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She peered over the metal railing and looked straight down. The mountain dropped away steeply here, but it wouldn’t be impossible for a man or woman in decent physical shape to retrieve the shopping bag with the ransom when she dropped it over the side. This was actually a lot better than where Sean’s parents had been instructed to leave the ransom for their son—it was highly unlikely a passerby would innocently intervene. And if she dropped it unobtrusively...when no one was looking their way...
Dirk’s smartphone rang. He quickly stopped pretending to take pictures and answered it. “Dirk DeWinter.”
Mei-li automatically noted the time—eleven on the dot. Either the kidnappers were gambling Dirk had followed their instructions to the letter, or one of the kidnappers was watching them. Watching, and relaying to the kidnapper still with the little girls that Dirk was in place, waiting to receive the phone call.
Dirk was facing away from her, but even if he hadn’t been she wouldn’t have been able to see his eyes beneath his dark sunglasses. She didn’t have to, though. She could see the rigid way he held himself. And she could hear him.
“No, baby, Daddy can’t come get you, not yet,” he said in a low voice. He listened for a few precious seconds. “I know. I know that stuff they made you breathe was nasty, Linden. Yes, Nana knows it was nasty, too.” Another five seconds of silence, then, “Yes, Mommy’s watching from heaven, and she wants you to be brave, no matter what, okay?” He darted a look at his wristwatch. “Put Laurel on the phone, baby. Please. Please.” The anguish in his voice was unbearable, and tears sprang to Mei-li’s eyes. “Laurel, Daddy loves you. And I’ll come get you—no, don’t cry, Laurel. Please don’t cry. I’ll come get you as soon as I can, I promise. You be a good girl for me, okay? You do what—”
She didn’t have to hear the click to know the call had been cut off midsentence. And she didn’t have to see Dirk’s face to know he wasn’t taking it well. His free hand was gripping the iron railing so tightly his fist was bloodless white. In a hollow, dead voice, he said, “Drop the bag. Do it.”
Mei-li dashed the tears from her eyes and checked to make sure no one was close by. Then, using her body to shield what she was doing from anyone who happened to glance in their direction, she quickly lifted the bag from the rail post and dropped it over the side. She heard the rustle of the deep grass below as the bag passed through, then a tiny thud as it hit the ground.
She moved to Dirk’s side and placed a hand on his arm. He was still gripping his iPhone with one hand, the railing with the other. The arm she touched was corded steel. “It’s done,” she told him. “We need to go. The instructions said to leave and don’t look back.”
“They were both crying,” Dirk said, still in that same dead voice.
She responded the only way she could. “But they’re alive. And as long as we follow the instructions, they’ll stay alive.” She removed his cell phone from his hand and dropped it in her purse, then used both her hands to pry his fingers loose from the railing. “Come on, tim sum,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were talking to a child. She twined her fingers with his. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 13
Dirk barely noticed as Mei-li led him by hand back through the bustle and chatter of tourists, all enjoying themselves. Barely noticed her calling Patrick and instructing him where to pick them up. The sounds all around him were curiously muffled, as if they were far distant. All he could hear were Linden’s and Laurel’s sobs as they begged him—begged him—to come get them, to save them from the bad men. All he could hear was his own voice telling them to be brave, to be good. Rashly promising to come get them as soon as he could.
He moved like a dead man walking, shutting down his emotions, encasing them in ice, the same way he’d managed to survive Bree’s funeral. Can’t deal with it? his mind seemed to be telling him. Shut it down. Don’t feel.
The pain was there, but it was so far removed it was as if it was someone else’s. Which was the only way he could survive this moment. And the next. And the next. You’re an actor, he reminded himself. You’re not Dirk DeWinter anymore. You’re not even Derek Summers. You’re someone else. Someone whose daughters weren’t taken. Someone whose heart wasn’t torn out and left bleeding at the overlook.
