A Trace of Crime. Блейк Пирс
spoken up so he would be the bearer of that unwelcome information. That way, the rapport and trust Keri was developing with the anxious father wouldn’t be undermined. Keri nodded her imperceptible thanks to her partner. Rainey didn’t seem to notice. She could tell he was agitated by what Ray had said but didn’t object. He moved on.
“So what do I do next?’ he asked Keri, pointedly looking away from Ray.
“Like I said before, after you get the ransom money, drive to the parking lot a block from Chace Park. Then just get out and walk to the bridge between the pergolas. There will be officers in the area but you won’t see them. And it’s not your job to worry about any of that. All you have to do is go to the bridge with the money.”
“What happens when he arrives?” Rainey wanted to know.
“You’re going to ask for your daughter. In theory, he’s going to be under the impression that you’re alone. So it won’t feel right if you just give him the money without a fight. He’d get suspicious. I seriously doubt he’ll have brought her with him. He may give you a location. He might tell you he’ll text you the location once he’s safely away. He might say he’ll FedEx the location – ”
“You don’t think she’ll be there?” Rainey interrupted.
“I’d be very surprised. He’d be giving up all his leverage if he had her with him. His best bet to keep you in line is to keep you in fear for Jessica’s safety. You need to prepare yourself for the likelihood that she won’t be there.”
“I understand. What next?”
“After you express your misgivings about giving up the money, give up the money. Don’t try to negotiate some other plan with him. Don’t try to overpower him. He might be jumpy. He’ll probably be armed. We don’t want to do anything that will cause a confrontation.”
Tim Rainey nodded reluctantly. Keri didn’t like his vibe and decided she needed to be more forceful.
“Mr. Rainey. I need your promise that you won’t do anything foolish. Our best bet is for him to either tell you where to find your daughter or return to her after the drop. Even if he tells you nothing, don’t panic. We will track him. When the time is right, we will apprehend him. If you take matters into your own hands, it could end badly for both you and Jessica. Are we clear on that, sir?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to put Jessica at risk.”
“Of course not,” Keri said reassuringly despite her doubts. “What you will do is complete the drop, return to your car, and drive back here. We’ll deal with everything else as it comes, okay?”
“Will you be putting a microphone on me?” he asked, notably not answering her directly.
“Yes,” Ray said, jumping in again, “and a tiny camera as well. Neither will be noticeable, especially at night. But the camera may help us identify him. And the audio will let us know if you’re in any danger.”
“Will we be able to communicate?”
“No,” Ray told him. “I mean, we’ll obviously be able to hear you. But giving you an earpiece would be risky. He might see it. And we want you to stay focused on what you need to do.”
“One more thing,” Keri added. “There’s a chance he may not show up at all. He could get spooked and back out. He might never have intended to come. Be prepared for that as well.”
“Do you think that’s what going to happen?” Rainey asked. He clearly had never even considered the possibility.
Keri gave him the most truthful answer she could muster.
“I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen. But we’re about to find out.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keri thought she might be sick. It was almost funny. After all, she’d lived on a floating houseboat for several years. But floating on a sailboat in open channel waters while holding binoculars to her eyes for long stretches was a different proposition.
Butch had offered to drop anchor on the Pipsqueak but both Keri and Ray worried that a stationary boat in the water might look suspicious. Of course, a boat aimlessly traipsing back and forth wasn’t much better.
After about fifteen minutes of that, Butch suggested they loiter near a dock across the channel from the park, where at least the other boats would make them stand out less. Keri, uncertain that she could hold off the nausea much longer, jumped at the suggestion.
They found an unoccupied spot and lingered there as midnight drew near. The biting winter wind howled outside. Sitting on the small bench near the window, Keri could hear the water lapping loudly against the hull. She embraced it, trying to match her breathing to its rhythm. She felt the knot in her stomach start to loosen and the sweat on her brow subside a bit.
It was 11:57 p.m. Keri put the binoculars to her eyes again and looked across the water at the park. Ray, several feet over, was doing the same.
“See anything?” Butch asked from up above. He was excited to be a part of a police operation and was having a hard time hiding it. This was probably the most eventful thing to happen to him in years.
He was the same crusty guy she remembered, defined by his weather-beaten skin, his shock of unbrushed white hair, and the perpetual smell of liquor on his breath. Under normal circumstances, operating a boat in his condition was a violation. But she was willing to let it slide considering the situation.
“There are some trees partially blocking the view,” she whispered back loudly. “And it’s hard to see with the glare from the window, even with the lights out down here.”
“I can’t do anything about the trees,” Butch said. “But you know, the windows open part way.”
“I didn’t know that,” she admitted.
“How long did you live on that boat?” Ray asked.
Keri, happily surprised that he was willing to engage in teasing, stuck her tongue out at him before adding, “Apparently not long enough.”
A voice came over their comms, interrupting the most natural moment they’d had all day. It was Lieutenant Hillman.
“All units be advised. This is Unit One. The messenger has the cargo, has parked, and is en route to the destination on foot.”
Hillman was one of the people stationed on the second floor of the Windjammers Club, which had a good vantage point of much of the park, including the bridge. He was using pre-assigned non-specific terms for everyone involved to avoid sharing too much information over communication lines, which always seemed to be hacked by curious citizens who liked to listen in on police traffic. Rainey was the messenger. The bag of money was the cargo. The bridge was the destination. The kidnapper would be referred to as the subject and Jessica would be the asset.
“This is Unit Four. I can see the destination,” Keri said, finally finding an angle with a clear view of the bridge. “There’s no one visible in the vicinity.”
“This is Unit Two,” came the voice of Officer Jamie Castillo, who was playing the role of the homeless woman in the park. “The messenger has just passed my location west of the community building near the cafe. The only other people I see are two homeless individuals. Both of them have been here all afternoon. Both appear to be sleeping.”
“Keep an eye on those individuals, Unit Two,” Hillman said. “We don’t know what the subject looks like. Anything is possible.”
“Copy that, Unit One.”
“I hope you guys can hear me,” a nervous-sounding Tim Rainey whispered loudly into his lavalier microphone. “I’m in the park and headed toward the bridge.”
“Ugh,” Ray muttered under his breath. “Are we going to get a running commentary from this guy?”
Keri scowled at him.
“He’s nervous, Ray. Cut him some slack.”
“All