Kidnapped Hearts

by Cait Jarrod

  “Uhh.” She stood as he pushed past her to enter the elevator.

  The information Agent Dennis gave him kept echoing in his head, and his concern for Pamela heightened. Anger flowed through Jake’s veins. Agent Lever had a lot to answer for. He hated to think what he would do if he came across him.

  As Jake reached the front entrance of the hospital, Dennis was already waiting in the car.

  “How’d you get here so fast?” Jake asked, climbing into the passenger seat.

  “I was driving over when I called you. Here’s your new phone and the information Lever had gotten concerning Ms. Smith.”

  Jake flipped opened the file, scanned the contents, then called the office.

  “Fredericksburg Office,” the office secretary responded.

  “Missy, dispatch an APB out on a white 1998 Buick Century. License plate Charlie, Alfa, Foxtrot, Echo One. C.A.F.É.1,” Jake read from the file. “Two white females, Ms. Pamela Young and Ms. Charlene Smith.”

  “Right away.”

  “Is the Director there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Larry?” Jake drummed his fingers on the dashboard.

  “Not yet.”

  “Damn, where is everyone?”

  “Agent Downs is in.”

  “Hold on.” Jake covered the phone and turned toward Dennis. “Can we trust an Agent Downs?”

  Dennis shrugged. “Harry Downs. You wouldn’t think so with a name like that, but he’s clean.”

  “Patch me through,” Jake said into the phone.

  Agent Downs picked up the line.

  “Downs, Gibson here. A Charlene Smith has abducted a civilian, Pamela Young, to an unknown location. Get all the available agents together on the Wine/Jameson/Young case. Convene in the conference room ASAP.”

  “On it.”

  “Also, put up a roadblock within a twenty-mile radius and alert the airports and railroads. Put a trace on Young and Smith’s cell phones. Missy has Charlene Smith’s tag.”

  “Roger that.” Click.

  Jake dialed Pamela’s cell phone. No answer. Fuck

  ****

  Pamela’s eyes flickered open as she heard the crackle of wheels on gravel. She looked out the passenger window. The pain in her head made it difficult to see, but she spotted a cabin ahead. The car halted between it and a hill covered with pine trees.

  “Get out!” The man poked Pamela with the gun, urging her on.

  Charlene and Pamela simultaneously opened the car doors and slid out. Pamela touched the bruise on her cheek and scanned the area. Woods blanketed three sides of the cabin. “Where are we?”

  He grunted and pointed his gun toward the back of the cabin. A brown leather jacket came into view, a Scorpion. They were in huge trouble.

  A beat up car was parked behind the cabin, the engine running.

  “Get in!”

  Charlene and Pamela climbed into the backseat, hoping the Scorpion would sit in the front. The back door opened, and his thigh pressed against Pamela.

  Hands shaking, Pamela clutched her knee with her good hand and stared out the window past Charlene’s bobbing head. Charlene was crying so hard, her head jerked with every breath. Pamela swallowed and prepared for the worst and prayed Jake would find them quickly.

  The car turned out of the driveway and took a right. They were heading up the mountain. Were they going to push them over? She grimaced and pinched her lips together.

  Charlene eyed her and moved Pamela’s hand from her knee.

  Pamela hadn’t noticed the death grip she had on herself.

  The car stopped on top of the mountain. Two old ranger cabins stood in a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. They stopped, and the man behind the wheel slid out then opened their door. “Guido, unlock the cabin,” the driver ordered as Pamela straightened.

  The Scorpion that held them at gunpoint for the long ride crossed to the cabin closest to them.

  Pamela looked at the dark skinned man standing beside them, no jacket.

  “Get in there,” he demanded and nudged them with his gun to the door.

  They inched over the threshold. The only source of light was from a small window covered with bars. Pamela glanced around the interior. No furniture, no kitchen, no bathroom, simply dirt, and probably bugs and spiders.

  The man named Guido shoved her inside. The left side of her body slammed against the wall, then she fell to the dirt floor. Charlene hit the wall.

  The door banged behind them, dividing the women from the scumbags. The sound of the door being bolted echoed.

  Pamela shifted. When her side hit the wall, a sharp pain stabbed her in the midsection.

  Charlene looked out the window. “One of the monsters is running down the mountain.”

  “I hope he falls and dies.” Pamela was surprised at how much she meant it.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlene said.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Charlene leaned back against the wall. “I own a café in ColonialBeach.”

  “That would explain the excellent recommendation.”

  Through the shadows, Pamela watched her.

  Charlene pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “My husband and I bought the café five years ago, and two years ago, Andrew left me and my son debt.”

  “How old is your son?”

  Charlene’s voice trembled. “Seven.”

  “Where is he?”

  “My Mom watched him when I worked,” Charlene sobbed.

  “Watched, as in past tense, as in not happening anymore?”

  She swiped at her tears. “I refused to help Jameson kidnap you.”

  “What?”

  Charlene cleared her throat. “Jameson said if I helped him get inside your café, he’d forgive the loan and leave me alone.”

  “You borrowed money from him?”

  “Yes, my husband left us with horrible credit. No banks would give me a loan. When I thought the bank would foreclose, this real nice man…” Charlene sucked in a breath. “At least, he seemed that way at first. Mr. Jameson acted concerned about my dilemma. He said he heard a rumor I could use help. He painted a picture, which made his terms seem simple. I borrowed the money and planned to pay it back.” She paused. “Later, he changed the terms, and I freaked when he told me to help kidnap you. I told him to go to hell.”

  Pamela believed Charlene. She was as much a pawn in this as she was. “He wants me for the bonds my stepfather stole from him … for him … whatever. He must think he has them still.”

  Charlene bit her lip. “Doesn’t he?”

  Pamela shook her head. “Problem is someone killed him.”

  Charlene gasped.

  Pamela continued, “What happened when you refused?”

  “That’s when … he to-oo-ok … my … so-on.” Charlene blubbered. “My mother was babysitting Henry when someone broke into her house, beat her, and took my son. She’s in the hospital. They said if I didn’t help them, I would see my son in the m—”

  Pamela wasn’t positive, but she believed Charlene said morgue.

  ****

  Jake opened the office door, followed by Dennis, and spotted Larry Newman standing near the secretary’s desk. “Got anything?”

  Larry shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Director Kennedy stormed in. “What in the hell happened? I thought everyone was in custody or dead.” The Director looked at Jake. “Why are you out of the hospital?”

  “You don’t expect me to sit back and wait, do you?”

  The Director slid a hand down his face. “No, I don’t.”

  Director Kennedy loosened his tie and exhaled an exasperated breath. “Let’s resume this behind closed doors.” He marched into the conference room, followed by the rest of the agents involved, and Jake, then stopped in front of the wall covered with information from the case. “Good thing the details from the case are still up. So, what do we know?”

  Jake led in with the facts. “Ap
proximately ten-thirty this morning, Ms. Young arrived at the café, then left with Charlene Smith under the pretense that she had a meeting at the bank.”

  “Charlene Smith?” Director Kennedy questioned.

  “She’s the new chef Ms. Young hired,” Agent Newman provided.

  “I remember.” The Director pointed to her picture on the wall just as his cell phone rang. He glanced down at the number. “Gibson, take over while I take this.”

  “Agent Dennis, would you inform the other agents what you told me this morning with regard to Ms. Smith?”

  Jake removed his sling and tossed it into a nearby chair. His shoulder ached, but not enough to have to slow down.

  Dennis finished his brief, then Jake added, “I want a list of Smith’s friends, contacts, bank accounts, hell you know the drill. Dig deep.”

  “On it.” Dennis walked out the door.

  Missy popped her head in. “Agent Newman, phone call.”

  Larry left the conference room and headed to his office.

  “Where’s Downs?”

  Agent Wilson spoke up. “He’s helping out in the field. I picked up the task of setting up the roadblocks. All airports have been notified as you requested. Roadblocks are in place, but…”

  “But what?”

  “It took twenty minutes to erect the roadblocks.”

  Jake looked up from the computer display of an area map and lifted his eyebrow. “And?”

  “There’s a chance they breached the perimeter before the officers reached their posts.”

  “Damn, I can’t see anything on this map.” Jake scratched his jaw. “After 9/11, this request should have been easy to carry out. Let’s expand the radius. The interstate is probably the last road they’d take. On the rural roads, they can’t travel too fast without being detected on radar. Set the blocks up seventy miles out.”

  “I’ll work on it.” Agent Wilson left.

  Through the open door, Jake stuck his head out. “Missy, get me a map of Fredericksburg and the surrounding counties. Tack it on a board.”

  In short order, the conference room transformed into a makeshift command center. After pouring a cup of coffee from the pot Missy brought in earlier, Jake studied the map.

  Larry bounded into the room. “Officers found Smith’s car on U.S. Route 29, abandoned. Crime scene investigators are processing the car. I’m headed there now.” Larry left for the scene; another agent followed.

  Steve marched into the room. “Jake—”

  “I thought you left last night.” Jake rubbed his left shoulder, working through the pain.

  “You should have that in a sling.”

  “I’ll use some of your special potion later if needed.”

  Kennedy re-entered the room. “Anderson, close the door.” Kennedy waited until Steve shut the door and settled into a chair before continuing. “I’m assuming Jameson has Pamela. If so, we can arrange a trade, Wine for Pamela. Oh crap, Wine got himself killed. Damn.” He scratched his chin. “I bet Jameson doesn’t know Wine’s dead. We’ll use a double. In the meantime, the bearer bonds are in DC. I’ll get them to you.”

  “Sir. Jameson won’t give Pamela up until he has a face-to-face with me. He wants payback for Sanjar.”

  Kennedy squared his shoulders and faced Jake. “No doubt, the Black Scorpions and Jameson want you dead. Humor me, use the double first.”

  Jake messaged his neck and considered what he said, then nodded. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

  “Don’t have one. It’s your neck. We’re at your disposal,” the Director informed.

  “Ambush them, take care of everyone at once,” Steve suggested.

  Good thought. Jake knew without question, Steve would do whatever is necessary to protect Pamela.

  Kennedy stood. “I have another case demanding my attention in DC.” Worry lines crossed his face. “I hate to leave, but I don’t have a choice. Jake, keep me informed.” Kennedy exited the room.

  Jake stretched his shoulder. A sharp pain stung the area.

  “Jake, Newman’s on line one.”

  Jake crossed the room and punched the button, putting Larry on speakerphone. “You’re there already?” he asked as he settled into a chair.

  “Nope. Agent Downs is there. He just called.”

  “Steve’s here. What do you have?”

  “There are two sets of prints in the front seat of the car, another in the back.”

  Steve’s chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it away from the table. “Black Scorpion?”

  “Possibly.” Larry cleared his throat. “Pamela and Charlene’s purses were in the car. No cell phone.”

  “What else?”

  “There’s mud on the tires, so it can’t be from 29. We’re looking into it.”

  “Keep me informed.” Jake disconnected and pushed the button on the intercom. “Check for activity on Pamela Young’s or Charlene Smith’s cell phones.”

  A moment later, she said, “Jake, no traffic since the hospital called Pamela’s cell.”

  “Thanks, Missy.” He released the button. “Damn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Soaked to the bone, Pamela and Charlene huddled close on the floor, trying to keep warm in the dark cabin. Pamela had never been to the mountains when it poured this hard. Now, she understood the signs that warned against falling rocks. With rain this heavy, the whole mountain could wash away.

  Her eyes darted around, looking for any hope of escape, and noticed discoloring on the back wall of the cabin. A small hole glowed with light. Was the wood rotting?

  The door squeaked open, and Pamela squinted against the invading sunlight.

  “Hello ladies.” A well-dressed man, wearing a suit and tie, appeared.

  “Jameson,” Charlene whispered.

  He sauntered across the room, then leaned over and lifted Pamela’s chin. “You’re even prettier than your picture.”

  She groaned and tried to jerk her chin away.

  His grip tightened. “Now, Miss Young, your stepfather has something which belongs to me. Where is he?”

  Another silhouette appeared in the cabin door, almost filling it. The cabin plunged back into near darkness.

  “You can make this easy or hard, your choice.” He released Pamela to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeve.

  Pamela’s palms began to sweat, and the skin under her cast started to itch.

  “I want the bearer bonds that Wine stole from me.”

  “I don’t know where he is or where the bonds are.” She scooted closer to the wall, willing herself to become invisible.

  “You’re lying!” Jameson bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring. His calm, cool demeanor had vanished. “Give them up or Ms. Smith suffers.”

  Charlene cowered. Her arms held her knees tight to her chest, and tears sprung from her eyes.

  Pamela moved away from the wall and inched in front of Charlene. Her lips trembled. “Please don’t. I swear I don’t know anything.”

  In a few strides, Guido crossed the room and shoved Pamela out of the way. Her cast hit the wall with a thud, as he hovered over Charlene.

  “You have one more chance, Miss Young. For Ms. Smith’s sake I hope you use it wisely,” Jameson declared.

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What was she supposed to do?

  A nod from Jameson and Guido punched Charlene in the face, knocking her head backwards.

  “No!” Pamela cried.

  “Tell me!” Jameson demanded.

  Guido bent over a crying Charlene and slammed his fist against her jaw.

  Pamela lunged at Guido.

  Jameson grabbed her wrist before she reached him.

  She spun, and her cast clunked Jameson on the head.

  He didn’t even wince.

  “That’s not wise, Miss Young!” Jameson spat, bending her wrist backwards as he backhanded her. Any second, her wrist would snap. “Now, tell me the truth.” Spit landed on her cheek.

  One look at Char
lene, and Pamela knew she couldn’t take much more. “Jake Gibson has the bearer bonds.”

  Jameson stiffened and dropped her hand. “You shouldn’t have lied.” He glanced at Guido. “You know Jake Gibson.”

  “The fucking Warrior,” Guido grunted.

  Jameson departed, leaving Guido behind.

  Pamela held her breath, praying for Guido to leave, too.

  Instead, he came at her and belted her in the face, knocking her into the wall.

  Jameson tossed in two bagged sandwiches and two bottles of water. “See, I’m not totally inhumane.”

  He exited the cabin with Guido at his heels. The sound of the door being bolted echoed through the small area.

  ****

  Jake studied the lab report Steve handed him.

  “We just received this fax. It’s a little late, but as we expected, Wine wrote the notes.”

  Jake tacked the piece of paper beside the other information. “We knew Jameson was the missing link, but why did he kidnap Pamela once Wine was dead?”

  “I doubt Jameson knows Pamela doesn’t have them. Hell, like The Director said, Jameson might not know Wine is dead.”

  “He’s using Pamela for leverage.” Jake scratched his head.

  Steve nodded. “Any luck with the cell phones?”

  “No. They’re still off.”

  Agent Dennis walked in, carrying food for everyone, balancing the carryout bag and drink tray with a folder.

  Steve and Jake sat across from him at the conference table.

  “I have a file on Charlene Smith.” After Dennis handed out the sandwiches and coffee, he revealed the contents of the folder. “Smith owns a café in ColonialBeach. She purchased it five years ago, and then two years ago, her husband left them in debt.”

  “We know this.” Jake picked up the papers Dennis scooted toward him.

  “Yes, but what was left off of Lever’s report was how close Ms. Smith was to losing the café until a month ago when she came into some money. The source of the money is still under investigation, but a substantial sum was deposited into her checking account. She received just enough money to get the café off the foreclosure line.”

  “Is Jameson the source?” Steve asked.