Brody waves his hand as though dealing with a manservant. “Clearly a lot of people are going to great lengths to accommodate you, Mayor. And to spare Dr. Cage a trial, or even his life. So … I’ll have the name of the witness now.”
I glance at Caitlin, who’s giving a good impression of calm self-possession. “One question, Brody, before we give you that name. For my own knowledge. Who really killed Viola Turner? You? Did you order it?”
The sleek head tilts, and once again I see the eyes of a falcon sighting down on prey a thousand feet below it. “Are you stalling, Mayor? It’s really not worth it. The cavalry’s not coming. You already received a text from Sheriff Dennis, during the drive over. Read it, Randall.”
Regan taps some keys, then says: “‘Good luck with whatever your play is, brother. I’m praying for your daddy. Get some rest tonight, and I’ll get the other thing going.’”
“I wonder what the ‘other thing’ is,” Brody says, almost whimsically, as my last hope dies. “Care to tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Pity.”
Regan holds up Caitlin’s silver Treo. “And her editor thinks she and the mayor got into a fight and left to argue it out. Good thing we moved your Audi. I texted him back that she’s fine.”
Caitlin groans softly.
With surprising flexibility, Brody Royal crosses his legs on the sofa. “Well, then. As you see, for you two, there’s only one way out of here alive. The witness’s name. Colonel Knox is waiting for my call, and every minute your father stays on the run is a minute he could be shot as a cop killer.”
Cornered at last, I run through possible names that might buy us an hour. If I make up a name out of whole cloth, they’ll soon discover my ruse, but at least that will eat a little time. A real name would buy us more but would also put someone’s life at risk. The best course might be to tell Brody that I won’t give him the name until he cancels the APB, but given the circumstances of our abduction, I’m unlikely to get far with that.
“There is no witness,” Caitlin says, as though tired of keeping up a charade.
Brody’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“Nobody ever saw you at Albert Norris’s store that night. Nobody but Albert himself. Penn made up another witness to try to force you to help Tom. That’s all we want—Tom back safe. We don’t care about the cases anymore.”
The boldness of her gambit takes me aback, but there’s genius in it. We don’t know the witness’s name because there isn’t one. No threat exists, at least from that quarter, ergo you don’t need to kill us.
Brody draws back his head, looking smug. “Nice try, Princess. But I already saw a reference to that witness in your personal computer file. I believe Henry Sexton calls him ‘Huggy Bear’? Randall tells me that was the name of a colored pimp on an old cop show.”
My heart thumps against my breastbone. Royal is two steps ahead of us, and maybe more. “I think Huggy ran a bar,” I say uselessly.
“Huggy was a nigger pimp,” Regan declares, looking up from his computer. “A jive-talking pimp who dressed like Superfly.”
Brody sighs, for the first time showing his irritation. “I think we’re drifting from the main point. I’ve tried to be reasonable, but clearly neither of you is acting in good faith. Your plan was to push me to get Dr. Cage to some safe place, then throw me to the dogs. Obviously, I can’t let that happen.”
“Here’s a name,” Regan says, lifting his fingers from the keyboard. “It’s a Lusahatcha County number, nothing but a name with it. Toby Rambin. That sounds familiar to me.”
I cut my eyes at Caitlin, who’s lost a shade of color. “You can read my personal computer files?” she asks Royal.
“We’re inside your intranet,” Regan brags.
“Is Rambin the witness?” Royal asks evenly.
Caitlin shakes her head. “No. He’s lived in Mississippi his whole life.”
Brody watches her in silence for an uncomfortable period, then gives an enigmatic smile. How this man loves his games. I can’t see much point in maintaining a pretense of a negotiation. “You’re not going to let us out of here no matter what we tell you,” I say. “Your men already killed a cop right in front of me.”
Royal looks genuinely surprised. “That man’s not dead. They Tased him when he wasn’t looking, then injected him with a sedative. I’m a businessman, Cage. Killing Natchez cops wouldn’t be good for business. In five hours, he’ll wake up behind the Duck’s Nest bar with no idea how he got there.”
Could this be true? “I felt his neck with my foot. No pulse.”
“Why don’t you leave the medicine to your father?” Rising from the sofa, Brody looks deeper into Caitlin’s eyes. “Before things deteriorate any further, let me say this: For thirty seconds, my offer remains open. I’ll stand by the deal I made at the hospital. But you must give me the witness’s real name. Otherwise, I’m going to have you both taken into the next room.” He nods toward the door to the firing range. “Take my word for it … you don’t want to go in there.”
Randall Regan’s dark eyes move from Caitlin’s face to mine, then back again. “They don’t know the name,” he says, utter certainty in his voice. “Cage doesn’t, anyway. Maybe the girl does. But I don’t think so.”
Clearly Regan has more gifts than I’ve given him credit for.
“Is Randall correct?” Brody asks us both.
“I know the name,” I lie, trying to pull him away from Caitlin. “But we’re not giving it to you until you take care of the APB. Have Forrest Knox put a press release out to the wire services. I can check it on Regan’s computer.”
Royal is already shaking his head. “We’re past that point, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to prove your good faith, Mayor.”