Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

you have a number?”
    “The call didn’t register on caller ID. It must have been blocked. Is there anything I can do?” she asked, a tone of alarm in her voice.
    “No, nothing. I’ll take care of it.” Before she could say anything else, I’d disconnected. I had a sinking feeling down deep in my gut as I punched in my home number. On the first ring, she answered.
    “Hello, Sam. I’ll bet you know who this is,” said Stimson.
    Christ. How had I managed to overlook this possibility?
    “Look, Carol, whatever your beef is with me, please leave my family out of it.”
    “Sorry. Can’t do that. What a lovely home you have here. And such a nice little family. I didn’t realize the old lady is your aunt. Isn’t that interesting? Two for the price of one.”
    “Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll do it, no questions asked. But please don’t hurt them. They’ve got nothing to do with this. This is between you and me.”
    “You’ve got that right, Kincaid. Now here’s what I want you to do. If you want your family to stay alive, do it right. You have exactly twenty minutes to get here. At twenty-one minutes, your aunt is dead. At twenty-two minutes, Sara is dead. Come alone. If I get the slightest impression you’ve called out the troops, everybody dies. Got that? Park in the driveway, not in the garage. Enter through the front door. If you deviate from these instructions, even slightly, everybody dies. See you in twenty.”
    “But I can’t possibly,” I started to say. But she had already hung up.
    From where I was, getting home doing anything close to the speed limit would take thirty-five minutes. No matter how fast I drove, there was no way I could make it in twenty. But I had to try. I decided to wait until my time was almost over and then call home, hoping Stimson would answer and I could buy a few more minutes. Most of the drive was freeway.
    I had little time to consider my options. I debated calling Park City P.D., but decided against it. There wasn’t time, and besides, I knew they were too small a department to have a special operations squad. I wasn’t even sure if they had a trained hostage negotiator on board. No, I figured I had a better chance of saving Sara and Aunt June if I followed directions. On this one, I would have to go it alone.
    ***
    Sam was late and Kate was growing impatient. She realized that whenever they were scheduled to meet, he would invariably run a few minutes late. Today, however, Sam was running more than a few minutes behind schedule. Kate dialed his cell phone but didn’t get an answer. You could never tell about the guy—half the time he didn’t even keep the phone turned on. She then called his office, hoping he hadn’t gotten bogged down in an afternoon meeting. That didn’t seem likely, but if he had, he surely would have called and postponed their meeting.
    “Hi, Patti. It’s Kate. Sam was supposed to meet me in Holladay a half-hour ago, but he didn’t show up. And he’s not answering his cell. Any idea where he is?”
    “That’s funny he’s not answering his cell. I talked with him just a few minutes ago. To tell you the truth, I’m a little worried,” said Patti.
    “Why’s that?”
    “About a half-hour ago, I received a phone call from someone who said there was a family emergency and Sam should call home ASAP. I called Sam on his cell and gave him the message. I offered to call Park City P.D. and have them respond, but he told me not to.”
    “Who called?”
    “That’s what struck me as odd. The caller was a woman, and I didn’t recognize her voice. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t his Aunt June, and I know it wasn’t Sara. I suppose it could have been someone from Sara’s school.”
    “Oh, God,” said Kate. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Listen carefully, Patti. Here’s what I want you to do.”
    ***
    With my twenty minutes nearly gone, and still several minutes from home, I grabbed the cell phone and dialed my home. On the third agonizing ring, Stimson picked up.
    “Had you a little nervous there, didn’t I?” Her tone of voice suggested she was toying with me and found it amusing.
    “I’m almost there,” I replied. “If I’m going to follow your directions the rest of the way, I want proof my family is still alive. I want to speak to one of them.”
    “Hold on.”
    “Daddy,” Sara cried.
    “Hold on, honey, Daddy’s almost there.”
    “You’d better be.” It was Stimson. “And remember, if I get