Harlan Coben by No Second Chance Page B

get away. I just want my daughter back.”
    â€œWe understand that,” Tickner said, “but there is something you’re forgetting.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPlease,” he said. “Sit down.”
    â€œLook, do me a favor, okay? Just let me stand. I’m a doctor. I know the delivering-bad-news drill as well as anyone. Don’t try to play me.”
    Tickner held his palms up and said, “Fair enough.” He proceeded to take a long, lingering breath. Stall tactic. I was not in the mood.
    â€œSo what is it?” I said.
    â€œWhoever did this,” he began, “they shot you. They killed your wife.”
    â€œI understand that.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think you do. Think about it a second. We can’t just let you go in on your own. Whoever did this tried to end your life. They shot you twice and left you for dead.”
    â€œMarc,” Regan said, moving closer, “we threw some wild theories at you before. The problem is, that’s all they are. Theories. We don’t know what these guys are really after. Maybe this is just a simple kidnapping, but if it is, it’s not like any we’ve seen before.” His interrogation face was gone now, replaced with an aw-shucks, eyebrow-raised attempt at openness. “What we do know with certainty is that they tried to kill you. You don’t try to kill the parents, if you’re just after ransom.”
    â€œMaybe they planned on getting the money from my father-in-law,” I said.
    â€œThen why did they wait so long?”
    I had no answer.
    â€œMaybe,” Tickner went on, “this isn’t about kidnapping at all. At least, not at first. Maybe that’s become a sideline. Maybe you and your wife were the targets all along. And maybe they want to finish the job.”
    â€œYou think this is a setup?”
    â€œIt’s a strong possibility, yes.”
    â€œSo what are you advising?”
    Tickner took that one. “Don’t go alone. Buy us some time so we can prepare properly. Let them call you back.”
    I looked at Lenny. He saw it and nodded. “That’s not possible,” Lenny said.
    Tickner turned at him hard. “With all due respect, your client is in grave danger here.”
    â€œSo is my daughter,” I said. Simple words. This decision was a no-brainer when you kept it simple. I pulled away and started toward my car. “Keep your people at a distance.”

chapter 5
    There was no traffic, so I made it to the mall with plenty of time to spare. I turned the engine off and sat back. I glanced around. I figured that the feds and cops were probably still on me, but I couldn’t see them. That was a good thing, I guess.
    Now what?
    No idea. I waited some more. I fiddled with the radio, but nothing caught my attention. I turned on the CD player/tape deck. When Donald Fagan of Steely Dan began singing “Black Cow,” I felt a slight jerk. I had not listened to this particular tape since, what, my college days. Why did Monica have it? And then, with a renewed pang, I realized that Monica had been the last to use this car, that this may have been the last song she ever heard.
    I watched the shoppers prepare for mall entry. I concentrated on the young mothers; the way they flipped open the back door of the minivan; the way they unfolded the baby strollers midair with a magician’s flourish; the way they struggled to release their offspring from safety seats that reminded me of Buzz Aldrin’s on Apollo 11 ; the way the mothers skirted forward, heads high, smartly pressing the remote control that slid the minivan door to a close.
    The mothers, all of them, looked so blasé. Their children were with them. Their safety, what with the five-star side-collision rating and NASA-sleek car seats, was a given. And here I sat with a bag of ransom money, hoping to get my daughter back. The thin line. I wanted to roll down the window and shout out a