The Trophy Wife (28 page)

Time passed slowly; ten minutes that seemed like an hour. Then the phone rang again.

“Where are you?”

“In the parking lot.”

“What space? Look at the signs. Everythin' is numbered.”

He looked around in panic. “I don't see any signs.”

“Look up. You're right under one.”

Walter was shocked to realize that he was already under observation. He pressed his nose against the glass and saw the sign fastened near the top of one of the lighting poles. “Red lot, row CC,” he said.

“What slot?”

For the first time, Walter saw that all the spaces were numbered. “One twenty-one.”

There was a chuckle and then the slick voice saying, “Real
good. You've got the system down. Now I want you to drive around the north side of the buildin', and pull into blue, JJ, one hundred.”

“Fuck the games,” Walter cursed. But he knew the reason. He would be driving out in the open, aimlessly. Anyone who was following him would be immediately visible. He went back to the periphery road, offering an unobstructed view from every angle. Then he circled the mall and navigated himself into the assigned parking area. He could see large glass doors looking out from the building, directly down his aisle. Then he noticed another set of doors, directly behind, that looked out into the red parking area he had just left. His man had to be in that building, where he could keep an eye on both sides. He had watched Walter pull in and then had been able to follow him when he traveled to the new location.

The phone beeped almost immediately. “Very good. Now I want you to keep driving around the building, like a roulette ball rolling around the numbers.”

Walter snapped. “No! No more games. I have the money, I want to see …”

The phone died in his hand. He looked from the receiver toward the glass doors. There was no sign of his caller. He had an instant of panic wondering if his outburst had driven the bastard away. His heart seemed to stop with the realization that he might have blown the deal. But then he figured that the man must have still been watching him. He turned on the engine and began a counterclockwise circle around the enormous central mall.

His anxiety mounted as he completed the first cycle. He had passed all the close-in parking spaces and had received no word. There were signs pointing to auxiliary lots on the other side of the parkway, but he didn't think he should include them in his search. Emily's captor was somewhere within the buildings he was circling. He kept moving slowly, glancing every few seconds at the console to make sure that his cell phone was still turned on.

Walter was once again approaching the red area, which
served the center of the complex through the main doors of one of the anchor stores. The phone sounded.

“Turn left in red CC. You got it!”

“Yes. I'm coming up to it. Turn left.”

“Yeah. And then drive toward the front doors. I want you to get as close as you can and park in the first empty space that has parked cars on both sides.”

“What number?” Walter asked as he turned his car into aisle CC.

“The closest empty one. But it has to be a single space with cars on both sides of it. Understood?”

Walter's temper was close to its boiling point. It would be hard to control when he found himself face-to-face with the sick son of a bitch. Every instinct would drive him toward murder, but he was ready to put up with whatever indignities were fired at him in order to assure Emily's safety.

He saw a single spot to his left. But was it the one closest to the front door? “Should I take this one?” he yelled toward the phone before realizing that the caller had long since hung up. He hesitated, then decided to try even farther up the aisle. It seemed like a dumb move, when each of the aisles proved to be packed solid. But then, ahead on the right, only a dozen spaces from the door, a small sedan backed out. Walter stopped, let the car pull clear, and then swung into the empty space.

The phone chirped immediately. “Okay, okay. Now get out of the car and take the leather case. Leave the package inside and leave all the doors unlocked.”

“When do I see my wife?”

'Take the briefcase, get out of the car, and come inside the mall.”

“I'm not getting out until I see her …”

“Then you won't be seein' her at all. I'm not lettin' her go until I'm sure I haven't been followed and I get to count all the money.”

“I have to see her …”

“No way, pal. Either you walk through the front door carryin' that case within one minute or the deal is off. And the
money better be in the car or you're going to get the first piece of her ass in tomorrow's mail. It's your call!” The voice was firm and defiant. Walter didn't think the man was bluffing. He climbed out, taking the briefcase with him. He did a final check to make sure the doors were unlocked and then he strode off purposefully toward the bank of glass doors.

Walter never noticed Mike, who was exiting from the farthest door just as the glass panel in the center slid open automatically for him. There was no reason to. Mike was just another blank face in the constant stream of shoppers, wearing a bland sweater under a baseball cap. He stayed close to a woman pushing a baby carriage as if he were part of the family.

Once he was inside, Walter's eyes began darting about, looking for a face that would fit the voice he had come to loathe. He thought he would recognize it the instant it came into view. But all he found was confusion. There were men of every conceivable size and shape, bobbing on a sea of hurrying women. They all looked lost and confused. There was not one menacing expression. He kept moving through the store, toward its back doors, which connected to the interior of the mall. He carried the briefcase out in front of him where he thought it would be more easily seen.

Mike walked up the CC aisle, his head down, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. He kept his eyes centered so that he would seem to be uninterested in anything that was around him. But all his attention was on his peripheral vision. He was looking at each car he passed, checking to be sure that there wasn't anymore seated inside or crouched between cars. He walked by Walter's parked car as if it weren't even there, but in reality he searched very carefully to make sure that no one was loitering anywhere near it. He stopped near the end of the aisle, waited for a cluster of shoppers, and then joined in with them in walking back toward the stores. He took the cap off and slipped it under the edge of the sweater, then stood up tall and let his hands swing freely. The simple changes gave him a very different appearance.

Once again, he ignored the car as he passed, but carefully
cased the area. His spirits were rising. No one had followed Walter's car into the mall or through its parking lot. And no one was near it now. The $50,000 was only a few seconds away.

Mike went back into the store and quickly spotted Walter, who was shifting from foot to foot near the main door, seemingly offering the case to everyone who walked by. Jerk, Mike thought to himself, sneering visibly. He lifted a wind-breaker from a display rack and carried it to a cashier. He had already tried it on, so that he was able to wear it as soon as she had given him his change. A final glance back confirmed that Walter was still waiting to be contacted. He had stepped through the doorway and was looking up and down the inside mall, waiting for someone to approach.

In the new identity that the windbreaker provided, Mike went out into the parking area. He stood for a moment on the edge of the curb, straining to see if there was anyone else watching the aisle of cars. Satisfied that it was safe, he started down the CC aisle.

It should be a very simple pickup. His van was already parked in the aisle, only three spaces from where Walter had finally settled. He would just step to the back door of Walter's car, pull it open, and reach down for the package of cash. Then, only a few steps later, he would be driving away in his own van.

This time he didn't try to hide his interest in the parked cars. He looked carefully out over the sea of steel roofs, searching for a face that was looking back. As he neared the parking stall he bent low so that he could look into the windows for someone waiting nearby. There was nothing. Everything seemed normal. It was just as he planned. Walter Childs had been too terrified over what might happen to his wife to even think of involving the police. He had come to market like a little lamb, hoping that the ax stroke wouldn't hurt too much.

Mike moved past Walter's car until he was right in front of his own van. Then he turned quickly and strode back, turning into the narrow space between cars. He couldn't help
but smile at the unlocked rear door and when he pulled it open, he saw the paper-wrapped package, exactly as he had imagined. He reached across the seat and had his fingers looped through the string.

“Freeze!”

The word was shouted from behind him.

Mike backed out of the car, leaving the package.

“Stay right there.” The words came from a solid-looking man in a business suit who was approaching from the front of the car. All around him, Mike could hear car doors slamming, footsteps running, and voices shouting. He did an instant pan of the area. Another man was approaching from a car that was parked on the other side of the aisle. And there were two others converging on him, one from the direction of the stores, and the other from the very end of the row of parked cars. They had him surrounded!

He set his feet squarely and grasped the open door firmly as he watched the closest of the men approach from the front, moving between the cars. The instant he came into range, Mike swung the door with all his strength. The quick movement caught the man off guard and the sudden impact sent him sprawling. Mike slammed the door shut and then kicked out viciously, nailing the man squarely in the groin. Then he stepped over him, ducked between the cars, and bolted out into the adjacent parking aisle.

“Stop! Stay where you are!” The screams seemed to be coming from all around him. He raced toward the stores, putting two of the men behind him. The only one who was ahead was the man who had been coming up the aisle from the mall buildings and he would have to cut through two parking rows in order to cut Mike off.

He reached into his pocket as he ran, pulling out the snub-nosed revolver. Then he waved it toward the man who was attempting to intercept him.

“He's got a gun!” the pursuer screamed, and then he flung himself to the ground in the protected space between parked cars. Mike knew he was going to be the first through the doorway.

The parade of shoppers had been slow to react. Only a few heads had turned at the first order to freeze. Several more had stopped to look around when the shouting began. But women had begun to scream when Mike broke out from among the cars, running at top speed. They began to scatter the instant he had brandished the pistol.

As he ran, the shoppers dove away from him, women clutching their children to save them from the madness. The mob parted like the Red Sea, giving him a clear path to the front doors that slid open automatically. At the same time, the fleeing shoppers created barriers to the men in pursuit. People backing away from Mike collided with those giving chase. One of Helen Restivo's detectives tripped over a baby stroller and tumbled head over heels along the pavement. Another had to pull up abruptly to keep from running over an ancient woman who was shuffling behind her aluminum walker.

“Halt! Halt or I'll shoot!”

Mike didn't even bother looking back over his shoulder. Go ahead, fucker, he laughed to himself. Shoot up a shopping mall. Kill a couple a dozen brats. He was right. No shots followed the threat.

And then he was inside, looking at the terrified faces of shoppers who had heard the commotion outside and turned just in time to see the danger rushing toward them. Again they pulled away, leaving him a zigzag path between the clothing racks and the dummy displays. He ran like a halfback, cutting back and forth, finding the best path to the inside door. Directly ahead of him, Walter was turning back into the store from the mall corridor, still carrying the leather briefcase out in front of him.

Walter never made the connection. With the store exploding in screams and a man rushing toward him, he might have assumed that the commotion was connected to the ransom money he had left in the car. But he was expecting to be approached by Emily's kidnapper who would want everything kept quiet and inconspicuous. There was no reason why the ransom payment should turn into a riot, or why his contact
should be running for his life. His immediate assumption was that he had wandered into a burglary, or that he was in the path of a shoplifter. Walter did what everyone else in the store was doing and dove to safety behind a display of slacks. He didn't even notice Mike's face when the man flashed by.

Another man ran through the parking lot door in full pursuit, slowing only to glance around and assure himself that the kidnapper had continued out into the center of the mall. He darted though the same aisle that Mike had created and then out into the main corridor.

The commotion told him instantly which way the fleeing suspect had gone. Heads were turned toward the central plaza of the mall that connected the walkways into the numerous shopping areas and served the escalators that climbed up into the higher floors. Dozens of storefronts surrounded the main plaza and together with the aisles, elevator banks, and ascending stairways they created an enormous bazaar. He charged ahead, yelling at the people he passed, “Where did he go? Where is he?” Faces looked back blankly. Voices called contradictory directions. The kidnapper might be right in front of him, perhaps only twenty paces away, but he had effectively vanished.

Another of Restivo's men raced out into the central aisle and followed the screamed confusion into the plaza. Together, the two men started down aisles and poked their heads into store after store. Then one of them found the dark blue wind-breaker that Mike had just purchased lying abandoned under a resting bench. Their man had already changed his looks. There was every chance that he had escaped through their fingers.