Di Silva raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "You shock me, Miss Parker. You're always saying that everyone is ent.i.tled to a lawyer."

"Everyone is," Jennifer replied evenly, "but I have a hard and fast rule: I won't represent anyone who lies to me. Mr. Jackson will have to get himself another lawyer."

Judge Barnard nodded. "The court will arrange that."

Osborne said, "I'd like his bail revoked immediately, Your Honor. I think he's too dangerous to be walking the streets."

Judge Barnard turned to Jennifer. "As of this moment you're still the attorney of record, Miss Parker. Do you have any objection to that?"

"No," Jennifer said tightly. "None."

Judge Barnard said, "I'll order his bail revoked."

Judge Lawrence Waldman had invited Jennifer to a charity dinner that evening. She had felt drained after the events of the afternoon and would have preferred to go home and have a quiet evening with Joshua, but she did not want to disappoint the judge. She changed clothes at the office and met Judge Waldman at the Waldorf-Astoria, where the party was taking place.

It was a gala event, with half a dozen Hollywood stars entertaining, but Jennifer was unable to enjoy it. Her mind was elsewhere. Judge Waldman had been watching her.

"Is anything wrong, Jennie?"

She managed a smile. "No, just a business problem, Lawrence."

And what kind of business am I really in, Jennifer wondered, Jennifer wondered, dealing with the dregs of humanity, the rapists and killers and kidnappers? dealing with the dregs of humanity, the rapists and killers and kidnappers? She decided it would be a wonderful night to get drunk. She decided it would be a wonderful night to get drunk.

The captain came over to the table and whispered in Jennifer's ear. "Excuse me, Miss Parker, there's a telephone call for you."

Jennifer felt an instant sense of alarm. The only one who knew where to reach her was Mrs. Mackey. She could only be calling because something was wrong.

"Excuse me," Jennifer said.

She followed the captain to a small office off the lobby.

Jennifer picked up the receiver and a man's voice whispered, "You b.i.t.c.h! You double-crossed me."

Jennifer felt her body begin to tremble. "Who is this?" she asked.

But she knew.

"You told the cops to come and get me."

"That's not true! I-"

"You promised to help me."

"I will help you. Where are-?"

"You lying c.u.n.t!" His voice dropped so low she could hardly make out his words. "You're going to pay for this. Oh, you're going to pay for this!"

"Wait a min-"

The telephone was dead. Jennifer stood there, chilled. Something had gone terribly wrong. Frank Jackson, alias Jack Scanlon, had somehow escaped and he was blaming Jennifer for what had happened. How had he known where she was? He must have followed her here. He could be waiting outside for her now.

Jennifer was trying to control the trembling of her body, trying to think, to reason out what had happened. He had seen the police coming to arrest him, or perhaps they had picked him up and he had gotten away from them. How How did not matter. The important thing was that he was blaming her for what had happened. did not matter. The important thing was that he was blaming her for what had happened.

Frank Jackson had killed before and he could kill again. Jennifer went into the ladies' room and stayed there until she was calm again. When she had regained control of herself, she returned to the table.

Judge Waldman took one look at her face. "What on earth's happened?"

Jennifer told him briefly. He was aghast.

"Good G.o.d! Would you like me to drive you home?"

"I'll be all right, Lawrence. If you could just make sure I get to my car safely, I'll be fine."

They quietly slipped out of the large ballroom and Judge Waldman stayed with Jennifer until the attendant brought her car.

"You're certain you don't want me to come with you?"

"Thanks. I'm sure the police will pick him up before morning. There aren't many people walking around who look like him. Good night."

Jennifer drove off, making sure no one was following her. When she was certain she was alone, she turned onto the Long Island Expressway and headed for home.

She kept looking in her rearview mirror, checking the cars behind her. Once she pulled off the road to let all the traffic pa.s.s her, and when the road behind her was clear, she drove on. She felt safer now. It could not be many hours before the police picked up Frank Jackson. There would be a general alert out for him by this time.

Jennifer turned into her driveway. The grounds and the house, which should have been brightly lighted, were dark. She sat in the car staring at the house unbelievingly, her mind beginning to shriek with alarm. Frantically, she tore the car door open and raced to the front door. It was ajar. Jennifer stood there for an instant, filled with terror, then stepped into the reception hall. Her foot kicked something warm and soft and she let out an involuntary gasp. She turned on the lights. Max lay on the blood-soaked rug. The dog's throat had been cut from ear to ear.

"Joshua!" It was a scream. "Mrs. Mackey!"

Jennifer ran from room to room, switching on all the lights and calling out their names, her heart pounding so hard that it was difficult for her to breathe. She raced up the stairs to Joshua's bedroom. His bed had been slept in, but it was empty.

Jennifer searched every room in the house, then raced downstairs, her mind numb. Frank Jackson must have known all along where she lived. He had followed her home one night from her office or after she left the service station. He had taken Joshua and he was going to kill him to punish her.

She was pa.s.sing the laundry room when she heard a faint scrabbling sound coming from the closet. Jennifer moved toward the closed door slowly and pulled it open. It was black inside.

A voice whimpered, "Please don't hurt me any more."

Jennifer turned on the light. Mrs. Mackey was lying on the floor, her hands and feet tightly bound with wire. She was only half-conscious.

Jennifer quickly knelt beside her. "Mrs. Mackey!"

The older woman looked up at Jennifer and her eyes began to focus.

"He took Joshua." She began to sob.

As gently as she could, Jennifer untwisted the wire that was cutting into Mrs. Mackey's arms and legs. They were raw and bleeding. Jennifer helped the housekeeper to her feet.

Mrs. Mackey cried hysterically. "I c-couldn't stop him. I t-tried. I-"

The sound of the telephone cut into the room. The two women were instantly silenced. The telephone rang again and again, and somehow it had an evil sound. Jennifer walked over to it and picked it up.

The voice said, "I just wanted to make sure you got home all right."

"Where is my son?"

"He is a beautiful boy, isn't he?" the voice asked.

"Please! I'll do anything. Anything you like!"

"You've already done everything, Mrs. Parker."

"No, please!" She was sobbing helplessly.

"I like to hear you cry," the voice whispered. "You'll get your son back, Mrs. Parker. Read tomorrow's papers."

And the line went dead.

Jennifer stood there, fighting against the faintness, trying to think. Frank Jackson had said, "He is is a beautiful boy, isn't he?" That could mean Joshua was still alive. Otherwise, wouldn't he have said a beautiful boy, isn't he?" That could mean Joshua was still alive. Otherwise, wouldn't he have said was was beautiful? She knew she was simply playing games with words, trying to keep her sanity. She had to do something quickly. beautiful? She knew she was simply playing games with words, trying to keep her sanity. She had to do something quickly.

Her first impulse was to telephone Adam, ask him to help. It was his son who had been kidnapped, his son who was going to be killed. But she knew there was nothing Adam could do. He was two hundred and thirty-five miles away. She had only two choices: One was to call Robert Di Silva, tell him what had happened and ask him to throw out a dragnet to try to catch Frank Jackson. Oh, G.o.d, that will take too long! Oh, G.o.d, that will take too long!

The second choice was the FBI. They were trained to handle kidnappings. The problem was that this was not like other kidnapping. There would be no ransom note for them to trace, no chance to try to trap Frank Jackson and save Joshua's life. The FBI moved according to its own strict ritual. It would not be of any help in this instance. She had to decide quickly...while Joshua was still alive. Robert Di Silva or the FBI. It was difficult to think.

She took a deep breath and made her decision. She looked up a telephone number. Her fingers were trembling so badly she had to dial the number three times before she got it right.

When a man answered, Jennifer said, "I want to speak to Michael Moretti."

36.

"Sorry, lady. This is Tony's Place. I don't know no Mike Moretti."

"Wait!" Jennifer screamed. "Don't hang up!" She forced a calmness into her voice. "This is urgent. I'm a-a friend of his. My name is Jennifer Parker. I need to talk to him right away."

"Look, lady, I said-"

"Give him my name and this telephone number."

She gave him the number. Jennifer was beginning to stutter so badly she could hardly speak. "T-t-tell him-"

The line went dead.

Numbly, Jennifer replaced the receiver. She was back to one of her first two choices. Or both of them. There was no reason why Robert Di Silva and the FBI could not join forces to try to find Joshua. The thing that was driving her mad was that she knew how little chance they would have of finding Frank Jackson. There was no time. Read tomorrow's papers. Read tomorrow's papers. There was a finality about his last words that made Jennifer certain he would not telephone her again, would not give anyone a chance to trace him. But she had to do There was a finality about his last words that made Jennifer certain he would not telephone her again, would not give anyone a chance to trace him. But she had to do something. something. She would try Di Silva. She reached for the telephone again. It rang as she touched it, startling her. She would try Di Silva. She reached for the telephone again. It rang as she touched it, startling her.

"This is Michael Moretti."

"Michael! Oh, Michael, help me, please! I-" She began to sob uncontrollably. She dropped the telephone, then picked it up again quickly, terrified he had hung up. "Michael?" "Michael?"

"I'm here." His voice was calm. "Get hold of yourself and tell me what's wrong."

"I-I'll-" She took in quick, deep breaths, trying to stop the trembling. "It's my son, Joshua. He's-he's been kidnapped. They're going to-kill him."

"Do you know who took him?"

"Y-yes. His name is F-Frank Jackson." Her heart was pounding.

"Tell me what happened." His voice was quiet and confident.

Jennifer forced herself to talk slowly, recounting the sequence of events.

"Can you describe what Jackson looks like?"

Jennifer conjured up a picture of him in her mind. She put the picture into words, and Michael said, "You're doing fine. Do you know where he served time?"

"At Joliet. He told me he's going to kill-"

"Where was the gas station he worked at?"

She gave Michael the address.

"Do you know the name of the motel he was staying at?"

"Yes. No." She could not remember. She dug her fingernails into her forehead until it began to bleed, forcing herself to think. He waited patiently.

It came to her suddenly. "It's the Travel Well Motel. It's on Tenth Avenue. But I'm sure he isn't there now."

"We'll see."

"I want my son back alive."

Michael Moretti did not reply and Jennifer understood why.

"If we find Jackson-?"

Jennifer took a deep, shuddering breath. "Kill him!" "Kill him!"

"Stay by your telephone."