Distortion (Moonlighters Series) (27 page)
The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Shut him up, will you? Give him another hit of chloroform.”
Chloroform. Zach didn’t know what it was. It didn’t sound good. He stiffened as he watched Caleb pour something into a rag, then come toward him.
“No!” Zach fought. “No, please!”
“Quiet.” Caleb mashed the rag over his mouth and nose. Zach held his breath. After a few seconds, he pretended to go limp. Caleb backed off. Then Zach let out a slow, shallow, unmoving breath.
“That ought to do it,” Caleb said, and Zach heard him moving toward the front seat. “David, that won’t kill them, will it?” Caleb asked. “I didn’t sign up to kill no kids.”
“You’re acting like you’re expecting to get caught. We won’t get caught. We’re being careful.”
“I don’t know if they’re payin’ us enough for this. I’m not going back to prison. It would kill Mama.”
“None of us are going back to prison,” David said. “Mark my words. And we’re getting thirty thousand each, man!”
Zach kept his eyes closed. So they were brothers—Caleb
and David, and the other guy in the passenger seat. They’d been to prison. Somebody else was calling the shots. They’d been paid to kidnap him and Abe.
He didn’t know if he’d be able to keep himself or his brother alive.
T
he safe house wasn’t what Juliet had expected. It looked like someone’s home. There were even clothes in the laundry hamper and towels in the dryer. The two tiny bedrooms had dark sixties paneling. One had a bed with a thin knit bedspread pulled haphazardly over a pillow. The other was full of junk.
She would have expected the FBI to own a nice condo somewhere.
The house smelled moldy and stale, so when the boys had asked if they could go outside, she agreed, as long as they didn’t wander off the property.
Darren and Agent Blue had left one man to guard the house. He hadn’t said more than a few words to her and the boys, but she was thankful for the security.
She wet a dish towel and wiped down the sticky Formica countertops, just for something to do. When her phone rang, she dove for it. The caller ID showed a number she didn’t
recognize, but it could be one of the FBI agents trying to reach her. She clicked it on. “Hello?”
It was a man’s voice. “Hello, my little Juliet.”
Chills ran down her spine. “Who is this?”
He didn’t answer that, just got right to the point. “Do you know where your children are?”
The question jolted her. She ran to the back door and threw it open. “Zach! Abe!”
They didn’t answer. She ran into the yard and turned in circles. They were nowhere. Screaming for them, she ran around the house to the front door.
The man guarding the house was gone.
Panic rushed her like a tsunami. “Who is this?” she shouted into the phone.
There was only laughter. “The kids are with us.”
No! Juliet ran around to the back again and stood in the middle of the yard, turning slowly as she screamed their names. The tire swing was still moving, as if it had been recently abandoned. Terror burst through her. They had taken them!
“What have you done with them?” she screamed.
“We’ve just tried to give you some incentive,” he said. “If you contact the police or the FBI, we’ll kill them. Simple as that. Don’t even contact your sisters or Michael Hogan.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to follow my instructions step by step, and we’ll both get what we want.”
Sweat broke out under her arms, across her lip, her temples. “You give me my children and I’ll do whatever you want,” she said. “But I won’t do anything until you bring them to me.”
Laughter again. “Juliet, you don’t call the shots here. You do what we say.”
Her gaze darted back and forth across the yard. Had someone come out of the woods and grabbed them? They must be terrified! Had she failed to hear their screams?
“If you hurt my children . . . if you touch one hair of their heads . . . I’ll hunt you down . . .”
The man was amused. “Juliet, your kids’ safety is entirely in your hands. Now listen carefully. I want you to drive to the nearest store that sells prepaid phones. Buy one, activate it, and then text me your new number at this phone number. Don’t put anything else in the text. Then I’ll call you on your new phone and tell you what your next step is. Let me say it again. If you contact anyone, we’ll know. And your kids will be dead.”
She had no choice. “All right, but I want to talk to my children. Put them on the phone.”
“Sorry, they’re sleeping.”
“Sleeping?”
What had they done? Had they drugged her boys? Were they already dead?
Before she could speak again, the phone clicked off. Juliet stood there a moment, her hands and legs trembling. She thought of calling Max or Darren, but would the man on the phone know? She quenched the urge to call her siblings. She couldn’t risk her children’s lives. She had to do what the man said.
She ran back into the house, grabbed her car keys and purse, raced outside. Only then did she remember that she had left her van somewhere else. The FBI had left one sedan at her house with the guard, but he was gone. Had they killed him? His car was still there. Where were the keys? She ran out to the car, but it was locked. She didn’t see the keys through the window.
Her van. She had to get to it. It was only a mile or so away.
She took off running, trying to remember every turn they
had taken. Sweat dripped through her hair into her eyes as she ran. She passed buildings and parking lots, but didn’t try to wave anyone down. She could see her van up ahead in the empty parking lot. She ran as fast as she could, gasping for breath, until she reached it.
She got into it and drove like she was on a high speed chase, looking for someplace she might be able to buy a disposable phone.
The drugstore! It seemed like she had seen those Go Phones there. She headed to the nearest Walgreens, running a red light and almost hitting a car in front of her. She jerked to a halt and ran in, stopped at the cash register. “Those prepaid phones. Do you have them?” she asked the lady at the checkout.
“There.” The woman pointed to the display.
Juliet grabbed one and pulled out her debit card. “I’m in a hurry,” she said to the people in line in front of her. “It’s really important. Can I go before you?”
The two people in line let her go. The checkout woman looked disgusted as she rang her up and put the phone into a bag. Juliet almost jerked it out of her hands. She rushed out to the van, struggling to open the packaging. Eventually she worked her way into it and pulled the instructions out. How did she activate this thing? She had no idea.
Skimming the instructions, she found a phone number. She had to call and give them the number on the phone and her credit card number, and then they would activate it. Quickly, she called the number and waited on hold as seconds ticked by.
What could they be doing to her children? While she was holding, she tried to imagine Zach fighting back, getting himself into more trouble. Abe would cry quietly, trying not to move or make anybody mad.
That’s right, baby. Stay quiet.
As she held, Juliet located her gun, tucked away in a lockbox under her seat. She pulled the box out, found the key on her keychain, and clicked it open. She pulled out the Glock and checked the clip to make sure it was loaded. Snapping it back in, she had no question that she could kill her sons’ kidnappers if she had to. If she got close enough, she could do it, just like they had murdered her husband. They wouldn’t get away with touching her children. They’d underestimated her.
The holding music cut off, and someone answered. “Would you like to activate your phone?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Could you give me the activation number?”
Juliet read it, waited, then gave her debit card number. “How soon will it be activated?”
“Should be in the next hour or so.”
“Could you put a rush on it?” she asked. “I’m in a very big hurry. It’s a matter of life and death.”
“It’s not really up to me,” the woman said. “But it might not take as long as an hour. That’s just what we tell people in case the computer is slow.”
She was getting a headache. She rubbed her temples. “Okay, thank you.” She hung up and waited, hoping the phone was powered up. She found the battery icon. It showed 25 percent. It must have been charged at the factory.
It didn’t have any bars yet. She tried to call her other phone, but it was too soon.
Minutes had never stretched so long . . .
Finally, she saw the bars. The phone was working! She looked on her original phone and found the number of the kidnapper. On the Go Phone, she texted him her new number, then waited.
More excruciating minutes ticked by before the phone rang. When it did, she jumped. She clicked it on. “I did what you said. Let me talk to them.”
“Not yet, Juliet. But you did good. I’m very impressed.”
“What do you want from me?” she bit out.
“I want you to meet us at the Court Street house. I know you know where it is. Bring your codes. We’ll need your fingerprint and your eye to get in.”
“Fine,” she said. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Don’t park at the house. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.”
She prayed the FBI were still at the house. But what if they weren’t? She wasn’t sure they would be monitoring it in real time. And what if they’d changed the codes? What if she couldn’t get in anymore?
She would have to try.
But if the man on the phone got the money, would it only fund more drugs that would wind up on the streets of her town?
She squeezed her eyes shut. “God, you’ve got to help me. I can’t take it if anything happens to my babies. You know I can’t! I need your intervention.”
She started her car and headed to King’s Point, determined to do whatever it took to save her children.
T
he van finally stopped, and Zach pretended to still be sleeping. Through slitted eyelids, he’d checked on his brother often during the ride, praying that he was okay, that he wouldn’t have brain damage from the chloroform. Caleb, David, and the other dude kept chattering about what they were going to do when they got the money.
From where he lay, Zach could see the assault rifles on their laps. There was also a pistol strapped to the driver’s shin, partially visible under his jeans.
The van stopped, and he heard them get out. They opened the back doors. He heard one of them pick up Abe, and seconds later someone hoisted Zach and turned him over his shoulder like a bag of dirt. Zach tried to stay limp as the blood rushed to his head. He couldn’t let them know he was conscious.
He slitted his eyes again to see where he was. He could tell by the pattern on the shirt that it was Caleb who was carrying
him, following David up a dirt driveway. An old trailer sat far back from the street. How would his mother ever find them here?
Hanging over David’s shoulder, Abe was red-faced.
Zach felt suddenly helpless.
God, I need you to show Mom
where we are. Please don’t let them hurt Abe.
Someone opened the door, and they were carried from daylight into a dark trailer. It smelled musty, sour, smoky.
“I told you on the phone not to bring them here,” a man’s voice said. He sounded old, his voice weak and raspy.
“We had to.”
“I ain’t got food or electricity.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” David said. “We just have to keep them here until we get our orders.”
“Are they dead?”
“No, just sleeping.”
“Sleeping mighty hard.”
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll wake up before you know it.”
The men carried them into the bedroom and dumped them on a mattress that smelled like urine. Zach didn’t move.
“You wait here at the door,” David told Caleb. “The minute they wake up, you let me know.”
David’s steps shook the trailer. Zach slitted his eyes and saw that Caleb’s back was to him. Quickly, he glanced around. There was a window. If he could get it open, they might be able to get out. Abe was breathing, but he still seemed to be sleeping. Why hadn’t he woken up yet? Had they hurt him?
Where were the police? Why hadn’t anyone come to help?
I
will
never
leave
you
nor
forsake
you.
It was a verse that Zach had memorized in Bible Drill, and he’d been told it was true. God never left his children. So how had he and Abe been
kidnapped and brought here?
You
promised,
Zach prayed silently.
There’s nobody else to turn to. You gotta be there for us.
Caleb was holding his assault rifle, a strap around his back. What if Zach attacked him? Jumped on his back? Knocked him over? Would the element of surprise help, or would Caleb squash him like a roach? No, he would just have to wait. If he did anything, he might get Abe killed.
He closed his eyes and lay still, waiting for God to tell him what to do.
J
uliet dreaded going into the Court Street house again. She passed it once, looking through the gates, hoping to see the FBI’s crime scene investigators there, but the courtyard looked empty.
Now she wished she’d bought two Go Phones and used one to call Michael. No, she wouldn’t need to do that. She could call on this phone. They hadn’t had time to tap it, had they?
But what if Miller or Amber or whoever else had taken the boys had bugged Michael’s phone? Or Cathy’s? They knew things they weren’t supposed to know. If she took the chance and they found out, her kids could pay the price.
She parked in a common area near the water, about ten houses down from the Court Street house. She pulled the page with the codes out of her pocket—and noticed with surprise that her hands weren’t shaking. A strange resolve had come over her, filling her with determination.
She didn’t get out of her car yet. She looked around to see
where the kidnappers might be parked. There were no cars parked along the street.
