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“Dad!”
“I told you,” the old woman said in a calm, almost soothing voice. “He can’t hear you.”
Myron’s father crumpled to the floor, his hands covering his face. Blood seeped through his fingers. Myron looked across at the old woman. She just smiled.
“I asked you, didn’t I? I asked you nicely.”
Myron almost jumped across the desk—almost throttled her right then and there. Forget that she was an old woman. Damn the consequences.
But she just gave him a simple shake of her head.
“That would be Daddy’s death warrant.”
On the screen, Myron heard his father moan.
“Tell us where Bo Storm is,” the old woman said.
“He’s in Montana.”
Myron could hear the panic in his own voice.
“That much we know already. Where in Montana? Be very specific.”
Through the phone, Myron’s father stubbornly shouted, “You bastard! You broke my nose!”
Ellen met Myron’s eyes. Myron tried to regain some kind of leverage here or at least slow things down a beat, give everyone a chance to breathe. “Let’s just talk about this a second.”
Ellen sighed and leaned forward closer to the phone’s speaker. “Allen?”
“Yes, Ellen.”
“Shoot him in the head and wait for the mother to come home.”
“No!” Myron shouted.
“Just do it, Allen.”
Then Allen Castner said, “Ellen, turn off the video.”
The old woman hesitated a moment before pulling her hand back across the desk, taking the phone off speaker mode, removing one earring, and putting the phone up to that ear so Myron couldn’t hear. She listened a moment, nodded, and said, “Understood.”
Then she disconnected the call.
“What happened?” Myron asked.
He could still hear the panic in his own voice.
“We sit and wait.”
“For?”
“It won’t take long.”
The hell with that. Myron took out his own phone.
“Put it down,” she said. “If you contact anyone…” The old woman shook her head. “Do I really have to make the threat? I thought you’d be smarter than that.”
Myron’s leg started shaking. “I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but if anything happens to my father—”
