by Kelli Walker
“Let go of him!”
“Dom!” I exclaimed.
I ripped open my shed door and went bolting for the house. The sound of glass crashing and wood crackling hit my ears as my legs moved as fast as they could. I saw my son appear in the porch doorway before he wheeled it open, tears streaming down his cheeks and his face red with fear.
“Mom! He has DeShawn! There’s a truck outside and he’s taking Dee to it!”
“Who does?” I asked. “Did you see who it was, baby?”
“Darnell, Mom! He took him!”
“Ma! Hel-!”
The sound of DeShawn’s horrified voice hit my ears and made me nauseous.
“Call the police,” Tristan said as he ran around the house. “Now!”
I shuffled Dom back into the house as tears poured down his cheeks. I ran into my room and reached for my cell phone as the sound of squealing tires hit my ears. I raced out to the kitchen and threw open the porch door long enough to see large tires tear down the road. I looked down and pressed the red ‘emergency’ button on my phone as I held it up to my ear. Dom cried against me, screaming in terror for his brother as my stomach rolled with unrelenting distress.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
But the sound of squealing tires caught my attention again.
I looked across the road and saw Tristan’s truck speeding out of the driveway. He throttled it back, whipping himself around before he threw it into drive. He took off after the truck at lighting speed as I stood there, helpless on my porch. Dom gave out against me and I caught him in my arm, holding him to me as I clenched my jaw to try and keep my cool.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“I need to report a kidnapping,” I said breathlessly. “210 Everacre Rd. in Georgetown.”
“I’m sorry, did you say kidnapping?”
“Yes,” I said. “A kidnapping. My son’s biological father just barged into my home and ripped him from his bed.”
And as the woman took my information and promised an officer to my home, only one thing ran through my mind as sirens struck up in the distance.
Find my son, Tristan. Please find my son.
Tristan
“I’m pulling up the traffic cams now. I’m going to track your movements through them as you maneuver through Georgetown,” Jackson said. “I don’t have a tracker on that beat-up truck of yours, so we’re going old school. Feed me the license plate again.”
“Alpha November X-ray, 8003,” I said. “The truck’s a green Ford Bronco. Looks like a 2007 or 2008 model. I’m right behind the son of a bitch. Who the fuck does that truck belong to?”
“I’m looking it up now,” Jackson said. “Give me a second. I’m sending all this information to the Georgetown police.”
I whipped through traffic and followed the truck as it careened down Main Street. People were hopping off sidewalks and cars were honking and swerving out of the way. I wanted to run into the back of the damn thing. Take him straight off the road and into a fucking tree. But I didn’t have any trees in sight and I didn’t know where in the truck DeShawn was. I wasn’t going to risk civilian casualties to get this asshole off the road, nor was I going to risk DeShawn’s life just to crash into the back of him to try and crack the back axle of the vehicle.
“Got it. The car’s registered to a Michael Deacon.”
“Say that name again?” I asked.
“Michael Deacon. The name ring a bell?” Jackson asked.
Shit. I knew there was something off about that asshole officer.
“Listen to me. Tell the police that Officer Deacon is in on this somehow. I don’t why and I don’t know what the fuck’s going on, but the responding officer the first time shit went down at Isabelle’s was Officer Deacon. I bet you it’s the same damn man.”
Blood sizzled in my veins as the truck careened down an alleyway. My head whipped around as I blew right past it. I cursed and slammed on my breaks as my truck came to a halt in the middle of the busiest road in Georgetown.
I threw it into reverse before Jackson’s voice rippled through my ear.
“I saw what happened. Keep going,” Jackson said.
“What?”
“Keep fucking driving, Tee. I’ll get you to them. Just go and turn when I tell you.”
I threw the car back into drive and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. I swerved around town, taking rights and lefts every time Jackson fed them to me. It made me sick that I couldn't see that truck. It made me frustrated that I’d let some big ass vehicle get the best of me. I placed Jackson on speakerphone so I could use both hands to control the massive vehicle I had in my own grasp, then I turned my full attention to the road.
I wasn't going to let this man get away with whatever the hell he was doing.
“You’re very quiet, Jackson. What the fuck am I doing?” I asked.
“Keep going straight. I’m looking up something.”
“Where the hell’s that truck, Jackson?”
“Driving parallel to you right now. Would you just fucking-... take your next right!”
My tires screamed for mercy against the asphalt as I careened my truck down a one-way street. I honked my horn, trying to dodge as many cars and pedestrians as I could. I looked straight ahead for that truck, expecting it to cross paths with me as it zoomed through town.
But all I saw were the scared faces of parents shielding their children from the onslaught of my vehicle.
“Left, Tee. Left. Now, Tristan!”
I swerved my truck in the opposite direction as my phone went tumbling to the other side of my truck. I reached for it as I straightened out the wheel, pressing down on the gas to give my engine some juice. It really burned my blood that I couldn't see this damn vehicle. I’d left on his heels and now I was at least a mile and a half behind the son of a bitch.
But before I could sit myself up straight after grabbing my phone, Jackson fed me the last piece of the puzzle.
“Okay. Michael Deacon, age fifty two. Has worked for the Georgetown Police Department for twenty one years and graduated from East View High School.”
“Why the fuck do I need to know that, Jackson?”
“Because that’s where Darnell graduated from. Same year, in fact. And you’ll never guess what Officer Deacon’s address is.”
“That’s the connection we nee-”
“Left up ahead,” Jackson said.
I tore my car down an alleyway and crashed into plastic trash bins. Garbage covered my windshield, so I kicked on my wipers. I tucked my cell phone between my thighs with the speaker pointing up as I raged through town, watching as the old shops and the busy streets gave way to community homes and yards full of trees.
“Another right, then keep on straight. And yes, that’s the connection we needed, Tee. I’m forwarding all of it to the Georgetown Police Department. But I’m pursuing one more hunch. If it’s correct, then I know where our smoking gun is..”
“Do we not have it already?” I asked.
“We have highly circumstantial evidence against Officer Deacon. We’re good on Darnell, but we need something else for him. Something that directly links the two other than a shared address and high school history. So give me some space and let me do what I do best. But if Darnell couldn’t find anything at the county courthouse on his son and he doesn't have a job, then there’s a good chance that this Michael Deacon guy had another way he could help.”
“Yeah. Help. Am I supposed to be turning anywhere soon?” I asked.
“Um… take your second left. That road will take you around a steep bend and dump you onto a private road they’re speeding down now,” he said.
I heard him typing away furiously in the background as I slowly found myself buried in trees. Darnell was taking this boy to the woods. What the hell was he doing? Did he have some sort of property out there? It was hard for me to imagine that a father would want to kill his child. Especially since it seemed like his end goal was to get his son fro
m Isabelle. Not take him out.
“Yep. My hunch was correct,” Jackson said. “I pulled Deacon’s bank statements, and there are multiple charges to websites that contain private information of citizens. You know, those ‘pay this fee and get all this information on this one person’ websites?”
“You mean the information on those is legitimate?” I asked.
“Hell yeah, they are. They’ve been a legal issue for years. Do you not know how the internet works?”
“Not the time for jokes, Jackson. Where the hell am I supposed to be going?”
“Straight. When you dead end into that private road, take a left.”
“I want to be behind them.”
“You are behind them.”
“Not like that, asshole. I want to see that truck,” I said.
“No, you don’t. Because you’ll run that asshole off the road and risk that boy’s life.”
“I’d never hurt DeShawn.”
“Well, I know you’re thinking about it. I’ve known you too long to not know. So we might as well avoid the temptation altogether,” he said. “Let me know when you’re on the private road.”
My tires burned against the gravel road as I whipped a sharp left-hand turn after the bend in the road.
“You said there were multiple charges to his bank account?” I asked.
“There are. I’m assuming he wasn’t just looking up his son’s information, but Isabelle’s as well. It’s three different sights with two different charges. That’ll be enough to rouse suspicion and get a subpoena issued to go through his stuff and study his electronic purchases further. ”
“I want you to do me a favor,” I said as I pressed my gas pedal down to the floor.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to patch someone in from the police department so we can all talk. Have you been sending this information to anyone in particular?”
“Yep. There’s a very nice lady working the front desk right now. Poor woman has stopped emailing with me since this all start. I’ll have her patched in shortly.”
Gravel spit from the treads of my tires as the gravel gave way to a shoddy excuse of a cement job. I knew I was well outside of the town limits, but I had no idea where I was. Every once in a while I caught a glimpse of rubber tire tracks that looked as if they had been swerving. I rolled down my window and sniffed the air, taking in the slight twinge of burnt rubber.
I was on the right track, but further behind than I wanted to do.
“Georgetown Police Department, how can-”
“I don’t have time to do formalities,” I said as the woman’s voice poured through my speaker.
“Hello, Officer Lopez. It’s Jackson Warrington. Your friendly neighborhood CIA agent.”
“Mr. Warrington. I’ve been getting your information. I’m in the process of looping in other officers in the area,” she said.
“Thank you for your prompt response,” I said. “I want you to know that I’m actively pursuing the truck that has the boy in question.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Tristan Overcash. Retired CIA agent. I’m the neighbor across the street from Isabelle and her sons,” I said.
“Where are you now?” she asked.
“Southbound on a private road that parallels Main Street. I have a theory that he’s headed for the woods,” Jackson said.
“I’m familiar with those woods. Mr. Overcash, did you go past a series of houses before the road became gravel?” she asked.
“I didn’t quite take that route, but yes. I’m on that same road,” I said.
“That private road becomes dirt eventually before dead ending into a cleared patch of forest that becomes the start of four separate nature trails,” she said. “Do you have the truck in sight by any chance?”
“I don’t,” I said. “But if you give me a couple of minutes, I will.”
I pressed my foot down onto the gas and revved my engine as high as it would go.
“I haven’t had them on camera for the past couple of minutes, so they’re out past city limits,” Jackson said.
“I’ve got another office responding to the emergency phone call that originated from 210 Everacre Rd. in Georgetown about a kidnapping,” she said.
“That’s Isabelle’s place,” I said. “Why do you have another officer responding?”
“Because Officer Deacon was the first one on duty to radio in that he was headed to the house,” she said. “And if the information you’ve sent me is accurate, then she’s in trouble.”
“How far out is Officer Deacon compared to the other officer?” I asked.
“Deacon’s less than a minute out and the other officer is six minutes out,” she said.
Anger unlike anything I’d ever experienced penetrated the marrow of my bones. I didn’t know what the hell this man’s plan was, but the fact that I’d been separated from Isabelle to pursue one son while her and Dom were in danger made me bloodthirsty. I didn’t know if taking DeShawn was a diversion or the end game action. I didn’t know if this Deacon fucker was going to hurt Isabelle or take her and Dom as well. What I did know was that I saw the break in the paved road and the thick forest that covered the outskirts of Georgetown.
“I don’t have you on a camera anymore, Tee,” Jackson said.
“Where are you, Mr. Overcash?” Officer Lopez asked.
“In the woods,” I said as my hand gripped the steering wheel.
I was in the damn woods while Isabelle and Dom were in trouble at home.
Fuck.
Isabelle
“Officer Deacon, thank you so much for coming.”
“Are you guys going to find my brother?” Dom asked.
I held my son at my side as I let the officer in through our broken front door. Part of me was upset that he was the responding officer again, but part of me was glad. I knew he didn’t believe me the first time, so he would get to experience first-hand what his negligence had resulted in. My arm wrapped around my son and I held him close, feeling him dip his forehead down to the top of mine.
“Did either of you witness what happened?” the officer asked.
“I did,” Dom said. “I was in my room when I heard DeShawn yell across the hallway. I got out of bed and stumbled into the hallway just as his father pulled him around the corner.”
“His father,” the officer asked. “Did you get a good enough look to describe him to me?”
“Darnell Winston has my son,” I said. “I’ve got a note found in my mailbox to prove it’s him.”
“May I see it?” the officer asked.
I reached for the kitchen cabinet next to me as my arm slipped from Dom. He was trembling, and my heart ached for my little boy. I pulled the crumbled note out and handed it off to the man, who took it from me and started scanning it.
“Anyone could’ve written this note, Miss Carpenter.”
“Why in the world are you fighting me every step of the way?” I asked. “My son has been kidnapped by his father who was just released from jail!”
“Then calm down and let your son continue his story,” he said.
I wanted to clock his jaw with my fist.
“I ran out into the kitchen and saw DeShawn trying to get away,” Dom said. “DeShawn punched him, but it didn’t work. It was all such a blur, but I know what I saw. The man had really dark skin. Like DeShawn’s. Bald. Dark brown eyes that looked almost bloodshot. Taller than DeShawn, so maybe six-four or six-five? He had to duck to get underneath the front door and outside.”
“That’s Darnell Winston,” I said. “That’s him, to a tee. That man came for my son and you should’ve listened the first time you came out here to investigate. Now, DeShawn’s in danger and you’re standing here still questioning me!”
“It was him. I know it was,” Dom said. “Please, you have to find my brother.”
“We’ll do everything we can to get him back safely,” the officer said.
“In the meantime,
what else can we do?” I asked.
In a flash, the officer’s face changed. It morphed from this stomach-rolling apathy into a sort of disgust. His eyes dropped down my body before panning over to Dom’s face, and I knew then and there something was wrong. I stepped in front of my son as his hands steadied themselves on my shoulders, putting a barrier between whoever the hell that man was and the only other son I had the power to protect.
“You’ve done enough,” Officer Deacon said.
“Then take what we’ve told you and go find my son,” I said.
“That boy isn’t your son.”
“What?” I asked.
“That boy isn’t your son,” the officer said. “You took a small child away from his family. Usurped any control anyone else had thinking you could do better than any of us could with that boy. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Mom? What’s he talking about?” Dom asked.
“What I’m talking about, boy, is the real kidnapper in this scenario,” the officer said. “It’s your mother. Not Darnell.”
“My mother isn’t a kidnapper,” Dom said. “She saved DeShawn. His father beat the hell out of him-”
“Dom.”
“No, Mom. Not this time. That man beat the hell out of his son. He was over here all the time begging for food and asking to borrow my clothes because his had holes in them. I shared my lunch with him every day of the week because he never had money to buy food. He didn’t have any food at home to bring to school. My mother was raising him even before she adopted him!”
I watched the officer reach for his gun and I backed myself into Dom. All the way to the opening of the living room as he approached us. He leveled his gun at my head as my hands began to tremble and my mind began to swirl. Who the hell was this man? Why did he consider himself DeShawn’s family? Was there something the adoption agency overlooked?
Did I take that boy away from someone who had a right to raise him?
“Tell your son to mind his manners when he’s in the presence of an elder,” Officer Deacon said.
“Put that gun away and I just might,” I said.
“You changed that boy’s last name to match yours. Just to cover up what you did. What self-respecting woman who calls herself a mother would do that to someone else’s child? What if someone took your boy away from you and changed his last name to match theirs?”