The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(49)

“Just do what I say and no one gets hurt.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Nathan repeated, anger and dominance permeating his tone.

And this was another moment where Orlando’s guidance would prove useful. Nathan was likely a man of importance; perhaps a vice president or even a CEO. Someone accustomed to being in charge, calling the shots. Directing people around.

Marcks reached into his pocket and drew the knife out. He held it up. He did not slap it against the girl’s neck. He did not raise his voice.

Cassie began crying. She squirmed but Marcks held her against his body with a vise-like grip. He brought his right hand, which held the Henkel blade, against her mouth.

“I’m the man holding your wife and daughter at knife point. I’m the man you’re going to listen to, the man you’re going to be courteous to. Got it, Nathan?”

Nathan’s eyes widened. His breathing became shallower, his bravado replaced by fear for his family’s well-being. “Just—just put my daughter down. Let my wife leave with my daughter.”

“Victoria and Cassie aren’t going anywhere,” Marcks said. He knew that using their names, thereby showing familiarity with Nathan’s family, would be unnerving. Questions would be darting through his thoughts: what else did he know about them? Had he been stalking them? What was this about?”

“What jewelry and cash do you have in your house?”

“I—I, uh—”

“Do not lie to me,” Marcks said. “Victoria and I have already been through this. Tell him, Vicky.”

“Tell him the truth,” she stammered. “And he won’t hurt any of us.”

Marcks turned back to Nathan and tilted his head. “And your answer is?”

“We’ve got some diamond rings here. Nothing big. And about two hundred in cash.”

“That’s it?” Marcks shouted it, scaring Cassie again. “Quiet,” he said, squeezing the girl tighter.

“How much do you usually withdraw when you go to the bank?”

“I—I don’t know, it varies.”

“What’s the most?”

Nathan looked to Victoria. Clearly she was the one who took care of the banking chores.

“Five thousand,” she said.

Marcks shifted his weight and looked at Cassie. “I’m going to release my hand. You are not to cry or scream or yell. If you do, I’ll hurt you. Understand?”

She began whimpering but did not say anything.

“Did you hear me?” he said firmly.

“Yes.”

He removed his hand from her mouth and pointed the knife at Nathan. “Get over there with your wife.”

Nathan complied and Victoria nearly jumped into his arms.

Back to Victoria: “How often have you withdrawn five grand?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sniffle, her eyes riveted to Cassie. “Twice, maybe.”

“Did it draw attention? Did they ask you about it?”

“Not on our account,” Nathan said. “Five thousand isn’t a big deal.”

“I asked Victoria, Nathan. Keep your mouth shut.”

Marcks looked at Victoria and lifted his brow.

“Like Nathan said. It’s not a problem.”

“Okay.” Still holding Cassie, Marcks paced down the hallway, turned, and walked back. “Victoria, you’re going to go in there and withdraw four thousand dollars.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“And why are you taking the money out?” Marcks asked.

“Why?” Nathan asked. “Because you’re holding us hostage.”

“Wrong f*ckin’ answer, Nathan. See, you say something stupid like that and cops’ll come here and I’ll kill you and your daughter.” He turned to Victoria. “Now I’ll ask again. And I want you to answer. Why are you withdrawing this money?”

“We—we’re doing some landscape work and the contractor wanted to be paid in cash because he had to lay out the money for the trees he planted.”

Marcks shook his head. “In the dead of winter, with snow on the ground? You planted trees?”

“I—I, uh, we had new carpeting installed.”

Marcks grinned slyly. “Very good, Victoria. Very good. And how far away is the bank?”

“Fifteen minutes. At most. Probably twelve.”

Marcks nodded slowly. “Let’s both check the time.” He gestured at the digital radio-controlled clock hanging in the kitchen. “You can get there and make the withdrawal before they close. Be back here in forty minutes.”

“What—what if I’m late? It’s rush hour. I can’t control—”

“I’m a reasonable guy, Victoria. Tell you what. If you’re late, I won’t kill your daughter. Or your husband.” He held up the knife. “But I will chop off one finger of Nathan’s right hand for every five minutes you’re past due. Fair enough?”

Victoria’s mouth dropped open and tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m talking to you, Victoria. Fair enough?”

She nodded quickly, words still too difficult to form in her hysterical state.

“Good. Give me your cell phone.”