I nodded. “Thanks, Gunny. Maybe later.”
“I’m here all night. All week. Hell, all the time.”
Gunny went back down the bar, and I went back to my internal war. I took out my phone and looked at the string of messages again. The words were chilling enough, but the picture froze me. Katharine was bound to a heavy wooden chair. It looked like lightweight nylon rope secured each ankle to a chair leg. Several wraps of the rope were wound around her midsection, and her arms were pulled behind her. I presumed her wrists were tied behind her. She had either resisted or been handled very roughly because the top buttons of the shirt she wore were missing and the shirt was gaping open and pulled nearly off one shoulder. In spite of everything else, it was the terror in her eyes that was the most magnetic. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from hers.
Suddenly a group of men took the last several stools at my end of the bar. I blanked my screen and shoved the phone into my pocket. Looking up, I saw Gunny watching me intently from a few feet away. As my eyes met his, he strode toward me and said, “Hey, Jack, you got a minute? Got something I want to show you. Think you’ll appreciate it.”
It took a second for his words to register. What the hell was he talking about? Not coming up with a reasonable rejection, I said, “Sure.” I took a long pull on my beer and slid off my stool.
Gunny pointed at the guy who had taken the stool next to me and said to him, “Frank, you watch my friend’s beer and save his spot. We’ll be right back.”
The guy nodded. “You got it, Gunny.”
Gunny came around the bar, and I followed him as he led me to the office in the rear. Up close, the office looked even more cluttered than from a distance. With the exception of the walkway that led from the door to the desk, nearly the entire floor was covered with piles of cartons. Some seemed to be boxed supplies and others boxes of receipts and files. Piles of paper covered the entire top of the battered gray steel desk. I couldn’t imagine how he could find anything in the clutter.
Gunny didn’t even hesitate in the office but walked through a second door in the far corner. I followed. Once through the second door, the sensory overload of the office gave way to an immaculate living area. The open room contained a small galley kitchen on one side and a four-place dining table on the other. The far side of the room housed a leather recliner and a small couch facing a large flat screen television mounted on the wall. Through an open door I could see another room with a tightly made bed and adjoining bathroom. The entire scene was the absolute antithesis of the bar and office. The only thing out of place in the room was Gunny in his mismatched hunting clothes and rubber boots.
Gunny turned and faced me. One corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. He said, “Have a seat, Jack,” as he gestured toward one of the chairs at the table. “I think we need something a little stronger than that cheap-ass beer.” As I followed his directions and took a seat, Gunny retrieved a bottle of Wild Turkey and two glasses from the kitchen, deftly carrying the bourbon in the crook of his left arm and the glasses in his right hand.
Gunny poured a couple of inches of bourbon into each glass and handed one to me. As he clinked his glass against mine, he sat down and said, “Cheers, my friend. Now tell me what the hell is going on. Something is weighing on you like a Patton tank. You need somebody to talk to, so fire away.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a request. It was an order.
I took a sip of the bourbon and stared across the table at this man I’d only met a couple of days ago. His eyes were remarkably clear and intense for a man of his age. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and he was absolutely correct — I did need someone to talk to. Without preamble, I launched into a condensed version of the story of my marriage to Katharine, my relationship with Benjamin, and his deathbed request. I told him how Katharine had joined me at the lodge two days ago and how she disappeared today. Then I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the text messages before sliding it across the table to Gunny.
Gunny slowly scrolled through the short text exchange. He opened the photo of Katharine and gazed at it for what seemed like a minute. Looking up at me, in a calm, clear voice, he said, “Seems like you have until tomorrow at ten. Let’s figure out where the hell they have her and go get her tonight.” He gently pushed the phone back across the table and took a meaningful sip of his bourbon.
I processed his words, but my mind couldn’t create a picture of what they were indicating. How would we figure out where she was? How would we go get her? It just wasn’t computing. Yet Gunny emitted a vibe of absolute confidence. There was no doubt that he believed his words and he had a clear picture of what they meant. The man I met behind the bar would not have inspired me, but the man in this spotless and highly organized environment was a different creature altogether. I asked, “How would we determine where she’s being held?”
Gunny reached toward my phone on the table. “May I?” I nodded, and he retrieved it. Pinning the phone to the table with his thumb, he deftly enlarged the photo of Katharine with two fingers. After studying the photo for a couple of minutes, he said, “It’s no doubt a hunting cabin. My bet is that it’s close. I don’t recognize it, but I know someone who will. Mind if we show this to somebody else?”
“Whoa, Gunny, I can’t let it get out that I’ve told anyone. Who knows what they’ll do to Katharine.”
Gunny nodded in understanding. “True, Jack, but I can promise you that if I tell this guy to keep his mouth shut, it’ll stay shut.” Again, the tone of confidence in his voice was unwavering.
I nodded. “All right, Gunny, but remember I’m trusting you with Katharine’s life.” I looked him directly in the eyes as I spoke. He never blinked. Not once.
Gunny told me to stay where I was, and he disappeared through the door to the office and bar. Five minutes later, he was back with a short wiry man who looked to be about Gunny’s age. His weathered face was a roadmap of fine lines. I vaguely remembered seeing him in the bar earlier. He was introduced to me as Eddie. Eddie’s attire was a bit more coordinated than Gunny’s but not significantly. He lowered himself lightly into a chair at the table and said, “Got another of them glasses, Gunny?”
Gunny had already been in the process of obtaining a glass from the kitchen. He slid it across the table to Eddie.
Eddie grabbed the bottle and poured himself a drink. He took a healthy gulp of the bourbon without even the hint of a flinch. He looked across the table at Gunny and said, “Okay, Gunny, what can I help you two gents with? Anything, anything at all, unless it’s underground.”
Based on Eddie’s appearance and his obvious affinity for booze, I was really starting to question my decision to allow Gunny to bring him into our confidence.
Gunny looked at me and said, “Eddie here was a tunnel rat in ’Nam. Left him with a justified aversion to anything subterranean.”
I opened the photo of Katharine and pushed the phone over to Eddie. “Gunny thought you might be able to tell us what hunting cabin this is from the background in the photo.”
Eddie stared intently at the photo and cocked his head to one side. “Damn. Pretty lady. What the hell’s going on with her? Somebody holding her hostage?”
“Yeah, she’s a pretty lady, and we want to keep her that way, Eddie. So, where do you think that picture was taken?” Gunny’s voice was controlled but firm.
Eddie pursed his lips and slowly nodded his head. “That’s the old Whitehorse place. You know, up on the last ridge before Club Stream, north of County Road 820.” He paused and then added, “I don’t know who owns it now, but that’s definitely the old Whitehorse place.”
I blurted out, “How can you be so sure?”
Looking startled, Eddie glanced at me and then directed his answer to Gunny. “See the cockeyed window in the background? When Joey Whitehorse built the place, he got the window framing in crooked. I hunted out there with him many a time. Never quit ribbing him about that window. No, that’s the Whitehorse place, all right. I
’d bet my life on it.”
I started to reply, but Gunny’s quick glare silenced me. Gunny asked, “How do we get there, Eddie?”
Eddie replied, “So, somebody kidnap her, or something? Why don’t you call the cops?” He took another long drink of bourbon.
Gunny said, “The cops aren’t an option at this time. Now can you get us there or not?”
“Sure, Gunny. I can show you how to get there. Ain’t easy, though. Well, last couple miles ain’t easy. You can get to within a couple miles of it on CR 820, but only way in is by foot or four-wheeler.”
“Hang tight for a second,” said Gunny as he rose from the table and walked into the bedroom area. Eddie and I sipped our drinks in silence. Gunny returned a minute later and unfolded a topographical map on the table. Gunny pointed at an area on the map. “Here’s CR 820 headed northeast, and here’s Club Stream. So, where’s this cabin?”
Eddie leaned over the map and traced several lines with his fingers. “It’s right here, right on top of the highest point of this long ridge.”
Gunny studied the map intently. Finally, he said, “So, this is the trail leading to the cabin coming in this direction?” He pointed at a squiggly line among hundreds of others on the map.
“Yeah, there is a spot you can park on the side of CR 820 right where it crosses Club Stream. Fishermen have carved out a spot large enough for two, maybe three, vehicles. Like I said, it’s a four-wheeler or foot from there.”
Gunny was running his fingers along the topographical lines of the map. “So, the trail in runs parallel to the ridge, increasing in elevation as it goes?”
“You got it, Gunny. That’s a damn steep ridge in the area of the cabin.”
Gunny studied the map another minute. “What about the backside? Could we go in on the other side of Club Stream and come up the backside somehow? Could we get back across the stream?”
Eddie rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin. “Damn, Gunny, that’s tough to say.” Then he leaned in closer to the map. “Here’s what you could do.” Pointing at a line on the map, he said, “This is an old logging road. It comes out to CR 820 three miles east, but if it’s still passable, you could take it to a point about a mile directly behind the cabin. Then the only question is could you get across the stream. With all of the rain we’ve had, that might be a real trick.”
I was starting to understand some of the myriad of lines on the map. I asked, “Looks like the stream angles east just past the cabin. Is there any access from the northwest? Avoid the stream, but be generally behind the cabin.”
Gunny and Eddie both leaned in toward the map. Gunny pointed at a line. “What’s this, Eddie?”
Eddie hesitated and then said, “Not positive, but I think that’s an old trail road that led to another cabin that was out there once. It burned down a decade ago.”
I asked, “So, where it ends in the middle of nowhere is probably where the cabin was?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s right.” He gauged the area with a couple of his fingers. “If you could get that far, you’d be about two miles from the Whitehorse Cabin. Tough going, though. Steep rough country.”
“But we’d be coming up on the backside of the Whitehorse Cabin,” stated Gunny.
Eddie smiled. “That is true, my friend.”
We talked about the proposed route for a couple more minutes and then Eddie downed the last of his Wild Turkey and said, “If that’s all you need, Gunny, I have a beer getting warm out there.”
Gunny patted the small man on the back and said, “Yeah. Thanks much, Eddie. And remember, there’s no need to say anything about this little discussion to anyone.”
Eddie waved over his shoulder as he was leaving. “What discussion? I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
Gunny retrieved a pencil from a drawer in the kitchen and made several marks on the map. Grinning, he said, “I bought a bunch of these topo maps years ago but never used them. Looks like they’re going to finally pay off.”
It was obvious to me that Gunny was planning a rescue of Katharine. I just wasn’t certain that was the safest course of action. I didn’t even know what her captors wanted. I asked, “You think we can hike in there and rescue Katharine without her getting hurt in the process? Maybe we should wait until after the contact tomorrow morning and see what they’re asking for?”
“I wouldn’t propose it if I didn’t think we could do it without her getting hurt. That’s a one-room hunting cabin we’re talking about. That one crooked window you saw in the picture is probably the only window in the whole place. One door and one window. That’s what most are like out there. We sneak in during the dead of night, burst through the door, catching everybody sleeping. It’ll be over before they know what hit ’em. They kidnapped her, and we’re going to take her back. Who cares what they’re planning to ask for?”
“You think just you and I can do that?”
Gunny laughed out loud. “Hell yeah, we’re a couple of bar owners, aren’t we?” He paused and then continued, “We might be able to pull it off alone, but too much is at stake to take any chances. I thought I would get together four or five guys I know around town. Guys who have spent a lot of time in the woods. A couple of them are ex-military. I’m confident we can pull it off.”
I wasn’t nearly as certain as Gunny was, but his quiet confidence was reassuring. I asked, “When do you think we should make our attempt?”
He looked at me and winced. “Not an attempt, Jack. We’re going to do it.” I nodded in agreement. He continued, “I say we leave here at 2:00 a.m. Everyone will meet here, and we’ll take one, maybe two vehicles. Leave the rest here. Not unusual for people to get a snoot full and leave vehicles in the lot overnight. Also, won’t look suspicious to have a couple of vehicles pulling out of here at 2:00 a.m. Doubt that anyone is watching, but we won’t leave anything to chance. All goes well, we’ll be at the cabin at 3:00 or 3:30. Perfect time to catch everyone asleep.”
We talked a few minutes more, and Gunny went over his basic plan with me. Then he told me that I should go back to the lodge now and return to the Buck Pole at 1:30 a.m. If someone were watching me, they would think I had come to the bar to catch last call. He asked if Benjamin had any hunting clothes at the lodge, and I replied that I doubted it. Benjamin wasn’t a hunter. He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a neatly folded set of camouflage coveralls. As we were walking back through the office to the bar, I stopped and said, “Gunny, your world is such a dichotomy. Your home is so neat and orderly, and the bar and this office are so . . . well, not orderly.”
He smiled and said, “My home reflects who I am. The bar and this office reflect what people perceive I am. The bar was like that when I bought it, and if I had attempted to change it, I would have lost half of my customer base. The bar’s where I work. My home is where I live. Who I am.”
As I walked back through the Buck Pole, there was hardly an open seat. The place was a din of alcohol-fueled conversation drowning out the music blaring in the background. I noticed Gunny make his way over to two guys at a small table on the far side of the room. He bent down, and said something to them and they immediately nodded in the affirmative. They were considerably younger than Gunny, but their demeanor toward him displayed a definite respect. My guess was that they were the two ex-military guys he had mentioned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Though it was only 6:00 p.m. as I drove back to the lodge, it was already dark. Again, there was heavy cloud cover. It was going to be a dark night. The darkness of the route back convinced me that no one was following me. The lodge was pitch-black as I parked in front. I needed to use the light on my phone to find the keyhole in the front door. I walked through the lodge, turning on lights. For some reason, the darkness was creeping me out.
I paused in the master suite. The terry cloth robe Katharine was wearing this morning was draped across the corner of the bed. I picked it up and held it. I could smell her per
fume. My heart began to race. God, I wanted to get her back. I had to get her back. I walked around the suite, holding the robe. Her things were everywhere. Makeup and toiletries in the bathroom. Clothes in the closet. It was as if she was here but wasn’t. Finally, I dropped the robe back on the bed and started to leave the room. I noticed a small notepad with the name of Katharine’s law firm on the cover. I absentmindedly picked it up and opened it. Blank pages. I slipped it into my pocket and left the room.
My nervous energy was intensifying with each passing minute. I wanted a drink but knew that would be a mistake. I wasn’t hungry, my late lunch was only a couple of hours earlier. I wanted to be doing something but had no idea what. I went outside, thinking the cool evening air would help clear my head. I found myself walking around the parking area and surrounding buildings. My body was in the parking area, but my mind was somewhere else. The entire day was replaying in my head. Well, the day beginning with finding Katharine’s car.
I began to question my decision to follow Gunny’s plan. Suddenly, it seemed reckless. I didn’t really know Gunny. I had no doubt that he was confident and well intentioned, but that didn’t mean he could lead a successful rescue of Katharine. And who will the guys be that he gets to help? There won’t be anyone the least bit sober by the time I get back to the Buck Pole. The more I thought about Gunny’s plan, the more it seemed like it had the potential of becoming a real fiasco. A catastrophe that could end with harm to Katharine or even death.
Still, before Gunny got involved, I didn’t even have any idea where she was being held. That was a major piece of information I didn’t have when I was considering going to the police. With the location identified, couldn’t the police send in a S.W.A.T. team? Wouldn’t they have a much better chance of intervening without harm to Katharine than whatever band of raiders Gunny would assemble? I looked at my phone. No signal. If I were going to contact the police, I would need to leave here and drive until I had a decent signal. They would request a face-to-face interview. What if I was being watched? The only instruction I’d been given was to not contact the police. The threat was that the consequences would be Katharine’s death.
Loyal Be Jack Page 12
