"Ted, this wasn't what I had in mind for Reese's birthday," Crews said, his voice muted as he stared across the space.
"I know," he murmured, staring at his hands almost helplessly. "I'm- I'm sorry, Charlie."
"Did you tell her mother to delay the trip?" He'd had Ted change her ticket for a few days from now, just to be safe. The last thing he wanted was her mother holed up in a hotel, terrified that her daughter was dead. The woman had gone through enough. Dani had gone through enough, too, but he had a feeling that it would have come down to this no matter where they'd gone. Maybe that was the most horrifying part about it. Then again, it was one more reason why he had to find Harriman, track him down, and- A hand touched his uninjured shoulder, interrupting the bite of his thoughts.
"Olivia called," Ted said, his own voice betraying the worry that stalked them both. "Mrs. Reese wanted to know what was going on, but-" He shrugged and shoved his thick fingers through his hair as if that said everything. Crews paced carefully, ignoring the doctor who stood in the doorway.
Nabbas had made her bleed and not just a little. There was enough blood to tell him he'd used a knife.
"Tidwell is still flying out."
"Is he?" Crews frowned absently and then brushed past the doctor, buttoning his sharp blue blazer and adjusting his tie.
"He'll be landing in about an hour, earlier if he has anything to say about it." Ted didn't meet his eyes at all. "Called while you were in surgery." The latter was said slowly, as if trying to gauge his mood about having Tidwell around. Crews said nothing, his eyes fixed ahead.
He had a little trouble with the button, but Ted said nothing. Neither did the doctor, who had him sign paperwork absolving the hospital and himself from a lawsuit if any further aggravation of the injury came about. Crews decided he didn't care, and Ted got them a taxi back to the hotel. The rain wasn't warm or inviting or peaceful. It was a hard, angry rain.
Reese was somewhere out there, hurt, and in the hands of a man who would kill her as slowly as he could. He trusted her. He trusted her to find a way through it, to live, to come back to him. Crews sank into the soft living room chair, his hand over his eyes. Nabbas would want somewhere remote, somewhere outside of the city proper, and Reese had been gone for two hours and fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-nine. The closest edge of the city that bordered on remote, was toward the southeast where there weren't very many towns or villages. He was almost sure that Nabbas had gone that way. Any other direction wouldn't have been feasible.
"Charlie?" He glanced up at Ted only to watch his friend sink onto the edge of the couch, the phone in hand. "You're gonna want to take this." Crews stared at the hotel phone dangling from Ted's fingers and frowned.
"This is Charlie Crews," he said, his voice all ice. Ted's expression had confirmed who it was and the look of alarm just made him a very angry Crews.
"Detective. Your move." The line went dead as a knock sounded at the hotel door. Crews pulled open the door, but there was no one there, just a package, its brown paper packaging rain-spattered. A familiar voice filled the corridor.
"Detective Crews!" Tidwell was hurrying down the plush carpeting, flustered and clearly out of place. Crews took one look at the man's harried expression and stubbled face and knew he'd neither slept, showered, or bothered to change his clothes since his plane had landed. Neither of them had jurisdiction in Nepal and they stood there awkwardly for a moment. "You gonna open that?"
Tidwell gestured.
Crews turned away and left the door open, a silent invitation for his very off-duty superior to join him. Outside, the storm had grown worse, plunging the temperature into the low forties. Crews found his pocket knife and flicked it open, neatly slicing the strings that held the paper to the box, intent upon nothing else but its contents.
"Shouldn't you check that for-" Tidwell began, but fell silent as Crews lifted the lid. Inside was Reese's pashmina, soiled with dirt and blood. "Shit." Crews's eyebrows arched as he silently agreed with that sentiment, then found the neatly written note.
I'm enjoying our time together, Detective. Aren't you? By now, I suppose you've noticed that you're missing something. She means nothing to me, but to you? Well, I think we can both agree on her worth to you. This will end in blood, Detective Crews. We both know that.
The list of coordinates I have given you will get you to where you need to be. Only one is correct. Every hour you delay will cost you. I'm sure you can imagine where I'm headed. He told me I could have my fun, after all, so long as I killed you in the end. I do intend to have that fun any way I can.
It wasn't signed, but an ace of Spades was pinned to the bottom of the note. On it, were a set of five coordinates. As if they needed any more goading, Nabbas had provided them with a single photograph that showed a stretch of relatively flat land, a small hut, and a hole in the ground. A hole big and deep enough to fit a person. Crews almost tore the map getting it out and Tidwell took the letter by its edges, cursing under his breath as Ted reached for the phone. Nepalese police would have to be updated, since the first thing Ted had done was give them a call.
Of course this was fun to a man like Nabbas. He'd wanted this game long before he'd killed that prison guard, long before Harriman had sent him to silence both Crews and Reese. That was absolutely no contest.
Tidwell peered at the photograph, trying to be as calm as possible, but his knee jiggled with the tension he couldn't shake. It was like Roman, maybe worse. Maybe. Crews took his pen and drew lines from the hospital to each of the coordinates, spider-webbing them together quickly. Coordinates were easy, getting there would require some effort.
"Time stamp says it's from three days ago," Tidwell said half to himself. "This wacko-nutbag has been planning this for awhile. Bet that crossbow crap was just to keep you down long enough to grab Reese. I guess separating you two was a good idea considering you work best together." Crews flicked a glance at the other man, his jaw hard. "From his point of view." Tidwell leaned up against the door frame, photo in hand, his face dark with anger.
He paused and put the photo down into the counter by its edges.
"You did get to, you know," he waved slightly, "do your thing, right? Before he-"
"Later," Crews said in a soft, dangerous voice. "Can you get here?" He pointed to a spot on the map. Tidwell swallowed his curiosity and nodded.
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I can get there."
Crews looked up as the police arrived. He nodded to them and they to him, and then they got down to figuring out who was going to canvas the other areas. He had his picked out—the likeliest of spots, the one his gut said was right. He could feel her hanging on, waiting. Waiting for her moment. They'd pick up the pieces together, later. And maybe, just maybe, they'd get a vacation out of it where no one was trying to murder them.
He could hope and dream, just a little.
Grabbing a bright green apple, Crews headed out the door wordlessly, a flanked by three cops and Ted. Tidwell was behind them with the task force he was tagging along with. The crunch of the apple left him clear and sharp, though he felt as cold as the wind outside. Nabbas was right on one thing.
This was going to end in blood.
