Page 35 of John’s Yearning

“Two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.”

“In cash?”

“Yes, cold, hard cash.”

“Fuck!” he cursed. “There’s only one reason why she would do that.”

“That’s why I was about to call you. She must have received a ransom note. And now she’s going to pay the kidnappers.”

John pulled his cell phone from his pocket and looked at it. “No missed calls, no text messages.” Why hadn’t Savannah called him? He pulled up her number and pressed the call button. It rang, once, twice, three times, then a fourth time, before it went to voicemail.

“This is Savannah Rice. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you at my earliest convenience.”

Beep.

“Savannah, where are you? I need to talk to you. I know about the money. Please call me!”

He disconnected, then sent her a text message with the same plea.

“Something’s not right,” Deirdre said.

He knew that already. “A lot of things aren’t right. She shouldn’t have received a ransom note. None of the other parents have.”

“Then maybe her case isn’t connected to the others?”

John shook his head. “No, they’re connected. Somehow. I just haven’t found out how yet.” But he had no time to discuss this now. “I need to find Savannah. Now.”

“Her cell phone is on, I’ll see if I can get access to her GPS,” Deirdre offered.

“Good,” he agreed, already heading for the door. “I’m trying her flat. Call me as soon as you have a location for me.”

He didn’t even wait for Deirdre’s reply and instead raced out the door and down the hallway. The thought that Savannah was meeting the kidnappers on her own, sent a chill down his spine. What if something went wrong?

Arriving at his car, John jumped in and raced out of the parking garage. It was rush hour traffic now. The Mission was a congested area at the best of times; during rush hour it was murder.

“Come on, you idiots,” John yelled at the other drivers. But it did no good. All it served was to aggravate him even more.

Besides, what would he do once he arrived at Savannah’s flat? The sun still had not set. He hated that it was summer, when the days were longer, giving him less time to move around freely. It would be another hour until the sun set and he would be safe to leave the protective cocoon of his specially modified car.

But he couldn’t think that far ahead right now. First, he had to get to Savannah’s place, or to wherever Deirdre found her cell phone. Impatiently, he activated the hands-free communication in his car and pressed Deirdre’s number.

She answered instantly. “Yes?”

“Have you got the location?”

“I’m working on it,” she said tersely. “You interrupting me isn’t going to make it happen any faster.”

A click in the line. Deirdre had hung up on him.

“Fuck!” But he wasn’t even angry at Deirdre or her attitude, but at the circumstances he found himself in: stuck in traffic unable to get to Savannah any faster than a snail crawling across a patch of grass.

He tried Savannah’s phone again, but it simply rang, then went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message this time.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him more: that Savannah was trying to meet with the kidnapper on her own, or that he hadn’t seen this coming. It made him feel helpless, and he hated that feeling.

Knowing it would take him at least another fifteen minutes to reach Savannah’s flat, he dialed Damian’s number. It rang twice, before Damian picked up.

“Where are you?”