If not for their perilous circumstances, Dana might have laughed out loud at the notion that this rent-a-cop thought he could stop Operation Anesthesia. But as Carolyn marched happily onto the bus, another thought pounded Dana between the eyes. What if he was one of them?
There was nothing she could do now. Carolyn moved to the back of the bus, energetically waving to Dana out the back window. A big smile erupted onto Carolyn’s face. She was happy to be going to school—a return to the structure children crave.
Dana held her breath, hoping it wasn’t her last image of Carolyn.
Chapter 66
Rich Kiely drove east on Lyndon. His tanned forearm was resting on the door of the convertible Camaro, as it always was, and he wore his mirrored sunglasses on this sunless day. He looked like he should be cruising down Sunset Boulevard, not a residential street in upstate New York.
Claudia was strapped into the backseat in a car seat she outgrew about a year ago. Her blonde hair was flying back in the wind like a cape. She wore a green and yellow colored Siena sweatshirt. It was by design.
Within minutes, they hit a police roadblock. As expected, suspicions were piqued by a thirty-something male transporting a young girl matching Carolyn’s description.
“Please step out of the car, sir,” a young officer said with an accusatory glare.
Rich Kiely didn’t act a bit guilty. He got out, his hands where the officer “could see them.” He was commanded to place his hands on the car, and he followed orders. They searched him, but found nothing of note.
“My name is Richard Kiely, and this is my daughter Claudia. We live in Troy. We were visiting my mother and father who live on East Lyndon Street.”
The officer reached into Rich’s pocket and removed his wallet. He handed it to another officer, while holding a gun on Rich with his other hand. This was no routine traffic stop.
The other officer trekked to his squad car, presumably to research the man who was calling himself Rich Kiely. He soon returned without a smoking gun. Or any connection to the kidnapper. The car was registered to Richard Kiely, the picture of the driver’s license matched him, and his story about living in Troy and the parents in Schenectady added up. Mainly because it was true. The truth will set you free. At least that was the plan.
After a few inquisition-type questions about the Siena sweatshirt, the young officer said, “We are sorry to bother you, Mr. Kiely. With a kidnapper on the loose, we can take no chances.”
Rich nodded pleasantly. “As you can see, I have a daughter myself, officers. Keep up the good work.”
Then Rich Kiely and Claudia drove away toward the spot Billy Harper designated they go.
Chapter 67
After the bus left, Dana and Barbara hurried back to the Kiely’s house where Ken’s Dodge Ram pickup truck was waiting for them, the engine already running. They followed Carolyn’s bus toward Elmer Avenue Elementary School at a safe distance, traveling northwest, directly opposite Rich and Claudia. They made a slight right onto Carman Road, drove less than a mile, and then took a right onto Curry Road. The bus made three stops.
Then in muddle huddle fashion, they veered away from the bus. Dana had to force herself not to take a last look at Carolyn, which took all her strength. They merged onto the highway, I-890 West, and drove for three miles before taking the Michigan Avenue exit.
At the bottom of the exit ramp was the expected flashing lights of a police blockade. Dana pulled down her baseball hat as far as she could, her stomach tumbling. She knew if Martin or the Pennington caretaker had been the one to ID them to police, then they likely mentioned the female accomplice who matched Dana’s description. But they were betting that the police were focusing on a male kidnapper and the little girl who’d been missing for three days. Time was always of the essence in these cases and the police were already playing catch-up. And it wasn’t like Carolyn could be stashed in the trunk. It was an open pickup cab. But she knew if they lost this bet, the price would be Carolyn’s life.
Like Dana, Barbara also wore a midnight blue Yankees baseball cap with a dark ponytail flowing out of the back. They could pass for mother and daughter, which was the plan.
The officer checked Barbara’s ID without a blink. Then he made her remove her hat and sunglasses. He turned to Dana, who did the same hat removal, hoping whoever ratted them out didn’t give a good description of the female accomplice. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, but she was suspicious of the way everybody looked at her right now.
“While we’re young, miss,” the officer said with his hand out.
Dana looked perplexed. “What?”
Barbara stepped in. “This is my daughter. We’re traveling to my son’s home in Troy for the evening.”
“All well and good, ma’am, but I’m going to need some ID.”
“I don’t have any ID on me,” Dana said with her most convincing look of puzzlement.
“Why would she have ID on her? She isn’t driving,” Barbara stepped in on her “daughter’s” behalf.
“I guess I could go back to your house, Mom, and get it.”
“I guess we’ll have to,” Barbara said with a frustrated moan. She pulled out her phone and began to dial. “I’ll call Rich and let him know we’ll be a little late.”
The officer’s heavy sigh indicated they were wasting his time. “Go ahead,” he said with the hint of an attitude and walked to the next car.
Barbara and Dana let out sighs of relief. They then drove to the train station, where Dana purchased three Amtrak tickets to Penn Station in New York City with her credit card.
Chapter 68
Mitchell Jones had set up shop in Schenectady, and was tightening the noose around Carolyn Whitcomb.
Not only were they chasing Carolyn, but they also had to beat the local police to her. The police and FBI had been tripping over themselves since they discovered Carolyn Whitcomb and Billy Harper didn’t die in that fire on Lake George. When the parents then turned up “missing,” they became suspicious of a possible kidnapping. Security cameras caught Harper and the girl at train stations in Schenectady and Albany last night. But it wasn’t until a cab driver reported that he thought the kidnapping suspects might be his passengers, after hearing a radio report about a kidnapped girl, that they were able to pinpoint Harper to Rockland Drive. A police dragnet was immediately coordinated in the area, making Jones’s job more challenging. But he smiled, exposing his stained teeth—he lived for a challenge.
The capture of Carolyn Whitcomb was not the job they would highlight in bold on their résumés. But what do you expect when they put Stipe in charge? Jones thought. Stipe had his day, but he never adapted—he was an arrogant dinosaur. Creatures that were strong, aggressive, and arrogant, but what did it get them? Only the fittest survive. And mental fitness was just as important as the physical, and often more vital.
The arrogance so clouded Stipe’s head that he often missed the obvious, and had done so again in this case. He was so focused on his prey—the Carolyn trophy he’d hang on his mantle—that he didn’t see the significance of their search of all the Steve Penningtons in the area. Jones knew of this search because he took the extra step to pay the whistle-blowing cabbie a visit, disguised as an FBI agent, to discuss a few loose threads. Could it be a simple coincidence that they sought out the father of Nathan Pennington, one of Operation Anesthesia’s first ever recruits? Jones knew it wasn’t. But why?
As he continued to chomp on his cigarette, it hit him. Operation Anesthesia had never found Elizabeth Pennington; she had been on Anesthesia’s Most Wanted list for over twenty years. Beth Pennington. And what was the common denominator that connected Harper to this? Harper was living with Elizabeth Whitcomb. Beth Whitcomb. He laughed out loud. They had captured her and didn’t even know it—Elizabeth Pennington was Beth Whitcomb!
His first instinct was to go to the old Pennington house on East Lyndon Street. Maybe the ghosts would talk to him. But he didn’t see anyone. The new owners seemed to be
away on vacation. He sat across the street in a Range Rover, hidden in the shadows, plotting his next move. That’s when he noticed the students boarding a school bus across the street. His eyes locked onto one of the little girls climbing aboard.
It was Carolyn Whitcomb.
His eyes then caught Dana Boulanger, who was trying to act the part of a doting mother sending her child off to school. He could’ve grabbed Dana, but he had no use for her. A better plan was to follow the school bus to its destination and secure the girl. She was the precious cargo. And when he pulled it off, there was no way they could overlook his talents again. He would be made head trainer.
Chapter 69
Ken escorted Billy back to the old Pennington house. The Kielys didn’t have a lot of friends remaining in the neighborhood, but the Garcias were a new couple they had met while they both were out power-walking last spring. They were different—younger and more adventurous than the retired Kielys, but they bonded. And the Garcia’s daughter, Estella, had become close with Claudia. They would often get together when Rich was up visiting, including a picnic last Fourth of July.
They were currently on a hiking trip in Vermont, having taken the family SUV, and leaving Frank Garcia’s motorcycle behind. Frank had left an extra house key with Ken in case there was an emergency while they were away. This would definitely qualify.
Ken punched in the electronic alarm code to deactivate, and then used his key to open the garage. Following the plan, Billy Harper, now dressed in Ken’s old leather jacket and jeans, straddled the motorcycle and fit the helmet on his head. He purred the engine, and then took off toward Elmer Avenue Elementary.
Ken waited exactly two minutes, before shutting the garage and resetting the alarm. It was show time. He picked a large rock from the garden and threw it through the Garcia’s garage window. He then reached in through the broken glass and unlatched the lock with his gloved hand. He lifted the garage door, purposely tripping the silent alarm.
Ken then dialed 911 on his cell phone. He told the operator that he was startled by a noise coming from the Garcia’s home across the street. And when he looked out his window, he witnessed a man fitting the description of wanted fugitive Billy Harper, who he’d seen on the news. He claimed he saw the man throw a rock through the garage door and then steal Frank Garcia’s motorcycle. The man fitting Harper’s description then took off with a child hanging onto the back.
Within what seemed like seconds, police piled into the Garcia’s driveway. Ken met them and retold the story he told the 911 operator. He then pointed the police in an eastbound direction, which was the opposite of where Billy went.
The police thanked Ken for his bravery in performing his civic duty, and told him they might need him at a later time to identify Billy Harper and the child after they inevitably apprehended him. They hung yellow police tape at the scene and departed.
Ken returned to an empty house, hoping he did the right thing. It was hard to imagine that a simple Friday morning walk with his wife could turn into a Robert Ludlum novel. He sat on his couch watching the news coverage. His body shook. He guessed this was how the Penningtons felt when they were forced to flee. That’s why their personality changed those last months, he knew now.
A few minutes later, an FBI agent named Hasenfus arrived at his door. He claimed to be coordinating with the local police investigation, so Ken retold the exact story he told the police. The FBI agent thanked Ken for his bravery in performing his civic duty, and headed after Billy Harper.
Chapter 70
Billy flew up Brandywine Avenue on the motorcycle. He was no Calvin Rose by any means, but he was being fueled by something stronger than adrenaline—pure panic. He swung a left at Union Avenue and then made another quick left onto Elmer Avenue.
Elmer Avenue Elementary School was a three-story, block-shaped brick building that looked like it was built prior to World War II. He wasn’t sure what a typical Friday consisted of at the school, but doubted there was normally this much hubbub. And he was sure the presence of this many uniformed security guards was due to reports of a violent kidnapper on the loose.
He maneuvered toward the school zone, where crossing guards were walking afternoon kindergartners across the street with hand-held stop signs. Most of the crossing-guards appeared to be elderly women trying to keep busy during retirement, and weren’t prepared for what was going to be the lead story on the six o’clock news.
Billy kept the visor of his helmet down as he inched closer to the school, having to hold back his overwhelming desire to rush. He waved at the white-haired crossing-guard and moved toward the front of the school, where he spotted a bus pull to a stop.
One by one the young students got off the bus, escorted by a security guard. Parents and teachers huddled near them. Talk of kidnappers had brought out all the protectors, and anxiety hung like a dark cloud over the area.
Carolyn was the eighth student off the bus. She fit in perfectly with the other students in a jolly munchkin-march to the school, tightly gripping their precious lunchboxes. Billy actually smiled at the fact she appeared to have already made friends. It was her M.O.—always full of life and infectiously transferring it to others. He also noticed a joyful hop in her step. They led her to believe she was really going to school today. It was the sense of normalcy she craved. He vowed to get her back into her own bed, with Beth tucking her in and Chuck singing to her. That would be true normalcy.
It was time to make his move. He hadn’t counted on so many people and security, but rationalized that the chaos might be a help. It didn’t matter, because it was do or die…again.
He brashly sped toward her, skidding to a sweeping stop in front of the sidewalk. “Carolyn—over here!”
Carolyn stopped in her tracks, fixated on the motorcycle. As did a whole group of teachers, parents, and security. Billy didn’t have a second to waste.
“Carolyn—get on!”
“Billy and Aunt Dana told me to go to school. I’m not falling for that one again,” she replied.
Billy didn’t want to take the helmet off and ID himself, but she left him no choice. Her lack of gullibility would normally protect her from a kidnapping situation, but it was working against her here. Billy felt the adults closing in.
He lifted off the helmet.
Carolyn’s face lit up. “Billy, you got a motorcycle!”
“C’mon, get on!”
She appeared to think about it for a moment, and then responded, “No, I think I’d rather go to school.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” he mumbled to himself. “Carolyn, get on now!”
“I wanna play with my new friends, Billy.”
The mention of Billy’s name triggered everyone. The kidnapper. Armed and dangerous. The motorcycle made him appear even more devious and ready for flight. Mothers were grabbing their children; a security guard had pulled a gun.
“Carolyn, please come,” he pleaded.
“You said I could go to school.”
“Can’t a boy change his mind?” he attempted humor.
“I wanna go to school,” she implored. She was desperate to get back to normalcy. Her emotions were unraveling.
“Hold it right there!” the security guard yelled.
A mother screamed.
A teacher ran toward Carolyn in an attempt to “save her” from the kidnapper. Another screamed. Chaos reigned.
Carolyn blew a circuit. She turned into a frozen statue, her lunchbox helplessly falling to the ground.
“Carolyn!” Billy shouted again.
She didn’t even hear him. The noose was tightening around her. Her eyes welled and tears fell down her cheeks. But she didn’t move.
Billy surveyed his limited options, understanding he might have to shoot his way out of this one. He felt for the gun in the pocket of the leather jacket—the same one Dana had pulled on him. He put the kickstand down on the bike, got off, and headed for the frozen little girl. Stick together, remember?
Tha
t’s when he saw a bigger problem than the security guard, or the sound of police sirens closing in. Billy recognized the shadowy figure moving toward Carolyn, and his stomach sank.
Carolyn also noticed him, jarring her out of her trance. She turned toward the man and let out a primal shout. Billy couldn’t believe it came out of such a little girl.
“Osama Banana! Osama Banana! Do something!”
The security guard’s focus shifted away from Billy—the kidnapper—and aimed his gun toward the bearded man who was lying in wait. For a moment, it was as if the guard really believed the world’s most notorious terrorist left his cave in East Nowhere and popped up in Schenectady.
More screams from mothers. More chaos. Carolyn yelled again, “Osama Banana! Get him!”
With all eyes on the crazed gunman, Billy took advantage. He ran to Carolyn and grabbed her. He placed her on the motorcycle and was about to get on behind her and speed away, when his heart sank again. He watched Osama Banana shoot the security guard in cold blood. Carolyn put her hands over her ringing ears. And now the gun was pointed right at Billy.
He had no choice—kill or be killed. He pulled out his gun and thought back to Chuck’s hunting lesson. Lean forward, stabilize, anticipate movement, deep breath, put finger on trigger.
He fired. And the world momentarily froze.
Once again he proved to be no Annie Oakley. He wasn’t sure if he even came close to Banana. He doubted he was even in the vicinity, and counted his blessings that he didn’t hit a child. But it did buy him a few precious seconds. His brazenness surprised Banana, who momentarily ducked for cover. And by the time he refocused his weapon, Billy and Carolyn were speeding down Elmer Avenue.
Billy held Carolyn tightly in his lap. She was still shaken. Not even a motorcycle ride could snap her out of it. He had memorized the directions to the train station. A right onto Eastern Avenue, another right at Morris, then a left onto Union, and finally a left onto Erie Blvd. It was only a mile and a half from the school, but it seemed like they were traveling in molasses. But he kept his eyes on the prize—and followed his own rule—never look in the rear-view mirror.
Painless Page 28
