CHAPTER 15
Bluebirds Fly In
Friday, April 9, 8:53 a.m. . . .
After their Mustang convertible getaway, it didn’t take long for Barton to realize that Jackson wasn’t driving toward SMA headquarters.
“Where’re we going?” said Barton, shouting to overcome wind noise from riding with the top down.
“Me and some of my boys,” Jackson shouted back, “we’re going to need some time to work on you, Barton. Plus, we’re still thinking through the ransom amount . . .”
Barton looked sideways at his friend, who kept his eyes straight ahead on the road, face expressionless. Then Jackson grinned broadly and pushed at Barton’s shoulder. “Just messin’ with you, man. They told me to bring you downtown. Century Park. Avenue of the Stars. Perfect for you bro.’”
“Who’s ...
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