Lisa Gardner: Alone

That was it. Mr. Bosu was officially pissed off. He didn't even care about the money anymore. Now, it was the principle of the thing.

Nobody crossed Mr. Bosu. Nobody.

Mr. Bosu returned to Robinson's car. The boy sat in the passenger seat, tickling Trickster's ears.

"Say, does your grandfather have a second home?" Mr. Bosu asked casually.

The boy shrugged, played with the dog.

"Anyplace he likes to go in particular? You know, his own special place?" Another shrug.

Mr. Bosu grew impatient.

"Nathan," he said sternly, "I'm supposed to be returning you to your grandfather. Don't you want to see your grandfather?"

"Okay."

"Then where the hell is he?"

The boy looked up at him. He said promptly, "At the Hotel LeRoux."

Mr. Bosu smiled. He put the car in gear.

"Nathan," he said seriously, "when the time comes, I'll make sure you never feel a thing.

don't understand," Catherine was saying.

"You think my father-in-law hired Umbrio?"

"He used a middleman, Colleen Robinson, to make the arrangements. Umbrio got paroled in return for agreeing to perform a few favors."

"So why am I still alive?"

"Because killing you isn't as important as discrediting you."

"Come again?" She blinked her eyes.

"The fudge hates you. Hates you for Jimmy, hates you for marrying into the family. But mostly, I think, he hates you for Nathan. As long as you continue to press about Nathan's health, you're on the verge of uncovering his and Maryanne's secret."

"If I died, I wouldn't be a threat anymore."

"No. But Dr. Rocco would be. And maybe your father would be. There would always be those who'd observe Nathan's poor health and wonder. Unless, of course, they already had a reasonable explanation for why Nathan was sick."

"I was poisoning him," she filled in.

"I was a bad mom."

"Exactly." "But once he won custody of Nathan…" She frowned.

"Wouldn't the fact that Nathan didn't magically get better become a problem?"

"I don't think the judge planned on letting that become a problem," Bobby said quietly.

"You think he would really harm his own grandson?"

"I think," Bobby answered grimly, "the man may have already killed his own son."

It turned out a luxury hotel made a pretty good fortress. Sure, Mr. Bosu valet-parked his car. Sure, he strolled right in with Nathan, and even Trickster, because who was going to say no to a cute boy and his puppy?

That didn't solve his problem. He didn't know what room the judge was in, and the pretty young desk attendant was polite, but firm about the hotel's policy of not giving out such information. She could call Judge Gagnon for him, she could notify Judge Gagnon that he had guests, but without the judge's permission, she could not let the guests go to the judge.

Mr. Bosu had already determined another problem. According to the boy, the judge had described a luxury suite in the hotel. That meant the upper floors, which required a special keycard inserted into the elevator. Assuming the judge was staying in a penthouse suite, Mr. Bosu would not be getting up there any time soon.

It was perplexing. A dilemma, and Mr. Bosu was getting very tired now. He suddenly missed his nice clean bed at the Hampton Inn. Hell, he even missed his prison cot.

He and the boy walked outside, where Mr. Bosu had another Red Bull and contemplated things. The bloodstain on his shirt bothered him; the suspicious stare of the twerpy doorman bothered him. The whole fucking world bothered him.

Then Mr. Bosu had an idea.

He downed his Red Bull. He walked Nathan back into the hotel lobby and took him straight to the receptionist's desk.

"This is Nathan Gagnon, grandson of Judge Gagnon," he announced in his most cordial voice.

"If you call up, you'll find the judge is expecting him. Unfortunately, I've received a bad cut-" Mr. Bosu flashed his bloody arm, "and I need to seek medical attention.

Do you have someone who could escort Nathan upstairs to his grandparents? They'd greatly appreciate the boy not being left alone." The receptionist smiled at him.

"Of course. One minute, sir." She dialed the room. Mr. Bosu held his breath. Surely the good judge couldn't refuse his grandson, particularly if the boy was coming up alone.

"Mrs. Gagnon?" the receptionist said brightly. Mr. Bosu exhaled. The wife. Perfect.

"Yes, we have a fine young man here, Nathan Gagnon-Yes, your grandson. What a handsome boy, too. We'll send him right up with a bellhop. Do you know Nathan has a puppy? Not a problem, ma'am, but we do have a form we'll need filled out. Excellent. I'll send that up, as well. Thank you."

The receptionist put down the phone, the perky smile still on her face.

"Mrs. Gagnon is very excited to see her grandson. If you'd like to depart, sir, we can take it from here."

Mr. Bosu graciously thanked the woman. He even shook Nathan's hand.

"So happy I could get you to your grandparents, young man. The puppy's name is Trickster. Your mom wanted you to have him as a surprise."

"Mommy?" the boy asked hopefully.

"Trust me, you'll be with her soon enough." This pacified the kid, and he nodded his head vigorously while clutching Trickster against his chest. Then the bellhop came over, admiring the fine boy, admiring the fine dog, and all was well.

They headed for the elevator.

"The penthouse suite," the bellhop was telling Nathan.

"That sucker's bigger than my house. You're gonna love it up there."

The elevator doors opened. Mr. Bosu turned. The receptionist was attending someone else, the bellhop was busy with Nathan… Mr. Bosu bolted for the stairs. He sprinted up three levels, Bam, bam, bam, taking the stairs two at a time. Then he burst onto the third floor-blissfully empty-where he pounded the elevator button. The elevator came to an immediate halt.

The doors opened. The bellhop appeared surprised to see Mr. Bosu standing right there.

"Weren't you in the lobby-" Mr. Bosu seized the young man by the shirt and jerked him into the hall. One quick snap and the man crumpled to the floor. Mr. Bosu grabbed the man's jacket, snatched the man's master key-a card hanging from a chain around his neck-and stepped back inside the elevator.

Nathan was staring at him. The boy's eyes were solemn and wide.

"My mommy warned me about men like you," the boy said.

Mr. Bosu grinned his full, awful grin.

"Yeah, I bet she did."

Entering the hotel LeRoux, Bobby watched for security guards while Catherine did the talking.

"James and Maryanne Gagnon," she told the receptionist.

"They're expecting you?"

"Tell them it's about their grandson."

"Nathan?" the receptionist asked brightly.

Catherine became hyperaware. So did Bobby.

"You've seen Nathan?" Catherine asked sharply.

"Why, yes. Just ten minutes ago. One of our bellhops escorted him upstairs."

"Was he with a man?" Bobby broke in.

"Big, maybe looked like he'd been in a fight?"

"Yes, he mentioned he'd been hurt-" They didn't wait to hear the rest.

"That man is a convicted pedophile," Catherine screamed.

"He kidnapped my son earlier today. Call the police and get us upstairs."

The receptionist was flustered. She wanted to call for security. She wanted to dial the room. She needed permission, she needed help. She clearly didn't know what to do.

Bobby was already in front of the elevators, stabbing at the buttons, pacing wildly.

"Fine, call the room!" Catherine pleaded.

"Dial the room number now. Get them on the phone, please, go ahead."

The overwhelmed receptionist picked up the phone. She punched in a four-digit number. Catherine blatantly memorized it-Thirty seconds later, however, the receptionist was more confused than ever.

"No one's answering. I don't understand. Why, just a few minutes ago-" A sudden, sharp scream. The elevator doors opened. A well-dressed man and woman came stumbling out.