“Shit.” Marc took a long stride toward the door.
“Wait, Marc,” Casey said. “Madeline’s still in the E.R. So she’s safe. Aidan is on his way over. Let’s get all the information. Then we’ll act.”
* * *
Janet sat in the backseat with the pistol pointed at Madeline’s head.
“Drive.”
“Where?” Madeline’s shock was still so acute, she could barely speak.
“You tell me,” Janet said. “Where are the video recordings?”
“The video recordings?” Focus. Try to make sense of what Janet is asking for.
But she couldn’t.
All she could think about was the gun aimed at her head, and the nightmarish reality that she’d never get out of here alive. Oh, God. Oh, God.
Panic replaced shock. Terrified tears slid down her cheeks. How was she going to save herself? She was trapped in her car with a crazy woman holding a gun. No one knew she was missing. No one knew where she’d gone.
She didn’t know where she was going or what the hell Janet was babbling about. Video recordings? What video recordings?
“Don’t play stupid with me.” Janet’s voice seemed to come from far away and yet way too close. “I know you. You’re a perfectionist. You know where everything is—and that includes Conrad’s videos. Now turn on the damned car!”
Madeline jumped, and then tried three times to put the key in the ignition.
Finally she succeeded, and the engine roared to life.
She tried to think past the pounding of her heart. “Conrad’s...you mean the recordings of his surgeries?”
“Of course that’s what I mean,” Janet snapped.
“Why...” Madeline wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Why do you want those?”
“Not those. It. One recording.”
“The recording of Ronald’s surgery.” Slowly, what Janet was demanding pushed through Madeline’s white panic. “Is there something on it that incriminates you?”
“That’s not your problem.” Janet was getting impatient. “You know where the recordings are stored.”
Madeline wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with her life. Maybe, if she gave Janet what she wanted... Who was she kidding? Madeline knew Janet was guilty. Once Janet got what she wanted, there was no way she could let Madeline live.
Still, if she refused, Janet would just shoot her on the spot.
Bile rose up in Madeline’s throat. No. She had to fight for time, then maybe she’d find a chance to break away.
“Yes. I know where the recordings are stored,” she said.
She could feel Janet’s relief fill the car.
“Where are they?”
“In a Manhattan mini-storage on Second Avenue, way downtown.”
Janet pressed the gun closer to Madeline’s head. “Why so far? You live on the Upper East Side.”
“Because the closer one didn’t have the size unit we needed.”