by Jamie Hill
In the bathroom he scrubbed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth. He could use a shower but it’d have to wait. Low voices wafted from the other room and he wanted to see who was up, and what was going on. Following the aroma of coffee, Doug entered the kitchen.
Ben scrambled eggs while Stan buttered toast. “Morning,” Christine’s father glanced at him.
“Hey. Coffee smells good.”
“Here’s a cup.” Ben set a mug on the table. “Eggs and toast?”
“Sure, if you’re offering.”
“I am, and then I’m going to lie down. You can cook for the next shift of diners.”
Doug smiled. “I can probably manage that. No word from the chief or anyone?”
“Nothing yet. It’s early.” Ben set a plate in front of him.
“Yeah. Thanks, this looks great.”
“No guarantees, I’m one of the walking dead right now.”
“Get some shuteye. I’ll holler if anything happens.”
He waved as he exited the room.
“Thanks Ben.” Stan sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe I slept. That sofa is not comfortable, but somehow I managed. I’m sick about Lil and Ethan. I feel horrible that I could sleep without knowing where they are, and if they’re safe.”
Doug paused between bites of fluffy eggs. “It won’t help for you to get rundown and make yourself sick. We have to keep it together for Christine and Peyton. It could be a long few days here.”
“I know that, I really do. It’s just—Lil and I have been married for thirty-five years, and there hasn’t been one night when I didn’t know where she was. It’s a horrible, heart-wrenching feeling.”
“I’m sorry.” Doug didn’t know what else to say.
“No, I’m sorry. I knew the situation was serious when Chrissy and the kids changed their names and moved away. I guess I just didn’t realize how serious. Lil and I were wrong to communicate with Peyton on the computer. It all seemed like child’s play, ‘look what we’re getting away with’. We had no idea what we were getting into. Getting our family into. Oh, lord almighty!” His shoulders shook and he covered his face with his hands.
Doug groaned inwardly. Stan and Lillian had been instructed not to have any contact with their family. Yet they sat in their fancy house with the alarm system and pretended they were above the law, or reproach of any kind. It was a tough lesson. He prayed they didn’t have to learn it the hard way. “Stan, look. I told Christine and I’ll tell you. We can’t sink into despair right now. We’ve got to remain positive and hopeful. It’s the only way any of us can keep going.”
The older man composed himself and screwed up his face. “That damn Larry!”
Finishing off the last of his breakfast, Doug shoved the plate away and smiled. “I take it you don’t buy the theory that he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Oh, hell no! He knew very well. He was either greedy or naïve, to think he’d never get caught. Probably both.”
Doug refilled his coffee cup and offered Stan some, but he shook his head. “So tell me, was Larry always a pain in the ass, or was he a good guy to begin with?”
Stan pondered the question before answering. “Lil would tell you he was a bad egg from the beginning, but I didn’t think so. The man worked his way through college, and he treated our daughter well. I thought he was okay, myself.”
“The girls seem to think Rusty’s death may have pushed him over the edge.”
“Rusty?” Stan’s face softened. “Now he was good kid. You think Ethan is baseball crazy? You should have seen Russ. Lived and breathed the Cubbies. When he passed, we put some baseball cards in the casket with him.”
“I’m sure that was awful for all of you.”
“It was. Did the illness cause Larry to do what he did? I don’t know. That’s an awful lot of pressure to put on one little boy. I think Larry was depressed, and spending too much time at work. He was probably vulnerable to suggestion. I’m sure Martin Newsome used Larry to his advantage, until he got in so deep he couldn’t get out.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to get out. Sounds like easy money to someone who’s not thinking clearly.”
“Maybe. It was certainly shocking to all of us when we found out. Christine, most of all. The authorities questioned her to determine if she had any knowledge of Larry’s crimes. They cleared her immediately.”
Doug rose and loaded his plate into the dishwasher. “I’m glad. I hate to think of her going through that.” He bit back further comment. He could easily sound like a sappy schoolboy, and nobody needed to hear that.
“She’s a strong woman. Even so, I’d like to see her with a good man. Your friend is nice. Is he married?”
He froze, trying to decide what to say. He finally managed, “Nope, he’s single.”
Stan polished off the last of his coffee. “Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. When this is over, she and the kids will be able to come home. They won’t need Witsec or Topeka anymore.”
Doug’s back was to the man, and he closed his eyes. But what if I need her?
* * * *
Christine was shocked to discover she’d slept until nine-thirty in the morning. Still in her clothes, she hurried to the kitchen to check on new developments.
Doug and her father were engrossed in reading, Doug looking at his phone while her dad studied the morning paper. They both appeared freshly showered and ready to meet the day.
She felt exactly the opposite. The TV commercial with the elephant sitting on the woman’s chest came to mind. Christine felt as if she was suffocating, cooped up in the condo with no idea where her son or mother were. “Any word?” She kissed her father’s temple and nodded to Doug.
“Hey,” the marshal replied. “Nothing yet. I’ve texted my chief, and we’re still in waiting mode. Ben’s catching a nap.”
Her father smiled sadly at her. “How did you sleep?”
“Awful. And by that I mean I slept, but now I feel horrible about it. How could I sleep when Mom and Ethan are out there somewhere?”
He hugged her. “I felt the same way, sweetie. Just hang on. We’re going to get through this.”
Doug stood. “Can I fix you some breakfast? Eggs, toast, coffee?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
He frowned. “You have to eat something. Toast?”
“Okay, whatever.” She sat. “I’m grungy. I need a shower.”
“Have a bite first, then get cleaned up. You’ll feel better.”
Christine stared at him. “Only one thing is going to make me feel better.”
Doug smiled. “You sure about that? You haven’t tried my scrambled eggs.”
She didn’t want to laugh, but a chuckle slipped out. “Okay, one egg. Just one.”
“Great.” He started cooking. He finished and she was halfway done eating when his phone rang. He answered it quickly.
She heard his, “Yes, Chief,” before he moved to the other room to finish the conversation. Christine glanced at her dad. Neither of them spoke. Their eyes said all that was needed.
Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later, Doug pocketed his phone and looked at her. “The Chicago Witsec chief wants to see you this morning. I told him we could be there in an hour.”
Panic rose in her chest. “Why? What does he want?”
“He didn’t say, and it’s not my place to ask. I just agreed to get you there.”
“Oh God!” She turned to her father. “Something’s wrong! They didn’t want to tell me over the phone.”
He clasped her hand. “If something was wrong, wouldn’t they have asked for me, too? Don’t jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
“He’s right,” Doug offered. “I don’t believe that’s the reason. Rather than speculate, why don’t you get ready and we’ll go?”
Her mind raced. “What about Peyton?” She hated the thought of being separated from her daughter again.
“She’ll be fine here with your father and Ben. I
’m going to let him sleep until the last minute, then I’ll wake him. If she can sleep, let her.”
Nodding, Christine wandered into the bathroom. She pinned her hair up, showered and dried off before she realized she hadn’t brought her clothes in with her. Peeking into the hall she saw no one, so she wrapped the towel around her went out.
“Oops, sorry.”
She whirled around and spotted Doug a few feet from her. He didn’t look particularly sorry. His eyes appeared smoky, almost clouded, as he gazed up and down her figure. The glance quickly became one of appreciation, with a hint of pure lust. If she didn’t feel so lousy, she might have smiled. “Need something?”
He started to speak but paused, obviously checking his tongue.
Christine sighed. She knew it was a loaded question, but didn’t have the energy to edit every word she uttered.
He obviously understood and didn’t razz her. “Just checking, how long will it take you to get ready? I’ll wake Ben and give him some time to acclimate.”
She pulled the towel tighter to her chest. “Ten minutes. I’m not dressing up for Witsec, even if this guy is the chief.”
Doug smiled. “Jeans will be fine. See you in ten.” He rapped on the door where Ben slept.
Without further discussion, she hurried into her own room. Peyton hadn’t stirred so Christine dressed quietly and slipped out again.
Ben had joined the men in the kitchen. He couldn’t have gotten more than a couple hours rest, but it didn’t show. His dark hair was naturally shaggy, and his light beard growth appeared natural. Men have it made. Wrinkles made them look sexy, gray hair, distinguished. Those things made women look old. At that moment, Christine felt old.
“There she is.” Her father put on an air of joviality. She knew he felt as crappy as she did.
“I’m ready.” She nodded, hoping to cut through the small talk.
Doug stepped forward. “We’re going. We’ll be back, or I’ll keep you posted.”
“Good luck,” Ben said.
Her dad gave her a quick hug and kissed her cheek. “Be strong.”
Numb, she followed Doug into the garage and his SUV.
He punched an address into his G.P.S. and directions loaded.
“Is it very far?”
“Looks to be about twenty minutes.” He backed the vehicle out, adjusted his seatbelt and his sunglasses, then drove.
She stared out the side window. Once they got going, the main roads became familiar to her. Businesses she’d visited, stores she’d shopped out, a city skyline that felt as comfortable as an old fuzzy robe.
Topeka had grown on her, but it wasn’t home. Yet. She hadn’t decided what she was going to do when this was over. ‘Over’ seemed a long ways away. It was impossible to focus on the future until Ethan was safe in her arms.
A restaurant marquee caught her eye and she smiled. “Oh, look. Fuzzy’s Tacos. Ethan used to love to eat at that place.”
He glanced at it as they passed. “What kind of a name is Fuzzy’s? I see anything ‘fuzzy’ on my food, I generally don’t eat it.”
Christine shrugged. “I don’t know, but the food was good. When the kids were growing up, we’d eat out on Fridays and take turns choosing the restaurant. E always picked that place. They had another location closer to our house.”
Doug nodded. “We should eat there once Ethan gets back, before we go home.”
She studied him for a moment, then returned to gazing out the window. Thoughts flooded her mind faster than she could process them, but something about his comment struck her. Before we go home. Going home with Doug and her children sounded really good right then.
He pulled up to a building she knew housed federal offices. It wasn’t anyplace she’d been before, even when they joined Witsec. “Is this it?”
“That’s what the directions say.” He parked then glanced around before they climbed out.
Her stomach churned when he unsnapped the holster on his hip to make his gun more accessible.
“Let’s get inside.” He motioned to the door.
A shiver ran down her spine. “No kidding.”
They hurried into the building and rode the elevator to the sixth floor. Doug flashed his badge at the receptionist. “Marshal Doug Jackson. I’m bringing Christine Scott to see Chief Wilson.”
The petite, blond woman stood and motioned them to follow. “Right this way.” She lead them into a conference room with a large table and a dozen chairs around it. “Have a seat. The chief will be right in. Can I get you some coffee or a soft drink?”
“No thank you.” Christine dropped into the nearest chair, her knees shaking.
Doug shook his head and sat next to her. “No thanks.”
The woman smiled and nodded, then left them alone.
Christine glanced around the non-descript room. With no bookshelves or anything decorative, it could be the conference room in any one of a thousand offices. “Not real homey, is it?”
He chuckled. “The marshal service prides itself on anonymity. I’m sure the chief’s office is not nearly as impersonal. But he doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t want you to know him. So this serves the purpose just fine.”
“Great, thanks.” She smiled at him sarcastically. She didn’t want to know this guy either. She wanted to get her son and her mom, and go home.
He squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Before she had the chance to agonize and ask how he could be so sure, three men entered the room. Dressed in matching black business suits, her anxiety wasn’t eased.
Doug dropped her hand quickly and rose. “Chief. Doug Jackson.”
The shortest of the three men shook his hand. “I’m Wilson. Good to meet you, Marshal.” He turned his attention to her, but didn’t offer a hand. “Ms. Stewart. This is SSA Gilford with the FBI and Len McGuire with the district attorney’s office.” The men sat across the table from them.
The FBI agent spoke first. “Thanks for coming today, Ms. Stewart. First of all, let me assure you we’re doing everything we can to bring this situation to an end as rapidly as possible.”
Putting her nerves aside, she found her voice. “It’s Scott. And I hope so. Do you have any idea where my son and mother are?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “As a matter of fact, we’re confident we know where they’re being held. Our sources on the inside tell me both of them are fine, and haven’t been harmed in any way.”
“Sources on the inside?” Doug’s disbelief was palpable. “Are you kidding me?”
She placed a palm on the table top. “If you know where they are, why can’t you go in and get them out?”
“It’s not that simple,” the agent advised. “Believe me, we have a handle on this, and we know what we’re doing. Right now, there’s something we need you to do.”
“Anything. Name it.”
Len McGuire leaned back and flexed his fingers together. “Ms. Stewart, this situation changed considerably when we discovered your ex-husband skimmed a great deal of money from Valcor Corporation. We’d been proceeding under the assumption that Larry was a pawn in Martin Newsome’s game. Now that we know that assumption was false, and we have to reevaluate every aspect of the case.”
She thought her head might burst trying to follow their cryptic language. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
He leaned forward. “I mean that Newsome may not have been calling the shots after all.”
“He was the CEO of Valcor. If not him, then who do you think was the mastermind behind all this?”
Gilford spoke again. “Probably Sal Russo, to some degree. He’s the one with ties to the Columbian drug cartel.”
They were just names being bandied about. She couldn’t have cared less. Except for one thing. “So who do you think has Ethan and Mom?”
The agent shook his head. “We’re not certain on that aspect.”
McGuire added, “Who is not the most important issue right now. We’ve got to get a handl
e on the chain of command before the trial begins on Monday. Once we do that, the rest should fall into place.”
“And we need to know where Larry hid the money,” Gilford said. “He’s denied everything up to now.”
She bit her lip. “How are you going to get him to talk?”
“That’s where you come into play. We want you to go see him.”
Christine froze. “You want—me? Seriously? I haven’t seen Larry for nearly a year.”
Doug shifted in his seat. “That’s a horrible idea. She’s been through enough. Now you want to put her face to face with the man who involved her and the children in this mess?”
Gilford gripped the table. “You’re the only person he might be truthful with. He talks about you in prison, about winning you back once he’s released.”
She frowned. “That’s not going to happen. Especially now, after what’s happened with Ethan and my mom.”
“He doesn’t need to know that. Play on his fatherly emotions. Explain to him that whoever has Ethan wants their money back. If he tells you where it is, they’ve said they’ll free your son and mother.”
Doug shook his head. “He’s been in prison long enough to know there’s no honor among thieves. He won’t believe the kidnappers will be true to their word. None of us is gullible enough to believe that.”
Christine swallowed the bile and fear rising in her throat. Doug had just admitted her greatest fear. What if Larry tells me, and they still don’t release Mom and Ethan? And why should they, especially if they could be identified and caught? Smart kidnappers wouldn’t take the chance.
She shook her head. “I can’t do it.”
McGuire gazed at her evenly. “Then you might as well kiss your son and your mother goodbye.”
Chapter Nine
Metropolitan Correctional Center
Special Housing Unit
Chicago, Illinois
A complete and utter lack of information was one of the hardest adjustments he’d had to make in solitary confinement. With no one but the guards to talk to, he never knew what was going on in real life, or in the prison, for that matter.