Chapter 53
The fake Rolex is delivered by courier that afternoon, complete with engraved initials and date to match the original.
I lay the watch out alongside the genuine items on the dining room table—the scarf, the wallet, the glasses, the keys, the dog collar, and the phone—and explain the plan to my wife and brother-in-law.
“I’m going to hand it all over,” I say. “Before anyone else gets hurt. Just hope they don’t realize the Rolex isn’t the real deal.”
My brother-in-law studies the items arranged along the table.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” he says, looking through the old wallet, empty except for a tightly folded cashpoint receipt. “How do they know what to expect?”
“They know there are seven items; it was one of the instructions they gave to Shaun Rutherford.”
“But do they know exactly what’s here? Have they been specific about any of it, about what you’re supposed to give them, so they’ll leave you alone?”
I scroll through the text thread again. “Only the watch.”
“So: maybe they don’t actually know the details. Maybe this stuff has been here so long they’ve forgotten.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Or maybe they never knew in the first place.”
“Then why do they want it all back?”
“That doesn’t really matter.”
Jess crosses her arms. “Seems like it matters to them.”
“Just humor me for a minute.” Dom lays the wallet down next to the old scarf.
“What if they’re not sure exactly what was stashed in that dresser?
Then… we could give them anything, to get them off your back.
They’re not going to know, are they? And we get to keep some leverage in case they don’t go away. ”
“We don’t want leverage,” Jess says, frowning. “We want them to leave us alone.”
I consider his idea for a moment. “They’ll be pissed off if they figure out that we’ve given them dummies.”
“They’re already pissed off,” Dom says. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it? You’re giving them a fake anyway, so why not give them a few more, retain some bargaining power?”
“I don’t know, Dom.”
“They’ve been smart, these people—not doing quite enough to get the police fully involved, staying anonymous, out of arm’s reach.
” He indicates the bandage on my head. “They’ve shown they’re willing to use violence to get what they want.
If we can identify them, unmask them, we take away their power and they won’t be able to threaten you anymore. ”
With my reluctant agreement, we spend a few minutes gathering a handful of items: an old pair of Jess’s reading glasses and a wallet from the kids’ dressing-up box, one of Coco’s old collars, minus the tag.
For authenticity, we add the old Motorola phone, the scarf, and the brass key with the two rings.
“We need to give them something extra as well,” Dom says. “Wait here a minute.”
He goes out to his car and returns a moment later, opening his hand to reveal a small metallic disc about the size of a two-pound coin, the familiar Apple logo in the center.
“What’s that?”
“AirTag.” He slips the disc into the lining of the dummy wallet, pushing it in as deep as it will go. “I keep one in my work bag in case it ever gets lost or stolen.”
“What is it, like a tracker?”
“Kind of,” he says. “It sends out a passive Bluetooth signal that can be detected by any nearby Apple device. That device sends the location to the Cloud, then you can go to the Find My app and see where your AirTag is on a map.”
I frown. “But that little thing could end up miles away. Your phone won’t be anywhere near it.”
“Doesn’t have to be—that’s the coolest thing about it.
” He grins. Beneath his gruff exterior, my brother-in-law has always been a bit of a Gadget Boy.
“As long as the tag is in Bluetooth range of any iPhone, or any Apple device, it will be passively broadcasting its location. So as long as it doesn’t end up in the middle of the Sahara Desert we should have a good shot at finding it.
And the whole thing is anonymous and encrypted. ”
“Sounds absolutely perfect for stalkers.”
He gives me a don’t be a spoilsport look. “It’s perfect for what we need today. We’ll be able to track them, see where the bag ends up—find out where this person lives.”
When we’re finished getting the items together and he’s satisfied the AirTag is pinging its location, I send a text to the unknown number.
OK you can have it all. Tell me where to bring it.
The reply arrives barely a minute later.
Wollaton Park 8 p.m. exactly, main car park. Put everything in a black bag. More instructions when you get there.
Jess reads the message over my shoulder, pulling up Google Maps on her own phone to study the location.
Wollaton Park is a bit more than a mile west of here, a wide expanse of parkland with a grand old Elizabethan hall sitting atop its highest point.
It’s a popular place for families, concerts are held there in the summer, and deer roam the grounds all year round; but at eight o’clock on a cloudy Monday evening, it would be fairly quiet.
“It’s an interesting choice,” I say. “For them at least. Lots of open space, so they’ll be able to observe from a distance away.”
We had less than forty minutes. I wrap all the items in a plastic bag and find an old black backpack, zipping it shut as another text arrives.
Come alone. Any police and it will be your kids going to the hospital this time.
With a chill creeping over my skin, I text a reply to tell them I understand and show the message thread to Jess.
“OK,” she says grimly. “I’m doing this.”
Dom turns to her. “What?”
“Give me your keys.”
“Hang on, sis—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not standing by, letting you two take all the risks.” She points at me. “Adam’s already hurt, and you sat down with Shaun Rutherford a few days ago. For all we know it could be him on the other end of this phone. They don’t know me and they won’t be expecting me. Especially not in your car.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Jess, I don’t want you to—”
“They’re my kids too, Adam. And no offense to either of you, but you haven’t exactly dealt with this problem over the past week, have you? I’d prefer if the two of you stayed here, close to the kids. Besides which, I’ve run around Wollaton Park a million times. I know it better than either of you.”
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
“We’re wasting time.” She pulls her jacket off the chair, holds a hand out to her brother. “Give me your keys, Dominic.”
“Wait a minute.” I hold up a hand. “Why will they even see the car?”
“Because I’m going to wait, watch the pickup, and follow them. See if I can get a car registration plate or even better, find out where they live.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Jess. They’re going to be watching you, watching everything you do.”
“I know. But there’s only two ways out of the park in a vehicle. And one of them is normally blocked off unless there’s a concert or a special event. Also”—she holds her phone up—“the gates close at 8:30 p.m., which means they’ll have to make a move by then.”
“Unless they’re on foot,” I say, pointing to the map on her phone. “In which case they’ll have more options. Footpaths to the south and west, in other directions.”
“Would you be on foot for something like this?”
“Probably not.”
“Me neither. I’d want to get away quickly.”
“Surely you don’t need to follow them,” I say. “We can just let Dom’s gadget do its thing, can’t we?”
She swings the backpack up over her shoulder.
“This might be the only time they break cover, our only chance to get a look at them. We need to know something about who’s doing all this, otherwise we’re going to be at their mercy for as long as they want. We need to get on the front foot.”
“I know,” I say. “But this is my mess, my problem to sort out.”
She shakes her head. “Bollocks to that. This is my family too. My children.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“It’ll be fine.” She puts an AirPod into her right ear, checks that the small white device is connecting to her iPhone, and pulls her hoodie up over it. “I’ll be in touch.”
I pull her in for a hug. “Be careful.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about being careful, Adam Wylie.”
“You know what I mean.”
She kisses me, her lips soft against mine.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”