From this point of view, he could see two weathered outbuildings, a large, well-used tractor, and the corner of what seemed to be a sizable barn, also white. There was a corral of some sort beyond the barn with hay, a water trough, and several cows-Jerseys, if he remembered right-with hides like tan and white jigsaw puzzles. Not far beyond the outbuildings was a vast, fenced-in field and, beyond that, forest. There was no hint as to where the farm might be located.
Using his elbow, Will tested the window. It was, as Gold had said, thick Plexiglas, firmly bolted to the house. He wondered how many others had been imprisoned there, and why, and acknowledged that if he were ever to escape from this room, it would be through the door. At that moment, as if on cue, the lone door opened and Marshall Gold stepped inside. He was absolutely resplendent in pristine Nikes, a pair of black satin workout pants, and an unadorned gold T-shirt that accented the striking V from his shoulders to his waist. A towel was draped over his neck. It seemed clear to Will that in public, Boyd Halliday’s executive assistant went out of his way to dress in conservative styles that underemphasized his impressive physique. No sense tipping anyone off that the mild-mannered bookkeeper also just happened to be a professional killer.
“Grant, good to see you up and about,” he said cheerily.
“Drop dead.”
“I can have my man Watkins bandage up those fingers if you wish. He was a corpsman in the army.”
“That must have been before he discovered pizza.”
“Actually, there’s a surprising amount of muscle in there. So, bandages or no?”
“Send him in. Tell him to be gentle, though. I have a very low pain threshold.”
Gold grinned.
“Well, we still want those X-rays and you still haven’t told us how you managed to get rid of them and where they might be now.”
“Good. I figured when I didn’t wake up dead, I hadn’t told you. I guess after he killed Charles Newcomber, you told Krause not to be quite so heavy-handed.”
“Something like that. Let’s just say he wanted to get closer to the line, and I wouldn’t let him-at least yet. You’re fortunate that you have the propensity to pass out. Some people never do.”
“What kind of animals are you?”
“Before he. . um. . suddenly passed out, Newcomber did tell us he had earmarked the films for you. That’s why I was following you when you drove to Roxbury.”
“What’s so important about those films, anyhow?” Will asked. “Do they show how your cancer center screwed up and diagnosed Grace Davis as having cancer when they weren’t her films?”
Will knew even as he said the words that the explanation really didn’t make sense to him. Almost certainly the mammograms weren’t Grace’s, yet she did, in fact, have breast cancer. One other thing was bothering him. Although he never got the chance to open it, the envelope he had managed to pass over to Lionel was bulky and heavy. It had to contain many more than just one set of mammograms.
“Why we want those films is our business,” Gold said. “And I promise you, we will have them.”
“Why would I want to give them to you when if I do I’m dead?”
“Correction,” Gold said, his pale eyes menacing. “Soon events will transpire that will obviate the need for those X-rays. When that time comes, we will no longer have a need for you, and you will, in fact, become history. However, if you cooperate now and help us remove the chance that those X-rays might surface at an inopportune time, you have my word that you can go free. You will be no threat to us. Anything you say will be your word against ours, and pardon me for saying it, but at present your word isn’t worth too much.”
Will weighed Gold’s logic and found it badly flawed. Regardless of what the man promised, there was no way Will was going to be allowed to leave the farm alive. He steadied himself against the wall and clenched his teeth against the throbbing pain in his fingers. Was there any way he could survive another session with Krause?
“Leave me alone,” he said, with more panic in his voice than he had expected. He held up his hands. “How can you do this?”
Gold sighed theatrically.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “We haven’t time for you to keep passing out on us, so we have decided another approach is called for.”
He returned to the doorway.
“Wat, come on in and put some Band-Aids or something on his fingers. I want him looking and feeling his best for his lovely guest.”
Will’s eyes narrowed as he tried to read beneath Gold’s words.
Jess! his mind shrieked. Jesus, they’ve got Jess!
He stopped himself from screaming anything out loud just in case he was wrong, although using the kids seemed like the sort of thing Gold would have already considered. Massive Watkins lumbered across to him with a first-aid kit, which he opened and set on the small table. The scissors inside were plastic, as were the tweezers. No help there. Will craned his neck to see past Gold and through the doorway.
Hurry up, Gold! Hurry up!
His heart was threatening to pound through his chest wall as Watkins used peroxide, then applied antibacterial cream and a bulky gauze dressing on each finger.
Come on! Come on!
Finally, the giant packed up the kit and returned to Gold.
“You want me to bring her in?” he asked.
“I think it’s time.”
Will gritted his teeth and held his breath. Patty, her head bandaged, eyes patched, nasal oxygen prongs in place, an IV bag resting on the sheet that covered her from neck to ankles, was wheeled into the center of the room on a telescoping ambulance stretcher. The bag attached to her catheter hung down from one of the horizontal struts. She lay motionless, breathing steadily, clearly still in a coma. Will tried not to show how stunned and ill he was feeling. How in the hell had they gotten her out of the ICU?
“What’s this supposed to mean to me?” he managed.
“Sorry, Grant, that doesn’t work. You two have been an item for a while now. Policewoman sleeps with murder suspect. Everyone knows it.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Okay then, if you don’t care, you don’t care. Wat, go find Dr. Krause and tell him I want this woman’s little finger cut off. Tell him not to worry, because she won’t feel it, and besides, she’ll still have nine left.” He turned back to Will. “Next time, though, it could be one of her lips.”
Will felt smothered, unable to breathe.
“Jesus, what kind of monster are you?” he managed.
“Someone who wants information from you and is rapidly running out of patience.”
“You son of a bitch.”
Will knew he was beaten. He gave up his pretense, reached beneath the sheet, and took Patty’s hand in his. At that moment, Krause arrived, his narrow, pockmarked face glowing at the prospect of getting back to work.
“Pretty,” he said, leering down at Patty’s bruised face. “Very pretty. You have work for me?”
“It seems so,” Gold said, feigning a helpless, resigned expression, as if giving Krause the green light to begin mutilating Patty was taxing for him. “Dr. Grant, one last time. Help us get what we need, and I promise you your friend here will be dropped off unharmed someplace where she will be quickly found and taken back to the hospital. I have every reason to despise her, given that she messed up what would have been the greatest shot of my career, but I will release her.”
Will knew that despite Gold’s earlier promise of amnesty for him, there was no chance whatsoever the man would let him live, but with Patty in a deep, possibly irreversible coma, she certainly posed no threat. There had to be a way to stall things until he could think of a deal of some sort that would guarantee she would get safely back to the hospital. His mind was working furiously, sorting through various scenarios. None of them provided any deal on which Gold couldn’t easily renege. At that moment, minutely but unmistakably, Patty squeezed his hand.