by James Hunt
16
28 Hours Left
The paper pinched between Lena’s hands trembled. She set it down on the desk and hunched over, letting out a slow breath. It wasn’t the fear of the crowd outside, or the backlash she knew she’d receive from all of the politicians that would clamor for her resignation and advised against her giving in to the demands of the person or persons who took her daughter, but more of the aftermath of the kidnapper’s decision. It was doubt. What if she was wrong? What if the kidnapper didn’t give Kaley back? What if it made things worse? But with word already spread to every town in the state, and even to some of the major news networks around the country, there wasn’t any way for her to call it off. And even if she could, the chances of getting Kaley back increased if she ended her support of the bill.
“Hey.” Mark approached from behind and placed a hand on her arm. “You okay?”
Lena squeezed his hand. “I will be.” She glanced to the front office windows, which had been sealed over with plywood in replacement of the bullet-riddled glass. But even though she couldn’t see them, she heard the crowd outside. Half were clamoring for her to stop, the others screaming their approval. She was amazed at how quickly the people who supported her now wanted to see her hang, and how the group that had the noose ready had suddenly embraced her with open arms. But that was politics.
“Mrs. Hayes?” Janine approached cautiously, clutching a notepad to her chest as she attempted to smile. “We’re still getting calls from the other members of the state assembly. And I received an email from the governor’s secretary telling me that you needed to call him back.” She lifted her hands into the air and then dropped them helplessly at her sides.
Lena grabbed the speech on her desk. “If all those people are watching the news, then they’re about to hear everything they need to know.” Lena marched toward the door, and the deputy standing guard swung it open, flooding the office with sunlight, questions, and the chants of protestors on both sides of the issue.
A small podium had been erected just off the sidewalk in the street outside her office. Microphones sprouted from the top like weeds, and she placed her speech on the small sliver of space the podium provided. Every cameraman and reporter took a step forward, and Lena was flanked on both sides by deputies, with Mark standing directly behind her.
Lena squinted from the sunlight, and when she looked past the cluster of reporters she saw the police line holding back the crowd. She leaned forward to speak, but the protests had grown so loud that she couldn’t even hear her own words. “Thank you.” She raised her voice just an octave below a scream. “Many of you already know what this press conference is about, but I want to make it clear that I come here as both a mother and a representative of the community that elected me.” The chants remained strong, and Lena glanced down at her notes. “Early this morning my daughter was taken from our home. And the individual responsible has demanded that I renounce the oil regulation bill that I, and so many in this community, had fought to bring to life. And that victory came last night in the form of our town hall, where the bill was passed and received permission for a vote in our state legislation. It was a decision that tore this town in half. But from that pain we learned something about ourselves, something about our community.” Lena eyed the camera and clenched her fist. “That we are resilient. That we will be heard!” She pounded her fist, and the noise of the crowd grew even louder. “I started this campaign long before I ran for office. I fought for the families of the victims of New Energy Incorporated for two years. I met with them in their homes, in the hospitals, in the rooms where their sick children fought for their lives. And every parent that I spoke with said the same thing: you never think it can happen to you.” Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn’t think it could be heard over the shouts of the crowd. “And they were right. My daughter Kaley is innocent in all of this. And I beg that whoever took her to please bring her home.” She paused, the grief nearly unbearable at that point. She gripped the sides of the podium. Cameras clicked and snatched photos of the moment, and when she lifted her gaze she felt her eyes grow red and scratchy. “It is with a heavy and conflicted heart that I reach this decision. But I will not let my daughter—”
The deputy to Lena’s left suddenly stepped forward, and that was when she noticed the scuffle in the crowd near the front of the police line. The cameras and reporters shifted their attention to the scene behind them, and when Lena tried looking past the bodies and camera equipment she saw a woman break through the line, fighting the officers trying to hold her back.
Another burst of restlessness rippled through the crowd, and the police line bulged. Reporters sprinted to the scene, and the officers struggled to hold back the frenzied horde. Lena remained frozen at the podium, and she felt a tug on her arm and heard a whisper in her ear.
“Let’s get you inside.”
Lena pulled her arm free in a knee-jerk reaction, but when she turned around she saw it was only Mark. The harsh expression on her face lightened. “I need to find out what’s going on.” Before he answered she sprinted to the action. The police re-formed the perimeter as a few of the National Guard soldiers helped reestablish order, and a few people were thrown in handcuffs.
In the middle of the scuffle she saw Becky Foreman, her fist raised and her cheeks red as a cherry. She flailed her arms and kicked her feet, swinging at anything that tried to get in her way. “My daughter! That bitch took my daughter!” It was for only a half second, but it was long enough for Becky to lock eyes with Lena. “It was her! It was her!” She extended a finger, elongated with the fake nail glued over the cuticle, but the rant had done its job.
The cameras and reporters were the first to turn, followed by the officers, then the rest of the crowd. But before the police had a chance to intervene, press swarmed her.
“Mrs. Hayes! Do you have any comment on this new abduction?”
“Has the kidnapper reached out to you besides the note that was left at your home?”
“What’s your decision on the kidnapper’s demands?”
The questions were spit rapid fire, many at the same time. She put up her arms, shielding the camera from her face, and slowly backed away, the answers that the reporters sought not within her grasp.
Finally one of the officers penetrated the cluster of reporters and helped pull her back to the safety of her office, where Mark was already waiting. The officer slammed the door shut behind him on his way out and rejoined the units outside. The office walls muffled some of the shouting outside, but the frenzy had reached a crescendo, and it wasn’t long before fists and hands smacked against the plywood that covered the windows.
The door buckled, and Mark grabbed her wrist. “We need to get out of here.” He yanked her toward the back exit, but she kept her eyes glued to the door, and the snarling beast that waited on the other side. “C’mon!”
Lena yanked her arm free and walked toward it, slowly at first. But as the shouts grew louder and the walls continued to buckle, she found herself almost sprinting toward the door. All she’d ever done was to try and help people. It had been her mission ever since she’d gotten clean. She did it because she knew what it was like to be beaten and how it felt sleeping at rock bottom. But even after everything she’d done people still wanted to bring her down. She wasn’t going to take it anymore. She wasn’t going to keep the beast at bay. It was time for the two to meet.
Jake kept his left hand on the wheel and his right elbow rested on the center console. Deputy Longwood remained rigid with his seat belt clicked firmly into place. Neither had said much since they left the station, though Jake had tried to break the silence with the radio, but it lost signal six miles back. Part of the charm of North Dakota was being able to get out of the range of cell reception and technology, which wasn’t always a good thing.
“How’s your sister holding up?” Longwood asked.
“As good as can be expected.” Jake tilted his head to the side but kept
his gaze on the open road. A white New Energy truck passed in the opposite lane, and Jake knew they were getting close. “It’s a lot for anyone to take in.”
“I can imagine.” Longwood shifted in his seat uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with his hands. “Um, Sheriff, I was going to tell you at the station. I called the rig manager back about the video tape of Reese Coleman’s body, and he swore that he already gave you the security footage. Said he made you the copy himself.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, scratching the stubble under his chin. “I actually found it in my jacket pocket before we left.” He fished the drive out and handed it to Longwood, who reached for it slowly. “Just forgot about it, I guess.”
“Thanks.” Jake noted the appreciation but also heard the skepticism. Longwood turned his head, and Jake saw him toss a glance at the rifle mounted on the gun rack. Both of them knew it matched the caliber of the rifle that shot Reese Coleman. “Did Kelly mention anything to you at the hospital when the two of you… spoke?”
Jake tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Not off the top of my head.”
Longwood nodded uneasily. “It seemed that you guys were arguing about something, something that—”
“She’s a grieving widow, Deputy.” Jake tossed Longwood a sideways glance. “And that’s all she was.” His tone convinced Longwood to drop it, and the rest of the trip neither man said a word.
The gas run-off flames burst onto the horizon, and the New Energy Inc. portables came into view up ahead, though the workers’ glances weren’t as welcoming as Jake would have liked. After the bill passing, the riots, and Lena’s outburst with Ken, the sight of his truck became synonymous with trouble. In a small town it doesn’t take long for people to turn on you.
Jake parked near the wreckage of the oil rig that had exploded a few days prior when he’d first visited in regard to the harassments made against his sister. He could still feel the heat from the blast, and a quick flash of Rick Knox’s charred body appeared from the wells of his memory.
Jake rolled down his window and hollered. “Hey!” Two oil riggers glanced over their shoulders from the wreckage, both of them smoking a cigarette. “We need to speak with Scott Ambers. Do you know where he is?”
“Not here today,” the worker called out. “Prolly won’t be back till tomorrow.” He turned back around, whispering something to his friend, then continued to puff smoke.
Jake didn’t like not knowing where Scott Ambers was, and he liked it even less that his employees didn’t know. He turned to Longwood, who had his notepad and pen out, gaping at the wreckage of the oil platform that had yet to be removed from the premises. “Why don’t you start asking around and see if anyone had anything against Coleman. I’d start with the lower-level guys and then work your way up. Shit always flows downhill.”
“Got it.” Longwood’s first stop was the two workers on a smoke break, and while the deputy was questioning them Jake headed for their main office, which was little more than four of their white portables stuck together.
When Jake entered he saw the secretary to his left. “Afternoon, ma’am.” He tipped his hat, and she giggled. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”
Two compliments and one light kiss on the cheek later, and he had Reese Coleman’s personnel file in his hands. He flipped through the pages, most of which were nothing more than safety waivers and confidentiality agreements the employees were forced to sign, which pretty much forfeited any and all of their rights in case they were injured on the job or jumped ship to another company. But when he reached the W-2 form where Reese had claimed the amount of income for the past year he let out a low whistle.
Jake double-checked the number twice just to make sure he hadn’t read it wrong. Reese Coleman made more money last year than Jake had over the past five. And even though his position required some expertise on the oil rig, Coleman was well above the national average for salary. He flipped to some of the pay stubs filed away and saw that on every paycheck he had a “bonus” of five thousand dollars. Every week.
The stub didn’t specify anything more than “bonus,” and when Jake tried his charm on the secretary he was only told that the company offers “performance bonuses” that any employee is eligible for, which he confirmed in their employee handbook, and are covered in new-hire training. She couldn’t give him any information other than that but did fold her phone number into his right front pants pocket, where her hand lingered just a half second too long. Before she left he used the momentum to request Scott Amber’s file as well, which the young lady happily obliged.
But when Jake opened Scott’s file it was nearly empty. There was the standard contract that all employees were forced to sign as well as a W-2 with a modest salary. No resume. No reviews, nothing. Whatever Jake hoped to learn about the man would have to wait until he heard back from his contact in Bismarck.
“Sheriff?”
Jake snapped the file shut and spun around. Longwood stood there with a notepad in hand. “So, what’d you find?”
Longwood flipped a page in his notes. “Most of the guys I spoke with didn’t talk to Reese very much. They said he kept to himself mostly after the trial. Caught some jawing from some of the riggers about his wife—”
“Kelly?” Jake asked, jumping on the subject a little too quickly. “What about her?”
Longwood tapped the pen against the paper of his pad and shook his head. “Just that they never saw the two together a whole lot over the past few months.”
The radio on Jake’s shoulder crackled, and Jackie’s voice broke through. “Sheriff, you there?”
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a problem in town. There’s been another kidnapping.”
17
27 Hours Left
Lena watched the deputy interview Gwen through the cracks in the blinds from Jake’s office. Gwen kept her head down with her hands clasped tight between her knees. Across the sea of open desks in another office Lena saw Becky Foreman’s red face as she screamed at the officer who was taking her statement and her own daughter’s statement, whom Gwen had been hanging out with when her youngest was taken.
Lena tossed one quick glance to Gwen again before she turned around and slumped in the chair near the office door. “I’m going to wring her neck when they’re done with her.”
Mark bounced his knee nervously and kept his head down. “It’s not her fault.”
“She snuck out of the house and got high with a girl who she had just gotten into a fight with at her school a few days ago, Mark. How is disobeying our rules not her fault?”
“Give her a break, will you?” Mark jumped from his chair and turned his back, the sudden rush of anger surprising. “We’re all tired. We’re all trying to deal with it.” He turned around, his fingers splayed out and his palms up. “We are a family, Lena.” His tone softened and he sat back down, rubbing his eyes.
Lena scratched the crook of her elbow. “I don’t want her dealing with this through drugs and alcohol. I know how hard this is for her. For all of us. But I also know what can happen if she leans on that crutch.” Her voice grew soft. “I don’t want her to become me.”
Jake entered, and both Lena and Mark quickly stood, but he waved them back down as he placed his hat on top of the coatrack and collapsed into his chair. “The person who took Emily Foreman left a note.” Jake opened a folder on his desk and pointed to a clear plastic bag with the note tagged as evidence, and then slid it across the table.
Lena stretched from her chair and picked it up. “Keep the bill alive, or Emily Foreman dies.” Her stomach churned, and then she handed the note to Mark, whose complexion drained to a ghostly pale.
“Forensics is analyzing the handwriting now, but it looks like it’s a different person,” Jake said. “Right now we don’t know if the kidnapper who took Emily Foreman has any connection to who took Kaley. All we know for sure is that this kidnapper’s demands insist on the bill staying alive.” The springs on Ja
ke’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward over his desk. “We have to tread lightly here. And I think our first step is cancelling your press conference. Or at least postponing it.”
Lena covered her mouth and paced the floor, her head down. She checked the time on her phone. “The person who took my daughter gave us a time frame.” She pointed to the note on the desk. “This one didn’t.”
“We don’t know what will happen to the Foreman girl if you make the announcement. Do you really want that girl’s life on your conscience?”
“I don’t want my daughter’s life on my conscience!” Lena pressed her palms flat against Jake’s desk, leaning over it. “This is a girl from the same family that has been against us from the beginning. You want me to choose her over Kaley?”
“I’m not asking you to choose anyone,” Jake answered. “I’m just asking you to give me some more time.” Jake held out his hand, counting off the altercations on his fingers. “The harassments. The riot. Kaley’s kidnapping. The protests. Emily’s kidnapping. I have half the state’s National Guard stationed in this town to help keep the peace. I’ve called in resources from every surrounding county to help with the investigation. We’re sitting on a powder keg right now, and I just want to give us some breathing room.”
“And I want my daughter!” Lena slammed her fist on the desk. A rush of pressure flooded her head. Her legs buckled, and she stumbled backward and collapsed into her chair, the strength in her muscles turning to jelly. “I have to get her back.” Her voice trembled, knowing that her choice condemned one life or the other. “And I won’t sacrifice my daughter for someone else’s.”
