“I had my photographer turn on the date stamp on both cameras. It’s something photographers never use, but most cameras have one. He set them on Washington time.
“If Rebecca reported to her headquarters building at fourteen hundred hours on the fifteenth, and reported again at fourteen hundred hours on the eighteenth…”
Hannah finished the sentence for him.
“Then we know damn well she’ll report at fourteen hundred hours on the twenty first… and the twenty fourth…and the twenty seventh.”
“Precisely.”
“So then what do we do?”
“That’s something we’ll have to think hard on. Once we identify her and know when we can confront her, we have several options.
“Some of them, I’ll be honest with you, could send us to prison. But they’re still viable options, so we’ll have to consider them all.”
“Okay, Bud. Now you’re scaring me.”
“Do you want your son back?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have to consider all the options. Even the shady ones.”
“Okay. What exactly are the options?”
“We can have a television crew confront her on our behalf. A very aggressive one. One that’ll shove a microphone in her face and demand she tell where she hid Samson’s body. And then to broadcast the video all over the news.”
Hannah winced at the words “Samson’s body” but didn’t say anything.
She knew all along there was a chance he hadn’t made it.
But she didn’t want to face it. Not just yet. Not until all other hopes were dashed.
“What else?”
“You can confront her all by yourself. Tell her you know who she is. That all you want is your son back. And if she’ll help you get him back you’ll disappear again and won’t cause her any other problems. She’ll never see you again. You’ll go back to your own life and she can go back to torturing innocent Americans and everybody will be happy again.”
“And if she won’t cooperate?”
“Then you tell her you’ll expose her to the world. Tell her your friends have been taking photos of her and within forty eight hours her face will be on every television in the world. Every social media site as well.
“She’ll be exposed as a murderer, a baby kidnapper and an all-around despicable person.
“Her neighbors will shun her, her family will disown her and she’ll be forced to resign her position with whichever terrorist organization she works for.”
Chapter 22
There were other options as well.
Bud had a contact in the District of Columbia Police Department who could obtain a “Jane Doe” arrest warrant and take the woman into custody.
That one was fraught with risk, however.
Once arrested, she’d likely invoke her rights and clam up. If that happened she’d never divulge what she knew.
If she just refused to help, they still had the photos. They could give them to the media, and the media would jump at the chance to broadcast a new angle to the story.
Somebody would recognize the woman in the photos and would come forward with her name.
Perhaps a neighbor she couldn’t get along with. Or an old college acquaintance who held a grudge for an old slight. Maybe an old boyfriend or girlfriend with an axe to grind.
In the end, they decided to delay their decision and stew on them all for awhile. Six days was a long time. There was no hurry.
Tony pointed out something Bud had told him in their prison cell a couple of weeks before.
“You said a good investigator always has a backup plan. Was that just smoke to impress me, or do you have a backup plan?”
“My backup plan has already been put into motion, my young friend. And it hurts my feelings that you’d doubt my word.”
He left it at that, prompting Tony to follow up.
“Well, are you going to tell me or leave me hanging?”
“We can be in two places at the same time, you and I. We can cover both buildings in Washington.
“But we can’t be in three places.
“So I contracted with another buddy of mine to check out the third place for me while we’re in D.C.”
“Third place?”
“St. Louis.”
“What the heck is in St. Louis?”
“Fingerprints and cameras, my young friend. Lots of cameras.
“You see, Hannah said she was held at an abandoned Air National Guard base. She never saw a sign, but that part wasn’t necessary.
“Old Air National Guard bases are ridiculously easy to find. Because they never take out the runways. They also seldom take out the hangers.
“They’re typically located with civilian airports. The civilian airport is on one side of the runways and the Air National Guard is on the other side.
“That way they can share the runways and the upkeep of them.
“The abandoned base where Hannah was held wasn’t attached to the main airport. Remember they put her into an SUV and drove her awhile to get to her hotel, which was right next to the main airport.
“My guess is the place she was held was on the other side of the city. Perhaps a smaller airport that’s now used for small private planes. Perhaps the Civil Air Patrol.
“In any event, it won’t be hard to find. I told John to get on his computer and call up a satellite image of St. Louis. Then to look for runways that aren’t part of the main airport. Shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“And John is your detective friend?”
“Hey, good guess! You’re smarter than you look.”
“And what’s John gonna do when he finds the place?”
“He’s gonna gain access to the abandoned base and see if he can get into the hanger. Hannah said it had some old office furniture in the middle of the hanger. Ugly stuff, old as the hills.
“She said one of the chairs had something stenciled on the back. Do you remember what it was?”
“Not a clue.”
“See, that’s why I’m a private detective and you’re not. I’ve got skills. I remember shit. It said, ‘81st TFW’ on the back of the chair.
“It once belonged to an Air Force Tactical Air Command Base.
“Anyway, even if they dismantled the plywood box where she was held and carted it away, there’d be no reason to cart away the old furniture. My guess is it’s still there, still gathering dust.
“Still waiting for John to find it.”
“And when he does?”
“He’ll gather as many prints as he can from the furniture.
“Hannah said our girl Rebecca pulled up a chair and sat at the table and had her sign some paperwork. Her prints will be on the chair for sure and probably the table as well.
“John will take as many prints as he can find that look recent, and will give them to another friend of mine who works in the Springfield PD.
“This guy, I won’t mention his name, because I don’t want to get him into trouble.
“But he has access to AFIS…”
“What in heck is AFIS?”
“The Automated Fingerprint Identification System. It’s a nationwide database of fingerprints. If she has a high-level government position, her prints are gonna be in AFIS.”
“The problem is there may be dozens of prints. No way of telling how many people have handled that furniture in recent months. It may take weeks before he has time to run them all.
“But hopefully he’ll find a print in AFIS that matches up to a leggy brunette who’s fairly attractive.”
“Rebecca.”
“Exactly. And when he finds such a person he can print out her photo and real name so Hannah can positively ID her.”
“You mentioned cameras…”
“After he gathers his prints and turns them over to my cop friend he’ll scout out the area around the abandoned base. He’ll hit ever burger joint with a surveillance camera. Every gas station with a surveillance camera. Every private resid
ent with a camera in his front yard.
“He’ll pass out a lot of fifty dollar bills. But he’ll be able to review a lot of surveillance tape.
“And if he sees anyone matching Rebecca’s description, he’ll get a copy of the video and we’ll have another ace in our hand.”
“So while we’re in Washington doing our thing he’ll be in St. Louis doing his.”
“Exactly. Plan B.”
Chapter 23
At a KOA Campground just outside the tiny town of Sloan, North Carolina, Roxanna crawled out of bed and stretched.
She picked up a pillow and playfully hit her husband and writing partner Darrell.
“Hey Gooberhead, wake up. I had a thought last night I want to talk to you about.”
Darrell cocked a sleepy eye in her direction.
“You had a thought? But this isn’t Tuesday. You only think on Tuesdays.”
“Oh, gosh. You’re right. What is today?”
“Monday.”
“Okay. Never mind. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
They’d been on the road for eleven months. They’d been writers for years, each having put several books on the shelves of libraries all over the country.
A year before they’d decided they needed a change of scenery.
Actually, it was Darrell’s idea. Because it wasn’t a Tuesday.
“Let’s take a couple years off and travel across the country.”
“Honey, our readers won’t let us take a couple of years off. You’re insane.”
“Of course I’m insane. I’ve always been insane. That’s why we fell in love, remember? Insane people seek out others like them.
“And you’re wrong. We don’t have to stop writing. In fact, we’ll have a lot more time to write.
“How, exactly?”
“I never suggested we go on vacation. It’ll be a working trip. We can visit the best things to see in America, and write about them as we go.”
“Interesting concept. Let’s talk more about your insanity.”
“Honey, I’m serious. Remember when you got your DNA tested, and it said that three percent of your DNA is unknown?”
“Yeah. So?”
“And then you did some research and found out everybody has the same three percent of unknown DNA?”
“Yeah, so?”
“And then you found an article where some famous Swedish scientist theorized humans were placed on earth by aliens thousands of years ago. And that the three percent unknown DNA is our alien DNA?”
“Yeah. So?”
“You really like those two words, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m talking to you, baby. Only when I’m talking to you.”
“So what if the scientist is right? What if aliens are real and we descended from them?
“What if their own planet was in danger of dying or was overcrowded and they brought us to earth and left us here?
“What if all those UFO stories are true?”
“You have a lot of questions, my wonderful but slightly insane husband. But I have a better one.”
“I’m listening.”
“What on earth does unknown DNA and aliens and Swedish scientists have to do with driving around the United States for two years?”
“Think about it. We can buy an RV. Not one of those huge dinosaurs that get ten gallons of gas to the mile and take up twelve parking spaces.
“A small one. One that’s just big enough for you and me.”
“Don’t forget Penny. No way we’re leaving Penny behind.”
Penny was part-dachshund, part-whatever. She was a roly-poly dog who couldn’t seem to lose weight no matter what diet the vet put her on.
And she was sweet as could be.
“Penny and I talked about that, actually.”
“You did? I can’t wait to hear what you decided.”
“Penny pointed out that she’s a much cheaper date than you are. Two cans of dog food and a couple of biscuits each day and she’s happy. She said you, on the other hand, want restaurant food and high-cost snacks at convenience stores.”
“Oh, she said all that, did she?”
“Yes. And we decided if we leave anybody behind it won’t be her. It’ll be you.”
“Well, you’re not taking my Penny away from me.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to come along.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll have to. Can my secret boyfriend come too?”
“Nope. Jose has to stay at home.”
“Shucks.”
“Yeah. Shucks indeed.”
“So… your idea is to travel around the country and write as we go?”
“Yep. While you’re driving I’ll sit in the passenger seat and write. And you can write when I drive.
“We’ll start out by going to Roswell and seek out anybody who’s still alive and can tell us what it was like in 1947 when their town was all the world was talking about.
“We’ll put it in the book. Then we’ll find somebody on the internet who lives in Arizona and saw a UFO. We’ll go interview them and put that in the book too.”
“You know, that might be fun. Let’s do it.”
And so it was that just about a year before the husband and wife writing team walked onto an RV lot in Texas and picked out a Minnie Winnie.
It was a “Class C” RV: one large enough to accommodate two people comfortably.
Well, two people and one Penny.
The three set out a few days later for Roswell and hadn’t been home since.
Along the way their mission morphed a bit.
They modified their plan to gather research on first-account ghost stories as well as UFOs.
And of course, Darrell continued to write the same science fiction novels he’d written for years.
It was a mission that required a considerable amount of work time in addition to the interviews.
But really, when driving for eight to ten hours per day across the United States of America, the person in the passenger seat has little else to do.
“So what was your idea that you can’t wait to tell me about?”
“I don’t have to wait until Tuesday to tell you?”
“No. I can tell it’s driving you crazy.”
“In addition to my children’s books, I want to write a series on our national parks.”
“You don’t think we’re overtasked already?”
“No. They’re saying that Yellowstone is going to disappear forever as we know it. So will a lot of other parks that are in the danger zones.
“Once they’re gone they’re gone forever. The only way to see them is in books. I want to visit all the parks in the danger zones. Take photos and write about their splendor. So that future generations who can’t go to the parks will be able to at least see what they once looked like.”
Darrell thought for a moment.
The idea did have merit.
And they had grandchildren who’d never be able to visit Yellowstone as adults. Or several other parks which would be destroyed as well.
“Okay. I’m sold. Where do you want to go first?”
“Why, Yellowstone of course.
“We’ll spend a few days at Yellowstone taking photos and seeing what’s going on there. Interview the visitors and find out why they’re going.”
“I can tell you why they’re going. They’re going because they know it’s the last time in their lives they’ll be able to see its beauty.”
“Oh, I know that. But I want to hear it in their words, not yours. Their words are the ones I want to record for posterity. Posterity has no interest in your opinion.”
“Yeah, yeah… when do you want to leave?”
“We’ve got the interview this morning about the haunted hotel in Sloan. Then let’s head west.”
“Is that okay with you, Penny?”
“Ruff!”
“Okay. Yellowstone here we come.”
Chapter 24
When Julie Hamlin finally checked
her voicemail and found out her husband was still alive she wasted no time in getting to him.
The first thing she did, though, was to call him at the hospital in Washington.
“I thought you were dead,” she told him. “I was so frightened. I thought the government killed you to retaliate against you for sharing their secrets.
“It was all over the news about them killing scientists and geologists. I thought you’d joined them.”
He tried to reassure her he was okay.
“No, honey. I had a heart attack, that’s all. I was taken to the hospital in my underwear. I was unconscious and didn’t have any kind of identification. That’s why the hospital didn’t contact you.
“It turns out the only thing that’s been trying to kill me is all the junk food I’ve been eating.”
“Junk food?”
“Yeah. The doctors told me the blood running through my body is mostly made up of donuts and cheeseburgers.
“I had a forty percent blockage in one of my arteries. They fixed that and put a stent in.”
“So you’re going to be okay?”
“Yeah. The doc says I didn’t suffer any permanent damage that he could see. He said I’ll live another fifty years, if I’m willing to make one concession.”
“Give up donuts and cheeseburgers?”
“Exactly.”
“What about bacon?”
“He didn’t say anything about bacon. So I guess it’s okay.”
“How long are they going to keep you?”
“He said a few more days. Just to make sure the stent is working and everything else is okay.”
“I’m going to come and see you.”
“Honey, you’ll have trouble getting a flight. I’ve been watching the news. They’re saying all the flights are booked up. That people are flying all over the country.
“People in the danger zones are flying to the safe states to house-hunt or talk to the bankers about mortgaging second homes. Then they’re flying back home again to start the moving process.
“A lot of people are starting to abandon their homes and are flying to the safe states to move in with relatives.
“It’s not a good time to fly.”
“Wayne, how long have you known me?”
“A long time.”
The Yellowstone Event (Book 3): A Nation Gone Crazy Page 8
