KIDNAP.org

by Peg Herring

  Em announced that the rooms she’d chosen, being interior and fairly small, had warmed quickly and retained the heat well. Still, she wore her trapper hat and heavy wool socks, and Robin noted she hadn’t entered the kitchen until Hua warmed the room by lighting all four burners on the gas stove.

  Needs were revealed as they cleaned, exploring corners and venturing into small spaces. At Cam’s suggestion, Robin used clear packaging tape to cover the cracks in her windows. With so many problems to address, new glass wasn’t high on the list, and the tape did a decent job of keeping out the wind.

  The roof of Hua’s wing leaked in several places. Cam found a stack of extra shingles in the shed behind the house, and between the top ones, which had dried up and cracked, and the bottom ones, which had rotted into the ground, there were enough good ones to make the repairs. Once they determined exactly where the leaks were, the two men climbed onto the roof to fix them. Between the pounding of two hammers, Robin heard them talking and laughing. A displaced Asian and an asocial farm boy—men love having something to fix.

  Wiring was another problem they were forced to address immediately. Appliances had to be used one at a time, because more than that made the lights flicker. Some rooms had no electricity at all, since animals had chewed through the wires that ran along the outside walls. In addition, like many old houses, there simply weren’t enough outlets for modern living. Robin’s bedroom had only one, which didn’t work, so she dressed and undressed by flashlight. The wings had more outlets than the main section, being slightly newer, but none located on the exterior walls worked.

  After many calls and a wait of several days, they got an electrician to come out and make rudimentary repairs. He shook his head at the “cobbled up” system, claiming it was the result of several successive amateur installations. Robin accepted the estimated cost with a suppressed sigh and scheduled him to come out with a full crew and redo the wiring for the whole house. They simply couldn’t operate without electricity.

  There was a plumbing scare too. The third day of their residence they smelled something odd—nasty, actually—and discovered water backed up in all the downstairs drains. Once again Cam was the hero, tapping and listening along the septic pipe until he located a massive clog. He cleared it by shoving an old metal fencepost from the nearest joint in the pipe to the spot where the clump blocked the flow. “Hasn’t been used in so long the stuff hardened up,” he reported. “Should be okay now there’s water going through all the time.”

  The hot water heater was replaced a few days into their occupancy, and the first rush of hot water through Robin’s bathroom faucet was like a gift from Heaven. It’s a gift, all right. One we paid plenty for.

  Critters had made nests everywhere in the house, and though most were abandoned, some were still occupied. The residents had to be relocated, and naturally, they objected. Mothballs were scattered to repel the squirrels, and Bennett made himself useful by chasing off those who persisted. Traps were set for the mice, and Cam spoke of getting a cat or two. Worst, to Robin’s way of thinking, was the possibility of snakes, indicated by a skin Hua found behind the toilet in his bathroom. Cam assured her that once the lawn was mowed regularly and the presence of rodents lessened inside (she noticed he didn’t promise they’d leave entirely), snakes would no longer find the house attractive. Determined to make that happen, she spent fifty bucks on a used push mower at the Buy/Sell Gardiner site. When the weather warmed and things started growing, she intended to mow every week until no self-respecting snake would slither anywhere close to her property line.

  Then there was the staircase, once beautiful but now dangerous due to weak and broken boards. Hua proposed a temporary solution: putting inexpensive parquet flooring over the existing steps. By purchasing close-outs and odd lots, they were able to make the steps usable though not very attractive, since one didn’t always match the next.

  Though there were times Robin rued the day they’d seen the house, it slowly became livable. Days spent in hard labor made for sound sleep, with neither childhood nightmares nor visions of private detectives invading her nighttime hours. Each improvement brought a sense of fulfillment for all of them, and something as simple as a toilet that flushed for the first time in a decade was likely to get appreciative applause. Those incidents brought them closer, and Robin felt for the first time in her life what the word home means.

  Her weekly calls to Shelly were both comforting and disquieting. She didn’t want to give away where she was; it was best that Shelly didn’t know. She did share their adventures with the house, however, making a story about elderly Cam’s mother joining them with her Asian caregiver. They were flipping a house, she told her friend, and she was finding it an enjoyable experience.

  “My mom is still always knocking out a wall or digging up the yard,” Shelly said. “I didn’t inherit her love of table saws, but maybe some of it rubbed off on you.”

  “Your mom was great,” Robin said. “I always felt like I’d been adopted when I was at your house.”

  I often wished I could be, she thought before the disloyalty of it hit her. I’d never have left Mom and Chris. But Mark?

  “Your dad was great too.”

  Shelly laughed. “Mr. We-Should-Get-There-Early-So-We-Get-A-Good-Parking-Spot?”

  “Trust me, Shel. He’s a great dad.”

  The pause that followed told Robin her best friend understood a little of what she’d lived through. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have nice parents.” Knowing Robin, she didn’t let the moment get squishy. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not embarrassed when they both wear tennis shoes out to dinner.”

  When the call ended, Robin thought about the odd “family” she was now a member of. Em with her knitting bag and saggy pants, Hua with his Michael Jackson outfit, and Cam with his stutter and his many rituals. As work on the house progressed and they’d begun to shift from four disparate individuals to a group focused on common goals, Robin began to feel more optimistic about the future. Thomas Wyman had apparently given up the search for them. They had a base—a home—and they were learning each other’s strengths. Robin felt for the first time in her life what the word home meant: not just a spot to sleep and eat and keep your things, but a place where someone was always ready to share your joys and listen to your fears. Having a home helped meld them, so they’d be ready to take on the target they’d chosen—ready to show another miscreant the error of her ways.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They held their planning sessions in Hua’s rooms, which he’d transformed with paint bought in the discount aisle. Gone was the grime, and in its place were elegant pastels that shifted pleasantly from wall to wall. While Cam had chosen basic office-type furniture for his wing, Hua had opted for classic pieces, the more ornate the better. To see what he’d learned about Judge Beverly Comdon, they stood arched around a battered refectory table that held his computer, oversized screen, printers, scanners, and other geeky machines Robin couldn’t name, much less operate.

  The downside of Hua’s fascination with technology was that he often spoke in geek, peppering his conversations with terms like bots, click-jacking, IP activity, and algorithm. When he waxed poetic about the packet-sniffers he’d sent after the data, Em ordered, “Cut to the chase. We just want to hear what you know about the old biddy.”

  “Robin’s source seems to be correct,” Hua said obligingly. “Judge Comdon is a wealthy woman who seldom goes anywhere alone.” He showed them a photo of the judge at an event. “Along with her personal assistant and a couple of law students, there is always a nice-looking, very fit young man in her entourage.”

  “And these men are convicted criminals?”

  Hua pointed at a photo. “This one was caught selling heroin. His sentence was six months in Rehabilitate Louisiana.” Clicks sounded as he brought up a second picture. “This one stole an elderly neighbor’s money when he was supposed to be looking after her.” He leaned close to read details. “He spent five months
with the judge.”

  “Old Bev likes a certain type.” Em pointed at the pictures one by one. “When a boy who’s tall, dark, and handsome walks into her courtroom, she makes him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  Robin leaned in to see the screen better. “When does her latest victim’s sentence end?”

  “Actually he was released last week,” Hua said.

  “She’ll be looking for new blood,” Em predicted. “We have to move fast.”

  Robin gestured at the screen. “I thought I’d approach some of these men and see if they’ll talk to us.”

  “They won’t help you take her down,” Em said. “She has the juice to send them to prison.”

  “Well, if one of those pretty young men won’t go on record, how do we convince her she’s in trouble?”

  Em tilted her head to one side. “Cam’s pretty.”

  Robin turned to Hua, who shared her disbelief. “But Cameron has no—what are these—people skills.”

  “He wouldn’t have to interest her for long, just enough time for her to embarrass herself,” Em said.

  Robin frowned. “Could we teach him enough to get her interested?”

  “That would depend on whether he’s willing to learn.”

  “I don’t think—” Hua thought better of what he’d meant to say and stopped.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Em said cheerfully. “Let’s ask him.”

  They crossed the main house and went down the ramp to where Cam sat at his computer, lost in something called Virgins of Calamara. They had to wait until he finished a level so they could get his full attention. Even then he turned to them reluctantly, eager to get back to vicarious death and destruction.

  Taking what she hoped was a persuasive slant on the proposal Robin asked, “Cam, you don’t want to have to force Judge Comdon into the van, right?”

  He rubbed the front of his T-shirt. “I can’t push an old lady around, Robin. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Do you think you could flirt with her a little?”

  Judging by his reaction, she might have asked the question in the ancient Calamarian language. “Flirt?”

  Robin glanced at Hua helplessly, and he took a stab at it. “If you make her like you, maybe she would go somewhere to be alone together. Then Robin could talk to her, like she did the others.”

  Cam’s frown cleared and then appeared again. “I don’t know how to flirt.”

  “We’ll help you practice.” Robin turned to Hua. “Show him. Flirt with me.”

  Hua’s smooth forehead wrinkled. “I have not done such a thing ever.”

  She sighed in frustration. “Okay. You be Judge Comdon. I’ll be Cam.”

  Cam snickered. “Hua’s going to be a girl?”

  “It’s just a demonstration.” She turned to Hua and deepened her voice. “Oh, Judge Bev, it’s great to meet such an important person. And you’re very attractive too.”

  “I saw her picture,” Cam interrupted. “She looks like Olive Oyl from the Popeye cartoons.”

  “That’s part of flirting. You say nice things, even if they’re a little exaggerated.”

  “That’s not exaggerating. It’s a great big lie.”

  Robin rolled her eyes. “Just try, Cam.” She turned back to Hua and said in the same gushy voice, “It must be exciting to travel all over the state meeting people.”

  “I would never say that,” Cam put in. “I don’t like meeting people very much.”

  “We’re trying to put the idea into her head that you could travel with her.”

  Cam considered. “Do I have to leave my games here?”

  “You’re not really going to—”

  “You should get him an earwig,” Em suggested. “Then you could tell him exactly what to say.”

  “Can just anybody buy those?” Robin asked.

  Hua shrugged. “Almost everything is buyable on Amazon.”

  “The problem will be how he says what you tell him.” Em made her voice into a fair impression of Darth Vader. “That robot warrior voice of his won’t work.”

  Cam didn’t seem at all upset by the characterization, so Robin asked, “If Hua gets us an earpiece and Em and I show you how to flirt, will you try this new way, Cam?”

  He turned back to his game and picked up the controller. “Sure, Robin. As long as you tell me what to say.”

  ***

  Hua hadn’t exaggerated when he said he was an excellent cook. Stuck in Buckram’s apartment twenty-four seven, he’d watched cooking shows from pure boredom and learned a great deal about food preparation. Claiming good meals deserved better than paper plates and plastic forks, he insisted they needed decent china and cutlery. Since he didn’t ask for much, Robin searched until she found an almost complete set of each at Goodwill. Hua was inordinately happy when she brought home the two dusty boxes, and she felt pleased that some nameless donor hadn’t seen the value in keeping Grandma’s good tableware.

  “We must plant a garden,” Hua announced. “Fresh food is best for taste and health.”

  Cam agreed, and the two of them chose a spot behind the house that looked as if it had been a garden long ago. They badgered Robin into buying hoes, rakes, and other garden tools, and Cam visited the local feed store for advice on what grew well in the area. He returned with packets of squash, beans, peas, carrots, and broccoli, along with a bag of onion sets and one of seed potatoes. He and Hua could hardly wait until the date of the last frost, April 7th according to predictions, to begin theproject.

  The team for the Comdon Caper (Em insisted on calling it that) was Cam, Robin, and Hua. Keeping in mind Mink’s warning to always have an escape plan, Robin designated Hua as backup. He would stay on the fringes of the operation in the van, watching for trouble, warning them if he suspected problems, and picking them up in case they needed to make a quick escape. Em’s assignment was minding the house and the dog.

  In the days before they left Kansas there was a flurry of activity. Hua and Cam thinned and weeded industriously in their small garden so Em wouldn’t have to while they were gone. Robin paid as many bills ahead of time as she could afford to, worried about what would happen if she were unable to return. “I’ll manage if you three have to go on the lam,” Em said, knowing her concerns without being told. “I’ll do what I can to divert the cops so you’ll have time to get out of the country.”

  “And if we’re arrested—”

  “We’ve talked it through a dozen times, Sweet-cheeks. I close this place down and Bennett and me get a bus ticket out of here and start over somewhere else. If they arrest you, the rest of us do what we can to help.”

  She made it sound simple, but it wasn’t. If Robin were caught, there might not be much the others could do. She couldn’t imagine Hua, Em, or Cam executing a jailbreak. While Em was capable of plotting one, carrying it out with a couple of amateurs and a three-footed cane seemed unlikely.

  A few days before the Comdon KNP, Robin left the house in Em’s car. The “pond” at the end of their driveway was drying nicely as spring progressed but it was still a hazard. Gunning the engine at just the right moment to make it up the incline, Robin watched for oncoming traffic. Not that there was much of that on Bobby Road.

  Cam had proposed a half-circle drive that began and ended at either end of the property, where the slope was much gentler. “We won’t have to drive through that mud hole, and it will look nicer too.” Again it pleased Robin to see Cam’s growing confidence. Unless there was a stranger around, his stutter had almost disappeared, and his knowledge of practicalities meant the others often depended on his advice.

  Too bad the flirting thing isn’t going so well.

  Hacking into a popular blog hosting site, Hua had discovered the identity of the blog writer who’d complained about the “sinful” practices of a “certain lady judge.” The blogger was Ethel Simpson, grandmother to a young man who’d been one of “Bev’s Boys.” The blog was her attempt to let the world know about the judge’s “
wicked” practices without smearing her grandson’s name.

  When she arrived in Baton Rouge late that night, Robin went straight to the bar where Hua said Elmer Simpson worked as a bouncer.

  Simpson was hesitant to talk about Judge Comdon, but the promise of anonymity and the offer of a hundred bucks helped. Robin hung around until the crowd thinned and he was free to talk.

  “Tell me about the Rehabilitate Louisiana Program,” she asked when he finally sat down at a table across from her.

  He shrugged, elaborately casual. “I did work around the judge’s place—lawn stuff and like that.”

  “Did your work include sleeping with the judge?” He opened his mouth to deny it, but Robin had her own lie ready. “I’ve already spoken with your grandmother.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Gram thinks I was this innocent kid who fell into the clutches of an evil Maggie May type.” He touched his shirt pocket, where a pack of cigarettes showed.

  “Would you like to take this conversation outside?” she asked.

  He grinned, showing white, slightly uneven teeth. “That would be good.”

  Once they were in the alley behind the bar, Elmer lit one. Waving the smoke away from Robin with his free hand, he began to relax, and the story came out. “My college roommate and I had this little business going, selling computer equipment that fell off a truck, if you know what I mean. When we got caught, he went to jail—like directly to jail—because it was his second strike. I was scared, and when Judge Bev offered to get me into her rehab program, I jumped at the chance.” He grinned. “I could tell she liked me, you know?”

  Taking a drag on his cigarette, he went on. “I took the deal: six months in the program. If the judge was happy with my work, she said I’d get a stipend.” He chuckled. “I didn’t even know what a stipend was.”

  Tilting her head to one side, Robin said, “You must have had an idea something funny was going on.”

  He shrugged. “I had my suspicions.”

  “You signed up anyway.”