Painless (31 page)

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?

That’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.

Chapter 71

Franklin Stipe rumbled his military-looking Hummer in the direction of the surprise party he was going to hold in Billy Harper’s honor. He didn’t doubt that Harper had started in the direction Ken Kiely indicated—Kiely seemed like an honest chap—but Stipe knew Harper had purposely tried to send him on another wild goose chase.

A nice try, but this wasn’t Stipe’s first rodeo, and he wasn’t going to be fooled by these amateurs again. And like most amateurs, if you gave them enough rope they’d hang themselves. And that was exactly what was about to happen here. A smile came over his blistery face, knowing he was about to seal their fate.

He maintained his conquering smile as he drove to the Schenectady Amtrak Station. People do stupid things when they are feeling panic. Or maybe it’s the other way around. But either way, Dana Boulanger purchasing those three train tickets with her very traceable credit card was off-the-charts stupid.

Speaking of stupid, that’s when Stipe heard of the commotion over his police scanner. A security guard was shot while attempting to stop the kidnapper, Billy Harper, at Elmer Avenue Elementary School. But it wasn’t Harper who shot him. The shooting suspect was a wiry thin man with a long, graying beard and ponytail. The suspect had fled the scene.

Stipe grew angry at Jones, but not for his stupidity. That was a given. It was for lack of loyalty. Jones was his protégé, and Stipe believed if it wasn’t for him, Jones would be some combination of dead, strung out on drugs, or in prison. It was obvious that Jones didn’t understand the pecking order, and attempted to play hero. His beloved Herbert Spencer didn’t teach him the most important law of nature—that Stipe was always the one standing in the end.

Stipe avoided the school scene, which thanks to Jones was crawling with police. The detour would only cost him a couple minutes, but the train didn’t leave for another fifteen. A lifetime in his business. He arrived confidently in the train station parking lot and quickly located the motorcycle Harper stole from the Garcia home. He wasn’t sure how Dana Boulanger arrived, but had confirmation that she was the one who had bought the train tickets.

Stipe entered the small train station and grinned at the sight before him. Not only would he get the child, but when he threatened to kill her, Harper would surely give him the location of the remaining Rose brothers. His loyalty was his downfall.

Before him, sitting in a waiting area, sat a man, woman, and a child, thinking they were about to board the getaway train. To make things even better, their backs were to him. The element of surprise was on his side.

He grabbed his gun and readied his false FBI badge, identifying him as Agent Hasenfus. He straightened his suit, put his sunglasses on, and marched toward his prey. There were fewer than ten people in the waiting area. He figured they might give him a standing ovation for taking away the evil kidnapper, and saving poor little Carolyn Whitcomb. He would show Jones what heroism is all about.

He moved right behind the long, brunette ponytail hanging out of the woman’s baseball cap. Low points for creativity on the disguise, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He stood for a moment behind her, enjoying the sounds of their nervous breaths. Now it was show time.

“Freeze—FBI,” he said in a firm voice, but didn’t want to shout it and alarm the other travelers in the station. “Slowly show me your hands and put them in the air.”

The three people followed his instructions. The adults calmly put their hands into the air, while the child shot her hands up with enthusiasm. They didn’t try to run or make a desperate plea. He liked the combination of fear and admiration his prey always displayed toward him upon capture. He maneuvered to face them.

But when he did, his face slumped, and mouth dropped. It wasn’t Billy Harper, Dana Boulanger, and Carolyn Whitcomb he was looking at. It was Richard Kiely, his mother, Barbara, and his daughter, Claudia—headed for a weekend trip to Montreal.