Chapter Two: Vincent Jorrien
Frank stared at the phone which had for so long been silent. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly used the intercom to call in the team of technicians that had been waiting nearby ever since Jamie's phone was delivered to him.
As the team began to set up, Frank picked up the phone. His hand shook slightly at first and then he took a deep breath.
He answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Hiya, Frankie, how've ya been?" An unfamiliar voice replied in a sing-song tone.
"With whom am I speaking?" Frankie demanded in a calm tone that did nothing to hide his anger.
"Oh Frankie, I'm hurt. I'm really hurt! Don't you know your old friend?" The man's voice was sarcastic and Frank could already feel the impulse to shut the man up. Violently.
"Who is this?" he repeated.
"Well, I guess we never did speak to each other. I certainly know you, though," the man continued as though Frank had never spoken. "And your father. Not to mention Detective Danny. Linda. Those strapping young boys of theirs. Adorable, sweet Nicki. Erin. I was really shocked to hear about Joe, you know. I grieved, Frankie, I really did… and little Jamie. Yeah, I've gotten to know him real well. Me and him, we're best buddies now."
"Where is he?" Frank kept his voice quiet but the threat was very clear to everyone listening.
"But I haven't even answered your first question! Aren't you curious? I'll let you know. I don't mind. Just like I don't mind the fact that you've got a bunch of smarty-pants types in there with you tracing this call. In fact, I want you to come here. But I'll get to that. My name's Vincent, Frankie. Vincent Jorrien."
Frank's breath caught in his throat. That was a name he hadn't heard since his days on tour. Of course he remembered that name. The pictures from the crime scenes were permanently scarred into his mind.
"What do you want, Jorrien?" Frank asked.
"I want to play with you again, Frankie," Vincent's voice was taunting. "I had so much fun last time. You were this close to finding me, Frankie. So, so close. I even had to leave the city!"
The sound of Jorrien laughing made Frank clench his free hand into a tight fist.
"The Police Commissioner of New York does not play games with criminals."
"Ah, Frankie," Vincent teased in a falsely disappointed voice, "you're no fun! It took so much time to get everything ready. I'm sure you'll find out. But I think you'll play this game. In fact, I know you will."
The next voice Frank heard over the line was not Vincent's.
"Dad?"
"Jamie," Frank breathed out, taking in everything he could about the voice he hadn't heard in what seemed like an eternity. His son sounded breathless, pained, but Frank was infuriatingly without any clear information as to the condition of his son.
"He's the prize, Frankie," Vincent was back on the phone. "Now, I'm guessing those computer guys have got a location by now. Am I right?"
Frank looked up at the men and women with the equipment. One of the women nodded.
"Of course they do," Vincent continued. "So Jamie and I will be leaving soon. But first, know that this is a treasure hunt of sorts. I've left you clues- the first one's here- and if you win, you get your son back. If I win… well, you remember how quickly I tire of my toys?"
The horrific images pushed their way to the forefront of Frank's mind again.
"If you release Officer Reagan immediately and turn yourself in, I will be sure to relate your cooperation to the DA's office."
"Oh Frankie," Vincent sighed. "I'm not forfeiting that easily."
"This is your one and only chance to make that decision."
"I'm the one making the rules here, Reagan." For the first time, the other man's voice lost its carefree tone. "Don't forget that. If you do, I might have to start making the game more interesting. You wouldn't want your prize to be tarnished, would you? Jamie needs both of his ears to be the best cop he can be, right? And I'm guessing he'll need all ten fingers, too."
Frank's heart dropped at Vincent's threats. Still, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.
"I'll be seeing you, Frankie," Vincent said, once again in a sing-song voice. "You might want to take a leave of absence from the whole 'commissioner' thing. I think Jamie needs your full attention right now."
The next thing Frank heard was the dial-tone.
He set the phone back down on his desk. He looked over the people gathered in his office.
"What's the address?"