The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel by R.J. Torbert Read Free Book Online

dollars by Sunday, June 19 th to be left in the trunk of a car that will be on the ferry’s 10:00 am boat to Bridgeport, the George Washington. There will be a yellow Honda Accord on the ferry. We will get the key to you during the week. You will drive on the boat, get out, find the yellow Honda, open the trunk, and put the money in the trunk. When the ferry arrives in Bridgeport, you will drive off the ferry and drive back to Long Island. Do you have any questions?”
    “Ah,” Lance replied, “how do I get my daughter back, and I can’t liquidate $3 million worth of cash so fast. Please give me more time.”
    The calm, evil voice on the other end replied, “You will get her back, dead or alive. You have until the 19 th , no more. It depends on whether your friends at the FBI decide how involved they want to be. If we see them on the ferry, you will get your daughter back dead, guaranteed.”
    There was silence on Lance’s end. “That’s right,” said the caller. “You don’t think I know the FBI is involved with this? New York to Connecticut ferry? Give me a break. We will get a key to you.” The line went dead.
    O’Connor’s cell phone rang, and the man on the other end told him the call had been traced to a McDonald’s on Boston Post Road in in Orange, Connecticut.
    “Wait,” Lance yelled at O’Connor. “Are you trying to get my daughter killed?”
    “Listen,” O’Connor answered, “her only hope is if we find them. If you pay this ransom, I don’t think you will get her back alive. The more time that goes by, the less likely this will work out.”
    Lance just sat down and put his hands over his face. O’Connor hesitated and sat down next to him and asked, “Is there anything you’re not telling me? We need to know everything if we’re going to save her. What happened to her mother?”
    “We divorced when Deborah was six; she lived with her mom until her mother got sick. She was 13 when she lost her mother and has been with me ever since. She graduated from Stony Brook University and has been a teacher at Mount Sinai Schools for only a year.”
    “Why her?” asked O’Connor. “There has to be more to this than money.”
    “Excuse me, sir, dinner will be served in 10 minutes.”
    “Thank you, Robert,” Lance said as O’Connor looked at William Lance’s assistant, Robert Simpson. He was muscular, good-looking, and 37 years of age, though he looked younger.
    “How long has he worked for you?”
    “Twelve years,” replied Lance. “I trust him with my life, and he loves Deborah. He would never hurt her. He’s almost as torn up about this as I am.”
    “Mr. Lance,” O’Connor replied, “can you get ahold of three million in cash by Sunday, June 19 th ? Eight days from now?”
    “Yes, I could get it tomorrow,” he replied. “I’ve always worried about what’s been going on in this country, so I keep cash aside on the property.”
    “Three million in cash?” O’Connor replied.
    “Yes,” Lance answered.
    “And how would they know to ask for three million? Tell me. What are you not telling me or forgetting to tell me? Who knows about the cash being hidden somewhere on the property? Also, if you had the cash on the property, how did you know to ask for more time?”
    “Three people,” answered Lance. “Deborah, myself, and Robert, and it was Detective Powers who told me to delay and ask for more time.”
    “Why does Simpson know about the cash?” O’Connor asked.
    “In case anything happened to us. I wanted him to have it.” O’Connor looked even more puzzled and had a look on his face that told the former Suffolk County executive that he thought he was an asshole without even saying it.
    “Did you do a background check on him 12 years ago?”
    “Yes, of course,” Lance replied.
    “Show it to me. Besides, we’re going to check it out ourselves. As for the cash, are you sure it’s still there? Check it out, and do it now.” He called for Agent Summers, who was