to do with protecting their identities.
When they’d pulled into the garage, Logan had said, “We’re gonna untie your legs so you can walk in. Don’t start kicking or anything.”
Jane moved her head up and down.
“Okay, then. Free up her legs,” he said to his brother.
“Just let me get out my knife,” Joseph said. He leaned over, put his mouth close to her ear. “It’s a mighty sharp knife.” Then she felt tugging at her ankles as he cut through the rope.
“Okay,” Joseph said, and she felt his hand graze along her thigh. It was like having a tarantula crawl on you.
Logan got her up into a sitting position, helped her work her butt over the hump, and her legs started extending out the open back door.
“I’ll lead you in,” Logan said.
They walked slowly around the car, their footsteps echoing on cold concrete. There were two steps up into the house, maybe ten paces down a hall. Then they stopped.
“Stairs down,” the man said.
She took them one at a time. They were just wide enough for two, which allowed the man to walk down with her, a hand at her elbow the whole way.
“Now turn left here. Okay, turn around — you can sit down. There’s a soft chair here.”
She sat. There was a cushion on the seat, but the back was wood. It felt like a kitchen chair.
“Okay, well, we’ll be in touch,” Logan said.
She sensed his retreat, then heard the sound of a door closing. She didn’t know whether he’d left a light on. The bag on her head didn’t allow any light through, although the weave was not so tight as to keep out air. Good thing, too, since she had only her nose to breathe through.
As she sat there in her own world of darkness, she struggled to free her wrists, but the rope was tight and cutting into her skin.
Jane could hear voices upstairs.
There had to be a kitchen or living room directly above her. The voices sounded almost tinny, as though they were reaching her through a heat vent.
“I think he’ll deliver,” said someone. A man, but it didn’t sound like either of the two men who’d been in the car with her.
“I think Wyatt’s right,” Reggie said. “He’s not gonna let the girl die.”
Wyatt. The husband. The one who’d bagged her head and pushed her into the car. He must have driven here separately. So there were at least four of them. Reggie, Wyatt, Logan, and Joseph.
For a while, she heard nothing other than footsteps occasionally going by overhead. Then, from another part of the house, someone talking angrily, but no one was responding. Jane figured he had to be on a phone.
The door opened.
“Hey.” Reggie. “Your dad, or whatever the fuck he is, wants to hear your voice.”
She unwrapped the tape around her neck so he could lift the bag up far enough to get at the tape on her mouth.
“Hang on,” Reggie said into the phone. “Here she is.”
Jane shouted, “Vince, don’t—”
Reggie slapped the tape back into place, let the bag fall down. She left the room without taping the bag around Jane’s neck, and closed the door.
She thought she’d heard Vince say something, even though the woman hadn’t put the phone to her ear.
One word.
Baby?
Had he ever called her that before? Sweetheart, maybe. Honey. But never Baby.
Jane wanted to cry. She wanted to panic, too. But she kept herself from doing either.
She had to be tough.
She’d always been tough. She’d always known how to look after herself. She had to figure a way out of this.
They were going to kill her. She was sure of it. Didn’t matter whether Vince delivered or not.
They’d probably kill him, too, unless he had some brilliant plan to outsmart them.
She heard the door open again. Someone was entering the room.
Jane made a noise from behind the tape. “Mm, mm, mm?” It was the best “Who is it?” she could manage.
Whoever was there said nothing. But she could hear breathing.
They’d sent someone down to kill her. They’d convinced Vince she was alive, and they didn’t need her anymore. She bent forward and shook her head, trying to get the bag to fall off, but it stayed put.