Fatal Decision

by John Greenwood

  "Just tell me what you want. Damn it. Why are you doing this?"

  "You'll find out in due time. Just keep on doing what I say. Did you notice that little clue I left you in the surveillance video? I thought you would enjoy that."

  "Let me talk to him to make sure he is okay."

  "I can ensure you your property is fine in my possession. As long as you follow the rules it will not be damaged. You remember our little chat yesterday?" I stop at a red light.

  "How do I even know you really have him?"

  "You enjoyed the video and I'm sure and the surprise in your back seat. I've got another job for you today, so get ready."

  I step on the gas pedal as soon as the light changes. There's no one behind me as far as I can tell. "Just tell me why you are doing this and when will I get him back?"

  "Let's just call this a little business transaction and to your second question, you are almost done with your side just a few more things and you'll get back what is yours. I'll be in touch."

  "Wait…wait." I yell into the phone hearing nothing but silence. Once again the call is erased from the call log. I pick up Tommy's red hat and clutch it in my hand as I drive by the bank I went to yesterday and turn towards the ball field again. I'm not sure why I'm going back again, but it just feels like the right place to go. I sit on the same row of bleachers and stare out at the field trying to imagine myself coaching and Tommy playing. The kids are back in school, so the field is empty. I'm sure the kidnapper is out there somewhere, but I really don’t care if he's watching me anymore. I end up just sitting there for the next several hours thinking about everything that has happened the last few days and what I should do next. My phone doesn’t ring, so maybe he isn’t watching me. I'm kind of hoping he will call even though I think he's just playing games with me. I believe him that he will hold up his end of the bargain though I’m not really sure why. I think about all the movies I have seen and how the police say never negotiate with a hostage taker, but I wonder if they would act differently if it we're their own kid as the hostage. I don’t know what I'm going to tell Michelle. She deserves to know what is going on, but I’m scared she might try and tell the police and then we'll lose Tommy forever. I decide not to take that chance and just keep this to myself. I'm not sure it's the best decision, but it seems like I don’t really have any choice. How does he have access to everything I am doing? He must be some kind of computer genius, especially with the fake driver's license and everything else. I figure maybe I should use my technology know-how and try and figure it out. It seems like a better choice than waiting for his phone call and then dropping money off at the bank. I quickly get an idea and access my bank's customer website to check our account. It shows our balance as normal again. There is no sign of the one and a half million dollars. I keep clicking and see that it was transferred two minutes after I deposited it to another account that I am not familiar with. I can’t figure out what that means except that I was used to somehow illegally transfer money to and from my account. I slide the phone back in my pocket and head back to the Tahoe. I carefully check all the seats and there are no new surprises this time. I start it up and head back towards my house. I pull down our street and things look as though they are coming back to normal. There is only one news van parked in front of our house now. It's the same station that Noreen works on. I guess they are trying to keep an exclusive to us in case something breaks. The crowds of searchers have disappeared, probably had to return to life and work. I wish we could. The police cars are still parked along our curb and in the driveway. I squeeze by two unmarked cruisers and pull into our open garage. The door shuts noisily behind me. I reach for the door when my phone starts ringing again. It's the same number marked as private.

  "Why hello again Sheldon, did you have a nice time at the park again?" I look up at the door to the house again and see no one coming.

  "What's it matter to you?"

  "Such hostility again, one day we need to talk about that." I squeeze the phone close to my ear. "I've got your next job Sheldon."

  "What? What is it you want me to do? And when will I get Tommy back?"

  "Very soon Sheldon…very soon." I flip the keys in my hand. "Here's what I need you to do for me; and I promise I will make it worth your while."

  "What's that mean?"

  "It means, depending on how you do I may let you communicate with your property that I have acquired."

  "All right, tell me what I need to do." I can’t believe I'm agreeing this. I know I'm going against everything I believe in.

  "Very simple task Sheldon, tonight I need you to go to an office and get me a file."

  "What are you talking about?" I squeeze the phone some more.

  "I'll provide you with everything you need. You just need to go there grab the file and leave it where I tell you and I promise you can communicate with your property."

  "First of all he's my son, not property so stop saying that and second of all, you’re crazy I'm not going to some office tonight to get you a file."

  "As you wish then Sheldon, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. I will return your property as promised. I just can't guarantee it will be in one piece." I look at my face in the mirror and see the anger burning through my veins.

  "Okay. How do I do it? I'm still going to kill you when this is done."

  "I will send you an email with your directions in a few hours. You will just need to make a short drive and enter the office, get the file and you're done. Very simple, wouldn't you agree?"

  "When will I talk to Tommy?" I can feel the sweat trickling down my forehead. I wonder what Michelle is thinking with me still in the garage.

  "As soon as you complete this task, a communication link will be set up. Have I broken a promise yet?" I don't answer. "Look for my directions in a few hours Sheldon." Once again I hear the silence and know he is gone. I don't even check the call log this time. I slowly exit the Tahoe and open the door entering the living room. Michelle is seated on the couch and the detectives are seated in nearby chairs. They all turn their heads as I approach. Michelle jumps up and hugs me. Both Stanton and Adams approach as well.

  "Where have you been Sheldon?" I look closely at the three of them. Their eyes are all focused on me. I wipe the perspiration off my forehead.

  "Same place as yesterday… the ball field again."

  "We've been trying to call you all day." I see Adams looking at me suspiciously. I am really starting to dislike this guy. "Why did you have your phone off Mr. Smith? What if someone tried to call?"

  I take my phone out of my pocket and note the full signal strength. "It's been on all day."

  "We got a hit on the vehicle while you were gone." I feel my breath jump out of my lungs.

  "Where?" I look directly at Stanton. I can feel Adam’s eyes boring into mine.

  "About two miles from here, it was parked in front of a house." He explains.

  "Did you find anything?"

  "If you had your phone on you would know." Adams quickly snaps.

  "Take it easy Jerry." Stanton says. I immediately wonder if they're playing some kind of game, but I dismiss Stanton's heed as genuine.

  "It was clean, except for this." I watch Stanton reach onto the end table and pick up a small carved wooden model car. "Do you recognize this?" I reach out and grab it.

  "Yes, this is a car I made when I was a kid." I rub my fingers along the hood. I made this when I was in high school as a project. I actually won an award for the design. It is one of my prize possessions.

  "Now look at this." I look at the photograph Adams is holding and see my car in the hands of the kidnapper. "Why didn’t you say something before when you saw this? And why would he have this?"

  I don't answer. I just look down at the car. It looks the same as it did when I made it. I try and clean it up at least once a year and it always stays on my dresser.

  "How did he get this Mr. Smith?" Stanton asks. He takes the car out of my hands.

>   "I don’t know."

  "Would Tommy ever take it?"

  "No…never." Michelle quickly answers. '"So you’re saying this guy has been in our house?" I see fear overtake her face.

  "Possibly, unless Mr. Smith knows something about it." They both look in my direction.

  "I have no idea."

  "I wish you had said something when you saw the photo. Is that why you reacted the way you did when you saw it?"

  "No, I reacted because I saw the guy who took my son. And I didn't notice the car." I look down at the car again.

  "I find that hard to believe." Adams responds.

  "How about the name Douglas Sorenson, does that mean anything to you?" Stanton asks. He sets the car back on the table.

  I shake my head. "No, should it?"

  "Not necessarily, that was the house the car was parked in front of and this." He holds up a small piece of paper. "This was glued to the bottom of the car." He points at the model. I read the name on the paper. It says Douglas Sorenson and has an address written below it.

  Chapter 6

  Michelle and I head upstairs leaving the officers down below. We slowly walk by Tommy's room instinctively looking in to see if he is there. I keep expecting to see him lying there sound asleep, but it's empty.

  "Why don’t you try and get some sleep. I'll stay up in case anyone needs us."

  "Do you really think someone is going to call? Didn't they say twenty-four hours?" I don’t respond. I’m thinking about seeing Tommy in the video again. "Sheldon…Sheldon. Are you sure you're okay?"

  I want to tell her the truth, but for some reason I can't. I just don’t want to take a chance and jeopardize Tommy. "No Michelle. I'm not fine. I can't take this not having him here." She pulls me close and we sit down on the bed.

  "I think we will get him back. I really believe that. It’s what keeps me going. Please don’t worry about the detectives. They're just doing their jobs. They know we don’t know anything right Sheldon, we don’t do we?"

  I shake my head. "Of course not, weird about taking my model car though."

  "I can’t figure that out. I hate knowing someone was in our house. I guess he took it just to taunt us or something."

  "I don't know what he's doing. I hate this Michelle.” I feel the tears begin to run down my cheeks. Michelle wipes them off with her hand and I do the same for her. We remain that way for a few hours until I suddenly awake to my iPhone vibrating in my pocket. I look at Michelle; she is sound asleep on the bed. I slowly get up and click the email. It's from the same sender again. It reads as follows: ‘Hello Sheldon. Hope you had a nice evening. I need you to go to 4884 Birchwood Avenue - Suite 500. Once you get in you will go to the third office on the right and look in the second drawer of the taller file cabinet and get me file #2399. It should be located in the back. The key and pass code are already in your glove box. Your reward will be worth your efforts.’

  I quickly write down the address on a piece of paper on my dresser and click "end" on the iPhone knowing the message will immediately disappear. I can’t imagine what I am getting into this time. I am breaking and entering into a locked office after hours. I guess I'm not technically breaking in since I have a key and a pass code but it is trespassing at the least. For a minute, I wonder if it is a trap and I will set off an alarm, but I put all that aside as I walk by Tommy's room again. I notice the bright digital numbers on his clock saying 10:30 PM. I can't believe I'm doing this. I don’t know how I’m going to explain to Adams that I’m going out this late. Luckily, when I go down neither detective appears to be here, only two officers who I haven’t seen before. I walk directly to the garage door when the short one with closely cropped blond hair calls out to me.

  "Mr. Smith. I'm supposed to report any comings and goings by you. Can you tell me where you're going?" He is a younger looking officer, probably right out of the academy.

  "I'm going to get something to eat. Is that okay?" I reach and grab the door handle.

  "Where?" He has a pen and pad in his hand.

  "I don’t know. I’ll see what is open at this time of night. In case you haven’t realized, I haven’t eaten a meal in days. Is this really necessary?"

  "It's protocol Sir."

  "Thank you. I'll call in when I find a place." I tap my phone in my pocket. The young officer quickly looks away." Good night." I reach the door and step into the garage. I can already feel that the temperature has dropped. I get into the Tahoe and immediately open the glove box. Sure enough there is a key and a small piece of paper with a typed number. How does he get in here without being seen? I shake my head and turn the ignition and back out of the driveway. I turn up our street and make a few rights and lefts on side streets. After about ten minutes, I’m convinced no one is behind me. I head towards Birchwood Ave. I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but I have Tommy's hat in my lap. I look down at it and keep driving. I pull onto Birchwood. It’s a busy commercial thorough way. I check the numbers on the buildings and a few minutes later I pull into an office building. It's one of those upscale brick professional buildings that usually house lawyers, accountants and doctors. I'm not sure where to park, everything looks dark. I slowly pull around to the back and leave the Tahoe in a spot closest to the woods. I can’t see any other buildings on either side, despite knowing they’re nearby. They have done a good job of making this place appear private even though it's on such a busy road. I palm the key and hop out of the truck. It is very quiet and the few lights above the parking area are few far in between. I'm thinking that seems odd for a professional building where most of these people probably work late hours on a regular basis. I look at my watch and remember it's almost 11:00 PM on a Friday, so they've all probably gone to their beach houses for the weekend. I creep through the parking lot and reach what looks like the back door. I stick the key in the lock and it easily turns opening into a dark lobby. The door closes behind me making a snap when it locks. I see the glowing red and green lights from the alarm system about five feet in front of me on the wall. Luckily, there was a flashlight in the glove box as well. I don’t know how he has access to everything. I wonder why he is making me do this. If he's so good at sneaking around, he should be the one stealing files late at night. I punch in the code and the red light turns off; I’m hoping that doesn’t mean the police are being called. I wait by the door for a minute just in case. Satisfied, I slowly walk down the hallway and into a large empty lobby. I head straight for the elevator. I’m happy it's working after hours. I punch in the number five button and watch the numbers light up as I travel upwards. It only takes about twenty seconds until the door dings and opens into another lobby. This one is much more spacious and plush than the one downstairs. There are three or four expensive leather sofas and chairs and mahogany furniture everywhere. I feel like I’m in my own living room. I walk towards the receptionist desk and try the door leading into the offices; it's locked as I expected. I place the key in and it opens the door, so far so good. This isn’t too bad, and it will hopefully get Tommy back. I really wish I could have told someone where I'm going at this hour though. It is really creepy here late at night, but I’m trying not to let my mind get hung up on that and just complete the mission. I served four years as an infantry officer in the Army after college, but there is a big difference between being in the middle of the woods with a platoon full of armed soldiers opposed to being in a strange office late at night without even a stick or any weapon at all. I know I'm in a law office by the name on the door. It's one of those firms with a half dozen names in the title. I didn't bother to read them. I just want to get out of here and do it soon. Despite my Army experience I am still a little nervous, but I'm not really sure what I’m most nervous about since there are so many things that could possibly happen. The police could show up at any minute or someone could attack me from the darkness around me. I try and put all that aside as I walk down the carpeted hallway. I count two doors and stop in front of the third one and try and open it up. It is
locked. I try the key and it doesn’t work. Now what do I do? I really need to get out of here soon. My pulse is knocking in my ear. I try the key again, nothing. I look around for any other way in. It's a thick wooden door with a tinted glass opening. I try and ram my shoulder into the door, it won't budge. I wonder why the guy didn’t get me a key for this. I guess he's not as thorough as he thinks he is. I keep ramming the door with my shoulder harder and harder each time, but it doesn’t move and my shoulder is starting to get sore. I feel like giving up, but there's no way I’m doing this again. I don’t want to take the chance of anything happening to Tommy so I head back to the lobby. I shine the flashlight all around. I look for any place they might keep keys; in desks, under tables, I don’t see anything. There is a small wooden chair next to the receptionist desk that I pick up. It’s pretty heavy. I know this is a mistake as soon as I do it, but I carry the chair back down to the office anyway and throw it threw the window. Glass shatters everywhere. I feel a sharp pain between my thumb and fingers and a warm substance seeping out. I grab my shirt and bundle it over my hand hopefully stopping the blood. I don't want to get any on the floor, I shine my flashlight onto my hand, and the shirt seems to be doing the job keeping the blood off the floor. I carefully reach through the broken opening and open the door. In the office there is a large desk, two expensive looking leather chairs, and on the right two file cabinets. One is smaller than the other one. I go to the correct drawer and the back, and sure enough the file is right there. I scoop up the thick folder and tuck it under my jacket and start to head for the door when I suddenly turn around remembering something I learned from watching too many police drama shows. I take my jacket and wipe off the handle on the file cabinet, the door knobs and everything else I may have come into contact with in the office. Feeling proud of my work, I pull the broken door shut with my jacket covering my hand. I take one more look around and backtrack my way crunching on broken glass through the lobby and wiping off everything I may have touched again. I'm not sure what I have done, but I start walking very quickly and make it to the elevator in a jog. I continue wiping down everything as I go. I can't believe I just did what I did, especially breaking the door, no one probably would have noticed anything if I hadn’t done that. I'm so mad I feel like kicking the wall but I don't want to do any more damage, so I head back down to the main lobby, set the alarm and continue to wipe everything off as I go. I run towards my car as fast as I can. I jump in the driver's seat, turn on the ignition and force myself to drive at a reasonable pace until I see a twenty-four hour McDonald's that I pull into. The first thing I do is examine my hand, the cut isn’t too bad, I don't think I'll need stitches or anything, but I do need to clean it off. I head inside the McDonald's and go straight to the restroom. Luckily it's empty, so I take my time cleaning my hand. I place a bunch of paper towels over it to ensure it has stopped bleeding which it appears it has. I decide to order something to eat. I get a cheeseburger and fries and find a table in the back where I can keep an eye on the Tahoe. I'm not taking any chances. As soon as I finish the burger my phone begins to ring. I don’t even have to look at the number to know it's him. I click the answer button.