by Roger Hayden
* * *
The Jeep barreled down Knight’s street, zooming past houses. He slowed at the sight of a station wagon parked along the curb across from his home. Turning into the driveway, his Jeep bounced as he slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching stop. The garage door was closed, and the front window blinds were drawn. Knight shut off the engine, phone in hand and sweat pouring down his face. “I’m here, you son of a bitch. Release Bonnie and let’s talk.”
Caldwell chuckled cynically. “Right on time. I’m proud. This isn’t a negotiation, Charley. You will do what I say. That’s all.”
Knight muted the phone and slammed his hands on the steering wheel, shouting, “Mother fucker!” He wanted Caldwell dead. He’d skip the arrest and trial and go right for a shot in the head. He swung open the Jeep door and limped outside. Looking around, he didn’t see any neighbors, but there was a lawn maintenance team working the yard three houses down. Knight knew he was walking into a trap.
Caldwell no doubt planned to ambush him, and Knight had no illusions about what would happen if he surrendered himself. He was dealing with a psychopathic murderer. The only option was to try to play Caldwell, just as Caldwell was playing him. He needed to get to his pistol, but first he needed to make it inside. Knight hunched over and walked wobbly-legged to the front door.
“Come on inside,” Caldwell said. “The door’s unlocked. Don’t leave it open.”
“On my way,” he said, wincing in pain. He reached the door, turned the knob, and walked inside to a quiet, seemingly empty house. He shut the door and leaned against the wall with searing back pain. He held the phone to his mouth, hands trembling. “Okay… Give me a moment.” There was no response, and he noticed that the call had ended. He shouted for Caldwell, but again no one responded.
“Son of a bitch…” he muttered, limping into the living room. Everything looked virtually untouched. A mop lay in the kitchen near a bucket. “Come on out, Caldwell. Let’s finish this.”
It suddenly hit him that there was no better opportunity to rush into the bedroom and get his gun, if his legs would make it. At any moment, he expected Caldwell to rush out and attack him. His nemesis was highly skilled at staying hidden, as he had proven over the years. Knight called out for him again, inching toward the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. As he drew closer, he heard muffled cries coming from inside.
Oh my God, he thought. Bonnie!
He used the walls for balance and soon reached the bedroom, pushing the door open with a shoulder lunge and shouting Bonnie’s name. Inside, he saw Bonnie on the bed alone, on her back, dressed as she had been that morning. She lay with her hands behind her back and her ankles tied together. Her muffled cries were rendered unintelligible by the gag tied around her mouth. The sight of her made it impossible for Knight to think of anything else. He rushed inside the room, nearly tripping, and fell onto the bed near her side. He immediately removed the gag as she gasped for air, wide-eyed and hysterical. “Bonnie! I’m so sorry,” he said, stroking her hair. “Where is he? Are you hurt?”
She swallowed, gasping, and attempted to speak between labored breaths. “He’s… in the room!”
Knight’s senses began to return after the initial shock of seeing Bonnie bound and gagged. He glanced toward his nightstand on the other side of the bed and the chance to protect himself and Bonnie. But the hit came swift and relentless. A heavy piece of metal bashed him on the side of his head before he could even turn around. A white flash blazed across his eyes, his head quavering, and Knight was on the carpet, spittle leaking from his mouth, his consciousness fading along with Bonnie’s terrified screams in the background.
23
Trapped
Detective Harris stood in front of the captain’s desk and continued to brief him on everything that she had discovered. The task force had arrived the evening prior with plenty of theories of their own. The three FBI agents were courteous enough, but it was clear that they considered the case a federal matter. She hadn’t heard from Knight since he abruptly left her office the day before. She had called his phone multiple times and had even gone to his house that morning. His Jeep was in the driveway, but no one was home. She was incredibly worried about him but couldn’t convince the captain and the federal agents that finding him was a priority.
“He wouldn’t just leave like this,” she told them. “We had just established Caldwell as the prime suspect.”
Captain Star stretched his arms forward and groaned. “I don’t know, Detective. Charles Knight has been retired for five years. Maybe he went on a cruise with the wife. This case is no longer his responsibility.”
“A cruise? Come on, sir,” Harris said, indignant. “You can do better than that. Knight has vanished, and I think Caldwell is likely responsible.”
Lead Agent Kyle Langley stepped forward from his huddled group of black suits. “The IRS has been looking for Everett Caldwell for years. He’s currently wanted in two states. If we can pinpoint his location, we’ll have this thing wrapped up before suppertime.”
But Detective Harris knew that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Different theories about the Caldwells’ whereabouts had been floated around all morning. He could be living in a trailer or cabin without electricity or running water. He could be paying someone to hide on their property. He could even be living underground. There was little doubt that Everett Caldwell had utilized all his resources and finances to stay hidden over the years. He didn’t want to be found. But somewhere, there had to exist a fault in his plan.
He was living strictly off cash. His last known address was the mansion he owned in Hillsdale Heights. Following the loss of his civil suit against the county for the wrongful death of his son, Caldwell sold the property for an even million dollars and reportedly disappeared with his wife. The more Harris thought of it, the more everything began to come together. The kidnappings, car bombs, and murder were all linked in a grand, nefarious plan to cause as much mayhem and suffering as possible.
Agent Dante Peterson referred to a bulletin board in the captain’s office, pinned with pictures and newspaper articles about the Caldwells over the years. One article said: “Some might believe that the death of the boy was the catalyst in all of this, but according to associates, Everett had a fairly known dark side to him long before any of this happened. He’s a sick man, and his wife, no bastion of mental health herself, has gone along for the ride.”
“What do you suggest we do now?” Captain Star asked the agents. “A statewide manhunt is already in effect and has been since the bombing.”
Agent Langley nodded. “We’ve ordered air surveillance to commence within the hour. Caldwell’s name and image have been disseminated to every local, state, and federal agency in the country. It’s only a matter of time.” He paused and turned to Harris, hopeful. “With your excellent work, we’ve narrowed down the primary vehicle to this blue van. But I also wouldn’t be surprised if Caldwell has several different vehicles at his disposal.”
Agent Hector Ruiz walked from the window with his arms crossed and badge clipped to his coat. “Not to mention a variety of disguises. But we know exactly who we’re looking for now.”
Captain Star stood up and finished his mug of coffee. “You gentlemen showed up at the right time. We’re a little stretched thin with this Fall Harvest Festival today. Security is going to be pretty tight, given the circumstances.”
Standing in the center of the room, Harris thought to herself, trying to make sense of every little detail she had learned in the past day. Knight’s disappearance was no coincidence. She sensed that he was in trouble. But to find Knight seemed as difficult as finding Caldwell, the most wanted man in America. She politely excused herself from the room, telling the captain that she’d get back to him in a few. She couldn’t think straight with the FBI in the room. She had to go back to the basics and conduct some research. She had to investigate. Only then would she have an idea of where to find Knight and Felder’s killer.
* * *
Sunlight shined through the windshield. Knight awoke without any idea of where he was or how he had gotten there. His eyes flickered open and his head throbbed with pain. He was seated behind the wheel of an unfamiliar vehicle. Both his wrists were zip-tied to the steering wheel. He instinctively pulled away but couldn’t free himself. Panic set in as he heard two doors behind him slam shut. Approaching footsteps came from the side of the vehicle. He saw a man in the side mirror getting closer. Knight looked around, growing more anxious, as his memory returned and the reality of his situation began to set in.
The man in the mirror wore a hat and sunglasses, with a trucker’s vest, plaid shirt, and pants. His boots crunched across dead leaves thickly packed on the ground. They were surrounded by forest, and Knight didn’t hear any passing traffic. He pulled at the steering wheel again, grunting with labored breaths. The zip-ties were bound too tight. He felt fabric rubbing against his forehead and temple, as though his head had been wrapped in gauze. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror confirmed it.
His entire head had been bandaged all the way down to his forehead. A large bloodstain had seeped through on the side. The last thing Knight remembered was seeing Bonnie bound on their bed. He had naturally tried to free her, letting his guard down in the process. Everett must have been there behind him, waiting for the moment to strike. The rest was a complete blur. And then, as he began to study where he was, he realized that he was sitting at the wheel of the much sought-after getaway van.
The footsteps stopped, and the man he believed to be Everett Caldwell approached the open driver’s side window, pleased to see that Knight had awakened. “Well, it’s about time,” he said with a gravelly, boisterous tone. “I was about to throw some water in your face.”
Knight spoke in a hoarse tone. “Where’s my wife?”
Caldwell placed his gloved hands over the side of the door. He had a thick, dark mustache amid stubble on his cheeks. “Bonnie’s fine. You needn’t worry. I’ll release her as soon as you finish your part of the deal.” Knight jerked at the wheel with increased vigor, much to Caldwell’s continued amusement. “You won’t have much luck against those. They’re top-of-the-line. The thickest ones I could purchase.”
Knight lowered his head against the wheel and took a deep breath to calm himself. Knight said quietly, “I came to the house like you asked. I didn’t tell anyone. I’ve done exactly what you wanted.”
“And I’m proud of you,” Caldwell interjected.
“I knew that I was probably walking into an ambush the moment I stepped inside,” Knight continued. “Why don’t you just be honest and tell me if you plan on letting me and my wife live?”
Caldwell nodded along, considering the question. “Absolutely. I have no reason to kill either of you, unless you don’t follow instructions.”
Knight observed the surrounding forest, trying to figure out where they were. “What’s this all about? Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t you ruined enough lives?” he shouted.
Caldwell leaned in and placed a hand on Knight’s shoulder. “Patience, my friend. You took quite a blow to the head last night. After I hit you with that crowbar, I thought I might have killed you. But it looks like the great Detective Knight pulled through once again.” He paused and then spoke with a mocking tone. “And I’m sorry about your old partner. Who knew he would go and shoot himself like that? I wanted to corrupt him, that’s all. And now it’s your turn.”
“They’re going to find you, Caldwell. They’ll be breaking down your door in no time.”
Caldwell removed his hand and stepped back. “I’m sure they’ll try, to no avail. But the show must go on.” He suddenly knelt and rummaged through an open backpack lying at his feet. Knight thought of screaming for help or holding down the horn. But he didn’t want to further jeopardize Bonnie. Besides, who would hear? Birds chirped around them in peaceful serenity, undisturbed by what was taking place. Caldwell reappeared, holding a headset with an attached microphone. He then placed it on Knight’s head and backed up in admiration. “Looks great.”
“Fuck you,” Knight said, trying to shake the headset off.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Caldwell warned. “I need to be able to talk to you. And you’re going to want to talk to me.”
Knight ceased his thrashing and lowered his head again, seemingly defeated. “Now what? Just tell me the plan so we can get this over with.”
Caldwell tapped the side door, eager to begin. “Certainly. It’s simple. Families from all over will soon populate the Melville Fairgrounds for the annual Fall Harvest Festival. They’ll be plenty of food, drinks, games, rides, and live music. You will drive this van into the fairgrounds and await further instructions. I’ll be safely monitoring your progress from a distance through a GPS tracker. Once you reach the desired coordinates, I’ll release Bonnie.”
Knight turned to look behind him. The back seats had been removed. He instantly understood the plan. A black sheet lay atop several bulging rows of something, stacked four feet high, and consuming the entire rear floor. “You’re going to have to give me more than that, Caldwell. Why am I driving the van to the fairgrounds? What are you planning to do?” Asking, but already knowing.
“Do you mean, am I planning to detonate another bomb?” Caldwell asked, laughing. “Excellent question. And yes, in the back of the van are ten pressure cookers packed with explosives, fifty pounds each, to be exact. Once the timer begins, you will have a limited time to reach your destination. If you deviate, the bombs will go off. If anyone stops you, the bombs will go off.”
“And what if I make it?” Knight asked, baffled by the insane scheme. “Then what?”
Caldwell stroked his mustache and responded. “That is the question, isn’t it? Well, Charles, I imagine the police will surround you and eventually pull you from the van. I’ll give you time needed to clear the area and then promptly detonate the bombs via remote. You’ll explain to your law enforcement buddies how you were set up, they’ll soon find Bonnie, and you’ll never hear from me again.”
Knight tried to fathom the reasoning behind Caldwell’s plan. He also found it unlikely that he would survive. He was being used to drive a van full of explosives into the fairgrounds. It was that simple. Caldwell noticed his quiet uncertainty and offered more assurances.
“You’ve been doing fine so far. Don’t start second-guessing and doubting me now,” he said. “The excitement for me is seeing if you make it or not. I don’t want to kill anyone. I told you, I’m done with that. The fun is in creating mayhem and chaos. The destruction and the loss of life are last resorts. Why would I want to kill anyone if I didn’t have to?”
“Because you’re deranged,” Knight said. “And if you think that I’ll put anyone in harm’s way, you’ve got another think coming. Maybe Bonnie and I never had a chance.” If Knight was being used, he wanted to make it clear that he knew. Defiance coursed through him as he pulled against the wheel. The more he struggled, the more the zip-tie seemed to tighten at his aching wrists.
Caldwell examined him for a moment and then spoke. “I can understand the lack of trust, but you have a real chance of surviving this and continuing your retired bliss.”
Knight sat at the wheel, conflicted and searching for a way out. Part of him even wanted to believe Caldwell. Suddenly he heard the distant whirring of a helicopter. His eyes widened, and he tilted his head close to the window to listen. Caldwell stood frozen and quiet as the helicopter got louder. They were concealed under several overarching branches. Knight couldn’t see a thing above, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He tried to slide his hands closer to the horn with every intention of holding it down. But Caldwell seemed to notice and before Knight could do a thing, there was a pistol to his head.
“Don’t make me cut this whole thing short, Charles. I want to believe you can do this.”
“It’s over,” Knight said, increasingly defiant. “They’re looking for you everywhere. This van wi
ll never make it to the fairgrounds.”
Caldwell pressed the barrel of his pistol against Knight’s head. “Well, you better make sure that it does. If that involves a high-speed chase, so be it.” He lowered the pistol and backed away from the van, staring up into the sky. The helicopter got closer, then passed them completely, without hovering, without turning to take a second look. It seemed that Knight had no choice but to go through with it.
Caldwell then held up a familiar-looking cell phone, Bonnie’s phone. “It’s time. I’ll be talking to you the entire way. Once I guide you onto the main road, you should be able to get to the fairgrounds with no problem.” He walked to the back of the van and opened the doors. Knight turned his head and watched as Caldwell lifted part of the blanket, revealing several shiny brass pressure cookers. He covered them and began to press buttons on a small electronic module with wires running under the blanket. Caldwell glanced up and saw Knight watching him.
“The explosive devices are now armed.” He held up the module, displaying a ticking time display. “You have twenty minutes to reach your destination. Any deviations will be met with remote activation.” He lowered the module and slammed the doors without another word. Desperate, Knight turned back around and scoured the floor for anything he could use to cut the ties and escape but found nothing. Caldwell soon approached the window again, holding the cell phone at his mouth and ear. “You hear me through that thing?” His voice echoed through Knight’s headphone speakers. Knight nodded in response.
“Say something,” Caldwell demanded.
“Don’t do this,” Knight said. “Everett, please. We can get you the help you need. What they did to your son was tragic, a miscarriage of justice. This isn’t going to change a thing.”
Caldwell lowered the cell phone, satisfied as he gave him a thumbs up. “You’re coming through loud and clear.” He then opened the driver’s door and leaned over Knight to turn the ignition. The van engine roared to life as Knight felt his fate now sealed. “Press your foot on the brake,” Caldwell ordered.
