by Cindi Myers
“I’m tired now.” Ian laid aside the hammer and looked up at Jack.
“You did a good job.” Jack admired the row of crooked nails. “Why don’t you lie down on the sofa and rest up from your hard work.”
“Okay.” The boy crawled up onto the sofa.
Jack set aside the hammer and nails and went into the kitchen, where Andrea was just taking the brownies from the oven. “Smells good.” He nuzzled the back of her neck. “The brownies, too.”
She swatted him away, but her eyes shone. “Where’s Ian?” she asked.
“He’s on the sofa, taking a nap.”
“He lay down without a fuss?”
“It was his idea. He said he was tired.”
She switched off the oven. “That’s not like him. I’d better go check on him.”
She left the kitchen and Jack retrieved the backpack and spread the papers on the table once more. If he could figure out exactly where Center Line Gulch was located, he could relay the information to the team and they could go in and investigate. If it was another hideout, Anderson and his pal might have headed there, thinking they would be safe. The team might even get lucky and find the ringleader, Duane Braeswood, and wrap up this whole case.
Andrea returned to the kitchen. “He feels a little feverish,” she said. “It might just be from all the excitement the past couple of days, but I’m worried he’s coming down with something. I’ll feel better when I can get him home.”
“Do you want me to call my boss and tell him it’s an emergency?” Jack asked.
“No. It’s just a slight fever. He may feel better after his nap.” She sat across from him. “Have you figured out anything from those papers?”
“No luck with the Russian pamphlet.” Jack tapped the booklet. “It doesn’t have illustrations, only a lot of words and what look like mathematical formulas. How’s your calculus?”
“Nonexistent,” she said. “One of the reasons I was attracted to psychology was that it doesn’t require a lot of math.”
“I took plenty of math for my robotics courses, but none of this makes sense to me.” He set aside the pamphlet. “The map is a mystery, too. Did whoever owned this backpack have the map to help him find this place, or is the circled area the most important information?”
“It must be marked for a reason,” she said.
“It could be another hideout or a meeting place, the home of one of the group members, or even a place they planned to rob or carry out an act of sabotage.” He continued to stare at the network of black-and-white squiggles and lines until they blurred, then let out a frustrated breath. “I’ll have to let the team figure it out. If we compare it to full-size maps of the area, we should be able to find a match.”
“It’s frightening not knowing what they were up to,” she said. “Do you really think Ian’s kidnapping was just a way to get back at you, or did they have something else planned?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past these people. They don’t hesitate to use or kill innocent people to further their agenda. The organization is like an octopus. Every time we cut off one arm, there’s another arm wreaking havoc. It won’t stop until we get to the leaders.”
“Mama! Mo-om!” Ian’s wail had them both on their feet and running toward the living room. They found the boy sitting up on the sofa, his hair mussed and his face flushed. Lip trembling, he held up his arms to his mother.
Andrea gathered him close. “Honey, what is it?” she asked, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “What happened? Did you have a bad dream?”
“The man. The man was here.”
Andrea and Jack exchanged looks. “What man, honey?” she asked.
“The man at the window.” Ian pointed to the window at the side of the house. “He was trying to get in.” Ian buried his face against his mother’s shoulder and began to sob.
Jack raced outside and leaped off the porch. He spotted no one at the side of the house or running away, but in the snow beneath the window were the fresh imprints of a man’s shoes, distinct from the prints Jack had made when he had removed the plywood from the window earlier.
He scanned the area around the cabin. The footsteps faded out at the edge of the trees, where the ground was rougher and the snow less deep. Trees came to within a few feet of the building on two sides, but those at the back had been thinned, providing a clear view of the river. Sunlight glinted off the rushing current and a fish-cleaning station nearby. A snow-covered path led from where Jack stood to the water, but the snow showed no sign of tracks, and the riverbank provided no good hiding place for a man on the run.
To Jack’s left, trees closed in. Though the dense underbrush would make movement difficult, someone standing only a few dozen yards away would be hidden from anyone in the camp. Jack started walking toward the river, then circled around and began moving, as quickly and quietly as possible, through the trees along the camp boundary.
A rabbit exploded from beneath a stand of scrub oak to Jack’s left. Pistol drawn, he whirled toward the sound. Branches shook and a squirrel let out a furious chattering as something large and heavy moved away from Jack.
Jack plunged toward the movement. “FBI!” he shouted. “Stop, or I’ll shoot.” He ducked behind a large tree trunk, braced for a barrage of gunfire.
But only silence greeted his demand. The movement stopped, not a twig or tree branch moving. After a few seconds, the squirrel resumed fussing. Staying in the cover of tree trunks, Jack took one cautious step forward and then another. He couldn’t see his quarry, but he knew he had to be close.
“P-please don’t shoot me.”
The voice wasn’t what he expected. The words were quavery and high-pitched, more like the voice of a child than a grown man.
“I won’t hurt you,” Jack said. Not if I don’t have to. “Put your hands up and move to where I can clearly see you.”
The tall, slender figure stepped into the cleared space beneath a broad-trunked pine tree. Dirty-blond hair fell across a pale face, the cheeks fuzzed with a patchy, thin beard. The jeans and hoodie he wore were dirty and torn, and he had a blanket draped around his shoulders. Jack relaxed, though he held the gun steady on the boy. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Brian. Brian Keeslar. Who are you?”
Jack ignored the question. “What were you doing looking in the window of that cabin?” he asked.
“I was just trying to see if there was anybody in there.”
“So you could break in again and steal something?”
“I just wanted food. I didn’t want anything else. Please, mister. You’re not going to shoot me, are you?” The boy began to cry—and Jack could see that he was a boy, though an almost grown one—shoulders shaking, tears flowing down his cheeks.
Jack lowered the gun slightly. “What are you doing here, kid?” he asked.
Brian sniffed. “It’s a long story.”
“Come on.” Joe motioned toward the cabin. “Let’s go back to the camp. You can get something to eat and tell me all about it.”
Chapter Ten
“You promise you won’t hurt me?” Brian asked.
Jack holstered the gun. “I won’t hurt you,” he said.
“Are you really with the FBI?”
“I really am.”
The boy wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Maybe you can help me,” he said.
“I probably can. Come on. Let’s go inside.” Jack took hold of the young man’s arm, more to keep him from startling and running back into the woods than anything else. He looked scared half to death. Jack led him up onto the porch of the cabin and opened the front door. “Andrea, we’ve got a visitor,” he called, and ushered Brian inside.
She was still holding Ian, rocking him in her arms. The boy turned his head to look at their vi
sitor but said nothing. “Andrea, this is Brian,” Jack said. “Brian, this is Andrea and Ian.”
“Hello.” Brian kept his eyes on the floor and shifted from foot to foot.
“Why don’t we all go into the kitchen and sit down,” Jack said. “I’ll fix Brian something to eat and he can tell us his story.”
Andrea and Brian sat at the table, Ian in her lap. Jack opened a can of chili and heated it, then served it to Brian with crackers and a glass of water. At the last minute, he cut two brownies from the pan on the counter and put them on a napkin beside the bowl of chili.
“Thanks,” Brian muttered. He stared at the food.
“Go ahead and eat,” Andrea said. “We’ll wait until you’re done to talk.”
The boy ate quickly, as if he was afraid someone would take the food from him. When he was done, he pushed the plate away. “That was the best meal I’ve had in a while,” he said.
Jack took the chair across from him. “It looks like you’ve been living rough for some time,” he said. “What’s your story?”
The young man shifted in his chair. “First would you tell me what you’re doing here?” He glanced at Andrea. “I mean, you seem like a nice family, but this is a funny place for a vacation.”
Jack glanced at Andrea. Ian had fallen asleep, his head on her shoulder. “We’re not on vacation,” he said. “We’re here because the men who were living here kidnapped Andrea’s son. We were able to rescue him, but they got away. Snow has blocked the roads, so we’re stuck here until the plows get out this far.”
“Oh, man.” Brian buried his face in his hands and Jack thought he might start to cry again. After a few seconds, he looked up. “I can’t believe they did that to a little kid. I wish you had shot them all.”
“Did you know the men who were here?” Andrea asked.
“I guess you could say that.” Brian made a face. “They weren’t my friends, if that’s what you think.”
“What was your relationship to them?” Jack asked.
“They kidnapped me, too. About three months ago, as close as I can tell.”
“Your poor parents,” Andrea said. “They must be worried sick.”
Brian rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “It’s just my dad. I’m not sure he even knows I’m missing. Or still missing.”
The kid was right. This was a complicated story. “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Jack said.
“Yeah, okay.” Brian stared off to the side for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he began.
“My dad is a physicist, Barry Keeslar. He does a lot of work with nuclear energy, enriching uranium, experimenting with fission and fusion and all that stuff. Right now he’s in Russia, or maybe Iceland—it’s hard to keep track of his schedule. He travels around consulting with different governments and stuff.” He shrugged. “I’m not all that sure. I haven’t seen him in like ten years and we only talk on the phone every few months. My parents divorced when I was a little kid, but he never remarried or had any other kids or anything. My mom died last year and since then I’ve kind of been on my own.”
Andrea reached out and covered his hand with her own. “I’m very sorry. That must have been hard.”
He hesitated a moment before moving his hand away. “I did okay,” he said. “I was going to school in Boulder. I’m a freshman at the University of Colorado. My dad paid for that, at least. I had friends and a job and everything. Life was good. Then one day I’m closing up the pizza place where I work weekends and these two guys dressed in black come in. I figure they want to rob the place. My boss already told me if that happened, I’m supposed to cooperate. Shut up and give them what they want. But what these guys wanted was me. They knocked me out and the next thing I know, I wake up here, tied up and chained to a bed.”
“Who kidnapped you?” Jack asked. “Do you know their names?”
“There were three main guys. The one in charge they called Chief, but he slipped a couple of times and I think his real name was Jerry. I never heard last names. The older guy who stayed in this cabin with me was Leo, and they called the other guy Andy, though he acted like he hated the name. Which only made the other two use it more. There were other people in and out of here a lot, but most of them, I never knew their names.”
“And they held you here for three months?” Andrea looked stricken at the thought.
“They told me as soon as my dad ‘cooperated,’ they would let me go.” He made air quotes around the word cooperated. “I didn’t think it was money they were after, though I guess my dad has plenty of that. It might have had something to do with his job, but they wouldn’t answer any of my questions, and they didn’t like it if I asked.”
“What did your father do when they contacted him?” Andrea asked.
“I don’t know what my father did. From what little I overheard, I think at first this bunch was having a hard time getting ahold of him. He moves around a lot and he’s kind of the absentminded-professor type. He doesn’t always answer his phone or check his email, especially when he’s involved in a project.”
“The police must have been looking for you,” she said. “Your friends and professors must have noticed when you didn’t show up for class.”
“I don’t think so. They grabbed me just before a three-day weekend, so my friends probably thought I left town. When I didn’t come back, they probably thought I’d quit school or transferred somewhere else. It happens.”
“So they kept you here for three months,” Jack said.
“Yeah. They kept me tied up a lot of the time, but after a while they’d untie me and let me walk around. They told me they’d kill me if I tried to get away and I believed them. They were mean. Sometimes they’d knock me around, not because they were angry or anything, just because they were bored. They fed me the same boring canned stuff they ate, but sometimes Leo would ‘forget’ to give me meals. The longer I stayed here, the more worried I got. I figured sooner or later they were going to kill me.”
“How did you get away?” Jack asked.
“A couple of days ago, they left me alone. I couldn’t believe it. I overheard them arguing and I guess Leo was pitching a fit about always having to stay here, guarding me, so they left me tied up and all drove away together. I couldn’t believe it. I had a broken bottle I’d found in the trash a couple of weeks back. I’d stashed it under the mattress and as soon as they left, I got it out and used it to saw at the ropes. It took forever and I was terrified they would come back before I got done, but at last I was free. About that time they came back and I ran into the woods. I thought I would hike to the road and hitch a ride, but it started snowing and then I got lost in the woods. By the time I ended up at the road, the bridge was blocked, so I came back here, only to find they were gone and you folks were here.”
“Why didn’t you come to us for help?” Andrea asked.
“I thought you might be part of their group,” he said. “They’ve had all kinds of people in and out of here while I’ve been here. Some of them stay for a single night, some for a couple of weeks.”
“You thought I was a terrorist?” Andrea’s face betrayed her horror at this idea.
“There was a woman here once, about your age,” Brian said. “Leo said she was the daughter of someone important. They didn’t keep her tied up or anything, but I got the impression she didn’t want to be here. They kept me out of sight while she was here. After a couple of days she left.”
“I hate to think of you out in the snow, cold and hungry,” Andrea said. She stroked Ian’s sleeping head. “You’re safe now.”
“We’ll locate your father and contact him as soon as we’re back in Durango,” Jack said. “I’ll want you to give a statement to the FBI and look through some pictures to try to identify the men who held you. When we find them, we’ll ask you to testify against them.”
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br /> “I’ll do it.” He sat up straighter. The meal, and maybe talking about his ordeal, had vanquished the hunted look.
“For now, can you tell me anything about what the people here were up to?” Jack asked. “Anything you overheard about other people or locations or anything like that could help.”
Brian shook his head. “I can’t think of anything right now. Mostly they just groused to each other about being stuck here while their bosses got to live in some fancy house somewhere.”
“Did they mention the boss’s name?” Jack asked.
“No. They just called him Boss. When they weren’t grousing about him, they liked to shoot off guns in the woods, and sometimes Leo went fishing. Jerry went on sometimes about the importance of their mission and how they were saving America, but the other two seemed to be in it for the money. They talked about what they were going to buy when they got their big payoff, but I never did figure out where the money was supposed to come from.”
“You may remember more later,” Jack said. “Whatever you can tell us will be helpful. Even details you think are unimportant could help us fill in another piece of the puzzle.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you nail these guys,” Brian said. He turned to Andrea. “Is your little boy okay now?”
“The kidnappers didn’t hurt him, if that’s what you mean.” She laid her hand protectively on Ian’s head. “But he’s running a fever and not feeling well. I think the stress of all this has made him sick.”
“Do you know when the snowplows will be here?” Brian asked. “I don’t want to stay around here any longer than I have to. I’m worried Jerry and his friends might come back.”
“Jerry—” Andrea began.
“Jerry won’t be bothering you anymore.” Jack caught Andrea’s eye and shook his head. No sense going into the whole story of Jerry and his shooting. There would be time enough for that once they had confirmed the man was dead. “I’ll call my boss again and let him know we’ve found you and get an update on our rescuers.”
He moved into the living room and took out his phone. The battery was getting low. As soon as he completed this call, he would have to dig out his charger.