by Simon Wood
“Shit.”
He didn’t have a flashlight, so he turned the Escort around to light his way. The headlights picked out the blanket some two hundred feet ahead. The duct tape had held and the body remained cocooned in the blanket. He grabbed the shovel and jogged over to it.
He decided to bury the corpse where it lay. He wasn’t about to lug it somewhere else. He just didn’t have the physical or the mental strength. This spot seemed as good as any for Redfern’s final resting place. It took him two hours to dig a grave deep enough for the body and fill the hole. With that out of the way, all he had to worry about was being found, and what to say when he was.
The watch sergeant was waiting for Sheils and Brannon when they walked into the Lebanon Police Department. He escorted them through the station’s hallways.
“Where is he?” Sheils asked.
“I’ve got him in an interview room. He’s in pretty rough shape. The Piper worked him over pretty good.”
“You bag his clothes?”
“As you asked.”
“What about this trucker who found him?” Brannon asked.
Less than two hours ago, Scott had flagged down a trucker in Waterloo, told the driver his name, and asked for a ride to the nearest police station. Scott’s release, escape, or whatever the hell had happened last night had taken the heat off Sheils. The bureau looked like a bunch of idiots after Scott’s abduction. Now the focus was still on Sheils, but no one was baying for his blood.
“He checked out. We got a statement from him and let him go.”
The sergeant opened the door to the interview room. Scott sat at the desk with a mug of coffee cupped in both hands. He was dressed in police department sweats. A Band-Aid covered a gash at his hairline, but not the much larger bruise surrounding it, which was obviously the result of a pistol-whipping.
“I thought we’d lost you last night,” Sheils said. “You want to tell us about it?”
“Sure,” Scott said.
The sergeant left the interview room, closing the door after him. Sheils and Brannon settled into the chairs opposite Scott. Brannon produced a digital recorder and pressed Record.
“Take us through what happened during the ransom drop,” Brannon said. “From where you switched cars.”
“I drove to the first stop. He called, told me to drown the ransom in the river, toss the cell, change cars, and dump the Camry in the river. I’m sorry about Agent Taggart.” Scott gripped the coffee mug so tight he was strangling it. “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t do it, he was going to hurt Sammy. He knew you guys had someone in the car with me. That’s why I didn’t want anyone riding with me.”
“We know,” Brannon said.
“Agent Taggart, is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Sheils said. “Go on.”
“I got into the Buick. There was a cell phone and map in the car. He called me on the cell and told me to drive to Oakridge. I hadn’t gotten far when this big truck took me out. At first I thought it was just bad luck that I’d been hit, until the driver jumped down from the cab wearing a ski mask. Then I knew it was the Piper.”
“Was he alone?” Sheils asked.
“Yes.”
“What then?” Brannon asked.
“I handed the money over, but he beat me and shot me up with something.” Scott yanked the neck of his sweatshirt down to reveal a puncture wound.
“I want a blood sample for analysis,” Sheils said.
“Sure.”
Sheils detected a hint of hesitation in Scott’s reply. He’d been waiting for a slip. This whole Oregon detour stank. Diverting the ransom drop here made no sense and the abduction even less. Scott shouldn’t have turned up alive. The Piper hated Scott enough to kill him. Catch and release didn’t feature, unless something else was going on.
“Okay, the Piper dopes you, what then?” Sheils asked.
“I woke up in the back of the Piper’s truck.”
“Was Sammy with you?” Brannon asked.
“No,” Scott conceded. “I don’t believe Sammy is even up here. I think this was some elaborate exercise. He wants to make us run around like idiots for his sick pleasure.”
You said it, Sheils thought. “Did he mention where he’s holding Sammy?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“So you spoke to him?” Sheils said.
Scott hesitated again, and a sudden surge of panic ignited in his eyes. The son of a bitch was holding something back from him, but what? Sheils’s prejudices said Scott was colluding with the Piper, but that wasn’t necessarily the case.
“Yes, I spoke to him in the truck.”
“Do you know where he drove you?” Brannon asked.
“No idea. He might have driven around in circles for all I know.”
“What happened to your face?” Sheils asked.
“He hit me for asking too many questions about Sammy.”
“How did you escape?”
“He beat me up pretty bad. I lost consciousness for a while, but when I came to, I wasn’t tied up.”
Sheils had expected Scott to hesitate a third time, but he didn’t. His reply came instantly, as if it were true—or rehearsed.
“You weren’t tied up?” Sheils repeated.
“Maybe he expected me to be out longer, but when I woke up, the truck was moving. I went to the door and tried it. It wasn’t locked, so I rolled it up, jumped out, and scrambled to the side of the road.”
“That was sloppy of him,” Brannon said.
“And quick-witted of you,” Sheils said.
Scott looked from Sheils to Brannon and back again. A tinge of panic nicked his expression. “I guess I got lucky. Maybe the Piper is rusty after his eight-year break.”
“When you jumped from the truck, did you catch the license plate?” Sheils asked.
Scott sighed. “No. I didn’t think.”
“Too busy saving yourself to think about what would help your son, huh?”
“Fuck you.”
“Hey, that’s enough,” Brannon said. “From both of you.”
“I’d like to speak to my wife.” Scott jumped to his feet. “Are we finished here?”
“For now,” Sheils said. Scott stormed out of the interview room.
“What do you think?” Brannon asked.
“None of this adds up. We weren’t brought up here for a ransom drop. I think Scott knows the reason. There’s something he’s not telling us.”
“Do you want to sweat him?”
“No, I want to see where he leads us. In the meantime, I want his blood tested and his clothes examined. If we find something, we might have what we need to get some truth around here.”
“You really think he’s involved in this?”
“Something’s not right. He did give us one valuable bit of information, though.”
“What’s that?”
“If the Piper is up here screwing with us, and Sammy Fleetwood is elsewhere, that means he isn’t working alone.”
“Or Sammy is already dead.”
Sheils refused to believe that. He wouldn’t have two dead kids on his conscience.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jane put the phone down, missing the cradle, the shakes getting the better of her. The last twenty-four hours had been the worst of her life. Instead of Scott calling to tell her he had Sammy and they were on their way home, Sheils had called to say the Piper had abducted Scott during the ransom drop. The Piper was tearing her world apart. Scott wasn’t the only one being punished here—she was too. When Scott had escaped, a piece of her had been returned, but it wasn’t enough. She had put on a brave face for Peter and the FBI, even Scott, but the moment she was alone, she felt the fabric of her identity unravel one thread at a time. She clutched herself to keep the remaining threads intact.
Peter picked up the handset and replaced it. He was such a quiet kid. Jane worried about him. He was keeping things from her, just like his father. But it was different with Peter. He live
d inside his head. A lot went on in there that he didn’t share. She wondered if she should take him to a shrink. Under these circumstances, it might prove to be a good thing. The kidnapping of his father and brother had to be taking its toll on him.
And what of Sammy? He was alive. She truly believed that. She had no doubt that she’d see her son again. Her only fear was how this ordeal would affect him. There would be psychological wounds. But wounds of all kinds could be healed. She’d heal him. If that meant the whole family going into therapy, then so be it. Her family would survive this. She’d see to it.
“When will Daddy be home?” Peter asked.
“Late tonight.”
“Can I stay up?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Disappointment masked his face.
“But I’ll wake you.”
Peter smiled, but it didn’t last. “When’s Sammy coming home?”
Jane was tempted to lie, but it wasn’t a time for Band-Aid answers. “I don’t know, honey.”
Her answer attracted Agent Guerra’s attention. Jane had grown to like this woman. She was smart and thoughtful, someone Jane would be friends with outside of this ordeal. Guerra stopped her work at her laptop and came over.
“Hey, Peter, I’ve got a job for you. You want it?”
“Yeah.”
She held up a menu and a pen. “I need you to get everyone’s dinner order.”
Peter snatched the menu and the pen and rushed off with it.
“He’s a great kid,” Guerra said.
“So’s his brother.” Jane realized how bitter her remark sounded, and she softened her tone. “What do you think will happen now? The Piper has his money. He doesn’t need Sammy anymore.”
“I think we’re in the homestretch now. I’m sure the Piper will be in contact to tell us where to pick him up.”
Peter came trotting back. It hadn’t taken long for him to go around to the handful of agents in the house. Sheils had left only a skeleton crew to watch over them while he carried out the money drop in Oregon. Jane liked the relative peace in the house. Even the TV crews had started losing interest. Their vigil had dwindled since Scott had left for Oregon.
Peter presented Guerra the annotated menu with everyone’s meal selections. Guerra added her own. Jane said she’d be cooking for Peter and herself, but when Peter complained, she relented and let him pick something off the menu.
Guerra rang in the order, and Peter sparkled when a burger the size of his head arrived. As Jane had expected, he didn’t come close to finishing it. It was a waste of food, but it gave him a boost. The same couldn’t be said of Jane’s salad. She only picked at it. The food couldn’t distract her. Why hadn’t they heard from the Piper? He’d been paid. He’d had his fun. Now it was time to give Sammy back.
But he didn’t call.
Around nine, Rooker called. “Just checking in. Any news?”
“They’re on their way home and should be here in a few hours.”
“That’s good. I’m sorry I haven’t made it over to you today. Duty calls and all that, but I can come by now.”
The man’s compassion after all that had happened to him left her breathless. She doubted she could be so forgiving or generous. Their families were entwined, but for all the wrong reasons.
“No, it’s okay, Charles. I don’t plan on staying up much later. I’m hoping tonight is the night I get some sleep.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to your houseguests. Are they behaving?”
Jane smiled. “Yes. They’re very tidy.”
Rooker laughed. “Good. I’ll drop by in the morning.”
Jane thanked him, said good night, and hung up.
Peter was nestled up against Guerra on the couch, asleep. Guerra was lost in a paperback, a political thriller judging by the cover, and was absently stroking his hair.
Jane got up. “I’ll relieve you of my little package.”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Guerra said.
Jane knelt in front of her sleeping son. He slept peacefully. She took comfort from this. Maybe he would come through this trauma unscathed.
“I think someone is having his first crush,” Jane said.
Guerra laughed softly. “I’m flattered.”
Peter stirred when Jane scooped him up in her arms, but didn’t wake. She carried him up to his room and put him to bed. She went to bed herself when two of the agents ended their shifts and left, leaving Guerra and Shultz, a cordial but tight-lipped agent.
Jane brought one of Sammy’s T-shirts to bed and held it to her face, needing his scent close to her. She’d been doing this since the day of his abduction, and without Scott alongside her to comfort her, she needed the T-shirt even more.
She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep until the sound of a heavy thud woke her. She sat up in bed, not sure whether the noise had occurred in her sleep or the real world. She listened to the house. The digital alarm clock hummed on the nightstand. A car raced by outside. A wind driven by the Pacific pressed against the windows. Instead of soothing her, these familiar sounds scared her more.
She listened for Guerra and Shultz but didn’t hear anything. She wanted to call out to the agents, but a sixth sense stopped her. Something wasn’t right.
She slipped from her bed and went to the door. She listened for a moment before carefully opening it. It clicked when she eased it back.
Someone gasped from behind her.
She froze. For a fractured heartbeat, she thought the person was in the room with her, but the gasp was a facsimile. The answer drove a fist into the pit of her stomach.
She turned in the direction of the baby monitor sitting on the nightstand. Peter had objected when she’d dug them out the day after Sammy’s kidnapping.
“I don’t want you worrying about calling for us,” she’d told him, but she’d gotten the baby monitors out for her. Listening to her sons’ breathing at night had always soothed her as a new mother, and she needed comforting now.
When she’d woken, she’d listened for a sound out of the ordinary, but she hadn’t listened for a familiar sound—the sound of Peter’s breathing and night mumbles. She didn’t hear his breathing now. A noise, a combination of a cry, sob, and howl, left her.
“Jane? Is that you?” a voice crackled on the baby monitor’s speaker.
She didn’t recognize the voice without its electronic disguise, but she knew who it belonged to. The Piper was in the house. Maybe he was here to return Sammy. It was a lie she would have liked to believe. The Piper didn’t return things—he took them.
“Sorry, Jane, I hoped not to wake you.”
She held her belly where she’d grown her babies.
“Please don’t cry out. I want to execute my business with the minimum of fuss. Besides, screaming won’t help you. Or Peter. I’ve given him a little something to let him sleep.”
She wasn’t going to cry. She wouldn’t give the son of a bitch the satisfaction, but she couldn’t help herself. Tears poured out.
“Come to Peter’s room, please.”
She eased back the door and stepped into the hallway. Halfway up the stairs lay Guerra, facedown and still. Jane now knew the cause of the thud that had woken her. She guessed Shultz was somewhere in the house in a similar condition.
“She’s not seriously hurt,” the Piper said from the doorway to Peter’s room. “I’m not here for that. Now, this way.”
Dressed in black with a ski mask hiding his face, he was a shadow in the night. Jane approached, and he retreated into the room, a pistol aimed at her stomach. He told her to stop when she reached the room’s threshold. Peter lay on the bed, the covers pulled back. Still in his pajamas, he was also wearing his sneakers. Jane understood and anger burned inside her.
“You’re not taking him.”
“Jane, this isn’t a negotiation. Out of respect, I wanted you to know that I’m taking your son.”
Infuriated, Jane charged at him. There was no grace or design to her attack
, just raw fury. The Piper dealt with her easily. He waited until the last second to sidestep her flailing arms and brought the butt of the pistol down on the back of her neck. The blow failed to knock her out, but it chopped her legs out from under her. Her momentum sent her crashing into Sammy’s empty bed. She bounced off the mattress and onto the floor.
The Piper moved in before she had time to recover. He yanked her hands together and hiked them up until he reached the point of dislocating her shoulder. He pressed a knee into her back, pinning her to the ground.
“Please, don’t force me to hurt you further.”
“No, you’re not taking him,” Jane moaned. “Take me, but leave him.”
“It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.”
“Why?”
“Scott. He failed me again.”
“You knew the FBI was here. We did everything right.”
“You’re not listening, Jane. The FBI, you, and the media are all doing your part. It’s Scott who fell down on the job. I gave him a simple task to do, and he screwed it up. Now, he must pay the price.”
“Not Peter.”
“Peter is the price. But all is not lost. Scott can recover from his mistake.”
“No,” Jane said, the word coming out in a protracted sob. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be happening again, but it was and she couldn’t prevent it. The rage that fueled her turned to misery and sucked the strength from her limbs.
“I’m going to let you up now.”
The Piper released her arms and removed his knee from her back. She pushed herself onto all fours.
“Please remain on your knees and don’t look behind you.”
Jane did as she was told. She felt him move in behind her, totally in her blind spot, and press something hard and cold against her neck.
She faced Peter asleep in his bed, his chest rising and falling. No doubt the Piper had choreographed her position this way so that Peter was in full view. She guessed this was supposed to frighten her, but the Piper’s plan backfired. If the sight of her sleeping son was to be her final image on his planet, then so be it. To her, there was no better sight.