“It’s all right. They’ll get you home. Calm down.” His tone added: please, stop crying.
Donny knelt next to Silas and put his arm around the boy. Silas responded by snatching his hand from Kenny’s weak grasp and practically tackling Donny with a hug. Kenny looked relieved. Donny looked up at Ralph.
“Take Kenny and join the search for the girl. I’ll question Silas once he’s calm and radio you if I find anything useful. I’ll also update the feds. They’ll want to know we’ve got a possible second incident here.”
Ralph and Kenny spent the next half-hour fruitlessly searching for Karen. The search sounded much the same as the one for Silas, only the name changed. Ralph’s throat hurt from shouting. His feet, stomach, and head hurt, and his clothes felt like they wanted to strangle him. All Ralph’s discomfort vanished the instant a young woman’s voice rang out through the forest.
“I found something!”
“Karen?” Kenny asked hopefully.
Ralph didn’t pause to speculate. He simply ran toward the female voice. The first voice he had followed today belonged to Karen and carried excellent news. Now, he found himself racing toward a different female voice hoping for good news concerning Karen. His mind dissected the young woman’s tone as she continued shouting. She sounded excited, wary, and a little frightened.
Being younger and faster than Ralph, Kenny made it to the young woman first.
“That’s weird,” Kenny muttered, leaning against a tree for support.
“What is it?” Ralph inquired. He worked hard not to gasp for breath.
“I’m not sure,” the girl admitted. “A map, I think.”
The small crowd that had gathered pressed close to squint at the girl’s discovery.
“Treasure map?” asked a boy.
“Maybe it’s part of a game,” speculated another girl.
Ralph doubted the map would lead to any sort of treasure they wanted to find. Judging by the lack of dirt on the paper, somebody had left it recently.
The only person playing games today has a very nasty sense of humor.
“Why is it in pieces?” wondered another boy.
“I found them scattered in this area,” said the girl who had discovered the map.
“It is this area,” said Kenny.
A quick comparison to the surroundings proved Kenny right. Everybody clamored to voice their opinions, but Ralph blocked them out. He had always excelled at mental mapping. Without comment, he followed the map’s markings about twenty feet from the cluster of teens and examined the ground. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Normal forest sounds battled the cacophony of young interlopers.
Okay, you left a map that leads here. Why? What do you want us to find?
“Did you find something?” Kenny asked, startling Ralph.
“No. But I—”
“Hey, this is where the map leads!” exclaimed the map finder.
The words broke the unseen dam that had held the young people back. They flooded the area and scrambled to find the treasure first. Ralph’s blood pressure spiked as each foot trampled potential evidence.
“I don’t think—” Ralph began. He considered drawing his gun and shooting up in the air to quiet the young nature-wreckers.
“The dirt’s loose over here,” called a boy, kneeling and scooping at the ground with cupped hands.
“Stop!” Ralph roared. His order contained enough stopping power to give a rampaging rhino reason to pause.
The teenagers froze.
“What’s the big deal, man?” asked one of the young men.
Ralph straightened to his full 6’ 2” height.
“If there’s anything to find, you’re as likely to destroy it as find it searching like that.”
They considered his words.
“He’s right,” admitted the girl with the map. “What do you—”
A resounding crack cut her off. Ralph performed some lightning quick calculations and barreled toward the girl. His impressive tackle scattered the kids like bowling pins.
Something solid slammed into the ground where the girl had stood.
Ralph rolled off her and scrambled to his feet to inspect the cause of the commotion.
A tree branch …
The girl’s yelp shifted to a much more painful, ear-assaulting scream as she caught sight of what had fallen with the branch. Her companions added more screams to the mix.
Ralph might have screamed too if he’d had any breath left to spare. Having none, he just stared.
And a skeleton.
Chapter 4:
Creepy Calls
Tyler Residence
Edinboro, Pennsylvania
A forceful knock at the front door pulled Rebecca Tyler’s attention away from the television. She didn’t mind. The local news kept bringing up depressing results in the frantic search for Silas Carver anyway.
“I get,” Ellie announced.
“No, Ellie!” Rebecca called. She muted the TV and bolted from the couch, casting an anxious eye toward the hot iron which still hissed occasionally from its perch atop the wobbly ironing table.
It’ll keep. Ellie’s at the door anyway.
The thought lent extra speed to Rebecca’s legs as she tore through the house to reach the front door before her daughter.
She was too late.
The door stood wide open, letting the cool air rush out.
“Ellie?”
Suddenly, Ellie filled the doorway jumping up and down and waving something excitedly.
“Look! I find gift!” Ellie waved a half-sized manila envelope at her mother. “Here. For you.” Ellie’s sweet smile could brighten any day.
Rebecca solemnly accepted the package with both hands.
“Thank you, Ellie. Shall we—”
A phone rang from inside the package.
“Ring. Ring. Ring,” said Ellie. She clapped both hands over her ears and moaned. “No ring!” she commanded the package.
The phone continued to ring.
Rebecca ushered her daughter back into the house and closed the front door before ripping the package open. Something white fluttered to the floor, but Rebecca’s attention stayed on the black phone that appeared in her palm. The touch screen filled with a green button that said accept and a red button that said reject. Rebecca stared at the phone, instinctively knowing that everything would change if she answered it. She didn’t want that. She wanted the relief of finding Ellie safe and sound to last forever.
The phone stopped ringing and chimed instead. The screen flashed and informed her that she had a new text message.
“Kare-Kare!” Ellie exclaimed, waving the white thing that had fallen to the floor.
Rebecca seized Ellie’s wrist and held it still. The sound of Ellie’s nickname for Karen combined with the picture to sap Rebecca’s strength.
Time slowed. Rebecca’s breaths turned shallow.
“Ow! Too hard!”
Rebecca released Ellie’s arm. The sudden movement jarred the picture from Ellie’s hand. The haunting image fluttered to the floor, landing face up. It showed Karen staring into the camera with wide, frightened eyes from the trunk of a white car. Duct tape bound her wrists together. Rebecca couldn’t see her daughter’s legs, but she assumed those would also be restrained with tape. Nothing covered Karen’s mouth, but she kept her lips pressed together in a thin line as if forcibly holding words in.
Spots swam across Rebecca’s vision. She leaned heavily against the front door, as if the extra two inches of distance would improve the situation.
“Mommy sad?” Ellie asked. “No cry, Mommy.”
The phone chimed again and informed her that she had two unread messages. Rebecca hadn’t even felt herself start weeping, but her damp collar and blurry vision confirmed it. She sank to the floor and checked the text messages.
The first read: Answer phone.
The second said: NOW.
“Why cry?”
Rebecca couldn’t even begin a
nswering that question for her daughter. Instead, she patted the ground next to her.
“Hug-kiss?”
Nodding, Rebecca wrapped her left arm around Ellie and drew her close. Ellie gave her a crushing hug and planted a big kiss on her cheek.
A moment later the phone rang.
Rebecca flinched.
“Hush, phone,” Ellie ordered.
In defiance, the phone rang again.
Praying for strength she didn’t have, Rebecca said, “Ellie, go pack your dolls for me. Dress them pretty. We’ll show them to Daddy later. I … need to take this phone call.”
“Yay! Show!” Ellie cheered. She scampered off to go prepare her dolls.
Swallowing hard, Rebecca answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello?”
“I have your daughter,” said a deep, male voice.
“Don’t hurt her!” Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath. “Please, don’t hurt her.” The second statement was little more than a dying whisper.
“The police will contact you soon to confirm it. So will the FBI,” the voice continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “Tell them to drop the investigation unless they want Karen to meet an end like Gabriel Dawson or Lillian Green.”
“Who are they? What does that mean?”
“Ransom instructions will follow soon.”
Ransom?
Rebecca’s heart lurched.
“We’re not rich.”
“Instructions will follow.”
“What if they don’t listen to me?”
The answer stunned her.
“They won’t.”
Rebecca’s mind reeled. Why would you give an order you expect to be ignored?
“Let my daughter go. Please! Just let her go and disappear. They won’t pursue you. I promise. I won’t let them. Let her go.”
The man chuckled at her pleas.
This isn’t about ransom.
“What do you really want?”
“A challenge.”
His inflection told Rebecca that this was the first—and perhaps only—truth.
“I don’t understand. What challenge? Who can challenge you?”
“I’m eager to find out.”
***
FBI Special Agent George Baker and his partner followed Edinboro police department’s only detective, Donald Wickerman, up the attractive, bricked walkway leading to the Tyler residence. The bricks ended just before three cement steps and a small platform playing host to a large potted plant and a patriotic welcome mat. From the outside, the pleasant two-story home looked too peaceful to be the right place. A small sign affixed to the center of the door read: HOME is where your family is.
I hate this part.
Baker cast a grim sideways glance at Cory Lawson—partner number three in Baker’s FBI career—who wore a neutral expression. Lawson nodded briefly to let Baker know he shared the sentiment. Maybe there was something more than blond hair and lean, fit figures factoring into Baker and Lawson being dubbed “The Twins” by the office gossips. Once again, Baker marveled at the level of nonverbal communication that could exist. His first partner always relied on direct orders, though that was to be expected from a senior agent training a recent Academy graduate. Baker tried not to think about his second partner.
So far, Lawson’s all right.
A slightly disheveled man answered Wickerman’s polite knock.
“We know,” he said flatly. Mr. Tyler clutched at his already loosened tie like it was strangling him.
“May we come in, Mr. Tyler?” asked Detective Wickerman. “We need to speak with you and your wife.”
A pale woman with blond hair appeared next to Mr. Tyler.
“Please come in. My husband will show you to the sitting room.”
“Hi!” greeted an enthusiastic child. She clutched her mother’s hand and bounced, repeatedly flexing her knees.
“A neighbor has agreed to watch Ellie for a while,” said Mrs. Tyler, enduring the arm-shaking experience. “I’m going to walk her over there now.”
“I can do that, ma’am,” Lawson offered.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mrs. Tyler said reflexively.
“Ellie won’t like it,” Mr. Tyler explained.
Considering the purpose of their visit, Baker couldn’t blame Mrs. Tyler for her wariness. He gave Lawson his opinion with a glance.
Ellie’s response contradicted her parents.
“Yaaaaaay! New friend!” She beamed up at Lawson and waved wildly.
“Will you at least allow me to escort you to the neighbor’s house?” asked Lawson.
Mr. and Mrs. Tyler looked at each other for an answer.
After a long moment, Mr. Tyler shrugged.
“If Ellie agrees, I see no problem with that.”
“Excellent.” Lawson took out his badge and knelt before the child. “Hello, Ellie. I am Special Agent Lawson with the FBI. May I escort you and your mother to your neighbor’s house tonight?” He showed her his ID.
“Shiny,” Ellie commented.
“Ellie, would you like the nice man to walk with us to Mrs. Yancy’s house?” Mrs. Tyler questioned.
Nodding, Ellie released her mother and threw her arms around Lawson’s neck.
Lawson grunted with surprise, then laughed.
“I think she agrees,” he said, using his free hand to regain his balance.
That settled it.
While Lawson and Mrs. Tyler delivered Ellie to the Yancy house, Mr. Tyler showed Baker and Wickerman to the family room and offered them soda and coffee. Both men politely declined the beverage offer but accepted the invitation to sit down. By unspoken agreement, Baker chose one armchair and Detective Wickerman took the other armchair on the opposite side of the room, leaving the couch for the Mr. and Mrs. Tyler.
Within ten minutes proper introductions and cards had been exchanged, and everybody settled in for the grim task at hand. Despite ample room on the couch, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler huddled in the center, hands clasped together.
“You obviously know somebody kidnapped your daughter this afternoon from the Erie National Wildlife Refuge,” began Detective Wickerman, taking out a notebook and a pen. Officer Stanley had delivered the official notification as soon as Finney cleared it. Wickerman looked relieved to only be the follow-up guy. “How much contact have you had with the kidnappers?”
“He called around five o’clock,” answered Rebecca Tyler.
“Tell me everything you can remember about the conversation,” said Wickerman.
Mrs. Tyler did her best to recall the kidnapper’s words and attitude. Baker paid little attention to her recount, relying on his partner to pick up on the important points. Instead, he spent his time studying Mr. Tyler. The man held himself stiffly. Baker wouldn’t expect him to be relaxed in such a situation, but he seemed unduly agitated, as if waiting for something bad to happen.
“Have you had any contact with the kidnapper or his people, Mr. Tyler?” Baker, asked, when Mrs. Tyler ended her short story.
The man froze, looking guilty.
“He had a phone delivered to my office with a note saying to call when the police arrived.” Mr. Tyler reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a black phone.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Zachary?” demanded Mrs. Tyler. She yanked her hand free from her husband’s grasp.
“He was probably instructed not to do so, Mrs. Tyler,” Lawson pointed out.
“It’s true, Becky,” said Mr. Tyler. “And before you ask, I was told to shred the note.”
“Do either of you have any enemies?” asked Wickerman. “Can you think of any motives someone might have for wanting to hurt you or your daughter?”
Both Tylers shook their heads.
“Should we call him?” wondered Mrs. Tyler.
Two kidnappings, cell phone deliveries, secret messages, old bodies …
This wasn’t Baker’s first kidnapping case, but by far, it won the prize for strangeness.
“We h
ave to,” Mr. Tyler said tightly.
“What else did that note say?” Baker asked.
Mr. Tyler’s jaw clenched.
“I can’t talk about that.” Without waiting for permission, he pressed some buttons on the cell phone and placed it on the coffee table.
“Wait. Give me a minute to have somebody set up a remote trace,” said Baker.
“No!” The protest came with equal force from both Tylers.
Baker felt the irrational urge to draw his gun and blast the phone.
This is stupid. We should never play by the bad guy’s rules.
Midway through the third ring, a male voice—tinny with mechanical alteration—picked up.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler and esteemed guests.”
“State your demands,” said Wickerman tersely.
“First, introduce your FBI friends, Detective Wickerman,” said the kidnapper.
“How do you—”
“Rule number one, detective: don’t bore me. If I get bored, people die.”
“How do we not bore you?” asked Lawson.
“I don’t think we’ve met. Care to identify yourself and your partner? You feddies always come in pairs.”
Lawson looked at Baker, saw him shake his head, and chose to ignore him.
“This is Special Agent Cory Lawson. My partner is Special Agent George Baker. Who am I speaking with?”
“Rule number two, agent: don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Why are you doing this?” Mrs. Tyler asked.
“What do you want from us?” demanded Mr. Tyler a second later.
“I already answered your question earlier today, Mrs. Tyler. I don’t repeat answers. Did you deliver my message to them?”
“Yes, but the names meant nothing to them,” said Mrs. Tyler.
“What names?” The question slipped out of Baker’s mouth before he could even think about it.
The man laughed.
“That’s a stupid question, but I’ll let it go since I find the agent’s surprise amusing.”
“He said you should drop your investigation or Karen would end up like Gabriel Dawson and Lillian Green,” answered Mrs. Tyler. “I told the policewoman who was here before.”
Baker tried not to react to the names, but he knew his deep frown gave it away.
The Keres Case (Heartfelt Cases Book 4) Page 3