Hold Tight
But they’d spied on him.
That much he now knew. They hadn’t trusted him. That had gotten him furious, but really, when he thought about, had he earned their trust?
So after last night, he panicked. He ran and stayed hidden. He just needed time to think.
“I need to talk to my parents,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Adam looked at him. “Let me use your phone.”
DJ shook his head. Adam took a step toward him and made a fist. “Don’t make me take it from you.”
DJ’s eyes were wet. He held up a hand, took out his cell, and handed it to Adam. Adam dialed home. No answer. He dialed his father’s cell. No answer. He tried his mom’s. Same thing.
DJ said, “Adam?”
He thought about making the call. He had already called her once, staying on long enough to let her know that he was okay and making her swear not to tell his parents.
He dialed Jill’s phone.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Adam? Please come home. I’m so scared.”
“Do you know where Mom and Dad are?”
“Mom is picking me up at Yasmin’s. Dad went to look for you.”
“Do you know where?”
“I think he went to the Bronx or something. I heard Mom say something about that. Something about Club Jaguar.”
Adam closed his eyes. Damn. They knew.
“Listen, I have to go.”
“Where?”
“It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. When you see Mom, tell her you heard from me. Tell her I’m fine and I’ll be home soon. Tell her to reach Dad and get him to come home, okay?”
“Adam?”
“Just tell her.”
“I’m really scared.”
“Don’t worry, Jill, okay? Just keep doing what I say. It’s almost over.”
He hung up and looked at DJ. “You have your car?”
“Yeah.”
“We gotta hurry.”
NASH saw the unmarked police car pull up to the house.
Guy Novak got out. A plainclothes cop started getting out of the car, but Novak waved him off. He reached back into the car, shook the cop’s hand and stumbled in a daze toward the front door.
Nash felt his phone vibrate. He didn’t need to check the incoming number anymore. He knew it would be Joe Lewiston again. He had listened to the first desperate message a few minutes ago:
“Oh God, Nash, what’s going on? I didn’t want that. Please don’t hurt anyone else, okay? Just . . . I just thought you could talk to her or get the video or something. And if you know something about the other woman, please don’t hurt her. Oh God, oh God . . .”
Like that.
Guy Novak entered his house. Nash moved closer. Three minutes later, the front door opened again. A woman came out. Guy Novak’s girlfriend. He kissed her on the cheek. The door closed behind her. The date walked down the path. When she reached the curb, she looked back and shook her head. She might have been crying, but it was hard to tell from here.
Thirty seconds later, she too was gone.
Time was limited now. Somehow Nash had messed up. They had figured out who Marianne was. It was on the news. The husband had been questioned by the police. People think that law enforcement of- ficers are stupid. They are not. They have every advantage. Nash respected that. It was one of the reasons he’d gone through such great lengths to hide Marianne’s identity.
Self-preservation told him to run away, hide, sneak out of the country. But that wouldn’t do. He could still help Joe Lewiston, even if Joe wouldn’t help himself. He would call him later and persuade him to keep quiet. Or maybe Joe would see the light on his own. Joe was panicked right now, but he had, after all, contacted Nash to help in the first place. Maybe he would end up making the smart move.
The itch was there. The crazy, as Nash liked to call it. He knew that there were children in the home. He had no interest in hurting them—or was that a lie? Hard to know sometimes. Humans are all about self-delusion, and Nash wasn’t above wallowing in that overindulgence on occasion.
But on a purely practical level, there was no time to wait. He had to act now. That meant—with the crazy or without it—the children could very well end up collateral damage.
There was a knife in his pocket. He took it out now and held it in his hand.
Nash moved toward Novak’s back door and worked on the lock.
35
ROSEMARY McDevitt sat in her Club Jaguar office, her vest and tattoos now covered by a too-large gray sweatshirt. She swam in it, her hands disappearing into the long sleeves. It made her look smaller, less threatening and powerful, and Mike wondered if that was the point. She had coffee in front of her. Mike had one too.
“The cops put a wire on you?” she asked.
“No.”
“You mind giving me your cell phone, just to be sure?”
Mike shrugged and tossed it to her. She turned it off and left it on the desk between them.
Her knees were up on the chair, again disappearing into the sweatshirt. Mo was outside, waiting in the car. He hadn’t wanted Mike to do this, fearing a trap, but he also knew that they had no choice. This was the best lead they had on Adam.
Mike said, “I don’t really care about what you’re doing in there, except in how it relates to my son. Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“When did you last see him?”
She looked up at him with doe-brown eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was being worked here or not, but it didn’t much matter. He wanted answers. He could play the game back if that helped.
“Last night.”
“Where exactly?”
“Downstairs at the club.”
“He came here to party?”
Rosemary smiled. “I don’t think so.”
He let that go. “You talked to him by instant message, didn’t you? You’re CeeJay8115.”
She did not reply.
“You told Adam to stay quiet and it’d be safe. He messaged you that he’d been approached by Spencer Hill’s mother, right?”
Her knees were still up on the chair. She wrapped her arms around them. “How would you know so much about his private messages, Dr. Baye?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“How did you follow him to Club Jaguar last night?”
Mike said nothing.
“Are you sure you want to travel down this road?” she asked.
“I don’t think I have a choice.”