Taken! 19-24 (Donald Wells' Taken! Series)

by Donald Wells

  With her husband gone, she’d taken to letting the dog sleep beside the bed, as the sense of another presence in the room at night gave her comfort.

  After finding the kitchen empty, she called out, “Rob!” but received no answer.

  As she was preparing coffee, she heard the sounds coming from the garage and walked out the back door of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, as Rob Stevens slid out from beneath her car on a mechanics’ creeper, as the four caster wheels made a grating sound on the concrete floor.

  “Good morning, I thought I’d change your oil, from the look of it, it’s overdue.”

  “Oh, thank you, but you could have just told me and I’d have changed it.”

  Rob looked surprised.

  “You know how to change the oil on a car?”

  “My husband taught me how years ago, although he normally takes care of such things himself.”

  Rob stood and walked over to her while wiping his hands on a rag. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, and his biceps flexed as he cleaned his hands.

  “How’d you sleep?”

  “I mostly tossed and turned,”

  Rob moved closer and took her hand.

  “You need to get your rest. Maybe you should see a doctor for a mild sedative.”

  “I am a doctor, remember?”

  “I remember, I also don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to self-medicate.”

  “I’ll sleep eventually, the first few days after the crash I slept too much, I think that I’m just getting used to sleeping alone.”

  “You miss him a great deal, don’t you?”

  “My husband? Of course,”

  “And have you... have you come to terms with what’s happened?”

  Jessica let his hand drop from hers.

  “He’s not dead, Rob. I don’t know what’s happened to him or where he is, but he’s not dead.”

  “Jessica, honey I know that it’s difficult to—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I understand, and oh, guess what? The realtor called, she has a couple interested in the house.”

  “That was fast,”

  “Yes, but I’m practically giving it away. That was Juliet’s house; she decorated it from top to bottom and the thought of living there without her, it, I... I just couldn’t do it. Now don’t worry, I’m not going to abuse your hospitality. I’m going out later to look for an apartment.”

  “There’s no rush, having you here helps to alleviate the loneliness.”

  Rob placed a hand on her cheek.

  “I’m here for you, Jessica. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

  The next instant, they both looked up, as the lights flickered, indicating that they had a visitor.

  When they walked outside, they found Chief Dent and Traci getting out of Traci’s car, a blue, Kia Soul.

  “Hello Jack, Traci,” Jessica said.

  “Good morning, Jessica, Agent Stevens,”

  “Please Chief, call me Rob.”

  “Alright, and in fact, Rob, I’m here to see you.”

  “What about?”

  “I just have a few questions; we’re hoping that your expertise as an FBI agent can help us find Dave Callaway.”

  Traci began guiding Jessica towards the house.

  “While they’re talking out here, why don’t we go inside and catch up?”

  Jessica smiled at her.

  “I’d like that.”

  As the women walked away, Rob gestured for the chief to join him in the garage.

  “I was in the middle of doing an oil change; why don’t we talk in here while I finish up?”

  Once inside, Rob lay back down on the mechanic’s creeper and slid beneath the car.

  “So, how can I help, Chief?”

  “Well, I’m just finding it strange that there’s no trace of Callaway. He hasn’t used his credit cards in weeks and when his sister had a birthday the other day he didn’t even call her, and those two are very close.”

  “I guess he was prepared to disappear, probably had some money saved, and as far as the sister goes, you only have her word that he never made contact, In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s helping him to lay low.”

  “Why Jessica White?”

  “What?”

  “Why do you think that he was obsessed with Jessica White?”

  Rob slid out from beneath the car and sat down the old oil filter; afterwards, he ripped the new one from its box and filled it halfway with fresh oil, before also smearing some oil upon the filter’s rubber gasket. He then looked up at the chief and smiled.

  “Jessica is an extremely attractive woman. As much as I hate Callaway for what he’s done, I can’t fault him for his taste.”

  “She’s a beauty, no doubt, but we’re discussing obsession here, something about her must have obsessed him, must have triggered some sick, demented part of him into causing all this grief.”

  Rob shrugged.

  “Who knows why people fall in love.”

  “Love? This has nothing to do with love. The man behind the crash of that helicopter is a twisted piece of garbage.”

  Rob had just stretched out upon the creeper again. He stared up at the chief a second before sliding back under the car, to screw the new filter in place.

  “Callaway must think it’s love. He did what he did because Jessica rejected his advances.”

  “But Jessica says that Dave never made any advances towards her, all he ever really said to her is that he thought she was beautiful.”

  “Who knows what he was thinking, the man is sick, and as you said, twisted.”

  Rob slid out from beneath the car. Next, he held up his hand for the chief to take.

  Chief Dent gripped his hand and helped to pull him to his feet. He then stared into Rob’s eyes.

  “I think that Dave is innocent. I think someone else murdered your fiancée.”

  Rob released his hand. He picked up a five-quart jug of motor oil and began pouring.

  “How can you say that? One of his prints was found on the last note and receipts for flowers were discovered in his trash. Why else would he have those receipts if he wasn’t the stalker?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  Rob stopped pouring and turned towards him.

  “The receipts? I must have read it in the paper.”

  “You couldn’t have, we withheld that from the press.”

  “Okay, then I must have heard it somewhere else.”

  “Traci found those receipts the night you claimed that Dave attacked you. She and I are the only ones who know about them.”

  Rob moved closer.

  “Just what are you trying to say to me, Chief?”

  “No, Agent Stevens, I think it’s you who have something to say to me.”

  ***

  Jessica and Traci were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee when the shouting began. They rushed outside and found Rob red with anger.

  “What’s going on here?” Jessica said.

  Rob pointed at the chief.

  “He practically accused me of killing Juliet.”

  “What? Jack, are you mad?”

  “Dave Callaway didn’t kill your husband, Jessica. I think someone was using him as a patsy.”

  “Ah, so that’s what this is about,” Rob said. “You’re just trying to save your department’s reputation, aren’t you?”

  “That’s crazy!” Traci said. “Jack is just trying to find the truth.”

  “And what’s that got to do with Rob? He’s a victim in all this.”

  “Just how well do you know him?” Traci said.

  Jessica looked back and forth at Traci and the chief.

  “Oh my God, you’re serious, you’re really trying to implicate him in this?”

  The chief sent her a grave look.

  “He’s a suspect, yes, and if we’re right, he killed your husband.”

  Jessica rus
hed over to Dent.

  “My husband is not dead.”

  “I know you want to believe that, maybe even need to believe that, but honey—”

  “Leave!”

  “What?”

  “Leave, Jack, you and Traci both, I understand that you may have some loyalty to Callaway, that you might not want to believe that he’s guilty, but until you can prove otherwise, Dave Callaway is Juliet’s murderer. I suggest you go find him before I do, if you want him to stay alive.”

  “You’ve been looking for Dave?”

  “Carly Zhang is, you’ve met her, she’s my researcher, and if anyone can track Callaway down, it’s her. If she finds him before you do... they’ll be nothing left of him for you to arrest.”

  “Vengeance is a dangerous path, Jessica,” Traci said.

  “It wouldn’t be vengeance, it would be justice, now leave, and don’t come back here until you’ve found Callaway.”

  As Traci and the chief drove away, Rob took Jessica’s hands in his.

  “I can’t believe that I need to say this, but I didn’t kill Juliet.”

  “Of course you don’t need to say that to me. The idea is ridiculous, you loved Juliet very much.”

  Rob leaned over and kissed Jessica on the cheek.

  “Love, not loved, I’m still very much in love.”

  “Of course, and you’ll always love her, won’t you?”

  Rob smiled.

  “I will love my one true love until the end of time.”

  ***

  Chief Dent sat in the passenger seat as Traci drove along. He had just finished telling her about his conversation with Rob Stevens.

  “It is possible that he could have learned about the receipts; we did enter them into evidence.”

  “He’s never asked to see the evidence against Callaway; he’s been too busy playing the grieving fiancé.”

  Traci pulled over onto the shoulder and stared at Dent.

  “You’re convinced that he’s the one who brought down the chopper, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, and I think he sent the notes and flowers and set-up and murdered Callaway, proving it though, that might be tough.”

  Dent’s phone rang.

  “It’s the station,”

  Whoever the caller was had a lot to say, because the chief mostly listened, but Traci did hear him say something about credit cards. When the call ended, the chief had a thoughtful look on his face.

  “Jack, what is it?”

  “Jessica, she may be right after all,”

  “Why do you say that? Was that about Dave? Is he alive? Did he slip up and use his credit card somewhere?”

  “No, not Callaway, that call was about Jessica’s husband; it seems his credit card was used two towns over, in Hamilton. The cops there are looking into it now.”

  Traci put the car in motion and made a tight U-turn.

  “Where are you going?” Dent said.

  “To Hamilton, where else?”

  ***

  The kid’s name was Josh Gardner. He was sixteen, big for his age, with long blond hair and tattoos. Josh was also a bit of a stoner and after trying to use a credit card, he found himself in more trouble than he’d ever been in before, and all because he wanted a new skateboard.

  Josh sat in his parent’s living room and told his story to Chief Dent, Traci, and the cops on the Hamilton force.

  “I swear dudes I didn’t steal nuthin’. I found all that shit down by the river.”

  The “shit” that Josh was referring to was Joe Cowley’s backpack, along with the wallet and pocketknife of Jessica’s husband.

  The chief shook his head impatiently.

  “We’re not accusing you of stealing it. We just want to know where you got it.”

  “I told you already, it was lying behind a bush by the river, the backpack and a pair of tuxedo pants. I figured finder’s keeper’s, ya know?”

  “Was there any ID in the backpack?”

  “No man, just some clothes that were too small for me. I threw that shit out. Oh, there were some protein bars, but I ate those.”

  One of the Hamilton cops held up the credit card, a credit card that belonged to Jessica’s husband.

  “What the hell were you thinking trying to use this?”

  Josh shrugged and held out his hands.

  “Finder’s keeper’s dude, finder’s keeper’s,”

  The Hamilton cop sighed and turned to the chief.

  “You want us to arrest him?”

  “No, I want Josh here to take me to the exact spot where he found this stuff, and oh yeah, Josh, what happened to the tuxedo pants?”

  Josh stood up and turned around as if he were modeling.

  “They look good on me, don’t they?”

  ***

  Sarah Callaway was seated in a diner with the private detective she had hired to look into her brother’s disappearance. The detective’s name was Edward Childs, and he was both a former cop and a former bounty hunter.

  He had spent half his life tracking down people and he was good at it, but when it came to Dave Callaway, he had no clue where the man might be, and when Sarah pressed him for a guess, he told her that he believed her brother was dead.

  When her first theory concerning the victims of the crash proved to be wrong, she developed a new theory about those left behind, Jessica White and Rob Stevens. The theory was simple, one, or both of them was behind everything, including her brother’s disappearance.

  The detective handed her the file containing his full report, but then gave her a verbal overview.

  “Jessica White is what she appears to be in my estimation, but this Agent Stevens, he doesn’t add up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Six months ago he was this close to being offered the responsibility of becoming a Regional Director, thanks mostly to the success he had in ending a high-profile kidnapping years ago. That would have meant a huge bump in pay and respect. He torpedoed all of it by requesting to be transferred to the field office in this jurisdiction.”

  “I think it was his fiancée’s decision to move here.”

  Childs shook his head.

  “Not according to the real estate agent, she told me that when Stevens and Dr. Hamden first came here to look for a home, that Dr. Hamden wanted something the next town over, where Steven’s field office is located. It was Stevens who insisted on living here, in this town, and they bought a house that was only miles from Dr. White’s.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “This all started after Jessica White began receiving flowers from a mysterious admirer, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rob Stevens moved here only a short time before that began.”

  “You think he was her stalker? That he brought that chopper down?”

  “I can’t prove it, but I think Rob Stevens is obsessed with her.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Open the file and look inside at the photo.”

  Sarah did as he said, after reading the photo caption, her head jerked up.

  “Is this right?”

  “Yes, that’s not a mistake. Now you know why I believe he’s obsessed with her.”

  Sarah wiped at her eyes.

  “Do you think he killed my brother?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry Ms. Callaway, but yes,”

  ***

  Josh led Jack and Traci to a spot along the river where the water was only accessible by going down a steep incline.

  The chief looked over the edge and thought that even a healthy man would be winded after the climb up, much less a man who had survived a helicopter crash and near-drowning. He turned and gave the kid a skeptical look.

  “You’re certain that you found the backpack here?”

  “Yeah, dude, hey man I grew up along this river. I know every inch of it.”

  Dent walked about the area, as he neared a bush, something caught his eye. It was a wrapper from one of the heat packs that Joe Cow
ley had used, before long, Dent had recovered three more of them.

  He stood with a thoughtful look on his face, before speaking to Traci.

  “It hasn’t rained since the crash, has it?”

  “No, and it’s not surprising given all the snow we had the week prior to that.”

  Dent walked back over to the edge and started down.

  “Where are you going?” Traci said.

  “To the water’s edge; I want to check something out.”

  “Be careful, Jack, that’s damn steep.”

  The chief made it down, but not without difficulty, the bottom was so steep that he feared falling head first, and instead of walking down, he leaped the last eight feet to the narrow, muddy shelf at the bottom. As he turned and looked back up, to his left, he saw what he hoped to see, and he brightened with a grin.

  Traci called down to him.

  “Jack, how are you getting back up here?”

  “The same way he did,” Jack said, as he eyed the hand and footholds ascending the formally muddy wall of the steep incline. They were dry now after weeks of no precipitation, but Jack followed along in them by using his hands and feet, and as he reached the top, Josh grabbed his hand and helped him up.

  Jack sent Traci a smile.

  “Jessica was right, he survived!”

  ***

  Weeks ago, and several hundred miles to the south

  Joe Cowley sat on the floor in a corner of the jail cell as he watched the stranger pace back and forth in front of the bars. The cell contained a dirty sink, an even ranker toilet and a set of cots secured into the wall, one above the other.

  They had been fed earlier, breakfast fare, runny eggs, undercooked potatoes and burnt bacon, along with a gallon jug of milk. Joe had watched as the stranger ate with an aura of resentment about him. The man knew that he needed the food, particularly after the ordeal he had undergone, but Joe thought it grated on him that the food was provided by their captors.

  And for some unknown reason, Betty had taken their pictures, not mug shots, just pictures, taken with the use of her phone.

  The stranger’s ordinarily intense eyes were a set of burning daggers, and he sporadically clenched his hands into fists.

  “Hey buddy,” Joe said. “Why don’t you take a seat and calm down? There’s nothing we can do about this.”

  The man turned his head and stared at Joe, and for just a moment, Joe feared for his life. Suddenly, the man was standing over him.