by Randy Rawls
Before I could feel too sorry for myself, the phone rang again. This time, caller ID told me it was Hammonds’ number.
“Beth, here.”
“Ms. Bowman. This is Detective Bannon. We have an email. Mr. Hammonds requested I let you know.”
“I’m on the way. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”
_____
I hit Hammonds’ house in twenty minutes and made my entry through the garage. I still wasn’t up to facing the foyer. Inside, I found Hammonds in his office with Sargent and Bannon.
“So, what does the email say?” I asked after settling into a chair.
“Give her a copy,” Hammonds snapped. “I told you she gets everything.”
“I printed a copy for her,” Sargent answered, his face red.
It was obvious the pressure was getting to Hammonds, and he was getting under Sargent’s skin. And, while I had no love, or even respect, for Sargent, I thought Hammonds was being a bit heavy-handed. Sargent might be a horse’s ass, but he was doing his job.
“Thanks, Sargent,” I said, standing and reaching for the paper before Hammonds did. If I could keep peace between the two of them, life would be easier for everyone.
Sargent handed the copy to me, then turned and left the room. His stride was angry, his heels hitting the floor with force. When he closed the door, it didn’t slam, but it had a definite slap to it.
I read aloud, “Three a.m. Instructions in center circle of soccer field at Royal Springs and Wiles.” I looked at Hammonds.
“Not much to go on, is there?” he said. “What do you think?”
I studied the message. “It’s from someone called IWantMine at Yahoo.com. I’m betting when the police track it, they’ll come up with phony identifying info. But we expected that, didn’t we?” I paused. John’s eyes had locked on the paper I held. “Looks like I have an early morning date in Coral Lakes.” I handed the paper to John and picked up my purse.
“Wait, Ms. Bowman,” Bannon said. “We need to lay out a plan. You’ll need police backup. We’ll need to get the place staked out early. Maybe we can grab someone and sweat him.”
I looked from Bannon to Hammonds. “No. This is their first contact. I’m betting they’ll have someone nearby with an open phone watching the pickup to make sure we’re playing by the rules. If they see anyone extra …” I let my voice die off, not wanting to complete the sentence. The last thing I wanted to say was they might take it out on Ashley.
“You’re not being smart,” Bannon said. “We have a chance at them.”
“This is why Mr. Hammonds hired me. You stay here in case they call or send another email. I’ll need to know.” I hesitated while taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Look. I say we play it exactly how they say. I’ll be back as fast as I can. At least, we’ll know what they want and how they want it.”
Hammonds said, “Beth … be careful. Take it as slow and easy as you need to. Whatever it takes to bring Ashley home.”
I left the room with John’s eyes boring into me. I’m not sure which they carried more of, hope or fear. And I’m not sure which my heart carried more of, fear or hope. There were only a couple of logical scenarios. I was either walking into a trap, or the instructions were there. The first was illogical, but killing Sabrina wasn’t the most logical thing they could have done either.
As soon as I stepped out of the house, I flipped open my cell phone and punched in Bob’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Bob, I have a date at the soccer field on the corner of Royal Springs Drive and Wiles Road. If you have anyone in the area, I could sure use an extra pair of eyes.”
“What’s going down?”
“They emailed and said they’ll have instructions in the center circle of the soccer field at three a.m. I’ll pick them up, then head back to Hammonds’ house. Until then, I’m going home to try to make peace with my mother. She came in today and is not happy I wasn’t there to greet her.”
Bob said, “I’ll see if anyone is close enough to the intersection to help. Be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name—Beth Careful Bowman.”
“What was that about your mother?”
I gave him the nickel version of her arrival and the reason for it. “Not only was I not home when she arrived, but she says my house is filthy and threatened to clean it.”
“Sounds like you’re caught in a lose-lose situation.”
“You nailed it. At this moment, I’m her least favorite daughter, and she has no others.”
Bob chuckled. “Don’t expect any help from me. I’d rather step between a lioness and her cub than get caught between a mother and daughter. If you run fast enough, the lioness will give up and go back to her little one. You can’t run fast enough to escape a vengeful mother.”
“Yeah, I know. My mother has been outrunning me my whole life.”
“So, what now?”
“Grocery stores. There are several between here and my house. You know, a Publix on almost every corner. Maybe our kidnapper likes to shop at night. I’ll stop in before heading home to face Mom. That’ll lend truth to my white lie. I told her I had leads to follow.”
Bob tsked me. “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. Sir Walter Scott’s famous words.”
“Yeah. His and my mother’s. It’s her mantra. I’m out of here.”
I clicked the cell closed, climbed into the car, and backed out of the driveway, heading for Publix, then home. With luck, I would spot the woman, square things with Mom, and get a couple of hours sleep. And Jiminy Cricket would land on my shoulder to provide me with guidance. Yeah, right.
Driving in the general direction of my house, I stopped at four more Publixes. No luck.
I was tired, frustrated, and nervous about going home. By now, I figured Mom would have herself worked into a real mad. If only I could stay out until she was asleep, I could avoid her until the morning.
I checked my watch again. Eleven o’clock. Bob hadn’t called so his people must have come up empty, and he must not have located a backup for me. Nothing left to do but go home and face Mom.
When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed a couple of things. The first was a red Chrysler convertible. It looked like Mom was planning a fun holiday. Or maybe she was entering her second childhood. I parked my Toyota Camry beside the Chrysler.
The second thing I noticed was the house was dark. I sighed in relief. I wouldn’t have to face the music tonight.
eleven
Not knowing where Mom was in the house, I slipped in as quietly as I once did when coming home late from a date. No lights and no noise. She slept like a cat—awake at any change in vibrations. I wanted my small travel clock, the one on my nightstand beside my clock radio. It was battery powered, therefore trustworthy when the power went off. As I passed the guestroom, I peeked in and hoped the lump in the bed was my mother. She chose that moment to snort and turn over. Yep, my mom. All was well.
After retrieving and setting the travel clock, I tiptoed back into the living room where I curled up in my recliner, hoping to cop a few Z’s. Until the alarm dinged at two a.m., I flipped back and forth. Maybe, I’m not sure, there were a few minutes of unconsciousness during that time.
_____
After wiping the sleep from my eyes, I headed out the door, into my car, and stopped at the first 7-Eleven that crossed my path. Coffee was the magic elixir needed to sharpen my mind. I was already awake—wide awake—with anticipation of what the rest of the night would bring.
My driving went on autopilot as my mind wrestled with the situation. What kind of lowlifes could murder a mother and kidnap a five-year-old? Not to mention the needless death of the maid. What did she do to incite such violence? Wrong place at the wrong time? Leave no witnesses? Disgusting.
There was little dou
bt I was rushing toward a person or, at the minimum, a note telling Hammonds what it would cost to see his daughter again. How could they put a price on the love of a parent? I wanted them, wanted them bad. Where I wanted them was in the sights of my Walther. The judicial system was too good for them.
Of course, I wasn’t naïve enough to think they were unique. I remembered some of the reprobates I pursued in Dallas while a cop. No section of the country has a monopoly on scum. But this particular pond in South Florida would be sanitized.
I took University Drive to Wiles, then turned west. Approaching Royal Springs Drive, I scanned the area. On my left was a rectangular, one-story school surrounded by small trees and bushes. The parking lot had no cars. Same with the business beside it that occupied the corner lot. The shadows were dark and deep in the full moon, but there was no obvious lurker.
I turned to the right and pulled into the parking area alongside the soccer field. One lonely streetlight illuminated the darkness, while all others were dark. Saving energy, maybe. I appreciated the city’s thrift, but wouldn’t have complained if the place looked like high noon.
It was a full-sized playing surface, at least a hundred yards long. The width was sixty to seventy yards, and I had to cross half of it. I parked so my headlights shone across the center circle, but if there was anything there, I couldn’t see it. Leaving the engine running, I slid out, careful to make sure the door did not close. I wanted it open in case I needed to make a hasty getaway. Also, the open door and the inside light might deter any bad people. Yeah, right. Folks who would strangle a maid and put two slugs into Ms. Hammonds’ back deterred by a small light? Happens every day—not.
I took the Walther from my purse, then slung the bag over my body, crosswise. I didn’t want anyone to be able to grab it and run. Bumping my chest with my wrist, I reassured myself the derringer was in place. Okay, I thought. Enough with the stalling. Let’s get it over with.
After scanning the area one more time, especially the school and the business across the street, I filled my lungs, then moved into the tough first step, holding the pistol along the seam of my jeans. I set a fast pace, staying on the edge of the beams of the headlights. I wanted to see, not cast a shadow. I couldn’t hide, but there was no point in illuminating myself. They already held all the cards except the joker. That was my role.
Approaching the center circle, I saw an envelope laying on the kickoff spot. It appeared to be plain manila, five by seven. My first thought was letter bomb, showing how paranoid I was—and how scared. I fumbled in my purse, found a pair of latex gloves, and slipped them on over my sweaty palms—with difficulty. If there was evidence, I didn’t want to ruin it.
With the padded envelope firmly between my fingers, I stepped into the darkness and did a slow pirouette, scanning the area. Nothing. I didn’t see a thing that looked human, just the quietness of the middle of the night in a city park.
My eyes kept jumping to the envelope until I finished my scrutiny of my surroundings in a herky-jerky fashion. Then I examined it in the glare of my headlights. No identifying data. No writing of any kind. A metal clasp secured it.
I hotfooted it toward my car, my head spinning in one direction, then another. I won’t say I ran, but I didn’t bruise the grass as my feet flew over it. If there were any of Bob’s people in the area, they’d have a great story to embellish for him. If there were any of the bad guys in the area, they would know they had me spooked. I didn’t care.
Once in the car, I raced out of the parking lot with no thought of my speed. My only goal was to clear the area as fast as I could. If I attracted the attention of a policeman, that was fine, too. At that point, I didn’t mind what anyone said about my running like a coward. I intended to be around to run another day.
twelve
He watched as the woman scrambled away from the center circle of the soccer field, never looking back. Now, that’s an interesting sight. We didn’t figure on a woman. Wonder who she is. Probably some lady cop in plain clothes. Shouldn’t matter though. She picked up the message, and that’s the important part. His brow furrowed as he again scanned the area, a worried expression plastering his face. She has to have someone spotting for her. Nobody would send a lone woman for something like this, even a female cop. I’ll just sit tight for a while. They’ll get tired of waiting and make a move.
He had been there for over three hours, having arrived at eleven-thirty. Their plan was for him to be in place before the police could put together a plan. That way, he’d be in position to watch the cops swarm in—if they came. He wasn’t concerned about anyone spotting him. He figured anything other than a direct flashlight in his face would never detect him. And, if they found him, no big deal. Just another homeless bum sleeping it off. They’d give him a lecture and send him on his way.
Days before, he had scouted the area and selected the location for the drop—some place in the open where the messenger would be in plain view. Over the weekend, he watched youth soccer games on the field, sitting in the bleachers with the proud parents. That gave him ample opportunity to watch his selected hiding place. No one went near it. Even the smaller children who played games among themselves stayed away. He had smiled at how smart his selection was.
He frowned as the woman’s car roared to life, and she pulled away, her wheels spinning on the blacktop. At the street, she didn’t hesitate, just charged onto Wiles Road.
Chuckling, he mumbled, “It’s a good thing we picked a time when there’s little traffic. I wouldn’t want her in an accident before Hammonds gets the word.”
He settled back onto the short, three-legged stool and scanned the area again. Time to sit quiet. I’ll give it forty-five minutes to see if anyone pops up. Ought to have that much time before there’s too much light. That broad must have someone covering her back. I can’t believe the cops would let her come alone. He stuck his legs straight out in front of him, flexing his calf muscles to stop a cramping sensation. Sure wish I’d brought a cushion. I’m stiff as a board, and my butt’s killing me.
He turned away from the field and lit a cigarette, cupping the flame to obscure it. Taking a deep drag, he swiveled on his perch, keeping one hand over the end of the glowing tip as he did a three-sixty of the area. “No way anyone can see anything in here.” He stared at the butt. “Nasty habit. Another rotten thing I learned in prison.”
Enjoying his smoke, he kept a sharp watch but saw nothing. The soccer field, parking lot, even the business and school across the street stayed quiet. Nothing moved except an occasional car passing on Wiles Road or Royal Springs Drive.
After his self-allotted forty-five minutes, he picked up his stool and edged his way out of his hidey-hole, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why she came alone, but if she didn’t, they hid too good for me to spot them. I reckon they’re gone by now, and I don’t want to be here when the sun comes up.”
thirteen
The envelope lay on the passenger seat of my car, tugging at my attention like a burning fuse. I tried to focus on the road, but couldn’t keep my eyes off the package. I was fortunate traffic was sparse, or I might have plowed into someone.
My cell phone sang its ditty, startling me. I fumbled it out of my purse and answered with a nervous, “Hello.”
“Bob here. Are you on your way back to Hammonds with the envelope?”
“Yes. Wait a minute. How did you know I found an envelope?”
“I just got off the phone with one of my people. He was covering you.”
“Where was he? I didn’t see him.” Even though my crisis was over, the knowledge that Bob had my back reassured me.
“Beth, you have to understand the homeless learn fast to be invisible, especially in the middle of the night. There are too many punks out there who think it’s good sport to beat up on someone sleeping on a park bench. No way you or anyone else would ever spot him. What’s in the envelope?”
“Yeah, probably so. Just for your info, my man saw no one in the area. Whoever left the envelope didn’t hang around to see if you picked it up. Either that or he was really good. And, before you ask, we’re very good at spotting others. It’s called survival.”
“Thanks, Bob. I should have remembered. Who was it? I’d like to thank him the next time I see him.”
“You don’t need to know. He prefers to stay in the background. Just pretend he’s any homeless person you meet. Treat them with kindness, and he’ll be happy.”
“You know I will.”
_____
Even if I had been lost and never been to Hammonds’ house before, the moment I turned onto his street his address would have been obvious. Light blazed across the yard, from the gazebo, and from each window. I pulled into the driveway, coasted close to the garage, and killed the engine.
I felt safer than I had since heading for the soccer field. It was nice to be back in the cocoon of society. I let out a deep breath, my lungs complaining like I’d held it for the past hour.
Before getting out of the car, I picked up the envelope, glad I hadn’t removed the latex gloves. Time to get it inside to Hammonds. I got out of the car and walked up the driveway.
The garage door swung upward, startling me.
Sargent stood inside, his eyes bloodshot—from lack of sleep, I assumed. His gaze locked on the package I carried. He had loosened his tie and taken off his jacket. The stubble covering his jaw was black with traces of gray, like his hair.
“Is that what they left?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Mr. Hammonds is waiting for us.”
He turned and headed into the house with me hot on his heels, hitting the garage door button as he went. If chivalry had to depend on him, its reported demise was indeed true. When we reached the hallway, he stopped and pointed. I took that to mean Hammonds was in his office. Apparently, the two of them would not exchange Christmas cards. Two Type A personalities clashing, but Sargent had to back away or risk his career.