A Disneyland for truck lovers, the Iowa 80 was three hours outside of Chicago, and had the title of the World’s Largest Truck Stop. Quite a title, but as I drove into the complex, I saw that this wasn’t just a truck stop, this was more like a mini-city, complete with amenities, services, repair shops and even a trucker’s museum—not that I had the time or inclination to go in there. But more than the buildings, more than the shops, I found that this was also a community hub, a place for those traveling the lonely hours on the road to congregate and talk about their journey. Here they could find human comradery and contact after hours of solitary confinement on the open road. They could plug back into a community, of sorts, and find solace there after all that time alone where they only had the workings of their own mind, or the radio, for company.
With more than nine hundred parking spots for trucks, the food court was constantly busy, satisfying the urges of the hard-working truckers, who could then work off the excess in the gym only a few feet away—not that too many of them did, however, going by the abundance of oversized guts on display as I walked around, but I was reliably informed that my target never missed an opportunity to work out.
And so, that was where I found Kyle, pumping iron after another long and monotonous haul. He was aggressively grunting as I stepped into the small gym, located on the third floor of the main building in the truck stop. Dressed in a yellow tank top, shorts and sneakers, the muscles were clear to see.
I had done my research on Kyle, and it was clear that his years in the army had left their mark—down his right arm, that is, where a long battle-hardened scar was clear to see.
He grunted as I stepped in, and I did the same. He lifted, I lifted. He stretched, I stretched. I was mirroring his actions, important to create trust between us. I lifted weights, and although I could’ve, throughout the half-an-hour workout, I made a point of never lifting heavier weights than his.
I was lucky that I looked the part as well—I had stopped by a second hand shop on the drive to the truck stop, purchasing a complete outfit of ripped shorts, old sneakers, and a Metallica t-shirt, for under five dollars. I wondered what Casey would think, she was always on my case about my style, in fact, she was always on my case, period, but today’s outfit really did look like I was in dire need of an emergency fashion make-over.
“What are you hauling?” After thirty minutes, Kyle finally broke the silence.
“Furniture.” I wiped my brow. “You?”
“Same. I’m hauling a whole bunch of tables from a workshop in North Dakota to a showroom in Nashville.”
I nodded in a way that implied that was the sort of jobs I was used to.
“Do you make that run often?”
“About twice a month they get me to haul it. It’s expensive stuff too, each table’s worth over ten grand. Can you believe that? Who spends ten grand on a table?” He smiled. “I would much rather spend that money on beer.”
“Ten grand on beer? That would last at least the weekend at my place.”
We laughed. That was good. The bond was building.
He was a big guy, broad shouldered, with thick arms. His black hair was cropped short and his beard was two-day old stubble. His skin was weathered, and his eyes looked like they had seen death too many times.
“When did you start the run?” I asked.
“This morning. I’ve been on the road ten hours. Was in Chicago before that.”
“Yeah, not far off that myself today.”
The timeline fit for the escape from the warehouse.
“Running by yourself?” I continued.
“This time, yeah.”
“I brought my kid with me last time,” I lied. I was pushing for information, and building a bond. “It was a shorter run. He’s only six but he enjoyed the hours on the road. He loves sleeping in the cabin, thinks it’s camping or something, sort of an oversized cubby house, doesn’t realize that after a while the novelty wears off good and proper and there is nothing better than leaving it all behind and sleeping in your own bed. You got kids?”
“I’ve got a twenty-year old son in Detroit from my first marriage, and a five-year-old stepdaughter in Chicago from my second marriage.”
“Going around twice? That must be expensive.” I laughed but he flinched. That hit a nerve.
“The stepdaughter’s father is mega rich, the type of guy that would buy a ten grand table and never use it. In fact, he’d probably buy a couple.”
We both shook our heads at that.
“Still, must make bringing up the kid easier.”
“But that’s the thing,” He wiped his brow with his gym towel. “The guy doesn’t pay a cent. My wife signed a prenup with him, so he pays nothing. We’re almost broke, trying to survive paycheck to paycheck, and that prick lives in a fancy penthouse, drives several fancy cars, and vacations all around the world.”
“What about child support? He’s gotta pay something towards you bringing up his little brat.”
Kyle gave me a sharp look.
“Nah, his fancy lawyers got it all worked out for him, he has no clue how much it really costs to bring up a kid, especially with him insisting she wears designer clothes when she stays with him.”
He took a swig from his water bottle before continuing.
“Still, she’s a sweet kid, you know. I’d do anything for her and her mom. They deserve a lot better.” Kyle trailed off as if thinking about something more.
“Doesn’t seem fair.”
That brought him back.
“You want to talk about fair? How about the fact that I risked my life for this country, the blessed United States of America, and leave with nothing, and all that guy does is rip people off and he gets to live the fancy life. That’s not fair.”
I’d definitely hit a nerve.
“Those politicians have something to answer for.” I quipped.
“Nah, not them. I have great respect for my country and its leaders. The greatest country on the planet, no question about it—not that I’ve been to any others, but then why in God’s name would you want to?” He chuckled to himself. “This country was founded on ideals of hard work and rewards, where anyone could be successful if you just work at it.”
I moved towards his bag. I could see his keys sitting inside the zipper of the bag. He was distracted as he continued to talk about his life, the world, and everything in between so I decided to take the risk.
“But they forgot to factor in the snakes. Snakes like Chase Martin.” Kyle spat out the last words with total disgust, like it hurt him to even utter them.
Pretending to stretch my hamstring, I leaned forward, and with one quick motion, I reached inside his bag and deftly swiped his keys, pocketing them inside my shorts.
“That man is a con artist, he conned his way to money and power, he conned my Tanya and even cons his own little girl. Just another scumbag who’d do anything to get to the top.”
“That’s the world,” I said, as I moved the keys from my pocket into my gym bag. “It’d be hard to change it.”
“We just need to go back to the way things were. Back to the American way.”
“Well, you’re right about that,” I replied, trying to get back on the same wavelength.
He was proud of his country, an honorable guy, I could tell that right away. I changed the subject quickly before he got any more off track.
“Which truck you hauling with?”
“A red 2015 Kenworth. Recently, I had flames painted down the side.”
“Nice. Big cabin?”
“You bet. It’s parked out back.”
Good. I had the truck. If he had the girl, then it would be easy to find out if she was holed up inside there.
“I’m going to hit the showers, but it was good to meet you.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kyle.”
“Jack.” He held out his hand to shake. I grasped a palm which was rough like sandpaper. He had big, coarse, working hands, not like the prissy manicured hands of C
hase Martin, but the real thing, a real man’s hand. We shook and his grip felt like it could crush a watermelon.
He stepped out to the showers and I ran outside to find his truck.
If the girl was there, I was sure she’d be safe.
I found myself hoping she was there. Kyle cared about Millie, and he was too honorable to hurt a child. It would have been the perfect scenario, a quick and easy conclusion.
Sometimes cases are solved quickly and easily, but in my experience those are rare indeed. Most often they are long and messy and people get hurt along the way.
I looked in his truck and found nothing, no sign of the girl, before handing the keys back into the front desk, saying that he’d left them in the gym.
Kyle was still a suspect—he had the means to take the girl—and the motive too, although he clearly didn’t have her with him, that didn’t preclude the possibility that he was holding Millie elsewhere.
Chapter 13
Generally speaking, I hated the modern phone apps.
But I must admit, there was something appealing about using them that I found hard to resist. There was a highly addictive nature to them and once hooked they could be really hard to quit. They became a habit, often used without a conscious decision to do so.
Casey was always trying out the latest apps, research she said, but I knew it was her way of letting her brain relax and go someplace other than work, to put that stress on hold, at least for a while.
Why she had to share them with me though, I didn’t know.
The latest fad was an app that showed what children would look like based on uploading another person’s face into it – either a real person you know or, more often than not, a fantasy celebrity. It then mixed up a selection of facial features from both your picture and the other person and, voila! Out popped an offspring. I’d heard about it, I’d seen others using it—often resulting in a lot of laughter—and up until this point I’d done my best to resist it.
But sometimes resistance is futile.
Casey had tried it with Ed Sheeran, Damian Lewis and even Prince Harry, apparently she had a bit of a thing for ginger haired Englishmen, and she was pretty happy with the results. And for a laugh she paired me with Beyoncé, Hillary Clinton and the Queen of England, but I didn’t stick around for the results. My chance for kids had gone. Gone with Claire.
But sitting in my office, with two days down, just three days to go, Millie’s disappearance was weighing heavily on my mind, and I couldn’t resist downloading the app. I uploaded a picture of my face, I’d like to say a good picture of my face but then in truth they ranged from bad to not quite so bad, and then I uploaded a picture of Claire’s face. Any picture would do, Claire always looked beautiful; was beautiful, inside and out: face like an angel and a heart like a saint.
And dammit, the picture of our potential offspring was gorgeous.
But more than that, more than the features, was the fact that our downloaded offspring looked like she could be a cousin of Millie Martin. Blonde hair, blue eyes, soft smile. So damn cute. Clearly the app used more of Claire’s photo than mine.
I had to do everything I could to protect that child. I couldn’t let her be hurt, or that would weigh on my mind for the rest of my life.
I’d already lost Claire. I couldn’t afford to lose Millie as well.
Something shifted inside of me, a subtle change in my perception of things. A determination to find Millie, to save Millie, no matter what, began to take ahold of me as if she were my very own child, Claire’s own child, the daughter we never had.
Turning off the app, I looked around my office. It was just as well that we didn’t have a child before Claire was taken from me, I couldn’t imagine a child growing up in this world. My world was filled with crimes, hatred and anger, and there was no way to avoid it. But Millie was real and alive somewhere. The thought of her fear and possible suffering ate a hole in me. I was going to rescue her and to take down anyone who got in my way, so help me God.
This was the only work I knew, the only thing I was good at, and the thought of giving it up to work in a respectable office would’ve killed me. I couldn’t imagine sitting in front of a computer for hours on end, slugging away on a keyboard to make money for someone else’s business.
However, an office job would’ve been a thousand times better than a customer service role. I would be lucky to last a morning before I got fired. If there was one thing I hated, it was when people complained. Worse still was the thought of smiling meekly in response to a customers’ complaints. I liked to hit back, both figuratively and literally. I wouldn’t be able to hold back on my advice about where these people could file their complaints.
I opened a news website. Another kid missing in Florida. The FBI said that they were copycats, and had high hopes of getting the child back this time. I didn’t have any hope for that kid. If the gangs were evil enough to kidnap a child, then they were evil enough to pull the trigger. They weren’t messing around, and fear was spreading through the country. ‘Keep your kids safe,’ the Governor said. ‘Don’t let them wander the streets alone.’
I read the article on the kidnapping and then turned to the local news on the site. Hugh Guthrie made a headline. He would love that.
The article talked about the lack of justice for newscaster Brian Gates, who Guthrie murdered. There had to be another way to get Guthrie. There had to be another way to get justice.
I heard Chase before I saw him. He stormed through the door into my office, the fear running through his movements.
“She’s run away.” He stepped into my office. “She’s gone.”
I paused for a moment before I responded. “Who are we talking about?”
“Ruby. My girlfriend.”
“Right. Did you ask her where Millie was?”
“Ask her? Ask her?!” He slammed his hand on my desk. “This isn’t the time for asking!”
“You accused her of hurting Millie?” My voice was calm, a perfect foil to his anger.
“I said that I knew she had Millie and I wanted to know where she was.” He began to pace the room in front of my desk, head turning this way and that, clearly agitated. “She said she had no idea what I was talking about, and then she started saying that she was going to be famous, and was going to move all the way to LA to be with some big shot there.”
If it wasn’t for Millie, I would have laughed.
“For a movie producer?”
“That’s it. Some guy she met near a coffee shop. She’s so gullible. I told her that the movie producer just wanted to sleep with her, that he didn’t see any potential in her other than her physical attributes and that she was a fool if she got caught up in all his lies.”
“And then?”
“And then she stormed out and said that Millie had destroyed our relationship.”
“What did she mean by that?”
Chase gave a frustrated sigh.
“It was her stupid little dream of me taking her to LA so she could have her shot at being a star. I would let her have her fantasy, smile and nod, agree how amazing it would be, but I never intended to go through with it, and she was slowly starting to figure that out. Ruby blamed it on Millie, but the truth is, I’m just not interested. The woman has no talent beyond taking photographs of herself. She’s a vacuous little airhead who looks good. Take that away and she’s nothing. Ruby and I won’t last, I’ll get bored, already am, really, and then I’ll move on. And when I leave Chicago, it will be somewhere chosen by me, not a girlfriend or anyone else.”
“What about Millie?”
“Millie?” Chase looked genuinely confused. “She’s a kid, she doesn’t get a say. What’s any of this got to do with it anyway, we’ve got to track down Ruby!”
“Any idea where she went?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Chase ran his hand through his hair. “I have no idea where she went. I tried to follow her, but she started screaming as soon as we got on the street. I tried to
grab her, but some guy stepped between us, probably trying to act like the tough guy in front of a pretty girl, and she got into a cab. And now she won’t answer my calls.”
“Not at home?”
“I called her home and her mother answered, but she said she hadn’t seen Ruby. She said Ruby and her father have been acting strange lately. She didn’t know where Ruby’s father was either. He’s got mob connections, Jack. He’s got a lot of connections in that world.” He turned to me. “This is your fault. You told me it was Ruby.”
“I didn’t tell you it was Ruby.”
“It’s your fault.” He waved his finger near my face, leaning across my desk. “I shouldn’t have hired you.”
“I suggest you put that finger down before I snap it off like a dry twig.”
My calm demeanor caught him off-guard. He expected me to shout and scream, get into a verbal duel, but that wasn’t my way. I was a man of action, not of talk.
“I can’t let her hurt Millie, Jack.”
A rare glimpse of parental care. Time for a bit of the good cop routine, soften him up.
“We’re not going to let that happen, but we have to get prepared. And that means no more going off like a loose cannon. You came to me because you knew I was your best hope. You’ve got to trust me now.”
He turned away from me, and started pacing the room again. “What am I going to do?”
“Focus on what we can do. How is the money going?”
“I’ve got it. All of it is ready to go. I just need to pick it up from the bank, it’s not as easy as visiting an ATM for an amount like this. I have an appointment with the manager to collect it this afternoon. Then I’ll keep it in my safe at home. The whole building is under tight security. I’ve told the security team to be extra vigilant over the next few days, although I didn’t tell them why. I trust them, but I don’t trust anyone that much.”
Stolen Power Page 7
