Poppy pressed her face against Paulie’s shoulder. She’d never felt this close to him.

4

“You will be able to come up with so much money?” Nana said. John looked up at his mother from where he sat before the computer and worried. She didn’t know the half of it—a tenth of it—and already she looked like she was falling apart. Her hair was carelessly combed, her clothes wrinkled, her once rosy cheeks now pale and pinched. And she kept digging her fingertips into the sides of her throat as if she were having trouble breathing.

No way he could tell her the truth—about the “service” he was to perform, about… Katie’s toe. So he’d lied to her. He’d told her the kidnappers didn’t really want a service from him, they wanted money—a million dollars.

“Yeah,” John said softly. “It’s in the works. I have calls out to some people who owe me favors, and a bunch of loan officers at the bank are working on it. I should be able to get it all together in a couple of days.”

“A couple of days? But Katie will be a prisoner all that time. How can you—?”

He flared. Before he could stop it, his voice jumped to a shout.

“Don’t you think I want her back too? Today? This minute? It’s not like I can just sit down and write a check!”

He saw her flinch and that doused his anger. He reached out and grasped her hand. “Sorry, Mom. I’m just on edge. I’m doing the best that I can as fast as I can.”

She patted his hand. “I know you are, Johnny. I never should have said… it is just that I cannot bear the thought of Katie being held prisoner by these people a single minute longer than absolutely necessary.”

Prisoner, he thought, feeling sick again. If only that were the worst of it.

“I am going to lie down. Those pills you gave me make me so sleepy. I am too tired even for my yoga.” He’d started her on a tranquilizer last night. He wished he could pop a few himself, but he had to stay alert, had to stay on top of things.

“Do that. Mom. Lie down, close your eyes, try to sleep. It’ll make the time go faster.”

When she was gone, he got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. He knew he had to eat something, but his appetite was gone, maybe forever. He closed the door but didn’t move away. His eyes were drawn to the freezer compartment.

He could almost see it through the door, still in the plastic bag, sealed in a white envelope tucked away behind the ice cube trays: Katie’s little toe.

He had no delusions about reattaching it, and if he had, freezing would not be the way to preserve it. But what else could he do?

After dragging himself in from the mailbox and vomiting, he’d taken the Baggie and its contents down to the basement where he could cry without his mother hearing. He remembered shaking, sweating, and sobbing for only a few minutes, and then it was as if a circuit somewhere inside of him overloaded and tripped a breaker. He went numb. He’d sat there with the Baggie in his hand, not looking at it, staring off into space instead.

Finally he stood and began moving about, in circles at first, trying to focus. He couldn’t wallow. He had decisions to make. Katie’s life depended on those decisions.

But first, the toe… that horrid, precious, bloody little toe. He couldn’t let Nana see it, and he couldn’t bear the thought of letting it rot. He’d had to do something, and the freezer was all he could think of.

Thinking… God, that was such a problem. Trying to force his thoughts to get in line and make sense—it took such effort.

But after hiding the toe, he managed to sit down at the computer and tap out a reply to Snake. It wasn’t all that coherent, but John didn’t care.

All he wanted to do was let this monster know that he would do anything— anything—he was asked, just please don’t hurt Katie any more.

And he meant that. Snake had made his point: He held all the high cards. He was in charge. John had been tortured by the choice between his best friend and his daughter. But Katie’s toe had dissolved the conflict.

Katie.

He chose Katie.

Katie would live. And Tom would have to find some way to survive.

Snake’s blood-freezing reply had reinforced that resolve.

NOW we understand each other! You know what you have to do. Do it soon. VERY soon. Or we’ll start testing your jigsaw puzzle skills.

John dragged himself away from the refrigerator and went to the phone.

He blocked all questions, all speculation as he narrowed his focus to the task at hand. He pulled out the yellow pages and searched the physician listings. He found a Dr. Adelson, an internist way up in Friendship Heights, and copied down his address and phone number. As Dr. Adelson, he began dialing the downtown pharmacies until he found one that had a small stock of chloramphenicol.

In the most matter-of-fact tone he could muster, he called in a prescription for someone named Henry Johnson: “Give him Chlormycetin 250, twenty caps, one Q-I-D, No refill, and generic’s okay.” When the pharmacist asked for his address and office phone number, John supplied Adelson’s. Fine… Mr. Johnson could pick up his pills in about thirty minutes.

John leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Step one completed.

Now for step two.

But as he picked up the phone, the doorbell rang. He jumped and almost dropped the phone.

Not a delivery man… oh, please. God, not another piece of Katie!

John hung up and forced himself toward the door that loomed ahead of him like the portals of hell. Clenching his teeth he grabbed the knob and yanked it open.

An attractive, fortyish woman stood on the front step. She wore a mink coat and high heels. Her long, glossy black hair was tied back with a gold clasp. Her face was perfectly made up. She was smiling, but her dark eyes challenged him.

John nearly staggered back at the sight of her. This was impossible.

“Hello, John.” Her voice… so smooth, so cool, so perfectly modulated.

“Mamie!” His own voice sounded like steel dragging across concrete. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see my daughter.”

“You-you’re supposed to be in Georgia!”

“I was released.”

“I don’t believe that!”

“It’s true, John. I’m cured. I’m on medication, and as long as I maintain my dosage, I’m fine. As a matter of fact, if I keep doing this well, Dr. Schuyler says he might try tapering my dose in the fall. Isn’t that wonderful?”

John’s mind reeled. This couldn’t be. Mamie was supposed to be at the Marietta Psychiatric Center. What was she doing in D.C.? And why now? Of all times, why did she have to appear now?

“I don’t care what Schuyler or anyone else says, the court said you’re not supposed to leave Georgia.”

Her smile held. “Dr. Schuyler worked it out for me. I’m well enough to travel now. And I want to see Katie.”

“No,” John said, shaking his head as vehemently as he could. “Not a chance. Not a chance in hell.”

“I’m her mother, John.” The smile wavered. “I have a right to—”

“You have no rights!” he said, feeling his anger rise— and loving it. So good to feel something other than sickness and dread. “You gave them up, remember? That was the deal: No prison for you, sole custody for me. And that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Finally the smile vanished. “I want to see Katie. You can’t keep me from seeing my own daughter.”

“I can and will. And if you don’t get away from here, I’ll call the police and tell them you’re a fugitive from a Georgia psychiatric hospital.”

“That’s not—”

“And I’ll also tell them about the standing court order that forbids you from going anywhere near her. Do I call now, or do you leave?” Mamie backed up a step. And now her lips trembled.

“This isn’t fair, John.”

“That won’t work on me, Mamie. And I don’t want to hear about fair. Do us all a favor and go back to Georgia. Now.”