by John R. Kess
“One reason, I suppose, is to keep anyone from looking for her. The kidnappers could then target those who would inherit her money. They’d have to wait awhile for the beneficiaries to collect, but if they could convince them that she’s still alive, they could try it. Do you know who inherits her money?”
“According to Elly’s will,” Beckholm said, “a fourth of her money goes to a variety of charities, her parents each get a fourth, and twin brother Nick gets a fourth.”
“That’s a big payday for the family.”
There was a long silence as Beckholm stared at his list.
“I see a few things we can check on right now,” West said. “I’ll get someone to track down all fuel purchases, concentrating on small airports along the flight path. I’ll make sure the pilot’s bank records are idle and haven’t been cleaned out in the last couple months. In fact, if we get enough probable cause, we should have a search warrant issued for his place in LA.”
“We don’t have enough for that yet,” Beckholm said.
“You know, that door is the key. It would tell us if we are talking about an accident or not.”
“How do we find it?” Beckholm asked.
“Well, we know they first couldn’t make radio contact with the plane when it was crossing over the Idaho/Washington border, so that’s the western edge of your search area. Since we know the maximum range of the plane on one tank of fuel and we know where it crashed, we can find the eastern edge of your search area. Confine the search area to a mile in both directions of the last known heading.”
“You’re still talking—and I’m just guessing here—a flight path about 1,500 miles long. A mile in both directions means 3,000 square miles of search area.”
“Well, then, confine it to half a mile in both directions,” West said. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“There’s got to be thousands of pieces of steel and scrap iron the size of the missing door that would show up in that much area. It’d take forever to search everything.”
“You haven’t seen what I have. If you get an over-flight of the area with the right equipment, you not only get a reading of where every piece of steel is in the search area, but you have a continuous photograph with such high resolution you can zoom in and see the individual bricks on someone’s patio. You can read license plate numbers from 50,000 feet. If you get the proper group of technicians, I bet they could narrow it down to a hundred potential sites in twenty-four hours. The FAA would be staffed with enough people to do the searching on the ground.”
“My boss is going to love this,” Beckholm said, sarcastically.
“Well,” West said, “if someone sabotaged her plane, you’re looking at the biggest case of your career and probably your boss’s as well. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
* * *
Michael Belgrade’s and Dexter Quast’s groups gathered together and shared confused looks. Belgrade’s plan to send a second team ahead of Elly and her unknown companion to cut them off hadn’t worked. He cursed and shook his head, wondering how they could have evaded him.
He’d been furious ever since he’d lost men at the airport and Elly got away. He was past the point of no return. Aborting the mission was not an option. Elly could identify him she would tell the authorities that he, the pilot, was in on the kidnapping attempt. He had to find her before she got out of the woods.
Belgrade pulled out his map and used his GPS unit to find his location. The men gathered around.
Belgrade pointed at Quast. “I want you and your men to keep moving. Whoever is with the girl is taking her to the highway north of here.” He pointed at the map. “It’s the only logical way out of here.”
“What are you going to do?” Quast asked.
“I’m going to get some help. If you don’t get them first, we’ll be ready to ambush them at the highway. Make sure you kill the bastard with her.”
* * *
Strong wind gusts brought the storm in quickly. Elly and Jay set up the tent and moved everything inside while the sky grew black and big raindrops poured down with increasing frequency.
“Jay, can you look at something? It kind of hurts.”
“What is it?” Jay found his flashlight.
“I think I have a cut on my back. It’s from that stick that poked me when we were under the tree.” Elly turned her back as she knelt in front of Jay. “Can you help me with this?” She wrestled her handcuffs as she tried to pull up her shirt. Jay helped her lift it from the back.
Jay had never known that shoulders could have a particularly nice shape, that one back could have a more pleasant contour than another, that wet, mud-plastered hair could look perfectly done when against bare skin like Elly’s. The perfect symmetry highlighted by the vertical line of small bumps her vertebrae formed kept his gaze.
He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be looking at an injury, which turned out to be just a small scratch between Elly’s shoulder blades. He cleared his throat and managed to say, “I don’t know if this is ever going to heal.”
“What?”
“We may have to do surgery right here in the tent.”
“Jay! How bad is it?”
“You’ve got a small scratch,” Jay said, “but it doesn’t look infected.”
“Where?”
“Right here.”
“Don’t touch it!”
“I’m not going to touch it.”
Jay’s finger drew a circle twice around the cut on her soft skin.
“Don’t move.” He dug through his backpack. “I have some ointment.” Jay wiped his finger off and then squeezed some of the clear gel onto it. “Here we go.”
“Wait!” Elly arched her back away from Jay before he was able to do anything. “It’s going to sting, isn’t it?”
Jay laughed. “It’s ointment, not lemon juice.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’ll only hurt about ten times worse than a bee sting.”
“What?” Elly moved away again, nearly losing her balance.
Jay laughed and gently put one hand on her shoulder and carefully covered the scratch with ointment.
“You’re good as new,” Jay said.
* * *
The president of the United States hit a button on his oval office phone. “Jenny.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“I’d like to speak to Director Holtz please.” Frank Holtz was the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
It took Jenny a moment to connect them.
“Good evening, Mr. President,” Director Holtz said.
“Good evening, director. I’m calling about the Wittenbel plane crash.” The president had been briefed by one of his staff that Director Holtz had submitted a proposal to use a U-2 spy plane to search for the door that came off Elly’s plane. “I want to know if it’s possible that it could have been a terrorist act.”
“We haven’t ruled out anything yet, Mr. President.”
“Then I am authorizing your proposal to find the door that came off the plane carrying Elly Wittenbel. This will be classified as a training exercise. If you’re not getting the cooperation of the FAA and the Air Force, you call me right away, and I’ll see to it that you do. This is a perfect cross-functional opportunity to show how well we can work together. I want that door found in the next thirty-six hours.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
* * *
Elly lay down on the sleeping bag and stared at Jay. Her back still tingled from when he had traced the circle around her scratch.
“Are you staring at me?” Jay asked playfully.
“I was just wondering how I would explain this if some random person were to find us. I mean, here I am, in a tent in the middle of nowhere, in the pouring rain, with a handsome young Marine, wearing handcuffs. What would they think of me?”
“Well, what about me?”
“What about you?”
�
��How would I explain being found with a beautiful young singer? They’re known for being trouble, and I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, you do?”
“We Marines are supposed to have high standards.”
Elly gave Jay a playful shove.
He smiled. “See what I mean? Nothing but trouble.”
When Jay turned around to return the ointment to his bag, Elly jumped on his shoulders, knocking them both into the wall of the tent. Elly shrieked laughter as Jay grabbed her legs with one arm and put his other arm behind her back. He lifted her up with little effort and gently flopped her onto the sleeping bag. Elly wrapped her legs around Jay’s waist and struggled to hold on, but he broke free and spun around to face her. She grabbed his leg and tried to pull him off his balance, but it was no use. The weight of his chest overwhelmed her as he lay across her torso. She laughed, trying to push him off.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Elly said as Jay grabbed the chain of the handcuffs and held it above her head.
“Marines are trained to win, not fight fair.”
“What makes you think you’ve won?” she said, pulling on his arm.
Jay laughed as she struggled for a moment longer, and then he let go.
He paused before pushing himself off of her, his face not far from hers. They stared into each others’ eyes. Elly’s mind raced with questions. Is he going to kiss me? My breath stinks! Do I want him to kiss me? His breath stinks! Does he want to kiss me?
“Maybe singers aren’t so bad,” Jay said, smiling. He returned to digging in his backpack.
Elly closed her eyes as the tingling feeling returned and spread through her whole body.
Chapter 10
The storm had slowed to a steady shower with distant lightning and rumbles of thunder. Elly watched as Jay dug out all his rifle shells and laid them next to his bag. She sat up and tried to figure out what he was doing. He pulled out his large hunting knife and strapped it to his right ankle. She froze at the idea he was preparing to leave.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Jay didn’t answer right away. He dug in his bag again, and then he said, “I have to leave for a while.”
“What? No, you’re not leaving.” Elly grabbed his arm. She thought of the two men who’d nearly found them today, and the last thing she wanted was for Jay to leave her right now.
Jay stopped digging and looked at her. “Elly, I have to see what we’re up against.”
“You saw those two men today. What more do you need to see?”
“There’s more than two.”
“But—”
“If we’re going to make it out of her alive, I need to go.”
Elly couldn’t believe it. She loosened her grip, and he moved away.
Jay put on his camouflage hat. “There is a highway that runs east and west about twenty miles north of here. If, for some reason, I don’t come back by sunrise—”
“If for some reason! What are you going to—”
Jay cut her off. “If I don’t come back by sunrise, I want you to leave the tent, take only enough water and food for one day, and don’t stop walking until you get there. Keep the sun on your right in the morning and on your left in the afternoon. Do you understand?”
Elly could only respond with a slight nod.
“What’s your middle name?” Jay asked.
“Joanna. After my mother. Why?”
“Then our code word is Joanna. If someone approaches this tent and the first word out of their mouth isn’t Joanna, you’ll know it’s not me.” Jay handed Elly a small pocketknife, and she stared down at it. “Conceal this in your hand. Pick your moment, and stab the person in the neck. Then run as fast as you can.”
Elly lowered her head. It made no sense to her that he was leaving.
“Hey,” he said, hooking his finger under her chin until she locked eyes with him. “This is what I was trained to do. Besides, they can’t see me. I’m a soldier in the United States Marine Corps, which means I’m a ghost.” Jay smiled at Elly. “I’ll be back soon.”
Jay zipped the tent closed without a final good-bye. Elly opened the small canvas flap on the screen window, but her ghost was already gone.
* * *
Nick closed the door to his Ford Mustang and took his time surveying the nearly empty school parking lot to make sure no one noticed him. Throwing his gym bag over his shoulder, he headed for one of the many rear doors of his old high school. He unlocked the door with a key he had kept from his days as the football team’s captain. Coach had never asked for it back, and Nick didn’t offer it up. He checked over his shoulder again to make sure no one saw him enter.
The weight room, with its scattered dumbbells, hanging weight belts, mirrored walls, and strong odor of sweat was just as Nick remembered it. He stretched and then jogged in place, letting his arms hang loose, whipping them back and forth across his chest, then up and down over his head and behind his back. Nick taped his wrists and secured his boxing gloves in place. He stepped barefoot onto the mat and approached his opponent, the large, faded black canvas bag hanging in the corner. He delivered a right kick to the bag. The chain flexed as the bag swung back, only to return for more of a beating as Nick let loose a barrage of punches, each one harder than the previous. A sharp kick interrupted the punching just long enough for Nick to take a breath before continuing with more hooks and jabs. He danced around the bag as though he were dodging his opponent. He’d dodge the opponent’s punch, then reach in and strike.
Elly’s face popped into his head as he delivered another kick.
Did you know every one of my customers asks me about you? Nick heard himself say to her.
Nick jabbed with his left and then knocked the bag back with his right.
My name isn’t Nick anymore! It’s “Elly’s Brother”!
The bag jolted to the side as Nick kicked it.
Do you know every one of the guys I work with has seen naked pictures of you posted on the Internet? Do you know every girl I’ve ever tried to date thinks I’m loaded, and then they dump me the moment they find out I’m not? Do you know that?
Nick unleashed a fury of left-right combinations, rattling the chain as the bag shook. He could see Elly standing in front of him with her hand over her mouth. She stood there taking his verbal abuse as tears streamed down her face.
You want to know what’s wrong?
Nick kicked, then unloaded on the bag again, alternating his fists with each strike. His face contorted with rage as he put everything he had into swing after swing.
You ruined my life, and you don’t even know it!
Nick wound up a massive right hook and aimed for his own face, which he pictured yelling at Elly. He swung at the idiot who was saying all of those horrible things. His arms begged him to stop as he punched furiously at the fool who didn’t know his sister would soon be dead. The jerk didn’t move or flinch—he just stood there being a dumb-ass. Sweat mixed with tears stung his eyes. He continued pounding the bag with left and right hooks.
Nick connected one last time with a right hook and saw Elly in the mirror behind him, crying as she watched her brother do this to himself. Nick turned around, but the room was empty.
He stared at himself in the mirror and then dropped his head as tears rolled down his face. The only sounds were his heavy breathing and the buzz from the lights. His knees buckled as he remembered his mom and dad reacting to the news that Elly’s plane had crashed. He covered his face with his gloves and fell over on the mat, unable to remember the last time he’d cried. Nick barely recognized the reflection in the mirror looking back at him.
* * *
Elly stared at the ceiling of the tent, clutching the closed pocketknife. The raindrops tapped away at the tent, and the once-bright flashes seemed more distant. Thunder rolled from one horizon over the top of her to the other again and again, like ocean waves crashing to shore.
She felt like hot coals were tumbling around inside her sto
mach and knew it was because she hadn’t taken any pills since she shoved Jay. Elly had tried to quit before, but it was always too painful. She was determined to never take Vicodin again, but her burning abdomen kept it constantly on her mind. Her muscles ached, she was sweating, and she wondered if she was going to throw up.
Elly’s ears strained for any noise that didn’t belong, and it seemed like every thirty seconds she quickly glanced in the direction of a new sound. She felt stupid holding the knife, knowing it would be of little use if that man she’d seen with the shotgun found her. She remembered watching him come over that hill with his ugly face and sweaty shirt as she lay under the tree next to Jay. She shivered at the thought of him, or any one of those men, coming anywhere near her. She prayed Jay was okay. The thought of walking blindly without him to some distant highway made her want to cry.
She stared at the spot where Jay should be sleeping and knew she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep until he came back. She pushed out of her mind the thought of him not returning, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
After losing his parents and then going to Afghanistan, he had dealt with more than Elly could imagine. She wondered which one caused his nightmares, or if it was a combination of both. Elly remembered Jay saying that he’d only been back from Afghanistan a few days. She felt bad that Jay, of all people, had then been dropped into this whole mess, yet Elly knew she might be dead if it hadn’t shown up when he did. Jay had appeared out of thin air at the airport just like a ghost, and she thought his Marine Corps description of himself as one seemed appropriate.
Elly turned her thoughts to the admiration Jay had for his sister. After the helicopter flew over, Jay had said, “There is one person who knew where I was going, and it’ll be almost a week before he’ll know I’m missing.” Elly wondered why Jay hadn’t told his sister where he was going. If it was true he’d just gotten back from Afghanistan, then did she even know he was home? Other than this one person, did anyone else even know?
