by Robin Caroll
Maybe the battery was dying. Or maybe he was somewhere he couldn’t get a good signal. She’d just take her shower and then try him again.
She glanced at the clock as she made her way into the bathroom. Caleb had officially been missing for almost four hours now. How could this have happened? Why hadn’t she gone to the police when she’d gotten the first letter? Whatever made her think she could handle it and take care of Caleb by herself?
She washed the tears away in the shower, shampooing her hair twice, just to say she did. After her shower, she brushed her teeth and slipped on walking shorts and a T-shirt, then headed into the bedroom.
Steam swept across the room, having made its great escape from the confines of the bathroom.
Felicia had been right—a hot shower had helped clear her head. But in doing so, her heart ached harder. While under the hot jets, she’d realized just how much Caleb had come to mean to her. Not just because he was the only family she had left. Not just because he was her half brother. But because they’d begun to form a relationship like she’d dreamed of when she agreed to become his guardian. And now she stood to lose him.
Father, please bring Caleb safely home to me.
She slipped her feet into sandals and paced. She checked the caller ID base—no call registered from anyone. Not the sheriff. Not the FBI. Not Jon.
She perched on the edge of the mattress and dialed Jon’s number again. It rang four times before dumping her into his voice mail. No way he’d ignore any call, much less hers. And he couldn’t still be out of range. Not unless…
She retrieved the business card the FBI had given her from the pocket of the skirt she’d been wearing before her shower. With no further thought, she lifted the phone again and dialed the number.
“Agent Ward.”
“This is Sadie Thompson.”
“Yes? Have you heard from your brother?”
“No. Nothing yet.”
“Ma’am, we’re working the case. We’ll call you as soon as we know something.” His impatience seeped into his voice.
“Wait. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Did you think of something that could help?”
“No. I’m calling about Jon Garrison.”
“Who?”
“The probation officer. Caleb’s probation officer.”
“What about him?” The FBI agent all but sighed over the connection.
“He left my house to go follow a lead. I think something’s happened to him.” Raw fear twisted inside her.
“Why’s that?”
“I called his cell phone and he rejected my call. I tried calling again and it eventually went to voice mail.”
Now the agent did sigh. “Ma’am, I’m sure he’s just fine. If you left a message, he’ll probably call you back. Now, I really need to get back to working on your brother’s case.”
She wouldn’t let him disregard Jon’s predicament. She knew something was wrong. “No. Something’s wrong. Didn’t you hear me say he went out to follow a lead?”
“A lead on what?”
“My brother’s case.”
The agent cursed under his breath. “What lead?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“We were looking into Derrick Roberts or Jack Kinnard. He could’ve gone to follow up with either of them.”
“Wait a minute. He’s a probation officer?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his cell phone number?”
She gave him the number. “But he’s not answering.”
“I’m not going to check that. Hold on a minute.”
She could make out the sound of keys on a computer keyboard clicking.
“I got it.”
“What?”
“All cell phones of government officers have a GPS in them. Right now, the satellite’s showing Mr. Garrison is moving.”
“Moving where?”
More clicking sounded. “Um, looks like he’s heading outside the city limits.”
Her heart clutched. “Toward the bayou?”
“Yes, wh—Look, I’ll call you back when we know something.” He hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye.
At least he’d figured out this was serious.
Sadie replaced the phone, her entire body shaking.
Something had happened to Jon and now he was going toward the bayou. Had he found Caleb? The blackmailers?
The murderers?
Sweet Jesus, watch over Jon and Caleb. Please. I love them both.
And as she whispered the prayer, she knew beyond a doubt that she loved Jon Garrison with everything she had. Just when she thought she’d cried until she had nothing left inside, tears streamed down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and laid her face on the mattress.
Darkness enveloped him as his right thigh vibrated. Jon couldn’t open his eyes for a moment.
Movement jarred him against hot metal and he jerked. His head hurt. The back of his neck hurt. Matter of fact, his whole body felt beat-up. He tried to swallow, but his mouth met with cotton.
Jon slowly blinked open his eyes. Attempting to hoist himself from his reclining position, Jon fell against the restraints holding his legs together and his hands confined. Fear surged through his soul as it all came back to him.
Jack Kinnard had him!
A quick glance around confirmed his fears. He lay tied up and gagged in the back of Kinnard’s beat-up pickup truck, a tarp of some sort covering him. The truck bounced and swayed, definitely not on a paved road. The smell of diesel exhaust and damp soil crept under the covering to tickle Jon’s nose.
God, I need some serious help.
What had happened? Jon pressed his eyes closed, even though he could feel his right eye swelling. He needed to clear his head, think. He remembered the phone call, running, slipping and falling, then nothing but blackness after that. Kinnard must have hit him from behind, knocking him out.
Now Kinnard was taking him somewhere. Well, Jon needed to do something. Get himself free so when the truck stopped, he could stand up to Kinnard. Or at the very least, get away from the man and his partner.
Jon scooted across the bed of the truck, pressing his back against the hump of the tire well. Anything to have some stability. The jarring metal grated against his spine, but he ignored the pain. He had much more pressing concerns.
Where could Kinnard be taking him? Remembering the phone call he’d overheard, Jon considered that he was most likely being taken to where Caleb was being held. At least he’d know if the boy was okay.
His right thigh vibrated again. Poor Sadie, she must be frantic. She had to be the one calling.
God, comfort her. Somehow, let her know I’m okay.
His phone! Kinnard hadn’t thought to check Jon’s pockets and remove the cell. He could call for help! If he could just get the phone out of his pocket…
But his hands were tied behind his back. He tugged and wiggled his wrists, but the makeshift cuffs didn’t loosen. By the rough feel, Jon could only guess that a nylon rope held his hands in place.
The truck took a sharp right, rolling Jon to the other side of the bed. Metal clanked against metal. Jon maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. Maybe he could use whatever was loose in the bed to get his hands free.
He shifted his bound feet, making large sweeping motions. He kept moving in a clockwise manner. His legs were tired, his back aching and his breathing coming in spurts, but he kept searching. Surely he’d hit upon something soon. As he made yet another semicircle, metal clattered.
Success!
Jon moved his legs slowly back until he felt an object under his calf. The truck hit a bump, bouncing him and the object a good three inches off the bed of the truck. He landed with a thud, the sound of metal tinkling hit somewhere behind him.
Great. He’d have to start all over. Please, God, give me a break here.
With a de
ep breath, Jon extended his body as much as he could and swept his legs across the bed of the truck. His thigh vibrated again.
His heart broke for Sadie. Oh, he wished he’d talked to her before he followed through on this harebrained idea. First Caleb went missing and now look at the situation he’d gotten himself into. If only he’d at least let her know how much she meant to him, how important and precious she was.
The truck made another sharp turn, rolling Jon across the bed again. And then it came to a shuddering stop.
Brring!
Sadie raced the last few steps to the kitchen and yanked the cordless off its base. It rattled to the counter. She pressed the talk button. “Hello.”
“Sadie? It’s Georgia. Are you okay?”
She sighed, disappointment covering her. “I-I’m sorry I ran out on you.” Her voice cracked. How could she tell anyone what was going on?
Felicia passed her a cup of tea.
“I was worried. Is there anything I can do?”
She was terrified there was nothing anyone could do. Dare she open up and let someone know she was hurting? Time to forget worrying about what others would think of her. “You can pray. My brother’s missing.”
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll pray for you and your brother.”
Sadie blinked. She hadn’t realized her assistant was a Christian. Georgia didn’t attend Vermilion Parish Fellowship. “Th-Thank you.”
“Do you need anything? Can I bring you over supper or something?”
“No, I couldn’t even think about eating right now, but I appreciate the offer. More than you know.” Sadie swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to be making return appearances quite often these days.
“I’ll be praying. You call me if you need something, girl. I mean it, I’m here if you need me.”
Sadie thanked her friend and said goodbye, hung up the phone, then stared at the caller ID. Why hadn’t she heard from the blackmailers, now kidnappers? Shouldn’t they contact her again? Or were they merely going to follow through with their threat and kill him?
She crumbled against the Formica counter.
Pastor was there in an instant, keeping her from falling. How symbolic…just like he’d kept her from falling back into her old way of life, now he literally kept her steady as he walked her to the kitchen table.
Felicia sat beside her, rubbing her shoulder. “Shh. It’s okay to be scared, terrified even. You don’t have to hold it all together for us.”
“Well, you might want to stiffen up because of who just pulled in the driveway.” Pastor nodded toward the window.
Sadie shot to her feet. “Jon!”
“Oh, no, I’m sorry. It’s the men the FBI sent.”
Great. Someone else to tell her she’d messed up everything by not reporting the letter as soon as she’d gotten it.
“Here, take a sip.” Felicia lifted the cup to her.
Not much for hot tea, Sadie took a short sip. A knock pounded on the door. Pastor moved in that direction. Men’s hushed voices filtered into the kitchen. Maybe Pastor would make them go away. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the charade of being calm. Not when everything within her screamed.
Pastor returned to the kitchen. “They’re putting the tracer on the phone in the living room.”
“Merci.” She forced herself to take another sip. “What do we do now?”
Felicia smiled. “Just like you told your friend, pray.”
EIGHTEEN
The tarp ripped away.
Jon squinted his eyes against the sudden light, even though dusk drew near. The tailgate dropped with a heavy thud. Kinnard leveled a gun at him. Not just any gun, but a forty-five Desert Eagle. Mighty powerful handgun. Powerful and deadly. All logic and reason fled, replaced with raw fear.
“Slide down here. Don’t try nothin’ funny or I’ll shoot you.” Tobacco spittle hung in the corner of the man’s mouth.
Complying, Jon forced his sore and stiff muscles into moving as he’d been instructed. When he reached the tailgate, Kinnard grabbed him by the collar and jerked him into a sitting position.
Jon swallowed against the gag in his mouth. Dear God, I’m not ready to die. Not here. Not now. Not like this. And not before I get to see Sadie at least one more time.
“Get on yer feet.” The barrel of the handgun wavered as Kinnard leaned to the side and spat.
Inching to the edge of the tailgate, Jon flexed his feet. He had no idea how long he’d been out, or riding for that matter, but his feet tingled. He jumped to the ground. His legs wouldn’t support his weight and he fell onto his side.
Kinnard laughed and nudged him with the toe of his steel-toed boot. “Some big man you are. Can’t even stand up. Ya wimp.”
Jon brought his knees up to his chest and rolled until he was on his knees. Kinnard jerked him up by the scruff of his neck. Jon swayed for a moment when Kinnard released him, then steadied. It felt like pins and needles shot through his feet, but he refused to fall again. Not before this man.
Lord, give me strength.
He glanced around, trying to get a sense of where they were. The bayou, that much was certain. Drops of water dripped from the Spanish moss draped over the cypress tress. The air smelled like rain and fish, both clean and polluted at the same time. A little wood-planked shack nestled against trees, as if tucked into a forest. He hadn’t a clue where he was; he never ventured far out of town and surely not out into the bayou.
Kinnard waved the gun in front of his face again. “I’m gonna remove the rag from your mouth. You scream or start talkin’ without me askin’ you a question, it goes back in or I shoot ya. Got it?”
He nodded. As if he’d scream. Who’d hear him out here?
With the roughest motion possible, Kinnard ripped the rag from his mouth and tucked it into his pocket. Jon wet his lips, trying to get rid of the grease taste. By the looks of the rag, Kinnard used it to clean tools or something. That alone was enough to make him want to gag, but he was too scared Kinnard would shove it back in his mouth if he retched.
“Now ya wanna tell me why you was snoopin’ ’round my place?”
Jon’s mouth was still dry. He swallowed hard.
“I asked ya a question.” Kinnard leaned and spat again. “I want an answer.”
Oh, God, what do I say? Give me the words.
“Well, I came by to ask you a few more questions, then remembered I had an appointment.”
He never saw the back of Kinnard’s hand coming. It connected with the side of his head, the sheer force pushing him to the ground again. The sharp taste of metal filled his mouth. Jon rested his head in the damp ground and spat. Blood painted the grass red.
“Boy, don’t ya lie to me.” Kinnard grabbed Jon by the collar again and yanked him upright in one fluid motion. “Ya ran when you saw me.”
Jon wobbled as he fought to keep his balance. “You started chasing me.”
“Because ya ran.” Kinnard pointed the gun right at Jon’s head. “Now tell me why ya were nosin’ ’round my place. And don’t lie this time.”
The front door of the little shack swung open and slammed against the wall. “What’s taking you so long—” Lance Wynn froze on the top stair. “What’s he doing here? He knows who I am, man.”
Lance Wynn?
“Didn’t have a choice. Found him nosin’ ’round my yard. He ran.”
“So you brought him here?” Lance descended the steps and ambled across the soggy ground. “This ruins everything. No way can we pay him off to keep his mouth shut like we can with Caleb.”
Jon blinked, trying to think. The kid was involved with all this? Why? Why would he set out to sabotage his father’s business? Especially when he was trying to get back in his father’s good graces?
To get back in his father’s good graces.
“Don’t ya worry ’bout that. I can handle this.” Kinnard spat again.
Now Jon understood. Lance started all this to get his father in a
bad position. Then, he’d sweep in and help in the situation and the sabotages would stop. He’d be the saving grace to his father and get back in his father’s will.
Lance narrowed his eyes. “Why were you poking around his house?”
“That’s jest what I asked.” Kinnard nudged Jon with the gun. “And we want the truth this time.”
Maybe the truth wouldn’t be so bad. “Well, I came because I wanted to talk to you again, follow up on our previous conversation.”
Lance glanced at his partner. “You talked with him before?”
Kinnard spit. “We talked about the oil company.”
“What’d you tell him?” Lance groaned.
“That’s not important.” Kinnard refocused on Jon. “What’s important is what ya were doin’ at my place.”
“I wanted to talk with you some more. But before I got to the steps, I heard a dog barking out back. It sounded like it was coming from your yard, so I thought it was your dog. And then I heard voices, so I figured you were out back and wouldn’t hear me if I knocked.”
Kinnard nodded. “Yeah, so?”
Jon swallowed. “Well, I figured I’d just go around back and talk with you, but then my cell rang. My girlfriend called and I needed to go to her place, so I turned around and headed back to my car.”
Lance glared at Kinnard again. “And because of that, you tied him up and brought him here? How stupid. He didn’t know anything and now he does.”
Kinnard waved the gun. “Then why’d ya run?”
Jon shrugged. “When you came out the front door, I realized I’d been wrong and it was probably your neighbor I heard in the back. I wanted to explain and talk to you, but you lunged off the steps and came at me. What else was I supposed to do?” He nodded at the Desert Eagle. “And looks like I was smart to run from you, don’t you think?”
Please, God, let them not ask me any more questions.
“You moron.” Lance punched Kinnard’s shoulder. “You’ve made a mess of everything. First Daniels, now this.”
Kinnard pivoted to face Lance. “I said I’ll take care of it.”