by Patricia Fry
“Rob, show Craig that photograph,” Michael suggested.
Craig took Rob’s phone from him, enlarged the photo, and said, “Yep, there they are, plain as day.” He looked at Peter. “And you’re sure these are Rochelle’s.”
He nodded confidently. “Absolutely.”
Craig thought for a moment, then turned to Cheryl and asked quietly, “Do you know who your brother borrowed this van from?”
Cheryl looked down at her hands and shook her head. “No. But it could be our uncle’s, I guess. I don’t know why Uncle Albert would have those shoes in there, though.” She gazed at the others and stuttered, “…or…um…my brother, either.”
Craig pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. “Did you get a license number on the van?”
Cheryl and Rob both shook their head.
“What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Albert Rowe,” Cheryl said.
Pen poised, Craig asked, “Do you know where he lives?”
Cheryl stared down at her hands again and shook her head.
“Listen, Cheryl,” Craig said sternly, “I don’t know who your brother is or what he’s up to or who he’s hanging with, but it appears that he’s involved in something criminal and it could be a life and death situation for two wonderful women. It appears that you’re the only one who can help.”
Rob wrapped his hand around her arm and begged, “Please, Cheryl.”
She thought for a moment, looked around at the others, and said, “Okay, I think he’s staying at our uncle’s place out on Buckle Road.”
“Do you have an address?”
“Yes, in my phone—just a minute.”
“It’s twelve thirty-one Buckle Road.”
“And your uncle’s name is Albert Rowe?”
She nodded.
“And your brother? What’s his name?”
Before she could speak, Teddy pushed his bowl of fruit off the high chair tray and it spilled into Michael’s lap and onto the floor. Peter kneeled down to help with the cleanup, saying, “Tell me, is this normal or is Teddy just more clever than most babies?”
Michael laughed. “Oh I think it’s pretty typical. Kids can be messy.”
By the time the spill was cleaned up, Craig had finished quizzing Cheryl. He pocketed the pen and pad and stood up. “Michael, I’d like to borrow your cat.”
“Oh! Sure, Craig. So do you think...?”
“I don’t know,” Craig said with a sigh. “It’s our first decent lead and I’m going to follow it. Say a little prayer, will you?”
Michael swallowed hard and said, “I haven’t stopped praying, Craig.”
Chapter 8
“Got it!” Savannah said victoriously as she slipped the rope binding over Rochelle’s hands.
“Bless you, Savannah.” Rochelle rubbed her wrists and moved her arms, trying to work out the kinks. “Much better. Turn around and let me untie you.”
“Take your time, Rochelle. You don’t want to stress your muscles. Rub your arms. Just keep moving them around slowly.”
Rochelle rubbed her arms again, then said, “I don’t think we should waste any time. Let me get those ropes off you so we can move faster.”
“Where do you think we should go?” Savannah asked while Rochelle tugged at the knot in the rope around her wrists.
Rochelle looked around. “I think we should move closer to the road, where we can possibly find someone to help us.” More anxiously, she said, “We need water, and soon.”
Savannah thought for a moment and said, “But what if he comes back?”
“If we see that van coming, we’ll hide. If it’s someone else, we can flag them down.”
“Sounds good. We sure don’t want to be caught up here overnight. There are probably all kinds of critters eager to eat the arm off someone like us. Not to mention that it’s still pretty cold at night, especially in this higher altitude.” She looked up into the treetops. “Is it raining?”
Rochelle glanced around. “I don’t know—maybe the trees are just weeping.” Within moments, she said, “There, you’re free. Now take your time. It’s going to hurt.”
Savannah moved and stretched her arms slowly. “You’re not kidding.” She winced and looked around. “So where’s the road?”
Rochelle surveyed the area. “I don’t know.”
“Hey, you’re the one with the superpowers, girl.”
Rochelle’s laugh was strained. “Stress negates a lot of that.” She looked around. “Let’s scram out of this forest.”
“Lead the way,” Savannah said.
The two women had been walking for almost an hour when Savannah stopped and looked around. “I smell smoke.”
“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Rochelle complained, “a forest fire.”
Savannah grasped Rochelle’s arm. “Oh, I didn’t think of that.” She sniffed the air. “But no, I think it’s a fireplace; I don’t believe it’s a wildfire. At least I sure hope not.”
“There!” Rochelle said, pointing. “I see a plume of smoke. It looks like someone’s burning trash. I guess you can still do that on these rural properties.”
“Hey, that means there’s someone down there tending to the fire.” Savannah said more quietly.
“One can only hope.”
Savannah glanced around, then urged, “Come on.”
Rochelle hung back. “What if?”
“What?”
“What if it’s that guy?”
“We should be at least three or four miles from his place,” Savannah assured her. She frowned. “Unless we’ve been circling and we’re back where we started.”
“No, I’m pretty sure we didn’t go in a circle. It seems like we took a straight shot through those trees.”
“If only we had our phones,” Savannah complained. “We’d have a compass and a map and…”
“And a phone,” Rochelle added facetiously.
“Yeah, that too.” Savannah asked, “Well, what do you say, shall we trudge down there and see if we can get some help?”
“Before we do that, let’s at least see what we can see.”
“You mean sneak up on them? Sure, let’s go,” Savannah said, moving ahead slowly. As they drew closer, they could see a small cabin, and she stopped. “Oh no.”
“What?” Rochelle hissed.
“A dog. A big one. He’s aware of us. Oh gosh, Rochelle, what should we do?”
“Survival, Savannah; think survival.”
Savannah looked at Rochelle, took a deep breath, and shouted, “Hello! Hello down there! Call off your dog, will you?”
“Huh?” came the response. Then, “Monster, come!”
The dog suddenly stopped his forward motion, took one last look at the women, and trotted back toward the cabin. They heard a man’s voice command, “Heel,” and they saw the dog sit down quietly, his tongue hanging out as he panted and watched the strangers cautiously approach. “Who are you?” the man shouted.
“We need help,” Savannah said. “May we come closer?”
“Uh…I suppose. What kind of help?” he called out. “I ain’t giving handouts to no hippy-wannabes, you know.”
“No sir, we don’t want a handout. We need…ah asylum.”
“What? I don’t think we have any of that. LauraLee,” he called, “do we have any asylum?”
“Who needs asylum?” came the response. A woman of about sixty-five stepped off the porch and joined the man. She stared at the women.
“We’ve been kidnapped!” Savannah called out. “We escaped this morning and we need help.”
“Kidnapped?” the woman questioned. “By whom? Not anyone from around here.”
“Would it be okay if we come down there so we can talk more easily?” Rochelle pleaded.
The man put a lid on the incinerator, told the dog to stay, and walked toward Savannah and Rochelle. He shaded his face from the sun. “Who are ya and where’d ya come from?” he asked when he got a better look at the women.
“Like I said, we’ve been kidnapped. All we want is to use your phone.” Savannah looked around, “…if you have one.”
“And maybe get a drink of water,” Rochelle said, her voice sounding weaker and more raspy.
“Kidnapped, you say? That’s quite a story. How long ago?” the man asked. “Have ya been held prisoner up here by a bear or somethin’?”
By then the woman, LauraLee, had joined them. She wiped her hands on her baggy jeans and pushed her graying hair off her freckled face. “Jeb, I think they’re serious.” She narrowed her eyes and asked, “Who kidnapped you, hon? How did you get way out here?”
“We don’t know who it was,” Savannah said. “He brought us out here—well, to a cabin about three or four miles back. He drives an old white van. Maybe you know him.”
Jeb wiped his neck with a kerchief. “Well, Albert Rowe drives a van and he lives on down the road about five or six miles. But why would he do somethin’ like this? That’s pretty unbelievable, what yer sayin,’ miss.”
“He’s right,” LauraLee said. “We’ve known Albert for a lot of years and…” She turned to her husband. “But Jeb, I think he’s out of town. He’s on one of those buying trips.”
“Which makes what she’s saying a lie, don’t it?” Jeb suggested.
“I guess so.” LauraLee studied the women. “But they don’t look very good to me. Are you ladies hungry?”
“I sure am,” Savannah said. “He didn’t feed us.”
“We really need water,” Rochelle said.
When LauraLee saw Savannah rub her wrists, she looked down at them. “Oh, honey, you’ve been tied up. Jeb, look at the rope burn on her wrist.” She examined Rochelle’s wrists. “She’s got them too. I think they’re telling the truth.”
Rochelle nodded. “Yes, we are. We have no idea who it was that took us—neither one of us saw his face—and we don’t know why he targeted us.” She put out her hand. “I’m Rochelle Whitcomb. I live in San Francisco, and this is Savannah Ivey of Hammond, up north of the city.”
LauraLee cocked her head. “Whitcomb? Do you know Peter Whitcomb?”
Stunned, Rochelle said, “Yes, he’s my husband. How…how do you know him?”
LauraLee took Rochelle’s arm. “Come with me. Let’s get some food in you and water. You look dehydrated to me.”
“And she knows dehydrated,” Jeb said. “She’s a nurse.”
“I guess we’ve come to the right place, then,” Savannah said, smiling weakly. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m not sure how much farther we could have walked.”
“Well, there’s not much beyond here,” LauraLee said, guiding them into the modest home. She pointed. “Facility’s down yonder. Get cleaned up and I’ll heat you some beans.” She faced the women. “Beans okay with you? It’s beans with ham hock this time.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Savannah said. “Rochelle, go ahead to the restroom first.”
As Rochelle walked down a short hallway and disappeared into the bathroom, LauraLee handed Savannah a glass and motioned toward the spigot. “Help yourself to the water. It’s good well water.”
“Thanks so much,” Savannah said. After guzzling down half of a glass of water, she looked around and asked, “Do you have phone service out here, or cell service?”
LauraLee shook her head. “’Fraid not. But I can get you to a place where you can make a call. Won’t take but thirty minutes. I need to pick up a few groceries, anyway.”
Suddenly, Rochelle ran into the kitchen. She grabbed Savannah’s arm. “He’s out there.”
“What?” Savannah said. She stiffened. “Who?”
LauraLee walked to the front window and peered out. “Yeah, that’s Albert’s van all right. But I wonder who’s driving it. Albert’s out of town, like I told you.” She looked out through the windows, saying, “I wonder where Jeb went.”
“Please don’t tell him we’re here,” Savannah pleaded.
LauraLee studied her and said, “Well, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Or who I’m going to believe.” She stepped out onto the porch and called, “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I want to talk to you,” the man said from the driver’s seat. “Come out here, will you?”
“You can talk to me right here,” LauraLee said. “Who are you, and what are you doing with Albert’s vehicle?”
“Awww, ma’am, that’s easy to explain. I’m Albert’s nephew. He’s letting me stay at his place while he’s gone.” When LauraLee didn’t move off the porch, the man got out of the van and walked toward her. Savannah looked outside, trying to see Jeb, hoping she could get him to bring in a shovel or maybe even a gun. But when she finally caught sight of him, he was walking into a large barn with the dog, and was too far away to alert. She looked around the small kitchen. A weapon, I need a weapon. When she saw the man join LauraLee on the porch, she quickly picked up an iron skillet and held it behind her back. Rochelle saw this and she grabbed a large saucepan. Both women ducked behind the kitchen wall divider and waited.
Don’t hurt her, Savannah thought to herself. He’d better not hurt her; he has witnesses. He doesn’t know it, but he has witnesses.
They heard the front screen door squeak open and a familiar voice said, “Well, you won’t mind if I take a look around, then, will you?”
Oh, no. That’s him, Savannah thought. I’d know that voice anywhere. She looked at Rochelle, who was crouched next to her, holding tightly to the handle of the saucepan.
“No one’s here but me and my husband, I tell you,” LauraLee insisted. She then said, “He’s out in the barn, probably milking. It’s the time of day when he usually milks the goat.”
“Oh,” the intruder said, as if he’d just made a big discovery. “In the barn, huh?” He slapped a pair of handcuffs on LauraLee, pushed her down onto a chair, and held a knife menacingly in front of her face. “You stay put or I swear I’ll...”
Savannah heard the screen door open and close again. He must think we’re in the barn. Good, that’ll give us a few minutes to think about what to do next. She crawled from behind the kitchen room divider and looked at LauraLee. “Are you okay?” she hissed.
LauraLee nodded.
Savannah asked, “Does your husband have a gun out there?”
The stunned woman nodded again. When she saw the iron skillet in Savannah’s hand, her eyes grew wide and she asked, “What are you going to do with that?”
Savannah looked down at it and said, “I hope nothing.” She moved into the kitchen again with her back to the bar that divided the kitchen from the living room.
Suddenly the man burst in through the kitchen door. The women heard the dog barking ferociously, which is probably why the man slammed the door behind him. When he turned to look back out at the dog, Savannah raised the skillet, rushed forward, and slammed the pan over his head. She and Rochelle watched in horror as he fell to the floor, blood trickling from a gash.
LauraLee could see the body from the living room and she shouted, “Oh, my God!”
Savannah glanced at her. After gingerly picking up his knife and tossing it aside, she dug into the man’s shirt pockets until she found a small key. She handed it to Rochelle. “Here, take those cuffs off her.”
“What are you going to do?” Rochelle asked, her voice barely a squeak.
Savannah raised the skillet menacingly and said, “Make sure he doesn’t get up.” She looked at LauraLee. “Someone’s going to have to go make a call to the police.”
“Maybe he has a phone,” Rochelle suggested.
Savannah looked down at the body. “I don’t see one in his shirt pockets.” She stepped back and frowned. “Do either of you want to go through his pants pockets?”
When LauraLee was freed, she stood and said, “Jeb. Where’s Jeb? I need to make sure he’s okay.” She started to walk toward the kitchen door, looked down at the unconscious man, and decided to use the front door instead. She returned shortly, shaking her head. “He doesn’t have a clue ab
out what’s going on in here. He said a stranger poked his head into the barn, saw that he was milking the goat, said, ‘Howdy,’ and walked away. He said he wondered why Monster chased the man.”
“He’s moving,” Savannah said. “Bring those cuffs over here, will you? Let’s give him some of his own medicine.”
“Then what?” Rochelle asked.
“One of us will have to drive to where we can make a call, that’s all.”
****
Unbeknownst to Savannah and Rochelle, another car was creeping toward Albert Rowe’s cabin.
Craig stopped a distance away, used a pair of binoculars, then communicated with the officers in the police cruiser behind him. “I don’t see a vehicle in the yard. Let’s move in quiet-like and take a look around.”
It didn’t take long for Craig to determine that a vehicle, presumably a truck or a van, had probably fairly recently backed out of the yard at an accelerated rate of speed. Craig pointed at the ground and told the officers, “See, it looks like the tires spun out here and displaced some of the dirt. It’s obvious that this is a new track, because we had that little rain shower on the way out here. Let’s see which way he went, shall we?”
One of the officers said, “West. Definitely west—on up the road.” He glanced at his patrol car and asked Craig, “Shall we follow the trail?”
The detective looked at the cabin and shook his head. “He may not have the girls with him. Let’s see what we can find here first.”
After the trio had walked halfway around the cabin, one officer said, “Hey, Sledge, the backdoor’s open. What do you say we go in?”
Craig thought about it, then said, “Yes. Let me get the cat.” With Rags on his leash and a gun in his hand, Craig approached the door behind the two officers. He stepped cautiously into the service porch, then the kitchen. When he reached the living room, one officer entered from the hallway, reporting that the premises were unoccupied.
In the meantime, Rags began to pull hard on the leash. “What is it, boy?” Craig asked, giving the cat his head and rushing to keep up with him. Rags quickly approached a small cot. He sniffed the air and looked around, then jumped up on the cot and began rolling around.
