Free 15 Seconds by Andrew Gross

put you in any harm. I promise. What do you say? ”

Chapter Eleven
    “Y es,” she replied, without hesitation. “I knew this all had to be something crazy. I’m at the—”
    “I know where you are—” I cut her off. “And you have no idea what this means to me, Jennifer. You can’t. You’re a godsend. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
    It took about twenty minutes to get there, and just to be safe, I entered the hotel grounds at the adjacent golf course, and left Mike’s Jag on the second level of the two-story garage.
    I walked the short distance over to the main lobby, telling myself I had no reason to be concerned, that no one was looking for me here. That I looked like any golfer, in my khakis, my golf cap, and shades. That Mike’s stolen car wasn’t on any news reports yet.
    I stepped into the glass-roofed, atrium lobby. It was packed with people from maybe a dozen trade-show groups and conventions. There was some kind of arena football game in town and a throng of boosters wearing black-and-aqua Shark caps and logo sweatshirts was gathered near the entrance, probably heading to some kind of rally.
    Everything seemed benign, nothing to worry about. Not that I was exactly trained to spot undercover police if they were there. I scanned the lobby . . . lots of noise, people moving everywhere . . . and spotted the elevators. Jennifer told me to go to room 2107.
    I put down my cap and was about to head across the floor when I saw him.
    My chest tightened.
    Not someone in uniform, but in a plain, navy-blue windbreaker, leaning against the wall near the restrooms while scanning the crowd.
    He might well have just been hotel security, if it wasn’t for the terrifying realization that I had seen him once before.
    From the back of Martinez’s police car.
    He was one of the policemen who was milling around when Martinez stopped me.
    Every nerve in my body slammed to a stop.
    I turned my back to him. I didn’t know what to do, except that I had to get out of there now. In truth, I was petrified to even take a step. The guy clearly hadn’t seen me yet. He just stood there as if he was waiting to meet a friend. I eased my way toward the football boosters.
    Why was he here now?
    Then the answer became clear: Jennifer had turned me in. It was a trap! They were waiting for me. Who could even blame her? The only reason I wasn’t spread-eagled on the floor with a gun to my head was that I hadn’t come in through the front entrance, pulling up in my white Caddie, as they were clearly expecting me to do. They must not know about Mike yet. I figured there were several of them, stationed all around. My whole body went rigid with fear. I searched around for the best way out.
    And then my cell phone rang.
    I would never have even glanced at it in that moment—I was petrified it would draw attention to me—had I not thought that it could well be Liz, and I didn’t want to miss her. Slowly I melded into the crowd of boosters. I pulled out my phone and glanced at the screen. It wasn’t Liz.
    It was Hallie.
    I didn’t want to answer, but it rang two, then three times, and I felt as if the trill was echoing around the lobby, calling everyone’s attention to me. I just saw my daughter’s name on the screen— Hallie, Hallie . . . And I didn’t know if Liz had spoken with her and if she knew. Knew all that had happened.
    So I just pressed the green button before my voice recording came on and muttered softly, set to call her back. “Hallie . . .”
    But the voice I heard wasn’t hers. It was a man’s voice, both muffled and unrecognizable.
    And what he said on my daughter’s phone jarred me more than anything that had happened today.
    He kind of chuckled as he asked, “So how you liking it all so far, Doc?”

Chapter Twelve
    I froze.
    I realized right away who was on the other end. That I was speaking to the person who was responsible for all this. Who had killed Mike. Martinez.
    And he was calling on my