Sally gave her mother’s hand a little squeeze. “That’s wonderful, Mother. Tell me the rest.”
Ferrell’s face seemed to jerk into a different place, “What rest? I get rest—too much rest. I hate rest.”
“Not that rest. I mean the rest of the story. Tell me the rest of the story about my birth. You know, the people around you, the doctors, nurses, visitors. They must have loved the baby, too.” Sally hoped to find out who came to see her. Maybe it was her father.
Ferrell’s face clouded. “Visitors … bah!” She almost spat. “It was goo-goo this, and ga-ga that. I despised them.”
“Despised who? How could you hate them? Didn’t they love the baby too?”
Ferrell looked away. “They wanted to take my baby.”
“You must be mistaken, Mother.”
“But, I fooled them. I took my baby. She would never be theirs. I took her home. I named her Sally Miller. They would never find me.” She laughed, “Ha-ha, that evil man tried to get you away, but I hid. I ran and hid.”
“Where, Mother? Where did we hide?”
“Why, right here, Sally, here in Vancouver. Don’t you know where we are?”
“Yes, Mom, we’re right here in Vancouver. But, we have moved so many times, I forget. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Right here in Vancouver,” Ferrell repeated as if to assure herself.
“Mommy, next year for my birthday, can we please take a trip?” Sally pretended to be Ferrell’s young daughter.
“Maybe, we’ll see.”
“I’d like to go back to the place where I was born, back to Portland, Oregon.”
“No, no, never back there.” Ferrell shook her head vigorously. “Not Portland.”
“Is Oregon dangerous, Mommy?”
“Very dangerous. We can never go back.”
“Would the bad man come after me?”
Ferrell nodded her head, “He would never quit. That awful man tried to take you away. He chased us.”
“Okay, Mommy, we don’t have to go there. I’m sorry I asked.” Sally patted her hand to calm her down.
Ferrell sighed, and half-smiled at Sally.
Sally took a chance, “I understand, now, why you had to change my name from Miller to Millecan. That was to keep me safe, wasn’t it?”
Ferrell nodded.
“You had to keep me safe from the man who wanted to take me, didn’t you?”
“He would have come. He would have found us.”
“You named me Sally Miller. What was my name going to be if you hadn’t kept me?”
Ferrell tried to curl up in a fetal position. “I don’t … Noooo,” she cried, shaking her head wildly.
Sally rubbed her mother’s arm, “But, once we were over into Canada, we were safe. You took care of us. We were mostly safe.”
Ferrell relaxed a bit.
Sally continued, “But, you had to always be careful, to make sure he didn’t find us. That is why you had to change our name again, and we had to move—so he would never find us. You did the right thing.”
“He never found us,” said Ferrell, calmer now. “Never found us … He’ll never find us. I’ll keep you safe.”
Sally waited
All at once, Ferrell clenched her hands and pursed her lips. She shook her head slightly and looked away. Transformed, her face clouded over. She glared back at Sally as if she was a stranger. “Who are you? Get away from me.” She pushed on Sally. “Leave me alone with my baby. Go away!”
Sally stood and started to back away.
“Get out, you thief!” Ferrell shouted.
“Mother, it’s me, Sally, your daughter.”
Ferrell started screaming, “Help! Help me!” A nurse rushed into the room. She took hold of Ferrell’s arm. “Shh, you’re okay. Quiet down, Ferrell. You’re safe now.” Ferrell broke into sobs. Sally looked on in horror.
The nurse motioned for Sally to leave the room. “She’ll be all right in a few minutes. She has these episodes sometimes. She believes someone is here to steal her baby,” the nurse said sadly. “Perhaps you should go, now.”
Sally paused. She brushed away a tear. “Goodbye, Mother,” she said softly. “Happy birthday.” She picked up her bag and tiptoed out.
Nate -THE SEARCH –
Dorothy May Mercer
Chapter 10 Chicago
Lab Report
N ate would be staying over in Chicago for a day or two, maybe longer. He hated to be away from home this long, missing out on the visit with Rob who would be leaving for Italy soon. But, that made it less lonely for Nan, now that she had both kids home. Nate was happy that Rob was taking an interest in watching over his sister. The next couple of years in Joy’s life would be perilous in terms of male relationships, while she was learning the ropes. She needed her dad, even though she was fighting for her independence at the same time. Is that what was meant by the phrase “Sixteen, going on thirty?” Nate grinned to himself.
Oh well, it was time to get up and get going.
Nate went through his morning shave, shower and dressing for the day with his usual efficiency. He had to go in to headquarters this morning to meet with Cliff Side. That wasn’t his name. Darn it! Nate had been trying to think of Cliff’s real last name for hours. It had been looping around in his brain just out of reach.
The local cops had done a great job of processing the two crime scenes, lifting prints and DNA and cataloging hundreds of clues. Already they had matched the two murders as having been committed by the same person. The third victim, the manager, was still in intensive care. Cliff and Nate hoped to interview him today.
So far, the police had been unable to find the murder suspect, nor did they have any theory as to motive. This was where the feds came in. Nate and Cliff had a theory of motive, which they had not shared with the police.
Cliff and Nate
“Come in,” said Cliff. “Grab a seat. I see you got your coffee. Good.”
“Good morning,” said Nate. He pulled out a chair from a conference table and sat down.
Cliff gestured at the papers spread out on the table. “We’ve got the lab reports back on the novel and the switchblade.” He handed Nate a one-page printout. “It runs to several pages, but this is a condensed version. Take a gander.”
Nate picked up the paper and began reading. “Mmm,” he muttered from time to time, nodding his head occasionally. At length he looked up. “Well, what do you know? Seems our little Georgie-Porgie has been a busy boy.”
“Yeah,” said Cliff, “fooling around with chemical agents and bomb making materials.”
“Somehow, I don’t think he was planning on taking down that airliner with a six-inch switchblade,” said Nate.
“So, maybe this was just another trial run.”
“Testing to see just how much he could get away with.”
“There’s the motive.”
“Motive for that trip, but it doesn’t explain the murders.” Nate thought for a moment. “Try this on for size,” he said. “Suppose Georgie had an accomplice?”
“No doubt he did and still does, more than one.”
“I mean an accomplice on the plane.”
“Possible,” Cliff agreed.
“This accomplice saw me, more or less, pat George down for weapons and then lift the knife out of his pocket.”
“Seeing this, his conclusion would be?”
“Bingo. Federal Air Marshal.”
Cliff snapped his fingers and pointed at Nate. “Way to go, Sherlock. And then, guess what happens when he walks off the plane. He sees us pick up George and hustle him off.”
“He puts two and two together and realizes I put the finger on George.”
“He must have waited around until you got off the plane,” said Cliff.
“And I thought I was so clever, changing my disguise. The change of shirt, shoes, gloves and the new beard didn’t fool him at all.”
“He was watching you, Nate. That’s why.”
&nbs
p; “Boy, was I dumb,” Nate moaned and shook his head.
“Not at all, friend, you were very smart.”
“He was even smarter.”
“Not true. They all make mistakes. Just remember, Nate, he didn’t get you, did he? Good grief, look at the trail he left behind when he committed those murders. His goose is cooked. We’ll get this guy.”
“Thanks. But, why didn’t he find me at the hotel?”
“What name did you use when you checked in?”
“I normally use a different name and ID, altogether.”
“See? I told you. You were smarter.”
“Thank you, Mother,” said Nate, grinning and rolling his eyes.
“Don’t forget to thank your father, too,” Cliff chuckled.
“And all my teachers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, pastors, scout leaders, mentors and friends,” he said, lightly punching Cliff on the arm.
“So, what do you think? Do we have enough to hold him?”
“George?”
“Yeah.”
“Boy, I don’t know. What’s the penalty for carrying a dangerous weapon onto a plane?”
“Not enough,” said Cliff. “It’s a civil offense to carry a gun into an airport, punishable by a fine of up to $10,000, but the authorities base it on a number of factors, including the type of weapon, the intent, whether the person resisted arrest, and whether it is a first offense.
“Some states are even writing new laws to deal with terrorism. For instance, in Texas it is illegal to threaten terrorism, which is defined by several terms. Even so, it is only a misdemeanor punishable by up to $4,000 fine and 180 days in jail, maximum.”
“Interesting,” said Nate, “and so, we can only hold him for twenty-four hours, right?”
“Well, that depends,” said Cliff. “The police can hold you for up to 24 hours before they must charge you with a crime or release you. They can apply to hold you for up to 36 or 96 hours if you're suspected of a serious crime like murder. You can be held without charge for up to fourteen days if you're arrested under the Terrorism Act.”
“Man, you are just a font of information,” said Nate. “So, we have to let George go or apply the Patriot Act. There are tons of rules in that, too.”
“Right, but remember this truism: Show me a rule, and I’ll show you a loophole.”
“Ha-ha, well that is one definition I ought to know by heart.” Nate continued in a sing-song voice, “An act of domestic terrorism is any act with the intent and for the purpose of supporting, planning, conducting, or concealing an act of domestic or international terrorism against the United States, citizens or residents of the United States or their property.”
“Tah-Dah! You’ve got that one down pat. Looks like we are covered,” said Cliff. “What say we grab our jackets and head up to the hospital? I’d like to have a word with Mr. Alan Bartle.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Nate agreed, as he stood up, grabbed his jacket and straightened his necktie.
~~~~~
Alan Bartle Interview
“I assume you know where we’re going,” said Nate, not wanting to appear less than trusting of his friend’s directional abilities.
“Uh, yeah,” said Cliff as he guided the car onto the expressway. “I think I know the way to Presence.”
“Presence?” Nate queried. “Do you mean Heaven?”
“Yeah, sometimes it’s the last step before Heaven.” Cliff laughed. “However, in this case Presence Resurrection Medical Center is the primary receiving hospital for O’Hare Airport and vicinity. They claim to treat over forty thousand patients a year.”
“Wow, that’s a whole lot of air-sickness.”
Cliff laughed, “Well, no, they also serve the neighboring communities of Park Ridge and Des Plaines. It’s a complete hospital with every kind of service, from heart to orthopedic, sports medicine, dialysis, you name it.”
“I see.”
“Look, if you want to do me a favor you can program the address into the GPS on the dash, or into your phone. Just in case you get lost, understand? I won’t need it.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“It’s 7435 West Talcott Avenue, Chicago, Illinois.”
“Hold it, not so fast. Seven, four, three, what?” asked Nate, punching in numbers.
“Five,” said Cliff.
“Go ahead.”
“West … Talcott. That’s T-A-L-C-O-T-T, Avenue.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
The Holiday Inn manager was out of intensive care. This was good. He had been moved to a private room on a private floor. This arrangement was an extra security measure used in cases where the patient needed protection and was standard in the case of gunshot wounds. All visitors were carefully screened.
Cliff and Nate stepped up to the security guard and presented their IDs.
“Yessirs, you can go on in,” the guard checked their IDs and waved them forward. “Mr. Bartle is down this hall to your left. Room 431. There is no name on the door.”
“No name?”
“Just another security precaution, sir. Here are your IDs, but hold onto them. You will need them one more time.”
Bartle was sitting up in bed, watching a game on TV. A uniformed policewoman sat in the only chair. When Cliff knocked gently, she arose and walked over. “Hello, sir,” she greeted Cliff first. “Please come in, one at a time. May I please see your ID?” she asked. Carefully checking the name and comparing the picture with Cliff’s face, she asked, “And what is your purpose in visiting this room?”
“We are here to question the witness in a crime.”
“The witness’s name, please.”
“Alan Bartle.”
She waved Cliff in and turned to Nate. “Your name and ID, please, sir.”
“Nate Sheldon, and I’m here to question Mr. Bartle, as well.”
Again she scrutinized the ID and compared the picture with Nate’s face. “You’re okay,” she waved him in and took her place, leaning against the wall and watching them. She spoke their names and purpose into a communicator.
“Mr. Bartle?” asked Cliff.
“Yeah, and you are?”
“My name is Cliff. Cliff Side. And this is Agent Nate Sheldon with Homeland Security.” He gestured toward Nate, in both cases giving their false last names.
“Hello,” said Nate. Bartle merely nodded.
“We are investigating the murder and assault that took place at the Holiday Inn Express in Des Plaines, Illinois. We understand that you were seriously injured. Is that correct?”
“Yes,”
“I know you have been interviewed already, but would you mind telling us what happened, in your own words?”
“Well,” he began, “as I told the cops, I was working as the manager that night, back in my office, when the alarm went off.”
“What alarm is that, sir?”
“Well, the front desk is equipped with a call button, if they need help.”
“I see. Go on, please.”
“And so, I immediately got up from my desk and went to see what was wrong. As I came down the hall I heard loud voices from the front desk. Some man was trying to get something. He had come around and pushed Rosie, our receptionist, down on the floor. I heard her screaming. When I heard that I started running. This strange man was trying to work the computer. I tapped 911 and he shot me. Rosie tried to escape and he shot her, too.” Bartle paused for breath and gazed forlornly out the window, a sad look on his face.
“You are doing fine,” said Cliff. “Please continue when you are ready.”
“Well, I heard the man put down the gun and try to work the computer. But, then the police sirens started, and he ran.
“When they got there, I was treated by the emergency crew and taken to this hospital where they took great care of me. They saved my life and I am very grateful. It was only later when I learned that Rosie had died, God rest her soul. Have you caught the guy, officer?”
“Not yet, but we will.”
“Why did he kill that poor woman?” Bartle moaned. “What was he doing? Was he trying to rob us?”
Cliff ignored Bartle’s questions. “You said when you first ran down the hall you heard voices. Could you understand any of the words?”
Bartle shook his head, “No not really. They didn’t make any sense.”
“That’s okay. Just tell us if you heard anything, any random words.”
Bartle thought for a minute. “I think the man said something like ‘try them all’. Not sure about that, and then she said ‘Mavis, Davis, Avis,’ and … ” He shook his head.
Cliff waited.
Nate said, “You thought you heard Mavis, Davis, Avis. That’s very good. Think hard, were there any more similar words, any more like those?”
Bartle pursed his lips and frowned. “Umm, well, she named some more words that sort of rhymed. It was crazy, so I probably heard her wrong.”
“Just try, please,” said Nate. “Anything.”
“Well, could it have been Travis, Mattis, Marvis…words like that? Why would she say that? Makes no sense.”
“Anything you heard will help us,” Cliff encouraged the man.
“Well, I know what I said.”
“Good, what did you say?”
“I yelled at him, ‘What is the meaning of this? What are you doing?’ ”
“Very good, sir. And so you must have had a reason to ask those questions. What was the man doing that caused your reaction?”
“He had come around the counter and was operating the computer.”
“And then he shot you, right?”
“That’s right.”
Everyone was quiet for a minute, each one thinking.
Bartle spoke first. “I just thought of something else the man said.”
“Excellent,” said Cliff.
“He said to her, ‘Give me your damned register’ she said something about ‘everything is on the computer these days’.
“You see, we don’t keep paper records anymore. I think that is when he shoved her down. I didn’t see that, but I heard her crash and start screaming.”
Nate Page 11
