by Peggy Staggs
“Jack’s missing. Kidnapped.” The words physically hurt to say.
“Oh, my God. Should I call Oliver?”
“Who’s Oliver?” Don asked.
“He’s Jack’s senior deputy. He’s been on the force for six years.” Phyllis hadn’t given an inch.
I thought calling Oliver was a good idea, at least it would be one more person on Jack’s side. “You should call him.”
“No. I’m handling this.” Don brushed past Phyllis and walked toward Jack’s office. “A team will be here by six or seven a.m.”
I grasped his arm. “We can’t wait four or five hours. We have to act now.” I figured he knew that better than I did. So why wasn’t he doing what he supposedly did the best? Be a big time CIA Senior Director.
Don glanced down at me.
Before he could say anything, I asked Phyllis, “Where does Jack keep his contacts?”
“On his computer. But it won’t do any good,” she said. “You need his password. You are not going into my sheriff’s office.” She moved as if she was going to block Don’s path.
Don stepped past me and glared at Phyllis. “I need an office. Trace’s is the only one.” He walked into the room.
I watched Don as I pondered passwords. Most people use dates, names they can remember and believe it or not, the word password. I knew from his phone, Jack’s wouldn’t be anything easy. I pulled his cell from my pocket. I should have thought of this earlier. Stress and fear were stealing my brain power. I clicked on recent calls, only to find all names encrypted. The numbers weren’t. I sat down at one of the empty desks and quickly picked out Uncle Stan’s number. No, wait. “Phyllis, do you have Brad Hughes’s number in Salt Lake?” She had to have it.
“The FBI agent who was here in October?” she asked. “Let me see.” Phyllis pulled out a binder and began leafing through it. “The only number I have is for the field office down there.”
I could do this. “What’s the area code?”
“There are two. Eight zero one and three eight five. “
I found three calls with those area codes. I pressed the first one. It was two-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve. I was going to severely annoy someone. It rang through to the FBI Office. I tried the next one.
“Trace, what’s going on, now?”
“Is this Brad Hughes?”
“Who the hell is this?” He sounded shocked as well as irritated.
At least, he hadn’t asked if I knew what time it was. “Ensley Markus, I’m—”
“Trace’s truck thief.”
Technically, I’d borrowed Brad’s fancy FBI truck. I’d driven it at over a hundred miles an hour, but, hey, I’d been in a hurry. It seems men around here are very protective of their trucks. Who knew? “Jack is missing. I found a dead body in his house, and I’m talking to you on his cell phone.” Okay, he knew the cell phone part. “He’s been kidnapped.”
“How the hell did you get on his phone?”
“We found it at his house.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “What’s with you two? You are aware these things don’t happen to ordinary people.” I heard rustling in the background, then a muffled voice. “Go back to sleep, it’s okay,” he said to someone. “How long’s he been gone?” I heard a door close on his end.
“Since midnight.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “The words, ‘We have him.’ were written in blood on the wall at Jack’s.”
I heard Phyllis gasp. I couldn’t look at her. I had to stay strong.
“I can be there in two hours. Maybe less.” There was another long pause, then he asked, “Who are we?” He stopped. He’d been struggling with something. Probably clothes. “Who’s with you?”
I took a deep breath and ended up gasping. I walked toward Don. “Phyllis, the office manager, and Don March. He’s with—”
“Crap on a cracker. What’s he doing in Idaho?”
“There’s more. Don was sending Jack to exchange money for information.”
“Let me talk to him.” That sounded like an order. I don’t take orders well, but in this case, I’d let it slide.
“Brad Hughes wants to talk to you.” I handed the phone to Don.
“Don March.” He scowled down at me. “It’s classified. You won’t be needed. Homeland will be here in a few hours—I understand kidnappings are under the FBI, but this is Trace. He’s under—” Don gave an irritated sigh through his clenched jaw. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are. No, of course, we can use the help.” He pushed end. “Why did you call him?”
I drew myself up and added a couple of inches by standing on my toes. “I thought it would be best to have someone here who was actually interested in finding Jack. Besides me.”
We glared at each other. Don shoved Jack’s phone at me and walked away.
Back out in the main area, I slumped down in one of the office chairs. Lois came over and put her head on my knee. I slid from the chair to the floor. She butted her head into my neck as if to hide from reality. The tan walls of the room felt as if they were closing in on me. On the one facing me, someone had fashioned a Christmas tree out of strings of green garland. Inside was a dance of multi-colored lights. Along the front wall beneath the high windows, cardboard candy canes dangled from red and green ribbons above the file cabinets. To finish the theme, a large red poinsettia sat on Phyllis’s desk. Someone had the Christmas spirit.
Phyllis hung up the office phone. “Oliver is on the way to Jack’s. He’s calling Mullen CSU.”
Jack’s phone rang.
Chapter Four
At the sound of my, err Jack’s phone, Don came over to Phyllis’ desk.
My hand shook as I pressed answer. “Ensley, Brad. The airport in Jackson is closed. A massive storm is dumping snow all over the mountains. Worse, it’s headed your way. I’m checking the Boise airport, but if the snow is that bad in Jackson, I’m afraid the pass will be closed from that way too. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call you.” We hung up.
Jack’s phone went dark.
“What?” Don asked.
“They can’t get here. A big storm is coming. I wouldn’t count on your Homeland people getting here either.”
Phyllis slumped against her desk. “What’re we going to do?”
I turned to Don. We had only one chance, and that chance didn’t care if Jack lived or died. I compartmentalized the situation. It’s a survival mechanism most military kids develop. You learn early to leave friends behind when you moved to the next duty station. You know your old friends will stay in touch for a while. In the end, it becomes an out of sight out of mind thing. New people come, and everyone moves on. In a few months, you put their memory in a box in your mind and set them on a back shelf. It may sound harsh, but if you didn’t, you’d end up a dazed blob of emotion. “What do we do first?”
“We go to Trace’s. I want to make sure they’re doing everything correctly.” Don’s words sounded sour.
“Phyllis, would you take care of Lois for me? Oh no, you should go home. It’s Christmas Eve. I’ll take her to my house.”
“I’m not going anywhere—” she glared at Don— “until we find my sheriff. Come here, sweetie. I know where he hides your treats.” She walked toward Jack’s office with Lois in tow. Poor Lois, she looked as miserable as I felt.
»§«
Jack’s house could grace the cover of Dream Home Magazine. The two-story brick structure has the sleek lines of thoughtful design. Not something picked out of a book of 1001 house plans. We walked up the sandstone steps, across the snow covered tumbled brick patio, to the elegant glass front door.
The gorgeous wreath Jack and I had picked out and hung on his door now lay in the snow. The lush evergreen boughs are sprinkled with red frosted cranberries and white and gold holly leaves. With twists of gold ribbon here and there. The wreath is perfection. He’d objected to it, saying it was too girly. I’d informed him there was nothing feminine about pine and cranberries. I’d also pointe
d out there wasn’t a bow anywhere on it, so his masculinity was safe. The memory made me smile despite the circumstances. I picked it up, shook off the snow, and hung it back on the door.
We found Luke Johnson, one of the CSU technicians in the living room. I’d become well acquainted with him in October during all the deaths and break-ins at the B&B. “Luke, have you found anything?” I asked.
“Hi, Doctor Markus. This is bad.” He motioned for me to follow him. “We found another body on the patio off the living room.” He leaned in. “Who’s he?” Luke indicated Don.
“Don March, he’s CIA.”
Don had moved past us and was examining the body on the small side patio. “Did you see this?” he called.
We walked over.
Don held up the man’s shirt. Tattooed on his chest were crossed swords over a book with Arabic letters below.
“What does it mean?” Luke asked.
“ISIS,” was all Don said. He glanced up at me.
“Terrorists.” He had to be part of the group Don was sending Jack to meet. I was right radicals had him. How would they know to come here? Don was holding something back. “Is there anything to tell us where they took Jack?”
“All we found was this.” Luke held out a receipt in a red-topped plastic evidence bag. “We found it on the body.” He indicated the man in front of us.
“I’ll take it.” Don grabbed the envelope before I saw it.
“It’s a receipt for The Winston Motel in Mullen,” Luke told me.
“They checked out yesterday late.” Don put the evidence bag in his pocket as he walked back inside. At the door, he turned. “Are you coming? I’m going to pay a visit to the motel.”
“Wait,” Luke called. “You can’t take that, it’s evidence.”
“I’ll return it.” Without another word, Don left.
“I’ll be sure you get it back,” I said to Luke and hurried after Don.
I slid into the passenger’s seat. “We need to stop at the Hot Springs and get my SUV. It’s better in the snow than this sedan.”
“Good idea.” Don reached for the start button then stopped. He sat back without starting the car and stared out the windshield. “The contact wasn’t supposed to come here.” He hesitated then angled toward me. “I’m sure the man on the patio with the ISIS tattoo was the contact.”
“Why the change of heart?” Don had a motive, and I wanted to know what it was.
“I miss you. Come back to D. C., and marry me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the engagement ring he’d given me. “We can pick-up where we left off. We’ll forget about all about Idaho and Trace. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Pick up where we left off? Would that be before or after you nearly raped me?” You piece of garbage.
“I don’t know what came over me. No, I do know. I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me.”
The four-karat diamond sparkled even in the dim light from the house.
“What about Beth?” Did he think I’d be able to step back into my old life and erase the last couple of months? Leave everyone here behind? Forget Jack? I couldn’t see that happening.
“Honey, it was a big mistake. I’ve realized how important you are to me. Beth didn’t mean anything.”
Wow, really? In the picture, it sure looked like he was having fun. Wait... “Keep me safe?” Those three words jumped out at me.
“You can’t stay here. Being around Trace is dangerous. Deadly. That’s a lesson you should have learned after what happened in October and again tonight.”
“This is nothing more than a quiet small town.” I wasn’t counting Halloween. I should have.
“Life is never safe around him. Tonight’s a perfect example. So was what happened to your dad. Death and torment follow Trace and rub off on everyone around him.” He started the car. “Think about what’s happened since you arrived here. Do you want the rest of your life to be filled with one incident after another?” He returned the ring to his pocket. “With me, you’ll live in a brand-new condo, you’ll have a place to wear all your beautiful clothes, and Sophia is there. Think about it. You’ll be back home with your friends and me.”
I had to hand it to Don, he knew which buttons to push. Oh, it wasn’t the condo or the clothes, it was Soph and her family. We drove in silence to the bar and grill. My SUV, covered with a foot of snow, sat alone in the parking lot. I hoped Lacey hadn’t keyed it. It took several minutes to scrape the windows before we climbed inside.
“Mullen isn’t far,” I said as I started the engine. I was still trying to process what Don had said. I gripped the steering wheel and tried to sound nonchalant. “It won’t take long to get to there at three in the morning.” I was wrong. The snow more than made up for the lack of farm animals and equipment that moved along the road in the fall. The snow slowed our progress to a crawl.
Spirit Springs shuts off its Christmas lights at midnight, now, only a hand full of streetlights illuminating the road. The falling snow formed rainbow rings around the old-style lamps. “What are we going to do when we get to the motel?” I needed him to talk to me, if he was talking, I wouldn’t be thinking about what was likely happening to Jack.
“Ask questions.” Don sounded uneasy. I could almost feel him struggling to say something more.
I resisted the urge to glance over at him. He was a master at manipulating people, a quality he’d used to propel him up through the ranks at the CIA. I hoped his rise had been at least partly because of his skill as an agent and not solely due to his political prowess.
I turned onto the highway. As we passed the Gas and Gulp, the local truck stop, it began to snow harder. In this part of Idaho when it decides to snow, it gets right down to business. The flakes drove toward us like a million tiny white spears. The result was hypnotic as they appeared out of the dark night and shot through the headlights.
The storm Brad had warned me about was here.
“I miss you.” Don’s voice was soft and seductive. He reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been such a fool,” he said. “I want, no, I need you back. I’ve pulled a few strings and called in some favors. The job at JPL Corp is yours if you’ll come back with me. I had nothing to do with the destruction of your research. That was out of my hands. I’m sorry.
What? He’d ruined my career, and now he was giving it back to me. Really? What was I supposed to say? Oh, gee thanks, honey. I’m so eager to go back to being your party doll. Oh, and by the way, it’s fine with me if you keep your slut on the side. Yes, color me bitter lemon yellow. Not only for the pain he’d caused my team, but more because of Soph. She still hadn’t found a job. The rest had.
I figured I might as well get it all out. “And by the way, no matter what you say now, we both know I wasn’t important to you. I heard you tell a man I was your arm candy, someone to take to a party. Do you have any idea how I felt hearing those words? I wasn’t anything more to you than a decoration. I wasn’t someone you cared about. What made it worse, you’d already asked me to marry you.”
I remembered a comment I’d overheard at a party back in D. C., Only a week after Don proposed to me, a man had asked Don where he’d found such a beautiful woman. He wanted one too. I’d heard Don laugh and say, “You mean my party favor? She does look good on my arm. She’s not bad in bed either.”
The man chuckled. “I’ll bet she is. Can I take a shot at that?”
“Go find your own. This one is great for my career. I’m marrying her.”
To hear him say I was nothing more to him than an accessory he took out in public to complete his image. His comment hurt on two levels; it reinforced my poor judgment with men, but more I felt cheap and used.
This wasn’t Don’s style. I knew there were plenty of women back east who’d love to be his arm candy. Maybe he wouldn’t destroy their careers or cheat on them. So, why did he now want to make it right?
My hands ached as I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
&nbs
p; I focused on the road. Not on Don. Not on the situation. Just the road.
The Mullen coffers were obviously fuller than the ones in Spirit Springs. Here the Christmas lights here were still on. The bright red, green and gold frolicked across the bridge leading to the town beyond. I could see the glow from the lights of the Winston Motel across the bridge. Some memories are whispers, and some are screams. The memory of the pure terror I’d felt shrieked back to me. This was the spot where a couple of months ago I’d faced down two EMTs intent on murdering Jack. I could almost see the ambulance speeding toward me as I stood with my gun raised. I’d held my ground in the middle of the highway waiting and hoping, and not knowing if Jack was still alive.
I craved the feeling of happiness that should come with Christmas. Family and friends together. Instead, I felt the same dread I’d felt in October. Losing the kind of job, I’d worked my whole life to get, having to leave people who were like—no, they were more than family. They’d chosen to fold me into their number. Then there was the cruelest blow of all...my dad’s death. Would those few days ever fade to black and white?
After all that, Jack had come into my life. I prayed I’d be in time, again.
What kind of evil does it take to kidnap someone on Christmas Eve?
The lighted motel sign appeared out of the wall of white and darkness. A huge wreath-circled the vacancy sign of the generic motel. Typical to the area, it was an enclosed two-story affair with all the doors opening onto an interior corridor. The outside was shaped concrete block with river rock accents. The solid exterior was dotted with standard motel windows. I parked by the entry. A sign by the sidewalk read, “Caution, snow may slide off roof.”
We left the warmth of the car and walked to the entrance. The automatic doors swished open revealing an equally standard lobby. One wall held a dark wood front desk between two decorative stone partitions. Opposite the counter, set a full-sized Christmas tree. The decorations should have been thrown out two years ago.
Tiny pink flowers and green leaves dotted the brown upholstery on the chairs. Fleetingly, I wondered how many thousands of the same chairs and tables a chain ordered at one time. However, many it was, this place needed a new table. This one appeared to have been glued back together. Twice.
