“—or if she gets hurt—”
“She can blame her daddy. Her future is entirely up to you.”
Barker hung up and smiled smugly. “In two hours, Frank.”
The ogre shook his large head, looking troubled. He’d even stopped chewing. “Boss, you sure about this?”
“Don’t ask me that again.”
Beth had been able to follow John’s conversation with Barker. After its abrupt end, John immediately called Mitch, who answered on the first ring. John said, “How soon can you get here?”
“To the fishing camp? Half an hour.”
“Make it twenty. Barker and the ogre have Molly.”
“Leaving now.”
As John disconnected, Beth said, “John, you and Mitch can’t go meet them. Just the two of you?”
“You heard Barker. He wants to keep it between us. You know why? Because he has every intention of killing me.”
“All the more reason for you to call the police.”
“They are the police.”
“Then the FBI, like you threatened.”
“That was a bluff. By the time they got into play, Molly could be dead.”
“You could be dead.”
“We can’t argue about this, Beth.”
He sidestepped her to walk over to the wall where the shotgun hung on the gun rack. He took it down and scooped a handful of shells from the cigar box and dropped them into the pocket of his black rain jacket, which was hanging on one of the hooks inside the front door. He propped the shotgun against it.
From the top drawer of a bureau, he took several clips for his .45 and placed them in the other side pocket. A knife was stored in another drawer. He took it out of its scabbard, tested its razor-thin blade against the pad of his thumb, then bent down and slid it into his boot.
“You carry a knife in your boot?” she asked.
“It fits in a scabbard. When we were partners, Mitch had them made for us.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t trust the bad guys.”
Watching him preparing like a soldier for battle, Beth wrung her hands. “Molly must be terrified. How did he get to her?”
“Maybe when she came home alone from the restaurant. Somewhere between the Uber car and the house. Or maybe she was snatched when she left the restaurant, before the Uber car arrived.”
He stopped in the middle of the room and dug his thumb and middle finger into his eye sockets. “God, when I think about that cretin touching her.” Then he lowered his hand and gave his head a hard shake. “I can’t think about that now. I’ll go crazy.”
“Should you notify Roslyn?”
“Should, but I’m not going to until I have Molly back and can report to Roslyn that she’s okay.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he and Beth looked at each other. Beth figured that he was thinking the same thing she was: Molly may not be okay. She didn’t dare say it. However, her apprehension must have been visible.
His eyes became as sharp and steely as the knife inside his boot. “We’re all coming back. Molly and me and Mitch.”
She squared her shoulders. “And me. I’m going with you.”
“Out of the question.”
“Think about it, John. Whatever’s happened while she’s been with them will have been traumatizing. Having another woman there—”
“I get your point, but it’s not going to happen.”
“John—”
“That’s the end of it,” he said, slicing his hands. His features had turned as hard and uncompromising as they’d been in the bar when he’d first learned that she represented Crisis Point.
Then his head dropped forward. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m worried on your account, too. I hate leaving you here alone, but I’m leaving you armed, and with a secret. Come in here.”
He led her into his bedroom and opened the closet door. He knelt and moved aside several pairs of footwear, then pried up a section of the hardwood floor. Beneath it was a cavity about four feet square and six feet deep, disturbingly resembling a grave.
“It’s dark and musty, but I think Mutt will warn you if he hears someone approaching. Get in here. Keep this with you.” He reached underneath the nightstand and produced a pistol that had been secured to the underside.