around town since then. We both know I’m no angel, but I’ve never hurt anybody who didn’t try to hurt me first. Check my sheet, ask around about me, you’ll find that’s true.”
“First time for everything.”
“You’re trying to sweat the wrong guy. Meanwhile, the right guy’s out there laughing his ass off at you. Now, you guys kicked me loose, so leave me alone.”
“The guy you put in the hospital?” Millett said. “I’ve known him all my life. He and my father were best friends. He’s my godfather. So you picked the wrong house last night, Stokes.”
Well, that explained a few things.
“I didn’t pick any house last night, Sergeant.”
Millett tried the tough-guy-glare thing for a few more seconds. He actually wasn’t bad at it. But when Stokes didn’t wither under it, the cop sneered and looked Stokes up and down again. His eyes landed on Stokes’s boots, which were still wet from his trudge through the stream. And his feet were still freezing.
“Where you coming from?” Millett asked.
“Sorry, but that’s not your business.”
Millett’s jaw muscles twitched. Stokes stared back at him. At that moment, the cell phone, Paul Jenkins’s goddamn cell phone, rang in Stokes’s pocket. Had it really been an hour already? The phone rang again and Stokes must have reacted in some way, shown his anxiety, because Millett raised his eyebrows, smiled a little, and said, “You gonna answer that?”
“Up to me whether I do or not.”
“Guess it is.”
The phone rang a third time. Millett just stood there. Stokes looked at his watch. Straight up seven o’clock. Another ring. Stokes stepped to his left to move around Millett. Millett slid to his right to block his path. Stokes didn’t bother trying to go back the other way. The phone rang a fifth time. Millett waited. Stokes took the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.
“Hello,” he said, turning his back to the cop.
“Your hourly call, Jenkins,” the kidnapper said.
“Thanks.”
“Got the money yet?”
“I will soon.”
“I know you will, because you got a pretty good idea what happens if you don’t. Wanna talk to the kid?”
“Of course.”
Stokes turned away again and started walking. He could hear Millett following him around the corner of his trailer. He could feel the cop’s eyes on his back. Knew he was listening to every word Stokes said. When Stokes reached the other corner of his trailer, Millett sped up and stopped in front of him.
“Daddy?” the little girl said on the phone, her voice tinged with faint hope.
“No, it’s still me,” Stokes said, “but remember, you have to pretend I’m your daddy.”
A brief pause. “OK . . . Daddy.” Her voice was different from a moment ago, sadder. She’d hoped she’d be speaking with her father again. But she was smart enough to play along. He only hoped the kidnappers hadn’t noticed her change in tone.
“Good girl,” Stokes said, and Millett’s eyebrows knitted. “Keep it up. This will all be over soon. I promise. Are you . . . OK?”
A sniffle. “I guess, Daddy. My hand hurts a lot, though.”
“I’m sorry—”
Stokes heard a fumbling on the other end of the line, then the kidnapper said, “OK, Paul, are we—”
“What will all be over soon?” Millett asked.
“Who’s that?” the kidnapper snapped.
“Nobody,” Stokes said quickly. “Just some guy standing nearby. I’m in public right now.”
“Who’s that on the phone, Stokes?” Millett asked, too loudly.
“What’d he say?” the kidnapper asked. “Who the fuck is with you, Paul?”
“Jesus, nobody, all right, nobody.” He was addressing both of them. “I’m just in public is all,” he said into the phone.
The kidnapper was silent for a moment. “Just get the money. We’ll be heading into the home stretch soon. Then you’ll have your little girl back, almost as good as new. Talk to you in an hour.”
Stokes closed the phone and slipped it into his
“First time for everything.”
“You’re trying to sweat the wrong guy. Meanwhile, the right guy’s out there laughing his ass off at you. Now, you guys kicked me loose, so leave me alone.”
“The guy you put in the hospital?” Millett said. “I’ve known him all my life. He and my father were best friends. He’s my godfather. So you picked the wrong house last night, Stokes.”
Well, that explained a few things.
“I didn’t pick any house last night, Sergeant.”
Millett tried the tough-guy-glare thing for a few more seconds. He actually wasn’t bad at it. But when Stokes didn’t wither under it, the cop sneered and looked Stokes up and down again. His eyes landed on Stokes’s boots, which were still wet from his trudge through the stream. And his feet were still freezing.
“Where you coming from?” Millett asked.
“Sorry, but that’s not your business.”
Millett’s jaw muscles twitched. Stokes stared back at him. At that moment, the cell phone, Paul Jenkins’s goddamn cell phone, rang in Stokes’s pocket. Had it really been an hour already? The phone rang again and Stokes must have reacted in some way, shown his anxiety, because Millett raised his eyebrows, smiled a little, and said, “You gonna answer that?”
“Up to me whether I do or not.”
“Guess it is.”
The phone rang a third time. Millett just stood there. Stokes looked at his watch. Straight up seven o’clock. Another ring. Stokes stepped to his left to move around Millett. Millett slid to his right to block his path. Stokes didn’t bother trying to go back the other way. The phone rang a fifth time. Millett waited. Stokes took the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.
“Hello,” he said, turning his back to the cop.
“Your hourly call, Jenkins,” the kidnapper said.
“Thanks.”
“Got the money yet?”
“I will soon.”
“I know you will, because you got a pretty good idea what happens if you don’t. Wanna talk to the kid?”
“Of course.”
Stokes turned away again and started walking. He could hear Millett following him around the corner of his trailer. He could feel the cop’s eyes on his back. Knew he was listening to every word Stokes said. When Stokes reached the other corner of his trailer, Millett sped up and stopped in front of him.
“Daddy?” the little girl said on the phone, her voice tinged with faint hope.
“No, it’s still me,” Stokes said, “but remember, you have to pretend I’m your daddy.”
A brief pause. “OK . . . Daddy.” Her voice was different from a moment ago, sadder. She’d hoped she’d be speaking with her father again. But she was smart enough to play along. He only hoped the kidnappers hadn’t noticed her change in tone.
“Good girl,” Stokes said, and Millett’s eyebrows knitted. “Keep it up. This will all be over soon. I promise. Are you . . . OK?”
A sniffle. “I guess, Daddy. My hand hurts a lot, though.”
“I’m sorry—”
Stokes heard a fumbling on the other end of the line, then the kidnapper said, “OK, Paul, are we—”
“What will all be over soon?” Millett asked.
“Who’s that?” the kidnapper snapped.
“Nobody,” Stokes said quickly. “Just some guy standing nearby. I’m in public right now.”
“Who’s that on the phone, Stokes?” Millett asked, too loudly.
“What’d he say?” the kidnapper asked. “Who the fuck is with you, Paul?”
“Jesus, nobody, all right, nobody.” He was addressing both of them. “I’m just in public is all,” he said into the phone.
The kidnapper was silent for a moment. “Just get the money. We’ll be heading into the home stretch soon. Then you’ll have your little girl back, almost as good as new. Talk to you in an hour.”
Stokes closed the phone and slipped it into his
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