Best Laid Plans(120)

“Where’s Mrs. Everett and her daughter?” Lucy asked.

“They are none of your concern,” Peter said.

Lucy stared at the boy. He was scared out of his mind, but he kept glancing at the large, curving split staircase that branched off the foyer.

Either a third bad guy was upstairs with the other two hostages, or the girls were restrained.

“Are they okay?” Lucy asked.

“For now,” Peter said. “Agent Donnelly, your reputation precedes you. Not so tough, really, not in person. Please have a seat.”

“I’ll stand,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Sit.” Peter motioned to one of the dining chairs. “Now.”

Slowly, Brad sat.

“Joyce, take those cuffs,” he gestured to where she’d put them on the table, “and put them on Agent Donnelly.”

The woman complied as if she were used to taking orders.

“Peter,” Lucy said, “you now have two federal agents as hostages. Let the Everett family go.”

He laughed. “Right. Sure. You don’t have the control here. No one is leaving until I get the call. Understood?” He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Quarter after nine. It shouldn’t be much longer.” He smiled. “But this really is a coup. Both of you here together.”

“You work for Tobias.” Lucy needed to keep him talking. Not just to learn information, but to buy time. Barry would soon figure out that something was wrong. And when the agents arrived at Everett’s office, they would know he was under duress.

Peter didn’t say anything, so Lucy asked, “Where’s Elise?”

“Not here.”

“Is she with Everett?”

Peter didn’t answer. A thump came from upstairs. He frowned and said, “Joyce, check on them.”

Joyce picked up one of the guns and went upstairs.

That told Lucy there was no one with the mom and daughter. Just Joyce and Peter.

Peter hadn’t told her to sit down, so she remained standing in the middle of the foyer. She caught the Everett boy’s eye and tried to reassure him, but he was shaking.

Peter pulled out a phone. He sent a text message, probably to Elise or Tobias announcing that he had Lucy and Brad at gunpoint.

This was just getting better and better.

Joyce returned a minute later. “They’re fine,” she said.

“What made the noise?” Peter asked.

“The headboard against the wall,” Joyce said. “I triple-checked them. I swear.”

Lucy was trying to assess Peter. She thought back to when she’d met him at the hospital, when he came in asking about Elise’s welfare, like a good citizen. In hindsight, he’d been too interested, hanging on every word. He wasn’t the leader—he was smart, but not like Elise. He wasn’t as shrewd or calculating. She made a judgment call and said, “Peter, Elise isn’t coming back for you.”

“She’s not coming back at all,” he said. “Do you think she’s stupid? She said you’d come here to check on the family as soon as she disappeared from the hospital. I don’t know how she knew it, but she was right.” Peter glowed like a proud lover. Did he think that Elise actually cared about him?

Lucy was surprised as well. Such a deduction showed not only intelligence, but keen psychological interpretation. Far beyond a normal sixteen-year-old.

But nothing about Elise Hansen was normal.

“She didn’t know about him, however,” Peter said, glaring at Brad.

“What I meant to say is, as soon as Elise gets what she wants, she’s going to disappear and you’ll be left here with five hostages.”

“You know shit.” He glanced at the clock.

He was definitely waiting for something. Probably for Elise to call. Then he would either kill them all and disappear, or tie them up and disappear.

Except Elise wasn’t going to call. Elise was using Peter Rabb just like she’d used Robert Garza and James Everett and even Mona Hill. Lucy understood her much better now—and her growing knowledge terrified her.

“Peter,” Lucy said, “let the boy go.”

“Sure,” he said.

Lucy almost breathed easier.

Then Peter burst out in laughter. “When pigs fly.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN



Elise Hansen sat in the chair and played with the knife. She was ambidextrous, which helped, but she preferred her right hand. But it would be a while before she’d be able to use her arm, and she didn’t even have mobility with the broken wrist.

It sucked.

But if she wanted, she could still throw the knife at the fat sniveling perverted asswipe and pierce his heart.

When he was done transferring the money.

She yawned. “It’s been forty minutes, dumbass. Are you f*cking with us? Because if you are, I’ll call Pete and he’ll kill your boy.”

“Don’t. Please. I’m doing everything you want.”

The turd was sweating. Seeing him sweat and squirm and beg had been fun at the beginning, but now she just wanted to be done with him.

She looked over her shoulder. “Jay? How much do we have?”

“Three point one million.”

She sighed and leaned forward. Her body was sore from when the fed had knocked her down, “saving” her life. And Toby was mad that Elise hadn’t known she was wearing a vest! How was she supposed to know? Was she supposed to feel her up? Right. And even if she had known, how was she supposed to get that tidbit of information to the idiots Toby had hired to kill the bitch? Why didn’t they shoot her in the head? She didn’t have a bulletproof skull.