Heartfelt Cases Book 4:
The Keres Case
By Julie C. Gilbert
Table of Contents:
Dedication:
Cast of Characters:
Prologue:
Chapter 1: The Search
Chapter 2: The New Problem
Chapter 3: Unpleasant Surprises
Chapter 4: Creepy Calls
Chapter 5: The Calm before the Storm
Chapter 6: End of the Dawson Case
Chapter 7: Good Little Boys and Girls
Chapter 8: Cold Case Comeback
Chapter 9: Casualties
Chapter 10: The Game and the Ransom
Chapter 11: Teddy Bear Challenge
Chapter 12: Odd Jobs
Chapter 13: Peacemaker
Chapter 14: New Arrivals
Chapter 15: Linchpin
Chapter 16: Last Day Interview
Chapter 17: House on Maple Drive
Chapter 18: Ambush
Chapter 19: The Keres Legacy
Chapter 20: The Story and the Bargain
Chapter 21: Discoveries and Deadlines
Chapter 22: New Threats
Chapter 23: Complications
Chapter 24: Meeting of the Minds
Chapter 25: Strange Child
Chapter 26: Keep Her Safe
Chapter 27: Favors
Chapter 28: Unexpected Developments
Chapter 29: Setting the Timers
Chapter 30: Plan of Action
Chapter 31: The Head Game
Chapter 32: Heroes
Chapter 33: Special Delivery
Chapter 34: For the Children
Chapter 35: Coming Clean
Chapter 36: Beacon
Chapter 37: Two Ways to truth
Chapter 38: Treat
Chapter 39: Unexpected Ally
Chapter 40: Reunion and Reflection
Epilogue:
Other Works:
Dedication:
To Deb Monroe, for believing in the Heartfelt Cases series.
Cast of Characters:
FBI Special Agents:
Patrick Duncan – Ann’s husband; father of Joseph and Amanda
Julie Ann Duncan – Patrick’s wife; mother of Joseph and Amanda
George Baker – friend of Duncan family; engaged to Joy Davidson
Cory Lawson – George’s partner
Parker Family:
Jonathan Parker – FBI computer specialist; Rachel’s husband
Rachel Parker – Jon’s wife; Ann’s friend
Edinboro Police Department:
Chief Edward Finney
Detective Donald Wickerman
Officer Ralph Porter
Officer Pamela Stanley
Davidson Household:
Able Davidson – Ann’s father
Carol Davidson – Ann’s mother
Joy Davidson – Ann’s sister; engaged to George Baker
Nicholas Davidson – Ann’s brother
Marina Nardin – Carol and Able’s foster daughter
Malia Ayers – Carol and Able’s foster daughter
Important Victims:
Silas Carver – Rita’s son; eight-year-old kidnapping victim
Rita Carver – Silas’s mother
Karen Tyler – seventeen-year-old kidnapping victim
Rebecca Tyler – mother of Karen and Ellie
Zachary Tyler – father of Karen and Ellie
Ellie Tyler – Karen’s sister
Dr. Carl Surhan – physician serving the kidnapper under duress
Dara Surhan – Carl Surhan’s daughter
Other:
Varick Ayers – brother of Malia
Prologue:
Kidnapper’s Base of Operations
Elk County, Pennsylvania
“Are you sure the victim should be Silas? The plan will work with any kid.” The man believed in offering second chances, but he would not ask a third time. His associate had chosen the target.
“It’s the only way I get my money and get back at that woman,” grumbled the other man.
“So be it,” said the first man. “You’ll drive today. Tell Wayne he gets the night off.” He kept his expression grave until the second man left. Then, he allowed himself a small, triumphant grin.
Forcing people to do something is good. Making them believe they want—or need—to do something is better.
Chapter 1:
The Search
Carver Residence
Edinboro, Pennsylvania
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” called Rita Carver, entering her son’s dimly lit room. She clomped past the bed, gripped the cord controlling the blinds, and yanked downward. Cheerful sunlight flooded the room, forcing Rita to blink against the sudden glare.
I’ve become my mother.
“Seriously, Silas, it’s time to get up. Sleeping past ten is a bad habit,” Rita said, turning toward the bed and pushing the disturbing thought aside.
Her mind flew to all she had accomplished on this fine Friday morning as her son whiled away the hours sleeping like a teenager rather than an energetic child usually up with the sun. She had eaten breakfast, prepared and consumed two cups of coffee, retrieved and read half the paper, and done a load of laundry.
Summer has certainly spoiled Silas.
Rita frowned at the unmoving form. Usually Silas was a very light sleeper, but the lumpy blankets hadn’t stirred one bit through the noise of her entrance or the blast of sunlight. A strange feeling gripped Rita’s gut as she stared at the blankets. Silas normally slept like the dead, flat on his back with hands folded neatly across his stomach. Even on the rare occasion he slept on his side, he favored a position that barely bent his knees. Rita’s former husband had once said they should put a flower in Silas’s hands and take a picture.
Jack has a morbid sense of humor.
Rita braced against the thought of her ex-husband, experiencing both the pain of missing Old Jack and the relief of missing New Jack.
Her frown melted into a small smile as the overhead fan rustled the winter blanket.
Figures, while the air conditioning and fan fight to cool things down, Silas plays the hibernating bear.
“Silas?” Rita barely resisted the urge to reach over and whip the blankets off her son. Two steps covered the distance to the head of the bed. Rita leaned forward and instinctively softened her voice as she asked, “Silas, are you feeling okay?”
Her eyes met the incongruous sight of brown packing paper. Shock and confusion hit Rita like the one-two combo of a prizefighter. Pushing down her panic, Rita grabbed the blankets and yanked hard. Something warm ran down her right hand. Pain followed a split-second later. Yelping with surprise as well as pain, Rita pulled her hand away from the bed and cradled it protectively to her chest. The sudden movement left a trail of blood across the white and blue sections of Silas’s Spiderman pillowcase.
Get help.
Rita stood still and wondered where the thought had come from and why she was thinking it. She looked down at her palm and saw she had cut herself from the space just below her pinky to a few inches below her wrist.
How clumsy of me.
Then, she saw the knife rising out of the sea of packing paper, fixed in place with duct tape and cardboard.
Darkness pressed in on Rita’s vision. Her thoughts turned fuzzy. Having experienced such unpleasant sensations at two other times in her life, she knew she would soon faint.
Silas!
The thought made her twitch her injured hand which brought a clarifying shot of pain through her head.
“Silas!” Rita whispered fiercely.
Where is
he?
With that thought burning inside, Rita used well-timed tweaks of her injured hand to keep herself conscious enough to stumble out of the room, move down the hallway to her bedroom, and reach for the phone.
Fingers slick with blood, Rita had to concentrate hard to dial the proper digits.
A pleasant, yet efficient female voice answered her call.
“911. What is your emergency?”
Rita’s thoughts warred between the conflicting problems.
“Hello? Are you there? Can you speak? If you can speak, please say ‘yes.’”
“Yes,” Rita choked out.
“Is there an emergency?” The patient voice possessed a hint of curiosity.
“Yes, my son is gone.” Rita’s voice lacked emotion.
Curiosity vanished, replaced by professional coolness.
“How long has your son been missing, ma’am?”
“I don’t know.”
“How old is your son?”
“Eight.”
“Where are you calling from, ma’am?”
“Home.”
“Is that the address your phone is registered to?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, ma’am, stay on the line. I’m dispatching police to your location now.”
“I’m bleeding. I might faint.”
“Can you stop the blood flow?”
Rita wanted to answer the woman, but blackness crept into her vision and her breaths grew increasingly shallow.
The phone clattered to the floor.
“Ma’am?”
***
Officer Ralph Porter rolled up to the Carver residence, reported his position to the dispatcher, and hauled himself out of his patrol car. In his twelve years on the Edinboro police force, he could count the missing children on one hand and two of those had been parental kidnappings resolved in days, if not hours. The scant details the dispatcher gave him, said this case would be a whole new ball of wax. Shaking his head at the general depravity of mankind, Officer Porter lumbered up to the front door and knocked.
“Mrs. Carver? This is Officer Porter with the Edinboro Police Department. May I come in?” A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Ralph along with a vision of himself kicking the door down, but he tried the knob first. It turned easily. He pulled his gun out to perform a proper search. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate any trouble, but even a small town cop knew trouble usually came when least expected.
After confirming that the downstairs area truly held no sinister surprises, Ralph moved up the soft, carpeted stairs to the second floor. He found one neat, orderly room that had been converted into a combination of office and sewing room before coming to a child’s bedroom that presented an odd sight indeed.
Blue blankets and Spiderman sheets lay in a heap at the bottom of a twin bed. A jury-rigged contraption made of brown paper, bits of cardboard, and duct tape held a wicked-looking knife at a forty-five degree angle. Blood on the knife and pillowcase told him someone had run afoul of the knife.
Who would hide a knife in a child’s bed? Where is the child?
Officer Porter performed a quick visual sweep for the female 911-caller before moving on.
He found a woman slumped against a small nightstand in the master bedroom.
“Mrs. Carver, can you hear me, ma’am?”
Despite being out cold, the woman—presumably Mrs. Carver—had a nice, strong pulse. After checking her vital signs, Ralph radioed to make sure the dispatcher had an ambulance en route. Blood slowly leaked out of a gash running from the woman’s palm to her wrist. Ralph hoisted himself up and retrieved a towel from the bathroom to press against the wound. He regretted having to disturb the scene, but his first duty was to help the bleeding woman.
The emergency response team showed up a few minutes later. A young man strapped the victim to a gurney.
His partner, Kelly Woodbury, engaged Ralph in the customary exchange of rapid-fire questions and answers.
“Who is she?”
“Mrs. Carver, I suppose.”
“What do you mean, you ‘suppose’?”
Ralph swallowed some irritation then covered for the pause by clearing his throat.
“I’ll have to double check with a photo ID, but the house is registered to Rita Carver.”
This woman should work in Gitmo, Ralph thought, pulling from his TV crime drama knowledge.
“How did you find her?”
“Dispatch said a woman claimed her son was missing and that she herself was bleeding. Then, she became unresponsive.”
“How long has she been here?”
“I don’t know.” Ralph checked his watch. “I got the call about twenty minutes ago. Will you take her to Millcreek? I’ll have to question her about her son and let her family know.”
A firm nod was all the answer Ralph got before the emergency medical technicians packed up the woman, lugged her down the stairs, wheeled her out the front door, and loaded her into the ambulance for transport.
Ralph washed the blood off his hands and arms as best he could before reporting in again. After doing his best to secure the house, especially the child’s bedroom, he called his boss. He would need to confirm with Mrs. Carver, but his gut told him they would soon be launching a massive manhunt. Outside help would definitely be required.
***
Millcreek Community Hospital
Erie, Pennsylvania
“Find my son!” Rita Carver leveled a glare at Officer Porter that sailed right through his bulletproof vest. She had already told him as much as she could, why didn’t he do something?
“Officers are working on it, ma’am,” the policeman assured her. “I need to ask you some questions.”
“Silas is gone! What else matters?”
He’s just trying to help.
The thought provided absolutely no comfort to Rita.
“When was the last time you saw your son, ma’am?”
Stop wasting my time by asking questions I already answered! Find Silas!
Despite her true feelings, Rita forced herself to think about the officer’s question. She agreed with the answer she’d given him the first time.
“Last night around eleven, I guess. I read to Silas around nine-thirty, but I checked on him again before turning in myself.” A tiny wave of embarrassment prompted her to add, “He could read in bed on his own, but I insist because it lets me see him.”
“What did Silas look like when you checked on him?”
The question confused Rita.
“He looked like my son.”
“I mean: did anything seem amiss?”
“No. Silas had the covers pulled up to his chin like it was the dead of winter.” Rita’s lips twitched in a weak attempt at a smile. “That was normal for him.”
“Did you hear anything throughout the night?”
“No.”
“Could your ex-husband have taken him?”
“Jack wouldn’t do that!”
Would he?
Old Jack would have run into traffic to save a dog, but New Jack would find three buddies to place bets on the dog’s chances of survival.
The officer seemed apologetic.
“Do you or your former husband have any enemies?”
Rita shook her head helplessly.
“Who would do such a thing?”
“We’re going to work hard on finding out, ma’am,” the officer promised. He reached into his pocket and took out an evidence bag. “Do you recognize anything about this note?”
Accepting the clear plastic bag, Rita stared at the short, typed message:
You have seven hours to find the boy. Search the Erie National Wildlife Refuge.
Rita wanted to help the officer, but her brain couldn’t process much beyond the time constraints.
Seven hours!
***
Erie National Wildlife Refuge
Guys Mills, Pennsylvania
Five hours later, Officer Ralph Porter sucked at a water
bottle so hard the cheap plastic crushed inward with a creak of protest. Sweat poured down his flushed face almost as fast as he could replace it from the tepid supplies handed out by church ladies. The water bottles had once been ice-cold, but hours of fruitless searching in the late summer heat had sapped the refreshing qualities.
“Hey, Ralph, take it easy, man,” said his buddy, Detective Donald Wickerman. “There’s a lot more water here for the taking. How long have you been at this?”
“We’ve got to find that kid, Donny,” Ralph declared, taking another swig of water.
Random shouts of “Silas!” and “Silas Carver!” punctuated his statement.
“You’ve done your duty, Ralph. I’m taking over now, Finney’s orders,” Wickerman asserted. He gripped Ralph’s shoulders and squeezed gently yet firmly.
“Surprised you actually got in touch with him,” said Ralph. “What’s the grand adventure this time? Nova Scotia? Alaska?”
Nodding in sympathy, Wickerman shook him lightly.
“Don’t know for sure, but you should relax and save your breath. This grid’s almost clear. Go back to the command tent and get a cold drink. You’re no good to us—or that kid—if you wither out here like a sun-dried raisin.”
“The note said we needed to find him in seven hours,” Ralph said, as much to himself as Donny. “It’s already been over six hours, if you count from the time we discovered him missing. Who knows when the kidnapper’s counting from! I don’t like this.”
“I don’t think anybody does,” Donny pointed out dryly, “but look at the turnout. Over two hundred people are pulling for this kid. I heard the local high school sent out a text blast for search volunteers. We’ll find him.”
Ralph checked with his gut and agreed with his friend. They would find Silas. He just didn’t know if they would find him alive. He also didn’t like that the situation stank of a setup.
Who kidnaps a kid and gives the police instructions on where to conduct a manhunt?
He could still feel the laminated piece of white paper buried under the packing materials and knife on the kid’s bed.
“You’re doing it again,” Donny said in a scolding tone.
The Keres Case (Heartfelt Cases Book 4) Page 1