Silent Night 2 Page 7

  Yes.

  Danny squinted through the bright red, saw her clearly. Saw her come near. Nearer.

  Yes!

  The pain shot through him. It felt as if someone were tightening a thick rubber band around the top of his head. Tighter. Tighter.

  Glaring into the red, he crept up behind her.

  He raised the black wool coat.

  I’ve got you now, he thought, struggling against the pain, against the rage that roared through every muscle.

  I’ve got you now, Reva.

  I hope I don’t have to do anything terrible.

  Chapter 17

  GOTCHA!

  Staring into the rearview mirror, Diane watched the grim-faced officer approach. He had his dark blue cap pulled low over his forehead. His hands were in gloves, one resting on the handle of his nightstick, the other swinging at his side.

  This isn’t happening, Diane thought, her throat choked with panic. She forced herself to start breathing again.

  This can’t be happening.

  Oh, please. Please—walk by the car. Keep right on walking. Please.

  But no. He tapped on her window.

  Diane reached for the knob and lowered the window halfway, her entire body shaking. Her chin quivered, out of control. She wondered if he could see it.

  “What are you doing here, miss?” he asked. His voice was high and thin. It didn’t match his heavy body or hard, solemn face at all.

  “Uh . . . nothing.” She couldn’t think straight. She could barely speak.

  She glanced toward the loading dock.

  What if Danny came running out with the girl right now?

  They’d both be caught.

  “Why are you parked here?” the officer asked, lowering his head to the window, his gray-green eyes exploring the front seat of the car.

  “Uh . . . I’m waiting for someone,” Diane managed to choke out.

  She glanced at the wide doors again. Don’t come out, Danny. Don’t come out now.

  “I’m sorry,” the officer said, frowning. “You’ll have to move.”

  “He’ll be out in a minute,” Diane insisted in a trembling voice. “Really.”

  “There’s a parking lot over there,” he said, pointing a black glove in the direction Diane had come. “You’ll have to wait there.”

  “But, sir—?”

  “Sorry.” His eyes narrowed at her. “There’s no waiting back here. Move it. Now.”

  • • •

  Fighting back the waves of pain at his temples, Danny lifted the heavy coat in both hands.

  The floor shimmered like a pool of water. Red then gray. Red then gray.

  Moving quickly, Danny crept up behind her.

  She stopped suddenly.

  He nearly bumped into her.

  Swallowing hard, struggling to see through the curtain of red, he pulled the coat down over her head.

  Her arms shot up. The boxes she’d been carrying fell noisily to the floor.

  Danny glanced around. No one in sight.

  She tried to scream, but he wrapped the coat tightly over her face. Her cry came out a muffled whimper.

  She twisted and squirmed.

  He gave her a hard shove forward, wrapping his arm around the coat, holding it tight around her head.

  “Don’t fight me!” he murmured, surprised at his own fury. “Don’t fight me!”

  But she bent in half, trying to duck out from under the coat. Her arms flailed. She uttered another muffled cry of protest.

  “Stop it!” Danny cried in a loud, angry whisper. He shot his fist into her back.

  She gasped, startled by the pain.

  It took her only a few seconds to recover. Then she tried spinning around, twisting out of his grip.

  The coat started to slip.

  Danny leaned against her, holding the coat down over her. He drove his free hand hard into her back again. He pushed her toward the open door, shoving with his shoulder, holding on to the coat.

  She stiffened her legs, tried to push back. Her shoes skidded against the concrete.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Danny cried furiously, feeling himself losing control. “You want to get hurt? I’ll hurt you!”

  One hard blow knocked the girl unconscious.

  Then, wrapping the coat tightly over her upper body, Danny held her around the waist and dragged her to the car.

  Chapter 18

  MILLIONAIRES

  The officer glared at Diane. “Did you hear me?”

  Diane stared back at him, frantically thinking. What can I do? she asked herself. I can’t leave this spot. If Danny comes out dragging Reva, and I’m not here . . .

  “My . . . uh . . . father is very sick,” she stammered. “He works here. In the stockroom. I have to take him to the hospital. That’s why I stopped back here. He’ll be out in one second. If you’ll only let me—”

  “You can wait over there, young lady,” the officer interrupted. “I’m getting a little tired of repeating myself. Now, put the car in gear and pull over to the $$$not. Don’t make me write out a ticket.”

  Diane swallowed hard. Her throat felt as if it were clogged with sand. “Sorry, sir.”

  She glanced to the platform. No sign of Danny. Thank goodness. Reluctantly, she started to shift the car into gear.

  I can’t believe this is happening, she thought miserably. I can’t believe our plans are being messed up for a third time.

  A wave of sadness swept over her.

  Loser. The word flared into her mind. I’m a loser.

  Pres and Danny and I, we’re all losers.

  Slowly, with the police officer still hovering over the car, she began to pull away.

  A loud crash—the crunch of metal hitting metal, followed by shattering glass—made her stop.

  “Oh, no!” she cried.

  At first Diane thought she had hit something. It took her a second to realize the crash had come from the parking lot.

  She heard angry voices. Shouts and curses.

  “I’ve got to go over there!” the officer shouted, reaching for his nightstick. “You be gone when I get back—hear?”

  Diane stuck her head out the window, watching him run toward the shouting voices.

  “Yes!” she cried gleefully. Some luck. Some good luck. She finally had some good luck.

  She jumped when the back door suddenly swung open. “Hey—” She had been so involved with the police officer, she hadn’t watched for Danny.

  “Go! Go! Go!” he shouted.

  She turned to the backseat to see him shove Reva into the car. The heavy coat was draped over Reva’s head. She didn’t move.

  What has he done to her? Diane wondered. “Danny, did you—?”

  “Just knocked her out,” Danny replied, breathing hard.

  Danny shoved Reva across the seat and slid in beside her. He kept his arm around her shoulder, holding the coat over her. “Go! Go! Go!” he repeated, slamming the car door, then leaning close to Reva, pressing her against the seatback in case she came to.

  “I don’t believe it! You . . . got her!” Diane cried.

  “Shut up and drive!” Danny raged.

  Gripping the wheel tightly with both hands, Diane pulled away from the platform. The car shot forward as she plunged her foot all the way down on the gas pedal and turned toward the street.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, she searched for the policeman. She had a frightening vision of him chasing after them.

  But there was no one.

  She pulled onto the street, the threadbare tires squealing, and turned toward the highway that led to Waynesbridge.

  “We did it!” she cried gleefully. “I don’t believe it! We did it!”

  Danny grinned at her, still holding the coat tightly over Reva’s head. “We’re going to be millionaires!” he exclaimed. “Millionaires!”

  “Just like in the movies!” Diane declared.

  If only Pres could be here, she thought, feeling a twinge of sadness. If on
ly Pres could enjoy this too.

  But soon they would get Pres out. Soon Pres would be back with them.

  And they would be rich, richer than they had ever dreamed.

  Christmas was almost here. What a great Christmas it was going to be.

  Millionaires. That’s what we’ll be—millionaires, Diane thought, so excited she drove through a stop sign.

  Dalby will gladly fork over a million to get his precious daughter back.

  We’ve done it! Just like in the movies!

  And now nothing can go wrong.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 19

  A SLIGHT PROBLEM

  “I think we’ve made Dalby squirm enough,” Diane said, taking the last bite of her peanut butter sandwich.

  Danny chuckled. He tossed down the old copy of Sports Illustrated he’d been flipping through. “Yeah. We’ve had the girl here a full day,” he said, gesturing to the bedroom. “I’ll bet Dalby’s squirming.”

  “I wanted to wait at least twenty-four hours,” Diane said, carrying the plate over to the small sink and running cold water over it. “Sometimes rich people are so busy making money, they don’t know if their family is missing or not.”

  Danny pushed himself up from the chair and stretched, a bulge of white belly showing under his olive-colored pullover. “One day is enough. Dalby is probably waiting by the phone, sweating bullets, waiting for our call.”

  “I hope so,” Diane said, setting the dish beside the sink. She dried her hands on a paper towel. “Dalby’s daughter is a total pain.”

  “Yeah. Can you imagine? She won’t eat and she won’t say a word,” Danny said, shaking his head.

  “She better not say a word!” Diane exclaimed, shooting him a nervous glance. “You tightened the gag, right?”

  Danny nodded. “I checked everything. She’s tied up, blindfolded, and gagged. The works.”

  “Just make sure she doesn’t work the gag loose. I don’t want a sound coming out of her,” Diane said, pulling on her coat. “You know how thin the walls are in this dump.”

  “Guess you’ll be moving into a big, fancy house,” Danny said, teasing her. “With a maid and a butler and a chauffeur.”

  Diane didn’t find his remarks amusing. “I won’t be eighteen for another four months,” she told him. “I’ve got to keep the money a secret until then, or my parents will try to grab it.”

  Danny tsk-tsked. “Where you going? I thought you were going to call Dalby and tell him how he can get his daughter back.”

  “I am,” she replied sharply. “But you don’t expect me to call from here, do you? They’ll trace the call and pick us up in ten minutes flat!”

  Danny turned his glance to the window. “Yeah. I knew that. I was just testing you.” He picked up the Sports Illustrated. “Know what I’m going to do when I get my share? I’m going to get a tattoo.”

  “You always had a lot of class,” Diane said dryly. She zipped her coat and started to the door.

  “Wonder why we haven’t heard from Pres,” Danny muttered, his face buried in the magazine.

  “Shh. No names!” Diane said sharply, motioning to the bedroom. “I wonder too.” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Hope he didn’t get into more trouble in the detention center.”

  “Maybe they found out about that car he stole,” Danny said.

  “Huh?” Diane turned around in surprise. “I never heard about that.”

  Danny blushed. He avoided her stare. “Oh. Well. He only borrowed it for a little bit. He didn’t really steal it.”

  Diane laughed. “Well, he could have offered me a ride in it! I’m getting sick of the old Plymouth.”

  “You can buy five cars,” Danny muttered. “After we trade Reva in.”

  Diane glanced toward the bedroom. “Just keep an eye on her, Danny. I know you plan to take a nap the minute I leave. But watch her, okay? We don’t want any slipups now, you know?”

  “Yeah. Okay, okay,” he growled, scratching his head. “I’ll watch her. Go make the call already. I’m getting old, sitting here.”

  Diane made her way out the door, closing it carefully behind her. She stepped out into a bright, clear day that felt more like September than December. The ground was spotted with patches of old snow, one of the few signs that it was winter.

  She bent to pet the head of an old hound dog that always hung around the apartment building. “Who do you belong to?” she asked it, rubbing its damp fur. “Or do you own this joint?” The old dog wagged its tail slowly in reply.

  Diane climbed into the car. It took three tries to get the engine to grind to a start. Then she headed to the Division Street Mall, where she planned to find a secluded phone booth to make her call.

  The car radio was broken, but Diane didn’t need it. She hummed happily to herself, tapping her hands on the wheel, rehearsing for the thousandth time in her mind what she planned to say to Mr. Dalby.

  • • •

  Robert Dalby, Reva’s father, shifted uncomfortably in his armchair. He lowered his copy of the Wall Street Journal and stared into the fireplace, watching the flames jump and dance.

  With a weary sigh he picked up the newspaper and began to read again.

  When the phone on the table beside him rang, he let out a startled cry. He fumbled for the receiver, knocking over his small glass of sherry.

  The liquid formed a brown puddle on the polished tabletop. Ignoring it, Mr. Dalby managed to grab up the receiver on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Is this Robert Dalby?” A young woman’s voice.

  “Yes. Speaking.”

  “Mr. Dalby,” said the young woman, very stern and businesslike, “I . . . uh . . . I have your daughter. She’s okay and everything. I . . . I called to tell you what you need to do to get her back. It will cost you a million dollars, see. Don’t worry. We have your daughter, safe and sound.”

  “No, you don’t,” Robert Dalby replied. “My daughter, Reva, is sitting right here with me.”

  Chapter 20

  NOT REVA

  Mr. Dalby stared into the fire as he listened to the gasp on the other end. He could hear voices in the background, the clink of plates and silverware. The caller must be in a restaurant somewhere, he realized.

  He struggled to recognize the voice.

  Was it a voice he had heard before? Was it a girl who had worked for him? Who still worked for him?

  He didn’t recognize her. All he could tell was that she was nervous. And young.

  Reva had gotten up from her chair by the fire and stood beside him, listening to his conversation. “Daddy—?”

  Mr. Dalby raised a finger to silence her.

  Reva placed an arm on the back of her father’s chair and leaned close, trying to hear the voice on the other end.

  “Mr. Dalby, would you repeat what you just said?” Diane demanded in a trembling voice.

  She stood in a narrow phone booth at the back of the Doughnut Hole restaurant at the Division Street Mall. The door to the booth would close only halfway, so she stood with her back to the restaurant.

  “I said that my daughter, Reva, is home with me,” Mr. Dalby repeated gruffly.

  In the cramped phone booth Diane shuddered. The walls closed in on her. Everything went dark. A heavy feeling of cold dread made her feel as if she were about to faint.

  Or scream.

  Was Dalby telling the truth?

  Was he trying some kind of stupid trick?

  “Mr. Dalby, don’t play games with us,” she managed to say in a tight, shrill voice.

  “Whoever you are, listen to me!” Robert Dalby shouted.

  “Mr. Dalby—”

  “Let that girl go!” Dalby sputtered into the phone. “That girl is not my daughter. You will not get a penny from me. You have kidnapped the wrong girl!”

  PART TWO

  ANOTHER

  KIDNAPPING

  Chapter 21

  “WE HAVE TO

  KILL HER”

  Pam
had been struggling against the cords that bound her wrists. But her efforts only made them cut deeper into her skin.

  She let her body go limp and struggled to slow her breathing. Pain shot up her legs from where her ankles were tightly tied. Her throat ached behind the gag.

  Where am I? Why are they keeping me here so long?

  What are they going to do to me?

  The questions wouldn’t go away. As hard as she struggled to force them from her mind, they kept coming back. And with the questions came a rising panic that choked her and sent shiver after cold shiver down her body.

  Why did they kidnap me? What do they want with ME?

  All at once Pam knew the answer to those questions.

  They didn’t want me. They wanted Reva. My millionaire cousin.

  Reva. Reva. Reva.

  The name burned more cruelly than the pain at her wrists and ankles.

  This is Reva’s fault, Pam thought bitterly. This has to be Reva’s fault.

  No one would want to kidnap me. They had to want Reva.

  Reva. Reva. Reva.

  Pam repeated the name until it became an ugly chant.

  And now will I have to DIE because of Reva?

  A tingling sensation crept up her back. It felt as if a thousand tiny insects were crawling all over her.

  Pam tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. If they don’t loosen this gag, I’m going to choke to death, she thought.

  For the thousandth time she rubbed her head against the pillow, trying to slide the blindfold off. But it wouldn’t budge.

  Reva. Reva. Reva.

  They wanted Reva. But they got me.

  Pam could hear the two of them fighting about it in the next room. There was a girl and a guy, she knew that much.

  She hadn’t been able to catch their names. They had been very careful about not saying their names. The girl sounded young, Pam thought. A teenager, maybe. The guy—she couldn’t tell. He was loud and vulgar, and he always sounded angry.

  He sounded very angry now. They were moving around noisily in the other room, pacing back and forth.