Avarice or Innocence (JOHN LOGAN FILES Book 1)
Page 8
Ashton let them go. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. This was going terribly wrong and he didn’t know what to do about it. The two detectives had to fight off the swarming reporters and their thousand and one questions.
It took them several minutes to even reach the car and even longer to get them to move out of the way so they could drive off. Reporters.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jim took a short but fitful nap. When he woke up he looked at his watch. It was just past noon. He looked out the window and saw reporters sitting around on his lawn eating fast food. Papers were blowing all over the place. He decided he had to do something.
He washed his face and straightened up his clothes before going to the door. He felt like a man on the way to the gas chamber. ‘Hey,’ he thought, ‘that’s not funny’. He opened the door and immediately the locusts descended upon him as if he were grain.
They all started yelling out questions but he didn’t speak. He just held up both of his hands, waiting. It took several minutes before it finally dawned on them that he was not going to say anything until they were quiet.
Finally they subsided enough for him to speak, “Ladies and gentlemen. I am going to make a statement and then I will answer a few questions until you start repeating yourselves. I will not compete with you. I will answer only one question at a time. If you don’t like it, I would be more than happy to go back inside and close the door. Is everyone clear on this?” he said looking at the crowd.
Several yelled out questions immediately and he just stood there looking at them for a minute before tuning and going back inside. A huge cry went up as he shut the door. He let them wait for a good three minutes before he stepped back outside.
It was like the Red Sea crashing down on the Pharaoh's army as they rushed to get in front of him again. He waited. They fussed. He waited longer. Finally they all quieted down.
“I am not kidding. I will not be treated like some half-baked celebrity. I have something to say and then I will respond to your questions. I warn you, you start trying to overwhelm me and I will not talk to any of you again. Got it?” he said.
A grumble went through the crowd of reporters.
“First, I do not know what happened to my wife. I can only assume the worst for now. I have had hope that she would contact me but I have to say that that belief is now fading. I did call and talk to Carla Larkins after I discovered Stephanie was missing. She did not know anything about Stephanie’s whereabouts. That was the last time I spoke to her. I have not seen or talked to her since. I cannot speculate on how the calls appear to have been placed from my residence. All I know is that I did not make them,” he said, pausing for a second, “As you know, they recovered my wife’s car from the Holcomb Bridge boat ramp but nothing of any significance has turned up that I am aware of. To my knowledge she has not been located and the police are continuing to investigate. I did not have anything to do with either my partner’s wife’s disappearance or Stephanie’s. I have not been accused or charged with any crime. The police have been here to confirm certain details but that is the extent of the visits to date. I do not know if they have a suspect at this time.” He waited for them to catch up before he continued. “I am just as much a victim as my friend and partner, Terry Larkins. We have known each other since college. We are both distraught by the incidents that have taken place and both of us pray for our wives' safe return. If anyone can help with this case, I beg them to come forward and tell us what they know. I don't want revenge; I just want my wife returned safe and sound. I am asking for your help. Now I will take your questions as long as it remains orderly,” he said.
Immediately a voice shouted, “What did the police detectives that just left have in the bag?”
“They recovered a couple of items and were trying to determine the owner,” he told them.
“What items? Who did they belong to?”
“There was a coat that I could not identify and a pair of tennis shoes. Those were recovered from the trunk of my wife’s car. They were mine. I had left them in there from the last time we played racquetball together.”
“Who did the coat belong to?”
“I can’t tell you because I did not recognize it. The origin is unknown to me,” Ashton said.
“Can you speculate on the phone calls that ‘appear to be from your house’, as you put it?”
“No, I cannot. I did not make them.”
“Who did?”
“You tell me,” he shot back.
“Maybe you did,” came the reply.
Jim ignored the remark.
“Why did you wait so long to report her missing?” a television woman asked.
“I reported it as soon as I realized she had not come home. When I woke up at 4:30 a.m.”
“But you knew she was not home when you went to bed. Most husbands would have waited up to see that their wife is safely home.”
“I can’t speak for others' husbands. Are you married?”
“Well...yes, but that’s not the point,” she said quickly.
“Does your husband wait up when you are late getting home?”
“Usually,” she said.
“But not always, correct? He gets tired just like I did, right? I got tired and drifted off to sleep. I’m not sure of the penalty for that,” he quipped.
“A missing wife,” someone shot back.
“Yes. You’re right, and you are right too,” he said addressing the television woman, “I should have waited up. I have beat myself up over that for the past three days. I did not do my job,” he said, sadly.
No one spoke for a second then a reporter asked, “What about your partner? We understand he is blaming you for the disappearance of his wife.”
“I don’t know what Terry really thinks. He is upset. His wife is missing just like mine. What would be my motive for getting rid of both women? I love Terry and Carla as if they were family. I would never do anything to hurt them.”
“You might if your wife found out you were having an affair and it got out of hand. Maybe you had to get rid of both of them to cover your tracks,” the reporter said.
“I can’t stop you from believing what you want to believe. I have been advised that you will say, or print, whatever you think your public wants to hear. I can do nothing about that. All I can do is wait for future developments or the safe return of my wife.”
“And Larkins' wife too, don’t you mean?”
“Of course,” he replied.
They asked several more questions before they started to repeat the same question over and over, just in different terms. He assumed they were either brain dead or trying to trap him. Probably a little of both he concluded after one really stupid question.
“Last question,” he told them.
“What do you intend to do now?”
“Go to work tomorrow. Wait for further developments. Pray for Terry’s and my wife’s safe return. Keep you informed of any developments that may shed a light on this situation,” he said.
There was a stunned look on most of their faces.
“You’ll hold additional conferences?”
“I have nothing to hide and everything to gain by getting this over with as soon as possible,” he said and quickly turned and went inside, closing the door behind him.
No one even shouted out a question. The two detectives watched his performance on the news while going over notes again.
“Well our Mr. Ashton is either very, very smart or one poor dumb slob,” Winston said.
“I think he was trying to get them on his side. Keep them off balance. I loved his wording on the jacket. ‘The coat I couldn’t identify.’ Very smooth,” Logan said, throwing his note pad on the desk.
“Yeah, he seemed a lot less rattled than when we talked to him.”
“Maybe the guy is just good at conning people,” Logan replied.
****
Ashton finally went to bed at 11:30 p.m. The early and late news had not been as b
ad as he had prepared himself for. They left enough unanswered questions to point a finger at him if they were so inclined but nothing he couldn’t live with.
It had been a long and draining day. It seemed like hours before he fell asleep. He was having a strange dream when suddenly he was jerked up by his tee shirt front, ripping it at the neck.
He struggled to focus his eyes but a gun was shoved in his face and a surrealistic voice said, “Don’t even flinch. If you move a hair I will splatter your brains all over the wall. You just sit there and listen.”
To emphasize the point, the figure shoved the gun against his forehead.
The strange sounding voice said, “We have your wife. She is under our control. You have exactly ten days to deliver ten million dollars. Any attempt to stall, any attempt to locate us, any attempt to pull a fast one and you will get your wife back in small pieces. Don’t say a thing. We don’t want to hear any excuses. Ten days. We will contact you.”
The gun was removed from his head and a tall shadow moved across the room.
“What about my wife? Is she all right? Is Carla with her?” he said to the swiftly retreating figure.
He could make out virtually nothing except that the figure was tall and moving quickly. Just as suddenly as it had started, he was alone, sitting in the middle of the bed, dripping wet with sweat.
He shook his head. Had this been real? Was he having a terrible dream? He felt his shirt and the torn collar. It was real all right. Someone had taken Stephanie. He jumped up and found his phone and called the number on Detective Logan’s card that he had left with him earlier. It was 2:45 a.m. when an officer answered the phone.
“Detective Logan, please,” he said.
“Detective Logan has gone for the night. He will be in at....just a second....8:00 a.m.,” the man said.
“I need to get in touch with him right away. Someone just broke into my house. I must talk to him,” Ashton insisted.
“Sorry. If someone just broke in we will send a car right out. What is your name and address?”
Ashton slammed down the receiver. He walked around the room trying to think of the best thing to do. Finally he dialed Terry’s number. The answering machine clicked on after the third ring and went through its message.
As soon as it beeped Ashton said, “Terry. It’s me Jim. Pick up the phone. Please Terry. I have news about Stephanie. Please, if you can hear me, answer. He waited a few seconds and glanced at his watch. It was almost 3:00 a.m. Terry was probably asleep. He slept like a log, almost impossible to wake. Ashton had witnessed that far too many times in college and on business trips.
He then called Terry’s cell phone but was sent to voicemail.
“Terry. It’s about 3:00 a.m. When you check your messages call me right away. I have news about Stephanie. It’s urgent,” he said and hung up the phone.
Now what was he going to do? The phone ringing startled him. He jumped and grabbed it.
“Jim? A sleepy voice said.
“Terry. Thank God I reached you. Listen the strangest thing just happened a few minutes ago. Someone broke into my house and put a gun to my head. He told me they have Stephanie. He said they wanted ten million dollars within the next ten days. I’m still shaking,” he told Terry.
“Someone broke into your house had you at gun point and said they had kidnapped Stephanie?”
“I know. It’s unreal. I tried to get ahold of Detective Logan but he won’t be in until tomorrow morning. I don’t know what to do,” he said.
“Did they tell you not to call the police?”
“No. Isn’t that strange? It seems like the first thing they always do in the movies,” Jim said.
“This isn’t the movies. Did you touch anything?” Terry asked.
“Ah. Well, not much, I don’t think. I checked the doors to make sure they were locked. The patio door off the sun room was open.”
“Don’t touch anything else. Call 911 and report the break in. Let them roust Logan out of bed. Once he finds out about the break-in he will get there fast,” Terry advised.
“All right. I’ll call right now. I just wanted you to know as soon as I found out,” Jim said.
“What? That your wife is now some maniac’s prisoner? Great. Now call the police,” he said.
Ashton hung up and reported the break-in. After a few questions they told him a car had been dispatched and was in progress. It was only a few minutes before they arrived. Almost immediately behind the police car a news van was following. The officers came to the door with their hands on their sidearms.
“Mr. Ashton? You reported a break-in?” the Officer asked, looking quickly about.
“Yes. A few minutes ago someone broke in, placed a gun to my head and told me that they had my wife. He demanded ten million dollars in ten days or they would kill her,” he blurted out.
“Whoa. Hold it. A man broke into your house, held a gun on you and said he had your wife?” the officer asked.
“He is the one Logan is checking out about the two missing women,” the other officer said.
“When did this happen?” the first officer asked.
“About twenty minutes ago now. I called the police station first but they wouldn’t put me in touch with Detective Logan. I called my partner, Terry, and told him about what just happened. He said I should call 911.”
“Why didn’t you do that first? I mean it seems logical to me that you would call 911 before anyone else,” the policeman asked.
“I was shook. I thought of Detective Logan. When that didn’t work I wasn’t sure what to do. The last time I called 911 they told me to call the other number,” he said getting exasperated.
“I see. So then you called 911, after talking to your partner, is that right?”
“Yes. I checked the doors to see how he got in and found the patio door open. I’m sure I checked it before I went to bed,” he said leading them to the door.
“It’s closed now,” the officer said.
“Yeah. I closed it. I didn’t want him to come back in that way,” he said.
The officer just looked at him for a few seconds and then went over to his partner. They talked for several minutes. They looked in his direction several times and one of them laughed.
Jim knew they were thinking he was a bozo but he wondered how they would react if someone woke them in the middle of the night and shoved a gun in their face.
“My partner has called Detective Logan. He is on his way in. Why don’t we sit down and you tell me as clearly as possible the sequence of events. Leave nothing out.
Everything is important. For instance you said ‘he shoved a gun in your face’. Does that mean you saw a man for certain? Or just a person?”
Ashton sat down at the table and collected his thoughts. He went through the entire chain of events, describing the ‘person’ as much as he could. He told them about the strangeness of the voice and how quickly he moved. He showed him everything that he could remember touching. A team of investigators arrived and they started dusting for prints. They lifted a few in different spots for later comparison.
Logan arrived just as they were finishing up. The two officers talked to him at great length but Ashton couldn’t hear what was being said. They did glance at him from time to time. Finally Logan came over to Jim.
“You are leading quite the charmed life,” he said.
Ashton shook his head from side to side, “Actually it's quite frightening how rapidly it is all deteriorating around me.”
“You told the officers the man demanded a ransom for your wife. Ten million. Do you have that kind of money?”
“No way. I can’t even come close. I can get maybe a hundred thousand if I hock everything. DigitCom is up to its neck in short term liabilities,” Jim said.
“Did he mention Larkins' wife?” the detective asked.
“No. He just said that they had my wife and they wanted ten million in ten days. He didn’t tell me not to call the police or anything.”
“Yes. Totally shocked. Apprehensive may be a better word.”
“So, this guy breaks in while you are sleeping and pulls a gun and gives you the message. He splits and you start calling the cops. He didn’t tell you not to. Why do you suppose that is Mr. Ashton?”
Ashton dropped his arms and let his head fall back on the cushion, “I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this. Look at my shirt. It’s torn. Do you think I am making this all up?” he pleaded.
“I guess I don’t know what to think. If this is some kind of game, I haven’t figured out the rules yet. You seem to have done some fairly stupid things for a man who appears to be rather intelligent,” Logan said, standing.
“Now what?”
“You said he had made a ransom demand. That turns this into a Federal case and it will be put in their jurisdiction. We are, according to you, no longer dealing with a missing person, but a kidnapping victim,” he told Ashton.
“Great. Another shuffle. I’ll have to go over the same story a dozen more times I suppose.”
“A dozen, only if you’re lucky. I’ll be around Ashton. I’ll keep tabs on what’s going on. I think if I were you I would volunteer to take a stress analysis test,” Logan suggested.
“Lie detector test? Is that it? Everyone thinks I’m lying?”
“Let’s just say it couldn’t hurt your credibility any at this point,” Logan said heading for the door.
“What is going on around here,” he suddenly shouted.
“Mr. Ashton. That is exactly what we want to know,” Logan said as he closed the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Who is there?”
“Who are you?”
“Stephanie? Is that you?”
“How do you know? Who are you?”