Best Defense

by Randy Rawls

  After another quick search of the area, I offered Dabba a ride to any place she wanted to go. She’d saved my butt, so I definitely owed her that much. She refused, repeating her mantra that she’d wait for Linda’s kidnapper to return.

  Dabba disappeared into the hedge, and I limped toward my car. Loyal as could be, it sat with the headlights blazing and the motor running. After about ten steps, my foot slipped on something that didn’t belong. I shined my light down and saw a rubber fright mask in dark colors featuring oozing sores and scars. I felt like an idiot as I scooped it up and put it with the cigarette pack.

  _____

  My dash to Hammonds’ house was uneventful and, as usual, I found it lit up like a football stadium. Media trucks lined the street, but even those pests need sleep. No one bothered me as I parked in the driveway and rushed to the front door.

  It opened, and Sargent greeted me. “Did you get the delivery?” He stopped and gave me a once-over. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Yes and long story,” I said, stepping into the foyer. “Here it is. Feels like another DVD. But this could be better. Have your people do a check on this cigarette pack and mask fast. It might hold what we need—the kidnappers’ fingerprints.”

  He gave me a quizzical look, but didn’t protest. Turning down the hall, he called, “Campbell. Got another run for you. The lady needs fingerprints like yesterday.”

  Campbell took my baggie and disappeared. Sargent took the kidnappers’ envelope and disappeared. I felt like Cinderella after her ugly sisters left for the ball, hoping the contents of one of my discoveries would be my fairy godmother.

  Hammonds came around the corner. “I thought I heard you. Did you—” His voice froze as he stared. “What happened to you? You look like … Do you need a doctor?”

  “No, but a dozen aspirin would be welcomed. That and a trip to the bathroom to repair myself. From the look on your face and Sargent’s reaction, I assume I’m not ready for the pageant.”

  “Pageant? I don’t … Oh. Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll get the aspirin.”

  The frizzled hag who stared at me from the mirror explained the reactions I’d gotten—face covered with scratches and dirt, and hair that defied any finger-combing I could give it. The comb I pulled from my purse did no better. It would have to stay wild until I could shampoo and condition it. Even then, a wig might be my best bet. There was no hope for my shirt, but, with lots of soap and water, I might salvage my jeans. In fact, the new tears and stains could enhance their value.

  From the hallway, I heard, “Mr. Hammonds, Beth, I have a DVD for you.” It was Sargent’s voice, dragging me away from my image. It would have to wait. Ashley came first.

  I went into Hammonds’ office where he and Sargent hovered over the computer. Madeline, Hammonds’ sister, stood a respectful distance behind them, close enough to see the screen but far enough away not to intrude.

  The DVD was similar to the first. It contained three pictures of Ashley, ostensibly to convince us she was in good health and happy with her life. In each, she wore a different outfit but the same big smile. Had I not known the circumstances, I’d have thought she was a normal, well-adjusted child.

  Hammonds fixated on the pictures, touching the computer screen as each came up. He traced Ashley’s features and smiled, his tears flowing. Sargent sat mute at the keyboard, and I emulated him, standing to his left. It was Hammonds’ show—his daughter.

  After several moments, Hammonds took a deep breath. “Let’s see what they wrote. Maybe it contains delivery instructions. I want this over and my daughter returned.”

  I suppose I should say it contained everything we hoped for. But saying that is too difficult because of the chilling words it contained.

  Asshole Hammonds!

  As before, we have included pictures to assure you that Ashley is enjoying her time with us. If you haven’t reviewed them yet, I’m willing to wait. Take a look, then come back to me. 

  Okay, you’re back. Let’s get serious. But before we move to the more important details, let me fill you in on what will happen if you or anyone else fails to follow instructions exactly as we lay them out. If anything, accidentally or intentionally, looks funny to us, we will simply disappear, taking Ashley with us. We have already made contact with certain business associates and collected bids on her. Such a cute little girl has high value in certain markets. Of course, being blond is an additional advantage. Think about it.

  We are guessing that the police are looking over your shoulder, and the PI you employed, Elizabeth Angeline (Beth) Bowman, is reading with the hope our anger will lead us to make a mistake. It will not happen. We are invincible.

  Here are the details.

  One million dollars in each of four locations. We will service one of those. Whatever happens to the other three million holds no interest for us. If you lose it, our consciences will be clear. We may laugh some though. 

  Put the money in cardboard boxes. Neither the money nor the boxes can be new. Make sure both show the ravages of age and use. Place the cartons as dictated below, walk away, and do not return until after four p.m. two days hence. If the money is still there, you saved a million. If it’s gone, c’est la vie. 

  And please don’t make the mistake of booby-trapping any aspect of the operation. Such folly would be yours and Ashley’s misfortune.

  Drop sites.

  1. Murder on the Beach Bookstore on NE Second Avenue in Delray Beach, Florida. Place the box in the alley behind the bookstore. Make sure you put it between the dumpster and the back wall of the store.

  2. Mizner Park in Boca Raton. The amphitheater is at the north end of the complex and backs on NE Mizner Boulevard. At the rear, there is a dumpster housed in a U-shaped enclosure. Place the box on the building side of the enclosure.

  3. Across from the post office on West Atlantic beyond Route 441 in west Delray Beach. That area is filled with weeds and brush. Stand in the driveway entrance to the post office and look directly across the road. About ten yards in, you’ll find the edge of a field suitable for leaving the ransom. Use it.

  4. The last site is one you’re familiar with—the soccer field at the corner of Royal Springs and Wiles. Facing north, walk the right sideline directly into the deep hedge that separates the field from the Sawgrass Expressway. Look inside the hedge and you will find a hollowed out area, perfect for leaving a large carton.

  Have everything in place by midnight tonight. Remember, we will keep Ashley for seven days following the transfer of cash. If all has gone well, the police will find her on the street.

  Mr. Hammonds, do not ignore our warnings. Ashley is a delightful and beautiful little girl. She will bring top dollar on the international market.

  I pushed down the bile that had risen in my throat as I read. They were threatening to sell Ashley. Sell her? How? Then it hit me. White slavery. I headed for the bathroom, my stomach rolling, nausea threatening me every step of the way. How could anyone be so coldhearted? I hoped John hadn’t come to the same conclusion as I. A moment later, I kneeled beside the commode, my stomach rebelling at the evil in the message.

  _____

  After printing the demands in sufficient copies for everyone, Sargent called up MapQuest and located each site. Other than telling me where they were, there was little more I could gain from the computer. A trip to each was in order.

  I was a bit surprised the soccer field was still in play. After what transpired there a couple of hours before—the kidnapper in full retreat from Dabba’s attack—I’d have thought they’d shy away from it. Then I remembered they wrote the note before the assault.

  The other three sites were in Palm Beach County. Mizner Park was in east Boca Raton, Murder on the Beach was several miles north in the heart of Delray Beach, and the post office was as far west as you could go along Atlantic Avenue.

  The
y seemed strange locations, but as I studied them, I changed my mind and labeled them smart. They crossed police boundaries—three cities, two counties, making for potential communication problems—and far enough apart to cause me to spread my forces. As if I had any.

  The last instruction was that the cash had to be in place by midnight. That gave me just over eighteen hours to find Ashley, or John would be out up to four million dollars. More money than I could even dream of. I looked at him, wondering how anyone could accumulate so much.

  Hammonds stared at the note, nodded, then turned to Sargent. “I’ll need some manpower to help in putting the money in place.”

  twenty-seven

  While Sargent and Hammonds discussed the best way to meet the money placement demands, I limped outside for fresh air. The pressure of the night was getting to me, and the pain in my side wasn’t helping any. How Hammonds handled such pressure, I had no idea. He had crawled into his attorney shell and shut out the world. He gave me the impression that his only mission was delivering the money as ordered. Perhaps that was his secret to being a successful defense counsel. Ignore the world and concentrate on the sole objective.

  I took a deep breath and decided to rest in the gazebo for a bit. It was one of those times when I wanted to be alone, to have a few minutes without interruption, to allow my mind to free-float, to land wherever it chose.

  Naturally, it landed on the kidnapping. The logistics still baffled me. Hammonds had to get a million dollars in a used box to each of four locations. The kidnappers would hit one of the sites and pick up the ransom. Or, they’d hit all four and pick the one they wanted. Or, they’d hit all four and take all the money. Or … There were so many possibilities, all of them bad, my head threatened to spin off my shoulders.

  I stared into the eastern sky, wondering if I saw a crescent of light slipping up. Sunrise? Or the Fort Lauderdale skyline? I eased myself onto a bench in the gazebo and considered the day ahead. Unless they found a clear fingerprint on the cigarette pack and identified it, I was still without any real leads. The case was like one of those dreams where you’re pursuing something that only appears as an indistinct shape, just beyond your reach. You’re straining, attempting to run faster, attempting to catch up, but making no progress. The image stays beyond your fingertips and unidentifiable. In my situation, it was the kidnappers, and they were as undistinguishable as any nightmare I ever had.

  I couldn’t expect identification from the mask for several days, perhaps weeks. DNA takes a while to process, no matter how much you might want to speed it along, or how fast TV cops do it. No need wasting my energy on that. By the time it came in, things would be resolved—one way or the other.

  I leaned into my hands, elbows on the table. The urge to put my head down and block reality was strong. Hopelessness and helplessness threatened to overwhelm me. Maybe it would have except the front door of the house opened, and Madeline Hammonds exited.

  She paused, scanned the area, then headed toward me. I braced, not having a clue what to expect. So far, she’d been more a pain in the ass than anything else. But I couldn’t disagree with her argument that I was not qualified to find Ashley. My performance so far did not inspire confidence, even mine.

  “May I join you?” she said.

  “Of course.” What was I to say? It was her brother’s gazebo.

  “Tough night?” She settled onto the bench a few feet from me.

  “I’ve had better.”

  “One of the policemen said you were assaulted. Is it true?”

  I studied her, wondering if she had a motive behind her interest. Her attitude appeared to be genuine. “Some thug and I had a difference of opinion. Nothing serious.”

  Silence followed. I had nothing to add, and, if she did, she kept it to herself.

  After what seemed like several minutes, she said, “I love to sit here in the wee hours. It’s so restful. Makes me forget the unpleasantness in the world—at least for a few minutes. Some might say the air is hot and humid. For me, it feels good, so different from New York.” She looked at me. “I was here earlier tonight, before you arrived. I hope you don’t mind, but I said a prayer for Ashley and one for you. Half of it was answered.” She ran the back of a finger under her eye.

  It was my time to examine her, one might even say stare. I’d sized her up as a hard-boiled businesswoman and no fan of mine. Yet, here she was opening up to me. Should I be wary, or had I found an ally?

  She sighed. “I was tough on you when we first met, said some things that were out of line. Since then, I’ve watched you. I’ve watched the policemen watching you. I’ve come to the conclusion that John made the correct decision when he hired you. I might still wish he had more police presence, but you’re the right person to lead.”

  I was so shocked I almost forgot my manners. “Uh … thank you … I think. I hope your newfound confidence in me isn’t misplaced.”

  “Those messages from the kidnappers,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I can’t imagine the type of person who’d write them, much less kidnap Ashley. This is your world, isn’t it? These are the kind of people you have to associate with.” She stood and paced. “I never knew I lived such a sheltered existence. I’m ashamed to say I had no idea that such sub-human forms exist. Who are they? Where do they live? How do they face themselves in the mirror? How do they find others like themselves to associate with? Do they have friends who know what they’re doing? It’s just too incredible for me to comprehend. I’m not of this world, am I?”

  “Ms. Hammonds, you’re right. This is not your world. It’s not something the vast majority of society knows anything about. For that, we must be thankful. Moreover, although John defends these people in court, this is not his world either. I’m surprised at how well he’s coping.”

  “Yes, I’m very proud of him.” She paused. “I’d feel much better if you’d call me Maddy. Ms. Hammonds is so formal, and there’s no formal in this situation.” She sat down. “Beth, I’m sorry I was hard on you. I didn’t know how much I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine we’d get to where we are this morning. Do you really think they’ll sell Ashley?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they have any morals. That’s one of the things that keeps them on the street. The judicial system will not accept that people so totally devoid of human emotions exist—and prey on society. Instead of putting them away forever, we pat them on the back and give them a second chance.”

  She looked at me, and I could see a degree of understanding forming in her eyes.

  She said, “I feel funny asking, but I’d like to go with you today. Is that possible? I know I asked before, and you said no, but I want to do something … anything to help Ashley. I feel so worthless, just sitting and waiting. Can I go?” She held up a hand. “I promise to stay out of the way and do whatever you say.”

  Maybe I liked her better when she had me labeled as incompetent. This new Maddy was tough to pigeonhole. Did she want to accompany me to look over my shoulder, or was she sincere in her desire to help? Or was this case making me paranoid? Whichever it was, I didn’t intend to take her along. But how to weasel out without costing me my newfound friend.

  It took a moment, then an idea formed. “There is something you can do that’s more important than a ride-along. When I picked up the DVD tonight, I found a partial pack of cigarettes and a fright mask. I can’t be sure, but they might belong to the kidnapper. Maybe he dropped them while planting the envelope.” Telling her about Dabba was not in the equation. I still found Dabba’s actions hard to believe. “Anyway, I turned them over to the police, hoping they could lift fingerprints and identify him. It could take a few hours or the rest of the day. What I need is someone here in the house to keep the pressure on. John will most likely be setting up the money drops. I have several stops I need to make and will be moving as fast as I can. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay her
e and keep reminding the police we need those prints. What do you say?”

  She gave me a look of disappointment. “I can do that. And yes, I agree I will probably be more helpful this way than trying to become an instant Wonder Woman.” She smiled. “You’re pretty sneaky, aren’t you?”

  So much for fooling her. “Truth. I move fast and loose, and sometimes that puts me in situations any sane woman would stay away from. I don’t have time to take care of an amateur. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t need your help here. I do.”

  “You’re on. I’ll harass the police every hour on the hour until they give us what we need.”

  We did air kisses, then she rose and headed into the house. I changed my position to ease the ache in my ribs, then checked the skyline again. No evidence of the sun.

  I returned to my study of the situation. Unless I received an identification and address from the police, my best bet was to find the right pickup place, follow the kidnappers to Ashley, and whisk her out of harm’s way. All I needed was the wisdom of Dumbledore, a Firebolt for transportation, and the magic of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, all I had was me. No, not quite. I also had Bob and his people. The last brought a smile to my face. Maybe I wasn’t as lost as I felt. As soon as the sun rose, I knew whom to call. In the meantime, a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

  _____

  An impish sunbeam found its way into my left eye, prying it open. I sat up with a stiff neck and the disappointment of having a hangover without a party-evening to cause it. Also, I discovered that while I slept with my head down on the table in the gazebo, some foul creature had crawled through my mouth, leaving a horrible taste. Too much coffee, not enough dental floss and toothpaste. After running my tongue over my teeth a couple of times, I arrived at the conclusion I needed to brush them, then find some breakfast. I was hungry.

  I went into Hammonds’ house and availed myself of the facilities. Using the travel toothbrush and toothpaste I’d packed, I made my mouth taste better. My hair still looked like a fright wig, so I stripped and jumped into the shower. Five minutes later, I toweled myself dry and combed out my wet hair as best I could. After redressing in the clothes I’d taken off, I couldn’t see much improvement, but I felt better—all except the hole in my stomach.