Sweet Fortune

Dad's so proud of stealing out from under Yorland and Young?”
    “Right. And if I don't get it out of the way, your father will be calling me every day we're away, asking me when I'm going to come back and handle it.”
    “Knowing Dad, that's probably true. Don't worry about me. I'll just be sitting here patiently waiting by the hearth with your pipe and slippers.”
    “The hell you will. You're going to cook yourself an entire pound of ravioli and eat it all.”
    “Look at it this way: after an entire pound of ravioli, I'm not likely to get into any kind of trouble.” She laced her arms around his neck. “I love you, Hatch—wing tips, boring tie, and all.”
    His smile was slow and sexy. “Is that right?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Must be because I'm so damn good in bed.”
    “Must be.”
    “Just as well. Because I love you too, even if you can't hold a job.” He kissed her nose and then he kissed her mouth, hard.
    And then he was gone.
    It was much later that day, right after she'd eaten the pound of ravioli for dinner, in fact, that Jessie started to feel restless and uneasy. The sense of wrongness was so acute she could hardly stand it. She glanced at the clock. Hatch was not due home for another three hours.
    “I wish you were here, Hatch.”
    Jessie tried to read, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted Hatch to be home.

    The phone rang shortly after eight. Jessie pounced on it, although she could not have said why.
    “Hello?”
    “Jessie, dear, is that you?”
    Jessie exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh, hello, Mrs. V. Yes, it's me. How are you?”
    “Fine, dear. I was just sitting here watching television and I had a sudden urge to call and see if you were…well, all right.”
    “I'm just fine, Mrs. V.”
    “Good. I'm afraid I just had one of my little spells of uneasiness and it seemed to have something to do with you. Dear me, I do hope that blow on the head hasn't made my inner vision unreliable.”
    “I appreciate your concern, Mrs. V. Is, uh, everything going all right at the office?”
    “I've had to close it until things die down. I plan to reopen in a few weeks when everyone's forgotten the Attwood case. Do you know, though, I'm going to miss you. Have you found a new job?”
    “Not yet, Mrs. V. But I'm sure something will turn up. It always does.”
    The phone rang again at nine o'clock, just as the long, slow twilight of late spring was fading into night. Jessie grabbed the instrument a second time.
    The voice was that of a woman and it sounded disturbingly familiar. But it was impossible to identify because she was apparently speaking through a cloth. The message was short and to the point.
    “If you ever want to see your precious Elizabeth alive again, you will come to the new Benedict warehouse now. If you tell anyone or bring anyone with you, the child dies. You have thirty minutes.”
    Nausea welled up out of nowhere. Jessie's knees went out from under her and she nearly collapsed on the sofa. Frantically she tried to remember Elizabeth's schedule for Monday evenings. Was there a soccer game tonight? She could not recall. Blindly she dialed Connie's number. There was no answer. She tried the office of ExCellent Designs. Again no answer. Then she glanced at the clock.
    Twenty-eight minutes left of the thirty she had been given. There was no time to see if Elizabeth was safe, no time to determine if the call was a cruel hoax. No time to do anything but get to the new warehouse in the south end of town.
    Jessie grabbed her car keys and rushed to the door.
    She nearly fell down the stairs in her haste to reach the car. Outside on the street she fumbled desperately with the keys. She had just gotten the door open when she felt herself pinned by a pair of blinding headlights.
    Memories of nearly being run down a few days earlier brought another wave of panic to Jessie's throat. But even as she turned to run she realized the car was pulling in to the curb behind her Toyota, and then she saw that it was Hatch's Mercedes. Jessie ran toward it.
    “ Hatch . She's got Elizabeth. I have thirty minutes to get there. No, about twenty-five now. Oh, God.”
    Hatch was out of the car, moving swiftly toward her. “Who's got her? What are you talking about?”
    “I don't know,” Jessie sobbed. “A woman, I think. Maybe someone I know. But her voice was disguised. She just called. She's taken Elizabeth to the new Benedict warehouse. Told me if I didn't come alone, she'd kill