It had to work. It was his only chance. There was no Plan B.
Twenty-two
When Sam walked into the Grandview Perspective a few minutes after nine Tuesday morning, the place was already bustling with activity. Sam nodded at Anne at the reception desk. She had the phone cradled between her ear and shoulder and gave Sam a thumbs up, hopeful that the weekend in Washington had gone well. Sam stopped at the foot of the stairs, thought a moment, shrugged her shoulders and gave a so-so sign with her right hand. She saw the look of disappointment that registered on Anne’s face. Sam mouthed the words “we’ll talk,” and headed down the stairs into the newsroom.
David was already at his desk and on the phone when Sam entered the newsroom. She had made it a point every morning since Wilson had been kidnapped to glance toward his office, hoping the light would be on. She wanted to poke her head inside to see him sitting at his desk typing. He would look up at her over the rim of his silver reading glasses and smile. Then she would have known it was a bad dream and that she had finally awakened. His office was dark; just it had been the day before. To Sam’s surprise, Nick’s office was also dark. She glanced up at the clock, but it was only ten minutes after nine. By the time Sam hung her coat, booted her computer and checked her e-mail, she could hear Nick on the phone.
She glanced over to David’s desk. He was looking in her direction. She nodded and he nodded back. They rose in unison, both holding reporter notebooks and ballpoints. He waited for Sam to reach his desk. He had traded his shorts, sweatshirt and ball cap for a pair of dark gray cords and a white Oxford shirt that buttoned at the wrists. His shirt was opened at the collar and tufts of his dark hair showed at the V in the neck. He was smiling in her direction, his ruddy complexion evidence that he had completed his four-mile run earlier that morning.
Sam, however, had neither the same glow nor energy when she woke this morning. She’d tossed and turned through what little sleep she’d managed to get, waking, it seemed, every few minutes, replaying over in her mind the hateful conversation with Esther in her bedroom before she left for the ferry and the look on April’s face when she learned she wasn’t coming with Sam to Denver.
“Baby, I’m so, so sorry,” Sam had said as she dragged herself out of bed just after seven. She fed Morrison, got in the shower and dressed for work. She was casual in tan chinos, a black sweater and leather Loafers. She had pinned her hair back away from her face.
When they met together in front of David’s desk, he leaned closer and whispered in her ear. She bent in to hear him. “Any new e-mails?”
Sam pulled away, pursed her lips and shook her head. They reached Nick’s door and stood at the threshold like bookends. Nick looked up from his desk and eyed them both. He held a coffee cup with a 7-Eleven logo. A jelly doughnut sat on a white napkin over a pile of newspapers. Sam couldn’t see the filling yet, but she knew it had to be cherry-filled. It was the kind Nick always wore on his mustache. He spoke first to Sam. “How was the trip?”
“Good,” Sam said. “Thanks for asking.”
Nick paused a moment looking between both of them and said, “What’re you two up to?”
David moved first and stepped into Nick’s office. “We need to talk to you.”
“Wilson?” Nick asked, and his eyebrows rose just above his glasses.
When he looked at Sam, she nodded.
He motioned them in his office. “Close the door,” he said to Sam.
David cleared a pile of magazines and junk mail off one chair, put the contents on the floor and sat down. Sam sat in the chair next to him and set her reporter’s notebook in her lap. She twisted her ballpoint pen in her hand. When she looked at Nick, he spoke to her. “Does David know what’s going on?”
“He does now,” Sam said and she told Nick why she had called him.
“You guys were here last night?” Nick asked, he looked from David to Sam and let his eyes rest on her.
Sam nodded. “I didn’t want to wait until this morning to see about the e-mail with everyone else in the office.”
“Sure,” Nick said. “Makes sense, I would’ve done the same. What did you come up with?”
Sam and David alternated telling Nick their news, including the threatening items left for Sam and Wilson’s voice on the cassette tape.
“I’d like to know how the hell they got in here,” Nick said.
When no one answered, Nick asked, “You have the evidence?”
“It’s in my desk drawer for safekeeping,” David confirmed.
“Mannequin hands, huh? That’s creepy,” Nick said. He looked at Sam in what she could say for the first time since the ordeal began was a look of true concern. “We need to keep an eye on you. Still think you’re being followed?”
Sam nodded. “That black sedan was in my parking lot last Thursday night and I left for Seattle Friday afternoon. That’s probably when they put that cassette in there, because I didn’t see the car in the parking lot on Friday when I left and I haven’t seen it since I’ve been back.”
For a time no one spoke. Sam and David sat erect in their chairs, leaning forward. Nick sighed deeply and sat back in his chair. He covered his mouth with his hands and began to stroke his mustache with the tips of his fingers, reminding Sam of the cab driver on Canal Island just yesterday morning.
“And you say this Juan guy, the mastermind of the smuggling operation, is the one who escaped?” Nick asked, his hands covering his mustache.
“That’s him,” Sam said and nodded. “He was probably in the sedan the night Wilson and I were grabbed out back. He’s no doubt the one who’s the brains behind this, too, and the one behind sending the first e-mail and all the other garbage I got.”
“Now he’s out for revenge against Sam and Wilson,” David added.
David and Nick eyed each other and nodded in unison. Nick removed the lid from his coffee cup. Steam rose from the cup as he took a sip as aroma from freshly brewed coffee filled the room. “Do you think you could work with the people you know at the Grandview PD without tipping your hand about Wilson?” Nick asked looking at Sam.
“What else can we do to move this thing forward?” David asked, after filling Nick in on their conversation last night about alerting someone at the police department.
“There’s got to be someone there I can talk to, I just can’t be certain who,” she said.
Nick shook his head. He went back to smoothing his mustache, lost in thought. “God, I wish I knew. Let’s see what Sam comes up with at the police department. I’m not sure there’s anything we really can do, but what we’re doing. I feel so useless just sitting on my ass while who knows what’s happening to Wilson, but their instructions were to wait. We can’t jeopardize that by going to the police.”
A nearly inaudible sound escape from Sam’s mouth and Nick and David looked at her. “How long do they want us to wait?” she asked. “Until we turn to stone?”
“I don’t know, Sam,” Nick said partially ignoring her comment. “If we do nothing, we could lose him, if we over do it and go to the police, we still stand the chance of losing him and you, too.”
Nick looked directly at Sam and she cringed. “And now these threats against you,” Nick said and shook his head. “We’re walking a fine line and once we get to the end of it, I still have no way in hell to know which way to turn next.”
“I think it’s a good idea not to say anything to the rest of the staff, at least until the end of the week.” David offered as a suggestion.
“I agree with David,” Sam said. “It’s just a few more days.”
Anne buzzed in on Nick’s line interrupting the momentary silence.
“Nick, is Sam in there with you?” she asked. Sam knew Anne well enough to detect a slight agitation in her voice and she felt uneasy.
“She’s sitting right here,” Nick said eyeing Sam.
“Her mother in-law is on the phone in hysterics,” Anne said into the intercom. “Said she needs to talk to Sam right away.
”
Sam felt her heart drop to her stomach. “Something’s happened to April.”
“Put the call through, Anne,” Nick said.
It rang. Nick quickly snatched the phone from the cradle and handed it to Sam.
“Esther, it’s Sam, what’s going on? Is April okay?”
She looked at Nick and David. Both were staring at her intently. Esther was speaking into the phone loud enough that they could hear the tinny sound of her voice. Sam shook her head, her brow wrinkled in confusion. She looked at Nick, then David. The phone cord was a black tight rope between them.
“Did I what?” Sam asked.
Esther’s tinny voice filled the room.
“Esther, April is not with me,” Sam said and she emphasized the word not. “The last time I saw her was yesterday morning when she was walking across the yard with you toward the bus.”
Sam was now trying to control her own fear, which was about to dissolve into hysteria that April might be missing and anger at Esther that she was accusing her of taking her daughter. “Did she come home from school yesterday?” Sam asked.
“Well, of course she did,” Nick and David heard Esther’s voice plainly. “And I put her on the bus this morning. I watched her take her usual seat, the second to the last one at the back of the bus. I waited like I usually do for the bus to turn the corner and then I walked back to the house.”
“Then what the hell happened?” Sam’s voice a mixture of fear and panic.
“Because I hadn’t called her in sick, the office just called and said she wasn’t in her first period class.” Esther’s voice was thick with apprehension and worry.
“Something must have happened when she got on the bus before it reached school,” Sam said, looking from David to Nick. “Did you call the police?”
“I’m going down just as soon as we get off the phone,” Esther said.
“Esther, go now,” Sam said and spoke firmly. “April is not with me.”
Sam tried to stop her brain from going into overdrive and imagining the worst. She closed her eyes, gripped the receiver hard with both hands and spoke. “Someone must have taken her before she got to school,” Sam said, her heart thudding violently as her mind raced through a chilling obstacle course of possibilities.
She opened her eyes to the stares of Nick and David, their mouths slack with foreboding. The look mirrored Sam’s feelings.
Sam and Esther spoke a few seconds more.
“Go to the police station and please, please, Esther, let me know the first minute you hear anything,” Sam said and she heard a click in her ear. “Esther accused me of taking April from school and bringing her back here,” Sam said and handed the phone back to Nick. “How could she think I’d be so stupid?”
The three looked at each other while a silence grew in the room like gathering darkness before a storm. David put his hand gently over the top of Sam’s.
“Do you think they could have followed you to Washington?” he asked, his voice edged with concern.
She looked down at his hand and studied it a moment. Her apprehension abated slightly at his touch. “I don’t know, David. I’m afraid to think of what’s possible with these people,” she said. It felt like it took all her energy to hold her head up and talk. “All I know is now those fucking bastards have my little girl.”
At that moment the desire for a drink hit her so intensely that she felt certain she would never be free of the yearning. She would give anything if she could cauterize the desire from ever returning.
“Excuse me,” Sam said and got up from her chair and pushed her shoulders square. “I have to go to the ladies room.”
Sam left Nick’s office without another word and walked to the bathroom. She closed the bathroom door, leaving the sounds of the newsroom behind. The quiet surrounded her until she turned on the faucet. She let the water run until it was too hot to touch. She pulled several paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them through. She closed her eyes and pressed the towels firmly against her face, only seconds passed before she began to sob, deep and heavy. The warmth felt soothing against her skin and she took a deep, shuddering breath. Sam repeated the process several times, until it brought a brief sense of calmness, however fleeting. She kept her eyes closed until she heard a slight knock at the door. She removed the towel and looked toward the door.
“Sam? You in there?”
Sam cleared her throat, “I’m here, Anne.”
“Can I come in?” Anne asked in a muffled voice.
Sam leaned into the mirror to compose herself. She wiped away her tears and quickly checked to make sure her mascara wasn’t smeared beneath her eyes. “It’s unlocked.”
Anne opened the door slowly and entered the bathroom. Sam turned and rested against the sink and the women stood facing each other. “Is everything okay?” Anne asked. “Your mother in-law sounded like a screaming banshee.”
Sam wadded up the paper towels and threw them at the wastebasket. It hit the rim with a dull thud and fell to the floor. Both women looked a moment at the wadded paper towels. When Sam spoke, it brought Anne’s eyes back to hers. “She thinks I took April.”
“What!” Anne’s voice was incredulous. “That woman really has it out for you.” Sam pursed her lips and shook her head, feeling hopeless. Anne was quiet a moment, knowing that something terribly wrong had occurred. “Sam, what’s happened?”
A strand of Sam’s hair had pulled away and had fallen in her face. Anne smoothed her hair away from her forehead. Sam looked away, and shrugged, desperate not to cry again. But Anne cupped her hands gently around Sam’s face. Sam bit her bottom lip, trying not to show her emotions. But she was alone now with Anne and it was okay to let her guard down, to explain what was agonizing her. Through more tears, Sam told Anne everything.
“If there’s not an Amber Alert out yet, there will be before long. They won’t be able to get away with this,” Anne said and gave Sam a tissue. She took it and blew her nose.
“All I know is,” Sam ended by saying, “is that now those bastards have my daughter and I won’t stop at anything to get her back.”
Twenty-three
Wilson opened one eye, feeling hazy and slow with sleep. At some point during the night, he must have found a position that suited him and drifted off in troubled dreams. He couldn’t immediately recall the shapes, figures and places that made up his dream. Then maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe he had started to hallucinate. Maybe these four walls, his captors, little food and the uncertainty of what could happen next were finally getting to him.
He was lying on his side. He grimaced as he tried to lift his head off the floor. His neck had gone stiff sleeping without a pillow. He rubbed hard trying to get the kinks out. It took several minutes of deep massaging, before he could move his head without pain.
He pushed himself off the floor to a sitting position, groaning as if he had aged thirty years over night. At least his nose didn’t seem to hurt. He looked around the small room. It must be morning. The sunbeam was back, falling in a long thin stream that stopped just short of his shoes. But what time of day, Wilson had no idea.
He took a deep breath. There was that faint odor again, a sickening smell he was certain was cat urine. At times it was stronger than others, as it was now. His thoughts might be becoming more disoriented, given his fatigue, stress and fear, but he was sure of that smell. He clearly remembered the discussion they had had in the newsroom when Sam was writing the articles about the drug bust: About the small room that seemed to be the nerve of the smuggling operation and about one of the byproducts of manufacturing meth—the take-your-breath-away smell of cat urine. Could it be that I’m being holed up in the very room that we were talking about? Could Sam know to look for me here?
For a minute, Wilson reconsidered the idea of trying to escape, just in case Sam shared his thoughts. But he decided to go for it. The first chance he had to run, he’d run. Wilson’s stomach growled. Cheese and crackers came to mind. He’d
never been crazy about cheese and crackers, but they sure had come to taste good lately. He could feel the waistband of his pants pressing against his bladder. If someone didn’t come to take him to the bathroom soon, they wouldn’t need to. Wilson decided that he would make a run for it this morning, if the little white-haired man came to take him to the bathroom. He’d have to do something soon, what little strength that remained in him was fading.
Wilson woke with a start as he heard someone unlocking the door, realizing he must have dozed again. His head had fallen to one side and the kink in his neck was back, more painful than before. He winced as he straightened himself against the back wall. The door opened and light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding him. He couldn’t tell which of his abductors had come to take him to the bathroom. He was going to use his hand to shield the glare, but discovered he didn’t need to when his captor’s tall, thick shadow blocked the light coming into the room.
It was not the white-haired man as he had hoped, but Fuzz Face. Wilson guessed Fuzz Face was his height, probably an inch or two more. His neck spread out into his shoulders and his arms were thick. He was carrying what looked like the kind of nightstick used by police officers. Wilson wasn’t sure he even had enough strength to manhandle the white-haired man. He knew he would be no match for Fuzz Face.
Fuzz Face walked into the room and stopped just beyond Wilson’s shoes. “You gotta take a leak?” he asked. As he talked, he tapped the nightstick firmly in his open hand.
Wilson nodded. “What do you think?”
“Get up,” Fuzz Face said and stepped back.
Wilson grunted as he tried to stand. He didn’t realize how stiff he had become from sitting on the floor. His body was slow with cold and the more he tried to move, the more it felt as though his muscles had begun to atrophy. His strength seemed to have disappeared. He couldn’t pull himself off the ground.
Revenge is Sweet (A Samantha Church Mystery, Book 2) Page 19