Loyal Be Jack

by Robert Tarrant

  We talked for another hour, but both of us were struggling to keep our eyelids open. The fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, but fireplaces don’t project that much heat, and when you got a few feet away, the temperature in the lodge was noticeably lower. Katharine suggested that she get a couple of blankets and pillows from the bedroom and we sleep on the couch in front of the fireplace. Seemed like a good idea, so I agreed. While she was gone, I extinguished all but a couple of the candles we had burning.

  A few minutes later, we were nestled onto the couch, my head at one end, hers at the other. We had taken many an afternoon nap in this configuration in the small apartment we shared the last year of law school. I looked toward Katharine, illuminated by the soft light of the fireplace, and for the first time since that night I had walked in on her and Judge Callaghan, I found myself missing her. I found myself having feelings toward her that I had previously thought no longer possible. Feelings that did not feel strange and were definitely familiar. I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When I awoke, it took me a few seconds to figure out where I was. I got my bearings and looked down the couch, but Katharine was gone. Sitting up, I realized that the fire in the fireplace was nothing more than glowing embers, but the room was warm. That’s when I noticed light streaming from the kitchen doorway. Going into the kitchen, I found Katharine, wearing a terry-cloth robe with a towel wrapped around her head, putting a dish into the oven. I said, “Power came back on, huh?”

  She turned and smiled. “No, I went out and started the generator.”

  “You did?”

  She laughed. “No, silly. The power came back on about five.” She gave me a peck on the cheek. “Good morning, Jack. I’m going to go dry my hair. I had to have a shower this morning. Can’t remember the last time I went to bed without a shower.” Gesturing toward the stove, she added, “Breakfast casserole in the oven. Ready in thirty minutes.” With that, she padded off in the direction of the master suite. I stood in the doorway with my hand touching the cheek she had just kissed like some love-struck teenager. Finally focusing, I spotted the coffee pot. After pouring myself a steaming mug, I headed off toward my own shower.

  After breakfast, Katharine told me she needed to contact her office and, while the power was back on, the cell coverage hadn’t improved. She left for town saying she would be back in an hour or so. I trudged up the stairs to the study with the distinct feeling that I would rather be spending the morning together than apart. Careful, Jack.

  Engrossed in my work, I soon lost track of time. Something in the back of my mind kept reminding me of the two incidents involving Shifty. I found myself scanning Benjamin’s notes looking for additional references to Shifty. Suddenly, the name jumped off the page at me. There it was, a third entry where Benjamin had intervened on behalf of Shifty in an incident of sexual misconduct. While this entry was as vague as the earlier ones in describing the conduct of Shifty, its tone clearly conveyed a sense of disgust on Benjamin’s part. Disgust that bordered on rage. Again, the notes contained no information identifying the victim. I was beginning to firmly believe that I was on the track of the events that had haunted Benjamin on his deathbed. Either Shifty’s behavior had escalated into something Benjamin found even more egregious or the cumulative weight of the events had brought his conscience to its tipping point. In either case, I felt that the name, Shifty, was the magnet that might actually find the needle in the haystack.

  My newfound concentration was interrupted by a loud beeping sound coming from the area of the front entry. I went downstairs and saw a red light flashing on the alarm panel. It was marked, Gate. I recalled that Andy had told me this was the motion detector that alerted that someone had entered the front gate. During my stay, I had never been inside when someone arrived. Katharine was the only one to enter, and I had been outside both times she came in. I looked at the clock and realized that it was nearly noon. I had expected Katharine to be back long ago, but her call must have taken longer than she expected. I stepped out onto the porch to greet her.

  To my surprise, it was Andy’s pickup that came up the drive. After parking, he stepped out of the truck. “Hey there, Jack. I thought I would swing by and see how you were doing. Quite the storm we had last night. Did the power go out here?”

  “It did. Out a few hours. Back on when we got up this morning.”

  Andy looked momentarily quizzical, the word “we” probably confused him, but he didn’t ask. His only response was, “Did you get the generator started?”

  “I tried, but I think I flooded it. I was going to try again but no need.”

  He turned toward the shed that housed the generator. “It can be damn finicky sometimes. Let’s go give it a try.”

  I followed Andy to the shed, and much to my chagrin, it started almost immediately for him. All I could say was, “You make it look so easy.”

  Andy patted me on the back and said, “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve got years of experience with this thing, and it sometimes gives me fits, too.”

  “So, you don’t choke it?”

  “Depends. You told me that you thought you had flooded it, so I only choked it a little. Normally, I would give it full choke for a couple of cranks and then back the choke off about halfway until it fires. Let it warm up a few minutes and then back off the choke completely.”

  We stepped outside the now noisy shed, and I said, “Watching you do it makes it look easy. Of course, I readily admit I’m not a mechanical wizard. With any luck, I won’t have the occasion to need to start it again.”

  “Are you wrapping up your project for Benjamin? You gotten through all that stuff upstairs? You must have been working hard?”

  Nodding, I said, “I believe I’ve found what I need to finish soon. Maybe today or tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t read the expression on Andy’s face. Maybe he was waiting for me to elaborate. I said, “I better get back to it. Thanks for stopping in and checking on me.”

  As I started back toward the lodge, Andy called out, “Sharon wanted me to ask how your groceries are holding out? You need anything?”

  I laughed and said, “Not unless I’m here another month.”

  “I thought that would be the answer, but she made me promise to ask.” As he turned to reenter the shed, he said, “I’ll let this run a few minutes to warm up thoroughly and then shut it down. I’ll turn the gas off, so if you do need to start it, you’ll need to turn the gas back on.”

  “Got it. Thanks again, Andy.” He went into the shed, and I returned to the lodge. As I reentered, I again thought about Katharine being gone much longer than I expected. Of course, I don’t know what I had calibrated my expectations on. She said she had to contact the office. Who knows what all that entails. I knew that the one hour estimate she had given me when she left was nothing more than a guess. She could have been on back-to-back conference calls all morning. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, but the anemic system strength indicator discouraged any attempt to call her. Probably just as well. She wouldn’t think it was my role to be worrying about her whereabouts.

  Although it was lunchtime, I didn’t want to eat without Katharine. Just seemed rude. Brewing a small pot of coffee, I took a mug upstairs. With a keyword to look for — Shifty — I started to cruise through the materials. Every once in a while I would notice something else in Benjamin’s notes that drew my attention, but nothing rose to the level of emotion I had sensed from his writings regarding Shifty. I turned a page, and my suspicions were confirmed. This entry began with the words “That S.O.B has been up to it again.” It went on for two full pages describing how dirty Benjamin felt about his continuing role in protecting someone he believed to be a sexual predator. The entry ended with the words, “I told him that this was the absolute last time. He would need to find someone else to do his dirty work.” Now there was no doubt in my mind these were the transgressions for which Benjamin had asked me to make amends. What I had
no clue to was how to make amends. I’d found no information to identify either the victims or Shifty.

  I made quick work of looking through the remaining two boxes of materials. Benjamin had evidently been true to his word as I found no further mention of Shifty. I even took a few minutes and quickly sorted through the materials Katharine had reviewed. I sat back and looked at the small stack of notes that I had set aside, referring to the four incidents. I was perplexed. What should my next step be? I noticed the small desk clock showing the time as 3:00 p.m. Still no sign of Katharine. I decided to drive into town to grab a burger at the Buck Pole. Hopefully, the break would help me clear my head, and I could construct a strategy to move forward.

  If I had been perfectly honest with myself, I would have admitted that part of the reason I wanted to go into town was to see if I could spot Katharine. I had expected her back here long ago, and I was getting worried. Hadn’t seen the woman in years, until she showed up three weeks ago, and now I was worrying about her. Sometimes I’m pathetic.

  I drove through Vanderbilt but didn’t see Katharine’s car. I decided that maybe she’d gone to Gaylord for some reason. Gaylord is a much larger town, by northern Michigan standards, and only about fifteen miles south. I pulled into the parking lot at the Buck Pole and dodged the large water-filled potholes as I made my way to the building. Two pickup trucks were parked in front. The lot was otherwise empty.

  I walked in and found the bar totally empty. Not a soul in sight. The lights were on, and it certainly appeared to be open, except for the obvious lack of customers. Taking a stool at the bar, I called out, “Hello, anyone here?”

  A door in the back wall popped open, and Gunny came out. “Oh, hi, Jack. Didn’t hear you come in. Just trying to catch up on some paperwork. Government paperwork is killing us small business guys, but you know that. Get ya a Labatt Blue?” The door he had entered through stood open, revealing a closet-sized office that made the decorating of the bar look minimalistic.

  “Sure. Can I get a burger and fries, too?”

  “As long as you don’t mind the wait.” Gesturing around the room with his stub, he said, “As you can see, we’re pretty damn busy.” He laughed at his own joke, although the laugh ended in a cough.

  As he set the beer down in front of me, Gunny said, “What brings you into town? The excitement of the crowd or just a need for an infusion of cholesterol?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Oh, probably a little bit of both.”

  “‘Course, there’s always my witty banter as a draw.” He had drawn a second beer and set it on the bar in front of the stool next to me. He said, “Now don’t touch that while I’m gone getting your order placed. That one’s mine, unless the liquor control guys come in, and it becomes your buddy’s. He had to run an errand but is coming back.”

  It took me a second to understand, but I did and replied with a thumbs up. Gunny disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and then returned to his post behind the bar. As we chatted, he would take a drink of the beer and then carefully place it back in the same spot on the bar. My imaginary buddy drank quite a bit faster than I did. Gunny told me that he had served twenty years in the Marine Corps and done three tours in Vietnam at the beginning of his career. He mentioned it almost in passing, as if it was a part of his life that he preferred not to dwell on.

  As I was finishing my late lunch, a few people started to trickle in. I noticed that my imaginary friend’s beer disappeared from the bar. Tending to the other customers, Gunny hadn’t brought me a check, so I left a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and waved to him as I left. I drove through town again. This time I noticed Katharine’s car parked at the edge of a parking lot utilized by ride-sharing commuters located near I-75. There were only three other cars in the lot, and I thought I would have noticed hers the first time through but guessed I missed it. I thought maybe this was the location she’d found the strongest cell signal, but as I drove by, it appeared the car was empty. That seemed confusing. Where would she be? I turned around and drove into the lot. I parked next to her car and got out to take a look. I was stunned to find the car empty with the exception of her small purse lying on the front passenger’s seat. I tried the door and found it unlocked. That made no sense at all. Katharine wouldn’t leave her purse in an unlocked car. She just wouldn’t.

  Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I hurriedly called hers. After several rings, her voicemail answered. I left a message telling her I’d found her car and purse and asking if she was okay. Although the message sounded a little pleading, I didn’t care. I had been struck by the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. My mind defined a scenario where Katharine had come to this parking area to make her calls. After all, this was the location I had suggested to her yesterday. Somehow she had been abducted from her car. I was debating what to do when the cell phone in my hand vibrated, announcing an incoming text message from Katharine.

  Momentarily, a wave of relief swept over me. Then, as quickly as relief had flooded my mind, it was dashed to bits. The text read, “We have her. No cops. Cops — she dies. We will be in touch.”

  My body was frozen, my mind was reeling. What the hell was going on? This couldn’t be happening. Who had Katharine? Why? What should I do? I should go to the police. But they said if I did, they would kill her. They wouldn’t know, would they? I looked around the parking lot. Maybe they’re watching me. They’d know if I contacted the police. I started to retrieve Katharine’s purse from the car when I noticed the keys hanging in the ignition. Someone kidnapped her from the car, not taking the car or her purse. Why?

  After locking her car, I put the keys in her purse and the purse in the trunk of my car. I knew that I was impacting the crime scene but didn’t want to leave everything unsecured until I had time to decide what to do. I started to drive out of town toward the lodge but suddenly realized that if I was there, the kidnappers might not be able to reach me again. If I didn’t respond, they might . . . I couldn’t think about it. Turning around, I drove aimlessly around the small town before finding myself again in the parking lot at the Buck Pole.

  I sat in the car with my mind spinning. Of course they don’t want me to call the cops; the cops could probably locate Katharine’s cell phone in a matter of minutes. I looked around and remembered I wasn’t in a metropolitan area. Maybe the authorities in an area like this don’t have immediate access to the types of resources necessary to quickly locate cell phones? Maybe they do? Maybe they don’t? Damn, Jack, take a breath and think.

  Suddenly, the thought occurred to me that all I really knew was that someone had Katharine’s phone. I didn’t know that they had her. If they did have her, I didn’t know that she was still alive. My body shook, but I forced my mind into a prosecutor’s role and decided that I needed proof that she was alive before I did anything. Grabbing my phone, I texted a reply, “I need proof. Proof she is safe.”

  A minute passed. Two. My hands started to tremble and a chill crept through my body. Then the phone vibrated. “Your proof.” Attached to the text message was a photo. A photo of Katharine tied to a chair. Her clothes were askew as if she had been in a struggle, and her face registered terror. My heart seemed to momentarily stop. I stared at the photo. It was real. Katharine had been kidnapped. I caught my breath and said out loud, “Focus, Jack. No mistakes. Do what you’re told and get her back safe.”

  I texted a reply, “What do you want?”

  Within seconds, I received a reply. “You will receive instructions at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. Don’t miss the call or she dies. Don’t contact the cops or she dies. Her life is in your hands.” What the hell. Nothing until 10:00 a.m.

  I sent back, “Why not now? I’ll do whatever you want now.”

  Almost immediately the response came. “10:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  I again sent, “Why not now?” I waited ten minutes but received no response. They probably turned her phone off so it couldn’t be tracked. Should I go back to the lodge? Are they watch
ing me? I looked around the Buck Pole parking lot. There were several vehicles, mostly pickups, here now. It was early evening, dark was rapidly setting in, and the crowd inside was no doubt growing. For some reason, I felt like it would be good to be among other people right now.

  As I had expected, there were now a couple dozen customers inside. One half of the bar stools were occupied, as were a number of tables. Gunny was still behind the bar but a middle-aged woman had joined him. A high-school-aged girl was waiting tables. Making my way to the far end of the bar, where I could see most of the other patrons and the door, I sat down on a stool. Gunny ambled up and said, “Hey there, big spender. Back to drink up the rest of that twenty you left?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  My mind was spinning. I felt like I should be doing something, but a mistake could cost Katharine her life. First, I considered calling PJ and asking her advice but knew what she would say. No doubt, she’d tell me to contact the police. That’s what I would tell someone if they came to me with the same problem, Yet I just couldn’t bring myself to make that call. If I was being watched, or the police bungled things, the kidnappers might follow through on their threats. That was a chance I just couldn’t take.

  Gunny’s scratchy voice startled me. “None of my business, but you okay, Jack? You’ve been staring at that beer for twenty minutes and haven’t taken a sip.”

  I looked up. “Ah, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Glancing around the bar, and in an effort to change the subject, I said, “Looks like business is picking up.”

  Gunny held me in a steely gaze. “Yeah, we’re doing okay.” He started to turn away but stopped. “You know, Jack, you look like you could use a friend. I don’t imagine you know many people around here. Just so you know, I’m a pretty good listener and a real quick forgetter. In case you want to talk.”