A Shadow Fell

by Patrick Dakin

I was not accustomed to waiting for trouble to come to me. My training with the Bureau had always been as the aggressor - never give the opposition the opportunity to gain the upper hand. But, in this case, the enemy had all the advantages. Playing a game of nerves, rattling our cage, was magnifying the fun for him.

  I decided to minimize his advantage the only way we could. “I think it would be a good idea if you and Tanya waited this out somewhere else,” I suggested one night after Callie had put Tanya to bed.

  “Come on, Jack,” she countered. “You know damn well I’m not going to do that.”

  “Callie, think for a minute. You, of all people, know what this guy is capable of. I know we’ve steered clear of talking about it, but you know very well where he’ll try to hit us, where it will hurt us the most.”

  She sighed in dramatic fashion. “And just where would you suggest we go?”

  “There’s always my parents place.” They lived in a retirement community in Sun City, Arizona, and always emphasized there was an open invitation to come for a visit at any time. “They’d love to have you guys stay with them for awhile.”

  “No way. I’m not going to bring them into this mess. And what about you? How come you get to stay here?”

  “Somebody’s got to keep an eye on the place,” I responded lamely. “And what about Winston? Who’d look after him?”

  “You’re grabbing at straws, my sweet. Nice try, but no dice. If you stay, we all stay.”

  Just then the phone rang. Even during daylight hours Callie was now edgy every time she picked up a ringing phone. “Hello,” she said. Her facial expression softened. “Miles.” The smile was an increasingly rare event as of late.

  Miles Wilson was the ex-police chief in Colville, Maine, who had hired Callie as his deputy when she’d decided to come back to her home town after eleven years with the Newark, New Jersey, police force. Callie had taken over the chief’s job when Miles had retired. They had remained close friends for many years both during and after his active duty. I liked and admired Miles myself having gotten to know him during the investigation into Sophie Crandall’s disappearance. We had been on several fishing expeditions together since then and they had always been enjoyable occasions.

  I left the room for a moment and by the time I returned Callie was saying goodbye to Miles.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’s okay. He’s aware that Reuben has been in Colville. The FBI are crawling all over town. He’s very worried about what it might mean for us.”

  “I guess I should have spoken to him,” I said.

  “He and Betty were just on their way out. He said he’d call again soon.” There was a wistful quality to her voice. She made no secret of the fact that she loved the old guy like he was the father she wished she had.

  * * *

  Although getting on in years, Winston’s desire for daily exercise had not waned. Our usual routine was to walk the perimeter of our property. He loved rousting out whatever wildlife we came across on our journeys. Typical of the retriever breed, if it had rained and there was a puddle of any substance to be found, he delighted in splashing around in it.

  Our walks now took on new significance. I wanted Winston to put his nose to the prospect of routing out unwanted visitors. I could read him pretty well and I was fairly certain I’d know if he detected an unusual human presence during our outings.

  Returning home one overcast afternoon Callie met me at the back door and stood watching as I went through my usual routine brushing the tangles from Winston’s coat. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” I cringed a little. It was my experience that Callie’s announcement that she’d been thinking was often an ominous precursor to bad news.

  “Ever since you said maybe I should consider taking Tanya away until Reuben is captured ….”

  I looked at her expectantly.

  “Well, when Miles called the other night I started thinking maybe staying with them might be a good idea.”

  “Really?” I said. “I mean Reuben has obviously been in the area. Do you think that would be a wise choice?”

  “The way I see it,” she said, “it’s probably the last place he’d expect us to be. And besides, it’s very unlikely he’d stay anywhere near Colville now anyway. The place has been inundated with law enforcement ever since the call he made from there.”

  She had a point. “I suppose you’re right. Have you talked to Miles and Betty about it?”

  “Not yet,” she answered. “I wanted to see what you thought first. And… I’d really prefer that you come with us, too.”

  “I don’t know, honey---”

  “They’ve got lots of room. And bringing Winston would be no problem. And you do love Betty’s cooking.”

  All good points. Especially the part about my love for Betty’s cooking. The woman was far and away the best cook I had ever known. But the fact was I didn’t want to leave our home unguarded with Henderson on the loose. I could envision him burning the place to the ground out of spite that we had deprived him of the opportunity to slaughter us. “Let me think about it, okay? In the meantime, why don’t you give the Wilsons a call and see what they think of the idea.”

  “All right,” she said. “But I don’t think there’s much doubt about what they’ll say.”

  5

  Not surprisingly Miles’ response to Callie’s call was emphatic: “Hell, yes. We’d love you to come up and stay with us.”

  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to keep this to yourselves, Miles,” Callie warned. “The fewer people that know of this the better for everyone.”

  “I hear ya, darlin,” Miles assured her.

  When she hung up the phone she turned to me. “Well, I guess we’re guests of the Wilsons.”

  “When do you want to go?”

  “Are you sure you won’t come with us?” she pleaded.

  “Not right away. Maybe I’ll join you in a few days if I get too lonesome.”

  “Well, all I have to do is throw a few clothes together so I guess we could leave anytime.”

  “Good. The sooner you’re out of here the better I’ll feel.”

  “How should we go?”

  “Why not just get a flight?”

  “Tanya loves that motor-home,” Callie reminded me. “She’d probably be delighted if we drove.”

  My first thought was that it would be too risky on their own like that. On the other hand, I reasoned, Henderson would have no way of knowing they were on the road so, really, it seemed silly to argue the point. “Would you feel comfortable driving all that way, just the two of you?”

  She waved off my show of concern. “It’s about fourteen hundred miles, a nice leisurely four day trip. I’d have no problem with it.”

  When I didn’t respond she stood in front of me and laced her arms loosely around my neck. “What’s to worry about, Jack? It’s not like I’m incapable of looking after us.”

  I couldn’t argue with her there. After all, if not for her, I’d have been another in the long list of her father’s victims. Still, my lack of enthusiasm was pretty apparent. “If it’s what you want, babe.”

  “Yeah, we’ll take the beast.” She looked at me like she was having second thoughts. “I’d still feel a lot better if you were coming with us, though.”

  “We’ve been over this already,” I reminded her. We had in fact rehashed the situation many times during the previous few days and she could not allow her concern for me to take precedence over the safety of our daughter.

  “Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary chances then. No heroics. If the bastard shows his face around here, blast him into another time zone.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  She gave me a doleful look. “I love you, baby.”

  I pulled her gently against me. Then I kissed her and held her tight. “I love you more,” I mumbled in her ear when we came up for air. “I’m bigger.”

  The next
morning we had the beast loaded and ready to roll. The unit was a forty-five foot Class A diesel with comfortable beds and a nice fully equipped kitchen. They wouldn’t exactly be roughing it. Callie had spent many hours at the wheel on our various trips and she handled the big machine with ease and confidence. We had plotted their route and decided exactly which campgrounds they would put in at each night.

  Tanya got a bit pouty when she remembered Winston and I weren’t going with them. “I want you guys to come, too,” she said, her lower lip pushed out.

  “We’re gonna try and join you very soon, sweetheart. I promise. Meanwhile, I want you to be a very good girl for Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. Okay?”

  She could never stay mad at me for very long. “I will. I promise,” she said, suddenly wrapping her little arms around me. “I love you, Daddy.” Then she thought through our usual routine. “But you love me more cuz you’re bigger, right?”

  “Uh uh,” I played along. “Because the best things come in small packages.” Even though she had heard it a hundred times, she giggled. It was one of those silly little things that somehow mean the most when looked back on.

  When she turned her attention to Winston, Callie came to me and held me in a tight embrace. “I can’t help it. I’m worried about you being here all by yourself, Jack.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Are you sure you’re okay with the drive up to Maine on your own?”

  She shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

  “Try and call me once you get settled every night, okay? There’s usually a public phone at the campgrounds.”

  “I’ll try,” she promised.

  Cell phones were just coming into vogue but we had not yet acquired one as coverage was notoriously iffy in the vast uninhabited areas we normally travelled through.

  I kissed them both goodbye again, then stood back and watched as they boarded the RV. I smiled and waved as they pulled away. For a brief moment I experienced a pang of regret that I had agreed to let them go off on their own; I pushed it down, telling myself I was being foolish.

  Callie double tapped the horn as they neared the bend that would take them from my sight. I caught a brief glimpse of Tanya’s tiny hand as she waved to me.

  If it were somehow possible to go back in time - if I could be given the opportunity to relive and change a single moment in my life - it would be that one.

  Part 2

  The Tragedy

  6

  They left home on a Wednesday and, if they stuck to the plan, were due to arrive at the Wilsons on Saturday afternoon. When the first two evenings came and went and I didn’t hear from them I told myself everything was alright, that they just didn’t have access to a telephone. But by Friday night I knew something was terribly wrong. It was not in Callie’s nature to do anything that would cause me to fret over her. If there had been no phone at the campsites she would have made a stop during the day to let me know they were okay. Now I was questioning how I could have been so foolish as to allow my wife and daughter to drive away on their own while a homicidal maniac who had professed a deep rooted desire for vengeance was on the loose. The more I thought about it the more obscenely stupid it seemed.

  At nine o’clock I phoned Miles.

  “Jack,” he said, “is everythin’ okay?”

  “I haven’t heard a word from them since they left. I’m very worried.”

  I heard him let out a heavy sigh. “Nothin’ from this end either,” he said. “What are you thinkin’?”

  I couldn’t even allow myself to verbalize what was going through my mind. “I’m going to call Tom Kilborn and let him know what’s going on. I know the exact route she was taking so the local cops should be able to make contact.”

  “Good,” he said. “Meanwhile I’ll call right away if I hear anythin’ at all.”

  The worry in his voice mirrored to a tee the way I felt.

  Tom Kilborn was a busy man but the mention of my name got me put through to him without delay the next morning when I called.

  I didn’t waste time. “I’m convinced something has happened to Callie and Tanya, Tom. They left in our motor home, headed for Colville, Maine, on Wednesday morning. Callie promised she’d stay in touch every day. I haven’t heard a word from them since they left.”

  “Do you know exactly which route she intended to take?” he asked, his voice immediately registering concern. He had the good sense not to try to convince me she had forgotten to call, or put their lack of communication down to some other equally ridiculous circumstance.

  I gave him the details of their route, a description of the motor home, and the names of the campgrounds at which they had planned to stay. I also provided details of our credit cards so their movements might be tracked that way.

  “We’ll get a BOLO out to all appropriate police agencies immediately,” he promised.

  A ‘be on the lookout’ was the best I could expect at this stage. I mumbled a thank you and he told me he would be in touch.

  I then began the process, for the hundredth time, of trying to imagine a rational justification for why my wife had not contacted me for three days. The only realistic scenarios I could envision left me with a feeling of utter hopelessness.

  7

  By Saturday afternoon I was frantic. There was no longer a shred of doubt that something dire had happened. It didn’t help that there had been nothing reported by any of the police agencies that had been issued a BOLO alert.

  Tom Kilborn called around dinnertime on Saturday. He told me there were no reports involving an accident of a motor home along their route, hospitals and emergency shelters had been checked, and none of our credit cards had been used.

  I couldn’t sit still any longer. I walked through the woods and called on our nearest neighbor, a hermit-like guy I had only nodded hello to a couple of times. Without giving him any details about what was going on I asked if he’d look after Winston for a few days. “Not a problem,” he said. “Leave ‘im with me for as long as ya want.”

  I threw a few clothes and other necessities in a bag and just after sunrise Sunday morning I hit the road. I was going to trace every inch of Callie and Tanya’s route.

  Somebody, somewhere had to have seen something.

  From home I connected up to Highway 121 which would eventually intersect with I-75. The country here was heavily treed and meandered through a lot of quaint little towns. My idea was to stop at gas stations, diners, roadside attractions, or anywhere else they might have been inclined to call on. I would speak with anyone who might have seen the motor home during the first day of their departure. Callie would have needed gas sometime before reaching Fayetteville, North Carolina, and as there was no evidence she had used a credit card, my emphasis was going to be given to the approximate three hundred and seventy-five mile stretch north of home.

  I had to hope that although the RV was a common sight in this part of the country, someone would remember a very attractive woman travelling with an adorable six-year-old girl. It was a long shot I knew, but it was the only shot I had.

  With an endless number of places to stop and check, my progress was painfully slow. The people I spoke with were, in many cases, not the ones that were working at the time Callie and Tanya would have come through. Add to that the fact that motor homes were an extremely popular form of transportation in the southeastern states and my chances of meeting with success in my search were pitifully remote. But if I could make even one confirmed sighting, I reasoned, I would be further ahead than I was now.

  I got a break just out of Savanna, Georgia, late in the morning. We had travelled through here on our return from our last trip and I remembered a little roadside joint that advertised thirty-two different flavors of ice cream. Tanya had made a big noise about stopping to get a treat and we had indulged her. She had befriended the old fellow who served her and we practically had to force him to accept payment from us. It occurred to me now that it was very likely Callie might be incli
ned to stop here again.

  As I entered the little store the same old guy was behind the counter and he looked up and smiled at me.

  “I don’t suppose you remember me from about six weeks ago,” I said. “My wife and I and our six-year-old daughter stopped here in February.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he replied. “I see a fair number of folks come through here in the course of a month. Was there a problem?”

  “No,” I assured him. “I was just hoping you might have seen my wife and daughter again in the last few days. They’re missing. They were travelling from our home in Florida up to Maine in our motor home and I haven’t---”

  “Wait,” he said. “Driving a motor home you say.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “One of those big diesel rigs, was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, sure,” he said. “They stopped here … let’s see, three, no four days ago as I recall. Your little girl mentioned she had been here before on their way back from their last holiday.”

  “You’re sure it was them?” I asked. “My wife is tall, very pretty, with dark hair. My daughter has blond hair that was probably in a ponytail.”

  “Yes, that sounds like them all right.”

  “Did my wife say anything unusual? Indicate that they were having any kind of problem at all?”

  “No, sir, she didn’t. Everything seemed entirely normal as I recall.”

  “Did you see them pull back out on the highway?”

  He thought for a moment before he answered. “Yeah, I did. I remember watching her because it was kind of unusual for a woman to be driving a big vehicle like that all on her own.”

  “She headed north?”

  “That’s right.” A thoughtful look came over him. “You know,” he said, “now that I think about it there was something a little strange that happened right about then.”

  I prompted him to continue.