“For sure. This week.”
She got out of the warm bed, wrapped her robe around herself and slid her cold toes into her slippers. She left the bedroom, went downstairs into the kitchen and opened the door.
Newton trotted over the threshold and paused, radiating a hopeful air.
“All right,” Abby said. “You’re a hero. I guess you deserve a snack.”
She opened the bag of doggy treats, took out a goodie and tossed it to Newton. He seized it out of midair and crunched with enthusiasm.
When he was finished, they both went back upstairs. Abby heard the chimes of her phone just as she arrived in the bedroom doorway.
“What in the world?” she said.
Sam levered himself up on one elbow. “Your phone.”
“Yes, I figured that much out all by myself.”
She grabbed the phone off the bedside table and looked at the glowing screen.
“I don’t believe it,” she said. “It’s Diana.”
“At this hour?” Sam grumbled. “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
Abby took the call.
“If this is about Dawson and that book he wanted me to find for his client…” she began.
“Abby, shut up and listen to me.” Diana’s voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. “Dawson has been kidnapped.”
“What?” Abby’s stomach clenched. “Please tell me this is some kind of really sick joke.”
“I just got a call demanding a ransom.”
“Let me guess. The lab book?”
“He’s going to murder Dawson if you don’t give him that damned book. Dawson’s life is in your hands.”
“You said we needed a plan,” Abby said. “I just gave you one.”
“It’s a lousy plan,” Sam said.
“Got a better one?”
“No. And yours just might work if we tweak it a bit.”
46
DAWSON WAS SLUMPED IN A CHAIR IN THE YACHT’S MAINcabin. His wrists were fastened behind him. His legs were bound to the legs of the chair. He looked up when Abby walked on board. Disbelief flashed across his face.
“What the hell are you doing here, Abby?” he said. “I told him that you wouldn’t come.”
The good-looking, sandy-haired man with the gun chuckled. “But I was sure she would. She’s your sister, after all.”
“Stepsister,” Dawson said dully. “I explained that she’s not a blood relative. She doesn’t even like me.”
“But you’re all part of Dr. Radwell’s modern blended family, his family by choice. I admit I don’t get the family-loyalty thing, but it can certainly prove useful.”
Abby stopped just inside the cabin, the package containing the lab book in her hands. She looked at the man with the gun. He was polished and well groomed, the kind of a man who was at ease withmoney and the sort of people who possessed a lot of it. His open, classically handsome features invited trust. He was dressed from head to toe in iconic yachting attire, a dark blue polo shirt, well-cut white trousers and deck shoes. The ring on his hand was set with a large diamond. The watch was gold, the kind of timepiece that, according to the ads, was meant to be handed down to the next generation. The ads did not usually mention that in a pinch the watch could be pawned to buy a ticket to a no–name island if the Feds came to the door.
