“Then desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Even if I were inclined, how would I communicate with him?”
Sean pointed to Wingo’s phone. “With that.”
Michelle said, “Sean, we’re not harming Grant’s kids.”
“Of course not. I said threaten. That’s all.”
“But—” began Michelle.
“Let’s send the threat,” interrupted Sean. “And see what happens.”
Michelle got an understanding look on her face. She glanced at Wingo, who sat there still looking confused. But finally he put his gun away and held up his phone.
“Tell me how to do this.”
“First, we have to go somewhere,” replied Sean.
CHAPTER
72
ALAN GRANT WAS STARING AT a computer screen inside the vault at the radio station when the burn phone in his pocket vibrated.
He slid it out, glanced at it. Then his gaze became riveted to it.
Child for a child. You take mine, I take yours. And, unlike me, you have three to choose from.
Grant leapt up so quickly he banged his knee against the desk edge.
Limping slightly he left the radio station and hurried to his car.
He phoned home while he drove. There was no answer. He tried his wife’s cell phone. There was still no answer.
He drove fast, but it still took more than two hours before he pulled into his driveway and jumped out of the car. He was heading to the house when he saw them.
His wife had the two youngest kids and their black Lab. The youngest child was in his stroller. His five-year-old daughter was helping to push it. They had obviously been for a walk.
When she saw her husband, Leslie Grant looked surprised. “Alan, what are you doing home?” She saw the concern on his face. “Is everything okay, honey?”
“Where’s Danny?” he asked, referring to their oldest child.
She looked confused. “He’s still in school. The bus will drop him off this afternoon.” She drew closer as their daughter ran forward to her dad.
Grant rubbed his face and forced a smile as he picked her up.
Leslie drew next to him. Grant patted the Lab and tried to look unconcerned.
“Alan, is everything okay?” she said in a low voice.
“Daddy’s okay,” said their daughter, whose name was Margaret, but who went by Maggie, after her grandmother. She cupped her dad’s face in her hands. “Daddy’s okay,” she said again.
“Daddy is very okay,” said Grant, wrapping an arm around his wife as he held Maggie with the other.
“Look,” he said. “How about I take you three out to lunch? Sound good?”
“You’ll have to give me a few minutes