by Judy Candis
“Ramon? What about him?”
“Well, I thought you said the boys were supposed to stay home. Those two have gotten off somewhere and left your back door wide open.”
“Oh God!”
“Now don’t get all flustered, Cuz. They probably just went off to get something to eat and will be back shortly. I’ll swing by again and then I’ll put such a scare in those two you won’t have to worry about them acting grown for at least a few years. I’ll call you again later with an update.”
Jael didn’t hear the rest of what Rhonda was about to say as she quickly recradled the phone. Thoughts whirled around in her head, never making any clear sense. Think! Think like a policewoman first, a mother second.
Okay, so whoever had kidnapped Ramon had left through the back door, she thought. Probably came in that way too! While she was out, flirting with a man she barely knew, her child had been abducted and taken God only knew where. She could still hear Ramon’s voice saying “Momma” that one time. And Terrell was with him! Dear God!
The waiting was killing her. What did they want? Who were they? Was it a they or just a him? But there was no way one man could have wrestled both Ramon and Terrell out of the house. It had to be more than one.
“Ready to go?”
Jael jumped at the sound of the voice and turned around to see Grant standing a few feet behind her. She had forgotten all about his offer to follow her home. But she couldn’t say anything. The man had said he was watching, and she had to be careful. Her son was in the hands of a stranger and Jael didn’t have any clue why. She only knew that for now she couldn’t risk taking chances by telling Grant what was going on.
“Ah . . . I’m sorry, I had much more to gather than I expected. As a matter of fact there’s a few things I have to finish up here before I can leave, so I’ll be a while.”
“I can wait. How long?”
“Oh . . . uh . . . quite a while, I’m sure. Listen, how about I call you later tonight and give you directions. I have some pretty important stuff here that needs my immediate attention.”
“Anything I can help you with?” Grant moved closer to her desk. “If it’s about the murders, maybe we should—”
The phone rang.
Jael couldn’t move. Her eyes widened as she struggled with what to do. It rang a second time. Jael swallowed and reached for it, hoping she looked as casual as she possibly could.
“Detective Reynolds.”
“Get rid of him.”
Jael could feel Grant staring at her. Sweet Jesus, help me. Her villain was watching her at this very moment.
“Yes, I’m working on that right now. Can you hold for a second?” She placed her palm over the mouthpiece and looked up at Grant. “I’m really sorry. But this is all going to take a while. I’ll call you later. I promise.”
Grant gave her an odd look. “Okay. You have the hotel number, right?”
“Yes, yes, I have it.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He gave her another strange look, then turned around and left.
Jael waited a few seconds, took a deep breath and in a whispered voice growled into the phone, “Let me speak to my son, now!”
“You’re in no position to make demands. I’ll be making all the demands. Now listen to me and listen good. You have forty-eight hours to do three things. Do them as you’re told and your son will be returned to you unharmed.” The voice was Southern, country and familiar, Jael noted.
“What about Terrell?”
“Yeah, his little nappy-headed friend. You can have him, too. But don’t even try to screw around with me. I know your every move. Now listen to me carefully. Your first task is to get the phone book that was taken from Upton. I’ll give you until tomorrow at this time to have it in your possession. I’ll call back then, at this number.”
“I can’t. . . .”
“You will if you want to see your son alive. Remember, tomorrow.” The line went dead. And something inside Jael suddenly died too.
Chapter
30
Jael held Ramon’s gold WWJD chain, and could barely hold back the tears choking her. WWJD: What Would Jesus Do? What would Jesus do in this kind of terrifying situation? What was she supposed to do? Just pray? Oh God, give me strength. Tell me how to handle this. Why is this happening? Why let this evil touch my baby?
For the last few years she’d been able to pull up a scripture from her subconscious to fit any given situation. Suddenly her mind was a blank and all she could think of was the 23rd Psalm. Yet her soul was crying out, and the Lord did say He heard the cries of the righteous. Oh please God, hear my cry. Hear me, Lord.
She tried to think. The caller wanted the phone book the suspect had on him during booking and that was now in the evidence room. How was she to just waltz in there and tell the clerk to hand it over without a legitimate reason? Jael racked her brain to think of a way to confiscate the phone book without actually breaking a law. But there was no other way: She’d have to lie.
In the back of her mind, she knew that what she was planning was illegal. She had every right to take the phone book out of the property room, because she was an officer on the case, but it would have to be returned, and she knew that whoever had her son had no intention of returning the book. A chain of evidence procedure had to always be followed. She could get locked up for this and lose all she had worked so hard for. But she also stood to lose the most precious gift God had ever given her if she didn’t do it. Right now Jael could see no other choice for herself. God had to understand.
Jael rose from her seat. Her legs felt like lead as she moved past the gurgling water cooler and out of the glass double doors.
The property room was just on the other side of the building. As she passed the receptionist desk, another night clerk, thankfully not Tammy, barely looked up. The lobby was empty of any other officers or drag-ins. The room seemed surreal as Jael passed through the brightly lit area of wooden counters, benches and safety-related wall posters.
As she moved robotically down the hall, someone from one of the outer offices yelled a greeting to her. Jael wasn’t sure how she replied, whether by a nod, the wave of a hand or what, as she continued toward her destination. She passed through a small walk-through and opened the door marked PROPERTY ROOM.
A dim light emanated from behind the caged area a few feet from the door. No one was around. But that wasn’t unusual. The property clerk in charge would often be found in the back checking labels and re-sorting certain items.
On the counter in front of the cage was a bell. Behind the counter would be forms to fill out for the removal of any given property. In some cases a subpoena was necessary to retrieve it, but as lead detective she was allowed to remove evidence if she felt it was necessary for her investigation. She would use that privilege tonight to get the phone book in her possession.
Jael stood in the doorway staring at the cage in the heavy silence. It was now or never, because if she thought too much about what she was doing she would buckle under the weight of guilt. And if she didn’t handle this right, if any questions arose later, the property clerk would remember her. Jael took another deep breath and attempted a casual air she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to pull off.
Stepping up to the window, she slapped the bell with the palm of her hand. A gruff noise spilled from the back of the room and then a distorted shadow crossed the aisle between the lined shelves.
“Just a sec,” a deep guttural voice called out.
The shadow began to come into focus, and Jael recognized Officer Manning.
“Detective Reynolds. What can I do for you this late in the evening?” Manning was a huge guy with a head of thick reddish hair and small pinpoint green eyes. His standard gray uniform stretched taut across his chest and midsection. A well-trimmed red beard with flecks of gray covered the lower half of his face.
“Hi, Manning, sorry to take you from whatever you were doing, but I need to check on something so I can finish this darn
report before the next millennium.”
“Hey, that’s the pits. But better you than me. Whadda ya need?”
“The man arrested for the dealers’ murders earlier today . . .”
“Man, wasn’t that something? I mean what a bastard. Go figure.”
“Yeah, I’m boggled too. Probably why I can’t remember a simple thing like one of the more important numbers in his phone book.”
“Isn’t it in the report?”
“Yeah, but Sills filled that in and I’m having a hard time reading his handwriting. I hate to bother you, but could you get the phone book for me?” Jael shrugged her shoulders as if impatient about it all. “I’ll have to keep it for a while.”
“No problem—we have that scum’s personal belongings right up front. Not much, though, just his wallet, watch, phone book and the gun he tried to use to off you guys. Glad to know you all came through that one okay.”
“Thanks, Manning.”
Manning moved over to the shelf at his left and rummaged through the boxes, pulling one down. He returned to the gated window and looked through the stuff. Jael saw the deep blue worn phone book on the bottom. Her heart began racing.
“Here it is. Just need for you to fill out the form. You know the drill.”
Officer Manning pushed a sheet of paper through the slit at the bottom of the window, and Jael hoped he didn’t notice the quiver in her hands. Using the pen tied by a white string to one of the rails on the cage, Jael focused on the form, writing in the appropriate information, finally signing her name, badge number and department.
Manning took the form and briefly glanced over it before passing the phone book in a clear plastic bag through the window. Jael nearly snatched it and took off out the door, but held herself together, refraining from any desperate and betraying acts.
“Thanks again, Manning. Hope to finish up soon and get out of here.”
“Lucky you,” he called out as he replaced the lid and she began to walk away. “My shift doesn’t end until six in the morning.”
Once she was on the other side of the property room door, she shut her eyes in shame. She had lied how many times just then? One lie after the other. But this was no time to question her motives. God had to know she could think of nothing else. Nothing but her son and getting her hands on the phone book.
She was given a sudden moment of peace as another scripture flashed into her mind—2 Chronicles 18:20-21: And then the Lord said to the lying spirit, Thou shalt entice him, and thou shalt also prevail: go out, and do even so. She only hoped she wasn’t fooling herself and enticing the Lord’s anger by applying scripture for her own purpose.
Clutching the book to her chest, Jael nearly ran back to the main office and only slowed down when she reached the lobby. She casually passed the receptionist again, gave the elderly man a weak and tired smile and pushed open the glass doors. She heard the ringing of the phone before she reached her desk.
Chapter
31
Startled into near speechlessness, she suddenly understood just how carefully she was being watched.
“Now we’re at the good stuff. Let’s see how well you make this drop and then I’ll know if you can play the game called ‘Let’s Save the Two Little Nigger Boys.’ ”
Jael forced herself to listen to the timbre and quality of the voice in the event the time came to recall it later. Whoever was speaking didn’t bother to disguise his voice, meaning he had no fear of recognition. She looked around—who was watching her?
“You promised to let me speak to my son.”
“Hold your horses, Momma dear. When I have this first item in my possession, then you can talk. So far, you’ve been a good little girl. So, don’t try anything smart now. If anyone even acts like they know what’s going on you can say good-bye to Sambo here. Now, listen. Go directly to your car and start driving home. When you get to Jefferson and 42nd, toss the phone book out the window toward the new Laundromat. Keep going, don’t look back and you’d better make sure no cops are around waiting. I think you know the drill. Oh, and by the way, make sure the book doesn’t get wet. Still a little rain left from the storm, you know.”
The click of the phone was terrifying. An icy-cold wave of nauseating fear settled at the pit of her stomach.
Whatever was in the book was important, and Jael knew that someway, somehow, she had to retrieve this information for herself as well. But she’d been ordered to leave and head straight home. The drive was only about fifteen minutes. How could she copy the book and make the drop in so short a time span?
She was being watched closely, but she had to try.
Jael set her purse on the desk, the opening facing her so she could slide the phone book in. The strain of the past hour was giving her a whopper of a headache and as she looked at the gaping mouth of her purse, an idea came to her.
Making a big issue of rubbing her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut, Jael lowered her head onto the desk and dropped her right hand, the one holding the phone book, down between her knees. With her left hand still rubbing at her brow, she used her right hand to slide open the bottom drawer of her desk and pull out a small Instant Shot camera used at crime scenes. With the phone book in her hand facing out, it camouflaged the tiny camera behind it.
With eyes shut, she pretended to heave several times as if she were about to throw up. Jumping abruptly from her chair, Jael dashed for the ladies’ room, where she slammed into the nearest stall. With her back against the door, she ripped the cover off the camera, opened the phone book to the front page and quickly began snapping pictures of page after page between forced gags and coughs. Thankfully, only a few pages were filled, with numbers, names and some kind of weird symbols.
She simulated throwing up until she’d shot all the filled-in pages. Slipping both the phone book and camera into her jacket pocket, Jael pushed open the stall door, walked over to the sink and turned on the water. She splashed her face and throat with the cold liquid, then looked up into the mirror. Had anyone seen her? Oh God, was she playing with her son’s life? But handing over this obviously important piece of evidence without knowing what it contained was out of the question.
Jael slowly left the ladies’ room, holding her stomach in case anyone was watching. And who would that be? Who at the precinct was in cahoots with these terrible people? Was it someone she’d laughed with, or ordered around? For that matter, had the person given her orders? No one was above suspicion. At least no one in white skin. With that in mind she could eliminate who her enemies might not be. The Lord will make my enemies my footstool. If God be for me, who can be against me!
As she passed the reception desk, she patted her stomach for the benefit of the elderly gentleman behind it. She finally remembered seeing him a few times before when she’d stayed late to wrap up a case. She was grateful his name tag was visible.
“I guess all this madness is getting to me—stomach did a complete flip-flop.”
“Yeah, I saw you taking off like the devil was at your heels. But don’t let this case get to you, Detective Reynolds. We need you to take care of these scumbags.” The man sounded dead serious, and the look on his face seemed sincere.
“Thanks, Wells.” The devil at her heels? Oh how true that was, she thought. But the case couldn’t get to her any more than it already had. For a moment, a wave of disbelief and doubt aimed toward God swept over her as she moved back into the squad room. How could God have allowed this to happen? Hadn’t she done everything she could to show Him she was now a true and dedicated servant? Why, God, why?
Instantly, Proverbs 3:5 leaped into her mind. Trust in the Lord with your whole heart and lean not unto your own understanding.
Had she crossed that line in trying to figure things out on her own? Would God punish her for a moment of doubt? And what about all the lies she’d told in the last hour? Would God turn His back on her and leave Ramon to perish because of her sins?
Jael shook her head hard and gritted her teet
h. The adversary was throwing darts of doubt at her as fast as she tossed them off. She’d have to be on guard like never before. There was no question in her heart that she was in the clutches of a serious spiritual battle. Warfare at the highest level.
At her desk, Jael stared at the phone for a second before picking up her purse and slipping the shoulder strap over her arm. The walk out to the officers’ garage was a trek through fog amid an ominous sea of crouching demons, all posing as innocent vehicles in the dimly lit area. The click of her heels echoed throughout the garage, sounding as hollow as the pit of her stomach.
When she reached her Bronco, she slipped in the key, looked around the parking stall before opening the door, tossed in her purse and climbed inside. Adrenaline-fed blood pumped crazily through her veins as Jael turned on the ignition and let the car idle. She lowered all the windows and quickly switched off the radio, which was tuned to her gospel station, in order to hear anything that might be going on around her. Slowly she pulled out of the garage.
Glancing into her rearview mirror, she watched for anyone following and scrutinized every vehicle she passed. Not many cars were in the parking area this time of night, but the few that were she imagined them as demons waiting to pounce. When she hit the end of the ramp, bright streetlights lit up the night beneath a black and cloudless sky.
Positive no one was following her, Jael waited until she’d passed a traffic light and was in the middle of a block laced with buildings tightly pressed side by side before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone book. It felt vile in her hand, and she tossed it onto the passenger seat.
She drove for five more blocks, watching every corner, curiously analyzing every passing automobile and late-night pedestrian. Even the bum sleeping in a balled position atop an old cardboard box was a possible suspect in this cloak-and-dagger nightmare. Jael slowed down as she approached another derelict curled just beneath the underpass. He seemed not to notice or hear the sound of her vehicle. Passing, she kept her eyes zeroed in on him for any sudden movement, but he never moved, and seemed deep in his dreams, without a care in the world.