Run Away - Harlan Coben Page 0,104
is?” Ash asked.
“None.”
“This isn’t good.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“And what’s the deal with Mother Adiona?” he asked.
“That I don’t know.”
“She told me not to trust you.”
“But you do, Ash.”
“I do, Dee Dee.”
She smiled at him. “We can worry about her later, okay?”
They found a spot in front of some concrete barriers in the Mott Haven section of the Bronx. They both had guns on them. They also both had knives. This one was to look like a stabbing—something, Ash thought, that probably occurred a lot amongst the various drug factions on these streets.
He was about to open his door when he heard her say, “Ash?”
Her tone stopped him. He looked toward her. She gestured with her chin up ahead. She took out her phone and held up the image she’d screenshot from the PPG Wealth Management website.
“That’s him, right?” she asked.
Ash took a look. No question. Simon Greene was walking into the building.
“Who is that with him?”
“My guess? Cornelius.”
Dee Dee nodded. “I’m thinking this isn’t going to be a stabbing, Ash.”
“Yep.”
She glanced toward the weapons bag in the backseat. “I’m thinking it’s going to be more like a gun massacre.”
* * *
Rocco was the kind of gigantic it was hard to fathom, so that each time you saw him, you were struck anew by the sheer size of him. When he strolled around Cornelius’s apartment, Simon half expected to hear fee-fie-fo-fum à la “Jack and the Beanstalk.”
Rocco squinted at the books on the shelves. “You read all these, Cornelius?”
“I have. You should try it. Reading gives you empathy.”
“Is that a fact?” Rocco grabbed a book off the shelf, paged through it. “Do you have the fifty grand, Mr. Greene?”
“Do you have my daughter?” Simon countered.
“No.”
“Then I don’t have fifty grand.”
“Where’s Luther?” Cornelius asked.
“Stay cool, Cornelius. He’s close by.” Rocco lifted his mobile phone. “Luther?”
A voice came through the phone’s tinny speaker. “I’m here, Rocco.”
“Just stay put,” Rocco said. “Our friend here doesn’t have the money.”
“I have money,” Simon said. “It’s not fifty grand, but if whatever you tell me helps me find my daughter, you get the full amount. You have my word.”
“Your word?” Rocco was a big man and had a laugh to match. “And what, I’m just supposed to trust you because you white guys are so trustworthy?”
“No, none of that,” Simon said.
“Then why?”
“Because I’m a father.”
“Oooo.” Rocco wiggled his fingers. “You think that impresses me?”
Simon said nothing.
“Only thing that impresses me right now is cash money.”
Simon dropped the cash on the coffee table. “Almost ten thousand.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I could get on this short of notice.”
“Then buh-bye.”
Cornelius said, “Come on, Rocco.”
“I want more.”
“You’ll get more,” Simon said.
Rocco hemmed and hawed a bit, but the cash on the coffee table was calling to him. “So here’s how it is: I got something to tell you first. It’s pretty big. But then my boy Luther…Luther, you still there?”
From the phone: “Yeah.”
“Okay, you stay there. Just in case they try something. A little insurance.” Rocco flashed his teeth. “So when I’m done, I’m going to tell Luther to come in here, because he’s got something way bigger to say.”
Cornelius said, “We’re listening.”
Rocco picked up the cash. “I got a confirmed sighting of Paige.”
Simon felt his pulse quicken. “When?”
Rocco started counting out the bills. “Two days after her old man got murdered. Seems your daughter stayed around here for a while. Hid maybe, I don’t know. Then she got on the six.”
The six train, Simon thought. Closest subway stop.
“Someone was pretty sure of that,” Rocco said, still counting. “Not definite. But pretty sure. My other boy though, he’s convinced he saw her. No doubt at all.”
“Where?” Simon asked.
Rocco finished counting, frowned. “This is less than ten grand.”
“I’ll get you another ten tomorrow. Where did he see Paige?”
Rocco looked at Cornelius. Cornelius nodded.
“Port Authority.”
“The bus terminal?”
“Yeah.”
“Any idea where she was going?”
Rocco coughed into his fist. “Tell you what, Mr. Greene. I’m going to answer that question. Then Luther—Luther, get ready, okay?—is going to tell you the rest. For fifty K. I’m not going to negotiate either. You know why?”
Cornelius said, “Rocco, come on.”
Rocco spread those huge hands wide. “Because when you hear what Luther has to say, you’ll give us the money to keep our mouths shut.”
Simon’s eyes locked on Rocco’s. Neither man blinked. But Simon could see. Rocco meant it. Whatever Luther had to say would be huge.
“But first, let me answer your question. Buffalo. Your daughter—and this is confirmed by a reliable source—got on a bus for Buffalo.”
Simon scoured his brain