Nine Lives

by Gary Winston Brown

  Sirens in the distance. Help was on the way.

  Marissa gripped Mindy’s hand, held it tight. “Police,” she whispered.

  “Yes, honey,” Mindy assured her. “The police are coming.”

  A black and white LAPD squad car raced around the corner at the foot of the street, lights flashing, siren blaring, followed closely by an unmarked car.

  Marissa shook her head. “No… Police took the children.”

  Mindy couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “What did you say?”

  Marissa’s grip began to weaken. Mindy knew the signs. She was losing her.

  “It… was… the police,” Marissa said. Her hand fell to the ground.

  Mindy tapped her hand against Marissa’s face, tried to revive her. “Marissa… Marissa… wake up!”

  The police cars arrived on the scene, screeched to a halt just feet away from the two women. The uniformed officers exited their vehicle and ran to their aid. The doors to the unmarked sedan opened. The men stepped out, identified themselves. “FBI,” they told the police officers. “I’m Special Agent Laird. This is Special Agent Cummins. We’ll take it from here.”

  An ambulance rounded the corner, sped to the scene, blocked the road.

  Mindy held the stranger in her arms. Marissa had told her the police had taken the children. Impossible, she thought. That simply couldn’t be. What the hell was going on?

  Mindy provided Agent Laird with what little information Marissa had shared with her before she succumbed to shock and fainted. “That’s all I know,” she said. “Two children, taken by the police.”

  “We need more than that,” Laird said. Cummins had been conferring with LAPD while his partner interviewed the nurse. “There’ve been no calls to this street,” he reported. “No record of a traffic stop.”

  “Why would she lie?” Mindy asked. “That makes no sense.”

  The ambulance attendant lifted Marissa onto the gurney, checked her vitals. “She’s thready,” he said. “We need to move. Now.”

  “Go,” Agent Laird said. “We’ll take her statement at Emerg.”

  The paramedic nodded. “Meet you there.”

  The agent turned his attention back to Mindy. “Do you know the victim, ma’am?”

  “No, I don’t,” Mindy replied. She pointed to her home. “I live right there. I heard her scream and ran outside to see if I could help.” She paused.

  “What is it?” Laird asked.

  “I just realized something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’ve had a rash of burglaries in the area lately, parcel deliveries being stolen right off the front step.”

  Agent Laird looked puzzled and more than a little upset. “What has that got to do with…”

  “My husband just installed a RING system. You know, one of those doorbell cameras. Maybe it recorded the whole event.”

  “Can you access the footage?”

  “Yes. I can log into my account, view it online.”

  “We need to see that footage right away.”

  “Of course,” Mindy said. “Come with me.”

  The agents accompanied Mindy into her home as the ambulance siren blared to life.

  CHAPTER 30

  HERNANDO RUMMAGED THROUGH the supplies shed, gathered as many items as he could carry in his arms at one time, then hurried back to the main building and set the items on the front steps. Several trips later, everything that could be used in their defense had been removed. Among the items he had scavenged were a toolbox, boxes of nails, gallons of wood stain intended for use on the new fence, a large steel bucket full of broken ceramic floor tiles, propane cylinders from the barbecue, two large spools of electrical wire, a jerry can of gasoline and a spare battery from the van.

  Egan approved of the haul. “I can work with this,” he said.

  “Now what?” Hernando asked.

  “Now we make their visit very uncomfortable.” Egan grabbed a pair of wire cutters from the toolbox, handed them to Hernando. “Start with the wire. I’ll need as many lengths as you can cut. Make them about twenty feet long and bare the wire at both ends. I’ll set up the yard.”

  “Will do.”

  Egan grabbed the propane cylinders and ran to the stack of pressurized lumber he had positioned in front of the main gate. He moved several of the long posts aside, buried one of the two cylinders among the timbers and re-stacked the wood. Next, he ran to the van, pushed it away from the main building into the middle of the yard, opened the side door, and laid the second propane cylinder on the back seat.

  Hernando met him at the van. In his hand he held a dozen lengths of the prepared electrical wire. “Ready,” he said.

  “Good.” Egan said. “First, we’ll need the gasoline.” Hernando returned with the jerry can. Egan poured a thin line of the fuel over the tank safety valve, across the floor of the van and onto the ground. He forced one end of the bared electrical wire into the small pool of fuel at his feet. “Cover the wire with dirt and run the line inside.”

  “You’ve got it,” Hernando replied.

  Egan ran to the woodpile with the gas can, repeated the process, buried the second length of electrical wire with loose dirt, then ran it back to the main building.

  Both propane cylinders were ready.

  “Grab the wood stain. Throw in as many nails and pieces of broken tile as you can.” Egan said. He pointed to two large open areas on the grounds. “We’ll need one there, and one there. Leave the lids off. Same drill. One end of the wire goes in the liquid, then bury the line back to the building.”

  Hernando asked, “You’ve done this before?”

  Egan smiled. “You could say that.”

  “When Mendoza arrives, he’ll bring a small army with him.”

  Egan nodded. “Probably.”

  “You’re not worried?”

  “Just about you.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Damn right,” Egan said. “Marcella and the kids are waiting for you at the daycare. You better be there for them when this is over.”

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  “There’s a good chance the place is going to need a few renovations by the time we’re done.”

  “It was ready for a new coat of paint.”

  “You’ll probably need a new van, too.”

  “I was thinking more along the line of a minibus.”

  Egan looked around the property. “You’ve got a real nice place here, Hernando.”

  “I know,” the old man said. “Seems a shame we have to blow it up.”

  CHAPTER 31

  AIDEN HELD HIS SISTER’S HAND. “Where are you taking us?” he asked.

  Elton Mannafort glanced at the children in the rear-view mirror, said nothing.

  “Who are you?” Aiden asked.

  Still no reply.

  Emma piped up. “Our mom is an FBI agent, you know. Do you have any idea how totally screwed you are?”

  “Tell them to shut up,” Elton said.

  “Why? They’re not going to listen to me.”

  “Do you really want to listen to them blather on for the next hundred miles?”

  “They’ll settle down.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Like you dealt with the old man?”

  “If it comes to that, yes.”

  Aiden and Emma stared at Elton, listened as he carried on the conversation with himself.

  Elton spoke to the children. “I strongly recommend you sit quietly and behave yourselves. We have a long way to go.”

  Aiden whispered to his sister. “He’s fruitier than Fruit Loops.”

  “Totally whackadoodle,” Emma replied.

  Aiden looked for a door handle to open, couldn’t find one. A hard, flat plastic panel had replaced the backseat door wall. Even the passenger windows had been modified to prevent escape. Vertical steel bars obstructed his view. By design, the seat was cramped and uncomforta
ble. A plexiglass panel, reinforced with wire mesh, separated them from their captor. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a miniature jail.

  “What did you do to Marissa?” Aiden asked.

  “Nothing,” Elton replied.

  “Bullshit!”

  Elton turned, glanced at the boy. “Does your mother permit you to use that kind of language with adults?”

  “Only if he’s an asshole,” Aiden said. “Which you are.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Elton picked up the stun stick from the passenger seat, held it up. “I gave her a little jolt with this, knocked her out. She’s probably wide awake by now and none the worse for wear.”

  “What kind of sicko kidnaps a couple of kids?” Aiden asked. He was purposely trying to irritate the man, get under his skin.

  “The same kind who won’t hesitate to kill your sister if you don’t shut up,” Elton replied.

  Aiden wanted to continue pressing the man, but something in the tone of his voice told him he was serious. He wouldn’t put Emma’s life in jeopardy, not for anything. He would have to wait it out. Besides, he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be found. What the jerk didn’t know was that he already had two major strikes against him from the very minute he’d gotten himself into this mess. First, the Federal Bureau of Investigation didn’t take too kindly to someone messing with one of their own, least of all a child. Second, he had underestimated their mother’s celebrity as a renowned psychic. Once word got out about the kidnapping every news agency in the country would blanket the airwaves with the story. Their pictures would be everywhere. There wouldn’t be a two-bit town or major city across the nation that wouldn’t be on the lookout for them. There was, yet again, another advantage they had over the moron he didn’t know about: their mother had prepared them for just such an emergency.

  Years ago, the tragic death of their father and grandparents had left an indelible mark on their family. When the children were old enough to understand, Jordan sat them down and made them fully aware of the privileged station in life they had inherited by being born a Quest. She had insisted the children learn how to handle themselves. Like his mother, Aiden had proven himself to be a gifted athlete, earning his first-degree junior black belt at Rising Sun Martial Arts Academy in a record four years. It had taken his instructor five. Emma had not followed her brother into the martial arts, but her flexibility, core strength and an uncanny sense of balance had made her one of the nations top competitive gymnasts. Her coaches, wholly impressed with the young girl, had already discussed her potential to compete at the Olympic level. Plans were underway to make that dream a reality.

  “You never answered my first question,” Aiden repeated.

  “Which was?”

  “Where are you taking us?”

  Elton refused to be intimidated by the boy. “You’ll know when we get there,” he replied.

  “Why won’t you tell me?” Aiden pressed. “You scared? I’ll bet you are. You should be.”

  “The country.”

  “Where specifically?”

  “My place.”

  They had left the city behind now, hit the Interstate. Aiden looked out the window, tried to discern familiar landmarks, saw none. He had absolutely no idea where they were.

  “You’ll like it,” Elton said. “Its a great place for kids. Plenty of fresh air, lots of room to run around. You’re going to love it.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Sure you will. It might take a little getting used to, but you’ll grow to love it.”

  “You know you’re completely screwed, right?”

  Elton began to rock back and forth in his seat. “I told you,” he said. “The little shit is going to ruin it for both of us.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Once he sees the place, he’ll be fine.”

  “So you say.”

  “That’s right. And my opinion is the only one that counts.”

  “This wasn’t a good idea and you know it.”

  “The bitch has to pay for what she did.”

  “You could have handled her any number of ways. Instead, you took her kids. That was stupid.”

  “It’ll teach her a lesson she’ll never forget.”

  “You know what you’ll have to do when we get there, don’t you?”

  “There’s plenty of time for that.”

  “You said the same thing about Carnie Schumacher until the cops broke the door down. Look what happened after that!”

  Elton paused. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right. We can’t let that happen again.”

  Elton turned his attention back to Aiden. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “What’s going to be okay?” Aiden asked.

  Elton checked his side mirror, executed a lane change, then set the cruise control to the posted speed limit.

  “Everything,” he replied.

  CHAPTER 32

  MINDY ABERFOYLE WELCOMED FBI Special Agents Jim Laird and Bill Cummins into her home. “My computer’s in the den,” she said. The agents followed her as she hurried down the hallway past the kitchen, living and dining rooms, pushed open the double French doors, sat down at her desk, flipped open the lid to her PC and entered her password. The computer screen flickered to life.

  “I can access the doorbell’s video footage from the app,” Mindy said. She logged into the RING cloud server, found the camera labeled FRONT DOOR and launched the saved video.

  Watching the video, the agents observed Marissa stop her vehicle outside Mindy’s house and wait for the police car to pull in behind her. Seconds later, the unmarked sedan, its grill lights flashing, came into view and stopped a few feet behind the SUV. Two children could be seen in the back seat of the car.

  “Did you see the police car pull up?” Agent Laird asked.

  Mindy shook her head. “I’m seeing this for the first time too. I was drawn to the sound of a woman screaming.” She pointed to the screen. “By the time I ran outside the police car was gone and Marissa was on the ground. I never saw the children until now.” The nurse covered her mouth. “Oh, God,” she said. “Those poor kids must be frightened to death.”

  “Can you download this footage?” Agent Cummins asked.

  Mindy nodded. “I can save the video to my PC and send you the file.”

  “Thank you. We’ll need it right away.”

  “Of course,” Mindy replied.

  To his partner, Laird said, “Can I speak with you privately?”

  Cummins nodded.

  “Ms. Aberfoyle, would you excuse us for just a moment?” Laird asked.

  “Certainly,” Mindy said.

  The agents walked down the hall, entered the kitchen. Laird leaned against the counter, folded his arms. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I’d say we’re in pretty good shape,” Cummins replied. “Were it not for the doorbell cam we’d have nothing to go on.”

  “I didn’t see him touch the car. Did you?”

  Cummins shook his head.

  “So much for prints.”

  “Regardless,” Cummins said, “we’ll have Evidence Response go over it. We might get lucky.”

  “The video capture of the UNSUB and the Quest children is very clear. Good enough to use for an Amber Alert.”

  Cummins nodded. “We’ll get it over the air right away.”

  Laird agreed. “We need to get to the hospital and talk to Marissa DeSola. Maybe she can help fill in the blanks.”

  “Better brace yourself, Jim. There’ll be a lot of eyeballs on this one, all the way to the top.”

  “I know. Quest is the darling of the Director.”

  “And for good reason,” Cummins qualified. “She helped saved his daughters’ lives years ago.”

  “I’m not taking anything away from he,” Laird said. “She’s a damn fine agent. Buy why the hell would anyone want
to target her kids?”

  “We’ve all made enemies along the way. It comes with the territory. I can think of more than a few bad guys who wouldn’t mind taking a shot at either of us.”

  Mindy’s sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor as she left her office and walked down the hall. Out of respect for the agent’s privacy she rapped twice on the wall before entering the kitchen. She held up a flash drive. “I made a copy of the video for you,” she said. “I hope it helps.”

  “It’s critical,” Agent Laird said. “Thank you.”

  “Have you heard any more about Marissa? Is she okay?”

  “Not yet,” Cummins replied. “We’re on our way to the hospital now.”

  “If it’s not too much to ask, would you give her my regards?”

  “We’ll be happy to.”

  Hearing the front door open, Mindy stepped out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Ron, her husband, had arrived home. “How was your golf game, dear?” she asked.

  “Excellent,” Ron replied. He closed the door behind him. “Shot an eighty. Hey, did you know there’s an unmarked cop car parked in front of our—”

  He stopped short as Laird and Cummins stepped into the hallway behind his wife.

  “Mindy, what’s going on?” Ron asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine, honey,” Mindy replied. “These men are with the FBI.”

  “FBI?”

  The agents produced their identification. “Your wife has been helping us with an investigation,” Laird said.

  “Investigation?” Ron asked. He looked puzzled. He was still trying to process what two federal agents were doing in his house.

  “It’s a long story,” Mindy said. “Let me make you a cup of tea. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Better make it a scotch,” Ron replied.

  Agent Cummins smiled. “It’s nothing to worry about, Mr. Aberfoyle. Like your wife says, she’ll fill you in on what happened.” The agents walked to the vestibule, opened the front door. “We have to be on our way.”

  “If I can be of any further help please don’t hesitate to contact me,” Mindy said.