Page 22 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

“ADMIT IT, MOM. You ditched me to catch an Uber home earlier because you’re on that big kidnapping case, the billionaire dude and pretty much his whole family.”

“What I am on, ” Nicky said carefully, “is speakerphone. Because I’m in the car with Chief Hardy.”

“Oh, sorry,” Kaitlin said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Hey, Mike.”

“What’s going on, Special K?”

“And you know that I don’t discuss active investigations over the phone,” Nicky continued, “ especially with my teenage daughter.”

“But I’ll tell you everything,” Mike said. “Every last salacious detail. Names, dates, locations, you got it. Whaddya want to know?”

“Spill the tea, Mike!” Kaitlin said.

“Hardy,” Nicky warned.

“Oops!” Mike said. “Your mom outranks me on this one. Sorry, K.”

Nicky rolled her eyes but secretly loved how well her daughter and Mike got along.

She’d been unsure how her daughter would feel when her “friend” from the LAPD came over for dinner that first time six months ago.

Kaitlin’s father had been a cop too, an incredibly gifted detective with the Robbery-Homicide Division, and Nicky had fallen for his big investigative brain.

But eight years ago, the same brain caught a random shot from a fleeing bank robber, and her husband died before EMTs could arrive on the scene.

Kaitlin had been six. She said she remembered him, but dimly, like pieces of a dream. Kaitlin also swore she’d marry the opposite of a cop someday. “You mean a criminal?” Nicky had joked. “No,” Kaitlin responded. “Someone who doesn’t have to carry a gun to work.”

“You doing okay, kiddo?” Mike asked now.

“Well, I was just about to shoot up some heroin with a needle I found in the alley out back, but don’t worry, I ran the tip under really hot water.”

“The kid’s got street smarts,” Mike said to Nicky. “You have to admire that.”

“Then I thought I’d send some nudes to random middle-aged men on the internet.”

“Be sure to eat some dinner while you do all that,” Nicky said. “There’s roasted chicken, couscous, and some salad makings in the fridge.”

“Mike, don’t listen to her,” Kaitlin said. “She’s trying to make you think she’s all domestic. The fridge has nothing in it but a bottle of vodka, some ketchup packets, and a wilted stalk of celery.”

“The makings of a Bloody Mary? That’s it, I’m putting her up for Mother of the Year.”

The banter between Kaitlin and Mike usually amused Nicky, but occasionally it drove her up the wall. Especially when neither of them seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Or maybe they completely understood, and this was their way of dealing with the stress.

“Meanwhile,” Nicky said, “here in the real world, I’m going to be back late tonight.”

“Because you’re working that huge kidnapping case involving the billionaire and his family. Got it.”

Mike said, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about it, K.”

“No, he won’t.”

“If Mike wants to crash here later, it’s cool,” Kaitlin said. “I know it’s a long drive back to Pasadena.”

“I appreciate that, K.”

Nicky wrapped up the call: “Okay. Dinner. Homework. Only a little heroin. It’s a school night, after all.”

“And save those Bloody Mary ingredients for me, K. I have a feeling I’m going to need one in the morning.”

“Love you,” Nicky said.

“Love you more,” Kaitlin replied, then quickly disconnected. She also loved having the last word.

Nicky guided her car along the curves of Sunset Boulevard. When traffic slowed, as it always did, she put on her lights and drove in the turning lane until it was time to take a left up into the hills of Bel Air.

“Have you ever met Schraeder?” Nicky asked.

“Nope. I’ve only seen him on TV,” Mike replied.

“I don’t watch much cable news. What’s he like?”

“He’s paranoid about his privacy, but he also really likes being on TV—go figure. He’ll patch in from some undisclosed location and try to scare the American public into hoarding supplies and buying crypto and never trusting the government.”

“And by the government, he means…”

Mike Hardy smirked. “Oh, yeah. He freakin’ can’t stand the FBI.”

“Good to know.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he thinks most politicians are bottom-feeders and parasites.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, because that means you and I report to those bottom-feeders and parasites.”

Mike squeezed his eyes shut, nodded, and smiled in that way he had that put her completely at ease, like he was saying, We both know this is ridiculous, but this is the hand we’ve been dealt, so let’s have fun. Nicky appreciated it.

“Just keep in mind,” he said, “that we’re not dealing with a rational human being here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy lives in a ten-billion-dollar bubble,” Mike said.

“Even worse, he’s a self-made billionaire, a man who started out with nothing in a small town in Nebraska.

Which means he believes his decision-making skills are right up there with Warren Buffett’s and Jesus’s.

To him, there isn’t an obstacle in the world that money can’t overcome. ”

“Except maybe this one,” she said.

“So how do you want to play this? I’ve got some ideas if you’re interested.”

“Clearly you have more experience with ornery billionaires than I do.”

“It’s not the money thing. It’s the politics. Like I said, the old boy doesn’t mind local cops too much, but he hates the feds. And he’s probably not too fond of lady cops. No offense.”

“Offense? Please. It’s a badge of honor.”

“So let me glad-hand him while you twist the screws.”

“Boy hero and castrating bitch. Got it.”

“Boy?” Mike asked with a smile. “You think I look young enough to be called a boy?”

“Nah. I was just being a castrating bitch.”