“What is this,daycare?” she snaps, striding toward Ralph. “I told you to bring her alone! Not only did you ignore that instruction, you’ve created two witnesses to acrime, you amateur!”
“I’m getting pretty sick of the name-calling, Vanessa,” Ralph snarls back.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” She rolls her eyes. “Too damn bad!”
Winnie shivers in my arms and I hug him a little closer. It’s freezing down here.
Ralph’s brought us to some kind of abandoned, underground parking garage, with ripped-up concrete floors, a handful of dim lights, and low, rust-stained ceilings that drip water on our heads as we stand against the wall, waiting for the two worst kidnappers of all time to sort out their shit. The age-yellowed headlights of my car do little to illuminate the space, but the bright LEDs of Vanessa’s Mercedes cast a huge halo around the cavernous garage.
Chrissy’s got one hand pressed to her abdomen, as if she might stave off the pain with firm pressure, and her other is wrapped tight in mine, clenching hard enough to bruise the bones of my fingers each time a contraction moves through her. Right now, between waves of pain, her eyes are squeezed tightly shut as she focuses on her breathing and tries to tune out Ralph and Vanessa.
“You’re such a bitch! I don’t even know why I teamed up with you.”
“Because you needed me, asshole! It was my idea to grab her and force Chase to pay up.”
“Well, I don’t need you anymore! I can do it without you.”
“You’ve got half the Boston police force out looking for you!” Vanessa scoffs. “As soon as you make contact and Chase finds out you’ve got his girlfriend stuffed in a trunk somewhere, you’ll be dead fucking meat. You need me to negotiate. And, since you’ve been such a royal fuck up, I’m upping my price. I want seventy percent, now.”
What’s all this about a trunk!?
“We said fifty-fifty!”
“That was before you brought a pregnant woman and her spawn into the mix!”
They go on like this for a while. I rub my hand over Winnie’s back in soothing strokes, hoping it might calm him down.
“Spawn?” Chrissy whispers, so only I can hear. “Really?”
I glance at her and drop my voice so low, it’s nearly inaudible. “Tell them your contractions are getting worse. Tell them you have to sit.”
“Wouldn’t exactly be lying, if I told them that, Gem.” She winces in pain, holding her abdomen like it’s being torn apart from the inside. Probably because itis.
“My purse, in the backseat. There’s another phone inside.” My words are hushed but intent. “Get it. Call for help.”
Her eyes widen in comprehension as she nods, pushing off the wall, where we’ve been standing since Ralph forced us out of the car at gunpoint into this drippy, damp place.
Vanessa is shrieking again. “Seventy-thirty, or I walk. You’re lucky I’m not asking for more—hey!” She breaks off abruptly when she catches sight of Chrissy, waddling toward the car with measured steps. “Where the hell do you thinkyou’regoing, preggers?!”
“Oh, so youdidnotice I’m pregnant!” I have to hand it to Chrissy — she never even breaks stride as she tosses the words over her shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. But really, don’t let me interrupt your little tiff. I’m just going to sit because, well, there’s a fetus pressing against my cervix like a train barreling down the tracks. And gravity isreallynot my friend, right now, if you know what I mean.”
Ralph steps forward. “Listen, bitch, I don’t care—”
“What’s the going rate for infanticide, these days?” I ask, interrupting him. “Anyone know?”
Vanessa rolls her eyes.
“I think it’s 25 to life.” Chrissy shrugs. “Does Massachusetts have the death penalty? I can never remember.”
“Oh, I’m not sure. But I don’t think juries look too kindly on baby-killers. Not to mention the inmates, in prison. I can only imagine what they’d do to a guy responsible for the death of a pregnant woman and her unborn—”
“Okay! Okay.” Ralph’s looking a little rattled. “Get in the fucking car and don’t fucking move. And leave the door open!”
“Christ, this is a fuck-up,” Vanessa mumbles.
“Gladly,” Chrissy says, her voice more fake-sweet than a packet of Splenda as she waddles the final few steps to the car. I catch her eyes just before she slides into the backseat, and hope she reads the message in my gaze.
Please, be fast. And please, be careful.