“The conjunction I used was ‘or,’ Mrs. Tyler. It’s a very important one, please remember that.”
“Who are they?” asked Mr. Tyler.
“Ask your agent friends. They should know. Karen’s life depends on it.”
Every eye fell on Baker, some accusing, some curious, all wanting an answer.
“Dawson was a murder victim. I’m assuming Green was the same.”
“She was,” confirmed Detective Wickerman, sounding hoarse.
Mrs. Tyler leaned heavily against the couch and shut her eyes like that would make the day go away.
“That’s a pretty oblique way to deliver a death threat. Why bother?” wondered Lawson.
“Your questions are improving. I was kidding before, you know. I sometimes lie compulsively. It’s a gift and a curse. You see, it’s customary to demand the cops and feddies back off, but that’s the last thing I want. Oh, I want an excessive amount of money, of course—one million dollars delivered a week from the time I took her to be precise—but there’s something more, something much greater. Figure it out. I’ll be in touch. Happy hunting.”
The call ended.
Before anybody could speak, the phone chimed with a text message. Mr. Tyler checked it then walked over to the TV and plugged his phone in with a small cord he pulled from his pocket.
“What are you doing?” asked Mrs. Tyler.
“Getting the proof of life he promised,” Mr. Tyler replied sadly.
Seconds later, the TV turned into a giant version of the phone’s screen. Baker and the others watched Mr. Tyler click through various options until he came to a web link. The screen turned black then filled with bright light illuminating the figure of a girl sitting on a cement floor.
A collective gasp filled the air.
“Wave to your parents, Karen,” said the mechanical voice.
The camera panned in and another light source lit the girl’s face. Red bands marked where her wrists had been restrained with thick tape. She looked exhausted but unharmed. Blinking against the new light, she waved.
“How do I know this isn’t a recording?” asked Mr. Tyler. His shaky tone betrayed his belief.
“Ask her some questions, or if you would prefer, let her speak.”
“Karen, are you—”
“Boring,” interrupted the man in a sing-song tone. “I expect better from you, Mrs. Tyler. That’s your last warning.”
Karen smiled nervously.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Karen, I’m going to give you a simple test, okay? Nod if you’re up for it,” said Wickerman.
Karen’s eyes flicked to the right then centered on the camera again, but she followed the instruction.
“I want you to count backwards from a hundred by seven, will you do that for me?” asked Wickerman.
The teenager’s smile twitched.
“I’m no good with numbers but I’ll try. One hundred. Ninety-three. Eighty-seven—no,
eighty-six. Seventy-nine.”
“Are you convinced?” asked the kidnapper.
“One more numbers test, if you please,” said Wickerman. “Karen, I want you to copy a pattern with your fingers. Show me four, two, five, one, one, three.”
Karen copied the pattern exactly.
She’s alive, but for how long?
Chapter 5:
The Calm before the Storm
Davidson Residence
Fairview, Pennsylvania
Rachel Parker stopped in the threshold, took one look at her friend tucked into a rocking chair, and struggled hard to not burst out laughing. Her face contorted with the effort as her eyes swept down from Ann’s matted light brown hair to her dull, sleep-deprived expression. Letting her gaze continue downward, Rachel noted the wrinkled, charcoal gray, FBI T-shirt, gym-worthy shorts, and the mismatched fuzzy socks adorning Ann’s feet.
“Hello there,” Rachel said, settling for a wide grin. “Your mother said I would find you in here. I didn’t realize I’d find you in such … fine attire. Pink and green fuzzy socks, really?”
Ann Duncan lifted her gaze from the infant sleeping across her chest, blinked slowly at Rachel, and smiled faintly.
“My sense of fashion is evolving.”
Rachel took three steps closer to her friend.
“My dear Ann, your sense of fashion was always lacking, but this is called devolving.”
“Whatever,” Ann said languidly. “Just so we’re clear. If you wake this child, I will reconsider my policy on not shooting friends.”
Laughing, Rachel covered the remaining steps between them and leaned close to kiss Ann on the cheek and deliver an awkward half-hug.
“Patrick promised me you would be gun-less in here.” She pulled back and winked. “Trust me, I asked. I remembered that the first few months of childrearing can be challenging.”
“Challenging? What makes you say that?”
“Fuzzy socks that don’t match,” Rachel answered.
“Pfff. I’m on vacation. I spend days lounging about and nights—”
“Jumping at one tiny mass of humanity’s every screeching whim,” Rachel finished with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “When did you get in last night?”
“Late. One, maybe two, something in the a.m. when decent people are sleeping,” Ann replied.
“Was anybody up to greet you or did Patrick have to use his special skills?” wondered Rachel.
“Nick let us in,” Ann said. “My brother rarely meets the definition of ‘decent people,’” she explained in response to Rachel’s raised right eyebrow.
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
“Spoken like woman with no baby brothers,” said Ann. “What time is it?”
“A quarter to noon.”
“The party’s not until two. What are you guys doing here so early?”
“We came to help with the setup and last minute stuff,” said Rachel.
“Not that I’m ungrateful, but this party’s partly for you. I told Jon we could handle the details.”
“And he believed you, but as you well know, men have a different concept of these sorts of things,” Rachel answered. “I knew you would need rescuing, so here I am.” She deftly scooped up the slumbering infant. “My first task is to reacquaint myself with this gorgeous girl while you shower and freshen up.”
“Thanks, Rach,” Ann said, peeling herself out of the rocking chair.
“And put on some decent clothes,” Rachel added, slipping into Ann’s rocking chair spot.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” asked Ann, truly bewildered. She gazed down at her ensemble.
“This is a party, girl, show some standards.”
“These are my new standards. Amanda has an equal opportunity spit-up policy. So I figure why ruin the good stuff?”
Chuckling, Rachel shook her head.
“Oh, Ann. Honey, we need to get you back to work pronto so you can relax a little. This kid’s running you ragged.”
“I should have known to stop after one child, especially one as easy going as Joseph,” Ann commented.
“Yes, well, some of us are slower learners than others,” Rachel said. “Now, off with you. I expect you back here in half an hour with at least three outfits for me to approve.”
***
“Why don’t you join them?” Jonathan Parker asked, referring to the lightsaber melee and water gun battle taking place in the Davidson’s backyard. He expected Malia Ayers to jump, scream, or at least flinch, but she merely turned and looked at him calmly.
“I don’t know the rules,” said Malia. She studied the small black object in her palm then put it on the table and picked up another to study.
“Have fun. Don’t render anybody unconscious. Duels stay in the yard, and don’t take the water guns into the house. I think that about covers it,” said Jon, smiling at the thin, dark-haired child.
Squeaks and squeals of delight and surprise mingled with shouts of challenge and defiance.
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“I’d rather figure out how this works,” Malia said, referring to the electronic tracer she had just dismantled. “Your design is intriguing.”
“If you like it so much, you can keep it. I’ve got plenty more at home.”
“How long do they take you to make?” inquired Malia.
“The time can vary,” Jon answered. “It depends on what I need from the tracer, but see here, this is no way for a young lady to spend a sunny afternoon. I’ll email you my notes later if it means that much to you.”
“Promise?” Malia’s smile held undue triumph.
“Promise,” Jon said, crossing his heart with a finger.
How did I even get talked into showing her the tracers?
“Espionage lessons can continue later. For now, I’ll lend you my water weapon,” said Jon. “I need a break anyway. Just stand back and blast the lightsaber junkies. They have a very limited range of retaliation,” Jon reported. His smile turned sly. “And very strong conditioning on the subject of hitting girls. If you run fast enough, you should be fine. And if things truly turn desperate, jump into the pool. It’s a safe zone.”
“I shall do that. Thank you, Mr. Parker,” said Malia, accepting the water gun with both hands and running to enter the fray.
“There’s something wrong with that child,” Jon muttered.
“How so, dear?” asked Rachel from behind.
Jon leapt a good foot in the air, spinning like a startled cat, and just barely refrained from screaming.
“Woman, if I’d been holding a soda, you’d be wearing it right about now.”
Rachel stepped close and brushed his lips with a kiss.
“I know. That’s why I made sure your hands were beverage-free before attempting an approach. I wanted to prove a point. Do you really think it’s a good idea to re-qualify with a handgun?”
“I was good with one once upon a time,” Jon said. “Though admittedly, I always preferred rifles.”
“I know, but things change,” Rachel insisted. “You’ve changed.”
“Oh, have I?” asked Jon, flashing his wife a wicked grin. “In that case, it won’t be out of character for me to do this.” He scooped her up and walked to the pool’s edge, ignoring her protests.
“You’ll regret this, Jon Parker,” Rachel declared.
Jon laughed.
“Shall I count to three or just toss you in?”
“I wouldn’t do it at all,” said Patrick Duncan, looking up lazily from a paperback mystery. He carefully inserted the bookmark and placed the book on the table.
“Why not?” asked Jon, turning to face his friend.
“Because it’s bad form to throw a woman into a pool on her birthday,” said Able Davidson. Ann’s father put down the newspaper he had been reading.
“It sets a bad example for the children,” added Carol Davidson. Ann’s mother set a huge birthday cake down on the shaded picnic table.
“You might not get birthday cake if you do,” suggested Nicholas Davidson. He reached to steal some frosting from a cake corner and had his hand smacked by his mother.
“You’ll get wet and miss the presents,” said Joy Davidson, also brushing her brother’s hand away from the frosting.
“Valid reasons all,” Patrick acknowledged, “but that’s not what I meant.”
“Rachel’s surprisingly inventive with shaving cream retaliations,” Ann explained, approaching the group holding a groggy baby. “Bobby Fink once threw Rachel in a pool and his car was never the same again, inside or out.”
“How do you know about that?” Rachel asked, staring hard at Patrick.
“I told him as a warning when he tried the same shenanigans on our honeymoon,” said Ann.
“What exactly did she do to the kid’s car?” asked Jon, shifting his hold on Rachel.
“Just a little detailing, dear,” said Rachel, patting her husband’s cheek.
Jon promptly set Rachel on her feet.
A collective sigh of relief drew every eye to a cluster of children standing on the grass, inches from the patio.
“Close,” declared Andrew Parker. He held his red plastic lightsaber like it was a baseball bat.
“We thought you were gonna do something gross like kiss her,” explained Jason Parker. He closed his green plastic lightsaber and hung it from the waistband of his swim trunks.
“Is normal behavior,” Marina Nardin told the younger children. She folded the plastic banistick—a club-like weapon that expanded like a Chinese yoyo—into its smallest setting and returned the weapon to Jason.
“What an excellent idea,” said Jon, putting his arm around his wife’s waist and drawing her close. “How ’bout it, birthday girl? You up for a kiss?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips.
The older Davidsons chuckled and clapped. Nick whistled. Joy slapped her brother’s arm again. Ann and Patrick just smiled, and a resounding “Ewwww!” came from the Parker boys.
“All right, people, show’s over. Let me at that cake,” said Rachel, blushing fiercely.
“It’s not just ‘a cake.’ It’s a light, delectable royal retreat for your taste buds,” said Nick.
“I’m surprised you know the word ‘delectable,’ Nick,” Joy commented.
Nick ignored his sister.
“It has three layers of light, fluffy vanilla cake separated by a thin layer of Bavarian cream and a juicy layer of fresh strawberries with a hint of jam for texture.”
“How did you become the cake expert?” Rachel asked.
“He’s been salivating over the label since he woke up,” Joy explained. “It’s the cake I’m considering for my wedding. I made the mistake of taking Nick with me on the tasting since George had to work.”
Lawn chairs, blankets, and beach towels were pressed into service to accommodate the guests. The hosts, Carol and Able Davidson, organized the distribution of cake, napkins, and plastic forks. They received unsolicited help from their two foster daughters, seventeen-year-old Marina Nardin and eleven-year-old Malia Ayers. The Davidsons’ unmarried biological children, Joy and Nick, worked crowd control while the honored guests sat and enjoyed the cake.
The Parker clan consisted of Rachel, Jon, and their three children: Jason, Andrew, and Caitlyn. The youngest Parker contented herself with staggering around in the outdoor playpen and screaming at random. Ann Duncan, eldest of the Davidson offspring, toted her thirteen-pound constant companion, Amanda, and flitted from person to person making sure everybody was comfortable. Ann’s husband, Patrick, and young son, Joseph, rounded out the crowd. Missing due to work obligations were Joy’s fiancé, George Baker, and Nick’s girlfriend, Claire Bennett.
Once cake, ice cream, and copious amounts of watermelon had been consumed, the partygoers moved to the grass, taking blankets, towels, and portable chairs with them. Ann went inside and put Amanda in the crib to continue napping in peace. Jon and Patrick handled seating arrangements and moved the presents outside. Two piles grew steadily, one for Rachel and one for Joy, whose birthday wouldn’t be for another few weeks. A major miracle had scarcely allowed for one day when most of the Parkers, Davidsons, and Duncans could gather, let alone trying to repeat the feat less than a month later.
Joy Davidson and Rachel Parker took turns opening gifts. Joy received a fancy coffeemaker from her parents. The children were unimpressed until convinced it could handle hot chocolate orders too. Then, Rachel got two fine examples of finger-paint art from her sons. Next, Joy opened Nick’s gag gift of a stuffed elephant that made farting noises—which impressed the Parker boys—and real gift of a day spa gift certificate. Ann handed Rachel an envelope that contained confirmation papers for a six-night, seven-day vacation to Orlando, Florida.
“It’s too much,” Rachel protested.
“I’m just the messenger,” Ann assured her. “Many friends, relatives, and friendly strangers were tapped to get that gift.”
“What is it?” demanded Andrew.
&n
bsp; “What’s it mean?” asked Jason, not to be outdone by his little brother.
“Thank you.” Rachel squeezed Ann’s hand and explained, “It’s a piece of paper that means we’re going on vacation in less than a week.”
Once the boys understood, they cheered the gift’s awesomeness.
Patrick handed Joy her next gift, also an envelope.
“Sorry, it’s probably not going to beat that.”
“That’s fine. As the middle child, I’m used to such disappointments,” Joy said, heaving a sigh. She grinned at her parents to let them know she was joking and opened the envelope to reveal an impressive wad of cash. She quickly thumbed through it. “Wow, that’s too much.”
“Same spiel I gave Rachel,” said Ann. “You’ve only got yourself to blame. You’re very difficult to shop for.”
“I padded it with a few dozen ones to make you feel better,” Nick admitted.
“Thoughtful as always,” Joy replied. She picked up a ball of discarded wrapping paper and sent it sailing toward Nick’s head.
“What you buy with money?” asked Marina.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Maybe you can help me,” said Joy.
“Can we go play now?” asked Jason.
“I think there’s still one more gift to be given,” Ann commented. “Right, Jon?”
“How did you know?”
Ann shrugged.
“I’m a trained investigator … and I might have seen you and Patrick plotting something over by the grill.”
“Ann hates surprises,” Nick informed the world at large. “She once drew Joy and me a map to each one of the hidden Easter eggs. It’s hard to surprise her.”
“I love surprises,” said Rachel with a subtle hurry up motion aimed at her husband. She must have sensed the youthful patience wearing thin around her.
Patrick tossed Jon a small package he had tucked in the folds of the blanket he sat on.
Jon caught the package and delivered it to Rachel.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you like it.”
Rachel removed the bright birthday paper and opened the jewelry box. Nestled inside, she found a sterling silver bracelet bearing six charms. The two end charms were both halves of a heart bearing an initial, one said “R” and the other said “J”. The four charms in the middle were puppy dogs alternating with daisies. The puppies bore the initials for Jason and Andrew, and the flowers held an “E” and a “C,” for Emily and Caitlyn.
The Keres Case (Heartfelt Cases Book 4) Page 4