Words of Conviction

by Linda J White

  “Good,” Scott said. “Who was the prior owner on this house?”

  Crow looked at his notepad. “His mother, Edith Summers.”

  “Summers?”

  “Second marriage, I guess.”

  “Any vehicles under her name?”

  “I’ll have someone check that,” Sheriff Hughes volunteered.

  “All right. We’re doing a door-to-door in this neighborhood. Crow found some motorcycle tire tracks he thinks are distinctive. So we need to check all the custom motorcycle shops, the clubs, the repair places, and see if anyone has noticed anything . . . a kid who seems out of place, new purchases, that sort of thing.” Scott sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Kenzie, you’re going to have to continue to monitor the Internet. I guess that means going back to Grable’s.”

  “Wait. You can set up in our conference room if you like,” the sheriff said. “I can get you Internet access and everything.”

  “Great. Terrific, Sam. Thank you,” Scott said.

  “I’ll even throw in a coffeepot.”

  Kenzie smiled.

  “Sheriff,” Scott said, “in a county this size, I’m thinking you pretty much know who the bad boys are.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What’s your thinking?”

  Sam Hughes rubbed his jaw. “Thing is, we’re right on the highway between Baltimore and Frederick. Every scumbag in central Maryland can pop in here easily. Our local boys, they mostly get into fights when they’re drunk and deal a few drugs. Beat up a woman now and then. But I’ll tell you what, we’ll circulate among our regulars, if you want, and see if we can shake something out of them.”

  “Good,” Scott said. “You got a motel around here? We’re going to need some rooms.”

  “Sure. Come over here. Let’s get on the radio.”

  Grayson Chambers lay bound and gagged in the trunk of his mother’s car. He could feel every bump in the road, every curve, and every turn. His head hurt, his wrists ached, and fear and anger had coalesced into a potent brew in his stomach. He wanted to throw up.

  The men who had abducted him were the kind of raw meat bullies he’d loathed since elementary school. They lived by brute force. They were cold-blooded, callous, stupid, ignorant animals. To beat them, he would have to use his wits.

  Sandy had gotten him into this. He’d suspected from the beginning she would do him in. So stupid!

  Moving around in the trunk to find a more comfortable position, Grayson began to plan, to scheme, the way he always had. How could he get the upper hand? Trouble was, he’d never been in real physical danger before. Desperately he racked his brain. What should he do?

  The car stopped suddenly and the engine cut off. Grayson heard what sounded like a garage door closing. Then a car door shut, and he heard footsteps. The trunk popped open. “C’mon, you,” Billy said, and he pulled Grayson out into the night.

  What a relief to get out of that trunk! Still, Grayson could barely stand up. His legs ached. His head hurt. He sagged against the car.

  He was in a stinky, junky garage. Billy grabbed his arm and propelled him toward an interior door and into what looked like an office. A pinup calendar hung on the wall, greasy work orders and parts catalogs lay strewn about, and a metal desk and two chairs filled the rest of the room. Billy pushed him down into one of them.

  “Now look,” the man said, roughly. “Ain’t nobody can hear you out here, understand? Nobody. I’m going to take that gag off, and then we’re gonna talk. You cooperate with us, and it’ll go fine. You don’t, you’ll wish you never met my sister.”

  No problem there, Grayson thought.

  “Billy, what are you going to do?” Sandy stood at the door of the office. Zoe was asleep in her arms.

  “Just something to help us all out, Sis. Don’t you worry about it. I’m not gonna hurt this guy.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Her voice sounded like a whine. Grayson hated that.

  “Take the kid upstairs. Go to bed. I got to talk to him,” Billy said, and he grinned as he motioned his head toward Grayson.

  The four hours of sleep Kenzie got at Scott’s insistence helped a little to restore her energy level. When her alarm woke her up at six a.m., she felt hungry.

  Scott had rented four rooms at the motel and made a simple arrangement. The desk clerk would keep the room keys behind the counter; anyone involved in the investigation who needed to sleep would show creds and be given a key to an empty room.

  Kenzie had brought her jump bag with her, so after a shower and a change of clothes, she returned her key to the clerk, found some breakfast at an all-night diner, and drove to the sheriff’s office. In the conference room, an exhausted Scott sat slouched in a chair staring at a computer screen.

  “Your turn. Go to bed,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Can’t. We don’t have a vehicle. We don’t have an ID on the men the neighbors saw. Or the redhead people saw at the house. We have no idea who was there last night, or why, or where they’ve gone.”

  “But if we did, you’d want to follow those leads. So go to bed now.”

  “Can’t.”

  “Sounds like somebody needs breakfast,” Kenzie said, and she put a Styrofoam container in front of him.

  His smile showed a little life. He opened the container. “Scrambled eggs, pancakes, butter, syrup—but where’s the veggie sausage? The granola?”

  “I decided to be easy on you. Plus, Hank’s All Nighter hasn’t heard of granola. Or veggie anything.” Kenzie smiled. She looked around. “Where’s the promised coffee?”

  “Right through that door,” Scott said, pointing.

  Kenzie got a cup for Scott and one for herself. She put the coffee in front of Scott and sat down next to him. “No other postings from Jackson423, right?” she said.

  “Right. Alicia’s been on it all night.”

  “How about the senator?”

  “So far I’ve convinced him to stay there. So far.”

  Kenzie sipped her coffee. “I’m sure he’s anxious.”

  “We should have something from the lab on those tire treads in the next few hours, I’m hoping anyway. The techs cast some footprints, too. One may match the print we found the night you were assaulted.”

  Kenzie nodded. “Of course.”

  “The sheriff’s deputies have been rousting bad boys all night, trying to get a lead. It’s amazing how many unpaid speeding tickets this county has, so deputies need to inquire about them in the middle of the night.”

  “Is he still thinking these were out-of-towners?”

  “Yes. That’s his theory.” Scott scraped his fork over the Styrofoam container, getting the last of the scrambled eggs. “Did you sleep?”

  “More or less. Why don’t you go now? Get some rest?”

  Scott glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid if I did, I wouldn’t wake up, even if you called me. I’m beat to shreds.”

  “So I’ll get the clerk or a deputy to pound on your door.”

  He thought about it for a minute, but then shrugged. “Look, I’m just going to lie down over here.”

  “On the floor?”

  “It’s carpeted. Wake me up, OK? If anything happens?”

  Five minutes later, the sound of his soft snoring told her that floor or no floor, Scott had had no problem falling asleep.

  “Look,” Grayson said, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. He shifted position in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Here’s the deal. Let me loose and I’ll pinch Zoe’s father for eight hundred thousand dollars. I’ll tell him I changed my mind. I want more than I said originally. I’ll split it with you, so you and your friends each get a hundred grand. That’s a lot of money. You can buy a lot of motorcycles for that.”

  Billy snorted. “You don’t know nothin’ about motorcycles, do you?”

  Grayson kicked himself.

  Sandy’s ugly brother kept playing with a handgun. Every time he twirled it, Grayson’s stomach got tighter
.

  “Tell me again how your plan works,” Billy said.

  “I’m posting messages on the Internet to give the senator instructions. In fact, I’ve got to post again soon, or they’ll get suspicious.”

  “Are the cops onto this Internet junk?”

  Grayson lied. “No. Not yet. It’s just me and the senator. So here’s the deal. He’s going to put money in my account, and then I’m going to release Zoe.”

  Billy shook his head. “No good. She’s seen all of us.”

  “She’s five years old!”

  “Kids can be smart. Nope, the kid’s gotta go.”

  “Go where?”

  Billy looked at him like he was an idiot.

  A cold chill swept over Grayson. This is out of control, he thought. Way out of control. He cleared his throat. “Let’s get on with this. I need to give one, maybe two more instructions to Grable. Then we’ll have the money, I’ll cut you in, and that’ll be that.”

  Billy stroked his chin. “I gotta think about this.” He yawned and stretched. “Joe!” he called.

  One of his buddies came in. He smelled like sweat and beer, and a wave of revulsion swept over Grayson. “Yeah?” Joe said.

  “Watch him,” Billy said, standing up and handing Joe the gun. “I gotta get some shut-eye.”

  28

  Maybe he dozed off and maybe he didn’t. For the rest of the night, Grayson sat tied up in the office chair growing stiff and cold and angry and frustrated. Stupid thugs. Stupid Sandy.

  When Joe fell asleep, Grayson tried twisting against the ropes binding his wrists but he could not get loose. He nearly fell off the chair trying. By the time dawn began to break, he felt exhausted and nauseous with fear.

  Around seven a.m., Billy came in the room with a plate of scrambled eggs in his hand. Seeing Joe asleep with his head on the desk, he set the plate down, eased the gun out of Joe’s open hand, and kicked his chair as hard as he could.

  “Wha . . . ?” Joe said, his head snapping up.

  Billy grabbed him and threw him onto the floor. “You stupid son of a . . . !” he said.

  Joe scrambled out of his reach. “Lay off, Billy! Come on!”

  Billy walked over and kicked him, hard.

  Grayson’s heart pounded. What now? What now?

  Billy reached down, pulled Joe to his feet, and shook him. “You had enough sleep? ’Cause we got work to do.”

  “Yeah, yeah, OK,” Joe responded, pulling away from the larger man.

  “All right, you,” Billy said, turning to Grayson. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You eat. Then we’re gonna do this . . . this Internet thing.” He put his beefy hand around Grayson’s neck and the bound man’s eyes widened. He gasped for breath. “I don’t want to feed you,” Billy said, “so I’m letting you loose. But I’m right here, understand, me and this gun, and you try anything I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Grayson swallowed hard as Billy released him. He meant what he said. The jerk would kill him in a heartbeat.

  Taking the plate of eggs, he shoveled them into his mouth. They were cold, but he was hungry. Billy sat at the desk, the gun in his hand, watching him. “We’ll have to go somewhere to get on the Internet,” Grayson said.

  Billy waved toward the grimy computer. “Nah. We got it here.”

  Nuts. Grayson had been hoping they’d have to get out. Over the course of the long night, between cursing Sandy and trying to figure out how to escape, he’d nearly given up on getting the money Grable owed him and he’d decided his best bet would be to play the victim, to implicate Billy as the mastermind of the whole plan from beginning to end. He figured he could do that. It wouldn’t be a big problem to convince a jury of his innocence, especially with his ability with words. Maybe he could even collect the twenty-five thousand dollar reward. Sure, he wouldn’t get all the money Grable owed him, but neither would he spend the rest of his life in jail. What a ridiculous waste that would be!

  Grayson finished the eggs and put the plate in the trash by Billy’s desk. “Thank you. That was good,” he lied. “Now,” he said, beginning to rise, “if I can get to the keyboard . . .”

  “Sit down!” Billy snarled, shoving him back in the seat. “Joe, tie him up again.”

  “Why?” Grayson protested. “You want me to help you or not?” he said, as Joe pulled his arms behind him. He felt the ropes being wound around his wrist again and panic rose in his chest.

  Billy pressed the button on the tower to boot up the computer. “You tell me,” he said, “what website to go to and what to say, and I’ll do the typing.”

  When Sandy woke up, Zoe lay curled up next to her, sleeping with her mouth open, drooling slightly. Sandy stroked the little girl’s hair. How had things gone so wrong? Why had her brother butted in? He always caused trouble.

  On the other hand, maybe it was karma. She was having second thoughts about going to Jamaica with Grayson, even if he had bought her a ticket. That man had a temper! Since he’d brought Zoe into their relationship, his dark side had emerged. She wondered if he were a Taurus. Or a Cancer. That would certainly explain it. How could he be so mean, not just to Zoe, but to her?

  He was certainly nothing like the suave, generous man who’d picked her up in a bar in Frederick. Nothing like the guy who had plunked seventy-five cents in a jukebox to play her favorite song—not just once, but ten times in a row. And when she’d mentioned she’d always wanted to go to a particularly expensive French restaurant, he’d taken her there.

  Gently, Sandy kissed Zoe on the head. The little kid had been clinging to her like she was her mommy. How she’d missed being a mommy. For the first time, Sandy thought about Zoe’s mother. The little kid constantly asked for her dad, but what about her mom? Did she miss her little girl? Was she worried about her? How did she get through each day not knowing where her Zoe was?

  For the very first time since she’d met Grayson, guilt began to wind itself around Sandy’s heart, like a vine strangling a tree.

  When Crow walked into the conference room at 7:45 a.m., Kenzie was on the phone with someone at Grable’s office, trying to glean suggestions in an attempt to identify the other actors now associated with this case. “A list of Chambers’s friends would be good, or exercise partners, or bar buddies . . . even other legislative aides. Anybody he could be working with.” When she hung up the phone, she exhaled with frustration.

  “No luck?” Crow asked.

  She shook her head. “Chambers had no friends, no hobbies, no church, nothing. The guy seems like a walking loner.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Crow said. He looked at his watch. “I’m going to meet a deputy in a few minutes and we’re going to start rousting the owners of motorcycle shops in the area.”

  “Not many open yet,” Kenzie suggested.

  “It’s why we’re rousting them. We have a preliminary ID on the tire tread. Somebody should remember selling a bike with those tires.” Crow looked over to where Scott lay asleep on the floor. “He’s out,” he said, nodding toward him.

  “He needed it. I’m supposed to wake him up at eight.”

  Crow stood up. “All right. I’m on the radio.” He started to leave, then turned back to her. The expression on his face said he wanted to say something, something important, or personal, or profound. But instead, he just raised his hand, lowered it, then walked away.

  As he left, Kenzie turned back to her computer screen. Minutes later, her eyes widened.

  Jackson423: The kidnappers would finalize the plan quickly. Before everybody gets there shorts in a wad. So as soon as the $$ is wired and the deposit confirmed, Joie would be let go.

  Kenzie’s chair scraped as she pushed it back. “Scott, Scott!” she said, racing over to him.

  “What?” he mumbled as he struggled to rouse himself.

  “Scott, he posted again. Jackson’s online again.”

  Scott pulled himself up to a sitting position, then lurched to his feet. “Let me see. Make sure IT is tracing it!”
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  Kenzie called the IT support staff at WRO. “OK, they’re on it,” she told Scott. “I’ve called Alicia, too, and told her we’d respond from here.” She gestured toward the computer screen. “What do you make of it?” Kenzie asked, her heart drumming.

  “You tell me. My head’s not working yet.”

  “Look at the improper use of ‘there.’ Should be t-h-e-i-r. And he’s never used dollar signs for money. Something has changed.” She tapped her lip with her finger. “Either he’s under duress and making stress mistakes, or someone else is doing this.”

  “What’s your vote?” Scott asked.

  Kenzie considered the options. “Someone else.”

  “Working alone?”

  “Without Chambers?” She tilted her head while she thought. “No, maybe with him, because he didn’t change the instructions for the payoff. Chambers still has to be in this somehow.” She hesitated. “How should I respond?”

  Scott rubbed his head. “Just a second. I need coffee so I can think.”

  He came back a few minutes later with two Styrofoam cups in his hands. He put one down in front of her.

  “I’ve checked the other websites Chambers blogged on,” Kenzie said. “There’s nothing new from him. So do you know what I’m thinking?” She turned to look at Scott. “Based on the language he’s using, I’m afraid we may be dealing with a whole new kidnapper.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m thinking somebody found out what Grayson was doing, and decided to get in on it.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s the problem. Could be anybody. The whole world has seen our press conferences.”

  Scott sat down heavily in the chair next to her. “Good grief,” he said. “This has blown wide open.”

  The two agents were quiet for a minute as they each absorbed the implications of that. Then Kenzie spoke. “Look, we have him posting again. We know a few more things than we did before. We know where they’ve been for a few days. We know there were motorcycles involved with this last move. We have a description of the car Chambers has been driving, from the neighbors. We have a description of the redhead he’s been with. And IT should be tracing this message.”