"What's your guess?"

"Let's start at the boat. At least the crew is bound to be there, someone who should know where Hoyt and the kid are," I said.

We took the promenade south of what they called the golf club and walked along yachts in the marina, looking for the Pirate. There was a warm breeze coming off the water, and although it seemed a bit choppy, it was deep blue and clean. A maze of small boats crisscrossed the river, and the commuter ferries worked the waves in both directions.

Graham Hoyt saw us before we spotted him. He was behind us, coming from one of the other parking lots. "You have any jurisdiction on the high seas, Detective?"

"Aye, aye, Cap-what do you need?"

"Left here twenty minutes ago to take Ms. Taggart back to her car and answer some questions for her. Could have sworn I had ninety-eight feet of a fine-looking boat sitting right at the end of that dock," he said, pointing. "Grand larceny, I think."

The small tender, the Rebecca, was tied up, but the slip for the larger vessel was empty.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Either that or my crew has mutinied, Alex. Maybe I worked them too hard on the way down from the islands."

He was laughing, so it was clear that no one had made off with the boat.

"Where's the boy, Mr. Hoyt?" Mike asked.

"Jenna took him over to one of those buildings in the sports complex. Todd, our first mate, was going to hit some balls with him, just play and hang out. Let him be a kid for a change. Guess the captain decided to go for a ride in the meantime. Want to go have a look for Dulles and my wife?"

"Sure."

We retraced our steps at Mike's suggestion. "The batting cages are in the field house, up between the first two piers. Eighty thousand square feet of pure heaven for a kid. This was a good idea of yours. They've got hoops there as well as baseball and gymnastics equipment. You ever been here before?"

Hoyt shook his head. "Only the marina."

Mike was leading the tour. "That's the building where they film all the TV shows, you know, like-"

"Graham!"

A woman was screaming Hoyt's name at the top of her lungs. The first two times we each heard it and looked around, unable to find her among the hordes of adolescents who had taken over the Piers' activity centers on the busy weekend.

"Jenna-what is it?"

I turned and saw a diminutive woman running toward Hoyt. She was dressed in a T-shirt, cotton slacks, and sneakers. Her face was contorted into an expression suggesting she was in pain, and she was weeping as she came at us.

"What's the matter?" he said, grabbing both arms and trying to calm her down. "Is it Dulles? Where is he?"

She caught her breath and tried to speak. "He's okay. But it was frightening, it was terribly frightening."

The more she tried to talk, the harder she cried.

"Tell me what it is," Hoyt said, sternly now, enunciating each word between clenched teeth, ordering her to explain whatever had happened.

"Mrs. Hoyt," I said, trying a softer approach by putting my arm around her shoulder and taking her hand in mine. "Please tell-"

She ignored me and talked to her husband. "It was Andrew. That meeting he had with Dulles this morning, before Nancy Taggart brought him here? Andrew was angry that it broke up so abruptly."

She stopped again to take some deep breaths.

"Damn it," said Graham. "He just can't let go of the boy."

"Andrew actually followed them here. That Taggart woman must be an idiot," Mrs. Hoyt said, her tears replaced by anger. "She led him right to us."

"Did Andrew do anything? Did he go anywhere near Dulles?"

"No, not that close. But-"

"Where the hell were you? What was going on? Where's Dulles?"

"I was sitting in the stands on the side, watching him play. I didn't even see Andrew." She was beginning to whine now, seeing that Graham was getting frantic over something that she had not been able to control. "Next thing I know Dulles looks up and just freaks out. He saw his father standing twenty feet away, just staring at him, holding on to the wire cage."

Hoyt was looking all around now. "Where are they?"

"It's okay, Graham. Todd scooped Dulles up and started running. Right to the boat. I-I couldn't keep up. I decided to try to block Andrew, to get in his way so he wouldn't be able to catch them."

She pointed down at her torn slacks. She must have fallen and scraped her knee. There was still fresh blood. Hoyt didn't seem interested in her bruise.

"Todd and the boy?"

"I saw them get on the Pirate. I saw the captain pull out into the river."

"Which way?"

"North."

"You sure?"

She was pointing now, and the magnificent steel bones of the George Washington Bridge stood in the distant background as if they were painted against the sky.

Mike and I were more worried about the fact that Andrew Tripping had begun to stalk his own child.

He spoke before I did. "Tripping? Did you see which way Tripping went?"

"We got entangled in each other. That's how I fell. He got up and started running-"

"After Dulles?" Graham asked.

"No, no. The other way. He ran toward a black car that was parked near the taxi drop-off area," Jenna said. "Over that way."

"You see him get in?" Mike asked.

"Yeah."

"Driver's side?"

"No, no. Someone was already waiting there, in the car. Another man."

Mike and Graham Hoyt were speaking at the same time, with different concerns.

"That son of a bitch was coming after Dulles, to take him away from us. To kidnap him. Had a car waiting and everything," Hoyt said, turning away from his wife.

Mike wanted to know what the man in the car looked like.

"He was a white guy. Short hair, thin face."

"Lionel Webster."

"Who's got a gun, Mike," I reminded him.

"She's yours," he said, telling Jenna Hoyt to stay with me till he got back or got word to us later.

Mike jogged in the direction of the parking garage, talking into his cell phone as he did.

Graham Hoyt took off the other way, toward his sleek-looking speedboat, the Pirate 's tender tied up at the end of the dock. Jenna followed behind him, favoring her bruised leg. I ran after them, overtaking her quickly and trailing behind her husband.

Halfway down the pier, Jenna let out a groan. I looked back and saw her doubled over, kneading a cramp out of her calf. She waved us on.

Graham Hoyt took care of the slipknot and tossed the rope onto the clean white rear seat of the boat, bounding in after it. "We're going for the boy," he called out to his wife.

He held out his hand and I jumped on as he juiced the motor and headed upriver.

38

The bow of the Whaler crashed against the waves, and the second speed bump threw me down onto the seat. Graham Hoyt was holding the wheel, driving the powerful craft hard, running it between and around the river traffic. Spray from the cold river was splashing over the sides, carried by the wind, soaking my hair and face.

Hoyt looked back at me. "Stay down, okay?"

I nodded that I would.

With his left hand he picked up a walkie-talkie device, trying to raise his captain on it.

Seconds later came the reply that he could be heard.

"We're in the tender, trying to catch up to you. Is Dulles okay?"

The machine crackled as the answer was transmitted. I could hear the captain say that the boy was "just fine."

Hoyt asked how far ahead they were, and I thought I heard the words "Spuyten Duyvil," which was just a few miles north. He replaced the device on the dashboard and turned to me with a smile, slowing the speed a bit. My stomach had been churning as the boat slammed against the water over and over. Now I was able to let go of my firm grip on the edge of the seat.