The Cupel Recruits (24 page)

“Mrs. Jacob, we have your daughter.” Jillian began to cry.

“Please, please don’t hurt her,” she said while crying, reading from the sheet the words she didn’t entirely believe. “What do you want?”

“We’re going to want two million dollars, with no smoke and mirrors. We’ll be calling you back with where to drop it, but you just go ahead and get it.”

“That’s a lot of money. I want to talk to Phoebe. I need to know she’s alright,” she read.

“You’ll talk to her when I say you’ll talk to her, and if you don’t get my money, you won’t be talking to her at all!” he yelled. Jillian’s crying increased.

“Please. Please, I’m worried sick. Surely you have a mother. Please let me talk to her!” she managed to get out between sobs. She lengthened her sobs so the words took longer, trying to take up more time.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Get my money!” and with that the assailant hung up.

Jillian broke into hysterics and fell to the floor as one of the officers attempted to console her.

“Forty-five seconds,” gumshoe #2 said to Felix Lee, “but he’s still in the state.”

“Increase the timing on the amber alerts on all the major interstates within the state borders, and notify the adjacent states,” he ordered.

Lela saw the amber alert for Phoebe Jacob as she neared the exit for her parent’s house and shook her head. She couldn’t believe the child had been taken without a trace. It was already getting dark, and she’d told Brett she’d be to her parent’s house by dark so the security detail didn’t start having fits about not being with her. Suddenly, she was struck with the idea that Phillip Harriman could find Phoebe. She blasted past the exit as she dialed his number on the cell phone.

“No answer,” she muttered to herself as she upped her speed to 75. Just fifteen minutes later she pulled into the driveway of his Victorian home. The front half of the house, the portion containing his offices, was dark, but the back half was lit. Instead of knocking on the front door, she walked around the side of the house, her shoes crunching on the tiny gravel pebbles beneath her feet. She swung open the screen door to the wraparound porch and knocked instead on the small side door leading to the kitchen and courtyard area. The last bit of light left the sky at that moment and she was standing in the dark. After a minute, the porch light flipped on and Phillip opened the door. He didn’t appear surprised though he was attired in sweatpants and a worn Georgetown t-shirt.

“Sorry to bother you,” she began, feeling intrusive. Phillip’s lab puppy lolled its way up to Lela and began jumping at the bottoms of her legs until she reached down and petted his ears.

“No bother. I expected you, just thought it would be in the morning,” Phillip advised. He started banging the side of his head dramatically, “Gotta get this thing checked out.” Lela chuckled and the puppy yanked a toy from the porch and started repeatedly ramming it with all of his might, which wasn’t much force, against her legs, beseeching her to play.

“This is Jules,” Phillip said, picking up the dog’s leash from the side table. “He wants to go play in the yard, do you mind?”

“Of course not,” she agreed, and the pair plus one rambunctious Jules pup ran to the small side yard.

“Did you hear about Phoebe Jacob?” Lela asked. Phillip looked grave, feeling something was very wrong as soon as Lela said the name, but he’d seen none of it prior.

“No,” he said.

“She was abducted from her room last night without a trace,” she informed him. As Phillip heard the words, he felt nauseated, his heart began to race, and a subtle burning sensation entered his ears. He sat quickly on the weathered outdoor patio set.

“I didn’t see this when I met with him last,” he conceded, “which usually means it wasn’t set to occur at that time. They must’ve decided spur-of-the-moment.”

“They?” Lela urged.

“The men that took her,” he reported flatly.

“Can you see where they took her?” she asked, hoping he was as good as she thought he was.

“I see them. The faces are really dark, though. Almost obscured by something. Very strange,” he revealed. “Your mineral helps me get a better frequency-Let me go in the house and get some.”

“Oh, I have some with me,” Lela said. She’d been carrying her backpack since she hadn’t time to switch back to a purse for her keys and such since returning from Africa.

“Sorry,” she said, brushing it off the table, and digging in the pack. She pulled the Ziploc bags from the bottom, removed a large chunk of DL mineral and handed it to Phillip. Jules the pup, suddenly curious about the pack, propped up on his hind legs, paws swimming at the pack’s edges unsuccessfully trying to grab hold of it as his nose sniffed and sniffed the foreign scents. Phillip held the mineral in both hands like a pitcher with an expectant baseball and breathed rhythmically as he focused his energy.

“I see them better now,” he said, “Clear faces…. no sign of Phoebe.”

“Can you see where they are?” Lela asked. Phillip suddenly saw a map of the state in his mind and a dot on the city of Greenville.

“I think they’re in Greenville,” he said.

“Really? Can you see the house? The number-or the street?” she pursued.

“They’re in a hotel room,” Phillip answered slowly, robotically. He searched the room in his mind for a sign of the hotel name. Looking for stationery, on the phone, everywhere he could think of, but the surroundings were unclear. As he focused his attention on the desk in the kidnapper’s hotel room, he noticed a picture of Phoebe. As soon as he saw it, his mind flashed an image of the men digging a shallow grave in a remote area full of brush. They picked up the tiny girl’s lifeless body, slung it carelessly into the grave and began to cover her with dirt.

“What hotel? What number?” Lela asked.

“I left the hotel,
" he explained, opening his eyes and looking at Lela solemnly. “Lela, she’s dead. I saw them burying her.” Lela recoiled.

“She’s gone just today. Aren’t they going to ask for ransom or something? Don’t they usually wait at least two or three days? Are you sure-maybe you’re seeing the future.” Lela hoped she was right.

“No, I’m sure, she’s gone.” Lela’s cell phone rang, and it suddenly occurred to her that she was at least an hour overdue at her house. It was Brett.

“Lela, are you okay? My guys said you’re not at the house yet.”

“I’m fine. Sorry, I got sidetracked,” she replied.

“Lela, Phoebe was kidnapped-by people who may or may not be after you or others involved, so you can’t be taking off without letting us know, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Phillip Harriman’s,” she rose and took a few steps away into the yard, turning her back to Phillip, “I was thinking he might have an idea where Phoebe is, so I came straight here.”

“I learned to get the bad guys the old fashioned way. CAG teams never really use psychics much,” he chided.

“Brett, he says the guys that took her are in Greenville, in a hotel, but he can’t tell which one.” Brett weighed the information. They had absolutely nothing to go on. Perhaps a small chance of a Hail Mary pass was better than nothing.

“How many does he think were involved?”

“Phillip, Brett is asking how many guys you saw,” Lela relayed.

“Two,” he replied, stroking his dog’s ears, still trying to calm himself from the disturbing images, which impacted his sensitivities more than the average person.

“Two,” she reported back to Brett, “and Brett, he says they killed her already, and buried her body in an area full of brush.”

“Well, we received a call here just a while ago demanding ransom. Pretty bold move if she’s not even alive. Nice hotel or a cheap one?”

Lela turned back to Phillip, “He’s asking if it was a nice hotel or a cheap one.”

“The furnishings weren’t very nice, but definitely had that corporate cookie-cutter feel, so probably a low to mid-grade chain, not a local motel or anything.” Lela relayed the information to Brett.

“Okay, not sure what we can do with that, but thanks. And please get back to your parent’s house.” He hung up, mulling over the limited information. One of the officers gathering evidence appeared.

“Lee said to give this to you. It’s the make and model of the van used by the kidnappers. We found a tire track in the soft dirt near the edge of the road matching their factory-issue tires, so it’s probably a late model,” he told Brett.

“Get me the names and addresses of every mid to low grade chain hotel in Greenville. We’ll drive there and start searching parking lots for the van. I don’t want the locals stomping around too loudly and scaring them off. I don’t trust to farm this out to them,” Brett requested, the General overhearing as he approached.

“You’re going to Greenville now? How long has it been since you slept?”

“I slept on the plane, plus I’ll sleep on the way, let the officer drive.” The General nodded and Brett rolled his shoulders back fighting his own tiredness.

Lela, too, was completely exhausted when she finally did reach the safe haven of her parent’s home. She had begun the day in Johannesburg, her stopover from the regional airport, and was grateful to be home. Eager to dig into files she had been thinking about on the plane, she switched the light on in the office after dropping her things at the door. She flipped on the computer and began to read through files casually, one foot on the floor and one in the chair, not sure what she was looking for. She had been through these files before and had the gnawing feeling that there was something there she needed. Like a person who remembered they had a dream, but couldn’t recall the dream itself, her memory grasped for the one piece of information to trigger the recollection. She removed pictures of Baby Girl Dossler and the infant’s mother, no doubt taken by Lela’s own mother. Why couldn’t she remember the baby’s name? Why had her mother not recorded it?

“Gabriel would remember,” Lela muttered to herself. She pulled out some maps from the file and potential living arrangements. One was circled. That must’ve been where they went. The small town was one Lela had been to as a child, but not since then, and only an hour and a half away. She made a mental note to consider taking a ride out there.

Her computer chimed at her softly as an email arrived in her account. She smiled widely upon seeing it was from James. It read: EXPECT TO BE HOME WEEK AFTER NEXT ( BUT PLANS CHANGE). I’LL LET YOU KNOW WHEN I HAVE FIRM DETAILS. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU. Lela answered the email quickly, hoping to catch him so they could have an actual conversation, but he was already gone. She left the files out on the desk, flipped off the lights and computer, and headed for the shower.

Brett awoke when the car stopped moving. They were in the parking lot of the first hotel and the officer with him exited the vehicle.

“I’m gonna ask the front desk if they’ve seen two men with a small girl.” he explained.

“Okay, but fly low, and instruct them not to speak openly about it, in case the kidnappers should overhear.”

“Right.”

Brett himself exited the vehicle and began casually strolling the parking lot. He pulled his keys out of his pockets, carrying them in his hand, as if he was walking to his car. Around the back of the building, he spotted one van of the correct make and model. He took down the license plate and met the officer at the front desk, handing it to him silently and then pretending to read the rack of travel brochures nearby: Dino-park, alligator wrestling, the largest tree in this hemisphere.

“A thriving metropolis,” he said under his breath. The officer joined him.

“That license plate is on the checkin forms for an older couple, a man and woman. He remembers them checking in and says they’ve been here for three days, out by the pool all day. They haven’t even left since they got here. Brett felt a bit foolish even going through the exercise, but any chance was better than no chance and he had some friends who said they had used psychics for some investigations before. Still, he didn’t expect a positive outcome, but knew it would gnaw at him if he didn’t at least try.

The next hotel they visited, the eighth on the list, was the most remote in town. Far from the interstate, the winding road to get there was pitch black with no street lamps to guide the way. As soon as they pulled in, Brett spotted a van in the far corner and had a strong feeling this might be the one.

“Park over there,” he instructed, “then we can look like we’re checking in.” As the car pulled into a spot just three spots down from the van, he noticed a flash of light as a curtain moved aside in one of the windows.

“We have no luggage,” he said, handing the officer one of his bags as he grabbed his backpack. Inside, the clerk confirmed the name of the man who had checked in.

“Just one man checked in, earlier today” the clerk explained, providing the name, which the officer promptly called into Felix Lee at the base location. He confirmed he hadn’t seen any children. Brett’s heartfelt heavy and he hoped with all hope that Harriman wasn’t right that the little girl was dead, but, of course, had no intention of mentioning that suspected fact to anyone.

“I’ll bet you he’s got his friend with him-probably snuck him in the stairwell door,” Brett said, checking his weapon. The officer hung up quickly.