Chapter Five
Jon
walked out of the Newton Community Church building and into the mid–morning air
still humming the last song the band had played. Who knew churches had bands
with electric guitars, electric piano and mean drums? Tabby’s church was
nothing like the one his mother had dragged him to when he was a kid. Mom’s
church had been somber and depressing with hymns sung to an out–of–tune organ
and uninteresting sermons.
Today
had been a different experience. The pastor had talked about setting one’s hope
in Jesus rather than the material items of this world. A theme Jon had heard
before, yes. But the presentation of the message wasn’t one of judgment and
condemnation for having material possessions, but rather that this world’s
pleasures could be gone in a heartbeat. Whereas hope could never be taken away.
For some reason Jon found that very
comforting.
"Thank
you for coming with me," Tabby said as she slipped her arm through his.
"I really needed that today."
He
smiled at her, liking the way the winter sun touched her golden hair as they
made their way across the parking lot to his sedan. "I enjoyed it. I might
come with you again if you’ll let me tag along."
She
beamed. "Of course you can. I’d love that."
And
for some reason pleasing her pleased him.
…
Monday
morning Tabby was a nervous wreck. All night she’d dreamed of Beth, the dreams
mixing with old memories and awful scenarios. She awoke feeling more anxious
than ever before. She couldn’t eat the wonderful scones Mrs. Marsh served. Even
the gourmet coffee didn’t appeal.
Jon
was on the phone talking with the bank when the man from Trent Associates
returned. Tabby wasn’t sure what to make of the young man with his nearly white
hair and tanned skin. He looked like he should be out catching a wave on some
tropical beach rather than sitting on Jon’s couch.
Yesterday
when they’d explained the situation, he’d jotted down notes in a notebook much
the way the two homicide detectives had when they’d questioned her and Jon
about the dead man in Jon’s suite.
Shuddering
at the memory, Tabby now asked, "Do you think the kidnappers killed that
poor man?"
"Most
likely. Though why…" Kyle shrugged his wide shoulders. "Maybe he was motivation to get you to
cooperate."
"It
worked," she mumbled. "What about the security guard?"
"The
police found him unconscious in the janitor’s closet," Jon said as he
joined them in the living room. "Someone hit him from behind."
"Poor
man," Tabby said.
"The
bank will have the money ready by eleven," Jon said. "What’s the plan,
Kyle?"
"This
is how we’ll play it. Once you get the cash, I’ll rig it with a tracking
device," Kyle said.
Tabby
frowned. "Won’t they expect that?"
Kyle
grinned. "They’ll never find it."
"Are
you sure?" she asked. Worry that something would go wrong and her sister
would end up dead gnawed at her stomach.
Kyle
gave her a patient look. "I’ve done this many times. Trust me. There’s no
way they’ll find the device. Plus, you’ll be wearing an audio wire and a video
camera."
Jon
took her hand. The warmth of his skin next to hers was reassuring and calming.
"So then we’ll go wherever the money ends up and find her sister?"
"In
theory. But we’ll also have a team of people in place to follow the pickup
person." He handed Tabby a manila envelope. "Here’s your phone back.
I made some modifications so we can hear the conversation when they call and
also do a trace."
"This
is all so overwhelming," she said, feeling a tad light–headed.
"We’ll
get through this," Jon reassured her.
"So
when they call, what do I do after I get my instructions?" she asked.
"Oh,
you won’t be taking the call," Jon said. "I’ll be making the
drop."
"But
they’re expecting me. I don’t want to put Beth at risk."
"They
won’t be surprised to see me since they already know I’m providing the
money."
"They
said I had to be the one," she said, hating the thought of something
happening to Jon, too.
"I’m
not letting you put yourself in danger," he said, his tone adamant.
"Isn’t
that why we called Trent Associates, to minimize the danger?"
"She’s
right," Kyle interjected. "It’s better if she makes the drop."
"I
don’t like it," Jon said as he ran his free hand through his hair. "There’s no way to control the
situation. We should call the FBI."
Jon’s
obvious upset and desire to protect her touched and pleased Tabby deeply. She
squeezed his hand. "I trust God will protect me."
Jon
met her gaze. Worry reflected in his dark eyes. "I wish I had that kind of
faith."
"You
could," she said softly, sensing the need to tread lightly. She didn’t
want to push him to believe. He needed to want it from his heart. "God is
waiting for you to invite Him in."
For
a moment Jon stared at her as if trying to comprehend her words. Then he
brought her knuckles to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. "Let’s
hope your trust isn’t misplaced."
"It’s
not," she whispered, her eyes riveted to his well–formed mouth. Longing to lean closer and kiss him hit her
like a blast of winter air, shocking in its intensity. His gaze held hers, his
eyes darkening as if he could read her thoughts. Heat rose up her neck but she
couldn’t look away. For a second she
thought he moved, his head dipping slightly.
Kyle
cleared his throat, shattering the moment into a million pieces.
Whoa.
She really had to get a grip. Jon was her boss. And getting involved with him
was not on her list of goals in life. No matter how much her heart wished
otherwise.
…
"Please,
be careful," Jon said to Tabby before she left the safety of the plain
white van parked a half a block from the Fenway Park T stop. The thought of
something happening to her sent dread and anxiety rushing through his veins.
His stomach was a mess of knots and his shoulder muscles were pulled so tight
he could barely move.
She
gave him a small smile that barely wobbled. "I will."
Admiration
for her brave front galvanized him to capture her hand and pull her close for a
kiss. She gasped slightly before melting against him. He put all the worry and
affection clogging his veins into the kiss. When finally he eased up, he rested
his forehead against hers. "Come back to me."
Her
blue eyes were a bit glazed as she touched his cheek before stepping away.
From
the cab of the van, Kyle said, "Can you hear me, Tabby?"
She
touched her ear where a small, flesh–colored receiver had been inserted in her
ear and nodded. "Yes." Squaring her shoulders, she turned away.
"Here we go."
Jon
fought the urge to rush after her as she walked down the block. Instead, he
closed the side panel door and then slid into the van’s passenger seat.
Kyle
sat in the driver’s seat and was talking into a small mic. "She’s heading
to the stop. Jay, you got her?"
A
man’s voice reported back, "I’m on her."
To
Jon, Kyle said, "Jay’s cover is a homeless guy Dumpster diving."
A
video monitor with feed from the microscopic camera embedded in the button of
Tabby’s coat gave them a clear view of anyone approaching Tabby. Off to her
left a man digging through the trash could be seen.
Tabby stood at the top of the steps leading
down to the subway platform. People moved passed, but no one came within reach
of her. Then her cell phone rang. Inside the van it sounded close enough to
touch.
Her
voice shook slightly as she answered, "Yes."
A
muffled voice instructed her to get on the approaching bus going north on Park
Drive. The line went dead.
Jon’s
heart sped up. He didn’t like this twist. Too much could go wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment