Red’s eyes were barely open. He was drifting off to sleep.
“Mr. Red Feather,” Andrews pleaded, “I need you to tell me what you can.”
“Rose . . . Rattling Thunder . . . was made up and dressed to look like an old woman,” he murmured weakly. “Her car was broken down on the side of the highway. I didn’t . . . recognize her at first. When I did . . . it was too late.”
“Rose Rattling Thunder kidnapped Jackie Yellow Wolf and then you were ambushed afterward?” Andrews asked.
“Yeah,” Red rasped.
“Did you see the men who attacked you?” Andrews asked.
“No . . . they were . . . behind the tree line,” Red replied. “There were four of them.”
Andrews took in a deep breath and exhaled, “Rest assured, Mr. Red Feather, we’re going to do everything in our power to get the people responsible for this and bring Matty’s son home safely.”
“We need to let him rest now,” the nurse said. “He’s extremely weak.”
Back in the hallway Andrews made a quick call. He hung up and turned back to Lindsay, “When we realized Hank Rattling Thunder was likely to be involved, we went looking for his daughter, Rose. She was nowhere to be found. We were trying to confirm our theory. This is what we needed.”
“How does this help you?” Lindsay asked.
“Now that we have a verifiable connection that Hank Rattling Thunder is involved, we can suspend the searches we have going in other directions and focus purely on HRT. We’ll find him, and we’ll get your son back. In the meantime, we’ve tapped your phone and your mother’s phone. We believe Hank Rattling Thunder will contact one of you soon with ransom demands. I have an FBI negotiator coming in. I need you to spend some time with him. He’ll coach you on what to say and do when HRT calls. The important thing is, to keep him on the line.”
Lindsay nodded.
“Now, go get some rest,” Andrews implored.
Chapter 4
For Lindsay, the following day grinded by at an agonizing pace. There was nothing new on her husband’s condition and nothing new on the search for Jackie, Hank Rattling Thunder, or his daughter, Rose. The sole bit of good news was Red Feather continued to make progress.
The FBI moved Summer Rose and her children into Lindsay’s home along with Vandy and Sam, where he could better protect all of them in the event Hank Rattling Thunder decided to come after them. Lindsay’s house was tightly guarded.
Andrews was doing his best to keep their situation away from the media, but it was only a matter of time before her life became a circus sideshow. Between the Sheriff’s Department and the employees at the hospital, too many people knew about what was happening for it to not leak to the press eventually. For this moment at least, the media was silent.
When Lindsay’s mother arrived, they spent all of two hours together before breaking out in a full-blown argument over how to manage the situation. Vandy wanted to hire her own investigators, people she could control. Lindsay trusted Andrews and wanted to allow the FBI to do their jobs without interference. The argument was loud and ugly. Lindsay stood her ground, managing once again, to not break out in tears.
Sam Steele, Lindsay’s stepfather and member of the Brotherhood Protectors, did his best to referee the exchange, but the two strong-headed women proved to be too much for even a former Army Ranger officer to handle. In the end, the best Sam could do was separate them.
“I can’t believe Lindsay is being so pig-headed about this,” Vandy said to Sam, once he corralled them into neutral corners.
“Yeah, I wonder where she gets that?” Sam asked rhetorically.
“We can’t wait on the FBI, Sam,” Vandy snapped. “You know how fast the bureaucracy works. We have to act now.”
Elaine ‘Vandy’ Vanderbilt was a former top fashion model and the founder of the PACNY fashion designers, one of the world’s top ten clothing lines. She’d met her husband during a time when Sam had been assigned to protect her as a member of the Brotherhood Protectors. She married Sam and retired to live on a magnificent ranch in Livingston, Montana. Despite dropping out of the limelight, Vandy remained a high-profile target for the paparazzi, primarily due to her outspoken political agenda, her charity work and her magnetic beauty. Vandy was recently named one of People Magazine’s top fifty most beautiful people. It was the third time in eight years she’d made the cut. At forty-five, Vandy was one of the oldest people on the list.
“This is Lindsay’s child and husband,” Sam said, calmly. “Special Agent Andrews is a good man and Lindsay trusts him. You need to let Lindsay manage this.”
“Lindsay can’t manage this,” Vandy insisted.
Sam faced her and took both her hands, lifting them to his mouth. He kissed them, “Vandy, Lindsay is no longer a child. She’s twenty-seven-years-old. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but she’s grown into a mature woman. She’s not the reckless teenager you remember her as. She’s the CEO of Lindhorse Recovery. She’s been doing amazing work at the res.”
“But she’s too close to this,” Vandy insisted. “She can’t possibly be in any condition to manage this situation.”
“And you would be?” Sam asked. “Vandy, I love you, but you have to face facts. You’re the one who’s out-of-control here. I’ve been watching Lindsay since we arrived. I’m amazed at how collected she is. Haven’t you seen that?”
Vandy leaned in. Sam released her hands. She slid into his arms and kissed him, “Yes, I noticed. I’ve been blown away at her self-control, really. I expected her to be hysterical, catatonic even. She’s anything but that.”
“You raised an amazing child, Vandy,” Sam said. “And now she’s become an amazing adult. She’s always been one of the smartest people I’ve known and now that she’s matured, the sky is the limit for her.”
Vandy sighed, “So you think I should just step away?”
“No,” Sam insisted. “I think you should be there for her, support her . . .”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Vandy exclaimed.
“No offense, sweetheart, but that’s not what you’re doing,” Sam argued. “You’re trying to control her. You are being . . . you. You want to take the bull by the horn and control everything. That’s not what she needs.”
Vandy buried her face into Sam’s chest. She began to sob, “I just want to help.”
“Everyone knows that, Vandy,” Sam assured. “Help her on her terms, not yours. Lindsay needs a clear head and the space to focus. Let her come to you. She will, too. I promise.”
Vandy looked into Sam’s eyes and then leaned in for another kiss. She loved kissing this man. She loved being in his arms.
“What would I ever do without you?” she asked.
“You’ll never know,” he replied. “I’m here for the duration.”
There was a peck on the door, “Mom?” Lindsay called out.
“Come in,” Vandy replied.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Lindsay said, opening the door. “A package arrived at my house—addressed to you, mom. There’s no return address. The FBI is bringing it here. Andrews is on the way.”
Chapter 5
“The bomb squad cleared the package,” Andrews announced. “It’s also been tested by HAZMAT for toxic substances. We’ve dusted it for fingerprints and came up with only UPS employees who handled the package. Magnetic resonance imaging reveals there is a cell phone and a note inside. It’s ok, Vandy, you can open it.”
Vandy opened the small box carefully. As Andrews indicated, inside was a cell phone, a charger and a single sheet of folded paper.
“Don’t touch the paper,” Andrews commanded. “Let me do it. I’d bet my paycheck we won’t find any fingerprints, but we have to do the diligence.”
Andrews used an instrument similar to tweezers; he extracted the paper. He used a second instrument to unfold it. Vandy saw the brief note, printed in a plain font from an inkjet printer. She read the note aloud:
We have your grands
on. He is safe for now. You have until six o’clock Sunday night to make arrangements to transfer $50 million to an offshore account we will specify by phone at fifteen minutes before six.
There will be no conversation. No negotiation. The call will last twenty seconds.
If you do not answer the call, your grandson will be killed.
If you do not transfer the money as instructed, your grandson will be killed.
Once the transfer has been verified, instructions will be provided to you for the safe delivery of your grandson.
Vandy began to cry.
Lindsay’s lip quivered; she felt light-headed; her hands began to tremble. Vandy hugged her and held her close.
“Okay, we knew this was coming,” Agent Andrews assured. “He’s making the call on Sunday. We have until tomorrow night to figure this out.”
“They addressed this to me,” Vandy noted, “but sent to Lindsay’s house. How did they know I’d be there?”
“With all due respect, Vandy, that would not be a stretch for them to assume,” Andrews said. “I also noted they made no demands for you to not involve the police or the FBI.”
“What does it mean?” Vandy asked.
Lindsay straightened up, “It means, they knew you and the FBI would be here.”
“She’s right,” Andrews agreed. “we’re not dealing with amateurs. They knew we were already here.”
“Did you determine where the package was sent from?” Lindsay asked.
Andrews nodded, “A UPS store in Plentywood. Cameras revealed a woman dropping the package off. She wore a hat and sunglasses and never looked at the camera.”
“It had to be Rose Rattling Thunder,” Lindsay surmised.
“Yep, not surprising,” Andrews agreed. “We tried to use street cameras to follow her but she knew just where the cameras were positioned and avoided them. We could not trace the path of her vehicle. We put out an APB on the car she was driving and found it two blocks away. Dead end.”
“Now what?” Lindsay asked.
“We will continue our broad sweeping search and prepare to trace the call,” Andrews advised. “We’ll have first response teams positioned all over the reservation and in Plentywood. The problem is the res is such a large area. The Ft. Peck res is spread out over two-million acres. It’s an area one-hundred and thirty miles by seventy miles. Depending on where they call from, our response time could be two minutes to, worst case, twenty minutes.”
“That’s assuming they’re holding Jackie on the res somewhere,” Lindsay noted.
“Right,” Andrews agreed, “but we have a high level of confidence he is on the res or close. Think about it. No one knows this country better than Hank Rattling Thunder. He knows every cave, abandoned barn and rabbit hole in this county. He’s comfortable here.”
“And I’m sure he has a dozen friends the FBI doesn’t know about who can hide him out,” Lindsay added.
“Also, true,” Andrews agreed.
“Won’t they know you’re going to trace the call?” Vandy asked.
“My question, too,” Lindsay added. “Won’t they have some high-tech system to avoid your trace?”
“I’m sure they will,” Andrews admitted, “but we have the very latest in communication technology at our disposal. Vandy, they will want to speak to you. Have you spoken with our hostage negotiator?”
“Yes, Lindsay and I both have,” Vandy affirmed.
“Good, because this may come down to how long you can keep them on the phone,” Andrews cautioned. “No matter how good the technology is, twenty seconds if not going to cut it.”
“Just tell me what I have to do,” Vandy said. “Should I have the money ready to transfer?”
Andrews sighed and nodded, “Let’s hope we don’t get that far, but yes, you should have it ready. Will it be a problem?”
“No. I’ll be ready,” Vandy promised.
Chapter 6
Lindsay rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. She was unable to sleep. How could she? There was too much hanging in the balance. She’d called the hospital three times. Red Feather was recovering nicely, but there was no change in Matty’s condition. He was still in a coma. The doctors told her the trauma to his head caused his brain to swell. His coma was expected to last several more days . . . at least.
And if he did wake up . . . when he wakes, there could be potential brain damage. They told her to prepare for the possibility that, even if he lived through the ordeal, he may never be the same.
She thought about Jackie, how scared the little one must be right now. Jackie was shy and very wary of strangers. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now.
She thought about Rainhorse, the best friend she ever had. She was so mad at him for quitting his job at Lindhorse, taking Neha and skipping the country. He never even gave her a chance to discuss it with him. And all this before her wedding, before Jackie was born. He never even met the child she named after him.
And now he’s dead, she thought. He would never meet Jackie.
Lindsay heard her cell phone buzzing. She looked at the caller ID. It read, Sheridan Memorial Hospital.
Lindsay let out a breath and answered, “Hello.”
“Is this Ms. Lindsay Vanderbilt?” came the reply.
“Yes.”
“This is the lead nurse from Sheridan Memorial Hospital,” she continued. “I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour.”
A feeling of dread came over Lindsay, “What is it? Is it Matty?”
“Ms. Vanderbilt, I’m deeply sorry to be calling you . . .” she began.
Lindsay began to hyperventilate. No, no, please god, no, she began to pray silently.
“The doctor asked me to call you. I’m afraid there’s been a development in your husband’s condition.”
“Oh my god, what is it?”
“The doctor wants to know if you can come down here and speak to him right away.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Vanderbilt. The doctor thinks it would be better for you to come now and speak to him in person.”
Oh no, no, no.
“I’m on my way,” Lindsay said.
Lindsay literally threw on the clothes she’d worn earlier in the day and ran down the steps, taking two at a time.
“Ms. Vanderbilt?” a male voice called out. It was one of the men from her assigned FBI detail. “What are you doing?”
“The hospital called,” Lindsay replied, breathlessly. “I have to go.”
“I can’t let you leave without Special Agent Andrews’s permission,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Agent Reynolds,” Lindsay restated. “The hospital just called me. My husband’s condition has changed. They won’t tell me what’s going on over the phone, but it didn’t sound positive. If you think you’re going to stop me . . . think again.”
“Ms. Vanderbilt, we have to keep your safety as priority one.”
“My husband is priority one,” Lindsay barked. “You can either come with me or get out of my way.”
Reynolds nodded, “I understand. We’ll call Special Agent Andrews from the road.”
Lindsay hopped into the rear driver’s side seat. Reynolds drove. Another agent, Silver, sat on the passenger’s side.
Lindsay and the two agents were in the Black Suburban headed to Sheridan Memorial Hospital. Reynolds called Andrews and explained what was happening. He asked to speak to Lindsay. Reynolds handed the phone to her.
“What’s going on with your husband?” Andrews asked.
“I don’t know, Jim, but I’m scared,” she replied. “I knew something was seriously wrong the minute I saw Sheridan Memorial Hospital light up on my caller ID. This is bad, Jim, I know it.”
“Don’t worry,” Andrews assured. “My agents will use the flashing lights. They will get you there quickly.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m having four more agents meet you at the hospital . . . just in
case,” he reported.
“Thank you again.”
She hung up, and leaned over the center console, “Agent Reynolds, can’t you go faster?”
“I’m going almost eighty now,” he replied. “It’s pitch-dark and there are very few streetlights on this road. I can’t go any faster.”
“I understand,” Lindsay said.
“I’m not supposed to drive with you unsecured by a seatbelt, Ms. Vanderbilt,” Reynolds advised. “Can you please buckle up?”
“Of course, I’m sorry,” Lindsay replied, pulling the belt across her chest and locking it in place. The belt fit loosely around her petite body.
Within a second of hearing her seatbelt snapping into place, Lindsay heard a pop. It startled her. She looked up to see a small hole in the driver side window. Agent Reynolds slumped toward the center console. Blood had sprayed onto the front windshield, onto Agent Silver and onto Lindsay.
“Oh my god!” Lindsay screamed. “He’s been shot.”
“Get your head down!” Agent Silver screamed.
He tried to lean over Reynolds to grab the steering wheel, but a second bullet entered the vehicle, this time through the windshield and into Silver’s head, ending his life instantly. The bullet went cleanly through the agent’s head and lodged in the back seat right next to where Lindsay was sitting. Had she been sitting on the passenger side of the vehicle rather than behind the driver, she would be dead now. Blood spray and tiny pieces of Agent Silver’s brain and skull peppered the seat as well.
Lindsay screamed as the Suburban, still traveling over eighty miles an hour swerved hard to the right. The motion of the driverless vehicle caused it to spin out of control and into an untripped rollover, caused by steering input, speed and friction. Lindsay grabbed the doors security handle and tried to steady herself, but the force of inertia jerked her body violently as it rolled on its side in complete revolutions again and again.
A Good Samaritan Page 4
