Griffin hurried back into the living room. “What’s wrong?” He hadn’t seen his dad this angry for a long, long time. Back then, his mom had been around to try to jolly Roy out of it. Not that she usually succeeded.
For once, TJ and Jimbo were quiet, watching Roy with a look they normally reserved for Duke.
“Nothing,” his dad snarled. He had taken the bottle of Maker’s Mark out of the kitchen cupboard. He took a swallow of the whiskey and then looked at the two men who worked for him. “How come you’re still hanging around? How come you’re not at home?”
Jimbo knew enough to keep quiet, but not TJ. He said, “Because we wanted to hear what her folks said. How long till we get the money? How much are we going to get?”
“Who said anything about ‘we’?” Roy roared. “It’s my stupid kid who brought her back to my house. I’m the one who’ll take the fall if this thing goes south. When this thing goes south. You guys can turn state’s witness and come out of this smelling sweeter than a rose.”
“But—” TJ really didn’t know when to shut up.
“But nothing. Go home. Now.” Roy took another slug, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Can we just see her?” TJ asked.
“No,” Griffin said firmly. “She needs to rest.”
“Did you tucker her out?” TJ asked with a leer. “Come on, let TJ take a little peek. She’s one sweet thing.”
Griffin took two steps so that he stood between them and the hallway. “You heard Roy — go home.”
TJ looked at him in surprise. He didn’t back away, but he didn’t go forward, either.
Jimbo was the one who finally showed some sense. “Come on, Teej, let’s go. It sounds like nothing else is going to happen tonight.”
“Dad, what’s the matter?” Griffin asked after the door closed behind them. “They showed her parents on TV” — he decided to leave out the part about just how nice the house was — “and they said no one had contacted them. Didn’t you call them?”
Roy looked away. “It took me a while to score a mobile phone that I could use. And then when I finally had it, I couldn’t find the piece of paper with the numbers on it.”
Griffin felt confused. “What are you talking about?”
His father leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart and carefully enunciated each word. “I … lost … it.” Griffin realized how bad Roy’s mood really was. “I lost the goddamn slip of paper. So I couldn’t call. I was trying to think of the best way to do this. So I was down at the Green Roof, making notes.” The Green Roof Inn was a dive of a bar about twenty miles away, where Roy sometimes went to shoot pool and drink Fosters until he got kicked out for fighting. They always let him back in the next time, though, because if they barred all their customers for that type of behavior, they wouldn’t have any left. “So, yeah, I watched those rich bastards on the TV above the bar. All” — he pitched his voice higher — “boo-hoo, my baby’s gone.” He switched back to his normal voice. “And then when I went out to the car to call them, I couldn’t find the paper. Maybe they’re just covering up. I mean, come on, it must be a drag, having to watch after this disabled girl all the time. Maybe they want to get rid of her and start fresh.”
“I think Cheyenne’s pretty independent,” Griffin said. He suddenly felt the need to defend her. “She’s got a seeing-eye dog and everything.” He paused, then said in a rush, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should just let her go. Without asking for money. And if the cops figured out who we were, which they probably wouldn’t, we could explain it was all a mistake.”
The blow to his belly came out of nowhere. The next thing Griffin knew, he was on the floor, huddled up. The air was stuck somewhere inside him. His mouth opened like a fish hauled onto the bottom of a boat, but nothing came in and nothing went out. Time seemed to slow down and he could see everything — a paper clip on the carpet, the scuffs on the tips of Roy’s work boots — with a kind of sparkling clarity. Was he going to die?
And then finally the air came rushing back in. It hurt just as bad as when it hadn’t been there at all.
“Like that’s such a bright idea.” Roy leaned over him, shouting. “Like they’re going to overlook what it is we do here?” With every word, spit freckled Griffin’s face. “This chick could be our ticket out. On New Year’s Eve, I want to be on a beach someplace warm, drinking mai tais. And now that could happen. But only if we play our cards absolutely right.”
Griffin managed to sit up. He turned his head and rested his cheek against his bent knees.
“Sure, you screwed up when you didn’t look in the backseat. But now that could be the best thing that ever happened to us. Go get her. I want to get those phone numbers again so I can talk to that fat-cat dad of hers.”
Griffin had just learned — again — that it wasn’t worth talking back to his dad. He got up and went in to get Cheyenne. She was asleep. When he touched her shoulder, she jerked awake, then pushed him away with both hands, her breathing rushed and panicky.
“Easy, easy,” he said. “It’s just me. My dad wants to talk to you.”
“What did my parents say?” Looking both scared and excited, she sat up. “How come they acted like they hadn’t talked to him yet?”
“Because they haven’t. He needs you to give him the phone numbers again. He lost the paper that had them. But don’t say nothing to him about it. He’s in a real bad mood.”
Cheyenne wiped her face clean of all expression and nodded. Griffin untied her ankle and walked her down the hall.
Holding a mobile phone so big it was almost funny, Roy was waiting for them. “All right, what’s your home number again?”
Cheyenne recited it in a dead voice.
Griffin watched his dad’s expression as he listened to the phone ring. His face changed when someone answered.
“Listen,” Roy barked. “I’ve got the girl. I’ve got Cheyenne Wilder. I’m offering you a trade. You give me money, and I’ll give her back. It’s that simple.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want proof? I’ll give you proof.” Forgetting she was blind, he thrust the phone at Cheyenne. When she didn’t take it, he swore and fumbled it into her hand. “Don’t say anything stupid,” he warned her.
“Daddy?” Her face changed. Suddenly she looked like a little kid. “Daddy?” She bit her lip at the answer. “Oh. I’m okay, but—”
“That’s enough.” Roy yanked the phone away from her and put it back to his ear. “I’m sure you got that taped. You run that through your computers or have her parents listen to it, and they’ll tell you that I’m telling the truth. And you tell them we’re gonna need five million dollars. Nothing larger than a fifty. Unmarked, nonconsecutive bills. Or you’re gonna get her back in pieces!”
Griffin’s mouth fell open. Five million? Geez, why hadn’t his dad just asked for five hundred zillion quadrillion? Five million was impossible. Even if it was all in fifties, that would still be — he thought about it for a second — a hundred thousand bills. They would need a forklift for that.
“We’ll be in touch,” Roy said, almost jauntily. He clicked off the phone and gave Griffin a grin. His anger seemed to have evaporated. After seventeen years of living with him, Griffin knew that looks could be deceiving.
“That wasn’t even my dad you had me talk to,” Cheyenne told Roy. “Do you know that? That wasn’t even my dad.” Tears shone on her cheeks, but her voice didn’t tremble at all.
Roy shrugged. “It was probably a cop. I heard a clicking on the line. They’re probably trying to trace the phone. That’s why I hung up, just to be on the safe side. Next time I call, I’ll tell them to put the money into a bag and drop it off someplace we can watch to make sure that nobody’s followed it. After we get the money, we’ll check it out to make sure there’s not a tracking device or dye on the bills. And then we’ll let you go.”
Cheyenne nodded. She looked like she didn’t believe Roy.
Griffin didn’t think he did, either.
For the first time, he had an unsettling thought.
Roy would eventually let Cheyenne go — wouldn’t he?