by Barbara Gee
Jeff sat down at the computer in the room, minimized the video file and typed the hat slogan into Google. None of them expected much, but they were still disappointed when nothing relevant came up.
Emma returned to the conference room to let them know the sign language lady would be there in a twenty minutes. While they waited, they showed Emma the part of the video they’d been discussing.
“I agree he’s drawing attention to his hat. But how in the world do we figure out what Shit Kickin’ Service means? It could apply to almost any type of business as long as its customers aren’t the kind to take offense at a crude slogan. And I’m guessing it’s in a small town, where everyone knows what the slogan is referring to even without the name of the business on the hat.”
Tucker tapped his pen on the table, an idea forming. “Maybe a plumber? There are plenty of places in the North Carolina backwoods where that kind of slogan would be totally acceptable. And since plumbers deal with shit, kind of, it might work.”
“Or a septic tank service,” Emma mulled.
Tim nodded. “Or even some kind of agricultural enterprise that deals with animal waste. The list could go on, and we’ve got a huge search area. Who knows how many plumbers or septic services or whatever else there could be within our perimeter.”
“We’ll get help,” Tuck said. “We need to start calling local police departments within the perimeter and see whether that slogan rings a bell with anyone. Don’t only ask whoever answers the phone, tell them to put it to the whole department, especially any old timers who might recognize the slogan even if the business is defunct.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Tim checked his watch. “Let’s divide up the area and start calling. Hopefully the night shift officers won’t forget to pass our request on to the day shift.
“Tell them a girl’s life depends on it,” Tuck said grimly.
Jeff was already printing a list of police departments and contact information. He divvied it up between the four of them, and they each managed to get a few calls in before the sign language expert arrived.
Emma introduced her as Kim Jamieson, a signer for the Charlotte city school system who also did consulting for law enforcement and the courts when needed.
“Thanks for coming here in the middle of the night, Mrs. Jamieson,” Tuck said sincerely, shaking her hand.
“Call me Kim, and I’m happy to try to help. So you have a video of someone signing?” she asked, getting right down to business.
“We think so.” Tuck ushered her into the conference room and they sat down as Emma found the pertinent video clip. “His arm is hanging straight down because he doesn’t want to be seen, but we’re pretty sure he’s spelling something out.”
Kim Jamieson watched the clip, her mouth gaping in horror at what was happening to Madison. She swallowed hard when it was over, then requested that the clip be played again. She took a pad of paper from her briefcase and started writing. “It’s definitely sign language,” she confirmed. “But I’m not sure I’ll be able to get many of the letters, because of the hand position. I’ll do the best I can, then hopefully we can fill in the blanks Wheel of Fortune style.”
She watched the clip a dozen times, then pushed her pad over to Tuck. “That’s all I can get. The lighting is poor where he’s standing, and his palm is facing inward, so I can’t see his thumb positions. Plus he’s tying not to be noticed, so his signs aren’t crisp. This was harder than I expected.”
Tucker looked at her paper.
A L _ I _ _ T _ U B _ _ _ _ _ _ K
“Those letters are the only ones I’m almost positive of. I’m not completely sure how many I’m missing, but I put the blanks in as best I could.”
Kim sounded apologetic, and as Tuck looked over what she’d written, his heart sank. He had been hoping for a clear message, one that would pinpoint the gang’s location and allow a quick rescue of Madison. But this, well, it wasn’t much help at all.
“Thanks for this, Kim,” he said, trying to hide the disappointment that left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’ll get some agents working on it, trying all kinds of letter combinations. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“I’m sorry I can’t do more. That man is trying hard to tell us something, and I wish I could figure it out.”
“I’m sure this will help. It’s a start, anyway,” Tuck told her kindly. “We’ll let you get back home, and we’ll call if there’s anything else. Unfortunately we’re expecting more videos, so we might have more attempts.”
Kim swallowed hard. Watching the young woman being beaten had obviously shaken her, but she remained professional. “I’ll be available whenever needed, day or night.”
“Appreciate it.”
Tuck saw her out, then returned to the conference room and slumped into a chair. Emma had already picked up the sheet of paper Kim had left and was punching the letters into her computer. After a moment she projected the letters and spaces onto the wall, where they all stared at them.
“Dammit,” Tim said. “I’d hoped for a lot more than that.”
“We’ve still got the hat,” Tuck reminded them. “Let’s get back to making those phone calls. Looks like that slogan might be our best bet after all.”
“Emma, do you feel like there’s anything we can do with these letters?” Tim asked. “Is there some kind of algorithm the FBI has access to that could give us all the possibilities?”
“Probably, but there are so many blanks, and we don’t even know where one word ends and the other begins. Our guy was probably too nervous and in too much of a hurry to give us the word breaks. Even if I can find something to start running possibilities there are probably thousands of combinations to go through, if not millions.”
“See what you can find anyway,” Tim urged. “Let’s see what we’re up against before we rule it out.”
“I’m going to my office to call some more police departments,” Tuck said. He left the others and went to his desk. He sat down and rubbed his eyes wearily. They were gritty and burning, but sleep wasn’t an option. Not when Madison Harper was lying badly injured on a hard, filthy floor somewhere, surrounded by depraved men and their psychopathic leader who had a major bone to pick with Tucker.
Before picking up the phone, Tuck bowed his head. Please help us figure this out, Lord. Help us save Madison. She’s innocent and she’s suffering. Give her the strength to hang on until we get there. Give her comfort and hope, Lord, don’t let her give up. Take care of her until I can get to her.
Chapter 7
It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist. Madison lay still, taking shallow breaths, trying to ignore her thirst. She wasn’t hungry, she hurt too badly to think about eating, but she was so very thirsty.
Thankfully someone had put a baggy tee shirt on her, but the cement floor was still terribly cold and unforgiving. Wherever her body was pressed against it she felt numb, but she couldn’t move to ease the pressure points. She had tried that as soon as she’d regained consciousness, and the pain had taken her breath away.
Maddy knew her injuries were bad. Her face felt double its normal size and her nose was completely plugged, probably because it was broken. If the duct tape hadn’t been removed from her mouth, she would have suffocated.
She knew she had some broken ribs, as there was no way she could have taken Jimmy’s repeated blows without the bones giving way. Her right leg throbbed intensely, and she couldn’t move it so much as an inch without the pain almost causing her to black out. Since she didn’t remember Jimmy hitting her leg, she assumed he had continued the beating even after she passed out.
She shuddered to think what else he might have done while she was unconscious, but she was still wearing her pants, so she hoped that meant he hadn’t gone further than hitting her.
Realistically, Maddy knew her chances of surviving were slim, but she didn’t want to focus on that. The important thing was that the man who enjoyed torturing girls be stopped.
Since she wa
s still here, Jimmy must not have gotten what he wanted out of Tucker Simon. Hopefully that meant Tucker had listened to her plea to disregard her own wellbeing and focus on taking Jimmy down.
Maddy wished she could fight back. It had felt so good to smash Jimmy’s nose, even though it had made things worse for her. The man was pure evil, and she was willing to do whatever she could to stop him. In her current physical state, however, that wasn’t much.
Jimmy had promised another video, so maybe there would be an opportunity to get a message to Tucker through that. Of course that meant she would be Jimmy’s “star” again, and the thought of her already broken and pain wracked body being beaten again caused tears to run down her cheeks.
She closed her eyes and willed them to stop; she didn’t want to give Jimmy the satisfaction of seeing any weakness.
Forcing her mind off the fear and pain that threatened to overwhelm her, Maddy tried to concentrate on her surroundings. The large room she was in seemed to be empty, although she didn’t know that for sure since she was facing the wall.
The room was dimly lit. Maddy knew from the day before that there were no windows, just a few bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. She had no idea if it was day or night, and no idea how long she’d been out. However long it was, it had been enough to dehydrate her to the point that it was hard to think about anything other than water and pain.
She could hear a murmur of voices, and occasional laughter, but it was too far away to make out any words. Focus, Maddy. She tried to breathe slow and steady, small breaths that caused minimal pain to her ribs.
The voices got louder, and then she heard footsteps entering the room and coming toward her. Her heart began pounding so hard her whole body seemed to vibrate with each beat.
“Think she’s still alive?”
Maddy recognized Skinny’s voice, who she now knew was named Russ.
“Only one way to tell,” an unknown voice said.
Maddy gasped when a boot heel hooked over her hipbone and she was flipped onto her back. The pain was blinding, excruciating, and although she tried to fight the blackness she couldn’t. Once again, she passed out.
“Wake up, you little bitch.”
Madison opened her eyes. She felt sluggish and her mind was foggy, but she recognized Jimmy’s hideous voice. Her eyes finally focused on him, and in spite of everything, seeing his swollen nose gave her a fleeting sense of satisfaction.
“You look like crap, sweet cheeks. How ya feelin’?”
Several men laughed, and then Jimmy squatted down beside her.
“I took pity on you, sweet cheeks. Forced some Vicodin down your throat while you were out. Don’t you feel better?”
The pain had indeed diminished considerably, but Madison didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. However, she couldn’t help staring at the bottle of water in his hand. He noticed and waved it slowly in front of her face.
“Still a little thirsty? Zeke just about drowned you trying to get you to swallow the pills. It was his idea to give you something to take the edge off, and I had to agree cuz my good buddy Agent Simon seems to need a little more persuasion. That means we gotta keep you alive and awake a while longer.”
He cracked open the bottle of water and held it above her face. “Want some, sweet cheeks?”
Maddy wanted to tell him to stuff it, but when he started dribbling water onto her face she couldn’t help but open her swollen lips to try to catch it. He played with her for a while, much to the amusement of the other men present, giving her only a few mouthfuls total while pouring the rest of the precious liquid over her face. Maddy bore the humiliation without comment, telling herself that the little bit of water she’d managed to swallow would make her that much stronger when Jimmy decided to resume torturing her.
Jimmy reached out and poked at her swollen cheeks. Maddy hit at his hands but the movement jostled her ribs and even the Vicodin couldn’t stop the sudden pain that brought tears to her eyes and had her gasping for breath.
“What do you think, boys? What should we do with our little sweet cheeks tonight when the camera goes live?”
“I got me some ideas,” one man called out, “if you feel like sharin’.”
“I might just do that,” Jimmy drawled, standing up and dropping the now empty water bottle on her stomach. “I prefer women with a little more meat on ‘em, myself. This one ain’t doin’ it for me. She’s fun to hit, though. Maybe I’ll break a few more bones, then let you boys have a shot at her. See if that changes Agent Simon’s mind about granting me my wishes. We got five hours till showtime. You’ll be ready, right, Abe?”
“I’ll be ready,” the technical guy promised. “I had all day to figure out how to cover our tracks. We’ll bounce around so many servers the FBI will get dizzy trying to keep up. I just hope last night doesn’t come back to haunt us.”
The man’s articulate speech confused Maddy. How had a man who was seemingly very well versed in technical matters ended up working for someone like Jimmy? Was it purely for the money? It was sad how low some people were willing to go to make a profit.
Maddy tried to concentrate on the conversations around her, but the men soon dispersed to find food, and she still hadn’t heard anything that helped her to know where they were. It didn’t look like she’d be able to get any information to Tucker after all.
As the men cleared out and left her alone, Maddy closed her eyes and prayed. She poured out her fears and her pain, and her regret that she might die tonight with so much left unaccomplished.
A measure of peace gradually settled over her, and Maddy believed that with God’s help, no matter what happened to her that night, she could handle it. Her suffering would be short in the face eternity, and if tonight took her to the gates of heaven, so be it.
Her thoughts turned once again to Tucker Simon. Would he be able to handle the outcome, whatever it might be? Or would he blame himself and dwell on what he could have done differently? It couldn’t be easy for him to listen to Jimmy’s taunting, and if she were killed she figured it would cut deep.
Maddy prayed that God’s peace would extend to the FBI agent, at this moment and at the culmination of her ordeal. And she prayed that through it all, Jimmy would be caught and locked up, preventing him from harming any more people, ever again.
An hour later, with the Vicodin wearing off fast, Maddy heard the group of men returning. They sounded raucous and drunk, and she knew things were going to get bad fast.
Chapter 8
At three o’clock, Tim ordered Tucker to try to get some sleep. Although he wanted to argue, it was a direct order from his boss. One of the back offices in their building had a pull-out sofa that Tuck had used before, and since he wasn’t about to actually leave the building, it would have to do. He locked himself in the room and took a pillow and blanket from the closet. He sank onto the edge of the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
The day had been terrible and he knew it would only get worse. Their phone calls to police departments asking about the “shit kickin’ service” slogan had yielded nothing more than promises to spread the word. Emma had done her best with the sign language letters, but in the end she’d turned the project over to a technical specialist at Langley, who promised to tweak a software package he had written for something else to see whether it would yield anything in this situation. He wasn’t too hopeful.
Tuck wondered whether Jimmy had hurt Madison during the day, or if he was waiting to capture it all on camera, with his captive audience in place.
Tuck despised feeling so clueless. The man in the green hat had bravely tried to lead them to Madison, but they’d failed. They were no closer to finding her than they’d been in the beginning, and Tuck was so tired, so very tired. He’d slept little since finding out that Jimmy was sending men to Chandler, and he’d been up for thirty-four hours this stretch. His brain was shutting down and he knew Tim had been right to make him rest.
Fallin
g back onto the sofa, Tuck wearily stretched out his legs to lie flat on the makeshift bed, his hands linked over his stomach. He closed his eyes, only to have Madison Harper roll on a continual loop through his head.
He remembered every detail of the video. His first glimpse of her tied to the pole. Her beautiful face. Her incredible head butt right into Jimmy’s nose, and the way her eyes had crinkled just a bit at the corners when he’d howled in outrage, giving evidence of the smile that the duct tape hid.
He remembered her determined look when she’d spoken directly to the camera, directly to him, begging him to forget about her and focus on taking Jimmy down. Her gaze falling to the floor when Jimmy cut her shirt off, her face suffused with both anger and humiliation. Her eyes going wide when Jimmy had landed the first punch to her stomach, knocking the breath out of her for what seemed like forever as Tuck willed her to breathe and contract her abdominal muscles to protect the organs beneath as long as possible. Her refusal to make a sound as Jimmy delivered one blow after another.
He remembered her head hanging low when her body had reached its limit of abuse and she lost consciousness.
Tuck ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. If they didn’t find her soon it would be too late. He knew that Jimmy fully intended to kill her, thus increasing Tuck’s torment. It was Jimmy’s way of meting out punishment to a man who had dared to oppose him, and it was turning out to be pretty damn effective.
His exhaustion finally trumped the movie reel of Madison in his head, and Tucker slept for five hours. It wasn’t enough to make him feel anywhere close to well rested, but his mind felt a little bit clearer. He showered in the small staff locker room and changed into the spare jeans and tee shirt he always kept in his office.
Entering the conference room, he saw that Emma and Dan were back from their six hour break. Marcus and Jeff were also there, and Emma informed him that Tim would be back in another hour or so. Tuck nodded, glad that the whole team would be present and accounted for by the time they received tonight’s link from Jimmy.
