The conversation was somber, but not morose. They kept to the facts and went over the plan. Everyone was confident they had it mapped out correctly. Camille thought she was going to jump out of her skin, but she kept it together. As did the two men. No one wanted to show any sign of fear or angst—even though they were all feeling both inside.

  Camille was the first to get up and start to clear the table. “I’m not rushing you boys, but I want this day to go by as quickly as possible.”

  Larry smiled. “As do we all.”

  Camille fixed a container for George and handed it to Larry while Chad gathered the duffel bags and set them in the front entry.

  “I’ll bring the first bag out and give this to George.” Larry grabbed one of the bags. “Man, these are heavy.”

  “I know.” Chad grimaced. “Guess we’re not the agile athletes we used to be, eh?”

  “You were the athlete. I was the nerd.” Larry slung the strap over his shoulder. “Be right back.” Once outside, Larry popped the back door of the Range Rover sitting just past the wrought-iron gate. George was parked directly behind it. He nodded to Larry.

  Chad followed with two bags. “Show-off,” Larry kidded his friend.

  “There’s one more.” Chad looked over his shoulder at Camille, who stood in the doorway. He handed the bags to Larry and went back to the house for the last bag of loot. He held Camille close. “I’ll be back in a few hours with our son.” They clung to each other for about a minute before Larry cleared his throat, indicating they needed to hit the road. He gave Camille a wave and a thumbs-up.

  Even though they were almost certain no one was watching or following them, they had agreed that Larry should take a different route to Colts Neck than Chad, then proceed to Due Process Stable Golf Course. He had friends who were members, so it wasn’t unusual for Larry to be around the premises.

  Chad started the Range Rover and decided to take Lexington Avenue instead of the FDR Drive. Traffic was the usual state of chaos, with taxis, buses and pedestrians all racing to get to where they needed to go. Chad kept his cool, as difficult as it was. But he felt strangely confident things would turn out all right. Maybe he was in denial of what could go wrong, but he reminded himself of a book by John-Roger and Peter McWilliams called You Can’t Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought. Negative thinking could be debilitating, and he had to be in his best form in this moment.

  The route through the city, the Lincoln Tunnel, then on to the NJ Turnpike had its usual stops and starts, but once Chad got on the Garden State Parkway, it was a breeze to exit 116 in Holmdel. From there, the country roads had few vehicles. He slowed when he saw the Sunoco station, then continued for another two miles and spotted Concord on the left. There was a grove of trees and then a very large field that seemed to stretch for acres. He slowed again, squinting to spot the shack. He almost passed it because it was quite a distance from the road, just as Larry had described. He checked his watch. It was ten forty-five. He didn’t want to wait in that particular spot, so he drove a little farther down the road to see how far Delicious Orchards would be. It wasn’t far. Maybe a little over a mile. He realized the kidnappers were sending him in opposite directions. First it was south, then wait, and then north.

  Chad had over an hour to contemplate who these people might be. Clever, for sure. Then it occurred to him—would this be the last he heard from them? Would they come back for more money? No. It wasn’t blackmail. Just a kidnapping. He snickered at the thought. Just a kidnapping. He resisted the temptation of going inside the orchard’s shop to get a cup of coffee. There was no way he was leaving a million dollars alone in the vehicle. He was getting antsy. It was the longest hour of his life. Finally, around eleven forty, he decided to head back to the drop point. He figured it would take him almost fifteen minutes to make two trips back and forth to the car. He hoped a police officer wouldn’t stop and check why a Range Rover was stopped on the side of the road. One more thing to make him anxious. Great.

  He drove north and made a U-turn just past Concord, then doubled back to the spot closest to the shack. He pulled as far off to the side as he could onto a patch of gravel and weeds. He looked both ways before he got out of the vehicle. There was still very little traffic in either direction. He went to the rear passenger seat and pulled out two of the bags. He thought he could carry two at a time, but after about an acre’s worth of walking he broke out in a sweat. He looked around. Not a person or cow in sight. He decided to leave the two bags in the field and go retrieve the other two. It would be easier to do it in stages, and that way he would be able to see if anyone was on the move. It would also alleviate the worry of leaving half the money unguarded in the car. He jogged back to the vehicle and pulled out the rest of the stash. Yes, this was a much better plan.

  He continued to the shack with the first two bags. The place was deserted. It was a ramshackle structure about eight-by-ten feet, with a very old door barely hanging on its hinges. He wondered about the soundness of this location. But it wasn’t his idea; he was just following directions. He placed the first two bags on the floor, which was covered in inches of dust. It didn’t appear anyone had been here for a long time. There was no sign of his son or anything that belonged to anyone. No scraps of clothing, food wrappers, empty bottles or cans. It was completely deserted save for the dirt.

  He quickly hustled to the area where he’d left the other two bundles, heaved them up and waddled back to the shed. His legs were going numb, as were his arms and shoulders. He dropped the rest of the load, shut the door and began to walk back to his car. No wonder they had picked this spot. If anyone was watching, they would spy the police in a heartbeat. How they would retrieve the money was another story. Not being a terribly religious man, Chad stopped for a moment and prayed that in the next hour and ten minutes his son would be safely returned to him.

  Chad drove back to Delicious Orchards, as instructed. This time he went inside and bought a coffee and a piece of crumb cake. Not that he had an appetite, but he figured it would use up some of the time. He couldn’t decide if the previous hour had been the longest in his life but decided it was at the top of his list. He browsed the store, trying to knock away the minutes. A cherry pie caught his eye. That would make a nice dessert for the homecoming dinner. Chad was feeling more positive. He went outside and ate the cake and drank the coffee at a picnic table. It was a lovely spot. He understood why Camille loved the countryside. Then he felt a pang of guilt. They had been married for over twenty years and they still did not have a country home. He then reminded himself that Harrison’s place in Newport was always available to them. But it was a bit of a haul. Over three hours on a very busy, unsightly highway. The drive was never pleasant, as opposed to the one-hour drive to Westport, where Camille had spent her high school summers. Maybe that was what they needed in their life. A place of peace and quiet. That was a conversation for another day. He checked his watch again. Fifteen more minutes. He thought about calling Larry but decided against it. Follow the instructions. Do not deviate. No one intervening.

  He walked slowly back to the vehicle, started the engine and waited a few more minutes. He wanted to be exactly on time. It was one on the dot as he pulled into the gas station. He looked around. No J.R. He almost started to panic when he saw a disheveled, dirty kid a few hundred yards away staggering down the road. The kid almost looked as if he was drunk. Maybe drugged. Chad jumped out of the car and ran toward him. “J.R.!” He grabbed the waiflike creature and hugged him.

  J.R. finally spoke. “Dad.” He collapsed into his father’s arms.

  A gas station attendant witnessed the encounter and ran toward them. “Is everything okay?”

  “You got some water?” Chad helped J.R. to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door, and J.R. climbed in and sat sideways with his legs dangling over the edge of the seat. The attendant dashed back with a bottle of cold water, opened it and handed it to J.R., who proceeded to pour some of it over his head, then guzzle the rest.

  Chad got to eye level with his son. “Are you all right?”

  J.R. squinted up and replied with a whisper. “Yeah, Dad. I’m okay.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of them and the gas station attendant. The attendant had no idea what was going on, and Chad didn’t want to let on that his son was just returned from a heart-wrenching kidnapping. Chad turned to the man in the overalls. “Thanks very much.” He reached into his pocket to pay for the water and give the man a tip, but the attendant refused. Chad helped J.R. get situated and then buckled his seat belt for him. He pulled out his BlackBerry and dialed Camille.

  “He’s safe,” Chad said as the tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Oh, thank God.” Camille began to cry. But it was a good cry. “Let me speak to him, please?”

  Chad handed the phone to his son.

  “Mom?”

  “Sweetie. Are you all right?” Camille was excited and relieved. Her voice sounded like it was an octave higher than usual.

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m okay.”

  “I am so happy to hear you’re all right. I can’t wait for you to get home,” Camille sniffled.

  “Me too,” J.R. said hoarsely. “Here’s Dad.” He handed the phone back to Chad.

  Chad took a huge breath. “We should be home within the next two hours.”

  “I’ll call Russell Wainwright and ask him if he can come over to check him out.”

  “I’m going to meet up with Larry and switch cars. Be careful,” Chad said before Camille gave her usual send-off.

  “Larry?” J.R. asked in a very odd tone.

  “This is his car. He drove mine to Due Process. We’ll switch and head home.”

  J.R. looked uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than he had just a few minutes before. “Why did you switch cars?”

  “Because I wanted an all-terrain vehicle. When they said a shack in a field, I didn’t know what I would be driving on. Larry offered to meet up with us at Due Process.”

  J.R. had no response to that.

  “You okay?” Chad glanced at his son.

  “Yes, but they said not to tell anybody.”

  “They said not to tell the police. And we didn’t.”

  “But why did you call Larry?”

  Chad thought his son’s reaction was a bit odd. “Listen, we needed help. He was the only person I could trust.”

  “But what if they find out?” J.R. looked disturbed.

  “Who?”

  “The police?” J.R. asked.

  “I don’t know how or why they should. And you shouldn’t be thinking about anything except getting a good dinner, a hot shower and a comfortable bed. You can tell us about all of this whenever you are ready. Okay?”

  “Sure.” J.R. stared blankly at the passing trees.

  Chad knew his son was terribly traumatized, so he kept the conversation to a bare minimum. It only took a few minutes to arrive at Due Process. Larry was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against Chad’s BMW. He was beaming as they approached him. “J.R.! Good to see you!”

  J.R. shrugged. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Larry gave Chad a sideways look. Maybe it was the ordeal, but J.R. didn’t seem very happy to be safe and in the company of people who cared about him. But then again, no one knew exactly what he had been through. Only time would tell, and only if and when he was ready to reveal the details.

  Chad and Larry gave each other a bear hug. Larry was more reticent with J.R. He extended his hand instead. They shook, but to Larry it felt as if he had a dead fish in his hand instead of the grip of a fit eighteen-year-old. He comforted himself knowing he’d helped his best friend get his son back. Whatever happened next was out of his control.

  Chad and J.R. got into the BMW and Larry into his Range Rover. They waved each other off and headed in different directions.

  * * *

  Dr. Russell Wainwright had been the Pierce family physician for twenty years. They were also social friends and on a first-name basis. He was always willing to make a house call for Camille, Chad or J.R. Camille wasn’t very forthcoming with information but told him J.R. had gone camping, gotten lost and was suffering from exhaustion. She then phoned Chad to tell him to tell J.R. that was the story they were relating to anyone who asked.

  Chad relayed the information to J.R., who didn’t take it very well.

  “Dr. Wainwright? Why?” He was almost sneering.

  “To make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” J.R. would have been on the verge of curling into a ball had it not been for the seat belt.

  “Son, is there something you’re not telling me?” Chad glanced over.

  “No. I’m fine.” He sounded like a spoiled brat.

  Once again, Chad chalked it up to distress. Maybe Russell could prescribe something for him. Something to help move him past this very dark place.

  The silence in the car was deafening. Chad could not understand why his son was so quiet. One would think he would want to spill his guts about the entire situation. But no. Not yet. Chad glanced at J.R. again. “Music?”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  Chad pressed the button on the radio and kept changing the stations until he found some cool jazz. Maybe that would put a bit of calm in the atmosphere.

  They drove in silence for over an hour until they were on the viaduct to the Lincoln Tunnel. J.R. finally spoke up. “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate what you did.”

  Chad let out a huge sigh of relief. He felt as if had been holding his breath since they’d gotten in the car. “Anything for you, son.”

  The outbound tunnel was backed up. Chad thought they would never get to East 36th Street. “Would you call your mother and tell her we’re running a bit late? Maybe another fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  J.R. took the phone from the console and hit the button that said Home. Camille answered after the first ring. “Hey, Mom, we’re running late. Traffic. Dad says another fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Anything in particular you want for dinner?”

  “Nah. Whatever,” J.R. said blankly.

  “Okay. See you soon.” Camille gave the phone in her hand a strange look. What could have possibly happened to her son over the past few days? She felt a shiver up her spine. Chad hadn’t mentioned any physical injuries or marks. Camille realized J.R.’s behavior had to be caused by serious emotional distress. They would handle it. They would do everything possible to bring J.R. back to his old carefree, determined self. After all, he possessed a lot of his father’s charm. Camille was hopeful it wouldn’t take long for J.R. to put all the pieces back together.

  A half hour later, Camille heard the buzzer from the gate. She opened the front door with a flourish. She felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted. Standing outside was Russell. “Thank you so much for coming.” She gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Of course. Besides, I only live a few blocks away, although I’m thinking of retiring and moving someplace with less concrete and more lakes.”

  “Fishing, is it?” Camille knew the doctor was fond of fly-fishing.

  “Yes. And I feel as if I’m not getting enough of it.”

  “I understand. Even after all these years, I still miss the farm in Connecticut.” She showed him into Chad’s study. “Can I fix you a drink?”

  He checked his watch. It wasn’t quite cocktail hour yet and he still had a patient to examine. “Sparkling water?”

  “With lemon?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Camille excused herself and headed to the kitchen, then returned with a bottle of Perrier and some lemon wedges. She set down the tray on the coffee table.

  Dr. Russell Wainwright settled into one of the club chairs. “Tell me, what is this all about? I thought J.R. was in school in Massachusetts.”

  “Yes, he was, but he decided to go camping and got separated from his friends. He was lost in the woods for two days.”

  “No BlackBerry? Cell phone?”

  “They aren’t allowed at the school. Besides, there’s no reason in this day and age that kids should have them.” Camille wasn’t sure if she was proud of how easily she was able to come up with these lies.

  “I don’t disagree, but it’s not going to be too long before everyone has them.”

  “What a dreadful thought,” Camille said.

  “Technology is running full speed ahead in every industry. That’s another reason I’m thinking of retiring. Specialized medicine is becoming more popular, and if I want to keep up, I’ll have to invest in a new EKG machine and an entirely new computer system.”

  “I know what you mean about computer systems. It’s been the bane of Chad’s existence since 2000 and the Y2K debacle.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Camille ran toward it, leaving the doctor behind. She wrapped her arms around her son. He stiffened in her embrace. “What is it?” Camille took a step back.

  “Nothing, Mom. Sorry.” He moved closer and gave her a hug.

  “Let me look at you.”

  She began to tousle his hair, which brought on a loud, “Stop! Please! I’m okay. I’m just tired and hungry.”

  “Didn’t they feed you?” Camille was horrified at the thought.

  “Yeah, Burger King.”

  “Did you decide what you want for dinner tonight?”

  “Anything that doesn’t come in a box and a paper wrapper.”

  “Ha!” Camille laughed out loud. J.R. was beginning to sound like himself. “Pasta? I’ll order something from San Pietro. I promise it won’t come in a box.”

  “And some burrata, too,” J.R. added.

  Camille and Chad were relieved their son was beginning to resurface. “I’ll ask Gerardo to have the chef make a special antipasto. In the mood for ravioli?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Chad chimed in.