certain she would need it during the course of the day when it all
started to become too much, as she knew it would. She smoothed down her
dress and went over to the nightstand, sat down on the bed and picked up
the phone.
“Hello, Henry.”
“Sid.”
If she hadn’t been sitting down, Sidney would have undoubtedly toppled
to the floor. As it was, her entire body collapsed. Her brain felt as
though it had been crushed.
“Sid?” The voice said again, more anxiously.
One step at a time, Sidney managed to focus herself. She felt as though
she were struggling to the water’s surface from some terrible depths
where humans could not survive. Her brain suddenly restarted and she
struggled up an inch at a time. As she fought an overpowering urge to
pass out, Sidney Archer managed to utter one word in a way she never
thought she would again. The two syllables struggled out from between
trembling lips.
“Jason?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
While Sidney’s mother walked through the living room to join her husband
at the front door, Paul Brophy discreetly retreated until he was once
again in the kitchen. FBI? This was getting interesting.
While he was pondering whether to contact Goldman, Brophy spotted the
phone receiver lying on the counter where Bill Patterson had set it
down. Henry Wharton was on the phone. Brophy wondered what they were
discussing. He could certainly score some significant points with
Goldman if he could find out.
Brophy edged over to the kitchen doorway. The group was still huddled
in the front foyer. He hurried over to the kitchen counter, put one
hand over the lower part of the receiver and lifted the telephone to his
ear. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened while he listened to
two very familiar voices. He reached into his pocket. He held the
Dictaphone up to the phone receiver and recorded the conversation
between husband and wife.
Five minutes later, Bill Patterson again knocked on his daughter’s door.
When Sidney finally opened the door, her father was surprised by her
appearance. The eyes were still red and weary, but there seemed to be a
light in them that he had not seen since Jason’s death.
He was also startled by what he saw on the bed: a half-filled suitcase.
Without taking his eyes off the suitcase, Patterson said, “Sweetie, I
don’t know what they want, but the FBI are here. They want to talk to
you.”
“FBI?” She suddenly went limp and her father grabbed on to one arm.
Patterson’s face was a morass of concern. “Baby, what’s going on?
Why are you packing?”
Sidney managed to regain her composure. “I’m all right, Dad.
I… I just have to go somewhere after the service.”
“Go? Go where? What are you talking about?”
“Dad, please, not now. I can’t go into it right now.”
“But Sid–”
“Please, Dad.”
Under his daughter’s pleading eyes, Patterson finally looked away,
disappointment and something akin to fear on his features.
“All right, Sidney.”
“Where are the agents, Dad?”
“In the living room. They said they want to talk to you privately.
I tried to get rid of them, but, hell, they’re the FBI, you know?”
“It’s all right, Dad, I’ll talk to them.” Sidney thought for a moment.
She looked over at the phone she had just put down and then checked her
watch. “Take them into the den and tell them I’ll be there in two
minutes.”
Her hands clasped together, Sidney went over and closed the suitcase,
picked it up and slid it under the bed.
Her father followed her movements, then raised his thick eyebrows to
ask, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
Her answer was immediate. “I’m sure.”
Jason Archer was handcuffed to the chair. A smiling Kenneth Scales held
the Glock against his head. Another man hovered in the background.
“Good job on the phone, Jason,” Scales said. “You might have had a
future in the movies. Too bad you don’t have a future left.”
Jason glared up at him, fury in his eyes. “You sonofabitch! You hurt
my wife or my daughter and I’ll tear you apart. I swear to God.”