by Diane Capri
When Cade released me, I resisted the temptation of asking the question, and instead waited for him to speak.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I was going to call you, but—”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with me right now.”
“My dad, he’s not making any sense. One minute he’s talking to me about things that happened when he was a child, and he has a perfect recollection of past events. The next minute, he looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am. He called me Joey. I don’t even know a Joey. None of us does. I knew it was going to get bad and, they’d prepped us for it, but I never expected this.”
He was still alive.
I knew it would be hard for me to look Cade in the eye; it always was in a situation like this, but I had to. His eyes were pale and wet, but I knew he wouldn’t cry. He was strong—too strong to let his emotions show right now. They would come later, when the dam finally broke, allowing his pent-up feelings to come flowing out.
“How long has it been since your father has eaten anything?” I said. “He looked so thin when I stopped by last.”
“Two—three days. I’m not sure. He lost his appetite. My mom’s tried everything; he’s not interested.”
“Maybe eating makes him feel sick,” I said.
Cade’s mother stepped into the parking lot and looked at him. “He’s asking for you,” she said.
“I’d better go,” I said, “but you can call me anytime you need to. I mean it.”
Cade’s mom shook her head. “Please don’t go. He wants to speak to you both—together.”
I didn’t think it was for the best, but there was no way I could turn her down, or him. We walked together to his room, my apprehension growing with every step. I’d never cared much for hospitals, but then, who did?
Detective McCoy mustered a smile when we walked in. He looked pleased to see both of us. I hoped the conversation we were about to have was one of his more coherent ones.
“Come in, come in,” he said, motioning both of us over to the bed.
We did what he asked, standing next to the bed, and awaiting his next statement.
“Chief Rollins tells me they found the people who took Savannah,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong.
“And Olivia, the other missing girl from Sublette County. Neither one of the children were there when the feds searched the house, but they found photographic evidence that both girls had been living there, among other things.”
Cade and I looked at each other. I tried to act surprised.
“The chief said they lifted a lot of usable prints which he’s running now.”
“I thought the feds didn’t want us involved?” Cade said.
“We’re not. But they don’t mind sharing a few bread crumbs with Rollins.” Detective McCoy looked at me. “Cade shared some other things with me earlier today.”
Cade and I exchanged looks.
Detective McCoy took my hand in his, grabbing Cade’s with the other. He put them together, mine on the bottom, Cade’s on top. For a moment it didn’t feel like I was standing in front of a hospital bed. It felt like I was in a church awaiting the marriage ceremony to begin.
“What’s this about, Dad?” Cade said.
“It’s about the two of you seein’ this through,” Detective McCoy said. “I’m too weak to continue on, not that the feds would have let me anyway. But, if it wasn’t for my illness, I would have found a way. It’s up to the two of you now. Don’t let that man kill those girls. Once you figure out who he is, you find them.”
“We’ll do everything we can,” I said.
Detective McCoy looked at me and then at Cade. “Promise me. Both of you. No matter what happens to me, you’re first priority is Savannah and Olivia.”
Cade squeezed my hand, looked at his father, and said, “We promise.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Although Detective McCoy wanted us to stay focused on the girls, I knew Cade wasn’t up to it, no matter what he said to the contrary. We finished talking to Detective McCoy, and Cade walked me to my car. He said he’d been sent over a list of names of inmates who had been released within the past five years, all with the same tattoo. He even had photos. Excellent. I convinced him to give me the list. He was reluctant, but he wasn’t ready to leave his father.
I sat at the small table in my hotel room looking over the list of names in front of me. It was long. I had no idea the clock tattoo was so popular, but with two million inmates in prison across the United States, it was no wonder there were so many.
I’d taken a class once on prison methods and had learned a few things about prison tattoos. For one, it was illegal, but that didn’t stop inmates from doing it anyway. Men who entered prison having prior tattoos were much more likely to get another one while incarcerated than their non-tattooed counterparts, even though there were risks involved. Non-sterile methods were used, such as using paper clips as applicators and soot mixed with shampoo for the ink. This often caused deadly diseases such as hepatitis and HIV/AIDS.
I looked over my stacked sheets of hay, feeling less than confident that I’d be able to find the needle among them. People in the business of stealing children weren’t easily traced due to the fact they rarely owned anything. They lived like transients, driving from place to place, staying in hotel rooms under assumed names, paying cash for whatever they needed. And only one thing mattered to a person like that: his next payday.
I stood up, leaving the list of names on the table. I wanted to grab the papers and hurl them across the room. I hated to admit it, but I actually hoped the feds would find something Cade and I had missed when they searched the house—anything to bring Olivia and Savannah home.
Think, Sloane, think.
I returned to the table, remembering I had a connection to the kidnapper. Now I just needed to use it.
“Jenny, I need a favor,” I said.
She yawned into the phone. “What, umm, time is it?”
“It’s late. Please, I don’t have much time.”
“Sure, yeah. What do you need?”
“I need you to talk to Todd.”
“What—why? I haven’t spoken to him in—”
“I know,” I said, “but this is important.”
“What is it?”
“I am sending several photos to your phone. I need you to show them to Todd. Ask him if he recognizes any of the men from the night Olivia was abducted.”
“Why don’t you just call him yourself?” she said. “I have his number.”
“After what I put him through, I’m not sure he’ll agree to speak to me, but I’m willing to bet he’ll talk to you.”
“Got it. I’m on my way.”
I paced the floor for the next hour, going over all the photos I’d sent Jenny, cross-checking them with the photos I hadn’t sent. I wanted to be sure I hadn’t missed any possibilities. Narrowing the list by age and height alone left a couple dozen possibilities. I then cut it down even more by the crimes they’d committed to put them in prison in the first place. I just hoped one of them was our man.
I was about to try Jenny’s phone when my own rang.
“Jenny?” I said.
“It’s Todd.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested in talking to me or I would have called you myself.”
“I’m not.”
“Did you look at the pictures I sent?” I said.
“Yep.”
“Did you recognize anyone?”
“Yep.”
A wave of excitement rushed through me. I just hoped he was right.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“Yep.”
“How do you know?”
“The guy was wearing glasses, so I covered the top half of their faces. His chin—there was something about it. I tried explaining it to the sketch artist, and I couldn’t get it right.”
“But you saw it in one of the photos?” I said.
“Th
e third one—it’s him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Cade came by the next morning.
“I was going to call you a few hours ago,” I said. “But I figured you were asleep, so I decided to wait.”
“You were awake—why?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. How’s your dad?”
“They won’t release him yet, but the nurse said he’s awake and talking to everyone. I hope it’s a good sign.”
“Me too,” I said.
“What did you make of the names I gave you?”
I grabbed a paper from the table and handed it to him.
He scanned it, muttering the contents of the rap sheet to himself. When he finished, he said, “Eddie Fletcher. How do you know this is the guy?”
I told him about my conversation with Todd the previous night.
“Anything new on your end?” I said.
“Chief Rollins called me this morning. The coroner looked over both bodies. He concluded the time of death was between ten and midnight the night before we showed up. The coroner said the same thing I did—the Kents were sleeping at the time of death. So far no prints have been found that can’t be accounted for.”
I was relieved for us, but not for the killer.
Cade mentioned a few more details from the ME’s report, but nothing I considered alarming.
“The question is: where do we go from—”
I was interrupted by the sound of Cade’s phone. He grabbed it out of his pocket so fast, he almost dropped it. I imagined he was waiting for an update on his dad, but it wasn’t the hospital or his mother on the other end of the line. It was the sound of someone saying Cade’s name. He flipped over a piece of paper on the desk, and wrote one word on it: EDDIE.
I assumed Cade recognized his voice from their previous conversation. I moved closer.
“Cade McCoy?” Eddie said, again.
“Who’s this?”
“Find a pen and paper. You have five seconds.”
Cade sat down at the desk and flipped the phone on its side so I could hear the conversation.
“Do you have it yet?” Eddie said.
“Yes.”
“Good. Don’t talk, just listen.”
Neither of us moved.
“Are you listening?” Eddie said.
“You said no talking,” Cade said.
“At seven o’clock tonight, you will bring two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash to a shack at the end of Swanee Bridge Road.”
“How do you expect me to come up with the money in such a short—”
“Not my problem,” Eddie said. “And you’re not talking, remember?”
Cade stayed quiet.
“You’ll get to the location using my directions. Head North on Tucker Road heading out of town. Drive twelve miles. When you get to Falcon Drive, turn right. The next road you come to will be Swanee Bridge. The place you are looking for is at the end of the road. It’s old and run down. You won’t have trouble finding it.”
Cade and I exchanged glances, but neither of us dared say anything. Eddie continued.
“Listen to this next part carefully. You will not involve the media, the police, the FBI, or anyone else. This is between us. If I see anyone come in with you, the girls die. If you don’t bring the money, the girls die.”
Eddie paused, then continued.
“The money will not have any consecutive numbers. The money bag will not contain an explosive dye. There will be no new bills, no marked bills, and no tracking devices of any kind, either in the money bag or in your vehicle. Do you understand?”
Cade looked at me like he wasn’t sure whether to speak or not.
“Yes or no?” Eddie said.
“Yes—now can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Where will the children be?” Cade said.
“When you get to the shack, go up the steps to the porch and stick the money through the window. It will be open. Then walk back to your car. Wait ten minutes and then enter the house. The girls will be waiting inside. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be watching your every move. Their life is in your hands, Mr. McCoy.”
“I want proof,” Cade said.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not bringin’ the money unless I know the girls are still alive. Put one of them on the phone.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Then forget it.”
Cade hung up.
“What are you doing?!” I yelled, reaching for the phone.
“Give it a minute—he’ll call back. He wants the money, trust me.”
I wasn’t so sure. We waited two minutes, and then five. No phone call. I drank an entire glass of water, rinsed dishes, and tried to keep my mouth shut. It wasn’t easy. I was losing my mind, and in another minute, I’d be losing it on him.
And then the phone rang.
“Told you,” Cade said, reaching for his phone.
He answered it and pressed the speaker button.
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
There it was. A beautiful, young female voice.
“Who’s this?” Cade said.
“Makayla. I mean Olivia.”
“Are you okay?” Cade said.
“I don’t know, I guess so. Who are you?”
“Someone who has been tryin’ to find you and Savannah,” Cade said. “Is she with you now?”
“Yes.”
There was a sound like the phone was exchanging hands. “All right, you talked to her. We have a deal. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
The phone clicked.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said.
But Cade didn’t hear me. He sat down, drumming his fingers on the table in front of him.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“I’m just tryin’ to decide the best way to work this out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to make sure I handle this right. Two hundred and fifty thousand is a lot of cash to come up with in a short amount of time.”
“We will think of something,” I said.
He still wasn’t listening.
“I just hope they’ll go for it without hearing the conversation.”
“Who?” I said.
“The FBI.”
“This Fletcher guy said not to involve them,” I said. “It’s too big of a risk, Cade. You can’t.”
“He doesn’t care if I use them to get the money.”
I shook my head.
“If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have told you to leave them out of it,” I said.
“He just wants to make sure I drive out there alone, and I will.”
“They’ll never let you,” I said. “There’s no way they’ll hand over the money and allow you to make the rules. That’s not how they do things.”
Cade shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter…they’ll have to. It’s my way or it’s no way at all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cade left without me convinced that letting the feds in on the situation was the best solution. He was sure they would understand once he explained everything. Cade’s version of “everything” would be telling them that the kidnapper knew who he was because he’d been working the case for the past several weeks…and that he was the only one who could do the drop off because the guy knew what he looked like. Cade had a way with words, but I wasn’t convinced it would work this time.
Cade expected me to stay put. He thought it was safer for the girls if I didn’t get involved, but taking orders had never been my strong suit. The kidnapper expected Cade at a certain time. He knew it would take him several hours to get his hands on the kind of cash he requested. He didn’t seem to know about me or my involvement in the case, and I wanted it to stay that way.
As soon as Cade left, I searched the Internet for Swanee Bridge Road. The map I fo
und was a little less detailed than I’d hoped for, but it pointed me in a general direction. I scribbled down the directions on a piece of paper, grabbed my keys and my gun, and left. I drove until I reached a point where my cell reception started fading and gave Cade a quick call to check in.
“What a nightmare,” he said when he answered the phone.
“They aren’t letting you go alone, are they?” I said.
“Not a chance. They even told me I couldn’t go. Can you believe it? They were going to send one of their guys in my place and leave me out of it all together.”
“What did you say?” I said.
“I told them the kidnapper was calling me at seven o’clock and that if someone else answered, he’d know it wasn’t me. I also told them he knew what I looked like.”
“Nice job, liar,” I said. “Did they buy it?”
“I think so. They’re off in another room discussin’ it now. Where are you?”
“I stopped at the store for a couple things, grabbed a bite to eat.”
“If they let me go, and I think they will, I probably won’t be able to call you again until it’s all over,” he said. “They’ve been following me around ever since I got here.”
Perfect.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” I said. “Good luck.”
Thankfully Cade was too preoccupied with the feds and all their minions to consider it odd that I’d so easily backed off, allowing him to see it through to the end on his own. I passed Falcon, opting for an alternative side road to turn on instead of the street the kidnapper suggested. According to the map the next road circled back at some point, leading me to the same place. I had to assume Eddie might already be there waiting. An alternate route was my best chance to go unnoticed.
The area around me looked like some kind of national forest. Several roads had no signage of any kind. Luckily, Falcon was marked with a wooden stake, its letters painted yellow. I passed it and took the next left, picking a cluster of trees and hiding my car behind them. I’d walk the rest of the way.
It took over an hour, but I finally reached the end of Swanee Bridge Road. The shack looked more like a one-hundred-year-old pile of abandoned wood. As for the window the kidnapper said he’d leave open—it was open all right—it was broken, shattered completely.
