Page 10 of Played

His tone is equally snide. “I don’t see how you have a choice, Harris.”

That’s when I see it. My da’s truck pulling up to the scene, with my brother Ethan inside. My fist immediately balls up despite my efforts to keep calm. Two more police cruisers have arrived, cordoning off the area where the car is being hauled onto the flatbed. The officer with the briefcase has an earpiece, and he’s listening to the conversation. He’s also got a notepad and pen in hand, and he’s scrawling something on it. I read the script, which says, ‘keep him talking for at least sixty seconds.’

I roll my eyes. I’m almost at the end of my rope. But I have to keep my head in this for Peg. And for Laney. If anything happens to either of them, my life is effectively over. For they mean the world to me.

“I have a choice, Wesley, and so do you. You let me talk to Peg and I’ll see that you get your twelve million dollars.”

“Something tells me you’re buying time, Caleb. I don’t like that. You’re playing me and I don’t like to be played.”

“I assure you there is no playing going on here.” I lick my lips. “But I confess I do need your banking information again.”

He laughs mirthlessly. “I knew it. You’re talking to the cops, aren’t you.”

“What the fuck would give you that impression.” I spit back, lying through my fucking teeth, and feeling not at all bad about it.

Briefcase cop points at his watch, indicating that he still needs more time. He lifts up two fingers and then makes a zero with his index finger and thumb, showing me that he needs twenty more seconds.

“Because you’re stalling, you asshole. What, do you think this is my first rodeo?”

“I think it is, actually.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “I’ve been around the block enough times to know the pros from the schmucks.”

“Ditto, cowboy. I’d say you’re pretty green behind the ears, too. You think I don’t know you’ve got a tap on your phone right now? You think I don’t know that a cop is standing right next to you, telling you he needs another twenty seconds?”

My face falls. I look around. So does briefcase cop. He’s fucking here. He can see us, the motherfucker. “Where are you, you son of a bitch.” I say, in a guttural growl.

He chuckles slyly. “Oh, you’re slick, Caleb. But, that’s for me to know and you to find out. I don’t give up so easily.” He clicks off before I can get his banking information, and I look at briefcase cop, as he’s feverishly punching into the screen of what looks like another phone. I wait patiently, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my temple.

“Got him.” briefcase cop says, and then he speaks into the radio on his shoulder, giving them the coordinates.

Ethan arrives next to me, and I don’t hold back, as my fist rises and delivers a clean, nose crushing punch to his face, literally driving him to the ground. “You son of a bitch!” I shout at him, as though he’s the kidnapper.

“What the fuck!” He screams, although his scream is muffled by his hands cupping his face.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Freya Stewart, you asshole! You might have just cost me Peg’s life!”

Da pulls me away from him, as I'm about to kick him in the ribs. “Caleb! Get a hold of yourself! What’s going on!”

“Freya Stewart could have tricked Wesley Higgins into thinking that he was going to get his ransom, but fuckhead here fucked around with her and didn’t tell me! So, here I am, making like all is fine and dandy, meanwhile she wants to see us all dead because of Ethan!”

More cops have arrived. The place looks like a Hollywood movie scene, with flashing lights, squawking of radios, bleeping of sirens, the whole works. Bodies are running towards a building off the freeway, as I berate my brother over his stupidity, while my da tries to calm me down.

“Stop this nonsense, Caleb! Fighting over a lass when the bairn is in trouble! Focus, son!” Da shouts, holding my shoulders firmly with both his hands, as Ethan gets up and dusts himself off. I’m sure I broke his nose, as it’s swollen and bleeding. My best work yet.

When we hear the shout and the gunshot is when our gazes dart over to the site of the blast. I bolt, fearing the worst, feeling my heart beat out of my chest, forgetting about my shithead brother and how he fucked things up for me and Peg. As I get to the building, I’m stopped, dead in my tracks, by a police officer on watch. “I’m sorry, but I can't let you in there, while officers are doing their job, sir.”

“But my daughter is in there! He’s got my daughter!” I plead.

“Nothing has been confirmed yet, sir. Please stand back and let the police do their jobs.”

I strain to hear her little cry, her little voice, any shred of evidence that Peg is inside the building, safe and unharmed. I know that if there is so much as a scratch on her, that I’ll kill Wesley Higgins. I will kill him. Mark my words. But I hear nothing. I see, from the lobby, that the elevator is on service, meaning that Higgins is on one of the floors. The building is only four floors, half empty, as it’s a newer complex, inhabited by businesses, not lived in, and it appears to be on lockdown, even though there are zero cars in the parking lot. How the hell Higgins set up camp here so fast is beyond me. And then I realize that Ned must have been in on this, after all. “The vagrant. It’s a scam. He had to have been in on it.”

“How’s that?” The cop asks, folding his arms across his chest, contemplatively.

“How else would he have known to stop here? Right in front of the building where his partner is?”

“With all due respect, sir, the police had to take him down, along with some of your own men.”

The lightbulb goes off. I look around. I see one of my suits get into a car across the way, nonchalantly, with someone I don’t recognize, but I can only presume it’s Nathan Mackenzie, the man caught in Laney’s security video. “Hey!” I shout. “Stop!”

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