no change to report really.”
Stephanie sighed, uncertain whether to be encouraged or disappointed at the news. “Tuney?”
“He’s on board. He’s going to work the helicopter angle, see if he can figure out where Bittman might have taken Dad.”
She swallowed. “Do you think he’ll be able to get a lead?”
“He’s checking into the medical aspect, too, to see if Bittman hired aprivate nurse or doctor.”
She tried to breathe out her terror. Tuney was a gruff character, crabby and volatile on the outside, but she knew him to be loyal, and most important, he understood what it was like to lose someone. “Good.” She opened her laptop. “I’ll keep working on the police report from Hans Bittman’s store.” It brought a surge of relief to be doing something. One step closerto Dad, she thought. She put her cell phone on the table. The waitress brought her a slice of pie that made her mouth water in spite of the mangled state of her nerves.
The laptop hadn’t finished booting up when her phone vibrated with an unknown number. The hospital? She answered.
“Good afternoon, Stephanie.”
Her breath froze in her lungs. “What do you want?”
Bittman laughed.“Is it unusual for a man to call and check on the progress of his employee?”
“We’re not your employees, and we’ll give you a report when we have some news,” she hissed.
Luca gestured angrily for her to hand him the phone.
She mouthed the word no . Bittman did not want to talk to Luca; she knew that much.
“You’ve made contact with Devlin?” Bittman asked.
“Yes, and he’s givenus some info.”
“Excellent. I’m confident that you will not have any interaction with the local police. They will only slow things down. No police whatsoever. That is clear, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have an update for you. It seems as though your father is determined to shed a few pounds.”
She clutched at the phone. “What? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing at the moment,but he is rejecting any food, even though we have provided him with some tantalizing fare. Ethnic food, I recall you said he enjoyed. Chicken mole? Prepared with the most exquisite care, and yet he refuses to touch it. He has not become a vegetarian recently, has he?”
Her head swam. He was not eating. That meant surely he was growing weaker with every passing minute. “You’ve got to let himgo.”
Luca was on his feet now, grabbing for the phone, but she fended him off.
“No, I’m afraid that would not work out well. He’s very irate and stubborn, as are the rest of the Gages. If you don’t want him to continue to starve himself, you need to retrieve my violin and the person who possesses it quickly.”
“We will.” Stephanie fought to keep both rage and panic out of her voice.“Let me talk to my dad. Just for a minute. Surely that won’t hurt anything? I’ve got to speak to him.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“No, please.” She hated the pleading note in her voice. “I...” She swallowed. “I would really appreciate it.”
Bittman laughed. “Oh, Stephanie. A conciliatory tone does not win you any points with me. I admire you the way you are, fiery and totally unapologetic.”
She gritted her teeth. “Let me talk to my father.”
“Not right now, Stephanie. You have a violin to find,” he laughed softly, “and a lovely slice of pie to enjoy. Goodbye.”
Stephanie sat frozen, phone in her hand, staring down at the fat wedge of chocolate pie waiting for her on the scratched diner table.
SIX
T ate had the sensation of being watched as he sauntered along the sidewalk. Striving to keep his gait casual, shoulders relaxed, he walked by the alley, littered with stacks of boxes, the end concealed by a rust-blackened Dumpster. After a few paces he turned around, in time to see a figure ducking into the alley to escape detection.
Tate made his way as quietly as hecould down the passage, passing by garish graffiti, trying to avoid
Stephanie sighed, uncertain whether to be encouraged or disappointed at the news. “Tuney?”
“He’s on board. He’s going to work the helicopter angle, see if he can figure out where Bittman might have taken Dad.”
She swallowed. “Do you think he’ll be able to get a lead?”
“He’s checking into the medical aspect, too, to see if Bittman hired aprivate nurse or doctor.”
She tried to breathe out her terror. Tuney was a gruff character, crabby and volatile on the outside, but she knew him to be loyal, and most important, he understood what it was like to lose someone. “Good.” She opened her laptop. “I’ll keep working on the police report from Hans Bittman’s store.” It brought a surge of relief to be doing something. One step closerto Dad, she thought. She put her cell phone on the table. The waitress brought her a slice of pie that made her mouth water in spite of the mangled state of her nerves.
The laptop hadn’t finished booting up when her phone vibrated with an unknown number. The hospital? She answered.
“Good afternoon, Stephanie.”
Her breath froze in her lungs. “What do you want?”
Bittman laughed.“Is it unusual for a man to call and check on the progress of his employee?”
“We’re not your employees, and we’ll give you a report when we have some news,” she hissed.
Luca gestured angrily for her to hand him the phone.
She mouthed the word no . Bittman did not want to talk to Luca; she knew that much.
“You’ve made contact with Devlin?” Bittman asked.
“Yes, and he’s givenus some info.”
“Excellent. I’m confident that you will not have any interaction with the local police. They will only slow things down. No police whatsoever. That is clear, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have an update for you. It seems as though your father is determined to shed a few pounds.”
She clutched at the phone. “What? What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing at the moment,but he is rejecting any food, even though we have provided him with some tantalizing fare. Ethnic food, I recall you said he enjoyed. Chicken mole? Prepared with the most exquisite care, and yet he refuses to touch it. He has not become a vegetarian recently, has he?”
Her head swam. He was not eating. That meant surely he was growing weaker with every passing minute. “You’ve got to let himgo.”
Luca was on his feet now, grabbing for the phone, but she fended him off.
“No, I’m afraid that would not work out well. He’s very irate and stubborn, as are the rest of the Gages. If you don’t want him to continue to starve himself, you need to retrieve my violin and the person who possesses it quickly.”
“We will.” Stephanie fought to keep both rage and panic out of her voice.“Let me talk to my dad. Just for a minute. Surely that won’t hurt anything? I’ve got to speak to him.”
“Perhaps another time.”
“No, please.” She hated the pleading note in her voice. “I...” She swallowed. “I would really appreciate it.”
Bittman laughed. “Oh, Stephanie. A conciliatory tone does not win you any points with me. I admire you the way you are, fiery and totally unapologetic.”
She gritted her teeth. “Let me talk to my father.”
“Not right now, Stephanie. You have a violin to find,” he laughed softly, “and a lovely slice of pie to enjoy. Goodbye.”
Stephanie sat frozen, phone in her hand, staring down at the fat wedge of chocolate pie waiting for her on the scratched diner table.
SIX
T ate had the sensation of being watched as he sauntered along the sidewalk. Striving to keep his gait casual, shoulders relaxed, he walked by the alley, littered with stacks of boxes, the end concealed by a rust-blackened Dumpster. After a few paces he turned around, in time to see a figure ducking into the alley to escape detection.
Tate made his way as quietly as hecould down the passage, passing by garish graffiti, trying to avoid
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