Storm Season by Erica Spindler Read Free Book Online

Time would run out. It always did.
    It rang again. M.C. snatched up the device, handed it to him then pressed the speaker button.
    “Hello,” he answered, voice sounding strangled.
    “Mr. McCormack?”
    “Yes?”
    “I see you got your delivery.”
    “Where’s Erik?”
    M.C. closed her eyes in an attempt to listen with all her senses. To pick up something, in the man’s voice or from the background noise, that would lead to her to Erik.
    “That’s a stupid question, McCormack. The smart question is, how do you get him back?”
    “How do I get him back?”
    “Seven hundred-fifty thousand dollars. Cash. Tomorrow at noon.”
    “But I can’t get--”
    “Yes, you can. And you will. Or Mr. Sundstrand dies.”
    “Wait! Where do I--”
    “Instructions will come. And, Mr. McCormack? No police. That would be very dangerous for Sundstrand.”

10:50 p.m.
    FOR THE FIRST TIME, M.C. truly understood the ‘No cops’ dilemma. Before, she’d been arrogant. Law enforcement was essential. The only way to catch the perp and save the victim. Heeding the kidnapper’s demands was, frankly, stupid. And an almost certain death sentence for the victim.
    When it was someone you cared about, that arrogance became gut-wrenching fear. Of making a misstep. Causing a worst-case-scenario.
    Faced with the threat of harm to Erik, she’d hesitated. Her, a cop. She had even considered taking on the kidnappers by herself. Wiring the phone, making the drop, all of it. Dangerous thoughts. More arrogance.
    So she had made the call. The team had arrived at McCormack’s moments ago.
    “Seven hundred-fifty grand,” Kitt was saying. “Why that amount? Sundstrand’s worth millions.”
    “Small time hoods,” Baker offered. “Not so bright.”
    “Or very bright,” McCormack said.
    They all looked at him.
    “I can write a check for up to that amount, my signature only. Anything more requires Erik’s as well.”
    The group went silent. Kitt broke it first. “Not a guess then. They knew.”
    “Someone on the inside.”
    “Ex-employee? Family member maybe?”
    M.C. looked at McCormack. “Who else has access to that information?”
    “Any number of people. From department heads to our bank rep.”
    M.C. jumped to her feet. “Dammit!”
    “We’ve got another problem,” McCormack said. “A local bank doesn’t keep that kind of cash on hand. It’s going to have to come from a federal reserve bank.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
    “I wish I was, Detective.”
    “I’d bet my right nut that’s something they didn’t know.” Canataldi looked at McCormack. “Where’s the nearest federal reserve?”
    “Beloit.”
    “Wisconsin?” M.C. sat back down. “They’re ankle deep in snow already.”
    “And the bank doesn’t even open until nine.”
    “If it opens at all. We’re all gonna be ass deep in this blizzard by then.”
    The end of the world, Sorenstein had said. Her world.
    “I’ll go,” M.C. said. “Arrange the drop, I’ll--”
    “You’ll what? Break into the Federal Reserve Bank?” Kitt signaled Baker. “Time to call in the Bureau.”

Wednesday
    6:10 a.m.
     
    M.C. SAT AT HER DESK. She held onto her emotions as tightly as she could. At any minute, she could lose that grip. And spin out of her freaking mind. Totally lose it.
    Progress had slowed to a crawl. The feds had taken over, shut them out. Shut her out. Luckily, Kitt and Baker were still on scene; information trickled through.
    The Feds had been able to make things happen, although the timing was going to be tricky. Arrangements with the bank had been made, the highway department would assure the armored truck’s safe arrival at McCormack’s. The local suits would take it from there. Marked bills. Tracking device on the package. The agent making the drop. Snipers in place. All made nearly impossible by the blizzard.
    The storm was the true wild card in this one.
    She’d been unable to get the location of the drop out of Kitt. She understood both