by Bobby Cole
“All right now…y’all close your eyes and rest. I’ll be the lookout,” Jake explained as he leaned back. “Here’s a cushion…who needs it?”
“Give it to Elizabeth, Dad,” Katy said.
Jake handed her the cushion, and she thanked Katy. Elizabeth’s settling down some, Jake thought as he leaned back against the wall to consider what daylight would bring. It was silent outside. Inside everybody rested.
Martha O’Brien was draining another cup of coffee when a call came in from the Clay County, Mississippi, sheriff’s department. Holding her hand over the receiver, she whistled loudly. Ollie looked up from the map. She frantically pointed at the phone. Ollie quickly went into his office to take the call. Sheriff Marlow grinned at Martha’s enthusiasm—it was time to update the media. Marlow went to the restroom to check his hair and then to gather the media outside.
“Sheriff Landrum,” said Ollie when he picked up the telephone.
“Sheriff, we have been to the Littlepages’ house. We found the telephone lines cut, the glass on their front door broken by a pro, and there’s evidence of a struggle in the master bedroom. Sometime later this morning, we’ll have a crew there to dust for prints. That’s about it,” the officer explained.
“Thank you. What about the Crosbys?”
“As you know, they live right next door…actually, it’s about a hundred and fifty yards away. The Crosby lady was talking on the phone to Scott Littlepage when we arrived. She was obviously shocked by what all was going on.”
“Had she spoken to her husband?”
“No. She tried to call him while we were there. He’s at his hunting club with their nine-year-old daughter. Turkey huntin’.”
That confirmed Ollie’s suspicions. This was getting worse. A nine-year-old little girl, Ollie thought and grunted his displeasure into the phone.
“Both families are solid members of the community. They have never had any issues at all.”
“Yeah, I understand…but there’s got to be a connection somehow.”
“I understand that Scott Littlepage is en route, but it will be a few hours before he arrives.”
“That’s right. I need you to do something for me. Don’t let Mrs. Crosby come down here yet. She’ll probably want to, but don’t let her. Tell her that we need her at home, in case her husband calls. I have my hands full as it is, and she’ll do us more good staying at home. I’ll keep you informed. What’s your cell phone number?”
Ollie promised to keep the officer up to speed and hung up, more worried than ever. I’ve got to notify everyone that there’s a child involved. Involved in what, though? I don’t have a clue what’s really goin’ on. I need to talk to R.C. to see what they’ve found.
“Miz Martha?”
“Yes, Sheriff.”
“Please get R.C. on the radio for me.”
Ollie leaned back in his chair. This was a disaster. He jotted down the details for Martha to relay to the officers in the field. He would also ask her for the latest on the APB for the Tupelo fellow. After checking the accuracy of the note, he walked to the front of the office and gave it to Martha.
“Make sure everyone gets this info, please.”
“Yes sir. I can’t raise R.C. on the radio. I know he’s on a handheld. He may be down in a low spot or somethin’.”
“Keep tryin’.” Ollie thought about this for a second and decided not to worry about R.C. right now. There would be no simple explanation for his not returning the radio call. R.C. always had the most outlandish excuses.
Ollie went back to his office to call Mick Johnson. Mick answered on the third ring.
“It’s OK. I wasn’t sleeping,” Mick said in response to Ollie’s apology for calling so early in the morning. “I was just puttin’ my boots on to go huntin’. I overslept. Any word on Jake?”
“Mick…there may be more to the phone call you received than we thought. I may need your help searching. Elizabeth Beasley, an eighteen-year-old girl from around here, is missing, and a lady from West Point named Littlepage was found out in the county. She’d been kidnapped.”
“Littlepage? I’ve met Scott Littlepage. Jake introduced me to him—he’s in the same club!”
“It was his wife who was abducted but escaped. It’s really confusing. Can you come down here?”
“Sure. I’ll be right there, Sheriff,” Mick replied.
“Thanks.” Ollie hung up and stared at the phone. He pressed Martha’s extension.
“Have you heard from R.C.?”
“No sir.”
“Damn.”
Ollie looked up when he heard the front door open. Sheriff Marlow came in, laughing loudly about something.
“Hey, Ollie, we need a podium. Can someone from the college here in town bring one over?”
“We don’t need a podium. We need to find some missing girls!” Ollie fumed, then looked at Zach Beasley and back at Marlow. Ollie really wanted to punch Marlow in the throat.
“Girls? As in plural?”
“Yes. I just found out for sure that Jake Crosby, the guy from the hunting club, has his nine-year-old daughter with him.”
“Jeez um…well, that helicopter will be here in an hour. That’s our best hope. By the way, CNN and Fox are sending crews.”
“What? Why?” Ollie asked incredulously. He could understand the local media’s interest, but CNN?
“Well, since the governor’s helicopter is being used for the search, they picked up on it.”
Ollie glared at Marlow, then walked away.
Before he went into his office, he stopped and turned. “Marlow, it’s way more important to rescue those kids than it is to reelect the governor.”
Ollie couldn’t believe he had said it. But he had. He’d just blurted it out. He let out a deep breath, turned around, walked into his office, and slammed the door.
Marlow didn’t know what to say. He glanced furtively around the room. Everybody turned away to act busy. His face flushed red with anger. He decided to go update the media, saying defiantly, to no one in particular, “Obviously, nobody around here understands what it takes to be a twenty-first-century law enforcement officer.”
The helicopter pilot, retired Army Captain Joe Wilson, arrived at Dannelly Field in Montgomery, Alabama, forty-five minutes after receiving the call. The hangar was devoid of any personnel who could assist him in preparing for the flight. If Jeffrey, his ground crew, didn’t arrive soon, he would have to do it all himself. This life was almost as bad as being a corporate pilot but not as dreadful as being a flight instructor. Wilson had retired three years earlier as a helicopter pilot instructor at Fort Rucker, Alabama. The current governor, a close friend, had hired him immediately to pilot his new Bell Ranger. It was state-of-the-art, with lots of luxuries. Since it could land almost anywhere, it was perfect for hopping to events all over the region.
Captain Wilson knew this call was much more important than flying the governor and his kids to the beach. He wasn’t a fan of Sheriff Marlow, because of the deer incident a few years ago, but he craved a crisis. Wilson was military to the core and was bored with civilian flying.
“Come on, Jeffrey. Where the hell are you? Get your ass moving,” Wilson said aloud to no one as he loosened the tie-down straps, then climbed in. The bird was full of fuel. He checked all the instruments and electronics. Finally, he sat down to study the flight map to Livingston. Due west, basically, he noted. Should be easy. He punched the coordinates into the GPS. Simple.
“Jeffrey, you incompetent, worthless piece of…” Wilson muttered as he fired up the Ranger and the rotors slowly started turning. He needed someone to know his flight plan, and it never hurt to have a second set of eyes look over everything. He tightened the chinstrap on his helmet and buckled himself to the seat. When he looked up, Jeffrey was running toward him, his hair flying in the wind of the rotors.
“Whaddaya want me to do?” he yelled.
“File a flight plan to Livingston, Alabama! Do a quick visual! Hurr
y up!” he yelled back.
Jeffery ran around the machine and looked at everything in thirty seconds. Wilson just shook his head. What kind of inspection was that? This kid would never make it in the military. Screw it. It’ll have to do. When Jeffrey got back to the window, he gave him the thumbs-up sign.
“File that flight plan, now. I’ll be doing search and rescue operations, so don’t let them call me back for any bullshit!”
“Yes sir!” Jeffrey mouthed, with a mock salute, crouching as he backed away from the bird.
The powerful helicopter revved up as Wilson did one last, quick instrument check. He gave a thumbs-up and slowly lifted off the ground. He felt more alive than he had in twenty years. Finally, a worthwhile mission.
Jeffrey stood in the rotor wash wondering why he’d had to get out of bed so early on his day off.
Reese was on his hands and knees trying to discern the tracks in the pine needles. Most of the time, the trail was obvious. The recent rain helped. The numerous logging roads crisscrossing the property also assisted him. Twice he had lost the trail in the thick pines, to pick it back up again once his quarry hit the logging roads.
Reese stood, stretched his back, and looked at his watch. He had about an hour and a half until daylight. He leaned his rifle against a giant oak tree and retrieved Johnny Lee’s radiophone from his pocket.
Beep-beep. “Yo,” he whispered.
Beep-beep. “I’m here…but dude, the cops are all over me, man.”
Beep-beep. “Where are you?”
Beep-beep. “I’m south of Livingston a few miles. I finally shook the deputy off my tail. This thing’s way too dangerous for me, man.”
Beep-beep. “Look, I need you bad…there’s an old road on Seventeen around mile marker one fifty-four called Brown Chapel Road. It’s pretty easy to find. Go hide there. Wait for me to beep you. We’ll only be a few miles apart.”
Beep-beep. “Brown Chapel Road at mile one fifty-four. Got it. Hurry up, dude; we gotta get the hell outta here before daylight.”
Beep-beep. “I know…just hang on, bro.”
Reese folded the phone and stuck it in his pocket. He knelt back down to search for the trail. He picked it up and, like a bloodhound, followed the footprints twenty-five solid minutes without letting up. He knew he was getting close. Once, when he crossed a small creek, Reese could easily see the damp leaves from where they had stepped and the mud had not settled back down in the still waters.
Reese quit using the flashlight, depending on his hearing as much as his eyes. At the edge of a big field, Reese stood silently to listen. A deer was snorting off in the woods ahead of him, maybe three hundred yards away. Something had startled it. Reese blew out a breath to check the wind—to determine whether the deer could possibly smell him. Just as he thought, the wind was blowing his scent away from the alarmed deer. There was no way that deer smelled me. Johnny Lee’s killer musta spooked it. Reese’s prey was closer than he expected.
Sitting in total darkness, Jake and the girls had been silent for twenty minutes. Katy was tired but couldn’t sleep. She had laid her head in Jake’s lap, and he was gently rubbing her back. Elizabeth occasionally sobbed, wiping her nose on her shirtsleeve. Jake was exhausted. His adrenaline rush was starting to play out, making his muscles ache. Every few minutes he leaned up without disturbing Katy to look out the shooting slits—each time silently praying he wouldn’t see anything.
“Dad, if you could go any place in the whole world, where would you wanna go?” Katy whispered.
“You mean besides home right this minute? I don’t know. There’s a lot I’ve always wanted to do…hunt Africa for sure, Canada maybe, and stay at this castle called Banff. It’s near a huge lake called Lake Louise—I think Mom would like that, too. What about you?”
“I’d like to meet Mary-Kate and Ashley and go horseback riding. They’ve got a stable, you know.”
“That sounds like fun,” he replied, stroking her hair.
“What about you, Elizabeth?” Katy whispered.
Silence.
Finally Elizabeth quietly answered, “Actually, this is gonna sound crazy, but I think…I wanna go to Auburn this fall, so I can be with my boyfriend, Tanner.”
“Why’s that crazy?” Jake asked.
“Yeah?” Katy wondered.
“Well, my dad’s a huge Alabama fan, and he’d probably disown me if he knew I was even thinking of going to Auburn. My mom wants me to go The University of Virginia—Dad hates it, but he finally agreed to that.”
Jake laughed quietly, remembering the tough decisions facing high school grads. Has it really been twenty years ago that I was having the same anxieties? These decisions will affect the rest of their lives.
“Just take your time. Think everything through. You’ve got the rest of your life to be an adult.”
“I’m serious. Until tonight, I…I never really knew what I wanted. But now I do. Tanner was fighting for my life. I could see how scared he was…and he was scared for me.” She added, “Now I realize how much…how much I love him.” The words were barely out of her mouth, before she broke down sobbing again.
This serious tone hung in the air. Jake rubbed Katy’s back. He was about to tell her that life was too short and too long not to do what she wanted, when Katy screamed, “Aaaaahhh! There’s a spider on me!” as she kicked her legs. “Get it off me!”
Jake put his hand over her mouth, a split second too slow. The scream pierced the darkness. Katy was deathly afraid of spiders. Jake tried to calm her and keep her quiet. Finally, he clicked on the flashlight.
“Where is it?” he whispered, agitated.
“It was on my leg. I could feel it!”
“Katy, be quiet…we have to be quiet,” Jake whispered.
He saw a small brown wood roach and quickly brushed it off her leg, then crushed it with his boot. He immediately clicked off the flashlight and was about to tell Katy not to scream any more when wood chips flew through the air and a loud whacking sound enveloped the box, followed instantly by the booming report from a high-powered rifle.
“Get down! Is anyone hurt?” he screamed, quickly lying on top of Katy. Jake rubbed his hands all over Katy. He didn’t feel anything that felt like a bullet wound. His heart was pounding.
“No!” Elizabeth answered immediately. She was covered in tiny wood splinters.
“Katy, are you hurt!”
“No! What was that! Dad, I’m scared!”
Jake burst open the door. “Come on—we’ve gotta get out!” Grabbing Katy around the waist, he started down the ladder. When he was five feet from the ground, he slid her down his body, held on to her arms, then dropped her. Katy grunted when she hit the ground and stood up quickly. Immediately, he was back up the ladder. He reached in and grabbed the shotgun, putting it over his shoulder. Elizabeth was waiting for help.
“Here, lean out over my shoulder. I’ll carry you down. Hurry up!” he yelled.
Another shot whizzed by, striking the wood just above their heads—KABAM! The thundering report was almost instantaneous. Jake hesitated for a fraction of a second.
“Dad, what’s going on!” Katy yelled.
The sound of Katy’s voice snapped Jake back to reality. Darkness was Jake’s only ally. He could tell the shots were at least two hundred yards away and knew it would be hard to hit a specific target in the dark. We gotta get into the woods fast, he thought.
When he hit the ground, he grabbed Katy and threw her over his left shoulder. He had Katy on one shoulder, Elizabeth on the other. The two of them were too heavy to run with, so he settled into a slow, awkward trot. Jake was really straining under the load and was scared to death. He was making a significant amount of noise plowing through the thick brush, but he had no other options. “Shit!” he exclaimed, huffing and puffing his way through the woods. He tried to look behind him several times, but couldn’t. He couldn’t see or hear anything.
Slowly, the realization hit him that he was going to have to b
e proactive if they were to survive. These guys were only a few yards behind them with a high-powered rifle. They had been tracking him every step of the way. Jake could only think of one option, and he didn’t much like it. Jake prayed that his tactic would work.
A couple of hundred yards behind Jake and the girls, Reese was struggling to see and hear. The muzzle flash and report had briefly blinded and deafened him. When Reese heard the first screams and then saw the light in the elevated house, he had gotten excited and shot too fast. He cursed himself for not being patient. He should have found something to support the rifle on. Two hundred yards was too far to shoot off-hand. I could have snuck right up on the shooting house and executed all of ‘em.
After rubbing his eyes, he was ready. He’d take it slow. He knew he had the advantage. There was no way the girl he had heard scream was going to keep quiet now. They’d be running scared, making mistakes. The thought of catching Johnny Lee’s killer and the girl aroused a prurient interest in Reese. This ain’t just for you anymore, Johnny Lee, Reese thought as a sinister grin spread across his face.
R.C. and Steve Tillman had just gotten out of the Jeep when they heard the first rifle shot. They had followed Tanner’s tire tracks to an opening in the middle of the property. It was the end of the road. It appeared they had pulled in and stopped before turning around and leaving.
“That’s got to be them!” R.C. exclaimed after the shot. He let out a deep breath. He had been looking around where the Jeep was parked.
“How far away was that?” Tillman asked.
“Not more than a mile,” R.C. said as he stared in the direction of the shot, “but it’s hard to be sure. It may be closer.”
“Is there a road that will take us closer?” he asked excitedly after the second shot. He took a directional reading from the compass on his watch.
“No, not that I’m aware of,” Tillman replied after a moment.
“I’m going on; you need to stay here,” R.C. said in a very serious voice. “It could be dangerous.”