“Did you tell this to the FBI?” Will asked.
“Nah, they didn’t ask.”
When Will’s face flushed with anger, Guy nudged him toward the back of the store. “Why don’t you go find us some coffee? I like mine black.” Guy leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He waited until Will was out of earshot before he said, “So… Bobby Sue… you said this Lightfoot character usually comes in around eleven?”
“Yep, that’s right.” She unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and crammed it in her mouth. “Ten thirty, eleven, sometime around then.”
“Does he ever come in during the afternoon or at night?”
“I wouldn’t know. My shift ends at three.”
“Have you discussed him with your coworkers?”
“Nope, but you’re welcome to come back at three and talk to Patsy. She manages the shift after me.”
Guy wondered how much managing a one-person shift entailed. “You’ve been very helpful. If it’s all right with you, we’re gonna hang out for a while in our truck in the parking lot, to see if he shows up.”
“Fine by me, as long as you don’t go harassing my customers.”
When Will approached the counter with two large coffees, Guy removed his wallet and handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
She smiled at Guy, revealing a gaping hole where her canine tooth once belonged.
“God damn it!” Will pounded the steering wheel when they got back in the truck. “I don’t know who I’m more pissed off at, her or Baird.”
Guy sipped his coffee. “You can’t really blame her. She did her civic duty by reporting Lightfoot to the FBI. It’s Baird’s fault for not following up on the leads, especially since we have two convenience store clerks within five miles of one another reporting sightings of Lightfoot.”
“You’re right. I’m calling that bastard.” Will keyed the number on his cell phone. “Agent Baird, this is Will Westport.”
Will explained the situation to Baird, then held the phone away from his ear so Guy could hear Baird reprimanding them for taking matters into their own hands. Ending the call, Will slammed the phone down on the dashboard. “The bastard all but ordered us to come back to Washington. I’m sorry, man. But I can’t do that. This is my sister we’re talking about.”
“You don’t need to convince me, Will. I’m in this with you until the end.”
Will’s cell phone rang and he snatched it up off the dashboard. He listened for a minute before he muttered his thanks and hung up. “They’re sending a team to Pennsylvania, but they won’t get here until tonight. In the meantime, Baird cautioned us to be careful, not to try to be heroes.”
“Right. Like we’re just gonna sit here and twiddle our thumbs while Popkov tortures Scottie right under our noses.”
Will winced.
“Sorry, bro. That was in poor taste,” Guy said.
Will hung his head. “You were merely stating the truth. It makes me crazy with rage to think about the bastard torturing my sister somewhere close by, and we can’t get to her to help.”
“Let’s try to stay focused on the search.”
“Fuck Baird. We’re dealing with the local police from now on.” When Will tipped his cup to his lips, coffee dribbled down his chin onto his shirt. “Damn it. Nothing is going my way today.” He held the dripping cup away from him. “There should be a towel in the back somewhere. Can you hand it to me?”
Guy searched through the sports equipment on the floor in the back behind the driver’s seat. Amongst the swim goggles, Frisbees, and balls for every kind of sport, he found a beach towel wrapped around two bottles of sunscreen. “Dude, what do you need all this stuff for?” He handed Will the towel.
Will mopped the coffee off his chin. “What can I say? I’m an active guy. I like to be prepared for wherever my day might take me.”
Guy returned to the store for a bag of Sweet Sixteen Donuts and a stack of newspapers—The Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and USA Today. Both men, each keeping an eye glued to the front door of the convenience store, spent the next several hours reading the papers and communicating with their respective offices via their cell phones.
Mainstream media was blaming the Republican Party for Scottie’s kidnapping, saying she would not have been placed in danger if certain members of Blackmore’s staff hadn’t irresponsibly leaked the photographs of Caine and Popkov with the sole intention of smearing the senator’s reputation. Guy had not spoken to James or Rich since the story broke. They’d gone dark, refusing to return his calls and texts. He understood from his other coworkers that Blackmore was making heads roll, but so far, Guy had yet to hear from the GOP candidate. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good or bad sign.
Finally, around noon, Will gave up. “Let’s go down the road to the Country Store.” He started the engine. “Maybe someone down there can shed some light on the situation.”
The day clerk at the Country Store took one look at the sketch and said, “You just missed him. He was in here ‘bout an hour ago.”
“You’re shitting me,” Will said, unable to contain himself. “Are you sure it was him?”
“It was him alright,” the clerk said. “I know this guy. He comes in here all the time. He’s a real prick, if you know what I mean.”
“How so?” Guy asked.
“He just ain’t got no personality. He grunts if you try to talk to him. The other day he got all pissed off because we didn’t have any fried chicken legs left, only thighs.”
“Do you have any idea where Mr. Personality lives?” Guy asked.
The clerk shrugged. “Around here somewhere.”
“I can’t believe this shit.” Will burst through the plate glass door and out into the parking lot. He paced around in circles in the empty space beside his truck. “I can’t get over how ignorant these people are. What sane person allows a fugitive to live in his neighborhoods and shop in his stores? Mr. Personality, my ass. This man’s a hardened criminal wanted for murder.”
“Calm down, Will.” Guy stepped in his path. “I know you’re upset. None of this makes any sense to me either. But the last thing we need to do is call attention to ourselves. You never know who might be watching. Let’s get back in the truck and call Baird. But you need to let me talk to him this time. You’re too upset to be rational.”
33
Scottie sensed her time was running out. Popkov spoke to Felix in hushed tones for long periods of time during his visits. With her ear pressed to the door, she caught every third word of their conversations, enough to realize they were preparing to make a move. She wasn’t sure whether they aimed to include her in the move or whether the move involved international travel. The FBI would never find her if her abductors somehow managed to smuggle her out of the country.
Her plan for escape was full of holes with no backup options if anything failed. She had no way of knowing if anyone was even searching for her, let alone close to finding her. No doubt the FBI would be on the manhunt for Popkov, and with any luck her sketch had enabled them to identify Felix as the beast. She knew she could count on her brother to move heaven and earth to try and find her. But Will was not a miracle worker. In this situation, she feared she had only herself to depend on for survival.
When she heard Popkov mention crossing the border, she knew she could no longer wait.
Scottie heard the click of the door unlocking at the top of the stairs. She rushed to the sink and began to splash water on her face. When she sensed Popkov’s presence behind her, she turned to face him, lifting her shirttail up to wipe her face, exposing a significant portion of her breast in the process. His eyes filled with lust as he zeroed in on her chest. She raised her knee and delivered a swift kick to his solar plexus. His face filled with surprise and he staggered backward, falling to the ground and gasping for air. She removed his gun from his ankle holster and shoved it in the waistband of her pajamas. She crouched down behind the stairs and waited. As expected, at the sou
nd of the commotion, Felix came barreling down the stairs. With both hands, she reached between the rungs, grabbed his right ankle, and tripped him, sending him crashing to the ground. While her captors writhed on the ground, Scottie trained her gun on them and backed up the stairs, closing and locking the dead bolt behind her.
She had given little consideration to what she would do or where she would go once she’d escaped from the basement. She’d thought about hiding out in the woods until nightfall or following the driveway to the nearest road and signaling oncoming cars for help. The sight of Popkov’s Porsche parked in the driveway presented yet another alternative. A quick search of the room produced his sport coat, and in the pocket of that coat, she found the car keys. She bolted outside and started the engine. She threw the car in reverse and spun around so that she was headed in the opposite direction. As she shifted the car into forward, she heard two loud explosions in immediate succession. When she slammed her foot on the gas pedal, the car jolted forward on two flat rear tires.
In her rearview mirror, she saw her captors hurrying toward her. She hopped out of the car, and with a steady hand, aimed the pistol at them. They stopped in their tracks. When Felix raised his weapon, Popkov shouted, “No, Felix! Hold your fire!”
Scottie released the safety, took aim at Felix’s chest, and pulled the trigger. The clicking sound of an empty chamber brought a smile to Popkov’s face. “You overestimated me, little one. Why would I need a loaded weapon when I have Felix?”
Fear gripped her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She glanced around, taking in her surroundings—the lake so large she couldn’t see the other side and the dense woods encompassing the Cape Cod dwelling she had narrowly escaped from. If she ran, Felix would most assuredly shoot her in the back. She thought about screaming, and then realized no one was likely to hear her. Either way she needed to do something. And she preferred dying a quick death over the agonizing torture she sensed Popkov had in mind for her.
Felix made the decision for her. In three giant steps, he closed the distance between them and engulfed her from behind in his giant, muscular arms.
Popkov stood in front of her. He pressed his mouth over hers and forced his hot tongue between her lips. When she gagged, he slapped her hard across the face. “You’ll regret this, you stupid bitch. I’m going to shoot you so high with heroin, you’ll never want to come down. You’ll be spreading your legs for me in no time, begging me for a fix.”
Felix tightened his arms around her. “Should I take her back inside, boss?”
“No, you idiot. Those shots you fired are still echoing across the water. It’s only a matter of time before the police arrive. Throw her in the back of the truck. We’ll have to find another hiding spot until we’re ready to leave the country. Or perhaps we’ll drown her in the Hudson River and be done with her.”
Popkov released the latch and rolled open the back door of the cargo truck. Felix swooped Scottie up in his arms and tossed her in the back like a sack of flour. When she scurried to the edge, Felix forced the door down, missing her legs by an inch. Once again she found herself in pitch darkness, right back where she’d started from.
34
Guy ended the call with Roger Baird and pocketed his phone. “He’s sending an army of people. Problem is, it will take them a while to get here.”
“I’ll believe it when I see them with my own eyes,” Will said. “And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Baird wants us to find somewhere safe and wait for them.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.” Will started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, heading south in the opposite direction they’d come from earlier.
They drove aimlessly for several miles. When they passed a For Sale sign at the end of a long driveway, Guy ordered Will to turn around and go back.
“What for?” Will asked.
“I’d like to get a view of the lake,” Guy said. “Pretending to be interested in the house we just passed that’s on the market will give us that opportunity.”
Will pulled off the side of the road, waited for several oncoming cars to pass, and then turned around. They drove down a long gravel driveway until the trees gave way to a clearing. The house was a quaint cedar-shake cottage with dormer windows and a wide front porch overlooking the water. Will parked the car alongside the house and they got out.
“Nice spread,” Guy said, looking around. “Wonder how much they want for this place?”
Will cut his eyes at Guy. “Since when are you in the market for a lake house?”
“I’m retiring from politics, or didn’t I tell you? I’m thinking about moving to the country and writing my life story.”
Will laughed. “That’s gonna be an awfully short memoir. How old are you, thirty?”
Guy shrugged. “My adventures with Scottie will take up several chapters.”
“Oh no you don’t. Adventures with Scottie is my story. I have enough material for a three-episode series.”
They walked to the water’s edge, then down the long boardwalk to the end of the pier. The lake was at least a mile wide with a shoreline that meandered off in the distance. Motor boats pulling skiers raced about while small sailboats zigzagged back and forth across the water.
Will leaned back against a piling and massaged his temples. “I feel utterly helpless.” He spread his arms wide. “There are miles and miles of shoreline on this lake. Popkov could be holding my sister in any of these houses.”
“Baird is on the way, and he’s bringing a large team with him. They will canvass the area, door to door. We’re close to finding her, Will. I feel it.”
“I’m glad you feel it, because all I feel is angry. At Popkov, obviously, but at the FBI as well. Hell, I’m even a little angry at Scottie for not being more careful. Why’d she have to pick such a dangerous career? She’d be safer as a police officer.”
“I have to respectfully disagree with you, man. She’s your sister, and you know her much better than I do, but I can’t imagine a girl with as much spunk as Scottie sitting behind a desk crunching numbers all day. She does what she does for a living because it suits her personality. I’ve seen your sister in action. I saw her break Lightfoot’s nose, for crying out loud. She can take care of herself.”
“Oh really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Then explain to me why she’s in this situation.”
“She’s in this situation because my coworkers acted irresponsibly by posting those images online. And the result was just as Scottie had feared.” Guy looked away from him. “I’m willing to admit she makes an impulsive decision every now and then. But the results of those decisions haven’t always been bad, have they?”
Will thought about it for a minute. “Pretty much, yeah. Her choices almost always lead to trouble. The safest place for Scottie is in Richmond, taking pictures of babies and brides.”
Guy sat down on the edge of the dock. Tugging off his running shoes, he let his feet dangle in the water. “I haven’t known her for that long, but I can’t imagine Scottie being content as a wedding photographer. She wants to see the world, live on the edge. After three miscarriages and seven years of being anchored to a deadbeat husband, she deserves that opportunity. She needs to get it out of her system.”
“And where exactly do you fit in?”
Guy locked eyes with him. “Any place she’ll let me.”
“You say that now, bro. You haven’t been on Scottie’s Wild Ride of Adventure for that long. But once you’ve been rocking and rolling for awhile, you’ll be begging to get off. I would never abandon my sister, don’t get me wrong. I just want her someplace safe, where I can keep my eye on her without risking my life.”
“All I’m saying is, she’ll settle down in her own time,” Guy said. “Who knows? She might be ready after this episode.”
Will hung his head. “Let’s just hope she survives this episode.”
“Keep the faith, my friend. She’s going to survive.” Guy lay back on t
he dock, letting the sun warm his face. “The weather is so pleasant up here in the mountains. Warm with no humidity. I’m tempted to take my clothes off and jump in the water in my boxer shorts.”
“Go for it, dude. I’ll try not to laugh when a realtor drives up with a prospective buyer.”
They sat in silence for a while. Guy was putting his shoes back on when two loud successive pops echoed across the water. “Did you hear that?” Guy asked.
Will walked to the edge of the dock. “I did, but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. I’d guess fireworks or gunshots.”
“Sounded like gunshots to me.” Guy held his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun as he looked out across the lake. “If I had to guess, I’d say they came from somewhere over there.” He pointed to a wooded area around the bend from them.
“Let’s go check it out.” Will sprinted down the pier, and Guy took off after him with one shoe on and one shoe off.
Will started the engine and peeled out of the gravel driveway. He hit the road and headed north in the direction of the gunshots. Lifting the lid on the center console, he removed his pistol and checked that the magazine was full.
“Okay, now drive slow,” Guy said. “I think the sounds came from property somewhere along in here.”
Will slowed to twenty miles an hour. About a half mile up the road, a white cargo truck sped out of a driveway in front of them, nearly tipping over on its side as it made the sharp turn moving in the opposite direction from them.
Guy caught a glimpse of the license plate. “That’s them! That’s Popkov! Turn this bitch around.”
Will whipped the truck around and took off after them. Guy punched 911 on his cell phone and reported the situation to the operator. He used calm, measured sentences, but the urgency in his tone was undeniable. “We are headed south on Highway 31. The suspects are driving a white nondescript cargo truck with Pennsylvania plates, XLM nine-eight-four-five. We are right on their tail in a dark-gray Silverado pickup truck. Hurry! It’s a matter of life and death.”
Breaking the Story Page 19
