Sam opened the Mazda’s door for her. “Just a little good-natured kidding.”
She waited until he slid behind the wheel to confront him. “Good-natured kidding, my foot. Neither one of you was kidding. Is that man an authorized repairman, or is he a crook?”
“Don’t worry. He’ll fix your car,” Sam said, patting her knee.
She batted his hand away. “Is he a crook?”
Sam started the car, pulled away from the curb, then shot her a look. He had the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t settle for anything but the truth, so that was what he gave her.
She was livid. “The Cat? You had me leave my car withthe Cat?Howcouldyou?” she cried, grabbing for the wheel. “Sam Craig, howcouldyou? Turn around. We’re going back.”
He held the wheel steady despite her efforts to turn it. “I wasn’t lying to you, Susan. He happens to be the best one to fix your car.”
“I’m not totally ignorant.” She gave another tug. “I’ve read about him. I’ve even heard Savvy talk about the Cat, but the name Stavanovich never registered. How could you do this to me, Sam?”
“He’ll fix your car,” Sam insisted.
“But he knows me now,” she wailed. “You gave him my name and my address. Who do you think’s going to be next on his hit list?”
“Not you, and that’s a promise. You’re safer now than you were before. He never preys on customers.”
Susan was only mildly mollified, though she did sit back in her seat. “There’s more than one way to prey.” She screwed up her face. “What a smarmy little man. He’s the kind to turn vicious in bed.”
“You’ve had experience with kinds like that?”
“Once,” she said with distaste. “That was enough.”
Satisfied that her distaste was genuine, Sam glanced her way again. “You don’t have to worry about Matty. He’s pretty careful with women. They’d be too apt to scream and yell if something went wrong.”
“Unless he threatened them into silence.”
“A little guy like Matty?”
“He wouldn’t have to use physical force. Doing the kind of work he does for the kind of clients he does, he probably picks up all the latest gossip. Do you think he’d be adverse to blackmail?”
“I doubt he’d try it. It’s not his style. I’m telling you, Susan, he’s got a good thing going as the Cat. He’s probably got several million stashed in numbered bank accounts. His strength is his cleverness. One of the reasons he’s been so successful is that he works alone. He’s not about to go stupid on us at this late date and start playing rough with women. You’re safe. Trust me.”
He reached over to chuck her chin and left his hand to slide down her neck and under the lapels of her blouse.
“I should trust you?” Susan asked, but her voice had lost its edge. No doubt it had something to do with the long, blunt-tipped fingers that had stolen into her bra.
“About as far as you can throw me. Where do you want to go?”
They’d talked of picking up a VCR for Sam’s place, but Sam had to go to work later that day, and Susan wasn’t in the mood for shopping.
“My place?” she asked, catching her breath. Sam’s finger was brushing her nipple, setting the rest of her on fire.
“You got it,” he said and stepped on the gas.
***
“We have to get moving,” Savannah worriedly told the small group gathered in the conference room at five that afternoon. “Time is passing. We’re getting flack from the press. I’m getting flack from upstairs. Megan is having trouble getting on with her life. And whoever kidnapped her is having a good laugh.” With a quick breath, she turned to Mark Morgan, the FBI agent on the case. “Anything new, Mark?”
“Not much. Nothing’s turned up at points of departure, but we don’t know what we’re looking for. We’ve sent alerts throughout the country for unlikely-looking persons spending money freely, but that could as easily net half the population of Las Vegas as our men. We’re going through files of kidnappings and attempted kidnappings in other states, but kidnappers don’t usually do it twice. We’re also working through lists of recent escapees from either federal or state penitentiaries. Theoretically, an escapee would be able to put three million to good use. But the kidnapping was carefully planned, so whoever it was would have had to have been around this area for a while beforehand. We’re canvasing the area with mug shots. Someone may recognize a face.”
Savannah turned her questioning eyes to Peter Sprange, who was with the state police.
“I don’t have much more. The hospital tests tell us that we have two men, blood types A positive and O positive. Both have dark hair. That’s about it. Mrs. Vandermeer hasn’t been able to give us anything. We’ve checked out every recent parolee in the state, but aside from three, they’re all accounted for. We’re working on those three, but two have different blood types and the third is an unlikely candidate.”
