The Lodestone

by J. Philip Horne

Most of the photos had been recent, a necessary bias given the dearth of digitized photos from previous generations. Among them, however, he had seen two more photos of Edna in World War II, a grainy shot of her somewhere in Europe during World War I, three photos of her during the Korean conflict, and numerous pictures from Vietnam. She had a different name in each era, but Derek was sure it was the same person. Through the seventies and eighties there was nothing, but then she showed up again in the nineties as Edna Littleworth, foster mom and nurse extraordinaire.

  At 6:50 a.m. the next morning, Derek’s watch started beeping at him. After trying to work the kink out of his neck, he logged back in and checked how LEAPFaR was doing. Nothing new had registered on the facial search, but the license search had two results, both from Tuesday. The first one put her in Wichita, Kansas, and the second was further north on I-35 in Newton, Kansas.

  Derek jumped up and carefully stepped around the mess on the floor. After hustling through the shower, he dressed in his normal summer slacks and dress polo shirt. He retrieved a suitcase from the closet and haphazardly packed it. He stuffed his computer and other electronics in his backpack and headed out the door.

  A minute later Derek pulled out of the apartment parking lot in his black SUV. He popped in his headset and dialed his boss. The call rang five times then went to voicemail.

  “Okay, he’s probably dropping off the kids at school,” Derek said, then heard the beep. “Hey Bob, driving north today. You’re going to have to trust me on this. I think I’ve broken something big on Ryan’s Hillacre case. Want to meet up with him. Calling him now to find out his next move.”

  He hung up and dialed Ryan, who picked up on the first ring.

  “Did you understand my ask?” Ryan said.

  “Yeah, Ryan,” Derek said, “I got it. Not sure it was as subtle as you thought. Anyway, two things. First, the results of the facial search are, well, impossible, just like everything else in this case.”

  “You broke up for a moment, Derek. What are the results?”

  “Impossible,” said Derek, slowly.

  There was a pause on the line, and then Ryan spoke, “How can the results of a facial recognition program be impossible?”

  “How can a huge warrior dude wearing a kilt in a small town in Texas be killed by slamming his head into a ceiling?”

  “Touché,” Ryan said. “You said you had two things.”

  “Yeah, you know that license plate module we were playing with?” Derek asked. “We’ve got feeds from traffic cams in about half the states so far.”

  “Derek,” Ryan said. “You’re killing me.”

  “All right, here’s the bottom line. I found the Camry,” Derek said. “Tuesday she was heading north on I-35 in Kansas. Listen, I’ve got feeds from Kansas and all bordering states except Oklahoma to the south. She drove north into Kansas, and then disappeared up in the Newton area. She’s up there somewhere.”

  “That’s what I needed. I’ll relocate the team to the Kansas City office. Let me guess. You’re in your car right now, making the drive from Dallas, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m going the long way up I-35. Want to stay close to the trail. Hey, make sure the coffee is fresh when I arrive. Didn’t sleep much last night. And listen, I want to show you the facial search results. Maybe you’ll interpret it differently than I did. Here’s an angle to work in the meantime. Put your financial guys or anyone else to work trying to link our Edna Littleworth with Florence Bitty, Edith Smalls, Helen Trifle, and Elizabeth Lesser. You got them?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got them.”

  “Good,” Derek said. “Each one probably comes from a different generation, starting with Florence in the early nineteen hundreds and working up to Edna today. See if there’s a link somehow in the financials or otherwise.”

  “Okay,” Ryan said. “Look, I’m going to blanket Kansas with an APB. Is this a kidnapping or something else? Who do I say is the bad guy? What’s your gut on this?”

  “My gut is in a knot. I think we’re onto something big, something over our heads.”

  “Not helpful, Derek. I’ll figure out the APB. See you this afternoon.”

  Derek hung up and punched in the Kansas City FBI office’s address in the Navi. Just 547 miles to go.

  Chapter 8

  KANSAS

  JACK HEARD THE others gasp, and slowly opened his eyes. Wheat fields bathed in early dawn light rolled gently in the breeze all around. A relief so profound it made his knees weak swept through his body. Fortuna and Gerlock were both staring all around looking stunned. Sally dropped Jack’s hand, sat down hard and started crying. Jack immediately put the amulet back on, and felt the presence of the Lodestones fade away.

  “Is this all wheat?” Gerlock asked.

  “Yep. We’re in Kansas now,” Jack said.

  “By what magic,” Fortuna said, “can there be so much? And in such perfect rows?”

  “Uh, it’s not really magic,” Jack said.

  He looked down at Sally. He wasn’t really sure what to do about her crying. He squatted down by her and thumped her on the back. “Hey, we made it. You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, sniffling. “Just feeling relieved we’re not about to die.”

  “I get it,” Jack said. He didn’t get it. He thought you cried if you were about to die, not when you were finally safe. Standing up, he looked around and tried to get his bearings. He’d been nearly unconscious when they were here two and a half days ago, and had assumed he’d see the Camry somewhere nearby. Looking all around, he saw only wheat.

  “I cannot sense the wheat,” Fortuna announced, looking distressed.

  “Edalwin said magic didn’t work here,” Sally explained, getting back to her feet, “unless it’s worked into an object. Something about that mimicking technology.”

  Gerlock suddenly sprang at them and dragged them all to the ground.

  “Quick!” he said. “Crawl off the hill and into the wheat, lest the wyvern sees us.”

  Jack scanned the sky. “Hold up. We’re okay. That’s an airplane, not a wyvern.”

  “What is an airplane?” Gerlock said.

  What is an airplane, Jack thought. “It’s a huge metal container with seats for people and wings and it flies.”

  “Ah, is that an example of what Edalwin said, where the magic is in an object?”

  “No,” Jack said, but then reconsidered. “Maybe. But it’s harmless. Look, we have to find the Camry. There’s got to be a road nearby. Gerlock, can you hoist Fortuna up on your shoulders so she can have a look around and find a break in the wheat? There must be a road. Sally, how far did you two walk when you came here?”

  “Not far,” Sally said, “and she had a little place she pulled into from the road in among the wheat, and a camouflaged cover for the car. I just don’t remember which way we came.”

  Gerlock crouched, and Fortuna stepped up onto his shoulders, and balanced as he stood up. They faced the rising sun, and slowly turned clockwise. After about a quarter turn, Fortuna pointed, and then hopped down.

  “This way,” she said, and led them into the wheat.

  “Jack,” Sally said, following him closely through the tall stalks, “what do we do next? I don’t think Gerlock and Fortuna drive, and we need to get away from this hill. And we need money for food and a place to sleep, don’t we?”

  Jack swung the knapsack off his back and rummaged through it. “I hadn’t really thought through driving,” he said, pulling a large black wallet from the bag, “but as long as Edalwin wasn’t broke, we can hopefully fake our way through with her credit card.”

  “And the car?” Sally asked.

  “Hold on,” Jack said, searching the knapsack again. “Car keys!”

  “Great, but who’s driving it?”

  “Well, I’m a few inches taller than you, so I guess either one of them learns really quickly, or I do.”

  “But what’s our plan?” Sally said. “Do we just hide the rest of our lives?”


  “I have no idea,” Jack said, stepping out onto a narrow dirt road.

  “This is it!” Sally said. “The car is somewhere nearby. I think she put it on the far side of the road from the hill.”

  Gerlock found the car a couple minutes later pulled into the wheat with a golden camouflage cover. Sally and Jack pulled the cover off and stuffed it into a small, weathered trunk half buried in the soil nearby while Fortuna and Gerlock gawked at the car.

  “All right, everyone in,” Jack said. “Fortuna, Gerlock, practice acting like all this is normal so when we are with other people you won’t stand out, okay? I’m going to drive. We need to find somewhere to eat and sleep.”

  Jack got in behind the steering wheel and fumbled around until the key finally slid home in the ignition. Gerlock sat up front with him, and Sally and Fortuna sat in back. Jack paused, and noticed he could barely see out the windows. He found the controls and raised his seat as high as it would go, then raised the back forward until he was fully upright. It wasn’t the best view, but it would do. He looked down by his feet and saw the big brake pedal and narrow gas pedal, and slid the seat forward so he could actually reach them.

  “Okay, here we go,” Jack said, and tried to turn the key. The car jumped to life, and Jack tried to move the transmission to reverse. It wouldn’t move. He tried a couple more times, then sat back to think.

  “Jack, I think you have to push the brake pedal,” Sally said from behind him.

  Looking down again at the pedals, Jack made sure his left foot was on the brake pedal and pushed, then tried to move the gear selector. This time it moved over to reverse.

  “Yep, it was the brake pedal, Sally,” Jack said. “Thanks. Okay, everyone buckle up. Oh, hey, Gerlock, it’s that strap beside you… no, the other side, that one. Yep, just pull it over toward me. You see what I’m doing with mine? Hear that click? There you go. Sally, you and Fortuna buckled in?”

  “All buckled up,” Sally said. “Please don’t kill us. Be really careful.”

  “That’s a big ole slice of encouragement,” Jack mumbled as he let go of the brake with his left foot and pushed the gas pedal with his right. The Camry shot out of the wheat, crossed the road, and slammed into the wheat on the far side. Gerlock screamed just as Jack got his left foot back on the brake and hit it, bringing the car to a sudden stop. Everything was quiet for a moment, and then Jack heard Fortuna snicker.

  “Well,” Gerlock said, “I mean, I did not understand what was happening. The boy clearly did not intend to do that.”

  Jack put the transmission into drive, and this time pushed the gas pedal in very slowly with his right foot as he gently let off the brake with this left foot. The car rolled forward, and Jack turned toward the sun and drove down the dirt track. Less than a mile later they came to a paved road. Jack’s hands felt sweaty and had started cramping from his fierce grip on the steering wheel. He came to an abrupt stop well short of the road, then inched forward to it and stopped. After stretching his hands for a moment, Jack turned onto the road and slowly wove his way south.

  Two hours, thirty miles, and two dents in the Camry later, Jack pulled into a motel on the outskirts of a small town. Sally headed across the street to a McDonald’s armed with a credit card from Edalwin’s wallet while Jack coached Fortuna on how to acquire a room. When Sally returned with the food and drinks, Fortuna took the credit card and headed into the office. A few minutes later, Fortuna came out of the motel office proudly displaying the room key and toiletries she had acquired, and they all piled into their room and took turns cleaning up. Within an hour all four of them were asleep, sprawled around the room, well fed and clean.

  ~~~~

  “What’s up, Ryan?” Derek said into his headset.

  “Hey,” Ryan said, “I figured you’d make it by now.”

  “Had to take a long stop at lunch and get some work done,” Derek said. “Bob had expected to see me in the office today. Had to appease him.”

  “Okay, this may work to our advantage. Where are you?”

  “On 81 just south of Salina, about to hit I-70 and go east.”

  “Turn around,” Ryan said.

  “All right,” Derek said, “I’m getting over into the right lane. What do you have?”

  “Sheriff’s office out west of McPherson on Highway 96 had a hit on the APB at a motel,” Ryan said. “We got ‘em.”

  “All three of them?” Derek said.

  “No, all four of them. The two kids and two adults. And Edna Littleworth wasn’t with them.”

  “Say what?”

  “Look, the rest of what the sheriff told us gets weird. Can you get over there pronto and start pulling together a coherent story?”

  “Sure thing, Ryan,” Derek said.

  “All right,” said Ryan, “I’ll text you the address. I bet you’re not much more than an hour away. We were just arriving in KC when I got the call, so we’ve redirected but are several hours out. Get there and figure out what’s going on, but don’t make a move. I’ll bring in the team, and then we can relocate them. And Derek, you got a vest with you?”

  “Always, why?”

  “Put it on,” Ryan said. “This whole case is sideways.”

  Chapter 9

  RABID RACCOONS

  DEREK SQUINTED INTO the setting sun as he pulled into the parking lot of the Greedon County sheriff’s office, a large, flat, one-story building. He parked his SUV and stepped around to the back of the vehicle. Opening the rear door, he pulled out his gym bag and retrieved his body armor and shoulder holster. Once they were both snugly in place, he loaded up his Glock 22 and three spare magazines into the harness. He reached for his jacket, but decided the heat would probably kill him. He got his badge out and headed for the door of the building.

  Derek stepped into the pleasantly cool waiting room and flashed his badge at the deputy sitting behind a desk across the room. Chairs neatly lined two of the walls, with small tables covered in worn-out magazines spaced every few chairs.

  “Here to see Sheriff Anderson,” Derek said, stepping forward and extending his hand. “Name’s Derek Harland. Hear you have some folks we’re looking for.”

  The young man stood and shook his hand tentatively while trying to discreetly inspect his badge. Derek grimaced and held it up to him.

  “Sir,” the man said, “you sure got here quick. They said they might have someone in the area. Guess that was you.”

  “It was,” Derek said, briefly looking at the man’s name tag. “So, Deputy Sterling, let’s go see Sheriff Anderson.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sterling said, “right this way.”

  The deputy led him through a door beside the desk and down a hallway. They passed an opening to a large room filled with desks, a few of which had deputies sitting at them, and another to a break room. The hall came to a T and Deputy Sterling led him to the left. They stopped at the first door on the right and the deputy knocked briefly.

  “It’s open.”

  Deputy Sterling opened the door and stepped into the office with Derek right behind him.

  “Who do you have for me, Sterling?” a large man with an expansive chest and belly asked from where he sat behind a mammoth desk. The office was burdened with knick-knacks and family mementos. Pictures of children at the beach, playing sports, opening presents, and posing with mom covered the areas of the desk and bookshelves not occupied by papers, books, and magazines.

  “Sheriff Anderson, I presume?” Derek said, stepping past Sterling. He reached out and shook hands as the sheriff rose from his seat. “I’m Director Derek Harland of the FBI. Ryan was in touch with you earlier today?”

  “Jeff Anderson,” the sheriff said. “Good to meet you. And let’s drop the titles for now. Call me Jeff. Yeah, Ryan and I spoke after we picked up some folks he’s looking for. He mentioned you might be in the area.”

  “I was driving up from Texas to meet Ryan in KC. Was up near Salina when he called with the news. I was surprised to hear you f
ound two adults with the kids. Can we go see them?”

  Jeff waved Deputy Sterling out of the office and stepped around his desk to close the office door.

  “Have a seat,” he said to Derek, motioning toward two guest chairs as he lowered himself back into his desk chair. Derek didn’t like the way this was going, but sat and waited for the sheriff to explain.

  “Listen, we got a call from a motel up on the north side of the county,” Jeff said. “Guy said he had a match for the bulletin we faxed out to all the local places when the APB came across the wire. So we headed over, me and five deputies, and not really knowing the situation, went in strong. They had all been sleeping, so we had the jump on them.”

  “All right, but…” Derek said, still waiting for the surprising details.

  Jeff held up a hand. “I’m getting there. There’s four of them. The two kids, Jack and Sally, and a man and a woman. They’re all dressed like, uh, oh, I don’t know, like Robin Hood or something, and all but the girl are armed with big hunting knives. So the guy with them takes a stance like he’s going to attack, and the boy tells him to stop, that we’re the good guys. And the guy listened to the boy. He stood down.”

  “Wait, the boy, uh, Jack Paris, was calling the shots?”

  “Seemed like it,” Jeff said.

  “And he told the man that the cops were the good guys? Like there are sides, and the cops are on the right side, but the guy he was talking to didn’t know that?”

  “Exactly. The guy’s name is Gerlock.”

  “Gerlock what?” Derek asked.

  “No, just Gerlock,” Jeff said, “and the woman’s name is Fortuna.”

  “And no Edna?”

  “Nope, but they had a backpack of sorts that had her wallet and keys in it.”

  “This case is madness,” Derek said, more to himself than Jeff. “If they’d done something to Edna, why would they call the cops the good guys? Where are they? How did you handle it?”

  “Well, the APB was really ambiguous regarding who was in the wrong,” Jeff said, “and the situation was not clear cut, so I put them all in the lockup and decided I’d leave it to you guys to sort out.”