The Kept Woman (Will Trent, #8)

Will studied the map on the wall inside the security offices at Phipps Plaza. There were a thousand ways the hand-off between Reuben Figaroa and Virginia Souza could spin out of control. Deshawn Watkins, the chief of security, outlined a few of them for Amanda.

‘There are four possible points of approach directly into level three.’ Deshawn pointed out three different escalators and the elevator that serviced all three levels inside the main atrium. ‘Then there’s another set of escalators if you go through the Belk department store. One up, one down. Then there’s this elevator here inside Belk, and another elevator here at the street entrance. None of the main elevators go to the parking garage except this one here and here.’

Amanda said, ‘So we’re effectively inside a sieve.’ She looked at her watch. They were assuming that the meet would take place on the hour or half-hour. She told Will, ‘It’s eleven sixteen. If we get past noon, we’re going to have to rethink this. There’s no telling how many people will turn up here for lunch.’

Deshawn said, ‘You’re talking most of the people who work in the stores, a lot more kids. This place is filled by twelve thirty.’

Will rubbed his jaw as he studied the map on the wall. The layout was familiar. He’d been to Phipps with Sara more times than he would’ve liked. The mall was three levels, stacked like a wedding cake, with the smaller top tier pushed to the front. There was a round open atrium that ran through all three floors. The railings were glass with polished wood and gold handrails. The elevator had a glass back. Will couldn’t help but be reminded of Marcus Rippy’s nightclub, though the ambience was the exact opposite. The floors were sparkling clean. Skylights brought in ample sunshine.

Reuben Figaroa sat in the food court area on the third level, the same as he’d been the entire time. He had picked a good location to trade off his son. Or maybe Virginia Souza had chosen the spot. Even on a Tuesday, the top level was a mecca for pre-school children. The Legoland Discovery Center hosted Toddler Time every Tuesday morning. The movie theater was running a cartoon marathon. Kids weren’t the only problem. There was a large open food court with several fast-food restaurants. Scattered through the rest of the mall were elderly mall walkers and shoppers perusing the over one hundred stores.

If Will was going to trade off a kid for money, this is where he’d do it.

Then again, they didn’t know whether or not Reuben Figaroa meant to make a trade.

A public place. A controlling man who owned a lot of guns. A terrified little boy. A woman who had built her life around hurting kids.

This could go like clockwork or it could go like hell.

Will mentally walked through the best-case scenario: Souza walks into the mall with Anthony. The good guys scoop up the kid and return him to his father. Second-best: Souza manages to give them the slip as she makes her way to the food court, she trades Anthony for the money, the good guys isolate her on the second level, then make an arrest.

Will didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario, the one where Reuben, who didn’t mind hitting women, demanded payback. The one where Virginia Souza had a gun or a knife and a kid in her hands. The one where they went to a second location that there was no way to control.

Then there was Laslo.

Then there was the possibility that Souza had an accomplice.

As the mama in charge, she had her pick of young girls who would do her bidding. Any one of them—any two or three of them—could be posing as one of the young mothers in the food court.

Souza’s girls were street savvy. They would know what a cop looked like. They could warn Souza. They would have her back if the trade went south. They were all as feral as Angie, hardened and mean and desperate to do whatever it took to protect their family.

Amanda said, ‘She won’t take the elevators. That’s not a quick getaway.’

‘It wouldn’t make sense to go down to the parking garage.’ Deshawn pointed to the map again, the glass elevator in the atrium. ‘She’d have to go down two levels, then this is the closest exit. But we can keep the elevators from going down to the garage if you want.’

‘Do that.’ Will told Amanda, ‘Reuben has the knee brace. He won’t be able to move fast.’

‘Let’s hope it’s not Reuben we’re following out of this mall.’ Amanda asked Deshawn, ‘How would you get out of here? Down the escalators to the second level, then what?’

‘Level one is the only way out.’ Deshawn was still at the map. ‘If we take out the parking garage, there are twelve street entrances. Three each at Belk, Saks and Nordstrom. Then we’ve got two more entrances off Monarch Court and one more entrance off the Avenue of the South. Either one can take you to Peachtree or the interstate. I’d go this exit at the valet parking station.’

‘Makes sense,’ Amanda said. ‘Reuben’s car is parked in front of Saks. He takes a right, he’s in the car, then onto the interstate.’

‘Or home,’ Will said, but Amanda’s look told him that she didn’t think it was likely.

Her radio clicked. She walked to the other side of the room, checking in with the team. Twelve uniformed cops from the APD’s Buckhead precinct were scattered around the mall. SWAT was on the roof and staked out across the buildings on the corner. Mall security was keeping to its regular rounds so as not to raise suspicion. Three of the GBI agents from the chase cars outside Reuben’s house were spread out near the escalators. The fourth was trailing Laslo, who had been casing the mall for the last hour and a half.

Angie was right about Reuben Figaroa. He had come early to give himself a tactical advantage. Which was good, because it had given Amanda time to set up her people too.

Will’s biggest concern was, had Virginia Souza done the same?

All they had to identify the woman by was her last booking photo, which had been taken four years ago. Her long, stringy brown hair and smeared make-up made her look like central casting’s idea of an old whore. If Souza was as smart as Angie said, she’d know that she couldn’t walk into Phipps Plaza looking like herself. The mall was too high-end for her to go unnoticed.

Deshawn said, ‘We can call in maintenance, maybe put up a barrier on that escalator, make it look like it’s broken down.’

Will said, ‘I’m worried that might tip him off.’

‘He doesn’t look jumpy.’

‘No,’ Will said, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. A composed man was a man who had made up his mind.

They could detain Reuben. You didn’t need cause to do that. But then Souza might have a spotter who warned her off, and the next time they saw Anthony he would be in a gutter or on the internet.

Will looked at the bank of high-definition monitors on the wall. The displays were in full color. There was no need to toggle through the different security cameras. There were sixteen screens. The largest monitor, the one in the center of the wall, showed Reuben Figaroa.

He was sitting at the back of the food court, one level up from where Will stood. The open atrium was at his shoulder. There was no way he could escape over the side. Even a basketball star couldn’t survive a three-story fall. Fortunately, the tables immediately around him were vacant. The other shoppers were keeping a wide berth. The mothers seemed especially suspicious of a man sitting alone in the place where they had brought their children.

Reuben had come incognito, a Falcons hat tight on his bald head. A laptop was on the table in front of him. He was slumped in the chair in an attempt to conceal his height. His mustache and goatee had grown into a full beard, because he was one of those guys who needed to shave every four hours. He was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans, not exactly combat gear, but close enough. A large duffel bag was at his feet. Because of the T-shirt, they knew he wasn’t wearing a gun, but the duffel bag was easily large enough to accommodate a rifle or an automatic machine gun or a handgun, or all three.