Chapter 8
696 Words
Chapter 8
The room got colder by the second. The screen of the phone in front of Madeline felt as if it was going to explode. Her head wanted to evaporate.
She knew Zen was going to do something bad. Think fast!
“I was doing some research . . .” she said.
“Don’t you f*****g lie to me again . . .” Zen grabbed the phone and walked toward a door.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got the access . . .” she spoke too fast and stuttered.
Zen walked into another room and tilted the phone so that Madeline could see that Jo was tied to a bed. “You know why she doesn’t scream? Because nobody can hear her from down here. No one can save her but you.”
Tears streamed down Jo’s face. She looked so tired and dazed with drugs.
Madeline wiped at the tears streaming down on her face as well. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Zen. I’m not lying to you about anything. Please don’t hurt her. Yes, I’ve done some research, and I got some information about a possible place of residence for the LeBlancs. I might be able to get an interview tonight with my journalist credentials. Please don’t hurt her!”
Zen tore off Jo’s shirt.
Jo cried. But she did not beg.
“Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever I can tonight to get you the information. I’ll get you the list. No one else knows about this, I swear . . .” Madeline cried.
Zen climbed onto the bed. He grabbed Jo and hitched up her hips.
Madeline screamed into the phone. “Please, don’t! I’ll get you the list.”
Zen turned slowly to the phone. “Then you’d better keep your promise. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”
Zen reached out and turned off the call.
As soon as the phone was off, Madeline slid down to the floor and wept. She had never felt that helpless in her life.
In Ciaran’s office, Lindsay pointed at the computer monitor. The video showed an enlarged picture of the brief case the man was carrying.
“What’s he doing carrying a silencer and hanging around our front gate. I’ve checked the surveillance data. He’s only been there this week. I think he’s waiting for you, Ciaran.”
“Only you and Robert know my schedule. There are much more convenient ways to get to me than lurking at the gate. Plus, I don’t use that gate. If he’s waiting for me there, then he’s an amateur. Not worth our trouble.”
“More convenient ways? Like at home? Man, Robert’d be offended hearing that!”
Ciaran nodded. “Yes, at home, wherever it is,” he muttered. “I’m having dinner with Madeline tonight at One Hyde Park.”
“You what? Holy s**t. She’s a reporter. She must be a corporate spy. They’re the same gang. The guy stalked the gate, and the girl stalked you at home.”
“I don’t think they’re in the same group. He’s her adversary.”
Ciaran rewound the clip. “Pay attention to the handle of his briefcase. See that? He slid the knife out an inch. Probably tried to take her hostage or make her walk to a quiet corner and do whatever he intended to do to her.”
Ciaran enhanced the image on his computer. “He didn’t expect that Madeline would want to shake hands. That forced him change the briefcase to his left hand.”
“But if he’d wanted to kill her, why didn’t he just let her get run over by the bus?” Lindsay asked.
“Too many variables. The bus might brake in time, or she might have been able to get out of the way by herself. Or the accident might not have been fatal. If he wanted to kill her, then he would want to do it himself. Maybe he just wanted to capture her.”
“But why didn’t he follow her afterward?”
“He might have. Not right away because it would be too obvious.”
“I’ll send Robert to the apartment for your dinner tonight then.”
“We’re good friends, but I don’t intend to have dinner with Robert tonight.”
“Ciaran!”
Ciaran laughed. “Okay. I’ll be careful. You can tell Robert, but I don’t want him to hang too close. It’s only a dinner. You think I can’t handle a girl?”
“All right. I’ll call him now,” Lindsay said and exited the room. Ciaran rewound the footage and watched again.
- Writer
