by Dan Walsh
“Okay, Colt will stay here.”
“Dad . . . c’mon. You have to let me come. He’s my little brother. I’m the one who got him lost.”
“I’m sorry, Colt. But your mom’s right. This guy knows what you look like. We can’t take the chance that he’ll see you.” He looked at Gina. “I’ll go get my keys.”
“If I can’t go,” Colt said, “can I at least go back over to Murph’s house till you get back?”
“Sure.” His father hurried down the hallway.
Colt hugged his mother, then headed out the front door. But he wasn’t going to Murph’s house. Instead, he slipped around the back of the car and quietly opened the backseat door on the driver’s side. He got in, gently closed the door, and scrunched up his body tightly behind the seat.
He wanted to be there when they found Timmy. He had to be there. It was his fault Timmy had been kidnapped in the first place. A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and close. That must be his dad. But then he heard it open and close again.
“Wait, I’m coming with you.” It was his mother’s voice.
“Who’s going to watch Colt?” his father said.
“I just left a note for Mike and Rose. They should be back from the store any minute. I told them what’s happening and asked them to keep an eye on Colt till we get back.”
59
On the thirty-minute drive to DeLand, Scott was all keyed up inside. He could tell Gina was too.
On this day, really within one hour, the two biggest obstacles to his happiness had come crashing down. That lying secretary had finally told the truth, and Gina had believed her, believed him. They hadn’t talked through the implications, but they were together again. The joy of that first kiss after being apart so long still lingered in his mind.
And his little boy was alive. They were driving to where he was right now.
But Timmy wasn’t safe, not yet. And that angered Scott. Now that they knew where Timmy was, Scott no longer felt so helpless. All week long, he’d fought off thoughts and images about Timmy whenever they surfaced. Where was he? Who had him? How was he being treated? The unknown was just too painful. But now he knew. A real man had taken his son, not some phantom. And he’d locked him in a dark storage room all by himself whenever he left the house.
Nobody treated his little boy that way.
He looked over at Gina; her eyes were staring out the side window, full of fear and dread over what might happen next. The things this man had put her through this past week, had put them all through. No one deserved that. And no one should get away with that.
It was time to end this. Time to take back what this man had stolen from them.
He pulled into his parents’ driveway on Clara Avenue and opened the car door but left it running. Without looking at Gina, he said, “I won’t be long. I know exactly where the guns are.”
So far, Colt’s plan was working. No one had seen him in the backseat. He got real nervous when they had stopped at his grandparents’ house and his dad opened the car door. He knew his dad was there to pick up one of Grandpa’s guns to bring with him to get Timmy. His father must have picked out a handgun. Colt was sure if he’d grabbed a rifle, he’d have put it in the backseat or the trunk. Either way, he would have likely spotted Colt and forced him to stay in DeLand with his grandmother.
It felt like fifteen minutes had gone by. Colt thought they must be getting close to Lake Helen now, because the car was driving slower. For most of the drive from DeLand to here, his parents hadn’t talked very much. Colt felt the car turn left.
“Scott,” his mother said, “I want to say something before we get there. Really, two things.”
“What are they?”
“First, I want to apologize for not believing you all this time about the secretary. It just looked so much like you were kissing her, and then when she said the two of you were in love, I just knew it was true. Well, I believed it was true. But she was lying all this time. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Colt’s dad didn’t say anything for a moment. But now he understood why his parents had separated. She thought he loved someone else.
“Gina, I’m so glad you believe me now. But I need to apologize too. For why it was so easy for you to believe something like that, even after I told you over and over again it wasn’t true. I had a long talk with Mike about it. It’s because I neglected you for so long, you and the boys. All I cared about was my career. But things are going to be completely different from now on. I’m not just saying it. I’ve already told Mr. Finch I’m giving up the promotion.”
“I know. I heard you tell him.”
“You did? Well, I meant it. You mean more to me than any job. From now on, I’m just going to be a desk grunt. I’ll work hard when I’m at the office, but I’ll be strictly eight to five, no more climbing the corporate ladder. I’m going to be home for dinner every night. Saturdays too, unless they force me to do overtime. I’m going to be there for you, Gina. You and the boys. Throw the ball with them. Go fishing if they want. We’ll take family trips together, and not just once in a blue moon. I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” The car slowed, then turned right.
Colt loved hearing what his father just said. He didn’t hear what his mom said back, but it must’ve been something his father liked because the next thing he knew his father stopped the car, and they were both kissing. And not a little bit. A long, mushy kiss like they did in the movies. The kind he and Timmy would always look away from and act disgusted by. Colt never let Timmy know, but lately he was starting to peek at the end of those kiss scenes. He wanted to peek at his parents right now.
“Scott, we should get going, we’re at a stop sign.”
Were they going to kiss some more?
“You know,” his father said, “after today, Timmy’s going to need his bed back.”
“I know.”
“That means I’ve got no place to sleep. Well, there’s that place I’ve been renting.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said. “I’ve got a room down the end of the hall.”
“You do?”
“But it’s much more expensive than that place you’ve been renting.”
“I don’t care what it costs, Gina. I’ll pay any price.” He kissed her once more, a fast one. “Let’s go get our little boy.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” his mom said, “of the second thing I wanted to say.” A car horn blared behind them.
“Sorry,” his father yelled and poured on the gas. The car lurched forward.
“Ow,” Colt said as the jolt banged him hard against the backseat.
“What the . . . ?” his dad said.
“Colt, is that you?” His mother was leaning over the front seat.
Colt sat up. No sense hiding anymore. “It’s me. I had to come. I’m the reason we’re here trying to steal Timmy back from that man. It’s all my fault.”
“Look at me, Colt.”
Colt looked up at his father’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“It is not your fault, what happened here. If anything, it’s mine. If I had been treating you guys and your mom the way I was supposed to, none of this would have happened. Now, listen, this is Lake Helen, where we’re driving through now. We’re going to be at the house in a few minutes. I need you to stay out of sight. I have no idea what we’re going to face once we get there.”
“Okay.”
“And Gina?”
“What?”
“A minute ago you said you had a second thing to say.”
“Oh, right. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid when we get there. By stupid, I mean brave. Vic and Nate should be here soon. Please let them handle this.”
60
Now look at what they made him do.
The groceries had spilled all over the front seat of his truck. Some items fell out of the bags and rolled onto the floor. And look, August thought, they weren’t even teenag
ers. Old enough to have a kid in the backseat. He had just pulled up to the stop sign on his way home, to find a car all but parked there with a couple making out in the front seat. He had to blow his horn to get them to break it up.
What was the world coming to? Maybe it needed blowing up.
August drove through the intersection and pulled off to the side of the road to clean up the mess. That was when he noticed something. He had forgotten to buy milk. Dang, now he’d have to go back to the store just for that. Wasn’t only for the boy’s cereal; he needed it for his coffee too. A few months ago, the milkman had stopped coming out to the houses by the lake. He still wasn’t in the habit of buying his dairy at the supermarket.
After getting things sorted out, he turned the truck around and headed back the way he came.
Colt’s father had followed the directions Etta Mae had given him through Lake Helen and out to the property by the lake. He’d driven extra slow. Didn’t want to take a chance of getting a speeding ticket. Colt had never seen such a small town before. Barely even seemed big enough to be called a town.
As they pulled into the dirt driveway, his mom said she agreed with Mamie Lee that a full-fledged miracle was underway. If God hadn’t set things up to bring Etta Mae out here the way he did, no one would’ve ever thought to look here. They’d have lost Timmy for good.
“Is that the house?” Colt asked, pointing to the house next door. “The green one?”
“I think it is,” his father said. “And that room in the back there, that must be where Timmy is right now.”
“I don’t see the man’s truck anywhere,” his mom said.
“Me either.” They stopped the car, turned off the ignition, and got out.
It was eerie and strange for Colt. The whole thing was, but especially seeing a pistol in his father’s hand.
“I’ve got to do something,” his father said. “I can’t just leave Timmy sitting in that dark room like this. He’s been in there over two hours already.”
“What are you going to do?” his mom said.
“I don’t know. But I want to talk to him at least, let him know we’re here to get him out, so he won’t be so afraid.”
“But what if the guy comes back?” Colt said.
“Maybe he will. But he’ll be driving in from the front if he does get home. And I’ll be way in the back where Timmy is. He won’t see me. I’ll wait till I hear him go in the front door, then I’ll run back here and wait for the FBI to arrive. You guys go inside, meet with Etta Mae and the owner of this house, tell them what I’m doing.”
“But what if you don’t hear his pickup truck when he comes home?” Colt’s mom said.
“I’m sure I’ll hear it. Most trucks are pretty noisy. But even if I don’t, I’ve got a gun. It’s been awhile, but I’m pretty good with it. Now you two go inside. I won’t be long.”
Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the grace of God, but Scott didn’t feel an ounce of fear as he approached the house. If anything, he felt bold as a lion. He walked straight to the back porch and noticed that the right side had been enclosed to form a storage room.
His little boy was in there. “Thank you, Lord, for bringing me here,” he whispered. “For helping us find Timmy.”
He climbed the steps and went inside the porch, noticed right off the padlock and chain around the door. Putting his ear to the door, he listened a few moments. He didn’t hear a sound. “Timmy, are you in there? It’s Dad.” Still no reply. Scott knocked on the door a few times and repeated the same words.
Finally, that wonderful voice.
“Dad? Is that really you?”
Scott’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m here, son. We’re here to get you out.”
“It’s so dark in here. I can’t see anything.”
“I know, Timmy. But you’re going to be okay. I’m not leaving here without you.”
“Can’t you get me out now?”
Scott thought about it. The only thing he could do was shoot the lock. They did that all the time in the movies. In the movies, it always worked. But he had no idea where the bullet would go in real life. He couldn’t take a chance of it hurting Timmy. “I can’t right now, Timmy. I can’t break the lock. But the FBI will be here any minute. I’m sure they’ll know how we can get this door open.”
Then Scott remembered something. On his way over here, he’d run past a pile of cut logs and an axe leaning up against a tree. “I’m going to try something, Timmy. I’m going to go but just for a moment. To get an axe. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay. Is that man who took me here now?”
“No, he’s still gone. Do you know where he went?”
“He said he was going to a few stores and he’d be gone awhile. He’s very mean, Daddy. He pulls me around and hurts my arm. And he calls me Bobby, even though I told him my name. And he keeps putting me in this place.” Timmy began to cry. “Please get me out.”
“I will, son. Let me see if getting that axe will help.”
Colt had to do something. Right now. The man was coming back.
He and his mom, along with Etta Mae and a woman with binoculars who said her name was Josephine, had all been looking out the dining room windows at the house next door. Colt had watched his dad run to the back porch and go inside. Then he came back out and headed this way. He picked up an axe and had just now gone back into the porch with it.
“He’s probably gonna use it to bust that lock,” Etta Mae said.
Just then, the man who lived there drove up in his pickup truck.
“Oh my,” Josephine said. “It’s August.”
He got out of his truck and walked to the front door.
“Get out of there, Scott,” Colt’s mom said.
Everyone looked toward the back porch, but he still hadn’t come out.
“Why isn’t he getting out of there?” Josephine said.
“He must not have heard the truck drive up.”
“August is inside the house,” Josephine said. “If he sees your husband back there, I think he might kill him.”
That was all Colt needed. He ran outside, down the back steps, then as fast as he could, across the yard toward the room where Timmy was. Just as he came around the corner, he saw his father through the screen lifting the axe, his eyes fixed on that padlock. “Dad, Dad,” he whispered. “The man’s home. Didn’t you hear him drive up?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“He’s already in the living room.”
“Then we better get out of here.” He leaned up close to the door. “Timmy, we’ll be back in a few minutes when the FBI gets here.”
“Okay.”
“It won’t be long, I promise.”
Colt and his father began running down the stairs and into the backyard. The screen door slapped shut behind them. They’d forgotten not to let it slam. Even though his dad carried the axe, he ran faster than Colt. Suddenly, Colt tripped on an oak root and fell flat on his face. He looked up, saw his dad stop about fifteen feet ahead. He turned around and immediately pointed his pistol.
Colt heard a voice behind him, very close. “I wouldn’t do that.” Then, “Get up, boy.” Colt turned around and looked up into a double-barreled shotgun pointed right at his head.
61
“What are you doing on my property?”
Colt didn’t know what to say; he waited for his dad to answer. His legs began to shake.
“I asked you a question. What are you two doing on my property?” The man stepped closer, still aiming the gun at Colt.
“Lower that shotgun right now,” his father said, “or I’ll put a bullet in your forehead.”
Colt turned and saw his father pointing his pistol at the man’s head. The axe lay at his feet. Colt could see in his father’s eyes, he meant every word.
“I don’t think you’re going to do that,” the man said. “You do, and the last thing I’ll do is squeeze this trigger with this shotgun pointed right at your son. Assuming he is your bo
y.”
“He is. And so is that other little boy you’ve got locked in that room over there. The one you stole from my wife and me on Monday.”
“That ain’t your boy in there. That’s Bobby. My boy.”
“His name’s not Bobby, you old fool. I don’t know what happened to your Bobby, but you and I both know that little boy you took is not him.”
Gina felt her heart beating in her head. She couldn’t believe the scene unfolding behind the house next door. A man was holding a shotgun on Colt, and Scott was pointing a pistol at the man.
“I can’t look,” Josephine said, lowering the binoculars.
Gina heard Etta Mae praying softly. Something black caught her eye out by the road.
“The FBI. They’re here,” Etta Mae said.
Gina ran out the front door. She continued running toward the car as it pulled into the long driveway next door, waving her hands frantically, pointing toward the back of the house. “It’s happening right now, outside, behind the house.”
“What is?” Vic said through the window. Nate stopped the car, and they got out.
“The kidnapper’s got a shotgun pointed at Colt. And Scott’s got a pistol pointed at him.”
Vic and Nate instantly drew their weapons and hurried toward the back of the house. “I’ll take this side,” Nate said, pointing to the right side of the house.
Vic was running toward the left side, the side closest to Josephine’s.
“Come here, young man.”
Colt looked at the man’s eyes and at the shotgun pointing at his head. Fear moved him to obey.
“Colt,” his father said, “don’t—”
But it was too late. As soon as Colt got close enough, the man grabbed his collar and dragged him closer.
“Now, you put down your pistol, unless you want to see your boy die.”
Everything that happened in the next few moments happened so fast.
“Put down that shotgun. Now!” A different voice. Colt recognized it. Vic’s voice, spoken from the back corner of the house. “This is the FBI. My partner has another gun trained at your head from the other corner of the house. Put the gun down now.”