24 Hours

“Let Hickey sleep until six,” he said, not wanting her anywhere close to the man now. “But if he hasn’t made another call by then, you’ll have to get him up and on the phone to Huey. Throw a fit. Tell him you won’t wire the money unless you have proof that Abby’s okay.”

“I will.”

They sat in silence for another few moments; then Karen whispered good-bye and clicked off.

When five-thirty rolled around, the phone didn’t ring.

Now it was six, and still the telephone was silent. Had Karen tried to wake Hickey? Was she trying now? Or had she succeeded, only to find herself having to submit to him to keep Abby alive?

The black sky over the gulf had changed imperceptibly to indigo. Dawn would soon break over the shrimp boats and the deep-sea fishermen heading out past the barrier islands. Will could almost see the Western hemisphere whirling eastward into the sun, like some cutting-edge CNN commercial filmed by Stanley Kubrick. Only Kubrick was dead now. And if Hickey didn’t start making his check-in calls again, Abby might soon be, too.

The ringing telephone stopped his breath in his throat. He darted over to the sofa and prodded Cheryl, who was snoring softly. She rubbed her eyes, picked up the phone, then nodded to indicate that it was Hickey on the phone. She said her usual “Everything’s cool,” then signed off. Her eyes had the dull sheen of sleep deprivation. Will looked back at her without speaking, and in a few seconds her eyes closed.

Two minutes later, the phone rang again.

Like an automaton, Cheryl stirred and started to answer, but Will grabbed the receiver first. “Hello?”

“Harley Ferris, Will.”

“What have you got?”

“The Hazlehurst target switched on his cell phone just before six. The subject in your house made a landline call that went through the Hazlehurst tower just after six. The call lasted sixteen seconds, and the trace target switched off his phone immediately after the call.”

“Where do we stand?”

“My man down there has narrowed the search area to about seven square miles.”

“I had that before I called you!”

“No, you didn’t. You said ten or fifteen miles west of Hazelhurst, on a logging road. That could describe an area as large as twenty-five square miles.”

Will groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m going crazy here. You haven’t notified anyone official, have you?”

“No. But it’s long past time we did.”

“Not yet. Please, not yet.”

“These are very short calls, Doctor. We’re looking at a minimum tracing time of an hour from now. And that’s if the subject keeps making these check-in calls on the half hour. What if he skips another one? What if he skips two?”

God forbid. “Calling the FBI has to be my decision, Harley. We’ve still got some time. There’s nothing the FBI could be doing right now that we can’t. You have all my numbers.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so, too.”

He hung up and sat beside Cheryl on the sofa. She slept with her mouth open, and her snores were as regular as a metronome.

“Wake up,” he said.

She opened her eyes but didn’t turn her head.

“I don’t think Joe would kill Abby or Karen until he knew he had his money. Do you agree?”

She swallowed like someone with a bad case of cottonmouth, then nodded and closed her eyes again. So much for reassurances. Will got up and walked back to the window.

Dawn was coming, a lighter blue hovering in the indigo, far to his left. What he had taken for pale cloud formations was actually the diffuse light of the sun making its way between much darker clouds, and the narrow strip of beach he had watched all night was resolving itself into a thin, rocky breakwater. There was no beach here. The gulf’s waves actually spent themselves against the marina beneath the casino.

“Think with your head, Joe,” he said softly. “Not your heart. Think about the money, not your mother. The money’s what you want. The money…”

FIFTEEN

Karen felt hands on her body and screamed.

“Shut up!” snapped a male voice. “It’s time to get up.”

She blinked her eyes and saw Hickey leaning over her. He was shaking her shoulders. “What happened?” she asked, trying to collect her thoughts.

“You fell asleep.”

Two facts registered with frightful impact. First, Hickey was dressed. Second, daylight was streaming through the bedroom curtains. “God, no,” she breathed, unable to accept the idea that she’d fallen asleep while Abby’s life was in jeopardy. But she had. “What time is it?”

“Time to shower and doll yourself up for the Man. Fix your face.”

Her eyes went to the digital clock on her bedside table. 8:02 A.M. Two hours had passed since she last woke Hickey for a check-in call. What had happened in the interim? If Will had succeeded in finding Abby, Hickey wouldn’t be standing here telling her to shower and get dressed.

“Is it time to get Abby?”

“You mean, get the money. Play your part right, then you get Abby back.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s still asleep. I just talked to Huey.” Hickey turned and walked into the bathroom.