Agent Burgess paused to consider her suggestion. “That might just be the reason. It’s so strange that she specifically says that she can’t tell us what she’s eating . . . you might be on to something. I’m not saying you’re right. But it’s good thinking.”
“I don’t think so,” Agent Maclean interjected. “I think you’re grasping at straws, Celeste. I know you want to help your friend, but this just sounds like a wild goose chase. No offense. We appreciate your input.”
Oh yeah, I can tell, Celeste thought, regarding the woman coolly. You’re really impressed. With yourself.
“Actually, what Celeste said makes sense to me,” said Mrs. Hixson.
“Me too,” her husband added.
Burgess held up his hands. “Okay, thank you all.” As senior agent, it was time for him to take control of the discussion. “This business of the unmentionable food is very odd. But we’re avoiding the elephant in the room.”
“What’s that?” asked Cassie’s father.
The agent studied him, wondering how to phrase this. “Well, Gordon, I hope you’re not offended, but we’ve checked into your financial position pretty thoroughly, with the help of the Internal Revenue Service. When someone is being shaken down for money, we have to do that.”
Dr. Hixson nodded. “Of course you do. And?”
“And, although you’ve done very well for yourself and your family, you’re not in a position to simply write someone a check for five million dollars. We’re trying to figure out why they chose you to victimize. There are nearly 300,000 people in this city. Including the metro area makes it over half a million. That includes quite a few millionaires, and a handful of billionaires. They have children, too. Why you? Why Cassie?”
Dr. Hixson shook his head, his voice almost inaudible. “I . . . simply . . . can’t . . . imagine. I’m just a radiologist. Nothing special.”
Celeste looked at him, biting her lip. This is just too sad. God forgive me, but I’m so thankful my dad’s not the one in this position.
“I’m sure you’re a lot more than that, Gordon,” Agent Burgess said. “We’ve checked around. You’re respected by your peers, you’re a pillar of your church, you’re raising a wonderful family, along with Barbara. You have a great reputation. But you’re not a prime candidate for blackmail or kidnapping. Now, I have to ask you the classic question that you’ve heard on television a million times: Do you have any personal enemies?”
Oh, right, Celeste thought to herself. The Radiologist Mafia probably has a hit out on him.
Dr. Hixson leaned back and thought for a moment. “Agent Burgess, as far as I know, I don’t have a single enemy in this world. When I have an argument with a friend, we always end up laughing. I just can’t think of a single person I’d consider an enemy, or who would consider me one.” He paused for a moment. “Is that unusual, in your experience?”
“No, it’s not,” replied the agent. “Outside of criminal circles, I’ve seen very few cases of actual ‘deadly enemies’ in real life.”
“Well, there you go. I don’t know what else to say.”
Burgess turned to his partner. “Agent Maclean, do you have any other questions?”
She set her laptop on the floor and sat forward in her chair, elbows on her knees. “Thank you, Agent Burgess. Celeste, I think you can help me with this one.” Celeste nodded to the woman. “This might sound silly, but I remember being a teenager, in high school, and all the rivalries and gossip among the girls. You’re Cassie’s best friend. Do you think she has any enemies? Serious ones, I mean?”
Celeste sat still, except for playing with the zipper on one of her sleeves. She thought to herself for a full minute before answering. “Well Agent Maclean, it’s like you said. Even though we don’t go to a regular school, a lot of us hang out together. Cassie’s popular, but some of the girls don’t like her. . . . You know that her boyfriend is Mayor Walker’s son. Some girls envy her because of that, although I don’t think Chad is such a big deal, frankly. And — ” the color rose in her cheeks as she glanced at the Hixsons — “she’s not exactly poor, either, like y’all were talking about. So sure, there’s a lot of jealousy. Some girls say she’s stuck up. Which she isn’t, by the way, or I don’t think she’d want me for a friend. But I don’t think anybody, anybody, would want to see her really hurt, or . . .” She shook her head. “Um, no. No real, serious enemies. Does that help?”
She was astonished when Agent Maclean crouched in front of her, bringing them face to face. “That’s very helpful, Celeste. You’re a really good friend, and Cassie’s lucky to have you. You told me just what I needed to know.” Celeste picked at her sleeves. “And I didn’t mean to criticize your idea about the food. Sometimes I’m not very diplomatic. Okay?”
Celeste nodded. The woman stood and returned to her chair. Agent Burgess looked at her approvingly. Maclean is pretty good with people, he thought. She just needs more experience. At twenty-five, the younger agent had been chosen for this case because the higher-ups thought that she’d work well with teenagers. This was her first major investigation.
“What are we going to do, Agent Burgess?” asked Mrs. Hixson.
He cleared his throat. “We’re going to find your daughter. We’re going to do lab work on that video, and search the area, and start interviewing people. Whoever took her is going to answer for it. But while we’re working on it, we’re also waiting to hear from the kidnappers again. I’m sure they’ll be in touch.
“Gordon, here’s a big decision. I know you can’t pay this ransom. The kidnappers seem to think differently. But the Department of Justice has a special fund for victims of crime, which you and your family certainly are. We can help, but it has to be your decision. Something is nagging at me, telling me that the ransom isn’t the whole story here. But it’s the only demand they’ve made. If the money can be provided, do you want to pay these people?”
“To get Cassie back? Of course I do! There’s no question.” Mrs. Hixson squeezed his hand in hers. “If the government can help, fine. I’ll pay back every penny. I’ll get another mortgage on the house. I’ll sell my share of the radiology practice. But we’ve got to get Cassie. The next time those . . . people . . . get in touch, I’ll tell them ‘yes!’”
Agent Burgess reached out and held Dr. Hixson’s free hand in a tight grip. “That’s the correct decision, in my opinion. It’s the best way to get Cassie back, one way or another. This is a horrible thing for you, Gordon, but the Bureau has been dealing with kidnappers for a very long time. We have a lot of experience. But I have to be honest. Criminals are unpredictable. I can’t give you an ironclad guarantee that they’ll honor the deal. You understand that, don’t you?”
The Hixsons both nodded; it was nothing worse than they’d already feared. “I promise you, though,” Burgess continued, “the odds are in our favor. If you agree to play their game, it’s very probable that Cassie will come home safe and sound.” He released the doctor’s hand and sat up straight in his chair.
“Now, if it’s all right with you, and you have the right to say no, we’d like to take Cassie’s computer and analyze the hard drive. We want to see every communication she’s received or sent since the day you bought it. We’ll also have the information from her phone. We already have access to her Instagram, but we’ll need to see her email and texts, when we get it. We need your permission. I know this is a terrible violation of her privacy — and probably yours, Celeste, since you’re undoubtedly on there — but every tiny scrap of information that helps us save her life is worth it. Do we have your permission?”
Dr. Hixson nodded his head. “On one condition, Agent Burgess. We trust our daughter. We don’t want to be told of anything you find on her computer, or any of the information you copy from the phone, unless it relates to her kidnapping. Even if you get a break, we don’t need to know Cassie’s secrets. This is an official matter for the authorities to handle.”
“I appreciate that,” Burgess replied. “I kn
ow Cassandra would, too. We don’t always see this kind of trust in a family.”
Dr. Hixson’s face became firm as he looked the agent in the eye. “I’m talking about all the authorities. Keep the Yorkville police in the loop, or Mayor Walker will get involved.”
“I understand, Gordon. As for cooperation . . . we’ll do our best. I’ll explain the political considerations to the SAIC, the special agent in charge, of our field office.”
Mrs. Hixson spoke up. “There’s nothing on the desktop but schoolwork. Cassie and our son both use it for their lessons. Could you leave that one here?” Burgess nodded. “Celeste, would you please show Agent Maclean up to Cassie’s room, and get the pink laptop?”
“Yes ma’am,” Celeste said, standing up, moving toward the stairs with the woman.
“I think we’ve been through enough for one evening,” Burgess said as they waited for Maclean and Celeste to return. “All of you have been very helpful. I don’t know how you’re holding up so well.”
Dr. Hixson looked straight in the man’s eyes. “We’re not holding up, Agent Burgess. Someone is holding us up. And he’s holding up our Cassie, too.”
CHAPTER SEVEN: Cassie Strikes Back
“Eighty-five . . . eighty-six . . . eighty-seven. . . .”
Her knees bent, hands at the sides of her head, Cassie’s torso moved up and down, back and forth, as she counted off the sit-ups in her improvised workout. She had moved the blanket from the bed and spread it out on the floor for her ground exercises, but it didn’t make a very good mat. I wish I had a headband, she thought, holding her hair in place to keep it from brushing against her cheeks. “Eighty-eight . . .” At least I finally have some fresh clothes, though. “Eighty-nine. . . .”
“Cassandra? Come to the white room, please.”
Eldon Dayle’s voice crackled from the overhead speaker without warning, startling her, causing her to lose count. Oh, God, what are they gonna do now? She hesitated, then stood up and padded into the bathroom, where she splashed some cold water on her face and grabbed a towel.
She was wearing gray cotton gym shorts and a plain white tank top, now generously soaked in sweat. Skip didn’t spend much time shopping. A couple of pairs of sweatpants, several t-shirts and tank tops, a sweatshirt, two pairs of gym shorts, and three sets of underwear. At least she got sports bras. And the right sizes. But why didn’t she get me any shoes, or give my old ones back to me? She’d been barefoot since the day she woke up here. She draped the towel around the back of her neck and walked into the white room.
Dayle appeared to be looking down at her from the large screen. As usual, he was wearing a coat and tie, and playing with his fountain pen. “Oh, I see I’ve interrupted your daily exercises. How unfortunate.”
“It’s not the first time you’ve interrupted them, is it?” she replied, remembering the “pregnant” woman with the flat tire. She began toweling the sweat off her arms. You’re not brave. So pretend to be brave. She glared up at the screen, although she knew that the cameras weren’t located there. It was just an automatic reflex, as though they really were face to face.
The man clucked his tongue. “Now, now, don’t be sarcastic, Cassandra. You can’t say we’ve mistreated you, can you? Apart from abducting you, I mean. Skip even bought you some clothes, as we promised.”
“Sure. You’ve kept your promises so far. Three cheers for the noble kidnapper. Speaking of clothes, would it be too much to ask for some shoes? You don’t have to buy them. The ones you stole from me would be fine.”
Dayle frowned. “You know, Cassandra, your bad manners are actually getting worse. Do you know just how little your ‘Christianity’ affects your behavior? You’re really becoming a spoiled brat, if you weren’t already.” He sighed. “Such a hypocrite. . . . As for shoes, we’ll see. But, as long as we’re discussing your childish complaints, is there anything else you think you need?”
She thought for a moment. “Well . . . yes. I’ll ask politely.” Not that you deserve it. “I’m really, really bored. May I please have something to read? I’m sure you could let me watch television on that screen, but I’d much rather read. And, if it’s not too much trouble, may I please ask for a jump rope, next time Skip goes shopping?”
Dayle’s eyes widened. “Why, Cassandra, that was almost courteous. Your moods change quickly, don’t they? Of course, most religious fanatics are unstable. . . . Yes, I think we can find some reading material for you. No, you may not have a jump rope. As you’ve said, you’re not a child, and this isn’t a gym. We even threw away those weights you were wearing on your wrists. As for the television, that’s why I called you in here.”
Without another word, he produced a remote control from a desk drawer and pressed a button. Suddenly, the image on the 60” screen was split in half: the right side showing Dayle as usual, the left side displaying a local news broadcast.
The anchorman had already begun his report. “In tonight’s top stories: a dramatic unsolved disappearance earlier this week, involving a Yorkville teenager. WYRK-10’s Marianne Pepper has the story. Marianne?”
The scene shifted to a blonde woman standing on a suburban lawn, holding a microphone. That’s home! She’s at my house! Cassie stared. She immediately noticed that the front door was closed, the drapes were drawn over the front window, and that no one but the reporter was in view. If there were onlookers or neighbors around, they weren’t on camera.
“That’s right, Jeff. I’m here at the home of Dr. Gordon Hixson, a Yorkville radiologist, whose seventeen year old daughter Cassandra has allegedly been kidnapped. Authorities are not disclosing the actual day that Cassandra went missing, but WYRK has learned that she had attended church services with her family on Sunday, nearly a week ago. You may remember, Jeff, that Cassandra was in the news back in November, when this home schooled teen took first place in the Statewide High School Essay Contest. Sources within the FBI have released this dramatic video, sent to the authorities sometime this week. Although the soundtrack has been removed, supposedly to protect sensitive information, the video seems to prove that, at least as recently as Monday, Cassandra Hixson was alive and well — and that this is, in fact, a case of kidnapping.”
The woman’s face was replaced by a clip from the video. Cassie gnawed at a thumbnail as she saw herself on the screen, holding up the newspaper, soundlessly talking to the camera. The reporter spoke over the video. “In an age of camera phones and YouTube, this video was apparently the alleged kidnappers’ ransom note, although authorities have not revealed their alleged demands. Notice the newspaper, Jeff. The headlines are clearly from the Monday edition.”
The screen went back to the anchorman. “We’ve seen that technique used by terrorists in the past, Marianne, and as you say, it makes their point. This is heartbreaking. Have you had a chance to speak with Cassandra’s parents?”
“Yes we have, Jeff. In fact, WYRK-10 has obtained this exclusive interview, including Dr. and Mrs. Hixson’s message for their daughter.”
There they were! Cassie’s mom and dad were standing on the front porch, talking to the woman, their arms around each other’s waists. Cassie moved a few steps closer to the screen, her eyes brimming with tears. “Dr. Hixson,” the reporter asked, holding a microphone close to his face, “I’m sure the thoughts and prayers of all our viewers are with you at this terrible time. We know you can’t give us any confidential information. But, in case your daughter may be seeing this, is there anything you’d like to say to her?”
The camera zoomed in on his face. “Yes, Marianne.” He looks so strong, but so sad! Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry! “Cassie, if you can hear us right now, we just want you to know — ”
The news broadcast disappeared, and the entire screen was filled with Eldon Dayle’s smirking face. “I think that’s enough. Your parents are such a handsome couple, Cassandra.”
“Nooo!” Cassie wailed, her hands balled into fists. “Don’t stop it! Turn it back on! I want to hear!” The tears flowed f
reely down her cheeks.
Dayle ignored her. “Those reporters are such vultures. Isn’t it shameful the way they exploit human suffering? They’re probably ‘good Christians,’ too. Hypocrites like all the rest. . . .”
“Turn it back on! Please!”
“I think you’ve seen enough, Cassandra. By the way, I thought that Skip’s video came across quite well on television, don’t you?” He flipped the fountain pen into the air and caught it between his knuckles, never taking his eyes off the camera.
Cassie had never used bad language, but she wanted to scream out every obscenity she’d ever heard at this man. Why was he torturing her like this? But something restrained her. Instead, her body found another way of dealing with the adrenaline from her workout.
She turned away from the screen and walked to the coffee table. Reaching inside the wrought iron frame, she pushed the glass up, then removed it carefully from the lip of the frame. This must weigh thirty pounds, she thought to herself. She hefted it up in her arms, the dull edges digging in to her flesh. It was like a huge glass discus.
THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA Page 8