Blackmail (17 page)

Jon leaned forward and stuck out his head. No sign of Kinnard. Jon let out a long breath, then as quietly as he could, turned and crept back toward the street.

He reached the front porch.

Da-da-daa! Da-da-daa!

Jon reached into his pocket and pressed the button to reject the call on his cell phone, then moved his finger to the button to place the cell on silent. He stood very still, listening and waiting.

Maybe Kinnard was in the back of the house and hadn't heard. Maybe he'd had the television up loud. Maybe Jon was home-free.

And then the dog next door began barking and growling and jumping on the fence.

The front door opened.

Kinnard's stare settled on Jon's. They held eye contact for a long moment, then Kinnard flew off the porch.

Jon turned and ran all-out toward the car. Kinnard's footsteps sloshed and thudded behind him.

Two hundred feet more and he'd be there.

Each step felt like an eternity. His feet slipped on the wet grass and he went to his knees. He popped back up, got his balance and took off again.

One hundred more feet.

Still running, he hit the pavement. While running, Jon stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his keys.

Fifty feet more.

Jon's loafers slid on the slick asphalt. Down he went. He put his palms to the road, tried to push upright.

Excruciating pain slammed into the back of his head. He fell back to the wet pavement. White dots danced before his eyes, and just before everything went pitch-black, one thought went through Jon's mind.

Jesus, help me.

H
e'd rejected her call! It'd rung once, then went directly to voice mail—a sign that the recipient had turned it off midcall.

Sadie placed the phone back in the cradle. She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. Why on earth would Jon reject her call? They'd made a connection today that took their relationship to a new level, even if they hadn't had time to discuss their feelings. He wouldn't abandon her and then reject her call. There had to be something wrong with his cell.

Maybe the battery was dying. Or maybe he was somewhere he couldn't get a good signal. She'd just take her shower and then try him again.

She glanced at the clock as she made her way into the bathroom. Caleb had officially been missing for almost four hours now. How could this have happened? Why hadn't she gone to the police when she'd gotten the first letter? Whatever made her think she could handle it and take care of Caleb by herself?

She washed the tears away in the shower, shampooing her hair twice, just to say she did. After her shower, she brushed her teeth and slipped on walking shorts and a T-shirt, then headed into the bedroom.

Steam swept across the room, having made its great escape from the confines of the bathroom.

Felicia had been right—a hot shower had helped clear her
head. But in doing so, her heart ached harder. While under the hot jets, she'd realized just how much Caleb had come to mean to her. Not just because he was the only family she had left. Not just because he was her half brother. But because they'd begun to form a relationship like she'd dreamed of when she agreed to become his guardian. And now she stood to lose him.

Father, please bring Caleb safely home to me.

She slipped her feet into sandals and paced. She checked the caller ID base—no call registered from anyone. Not the sheriff. Not the FBI. Not Jon.

She perched on the edge of the mattress and dialed Jon's number again. It rang four times before dumping her into his voice mail. No way he'd ignore any call, much less hers. And he couldn't still be out of range. Not unless…

She retrieved the business card the FBI had given her from the pocket of the skirt she'd been wearing before her shower. With no further thought, she lifted the phone again and dialed the number.

“Agent Ward.”

“This is Sadie Thompson.”

“Yes? Have you heard from your brother?”

“No. Nothing yet.”

“Ma'am, we're working the case. We'll call you as soon as we know something.” His impatience seeped into his voice.

“Wait. That's not why I'm calling.”

“Did you think of something that could help?”

“No. I'm calling about Jon Garrison.”

“Who?”

“The probation officer. Caleb's probation officer.”

“What about him?” The FBI agent all but sighed over the connection.

“He left my house to go follow a lead. I think something's happened to him.” Raw fear twisted inside her.

“Why's that?”

“I called his cell phone and he rejected my call. I tried calling again and it eventually went to voice mail.”

Now the agent did sigh. “Ma'am, I'm sure he's just fine. If you left a message, he'll probably call you back. Now, I really need to get back to working on your brother's case.”

She wouldn't let him disregard Jon's predicament. She
knew
something was wrong. “No. Something's wrong. Didn't you hear me say he went out to follow a lead?”

“A lead on what?”

“My brother's case.”

The agent cursed under his breath. “What lead?”

“I don't know for sure.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

“We were looking into Derrick Roberts or Jack Kinnard. He could've gone to follow up with either of them.”

“Wait a minute. He's a probation officer?”

“Yes.”

“What's his cell phone number?”

She gave him the number. “But he's not answering.”

“I'm not going to check that. Hold on a minute.”

She could make out the sound of keys on a computer keyboard clicking.

“I got it.”

“What?”

“All cell phones of government officers have a GPS in them. Right now, the satellite's showing Mr. Garrison is moving.”

“Moving where?”

More clicking sounded. “Um, looks like he's heading outside the city limits.”

Her heart clutched. “Toward the bayou?”

“Yes, wh—Look, I'll call you back when we know something.” He hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye.

At least he'd figured out this was serious.

Sadie replaced the phone, her entire body shaking.

Something had happened to Jon and now he was going toward the bayou. Had he found Caleb? The blackmailers?

The murderers?

Sweet Jesus, watch over Jon and Caleb. Please. I love them both.

And as she whispered the prayer, she knew beyond a doubt that she loved Jon Garrison with everything she had. Just when she thought she'd cried until she had nothing left inside, tears streamed down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and laid her face on the mattress.

 

Darkness enveloped him as his right thigh vibrated. Jon couldn't open his eyes for a moment.

Movement jarred him against hot metal and he jerked. His head hurt. The back of his neck hurt. Matter of fact, his whole body felt beat-up. He tried to swallow, but his mouth met with cotton.

Jon slowly blinked open his eyes. Attempting to hoist himself from his reclining position, Jon fell against the restraints holding his legs together and his hands confined. Fear surged through his soul as it all came back to him.

Jack Kinnard had him!

A quick glance around confirmed his fears. He lay tied up and gagged in the back of Kinnard's beat-up pickup truck, a tarp of some sort covering him. The truck bounced and swayed, definitely not on a paved road. The smell of diesel exhaust and damp soil crept under the covering to tickle Jon's nose.

God, I need some serious help.

What had happened? Jon pressed his eyes closed, even though he could feel his right eye swelling. He needed to clear his head, think. He remembered the phone call, running, slipping and falling, then nothing but blackness after that. Kinnard must have hit him from behind, knocking him out.

Now Kinnard was taking him somewhere. Well, Jon needed to do something. Get himself free so when the truck stopped, he could stand up to Kinnard. Or at the very least, get away from the man and his partner.

Jon scooted across the bed of the truck, pressing his back against the hump of the tire well. Anything to have some stabil
ity. The jarring metal grated against his spine, but he ignored the pain. He had much more pressing concerns.

Where could Kinnard be taking him? Remembering the phone call he'd overheard, Jon considered that he was most likely being taken to where Caleb was being held. At least he'd know if the boy was okay.

His right thigh vibrated again. Poor Sadie, she must be frantic. She had to be the one calling.

God, comfort her. Somehow, let her know I'm okay.

His phone! Kinnard hadn't thought to check Jon's pockets and remove the cell. He could call for help! If he could just get the phone out of his pocket…

But his hands were tied behind his back. He tugged and wiggled his wrists, but the makeshift cuffs didn't loosen. By the rough feel, Jon could only guess that a nylon rope held his hands in place.

The truck took a sharp right, rolling Jon to the other side of the bed. Metal clanked against metal. Jon maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position. Maybe he could use whatever was loose in the bed to get his hands free.

He shifted his bound feet, making large sweeping motions. He kept moving in a clockwise manner. His legs were tired, his back aching and his breathing coming in spurts, but he kept searching. Surely he'd hit upon something soon. As he made yet another semicircle, metal clattered.

Success!

Jon moved his legs slowly back until he felt an object under his calf. The truck hit a bump, bouncing him and the object a good three inches off the bed of the truck. He landed with a thud, the sound of metal tinkling hit somewhere behind him.

Great. He'd have to start all over.
Please, God, give me a break here.

With a deep breath, Jon extended his body as much as he could and swept his legs across the bed of the truck. His thigh vibrated again.

His heart broke for Sadie. Oh, he wished he'd talked to her before he followed through on this harebrained idea. First Caleb went missing and now look at the situation he'd gotten himself into. If only he'd at least let her know how much she meant to him, how important and precious she was.

The truck made another sharp turn, rolling Jon across the bed again. And then it came to a shuddering stop.

 

Brring!

Sadie raced the last few steps to the kitchen and yanked the cordless off its base. It rattled to the counter. She pressed the talk button. “Hello.”

“Sadie? It's Georgia. Are you okay?”

She sighed, disappointment covering her. “I-I'm sorry I ran out on you.” Her voice cracked. How could she tell anyone what was going on?

Felicia passed her a cup of tea.

“I was worried. Is there anything I can do?”

She was terrified there was nothing anyone could do. Dare she open up and let someone know she was hurting? Time to forget worrying about what others would think of her. “You can pray. My brother's missing.”

“Oh, no, I'm so sorry. Of course I'll pray for you and your brother.”

Sadie blinked. She hadn't realized her assistant was a Christian. Georgia didn't attend Vermilion Parish Fellowship. “Th-Thank you.”

“Do you need anything? Can I bring you over supper or something?”

“No, I couldn't even think about eating right now, but I appreciate the offer. More than you know.” Sadie swallowed the lump in her throat that seemed to be making return appearances quite often these days.

“I'll be praying. You call me if you need something, girl. I mean it, I'm here if you need me.”

Sadie thanked her friend and said goodbye, hung up the phone, then stared at the caller ID. Why hadn't she heard from the blackmailers, now kidnappers? Shouldn't they contact her again? Or were they merely going to follow through with their threat and kill him?

She crumbled against the Formica counter.

Pastor was there in an instant, keeping her from falling. How symbolic…just like he'd kept her from falling back into her old way of life, now he literally kept her steady as he walked her to the kitchen table.

Felicia sat beside her, rubbing her shoulder. “Shh. It's okay to be scared, terrified even. You don't have to hold it all together for us.”

“Well, you might want to stiffen up because of who just pulled in the driveway.” Pastor nodded toward the window.

Sadie shot to her feet. “Jon!”

“Oh, no, I'm sorry. It's the men the FBI sent.”

Great. Someone else to tell her she'd messed up everything by not reporting the letter as soon as she'd gotten it.

“Here, take a sip.” Felicia lifted the cup to her.

Not much for hot tea, Sadie took a short sip. A knock pounded on the door. Pastor moved in that direction. Men's hushed voices filtered into the kitchen. Maybe Pastor would make them go away. She didn't know how much longer she could keep up the charade of being calm. Not when everything within her screamed.

Pastor returned to the kitchen. “They're putting the tracer on the phone in the living room.”

“Merci.”
She forced herself to take another sip. “What do we do now?”

Felicia smiled. “Just like you told your friend, pray.”