by James, Ed
“I can’t let him go!”
“You have to.” Chase stood up tall. “Kaitlyn, you don’t have a plan. You’ve been winging this. The feds have been on your back since you took him. I paid someone to help you, means I’m up to my neck in this. And I’ve upset some very nasty people to protect you.”
“You paid her?”
Chase gave her a nod. “My friend saved you at the bus station and drove you here last night.” He took her hand and stroked it. “It’s over. Let’s hand him in to the cops. I’ll take the heat. Duke can. Whatever. But Ky needs to be with Landon and Jennifer. They’re his parents.”
Kaitlyn didn’t say anything.
“Come on. You need to return Ky. We can all support you when you’ve left the state. I have money, I can help you disappear. Okay?”
Duke looked around at Chase. “Son, you better get your ass out of here.”
“No. She needs to turn Ky over to the FBI. Anything else we can discuss, but it’s the right thing to do here.”
“That’s your plan?” Duke raised his eyebrows. “Return the baby?”
“You don’t have an alternative, do you? Sooner or later, she’ll get caught and she’ll lose him anyway.”
Kaitlyn stood up and carried Ky over to the window. Across the tiny yard, a lawn and some trees. Then she turned to Chase and stared right at him.
Duke followed her over, slower and with a lot more coughing. He had to rest against the sill. “Kaitlyn, you need to be in the wind. Go now. Take Cole, Ky, whatever he’s called, but just go now. I’ll take the blame for this. A crazy old dude hopped out of his skull on chemo drugs.”
Kaitlyn scowled at him. “Duke, no.”
Duke didn’t even look at Chase. “If the feds are on their way here, you need to get out of here. Now, I can drive you south, west, whatever. But they’ll be looking around here, so I suggest you take the ferry back to the city, then rent a car and go somewhere. Now either you take that kid or you don’t, but if you do, you bring him up good, you hear? I’ll take any heat coming your way.”
Kaitlyn’s lips were quivering. Either way, she had a lifetime as a fugitive, it was just whether that was with Ky or not.
Chase held out a hand. “Come on, Kaitlyn. You need to take him back.”
She stared hard at him for a few seconds, then looked over at her mother. “Mom, what do I do?”
Beverley looked torn, her forehead creased and crinkled, her gaze shooting between her husband and her daughter. “I think you should do what your father says.”
“That’s complete bull—”
“Son!” Beverley grabbed Chase by the arm. “You need to leave!”
* * *
10:25
Chase focused on the house in his rearview.
Kaitlyn and Duke both left the house with Ky. Duke helped her into the pickup outside, then took his time hauling his bones in front. The engine rattled, then he drove along the street, giving Chase a backward glance as he tugged on his seatbelt.
He twisted the key until the electrics came on and followed their path through the town. Low-rent accommodation and thrift stores. Cheap-ass cars and diners.
Duke’s truck stopped at an intersection next to a naval yard. On the left was the ferry terminal. On the right, the road opened up to a freeway, heading south around the Sound to Tacoma, this area’s other connection to the rest of the nation.
So left meant Duke’s plan, right meant Chase’s? Maybe.
But Duke’s turn signal wasn’t on.
The light turned green and Duke went straight, heading for the ferry.
So she’d decided to keep Ky.
The poor kid was going to face a life on the run, with Kaitlyn always looking over her shoulder. When she inevitably screwed up and got caught, he’d lose who he thought was his mother and face the trauma of being reacquainted with his biological parents. The confusion, the fear.
They were doing the wrong thing. Maybe for the right reasons, or what they thought were the right reasons.
What the hell was Chase going to do about it?
Fifty-Three
CARTER
11:07
Carter stepped down onto the damp sidewalk. The address was just down the block. “Think I’ve only been to Bremerton once, with Emma years ago.”
Elisha flashed her eyebrows. “Can’t have left much of an impression on you.”
“Let’s do this.” Carter set off toward the house, his service weapon heavy in its holster tight across his chest, then went up the short path and thumped the door. “FBI!”
Some sounds came from inside, maybe footsteps padding to the door. “Who’s there?”
“It’s the FBI, ma’am.” Elisha held her badge up to the peephole. “Looking for Beverley Stretton?”
The door opened to a crack and a woman in her late forties squinted out at them. Dyed red hair, but she seemed exhausted, like her life had taken a couple of tolls on her. “That’s me. What’s this about?”
“Ma’am, we need access to your property to—”
“You can’t do this!”
Elisha stepped forward, easing Beverley off to the side, then pushed the door wide.
“Get out of my house! You can’t do this!”
“We can, ma’am.” Carter blocked Beverley’s path back to the door to let Elisha search the house. “I lead the FBI’s Child Abduction Rapid Deployment unit, based out of Seattle. We’re investigating the abduction of a Ky Bartlett. We urgently need to speak to a Kaitlyn Presswood.”
Beverley collapsed back against the house. “Kaitlyn ain’t here.”
“You know her, though?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She doesn’t have your name.”
Seemed to derail her. “It’s her father’s. My husband, Duke, his name’s John Stretton. We never got around to changing Kaitlyn’s last name. Everyone called her Kaitlyn Stretton, but legally she was still Kaitlyn Presswood.” Beverley glared at him. “My daughter skipped town to go to college in the city. Turned her back on us, after all we’d done for her. We didn’t hear from her in fifteen months, then she came back here two weeks ago, saying she’d lost a baby.”
“Lost?”
“Said they took it from her.”
“Ma’am, she was a surrogate mother.”
“I know she was. To Landon and Jennifer Bartlett. It isn’t illegal anymore.”
“No, but child abduction is.”
Her eyes bulged.
“Ma’am, your daughter broke in and abducted the baby from its crib.”
“She’s been here since last Tuesday.”
That’s how she was playing it, then?
Elisha walked over and leaned in to whisper, “No sign of anyone else, but there’s a crib in there.”
Carter stepped away to focus on Beverley. “Why is there a crib?”
“Because my daughter was talking about suing to get custody. Said she’d need a place to keep the kid. Kaitlyn’s very single-minded. When she gets something in her head…”
“Ma’am, she is neither the child’s legal nor biological parent.”
“But she gave birth to him.”
“Where is she now?”
“Kaitlyn hasn’t been sleeping. She went out with Duke. Her stepfather. Used to be a nurse. One of his buddies is a doctor and he wrote her a script for something. Probably what caused her insomnia. They’re off seeing him now, trying to get something else.”
“You know this buddy’s address?”
* * *
11:15
The diner on the corner had that small-town America smell, frying onions and burgers, blending with the heavy vanilla smell of milkshakes. Place looked out on Bremerton’s main street and down toward the ferry terminal. Only one customer at this time, a huge guy sagging on a stool in the corner, gripping a burger like his life depended on it.
Carter stepped over to him. “Dr. Robertson?”
The man didn’t look up from his burger. “Depends who�
�s asking.”
“FBI, sir.” Carter held out his badge. “So, are you Dr. Robertson?”
“That’s me.” Diet clearly wasn’t his specialty. A pair of hamburgers, one half-eaten, sat on top of a plate of sweet potato fries. He wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin and added it to the pile building up. His curly hair grew out as two points, like a clown. “What’s up?”
“Looking for a Kaitlyn Presswood. Duke Stretton’s stepdaughter.”
“Right, sure.” Robertson took a slurp of Coke. “We go back a ways. Duke’s a good man. One of the best. Real shame what’s happening.”
“What you mean?”
“His cancer.”
It hit Carter hard. From out of nowhere. “You seen her today?”
“Should I have?” Robertson popped a fry in his mouth.
Carter took the stool next to him. “Sir, I’m a federal agent and I need to speak to her. Urgently. Have you seen her today?”
“Her and Duke dropped by just before I came here for my five minutes of peace. Kid said she wasn’t sleeping, so I wrote her a prescription for something to help with that.”
Carter didn’t buy his story. It was all slotting into place too easily. “That the first prescription you gave her?”
“Nope. I’d need to check my records when the other one was.”
“Broadly?”
“Be last week, I think. An anti-depressant. Need to check. You know how kids are these days. My generation’s hard on them because our folks were hard on us, but I’d hate to grow up these days, I swear. So much pressure.”
“You any idea where they were going?”
“If I were a betting man, I’d check the pharmacy. Walgreens, Rite Aid, or Safeway. Take your pick, bud.”
* * *
11:20
Carter left the Walgreens and stomped across the parking lot back to his Suburban. The drive-thru Starbucks was sure tempting.
A Rite Aid was across the street, and he spotted Elisha charging out, scowling. She took out her cell and put it to her ear.
He answered it immediately. “Not been here.”
“Nor here.” Elisha sighed down the line. “Worth checking the Safeway?”
“I don’t know.” Carter opened the car door and got in. “What’s your take?”
Elisha skipped across the road and powered toward him. “This whole thing’s ringing false to me.”
“Go on?”
Elisha killed the call and got in the passenger side. “Well, the baby’s crib is slept in but she didn’t mention a baby.”
“Okay…” Carter pocketed his cell. “We need to get a DNA trace done. If they’re telling the truth and Kaitlyn was there, then fine. But if Ky was there, then they helped her get away with him. Once we recover him, this is a prosecution. I don’t want another Layla al-Yasin on my hands.”
“You believe Doc Robertson back there?”
“Old buddy of Duke’s… Could be lying.” Carter took out his cell again and called Tyler. “Peterson, need you to get me a set of plates for John ‘Duke’ Stretton, address—”
“Already on it, sir.” Muffled speech in the background. “A ’94 Ford F150 pickup.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m searching for all their cars. Standard procedure, at least for me. Passed it to the local cops and just heard back. It’s parked up outside the ferry terminal in Bremerton.”
Only one thing he was up to there. Helping Kaitlyn escape.
Fifty-Four
KAITLYN
11:20
Ky’s kicking at me as I undo the buckle on his car seat. He won’t let me put him in the papoose easily either. Looks like they’re turning the naval shipyard next door into a museum or something. A long row of cars waits to get on the ferry, not so many waiting to get off.
I look inside at Duke, sitting behind the wheel. “Sure this is the right plan?”
“It’s our only move, Kittycat.” His cell rings. He checks it. “I need to take this.” He turns away.
I should leave, get my ticket, get on the ferry. But I don’t. Ky’s still wriggling in my arms.
Duke snaps his cell shut. “That was Doc Robertson. The feds are onto us. He covered for us, but I don’t think they believe our story…”
“I’m so sorry about this, Duke.”
“Don’t be sorry. We’ll deal with the fallout and protect you. Okay?”
“Right.” I catch a glimpse of flashing blue lights along the main road. A few minutes away, but the feds are homing in on us.
“I’m going for the freeway to throw them off your trail.” Duke pats my arm. “Get back to Seattle and escape from there. I know it’s hard, kid, but you need to do this.”
“I love you, Duke. Thanks for taking in me and Mom.”
“Don’t mention it, Kittycat.”
I rush off toward the terminal. Water flies out of a squat chimney to the right, the overspill from the ferry. There’s a line for the machine, but the teller’s clear. “Seattle, please. One way.” I shove a ten dollar note in.
She passes my ticket and change back through. Barely even looks at me.
I stroll through the terminal, trying to act all calm while my head explodes inside. People are already embarking, that slow trudge along. Someone’s whistling some old show tune.
The guard checking tickets stops me, focusing on Ky. “What’s his name?”
“Her. Kayla. I’m meeting my husband on the ferry.”
“Ma’am, just hold on a second.” The guy gets out his radio.
People are grumbling behind me. He starts letting them through as he talks, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.
Ky is letting out little squawks, a precursor to a full-on attack of screaming. I offer him the pacifier, and he takes it. Thank god.
This was a mistake. The feds are coming and they’ve got me.
* * *
11:25
I grab the last table just before the big guy in the green T-shirt. He steps away, looking real pissed. He stands by a pillar, then checks his cell, then back to me.
Is he on to me? I don’t think so, but…
I rest Ky on the table next to me. He’s fine, but his mouth’s covered in drool. I get one of the baby wipes from my bag and go to work on his face, tidying him up. “There you go.”
He laughs at me.
It spears my heart. I could never give him back. Not to them.
I sit back in the seat and try to focus on the here and now. Try to quit worrying.
But the dude keeps looking at me.
I scan the room for other threats. There’s a guy buying a coffee, but it’s just some guy who looks a bit like him.
I’ll be back in Seattle soon.
Until it sets off, I’m a sitting duck. Hell, until it arrives in Seattle and I’m safely on land, I’m a sitting duck. Layla’s advice hits me—Stay off public transport. The problem isn’t transport, it’s the public part.
Getting the ferry is a mistake. Whatever Duke said about taking the ferry being the less-obvious play, it’s the one that’ll trap me when it falls to pieces. Should’ve driven, taken backroads.
A hand grips on my shoulder. “Need you to come with me.”
Fifty-Five
CARTER
11:33
Carter pulled up outside the ferry terminal, scanning the immediate vicinity and leaving the engine running, just in case. The Seattle ferry had just launched, rolling across the water toward the city. “Peterson, there’s no sign of him here.”
“Sir, just got an update from local police.” Tyler groaned. “His pickup left the terminal area like ten seconds ago. They’ve got eyes on him.”
“Okay.” Carter tried to hide his irritation, but instead mounted the sidewalk on his way back around. No sign of any local police cruisers. He hurtled around the corner, passing some fountains and nearly clipping a car, then cut onto the main road.
A police car was up ahead, just as the road expanded out into a freeway. A pic
kup hung a left at the first turn. Duke’s Ford!
Carter floored it, pulling out to pass a bus. A VW bug was doing twenty, and he had to hit the brakes just as the road branched. Traffic from the tunnel joined from the left, and he scanned for an opening.
There.
Carter floored it and rounded the bug, but traffic was idling on the hill up toward a set of lights. He tried to spot Duke, but there was no sign of him. Looked like he’d turned into a parking lot. Could be any number of escapes from there.
Carter gave a whoop of siren then pulled out into the wave of oncoming traffic. Easy does it, waving as he went, then he slid into the parking lot.
Duke’s pickup sat there, headlights on, engine pluming behind. A silver-haired man sat behind the wheel, thin and wasted looking.
Carter opened his door and jumped out, drawing his gun in one movement, aiming it at the truck. “FBI!”
Duke’s wheels spun.
“Hands in the air!”
But Duke complied.
“Stay there!” Carter kept his gun trained on Duke, then used the parked cars to edge his way over. “Reach down and turn off the ignition.”
The engine juddered to a halt.
Carter tore open the driver door. “Duke Stretton?”
“Christened John, but yeah.” Duke was a barely warmed-up skeleton. Pale skin hung from sharp bones.
“Where is Kaitlyn?”
“She ain’t here.” Duke stared at the floor. “She went back to the city. Fell out with her mother. Again. We tried to help her with what happened, but those drugs… They mess with your head. She’s a good kid, but she’s not sleeping and it’s melting her brain.”
“Is Ky Bartlett there?”
“What?”
“Sir, does she have Ky Bartlett with her?”