Nodding agreement, Ann checked her watch; it was getting late. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Banning. The lemonade was wonderful, but I must take my leave now.”
“Oh, but you haven’t even eaten any cookies!”
“I’m sure they’re wonderful as well,” Ann said, holding up the melting cookie.
“Take some with you!” the woman insisted.
Ann didn’t protest as Mrs. Banning wrapped several cookies in a napkin and handed it to her. With another hasty thank you, Ann tucked the melting cookie into the napkin with the rest and stuffed the whole bundle into her suit pocket, making a mental note to move them to her purse as soon as she reached her car. They would not do well in her pocket during the long drive back to the D.C. area.
As she dashed to her car, the case details tumbled through Ann’s head, making her worry.
Oh, Rachel, what have you gotten yourself into this time?
Chapter 7
Bridge Rendezvous
Brooklyn Bridge to Parker’s Base of Operations
New York City, New York
At precisely noon on that gloomy June Saturday, the week Chris Collins’s life was once again upended, he waited on the Brooklyn Bridge. Rain started falling steadily, adding to his misery. Briefly, he pondered just jumping off and taking his chances with the long drop and swift waters. It would certainly solve his problems, but thoughts of Rachel and the kids kept him from embracing the irrational solution. He couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t take the coward’s way out and let them suffer at the hands of his former friend.
“Dr. Collins, I presume,” said a youthful male voice.
“That’s not funny,” Chris said, turning to face the hooded figure that appeared beside him. “You must be Evan. I suppose you’ll show me where to go.”
Maybe I can redeem myself and get back at him.
“It’s good to finally meet you, sir,” Evan said.
Chris was surprised at the deep admiration he heard.
What’s he been telling you about me?
It started raining harder.
“Mr. Parker says you have a lot to teach us.” The young man shouted to be heard above the driving rain.
Very funny, Chris thought when he heard the name.
“He also says your family is fine and will remain so if you follow instructions. If all goes well, you’ll be given a few million dollars and a ticket to anywhere in the world.”
“What about my family?”
“Mr. Parker says—”
“I’m not doing anything until I know they’re all right and I get his word that my entire family leaves with me!” The rain lost momentum suddenly, making Chris feel stupid for shouting.
“The details will be worked out later, but you can have your confirmation now,” said the kid, handing Chris a cell phone. “It’s only set to make this one call, and its mate is only set to receive this one call. You have five minutes.”
Chris eagerly hit the ‘send’ button. At Evan’s suggestion, he pressed another button to set the phone to speaker status. He couldn’t even tell which area code he was dialing since the phone’s display remained disturbingly blank. His hand trembled and he felt about a hundred years old. “Hello? Rachel, are you there?”
At first nothing happened, but then suddenly his wife’s lovely face appeared on the tiny screen. A burst of emotions rendered speech impossible. Chris spent the moments studying his wife, trying to absorb her wonderful features. Her beautiful eyes gazed back at him, and her expression said words were avoiding her as well. Tear tracks followed the curvature of her face all the way to the tip of her chin. Fresh tears suddenly gushed down those well-worn tracks. She looked physically and emotionally drained. Her lips were drawn into a thin line. Her hair was mussed, like she had just awakened from a series of violent dreams.
“How are you, darling?” Chris asked softly.
Stupid, stupid question, he silently berated himself. Seconds continued to slip by. You’re wasting time! Chris whipped his mind into sharp focus.
“Listen, I’m going to get this all straightened out. I promise. Look, I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m begging you to trust me. Please, Rachel, I’ve done some wrong things, but I swear I’ll make everything right.”
She was speaking but he couldn’t hear a word.
“Say that again.”
“The audio connection’s only one way,” Evan informed with irritating good cheer.
Rachel spoke again. Chris wanted to read “I love you” on her lips but her message was more urgent. He missed it the first time but caught it the second and third times.
Clever lady; we’ll get out of this yet.
“Believe me. I never wanted this to come back. I’m so sorry for getting you involved. I’ll explain everything one day, I promise.” A sob lodged like a ball of fire in his throat, burning him from the inside out.
“Times up in thirty seconds,” Evan warned.
That wasn’t five minutes!
Chris could see his wife weeping. Despite the minuscule screen, he read the emotions playing across her face: fear, love, joy, loss, and a whole host of others. Swallowing a painful lump in his throat, Chris said, “I love you. I’ll do everything I can to get us out of this. Be brave for Jay and Emily.” He saw her nod and wipe at more tears. “That’s my girl. I love you, never doubt that.” They spent the last few precious seconds in silence. Suddenly, Chris found himself staring at a tiny room. Pale dirt, lots of dust, and bits of hay and grass stuck out in his mind.
Thanks, Rach. I’ll find you, I swear.
The screen went black.
Chris looked at Evan for further instructions. Without the rain, he could see that Evan was physically about eighteen, but the kid’s cold eyes spoke of too many years of hard living. Slowly and painfully, Chris pushed thoughts of his family aside to concentrate on earning their freedom. “Lead on.”
“Toss the phone,” Evan instructed.
Chris did so promptly. He could have tucked the phone away and still made Evan think he was following the instruction, but he decided full cooperation would serve his family better for the time being. Besides, he’d gotten all there was to get from the phone. He wouldn’t soon forget Rachel, her tiny prison, or her hidden message.
During the long trip to their Manhattan destination, Chris listened as Evan described Mr. Parker’s wishes. Chris had conjured the original plan during a wilder time in his life, but then he’d met Rachel and decided to follow a different path. Obviously, his friend still thought it was a good idea.
Chris wore an odd combination of old jeans, worn T-shirt, and expensive suit jacket. As they walked through dangerous areas, he felt menacing eyes watching him. He almost wished somebody would try something, just so he could release some anger. He didn’t look physically impressive, but he knew how to handle himself in hand-to-hand combat.
Finally, Evan entered an old, abandoned-looking building.
Just like him to choose such a cheery place, Chris thought as he followed the kid down a labyrinth of hallways.
At last, they came to a door sporting a fancy electronic lock. Evan calmly disengaged the lock with a long code, pushed the door open, and motioned Chris inside. There wasn’t an abandoned thing about this room. It was completely modernized, right down to the clean white walls.
He always did have an obsession with white.
The number of people strolling about surprised Chris. Men and women hurried around like they had pressing business.
Evan called the room to attention, and gradually, the din subsided. “Mr. Parker has finally come through on his promise. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present our tutor: Dr. Collins.”
Chris ran a critical eye over his class. They were a youthful and colorful bunch.
He still likes his crew well-rounded, I guess.
To a man—or woman—they looked eager to learn and had a greedy glint in their eyes.
“I’m assuming you’ve all been vetted for this. I
t’s going to take some careful coordination. Rule number one, follow my instructions implicitly. One mistake can ruin everything.” Chris sighed. “Okay, people, clear the room. Come back in half an hour. I’ll give you each your assignments, we’ll practice for three hours, break for dinner, and practice some more. When we get it right, we’ll do the real deal.”
Cheers and whistles rose from all around the room. Being back in command felt surprisingly good, but Chris couldn’t shake the gloomy feeling of being manipulated.
Is this really the best way to save Rachel, Jay, and Em?
Chapter 8
Strange Place
Corra Compound
Stanley County, South Dakota
Saturday morning, Rachel Collins woke up to find a woman holding a breakfast tray hovering near her bed. “What time is it?”
“Nine thirty-five,” the woman answered automatically. Color drained from her face and she pursed her lips as if that could prevent more harmful words from slipping out. Casting one more frightened glance at Rachel, the woman dumped the breakfast tray onto the rickety little end table near the head of the bed and fled.
Shrugging at the woman’s weird behavior, Rachel set the second time on her watch accordingly. Her hunger overrode picky taste buds. She ate the rubbery eggs and burnt toast and recalled her second wretched night in this place. As usual, questions held the key to her misery. Why did they take me? Are my children okay? Did I do something wrong? God, are you there? The more she thought, the worse she felt. Though she tried to stop the self-pitying tears, they flowed rather freely.
About a half-hour later, three men with guns barged in. One tossed some clean clothes onto the bed. A second shoved a phone at her. The third simply stood in the doorway with folded arms, wearing a bored expression.
“What’s this for?” Rachel asked, looking from one man to the others and back again.
They ignored her.
The phone rang, and Rachel suddenly found herself juggling the phone. Once she had it under control, she unfolded it and looked at the blank screen. A red light began blinking then stayed on once she’d accepted the call. Chris’s voice floated out of the phone. He sounded far away and distressed, but the blessed familiarity of his voice brought happy tears to her eyes. As he babbled about right, wrong, and love, she wondered if he could see her. On the off chance that he could, she lowered her head so that her hair flowed in front of her face. Then, behind that temporary veil, she mouthed the time. He asked her to repeat the message and she did so several times. Next, she let herself cry more freely and dropped her hand out of seeming despair. Surreptitiously, she twisted the phone so that the camera would catch as much of the tiny room as possible. She didn’t know why she bothered, but it was the only thing she could think to do.
Three minutes later, Rachel Collins clutched the phone tightly and stared off into space. She didn’t care that the three men still crowded her tiny room. Light from the open doorway flooded the room, and tiny dust particles danced about happily.
Now what do I do, God?
As if in answer to her question, one of the men spoke. “Dr. Collins, you’re to come with us on a tour of Corra.”
So they can speak. What the heck’s Corra?
Rachel would have loved to give them a hard time, but she was all funned out from the emotional ringer. Instead, she meekly struggled to her feet. “Lead on,” she said, taking one step toward the door.
One man made a stopping motion. “Change first,” he said, gesturing to the forgotten clothes.
Rachel gave him a pointed look.
With an acknowledging grunt, he nodded to the others, and the men exited the room.
Rachel longed for a hot shower. Nevertheless, the fresh clothes felt magnificent. Prying her tattered stockings off took a full three minutes. The new clothes were plain but comfortable. Beige slacks, a casual blouse, and flat shoes that fit her perfectly. She frowned at the thought of her captors knowing her clothes and shoe sizes.
Cautiously stepping into the bright sunlight, Rachel slowly stretched her arms above her head.
Hey, I can even stand up without falling over. What a wonderful improvement.
Looking around, Rachel saw eight identical, one-story housing units standing in two neat rows off to her right side. Straight ahead, she saw a large, plain building. Four more buildings rose up on her left. Her tiny prison aligned with two of them. She noticed the compound made a giant rectangle. All of the buildings were white, marred with dust and dirt, and had grass and hay scattered across their black roofs. The long stalks caused the buildings to blend in nicely with the wide expanses of arid grassland surrounding them in all directions. Shielding her eyes and looking diagonally across a large open space, Rachel noticed a well-kept house with what appeared to be former army barracks sitting next to it.
“Ready for the tour?” asked a man. He was actually sort of handsome, but the perpetual scowl didn’t help him in that regard. His short, dark hair, coal-black eyes, and small scar above one eyebrow gave him the look of a pirate. He grinned nastily.
“Don’t go gettin’ no stupid ideas, Jense,” warned a younger man cheerfully.
Rachel remembered the name. She did a double take and her hands formed fists. Participate in my kidnapping, will ya? She clenched her teeth to keep her tongue from getting her in trouble. Leave revenge to God.
Can’t I have just one swing, God? With much effort, Rachel forced her thoughts away from the man with the scar and concentrated on the man who had spoken.
“The boss’ll kill you if ya so much as look at the lady wrong,” the happy guy continued. He was shorter than his companions, probably only about five feet, seven inches tall, and he was the only one wearing a smile. Soft brown hair poked out from under a wide-rimmed cowboy hat. His eyes matched his hair, and he spoke with a soft Southern twang.
He’s a bit young to be mixed up with this nasty crowd.
Though Rachel only had a vague idea of her location, the wide open spaces and abundance of short grasses ruled out most Southern states, except maybe Texas. Despite the cowboy hat, Rachel honestly doubted he was a Texas boy.
The third man, the one who had handed her the phone, had a much abused nose that currently sported a butterfly bandage across the bridge. His blond hair was pulled back into a greasy pony tail. Rachel wondered if it had been washed in the last six months. He wore a gold earring and four chains around his scrawny neck. “We pass your examination, Doc?” he asked with a sneer. He made a hocking noise and spat, narrowly missing Rachel’s left foot as she jumped back.
“That’s right, Dace. Impress the lady with those fine spittin’ skills. If she slaps you, I ain’t saying nothin’.”
The happy boy removed his cowboy hat and addressed her. “Good morning, ma’am, I’m Logan Dales.” He suddenly looked shy. “Sorry about all this, but Mr. Parker’s got some business matters he needs yer husband’s cooperation with.”
Rachel didn’t know quite how to answer that. “Um, thanks, Logan. This is a bit stressful.”
I’m surrounded by ugly, gun-wielding maniacs and my children are out of sight!
Before she could object, they whisked her off on a hasty tour. Walking left, they passed more ‘guest’ rooms, the bathroom, and the showering facilities. She let them explain but didn’t pay close attention. Each building blended in with the surrounding area.
What are they afraid of?
Next, they walked by a storage barn. Then, they came to the computer lab. Rachel mentally noted its position. Here, they turned right and walked along the wall of the long building.
“This is home sweet home to me an’ the rest of the boys,” Logan said, dutifully playing tour guide. “That’s where the boss lives with his mistress.” They cut across diagonally to the largest building. “You’ll be spendin’ most of your time here,” said Logan as they entered a long hallway.
“Time for work,” Dace said, shoving Rachel through a doorway midway down the hall.
S
he stumbled over the threshold into a four-bed clinic.
Logan just shook his head sadly, and let it go.
“When will I see my children?”
“You just saw them yesterday,” Jense pointed out. “If you’re real good—”
“Shut yer trap, Jense,” the young man said indignantly. “I don’t rightly know much about the visitin’ schedule, ma’am, but I’ll ask the boss about it.”
Mumbling thanks, Rachel tried to sort more thoughts about this nightmare. She had recognized the pristine white hallways as the ones she had been carried through before her conversation with Mr. Parker. Again, the building’s cleanliness caught her attention.
Odd for a place stuck in the middle of dusty nowhere.
It didn’t take a genius to comprehend what her job would be. A nurse listlessly attended a Hispanic man with a bullet wound in his chest. Being a medical doctor in a private practice in Western PA, Rachel had little experience with gunshot wounds. The nurse brightened considerably upon seeing Rachel. Hastily, she finished wrapping the chest bandage.
After introductions, Nurse Megan Jenson briefed Rachel on the clinic.
The days slipped by fairly pleasantly for Rachel, considering the circumstances. The clinic work kept her hands busy as her mind formulated escape plans. Megan’s twin two-year-olds caught colds, and the cranky boys kept both women jumping. Each afternoon, Rachel got to spend time with Jason and Emily.
Midday on the Tuesday before the Thursday that would mark the one week anniversary of the kidnapping, Megan suddenly stopped folding towels and sobbed. Not knowing what else to do, Rachel comforted her as she would Jason or Emily. She gently guided Megan to the nearest cot. The man with the gunshot wound had left the day before so they had the clinic to themselves.