Touch & Go (Tessa Leoni, #2)(78)
Wyatt turned that around in his head: “So, instead of paying out just the four million in ransom insurance, the company will pay that, plus an extra five from the life insurance policy?”
“Precisely.”
“Nine million in ransom versus ten million in death benefits,” Tessa murmured. “Once again, the captors seem to know a great deal about the Denbes’ personal affairs, including just how high they can go with their ransom demand before capping out.”
“Our theory has always been that the kidnappers are professionals.” Hawkes spoke up, recuing the video. “Given that, it makes sense they’d do their homework before embarking on this enterprise.”
Enterprise. It sounded so clinical, even businesslike, Wyatt thought. Until you looked at Justin’s battered face. The man had been worked over good. A ring of crusty blood still plastered to the hairline at his left temple. His lower lip cut and puffy, his right eye entirely swollen shut. Not to mention a massive bruise on his other cheek, plus half a dozen larger and smaller lacerations combining to form one grotesquely misshapen mess.
Yet, the man had stared into the camera directly and spoken in a firm voice. Still holding up, then. Maybe because the kidnappers were picking on him, and not his wife and daughter? Meaning Justin’s own demeanor was a sort of proof of life for the rest of his family?
“We think she’s pregnant.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but it happened. Staring at Justin’s battered face, wondering if the guy even knew what all was going on within his own family.
“What?” Nicole, clearly surprised.
“The evidence log. Last page, contents from the garbage in the garage trash bin—”
“When did you get a copy of the evidence log?”
Wyatt shrugged, looked her in the eye. “When didn’t you read it?”
Nicole scowled, clearly taking his point. In her defense, it was a thirty-page document, and given everything she had to review as the lead agent. But still…
“One of those stick things from a home pregnancy test,” he continued now, aware of Tessa and Special Agent Hawkes watching him. “Marked positive.”
“You think Libby’s pregnant? But if it came from the trash, it could have been anyone’s.”
Wyatt arched a brow. “You mean like the sixty-year-old housekeeper’s?”
The FBI agent kept her chin up. “Or the daughter’s. She’s fifteen. That’s old enough.”
“True. Any talk of a boyfriend, or sleeping around?”
“Not yet, but that’s not going to be the first piece of knowledge shared by her closest friends. Frankly, interviewing teenage girls is tougher than approaching Mafia henchmen. They’ll either close ranks, or feed you so much gossip you don’t know what to believe. It’s going to take us at least a couple more agents, not to mention several more days to sort all those stories out.”
“In the meantime,” Wyatt stated evenly, “what was good for the gander may have proved good for the goose. Justin cheated on his wife. She cheated back.”
“Ending up pregnant?” She still sounded dubious.
“As well as addicted to Vicodin. Don’t pity those kidnappers.”
Nicole sighed, abruptly rubbed her forehead. “Meaning we possibly have four hostages. God, what a mess. Well then, all the more reason to make this ransom exchange happen. Shall we?” And she gestured once more to the monitor.
“JUSTIN’S INITIAL PHONE CALL WAS SHORT,” Nicole explained now. “Unfortunately, as we hadn’t anticipated a call directly to the insurance company, we didn’t have a phone tap in place. As a matter of protocol, however, the call was recorded. Our audio experts are working on it now, hoping to enhance the background noises in order to assist our efforts. Moving forward, of course, we’ll establish a designated line at the insurance company, as well as get one of our agents in place. Next time around, a professional negotiator should be able to drag out the conversation, allowing us the opportunity to trace it.”
“Why did he call first?” Tessa asked. “Why call, then send a video?”
“Proof of life,” Hawkes provided. “He needed to determine the insurance company’s requirement for ‘credible risk’ of imminent death. You know, what kind of evidence would he need to deliver to support a nine-million-dollar ransom demand?”
Tessa shuddered slightly.
Wyatt agreed: “How does a question like that not lead to chopped-off body parts?” he murmured to no one in particular.
Nicole nodded shortly. “The customer service manager was obviously shaken by the call, but she held up well. She said they would need visual confirmation that Justin and his family were alive. Justin asked if e-mailing a video would suffice. She agreed, but said they’d need evidence the video was real-time, not something that had been previously recorded. They agreed that Denbe would hold up today’s newspaper, SOP for these kinds of situations. Also, the manager gave Justin a code word to use at the beginning and end of the video—Jazz, which apparently is the name of her cockatoo—that way she’d know the footage had been filmed after he’d spoken to her.
“At the end of the call, you can hear Justin mutter that his face should take care of the rest. We presume that means he felt the image of his bruises, lacerations, et cetera, should suffice for evidence of credible risk.”