Morretti and Costano shared a worried glance. The car was taking corners at breakneck speed. Moretti wanted to get back to the city alive, but there wouldn’t be much chance of that if this crazy bastard didn’t slow down. It was now apparent to everyone involved in this frigging fiasco that you didn’t question anything this nut job did or said. Morretti’s job was on the line, and now his life too, because of this rich fuck. He could see that Connor Hudson’s face was twisted in rage. The man looked ready to tear someone limb from limb. To call him intimidating was an understatement! His face was a purplish red and the veins in his neck were bulging and pulsing. He’d hate to be that lawyer if Hudson ever got his hands on him. They’d come all the way up here only to discover that Pearly had shut down his office for the holiday and was on his way to spend Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania with his in-laws. The receptionist in the accountant’s office next door had provided the information. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to reach him. She did, however, give them the building owner’s number and said he might know the lawyer’s cell phone number. As luck would have it, the owner was out and wouldn’t be back till after three.
Morretti couldn’t understand why Hudson was driving the SUV. There were four vehicles and a well-armed, eight-man security detail in their convoy. Two, Brady and Stipes, he recognized from his visit to the log mansion three months ago. The others he didn’t know. Shouldn’t one of them be driving? Especially since Hudson was having a full-blown, fucking, hissy fit and driving like a maniac. Yet when they’d left the lawyer’s office, and cooler heads should have prevailed, he’d demanded to drive and no one dared tell him no. The man was used to getting his way. But where the hell were they going now? What was he planning to do? Search the whole county for her? The last 10 minutes had consisted of Hudson screaming orders at people over the phone; telling them to check the phone and electric companies, rental and leasing agents, and real estate companies doing business in Ulster County to see if they had any dealings with a Sylvie Jenkins. She was somewhere up here, hiding in the hinterlands of Ulster County, and the crazy son of a bitch was bound and determined to find her. He wasn’t sure what Hudson intended to do if he did locate her. Did he think he was going to force her back to New York City? Did he think he could drag her kicking and screaming against her will? The cops may have behaved like pussies up until now, but there was no way they’d let him do that. Hudson kept saying he wanted her put in protective custody, but it wasn’t gonna happen. It wasn’t his decision to make. Jenkins hadn’t witnessed, nor did she have knowledge of a crime. And she wasn’t in any imminent danger. Yes, there was a serial killer on the loose, but there was nothing to say he was stalking the girl. They had no legal authority to do anything. She’d run away. You can’t detain or lock a person up for that. Observing Hudson’s recent behavior, his hair-trigger temper, and screaming fits, Morretti was beginning to see why the girl left. He must be a real asshole to live with!
Hudson continued to bark orders. ‘I want her found! Do you understand me? Don’t give me excuses! Do your fucking job! Or you won’t have one tomorrow!’
Morretti looked down and pulled his phone from his pocket. He had a couple of bars now. Everybody else was on their phone. Trying to sound proactive, like they were doing something other than spinning their wheels. Why not him? Morretti tapped the keys and got his voice mail. He listened to the first four messages. They were nothing important and he deleted them. But the fifth one was from the Ulster County Sheriff’s office wanting to know about the Ernestine Shaw murder in Manhattan and what Morretti knew about a young woman named Sylvie Jenkins. Holy shit! He quickly wrote down the two numbers where the sheriff could be reached and called the first one. He identified himself and said he was returning the Sheriff’s call. For the first minute or two, Morretti just listened, his eyes showing concern. When Morretti said her name the din in the car suddenly fell silent.
‘Yes! Yes! Everything she said was true. An intruder? Did he actually get in the house?’ He listened intently. ‘So she never got a good look at him?’ There was a long pause. ‘Where is she now? Is she at the house alone?’ Morretti was nodding his head, his jaw clenching, a worried look in his eyes. ‘Can you get a man over to her place right away? Put a protective detail on her until we can get there?’
‘What happened?’ Connor demanded from the front seat. He turned to quickly look over his shoulder. He visibly paled when he saw the expression on Morretti’s face. The car jerked as Brady pulled at the wheel to keep the vehicle from veering off the road. Startled, Connor turned his attention back to the road. But his eyes kept darting anxiously to the rearview mirror.
‘I don’t know,’ Morretti told the sheriff. ‘Bernie, check the GPS and find out where the hell we are.’
Costano fiddled with his phone, tapping and dragging his finger across the screen. When the map appeared, he passed it to his partner.
‘We’re in Boiceville, heading east on Route 28. We just passed the intersection with 28A. What? Yes? Turn around.’ he directed Connor. ‘We have to go south on 28A.’
Connor abruptly pulled onto the shoulder and did a quick U-turn. The other three vehicles promptly followed suit.
‘Yes, I see it on the map: Watson Hollow Road. And from there?’ He nodded. ‘It turns into Peekamoose Road?’ he repeated. ‘What’s the number. Okay I got it. Looks like we’re 16 miles away. We’ll be there in less than half an hour. Can you call us when your man gets to her house. Here’s my cell… Oh sure, sure. No problem. I’ll hold.’ Morretti looked at his partner and shrugged his shoulders.
‘What’s happening?’ Brady asked him. He was on his cell relaying information to the people in the other vehicles.
‘I don’t know. A problem at his office. There were a bunch of people all talking at once in the background. Something about a 911 call that came in 25 minutes ago. The cell tower routed the call to the wrong county. Evidently the sheriff just heard about it. And boy, did he sound pissed!’ Minutes passed before a voice came back on the line. Morretti gasped, the color draining from his face. ‘Are you sure? She said he’s in the house! Have you tried calling her back? What? The phone’s not working? Jesus! Do you have anybody in the area? How quickly can you get a car there? Yes, call me back as soon as you know something. Here’s my number…’
Connor slammed his foot down on the accelerator and the car jolted forward, the speedometer climbing rapidly to over 70 miles an hour. She was only 16 miles away. He could be there in 15 minutes, maybe less. She just had to just stay alive till he got there. Hold on Sylvie! Hold on! I’m coming!
