Soon Jack saw his mother running down the slope toward the Cruiser, which made him think he’d better get down there too. “Come on,” he told Leesa. “Looks like something’s happening.”
Olivia had opened the compartment between the two front seats and was pulling out the Landons’ cell phone. She told Jack, “We can’t see her anywhere. I’m scared she might have fallen into one of the old mine shafts. I’m calling 911.” Since the cell phone was connected to a no-hands speaker, Jack could hear both sides of the conversation:
“This is 911 responding. Please state your name and the nature of your emergency.”
“I’m Olivia Landon and my daughter is lost. She’s only eleven—”
“Where are you calling from, Ms. Landon?”
“From the old ghost town of Skidoo in Death Valley. Ashley could have fallen into an abandoned mine shaft, and that’s why her two-way radio isn’t working—”
“Ma’am, you’ve reached 911 in Inyo County at the Independence, California, center. I’ll have to relay your call to the main dispatch in San Bernardino, and they will then call Death Valley National Park, so there’s going to be some lag time. I suggest that you dial the Federal Emergency Communications Center directly. I’ll give you the number.”
“All right, but hurry!” Frantically, Olivia dug through her purse to find a pen and paper. She scribbled down the number, repeated it, and then punched in the numbers again.
By then Steven had reached the Cruiser. “Did you get someone?” he asked.
At the same time Leesa began to sob, “It’s all my fault. I should have stayed right beside her.”
In the confusion, Jack missed most of what was being said between his mother and the person on the other end of the line, until he heard, “Stay calm, Mrs. Landon. We’ll get a search-and-rescue team there as quickly as possible.”
“Should we start looking in the mine shafts?” Steven shouted into the phone.
The voice answered, “Definitely not! You don’t want to endanger anyone else in your group. The best thing to do is wait there for the search-and-rescue team. Keep your cell phone on so we can communicate with you.”
That made it suddenly real to Jack—Ashley hadn’t been joking around. She really was in trouble! His two-way radio handset had fallen out of the car into the dirt. As he picked it up and rubbed it against his T-shirt to clean it, he thought at first that he was still hearing the voice from the emergency number his mother had called. Then he realized that the two-way radio in his hand had begun to crackle with static. “Mom, Dad!” he yelled. “I think it’s Ashley.”
Instead, it was a rough male voice. “We have your daughter,” the voice said.
There must be some mistake, Jack thought, someone else getting on the line from another channel. As he turned up the volume, the voice repeated.
“We have Ashley Landon, and we’ll keep her until Leesa Sherman is returned to us. Do not call the police. Understand? Do not call the police.”
CHAPTER FIVE
They established a command post in the ranger station at Stovepipe Wells, halfway between Skidoo and Furnace Creek. By the time the Landons got there, three Park Service law-enforcement vehicles had already parked outside, their red and blue beacon lights flashing. The dust storm hadn’t amounted to much; just a few dust devils and then it was gone.
“Come inside,” a park ranger named Hank told them, and led them to a crowded office in the back of the building. “We’ve alerted every ranger in the park. They’ll stop any vehicle that looks suspicious.” Picking up a notepad, he said, “First, let me get all your names.”
“Steven and Olivia Landon,” Steven said, pointing to himself and his wife. “This is our son, Jack, and this is Leesa Sherman.”
“I guess she’s the girl the unknown man said he wanted in exchange for your daughter, Ashley, right? Have you heard any more from him?”
“No.”
“Has your two-way radio been turned on the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“I think you’d better fill me in on everything from the beginning,” Hank told them. “There’s enough chairs; go ahead, folks, sit down.”
The ranger stood facing them. A thick leather belt around his waist held a .40-caliber handgun, pepper spray, handcuffs, a baton for subduing any assailant that got close enough, a flashlight, and extra ammunition. This was an officer prepared for any kind of duty. “Why don’t you start by telling me about Leesa?” he suggested.
This time no one noticed or seemed to care that Jack could hear everything being said. “Her father is a member of a militia group called The Unit,” Steven began, his voice tight with strain.
The Unit! Jack remembered Leesa’s reaction when he’d used that word.
“Is it an anti-government group?” Hank asked.
“Anti-government, anti-everything. They’re against anyone who’s a different color or a different religion.”
“A hate group,” Hank said, writing the words in a notebook.
“Yes. Very militant. And they have my daughter!” Steven’s face began to crumble as Olivia clutched his hand, but Olivia’s own eyes held panic, too.
“I know this is hard, Mr. and Mrs. Landon, but we need to get all the information you can give us,” Hank said. “How do you folks happen to be in charge of Leesa?”
Olivia took over. “We provide temporary shelter for foster children, kids who need a short-term place to stay until Social Services can provide a more permanent solution for their problems. We were called about Leesa because—”
“Everything’s all my fault!” Leesa interrupted, starting to cry again. “It’s because of me and Aaron, because we were…close. In school. And my father found out.”
“The boy Aaron, who is Leesa’s friend,” Steven explained, “is Jewish.”
Hank sighed and leaned back. His face showed that he understood.
“Aaron sent Leesa a note asking her to go out with him,” Steven went on, “and Leesa’s father found the note. The next day, after school, Leesa’s father and brother ambushed Aaron and beat him badly.”
Leesa buried her face in her hands and in a muffled voice added, “Then my dad locked me in my room and said I couldn’t go back to school ever again.”
Gently, as though he didn’t want to press her too hard for fear of upsetting her more, Hank asked, “Where is your mother, Leesa?”
“She went away a long time ago. She couldn’t stand living with The Unit. She wanted to take me with her, but my dad wouldn’t let her. That was the first time he locked me up. I was five.”
Jack felt his insides twist, both from fear over Ashley and from the awfulness of Leesa’s story. No wonder she’d acted so quiet and remote. No wonder she’d shied away from him, trying not to even brush against him in the car—in spite of all that had happened, she was still in love with Aaron, according to what Ashley had told Jack. Or maybe “in love” was putting it too strongly; after all, Leesa was only a year older than he was. But with girls it was different, he guessed. Everyone was always telling him that girls matured faster than boys.
Hank asked, “Why do you think The Unit wants to get you back, Leesa?”
“Because the government took me away.”
Olivia reminded her, “It was the Wyoming State Social Services that brought you to us, Leesa.”
“They don’t care. The Unit hates all government agencies—city or state or federal. If the government does something The Unit doesn’t like, they try to get revenge.”
The phone rang shrilly, making all of them jump. “Kodele here,” the ranger said. “Yes. Yes. Keep them in sight. Have you contacted the California Highway Patrol and the Nye County Sheriff’s Department? Good. Everyone will stay right here until I hear further from you.”
Returning the phone to its cradle, Hank told them, “They think they’ve spotted her. A ranger saw a pickup truck on the road to Furnace Creek with a young girl seated between two men. There was a rifle hanging in the back window o
f the truck cab. When the truck started to turn north at the Beatty cutoff, the ranger blocked it because he wanted to question the people inside, but they sped away.”
“Which direction?” Steven asked.
“South, toward Furnace Creek.”
Steven jumped up and said, “Then let’s go after them!”
“Take it easy, Mr. Landon,” Hank said. “The pickup truck will be under constant surveillance. We won’t lose them, you can be sure of that. Before you could even get out of this building and into your car, the California Highway Patrol helicopter will be in the air, and it’ll stay right above that pickup truck. The fugitives won’t get away. As the saying goes, they can run, but they can’t hide.”
“I don’t care, I want to be there,” Steven demanded. “It’s my daughter we’re talking about!”
Placing his hands on Steven’s shoulders, Hank guided him back into his chair and said, “This is a hostage situation, Mr. Landon, and we don’t want anyone to make any foolish moves. For now all we want to do is observe the fugitives—no confrontations. Our main job is to get your daughter back safely.”
“It’s all right, Steven,” Olivia murmured. As she laid her head on his shoulder, he put his arms around her, each of them trying to comfort the other.
Next to Jack, Leesa sat quietly crying. Maybe she was feeling guilty over what had happened, even though it wasn’t her fault. If anybody was at fault, he thought, he was. Why hadn’t he gone with Ashley and Leesa, instead of letting them wander off by themselves? Emotions churned inside him, making him wish he had someone to reach out to, someone he could tell how terrible he felt. He glanced at Leesa and cautiously placed his hand over hers. This time she didn’t pull away.
“They’ve already done a license check on the pickup truck,” Hank was saying. “I figured it would be registered to Leesa’s father, but it isn’t.”
Steven told him, “Leesa’s father and brother are in jail because Aaron’s parents pressed charges against them. They were arrested for assault, and as far as I know, they haven’t been released on bail.”
Checking a computer screen, Hank said, “The truck is registered to a Robert Miller in San Bernardino County, California.”
“California?” Steven repeated.
“The Unit has branches everywhere,” Leesa told them. “They must have found out you were bringing me here, and they contacted the California branch. Those men wouldn’t know what I look like, so they took Ashley by mistake.”
“How would they have known who we were or where we went?” Olivia asked.
Steven answered, “Maybe someone spied on us at Furnace Creek last night. And followed us this morning.”
The motorcycle, Jack thought.
Dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her rumpled shirt, Leesa stood up to face Hank and said, “Take me to them. It’s me they want. If I go with them, they’ll release Ashley.”
Like puppets pulled by the same string, all three adults shook their heads. Olivia brushed tears from her own eyes before she answered, “That’s very brave of you, Leesa, but it’s not a solution. We have to let the law-enforcement people handle this their own way.” Then, after a pause,” Would you really want to go with them?”
“No!” Leesa wailed. “I don’t want to go back to The Unit. I want to find my mother. But if they’d give Ashley back, I’d go with them.”
Olivia hugged her then and patted her long dark hair, murmuring, “It will all work out.” She didn’t look as though she believed her own words.
The phone rang again, and this time Hank switched on the speaker phone so they all could hear what was being said. “Hank, this is Marvin reporting. The pickup truck turned off on the scenic loop road going to the old Harmony Borax Works—guess the driver thought it was a through road. When it petered out, he tried to drive across the dry lake bed, but the truck bogged down in the sand. Three occupants got out—two adult males and a young girl. Looks like the men are heavily armed. Right now they’re walking into the desert.”
“Into the desert? Those idiots. Where do they think they’re going to?”
“Beats me.”
Hank barked, “How many law-enforcement people do you have?”
“We’ve got about a dozen from the Inyo County Sheriff’s Department plus a SWAT team…. Wait a minute!” The transmitted voice grew louder, more urgent. “Hold on, Hank…. It looks like one of the fugitives has opened fire on our officers! He’s shooting at us. I count three…three shots!”
“Don’t fire back!” Hank yelled. “Keep them under surveillance but don’t fire any weapons because of the child.”
Olivia turned pale. As if to steady herself, she clutched the sides of her chair and closed her eyes.
“I’ve got to get out there!” Steven cried. “I won’t try to do anything, but at least I want to be where it’s happening.”
“All right,” Hank answered. “We’ll all go. They’ve set up a new command post near the old Harmony Borax Works. Leave your vehicle here, and we’ll ride in the patrol car.”
Inside the car, Leesa sat in the front seat with Hank so he could question her further about The Unit, while the three Landons (Jack hated the sound of that: the three Landons. There should have been four!) sat in back, too numb to even talk to one another.
Maybe it was because of nervousness, or maybe because in Hank, Leesa had found a father figure she could trust, but she began to talk almost nonstop.
“Mr. Kodele, you’re part of the federal government, aren’t you, because you’re a National Park Service Ranger?”
“That’s right.”
“My dad says the federal government spies on us all the time. He says that when babies are born in hospitals, little microchips are implanted in them so the government can trace them and keep track of them all their lives. And that when you buy something at a supermarket, the bar codes tell the U.S. government what you bought.”
“Now, why would the federal government care if I bought a bag of potato chips?” Hank asked her.
“I don’t know,” Leesa said, leaning back in her seat. “But I heard you talk about a helicopter that will keep surveillance on the pickup truck. Do you know about the black helicopters the government sends to spy on its citizens?”
“I’ve heard the rumors,” Hank replied, “but they’re not true.”
Leesa sighed. “That’s what Aaron says, too. He says almost everything my dad tells me is untrue—things like federal agents wanting Americans to register their guns so they can take them away and then we can’t defend ourselves against government tyranny. Aaron says that’s nothing but scare tactics and hate-group propaganda. He says that all my life, I’ve been fed a lot of lies, and I need to start learning the truth. Aaron is really smart. He reads everything, and he gets straight-A report cards.”
“He sounds like a good kid,” Hank said. “I’d like to meet him. Now I think I’d better pay attention to my driving here, because we’re getting close to the turnoff point. We ought to be able to see the ground and air teams pretty soon.”
As if Hank’s words had conjured it, they heard the thump, thump, thump of a helicopter overhead. The turnoff to the Harmony Borax Mill had been blocked by wooden barriers, but a ranger moved one of them so Hank could drive through. Where the road turned into an unpaved, pebbly path, a dozen police cars and trucks were parked, while SWAT teams in desert camouflage uniforms grouped together, listening to their commander.
The Landons and Leesa scrambled out of the car to follow Hank toward a uniformed officer who seemed to be issuing orders. The man told Hank, “The fugitives are about two miles from here, out on the salt flats. They’re heavily armed and very dangerous. You said they made their threat over a two-way radio. Do you have the radio that received that message?”
“Right here,” Hank said, handing over the handset. “It belongs to the Landon boy—his name’s Jack. He’s the brother of the girl who’s been abducted.”
Abducted. The word made ripples of fear run
down Jack’s arms to his fingertips. He watched as the yellow-and-black handset, one half of his birthday present, was examined by the officer.
Calling one of the troops who was monitoring a group of communication devices, the officer said, “Sergeant, I want you to put fresh batteries in this two-way radio and find out what channel frequency it’s tuned to. Then set up our systems to monitor that frequency. This may be the only method the fugitives have to communicate with us. Keep the line open—in fact, set up several lines on that frequency for backup.”
“Yes, sir.” As the sergeant walked away with the handset, Jack wondered what voice it would transmit next, praying it might be Ashley’s, to prove she was unharmed. Whoever it was, he wouldn’t hear it. Others were now in charge of his sister’s life. Jack had no part in it—he was a useless bystander.
Hank had gone back to his police vehicle, where he was peering through a spotting scope mounted to the window on the driver’s side. “I can hear a helicopter, but I can’t see it,” he murmured, and then he straightened up to stare at the sky. “No wonder I couldn’t see it. It’s flown two miles past where the fugitives are.”
Sliding into the front seat of his police vehicle, Hank spoke into the radio to the helicopter pilot, “Hey, you need to drop elevation and come back. Turn right, and go west.”
As Jack watched, the chopper flew lower, close above the desert’s surface. It turned, as the pilot followed Hank’s instructions to hover nearer to where the fugitives had been spotted. Since sound carries so clearly in the desert, the thumping of the helicopter’s rotors echoed loudly in Jack’s ears. He could also hear the pilot’s voice, transmitted over the radio in Hank’s vehicle.
Suddenly Jack heard something else, like the rattling of a marble in a can.
“They’re firing on the chopper!” Hank cried.
Again came the sound of gunshots. Suddenly, against a background of bells and whistles going off inside the aircraft, the pilot’s voice came over the radio loud and clear, shouting, “Mayday, Mayday!”
Valley of Death Page 4
