by Bobby Cole
Maynard carefully watched her eyes, studying the depths of her suffering.
She continued in a soft voice, “Is my husband doing this?”
Maynard looked intently at her. He knew that she wouldn’t be hurt with his cousin’s crew—they weren’t murderers or rapists—but he didn’t know the Client’s intentions. Maynard could steal and sell anything without remorse, but seeing this helpless woman bothered him, the tug of conscience getting stronger the longer he was with her. My momma raised me better than this.
Maynard began thinking through potential scenarios of how he could help her. He noticed her necklace with a small, shiny aluminum duck band hanging on it. Maynard hunted ducks when he lived in Arkansas and immediately recognized it as a rare and highly prized Jack Miner band.
“Whereja get this?” he asked, reading the short Bible verse inscribed on it, Have faith in me.
“My husband shot the duck and told me the story about this missionary from Canada who bands wild ducks. I loved the story,” she whispered, frustrated to be talking about duck hunting, but realized that she was making a personal connection with one of her abductors, which couldn’t hurt.
“I’ve only heard of these, and I’ve seen dozens of federal duck bands, but this is a real honest-to-goodness Jack Miner,” Maynard reverently responded as he held it.
“Help me get out of here, and you can have it,” Kelly offered with hope in her eyes.
“No, no, I don’t want it… it’s yours… it’s special. Your husband must love you very much to give it to you. Most guys would keep it and show it off on their call lanyard. Believe me, I know. I’m a duck hunter.”
“Please, I have a family,” she begged. “Help me.”
“Where you from?” Maynard asked quietly.
“I grew up in Union Springs.”
Maynard’s eyes grew wide. “Who’s your daddy?” he spat out, surprised.
She told him.
“No shit!”
Maynard knew her father. He had worked for him at Bonnie Plant Farm until they caught Maynard growing marijuana in the corner of a greenhouse. Kelly’s father did not have him arrested, and Maynard knew that he could have. Maynard owed him.
Kelly said, “Small world, isn’t it?”
Her eyes had hope in them as she watched her captor processing this information. She watched him pick up a syringe of drugs and then squeeze it out onto the floor. He looked at her and then walked over beside the cot. He quickly glanced up the stairs to see if anyone was coming down or standing and listening. He turned to her and whispered, “I’m gonna help you get outta here tomorrow. You can trust me. Okay? Nod if you understand.”
Kelly emphatically nodded her head.
“Here, drink some Gatorade. No more drugs. But you gotta promise to be quiet. If someone else checks on you, you gotta act drugged and asleep. I’ll do my best to make sure I draw the straw to treat ya next time. We’re leavin’ tomorrow… and I’ll think of something. Okay?”
“Tell me the truth, is my husband responsible for this, and where are we? Tell me, please,” she whispered.
“We’re ’bout an hour north of Montgomery, and all I know is that somebody really wants to destroy your husband, and they want you to think he’s responsible for all this,” Maynard explained and inserted a teeth-whitening strip to soothe his frayed nerves.
Kelly’s mind was sluggish from the effects of the powerful sedatives she had been receiving for several days. Someone wants to hurt Cooper? She started shaking and crying. After a moment she quietly asked, “Is my husband all right?”
“Don’t know. The cops can’t find him.”
“Oh God!” She whimpered and started crying.
“Shh… be quiet. You gotta be quiet, or I can’t help ya. Look, you gotta trust me and don’t do anything crazy, or you’re on your own.”
Maynard looked toward the top of the stairs again and then leaned down to her ear and asked, “What’s your husband’s cell phone number?”
Kelly whispered it to him. Her eyes reflected an odd combination of fear and hope. Maynard swallowed hard and then put a finger to the plastic lips of his mask to signify silence. She nodded her understanding and then closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
When Sammy Davis Jr. went upstairs, she lay still and tried to think of who would want to hurt Cooper so much that they would go to this extent.
CHAPTER 83
By late afternoon, Cooper had endured the toughest day of the ordeal—each was actually getting more difficult than the day before.
Earlier, at 12:27 p.m., Cooper received another text from the captor, explaining that Cooper wasn’t allowed to ask any questions and that this person had “ALL the answers.” Cooper sent several replies. Not one was answered. He was enraged and frustrated.
Cooper sent Millie to discreetly talk to Donna, his family, and especially the kids, to try calming their fears about his absence. He knew they all had to be worried sick and confused.
At Millie’s, Cooper watched one of Kelly’s uncles, who Cooper hadn’t seen in a dozen years, claim on CNN that none of this surprised him. He said that he always suspected Cooper was capable of anything.
Cooper’s midafternoon conversation with James Longstreet revealed that Gates had been arrested on charges of illegal gambling and possession of a controlled substance. According to Longstreet, who had contacts inside the FBI feeding him information, Gates was singing like a bird to avoid prosecution and was asking for protective custody. He also learned that Gates believed his gambling debts were responsible for Kelly’s disappearance.
“Gates is responsible?!” Cooper asked, stunned by this turn of events.
“Apparently. The Alabama Bureau of Investigations and the FBI have been watching Gates’s bookie and wiretapping his telephone and office conversations for months. They arrested everyone involved a short time ago. When asked a question about the bookie, Gates started talking and wouldn’t shut up. Turns out, handcuffs were a real buzzkill for your boy Gates.”
“Good grief,” Cooper replied, staring out the windshield. “Get to the part about Kelly!”
“When they busted into his office, he was in the middle of a line of coke. That may have encouraged his mouth to outrun his brain,” James Longstreet replied incredulously.
“I’m gonna kill him!”
“Remember what I told you when you wanted to enter this partnership?”
Cooper sighed audibly.
James Longstreet continued without waiting for a response, “You only need a partner if you have a bucket of shit to eat.”
“Look, I really don’t need a lecture right now. I need to know about Gates!”
“Okay. The bad news is that the cops aren’t puttin’ much stock into what Gates is saying because of what they discovered in your office. They still think you’re their man. Apparently, Obermeyer lost his composure when he found out I’m your attorney. He wants you bad. I mean real bad. Pressure is coming down hard on him from high above. Anyway, the good news is that they’re checking into Gates’s story because there’s a taped conversation about screwing you out of your interest in the Tower Agency so that when it’s sold Gates would use that money to pay down his gambling debts. This is all good. It’s ammunition for us.”
“It’s unfreakin’ believable is what it is!”
“They’re about to put Gates’s bookie through the ringer to see what comes out. The FBI’s going to interrogate him.”
“I can’t believe this. Gates has been my partner and friend for years.”
“Cooper, he’s basically broke, and his family quit supporting him financially. I don’t think that they are going to make bail for him either,” James Longstreet explained.
“He’s always had money issues.”
“It’s more than that. Gates got cut off from any family money months ago, and with the sale of your business pending, he had to quit milking the agency too. But he never stopped gambling or drugging or anything.”
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“So how does Kelly’s kidnappin’ help him? I don’t have big money, and they’ve not even asked for money yet.” Cooper paused a moment, trying to think. “I’m gonna kill Gates myself.”
“Whoa, son. Just hang loose for a little while, let me get some answers. I’m working on some theories, and the Feds are about to put the heat to these boys.”
“What about this son of a bitch who’s been textin’ me?”
“No word yet. I have people on it though. Please try to calm down. We’ll get this straightened out.”
“Calm down?! The cops are after me. The media’s rippin’ me a new one. I’m worried sick about Kelly. My kids are freakin’ out, being told by folks on national TV that I kidnapped their mother and probably killed her, Gates is screwin’ with my life. I’ve got too much to think about… and to do. I don’t have time to be calm.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid. They know you’ll be gunnin’ for Gates once you find out he’s involved. He’s in jail. You couldn’t get to him anyway, and you gotta stay away from his house and your office. Just do your best to sit tight and wait for me to get some answers. Check back in a couple of hours. I’ll have more information then. I gotta take another call.” James Longstreet hung up without another word.
CHAPTER 84
FRIDAY—DAY 6
Jesse Ray was giddy to be leaving the old house. While packing his electronics, he sang out loud to keep from thinking about all the paranormal activity since they arrived. At night he thought he heard footsteps and had experienced many events that he believed were otherworldly. Once, while sleeping, he was convinced something grabbed his leg and tried to pull him from bed. Another night, while medicated on over-the-counter-pain meds, he thought he saw an old man walking slowly across the yard, carrying something. He kept this to himself and had not slept soundly since.
Clarence, too, had scarcely slept. He didn’t know what to believe, but did know that something to do with this house had him on the edge. He tried to shake it all off and act unbothered. But the fact was from about midnight to dawn each night, he thought he heard voices and stayed freaked out. So much so, he had decided he just wanted out of this deal. This desire figured strongly in his decision to drop the pursuit of a more profitable angle for this job. He had blamed the painkillers, but what had pushed him over the edge was an apparition he saw in the yard around two in the morning. A pale man wearing a black hat and overcoat was standing in the trees, looking at the house, and then it suddenly vanished. Clarence assumed it was his imagination, the drugs, exhaustion, or most likely a combination of all these. But it seemed too real to discount offhand. The man was gaunt with the appearance of someone straight out of the mid-1800s. The apparition seemed to be in black-and-white, not in color, which further confused and fueled Clarence’s wild thoughts. He didn’t tell the others, but swore to himself that he wasn’t spending another night in the creepy old house.
When the Client called, Clarence was jubilant. He and the rest of the crew were eager to get back to their relatively mundane criminal activities—robberies and burglaries, or really anything that didn’t bring to mind a haunted house.
“Jesse Ray, shut up singing and listen. You and Jenny gather up all your shit, wipe down your rooms, and get back to the hotel,” he directed with authority.
“Maynard, you clean up the den, wipe down everything… even if we didn’t touch it. We’ll take all the trash with us. You’re stayin’ with me until the Client gets here with the money.”
“What’s next?” Jenny asked. “Got any ideas?”
“Somethin’ that’s more our style. I’m open to suggestions.”
“That Florida home-shopping warehouse!” Jesse Ray exclaimed.
“Plan it out, and present it to me.”
“No problem. I am so outta here. I’m never staying anywhere old again.”
“At least you don’t have a ghost leaving you flowers,” Jenny added. Everyone wanted to laugh but didn’t.
“Larry and I will be there as soon as we get the cash. Okay, let’s get busy.”
Jesse Ray looked at Clarence and winked. His facial expression said that he had everything under control. Maynard took this chance to plead his case to stay a part of the group.
“You gotta keep me on, Dog. I’m multitalented!” Maynard added with a toothy smile.
“Show me some cleanup skills, and we’ll talk later. I’m ready to get outta here. The water’s even freakin’ me out. Smells like an animal died in the well.”
“That’s just sulphur,” Maynard explained. “Y’all obviously ain’t ever lived in the country and drank from a well.”
While gathering his things, Clarence remarked, “And I can’t wait to be someplace where the lights stay on till you turn ’em off.”
“That’s happenin’ to you too?” Jenny asked, with a bit of relief in her voice.
The crew glanced around at each other.
“At first I thought we were blowin’ fuses,” Jesse Ray added.
“I thought it was Larry King,” Jenny said as she crossed her arms.
“It ain’t me!”
“And we ain’t blown a fuse,” Jesse Ray said.
“Everybody just shut up and get your shit together so we can get the hell outta here,” Clarence ordered, glancing out the window, hoping not to see a haint.
CHAPTER 85
Cooper had been driving around and periodically turning on his cell phone to check for text messages from the kidnappers. EquuSearch turned him down since he was a prime suspect. He tried explaining about Gates, but they weren’t buying it. They did promise, however, to verify his story with the Montgomery police, and if the police gave consent for EquuSearch to become involved, they would contact him to get a recent photograph of Kelly and to have him fill out their missing person report. Cooper gave them Detective Obermeyer’s cell phone number.
Twice he had seen police cars, but since he was driving Haywood’s old truck, he didn’t rouse any suspicions. He was worried about being pinged but didn’t know of any other options. He glanced at his cell phone screen: 5:55 p.m. He let out an anguished groan. Darkness was falling across the city, and he was as low on options as he was hope. Cooper missed his family.
He was just about to turn off his phone when it rang. He recognized James Longstreet’s number and immediately mashed the green button.
“Yes, sir.”
“How you holding up, son?”
“Not great. Tell me you have some good news.”
“I wish I did. I just got a tip that the cops are planning to trick you into thinking they found Kelly.”
“What! Why?”
“So you’ll come out of hidin’. They keep thinking they have you located, but then you turn the phone off. They are chasing you pretty damn hard. They’ve got all their high-tech tools in play.”
“Shit!”
“Look, if you can’t trust the police, it really complicates the situation.”
Cooper let out a deep sigh that could be heard over the phone.
The attorney continued, “The consensus, right now at least, is that neither Gates nor his bookie is involved. My sources say the bookie looked and acted genuinely shocked when they questioned him. But he is a cold, hardened criminal, so we don’t know for sure. He’ll be tough to crack, but they have their best guys workin’ him hard. They’ll know one way or the other soon.”
“Hell, if he wasn’t at the police station, I’d interrogate the sonofabitch myself. I can make him talk. I keep thinkin’ about Gates, and I just can’t believe he’s behind this because he doesn’t have the balls or the brains.”
“I’m getting the facts as fast as things are happening and as soon as my source can safely relay any info, I’ll pass it on. Just stay low… and don’t get tricked.”
“I’m tired of waitin’. I’ve been doin’ nothin’ too long.”
“Just calm down. I keep saying this, but don’t do anything crazy. I did find out that the number texting you i
s from a prepaid cell phone. No way to trace it. Speaking of, I need to get you one. Where’s a discreet place we both know so that I can leave it? Don’t say any specific name. In case the police have been able to tap your phone. Just give me a detail that I’d know.”
Cooper exhaled, his mind racing; after a moment he asked enthusiastically, “How ’bout where you helped me train my first bird dog? Remember him?”
“Of course. Perfect. It’ll be behind the right-hand gatepost in an hour.”
CHAPTER 86
The Client’s iPhone was cradled on the dash, displaying a near eye-level portable version of his electronic shrine. Knowing that driving under the speed limit was much more suspicious to law enforcement than slightly over it, he set the cruise control at exactly three miles per hour over the limit and tried to relax. He grew excited with each passing mile marker as he headed to his family’s abandoned homestead in rural Coosa County, Alabama.
He would pay the gang with embezzled funds from the bank. It was so easy to spend stolen money. He had decided to take over the hostage and change the plan by asking for a ransom. He had to do something. The bank examiners had begun crawling all over his files and would soon learn that he had made dozens of spurious loans and kept the proceeds. His crime forced him to make additional loans to bogus companies to pay down the earlier ones, and now the cycle was catching up to him. It had just about run its course… unless he infused some serious liquidity, quickly. The Client had expertly painted himself into a corner, but milking Cooper would buy him some much-needed time.
The Client had lost focus. All he cared about now were his insatiable desires and fantasies. He was spiraling out of control. He wanted dominion over Brooke. He knew of her interest in Cooper. He read it in her diary that he had stolen months ago. His mind burned with jealousy and resentment when he read it. He was determined to annihilate Cooper, and he was willing to pay any price for his desires. Brooke would come to him when he had control of the bank and the Tower Agency. The focus was coming back, and it was all so clear. He would have two things she wanted.