by K. T. Tomb
“No, he was never considered. Interest was with the old man and when that didn’t pan out, the case got lost in the shuffle.”
“Someone dropped the ball?” Calder said.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t you.”
“You checked?” he said, affronted.
“Kind of. There wasn’t much excitement about pursuing a kidnapping case with a dead girl who had very obviously been killed by accident.”
“Jesus, they should have pushed it. We need to talk to the kid who killed the little girl. Maybe he saw something.”
“I already contacted him.” She beamed.
“Starting to think like me already. What did you find out?”
“The kid is still pretty fucked up. I happened to catch him sober, which, according to his mother, isn’t very often. If he’s not drunk, he’s strung out on drugs.”
“Nasty. Did you get anything from him?”
“He vaguely remembered a pickup taking off right after he hit the little girl. He thought it might have pulled out of the driveway of the old man’s house, but he couldn’t be sure. He told me that he was pretty out of it at the time. He broke down crying in front of me and apologized for killing the little girl.”
“Isn’t that the way it always is,” he said through clenched teeth. “Bad guys start shit in motion and innocent people have to clean up the mess and live with it.”
“Yeah. Pisses me off, too.”
“So, what is old man Rabb hiding? He obviously covered for his son.”
“Obviously?”
“Yeah, his son kidnapped that little girl and then slipped away when it all went to shit.”
“We don’t know that. We have damned little to go on in that vein,” Graves said, twisting her hair.
“It’s enough to dig a little deeper.”
While he ate hungrily, his mind continued worrying over the new information that he had on the Cassidy Gordon kidnapping. The isolation of Robert Rabb, the camping gear, the scouting experience, the environmental activism and several sets of triggers—it all added up to something, but what? He would have continued following the dead-end leads that pointed to child trafficking and kiddy porn if it hadn’t been for the old man calling him. The old man knew something and he wanted to talk, but he was scared. Real scared.
“There’s more,” Graves said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Tell me.”
“I went to check on Mary Gordon yesterday.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t there. A neighbor said that she left with a man fitting the description of Special Agent Donovan. They were also with a rather large man in that FBI vehicle yesterday morning. The man’s own vehicle, a dark-colored BMW, was parked on the street on street-sweeping day and a tow truck took it away. We’re looking into that to see if Ira Rabb owns a BMW.”
“I bet he does. Did she willingly go with them?”
She nodded. “The neighbor didn’t say anything about it looking strange. The old man said that there had been so many people coming and going, helping her, that he just assumed it was another volunteer helping her look for her daughter.”
“Get a description?”
“Yes, I did, and I confirmed it.”
“Damn, you don’t even need me anymore. I should just go back to bed.”
“Alone?” she flirted.
“We’re working, Graves.”
“Right.” Emily slid the photo across the table to him.
“Dr. Ira Rabb.” He whistled. “Now, why would Mary Gordon get into a car with Dr. Rabb? And Special Agent Donovan?”
Calder picked up his cell and called Zack.
Predictably, there was no answer.
“Graves, turn on GPS tracking for Zack Donovan’s vehicle.”
“Yes, sir.” She made a phone call and when she hung up, she said, “The device is disabled.”
“Tsk, tsk. I knew that was going to happen because I know Zack Donovan, so I have an auxiliary tracking device.”
“Oh, that’s rich.”
“Yes, it is.” Now it was his turn to grin like a Cheshire cat. “It’s on his cell phone. It is a tiny black sticker tracker and it takes power from the phone battery. I planted it myself while he was talking to Mary Gordon in her house and had left his phone unattended in the charger.” He pressed a few buttons on his computer. “Activated! They’re heading north.”
“You’re so bad, Agent Eric Calder.”
“But I’m so good when I’m so bad, Agent Emily Graves,” he said suggestively.
“Prove it.”
“Don’t dare me like that, beautiful. You up for a road trip?”
“Wherever they’re going, we’re going, right?”
“That was my plan.”
“I’m in,” she said and winked at him. “So, how are we going to work this out with Special Agent Donovan?”
“When he gets close, we’ll rush in to assist and maybe we’ll even get the collar. Depending on how things go down. We’ll let him go in first. We’ll clean up and call CNN.”
“Okay, that’s truly evil,” Emily said. “I didn’t know you were capable of such things.”
“Shut up. You know it turns you on.”
“You’re terrible!” she insisted, but laughed anyway.
“Second responder is how I stay alive and keep getting promoted. Watch and learn, Graves.”
Chapter Fifteen
“We’ve got eight to ten hours of road trip ahead of us,” Zack said.
“I can share the driving,” Mary said.
“You can’t. It’s my work vehicle and I don’t want you touching anything on the dash.”
“What have you got on this vehicle, like James Bond sort of devices? Rocket launchers and whatnot?”
“Maybe,” he said, smiling.
She smiled back and he caught that in the rear-view mirror.
“First time I have seen you smile,” he said, his sapphire-blue eyes in the mirror, looking back at her.
“That’s because we’re going to get Cassidy. Nothing else matters. Watch the road, Zack. Many brake lights just ahead.”
“Thanks,” he said and turned his attention to the traffic.
Zack glanced at Ira. “So, tell me about yourself, about Robert, about your lives.”
“Really?” he replied.
“Yeah, I need to know that stuff.”
“Right,” Ira said and started talking. “From the time that Robert was born, he was such an intense child, very introspective, introverted, and a perfectionist in everything from sports to math to science. What he lacked in personable skills, shall we say, he made up for on the football field and in research labs for global warming.”
“Wow,” Zack said and nodded for Ira to continue.
“I won’t say he ever played well with others, even as a child, but he could learn anything he set his mind to…”
Listening to Ira’s account of the events of his tragic life and the tragic life of his son brought Mary to a new level of compassion for him. His story of Ira’s loss of his wife—Bobby’s mother—and Ira’s chronic and mysterious autoimmune illness, compounded with tales of Bobby’s growing mental illness, began to melt the initial coldness and mistrust that she had for him.
Mary even began to pity him. She had gotten used to his bad smell and once she understood that dressing in layers and the elevated heat within the car had to do with his illness, she was a little more tolerant. Ira, for his part, seemed to be not quite as cold as he was before and made a compromise with her concerning the vehicle’s heater.
Traffic was monstrous. It took fourteen hours to reach Sacramento after dark. They found lodging for the night; it would do them no good to stumble through the darkness in the wilderness.
Zack shared a room with Ira—Mary had her own motel room, right next to them. The desk clerk didn’t blink an eye at the strange trio.
Before they started out just before dawn the next morning, Zack attempted a call to the Plumas National Fo
rest District Office in Quincy, but since it was a Sunday morning, he only heard a recorded message.
As they met up for the free continental breakfast the next morning, Zack explained things to Ira and Mary.
“I had hoped to find out if Robert’s pickup had been recorded on any of the lists. You see, they keep an eye on vehicles that are parked and check their permits. If the permits have expired, they give them a citation. In any case, someone would have logged his permit number, if he’s there. But, there is no one picking up calls on Sunday, apparently.”
“Great,” Mary said.
“So, what do we do?” Ira asked.
“We forget about checking permits and just go there!” Mary blurted. She was too damned close and she had already had to wait overnight. She had barely slept the night before and she was ready to be moving forward, doing something, even if it was a dead end.
Zack said, “I was just going to suggest that we drive the highway that cuts through the Plumas National Forest and talk to someone in person at Quincy when the office opens in the morning. We might even get lucky and see something today. But we’ll scout the parking lots first because it makes no sense to just plunge into the wilderness without knowing what trail they took.”
“I can live with that,” Mary said.
“Me, too, since I kind of know the trails that he might have taken. When we get closer, I will recognize the turnoffs,” Ira said.
“Sounds good,” Zack replied.
Mary squirmed. She wanted answers and she wanted them now, but she knew that she would have to deal with what was there and try to make the best of it. She hurried to finish her breakfast and then waited impatiently as Ira took his sweet time. When they were finally on the road again, she was still tense, anticipating whatever was coming. She hoped that the day would end with her baby in her arms, but her optimism was tempered by the nagging reality that they might be on a wild goose chase.
As the FBI SUV wound its way along California 49, climbing into the mountains, Mary was lost in the beauty of the evergreen-laden slopes and the impossibly blue sky with white puffy clouds. Even from inside the car, she could feel a change. Everything seemed fresher and cleaner. The heaviness of L.A.’s toxic air was obvious by its absence. Even Ira seemed to find more energy.
Today’s ride was a little more tolerable. Ira had taken a shower that morning and the smell was a little less overwhelming, though he was wearing the same stale clothing that he’d had on from the day before.
Still on edge, Mary could feel herself relaxing ever so slightly as she was able to get a better grip on the ledge of hope that had been slowly slipping away under her fingertips since a few days before. Something inside of her, perhaps the instincts of a mother, told her that she would be with her baby soon. She was clinging to that hope with her eyes closed when the car slowed and Ira muttered something under his breath to Zack.
“What? What’s going on?”
“This is it!” Ira shouted.
“Gee, could you give me a warning?” Zack pulled off the road and into a parking area. There were a half a dozen cars parked there. He pulled into a space, parked and turned off the motor.
“Why are we stopping?” Mary asked.
“That’s his pickup.” Ira pointed.
“Are you kidding? He drove his own vehicle. For a kidnapping?” Zack was shocked. Who did that?
“Obviously, he is not thinking clearly,” Ira said. “Actually, I was counting on that pickup being here. Now, we know I’m right.”
Mary followed his pointing finger to the white Ram pickup, two parking spots away. Her heart began to thunder in her chest. She was here. Somewhere near here. Her baby was close. She got out of the car and ran to the pickup. She walked all of the way around it looking for some sign of Cassidy. She knew it was crazy. There would be no arrows drawn on the ground or signs pointing to where her little girl had gone. However, just to be so close, gave her a new rush of hope. Ira had joined her after she had made two complete circuits around the pickup.
“You’re sure this is his.”
“Positive. I bought this pickup for him so he could go camping. I’d know it anywhere. I bought those seat covers at Costco for him.”
Mary squealed in excitement. “Thank you, Ira!”
“You’re welcome, Mary.”
“Now the hard part of the trip starts, right?” Zack said to Ira.
“Yes. Now, we hike.”
“So, where is he with my daughter?” She gazed off across miles and miles of evergreen slopes and valleys. They could be anywhere out there. How could they possibly find them? It would be like looking for a needle—
She didn’t finish the thought. They would find her little girl. She had to. She read the sign and the crude map on it: Scarlett Ridge Trail Head. She turned leaned toward Ira Rabb.
“What do we do now, Ira?”
“We walk a long way and find them.” He seemed so casual, though she could see the deep fear in his eyes that Cassidy might be dead.
“But where? There are a thousand square miles to search. We need to call someone to help us. Like forest rangers, right?” She looked at Zack.
“No. Let’s give it a try on our own first. I don’t want to get her killed. It’s a delicate thing to extricate a child from a kidnapper. You can’t just rush in, guns blazing, because he might panic and kill the child and then himself. I’ve seen it happen.”
Ira didn’t disagree. “No, please don’t contact anyone else to help. Let me try to reason with him.” His eyes became wet again.
“You’ll have one try, and then I’ll take over,” Zack said. “And you will do exactly as I say.”
“I will,” Ira promised.
“But you can’t hike these trails,” Mary said.
“He’s my son and she’s my granddaughter,” he said. “For both their sakes, I have to do this.”
Mary had a whole new admiration and understanding of Ira Rabb. She had felt the fear, panic, and grief from losing her child for the past days, but now she was beginning to understand the deep and heart-wrenching guilt of a father who had lost his son and bore a heavy responsibility for his actions. “Okay, we’ll try. Where do you want to start?”
Zack looked at Ira. “You are the navigator here unless I have to turn on my phone, but if I do, FBI will be everywhere.”
“I know where to go. Let’s follow the trail. I was a Scout leader and I went here with him and all of the boys in the troop. Back before GPS gizmos, we hiked way back in the mountains and we found this old miner’s cabin. I can find it again. My Bobby was so taken with this place. He wanted to live there. And live off the land. We talked about if there was some sort of world war and we had to bug out of Los Angeles, that we could come here and drink the water and find edible wild plants. He later became an environmentalist, but I remember the look on his face as an Eagle Scout. He loved this place and out of all the thousands of acres here in Plumas, he’s there, in old California Gold Rush country, in that miner’s cabin, if it still stands.” Ira sighed. “If not, he’s probably built a shelter nearby. He’s quite adept at such things.”
Zack said, “Ira, you are a hero.”
“Not yet, I’m not,” he said. “I failed my son in so many ways and now, I am having a reality check. It’s too late for Bobby. I know this, deep down, though I have never admitted it before, not even to myself. But I won’t fail my granddaughter.”
“God bless you,” Mary said.
“Not yet. Come on, it’s hard, but at the end of the road, there’s a little girl who wants her mother very badly.”
Failing any better plan except hiking in with Ira directing the way, the three of them set out on the trail.
At first, Ira Rabb did a pretty decent job of keeping up. Mary assumed that it was likely due to his own eagerness. She had been amazed how the slightest ray of hope often energized a person and she believed that Ira Rabb was clinging to the same hope for his son that she was for her baby.
As th
e day pressed on and the distance grew, however, Ira began to fall further behind and he didn’t look well. His complexion was a little…gray.
She sat down on a boulder alongside the trail in order to wait for him. Zack had run back on the trail to help Ira. She noticed a small trail branching off to the left. It was dim, not part of the main trail that everyone else had followed. How many of these smaller trails branched off from the main one? Bobby Rabb could have taken her daughter down any one of them. How could they search every trail? She felt tears of frustration building up and her fingers began to slip from the ledge of hope once again. She was so close to her baby and yet, still far away.
“I need to sit a minute,” Ira said between huffs and puffs of breath as he lowered himself onto a boulder beside the trail. He didn’t look very well.
“Are you sure that you should keep going?” Zack asked.
“I can’t stop. I have to try.”
“Jesus, Ira, you’re going to kill yourself,” Zack said.
His pale eyes penetrated right through to Mary’s soul. “In many ways, I’m already dead. I have not done one redeemable thing in my life. Well, my life is almost over. If I can save Cassidy, maybe the Lord will have mercy on my soul.”
She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. She stood and began strolling about the small area where they were resting. She had to be moving, had to be doing something.
She heard Ira groan, slump off of the boulder, and hit the ground behind it.
“Ira!” She rushed to him. He was not moving. She slapped his face briskly, but got no response. “Ira! Come on! You can’t quit on me! Not now! We’re too close!” She checked for a pulse. He had a pulse, but he still hadn’t responded to her. “Shit! Come on!” She slapped him harder. That did the trick for the moment.
“Ow! How many times are you gonna hit me in that same jaw? It just adds insult to injury,” Ira complained.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, sorry!” Mary said. “I thought you were dead.”
“Not yet, I’m not. Gotta get moving before you start actually beating the dead,” he muttered. “Help me up.”
They both got him off the ground.