Waiting

Chapter Twenty-six

Janelle cleared her throat. “His number is 2-4-4-8.”

         Both Cliff and Monty turned with opened mouths, as if they forgot she was sitting there.

         She took a deep breath. “Try 2-4-4-8 with the Greenvale prefix. And his first name is Ben.”

         “Ben Thorne.” Cliff picked up the receiver, a smile shadowing his face. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.”

         Lord, please get me out of here. In one piece. Soon.

         Janelle waited as Cliff dialed the number. She heard two rings and then a voice rumbled “hello.” She closed her eyes. That was him.

         “Thorne!” Cliff’s voice was hard. “Your forty-eight hours are up, Ben Thorne. You owe us thirty grand, remember?”

         The rumbling voice spoke some words Janelle couldn’t make out.

         “Hah!” A triumphant smile lit Cliff’s face. “You think so, do you? Well, me and Monty have kidnapped your girl. So if you want her back, you’ll have to pay.”

         Cliff’s smile faded as he listened. “What’d you mean, you ain’t got a girl? This is—” He looked at Janelle. “Uh, what’s your name?”

         “I’m Mr. Thorne’s receptionist.” She wasn’t about to tell these buffoons her name.

         “Uh, yeah, your receptionist. Well, anyway, we kidnapped her, and we’re going to keep her here until you bring us the thirty grand—in cash, Thorne.”

         Ben must have had a violent reaction, because Cliff listened for a few minutes, the grin back on his face. Every few seconds he’d comment—“Yeah, we got her,” and “We’ve really put you over a barrel, Thorne,” and “You’d better come up with the cash.”

         During this exchange, Monty jumped up and leaned over the counter. “What’s he saying, Cliff?”

         Janelle took the opportunity to pull her cell phone from her purse. She slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans, hoping no one would try to call her. That would be great—the tinny sound of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” would give away her only connection with the outside world.

         “Okay, Thorne, listen.” Cliff’s expression grew serious. “We’re at an abandoned gas station off Route 21, south of the town of Belleview. You come here alone. Got it? No cops.”

         Ben said something.

Cliff glanced at Janelle. “I ain’t letting the girl go. We’ll hold her till you get here, if it takes all week.” He listened a moment. “Yeah, yeah. We ain’t gonna hurt her.”

Janelle sighed. How could Ben come up with thirty thousand dollars in cash at this hour? Her stomach growled. No supper, and she might have to spend the night sitting on this chair.

Cliff hung up the phone. “We got him, Monty! He didn’t like us kidnapping his secretary, no sir! That was the best plan we ever had.”

Monty took his seat. “Yeah, but how long is it gonna take him? There ain’t any beds in this joint, you know.”

“Beds, schmeds!” Cliff rubbed his hands together as he laughed. “When Thorne gives us the money, we’ll be able to get the best hotel in St. Louis.”

Janelle cleared her throat. “Is there a ladies’ restroom in this joint?”

Cliff folded his arms. “You ain’t going anywhere, doll face. We’re keeping our eyes on you 24/7.”

“Cliff—” Monty motioned with his head toward Janelle, then contorted his face, as if he was trying to signal something to his partner.

“What are you doing?” Cliff frowned.

Monty huffed out a breath. “All right, I’ll just say it. I think we should all take a trip to the restroom. After all, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“All right, already!” Cliff rolled his eyes. “Two minutes, doll face. Monty will guard the door.”

“Two minutes?” Janelle stood and hooked the purse strap over her shoulder.

“Okay, five. And leave the purse here.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, we ain’t gonna steal it.” Cliff glanced at Monty. “We have bigger fish to fry.”

Janelle set her purse on the chair and walked outside with Monty. They went to the back corner of the building where a door read WOMEN.

“Remember, toots, five minutes.” Monty sat down on the edge of the sidewalk that ran around the building.

Janelle opened the gray metal door into the bathroom. She glanced at the stained sink. Shreds of toilet paper were strewn around the filthy linoleum floor. She closed the door and pushed in the button, satisfied to hear a click.

At least the lock worked.

Walking as far from the door as possible, she pulled the cell phone from her pocket.

* * *

Until tomorrow, God bless!