Chickasaw County Captive

Chapter Fifteen

Sam clutched the cell phone more tightly as Kristen swerved around slow-moving traffic on I-59. He was on interminable hold, waiting for the preschool’s principal to come on the line. He’d made a call as soon as they got outside the hospital, but the principal had been out of the office and he’d had to leave a message. He’d spent the next twenty minutes certain that Jennifer Franks would return his call at any moment.

When she didn’t, he called again. The principal still wasn’t in her office, but this time, he told the secretary that he wasn’t hanging up until he talked to her boss.

“Still nothing?” Kristen asked, sounding as annoyed as he felt. “You’ve been on hold forever.”

Just then, there was a click on the other end of the line and Jennifer Franks’s breathless voice greeted him. “So sorry, Mr. Cooper. We’ve had a bit of an uproar I’ve been trying to get under control.”

Sam’s stomach twisted. “What kind of an uproar?”

“One of the children found a rather large snake on the playground a little while ago. We’re still trying to find out whether or not it’s harmless, and several of the children are very upset. We’ve had to call some parents.”

Sam tamped down his impatience. “I left a message with your secretary twenty minutes ago-I’m trying to locate Maddy. Did you get that message?”

“No, I’m sorry-my secretary just told me. Maddy’s class was outside for recess when the snake incident happened, but Maddy wasn’t one of the children involved.”

“Where is she now?”

“I assume she’s back in her classroom with her teacher.”

“You assume?”

Across the seat, Kristen muttered a profanity under her breath.

“I’ll check right now. Hold on a moment.”

“I’m on hold again,” Sam muttered.

“For God’s sake!” Kristen jerked the wheel, taking the Impala around a slow-moving coal truck at breakneck speed. “How hard is it to find one four-year-old?”

“Mr. Cooper?”

The fear he heard in Jennifer Franks’s voice made Sam’s blood freeze. “Tell me you found her safe and sound,” he said.

“I’m sorry. We don’t know how it happened.”

“What happened, damn it?”

Kristen shot him a look full of unadulterated terror.

“She didn’t return with the rest of her class after recess,” Jennifer answered, sounding sick. “We don’t know where she is.”

“Get your security guards to start searching every inch of the grounds.”

“I’ve already sent my assistant out to do just that. I don’t think we should panic yet, Mr. Cooper. It’s possible that she was there for the snake incident and ran away to hide because she was scared.”

He wished he could believe that, but he knew that snakes didn’t scare Maddy. He’d actually had to give her a lesson on not touching snakes unless a grown-up was there to supervise, for fear she’d end up trying to befriend a ground rattler or one of the bigger copperheads that roamed the woods near the lake.

“Please call me back with any news. I’m on my way.”

“Should we contact the police?”

“I’ll handle that,” Sam answered, ringing off only long enough to dial his brother-in-law’s cell phone number. A few moments later, Hannah’s husband answered. “Deputy Patterson.”

“Riley, it’s Sam. Maddy’s missing from her preschool and I’m about thirty minutes out. I need you to go there and supervise the search if you can.”

“Of course. What can you tell me?”

He outlined for his brother-in-law what Jennifer Franks had told him. “You know Maddy-a snake wouldn’t have scared her away. I’m afraid the man who tried to take her before may have gotten to her this time.”

“I thought Jefferson County had the guy in custody.”

“They have Darryl Morris in custody-but Cissy just woke up from her coma. She said Morris definitely isn’t the guy who attacked her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Riley growled. “Did she give you a description of who we are looking for?”

“I left as soon as I heard Morris wasn’t the guy. Detective Foley with the GRPD is still there taking her statement. Right now, we’re just looking for Maddy.”

“I’m about five minutes away from the preschool,” Riley said. “I’ll call you in a few.” He rang off.

Sam snapped his cell phone shut. “This isn’t happening.”

“This is my fault,” Kristen muttered, white-knuckling the steering wheel through the interstate traffic. “I knew in my gut Morris was too easy an answer, but I wanted to believe it was over.”

“We all did,” Sam said firmly. The last thing Kristen needed to do was second-guess herself now, when she needed to focus. “Don’t kick yourself. The evidence was there. We just didn’t know there were missing pieces.”

“Except Morris told us all along there was someone else involved,” Kristen said, her tone full of disgust. “I should have looked deeper.”

“You will now.”

She released a shaky breath, and for the first time Sam realized she was hovering on the edge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I never should have agreed to let Carl put me in charge of protecting Maddy. I knew it was a bad idea.”

“If you’d still been with Maddy, she wouldn’t be missing,” Sam replied. “You wouldn’t have taken your eye off her for even a second. So stop blaming yourself. We all thought she was out of danger.” He touched her shoulder. “I need you with me on this. I need your focus. Tell me you can do that.”

She spared him a quick look. “I can do that.”

They had reached their exit on the Interstate. They’d be at the school in ten minutes. Sam tried to keep his mind away from worst-case scenarios. The snake might not have scared Maddy, but she’d shown a hearty self-protective streak over the past few days, hiding first from the kidnapper and then from her mother when she’d felt threatened by Norah’s careless comments.

“Could she be hiding?” Kristen asked, her mind moving in tandem with his. “I know the snake wouldn’t have scared her, but maybe all the commotion spooked her?”

“Maybe.” He was afraid to hope. His gut was telling him it wouldn’t be that easy. Not this time.

Kristen killed the sirens about a block from the preschool. “The kids’ll be freaked out enough as it is.”

He slanted a look at her, wondering how she could possibly believe she wasn’t mother material. Even with all the uncertainty about Maddy’s whereabouts, Kristen had enough presence of mind to worry about the other children.

He hadn’t even given them a thought.

Riley Patterson was waiting for them at the front of the school, easy to spot thanks to his signature pearl-gray Stetson, a legacy of his native Wyoming. Sam could tell by the look on his brother-in-law’s face that the news wasn’t good.

“We’ve found her backpack in the bushes near the side gate.” Riley’s voice was tight. “And one of the security guards is missing.”

“Missing?” Sam frowned at Riley. “You think someone got rid of him to get to Maddy?”

“We’re not sure,” Riley said. “There’s no sign of a struggle, no blood or anything like that-”

“Where’s the backpack?” Kristen asked. She’d already pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

Riley gestured for them to follow. “I wanted to wait until you got here to take a look at it. You’d know what’s missing, if anything.” He led them around the side of the building, where a yellow barrier tape flapped lazily in the warm midday breeze. A handful of people from the neighborhood had gathered outside the fence, watching curiously as Sam, Kristen and Riley approached the backpack lying on its side near the bushes.

Sam felt moisture burning his eyes as he saw Maddy’s name written in faded denim letters stitched to the side of the backpack. Hannah had made those letters for Maddy out of a pair of old jeans and let Maddy help her stitch them to the bag.

His whole family had pitched in when he returned home to Alabama with his little girl, knowing how much harder her life was going to be without a mother there for her full-time. If something had happened to his baby-

Kristen’s warm hand slipped into his. He looked down at her and found her gazing up at him with scared blue eyes. But her jaw was squared and mingled with the fear was a bracing double shot of determination.

“Focus on the evidence,” she said. “You packed the bag for her this morning, right? Tell me if something’s missing.”

He squeezed her hand, grateful for her calming presence. He hunkered down with her as she crouched beside the backpack, watching her carefully open the bag to look inside.

“Bandit’s missing,” he said aloud, noticing the stuffed raccoon’s absence immediately. Maddy’s favorite toy had taken up most of the space in the bag.

“Her stuffed raccoon,” Kristen explained when Riley gave Sam a querying look. “She’s very attached.” She pulled the zipper down farther. There was a small gold change purse inside-empty, since Maddy had no concept of money. She only liked the little purse because of its shiny color.

Kristen picked up the purse, looking at it, her eyes damp. Sam put his hand on her back, and she shot him a grateful look. Putting the purse down, she opened one of the outside pockets. “Commander Patterson, do you have tweezers or something like that?”

“What is it?” Sam asked as Riley reached into his pocket and brought out a slim, leather-bound tool kit.

“It looks like a piece of paper.” Kristen took the tweezers Riley gave her and reached into the zippered pocket to withdraw a small piece of paper folded into four sections. Using the tweezers and the very tip of her gloved finger, she nudged the paper open.

There was writing inside, blocky letters just like the ones Sam had found on the back of the photos Darryl Morris had delivered to the D.A.’s office.

“‘Let’s make a deal,’” Kristen read aloud, her voice shaking. “‘Your life for hers.’”

Riley muttered a soft string of curses.

“What kind of sick game is this guy playing?” Kristen dropped the note into the clear plastic bag Riley had produced from his jacket pocket and started going through the other pockets with greater urgency, as if hoping she’d find something that would contradict the message she’d just discovered.

“I don’t think it’s a game,” Sam said thoughtfully, his initial fear beginning to subside. At least he could be pretty sure his daughter was still alive, if the man was talking about a trade. The fact that Bandit was missing also gave him hope; only someone who cared about Maddy’s emotional state would have bothered dragging the stuffed toy along with them.

Whoever had taken Maddy wanted her alive, as a pawn in his game, not as a victim. It wasn’t great news, but Sam would take it. It was a hell of a lot better than finding his daughter’s body under the bushes instead.

Riley put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m going to call this in and get a few more deputies down here. I’ll see if the DEA can spare Aaron, too.”

Sam stood and shook Riley’s hand. “Thanks, man. Call Hannah, too. She needs to let the rest of the family know what’s going on.”

As Riley went to make the radio call, Sam turned to Kristen. “Was there anything else in the backpack?”

Kristen shook her head. “That was it.”

“So he’s going to find a way to get in touch with me.”

Kristen pulled her gloves off and planted herself in front of him. “You’re not making a trade, Sam.”

“You can’t stop me.”

She moved even closer, her gaze locked with his. “If you try to make the deal, you’re just playing his game.”

“It’s the only game in town, Kristen.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, running his thumbs gently over the curve of her collarbone. “I will do anything for my daughter. Including die for her, if it comes to that.”

“I know that. But we can’t be stupid about this.”

“What am I supposed to do?” He felt some of his control begin to slip. “That man has my daughter. He holds all the cards here. We’re practically at square one now that Cissy’s eliminated Morris as a suspect.”

“No, we’re not.” Kristen closed her hands over his, her fingers warm and strong. “Cissy is giving Foley a description as we speak. And, you know, Darryl Morris may have been telling the truth about his accomplice. We may be able to get more information from him.”

Something that had been niggling at the back of Sam’s mind since he’d arrived at the preschool snapped into focus. “The missing guard,” he said.

Kristen’s brow creased for a second, then smoothed with a look of understanding. “The guard took Maddy.”

Sam nodded, his mind racing. “I’ve taught her about being wary with strangers, but she knows that someone in uniform is a person who can help her when she’s in trouble.”

“He used the snake situation as a distraction,” Kristen added. “Maybe he even engineered it himself.”

“And he was already in place, in a position of trust. Nobody was going to think twice about a security guard leading Maddy away from the confusion.” Sam shook his head. “How did he ever get a job here?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have any sort of record.” Kristen looked around, catching sight of Riley returning to the taped-off crime scene. “Deputy, can you keep an eye on the scene? We need to talk to the teachers and kids.”

Riley slipped under the tape. “Sure. I’ve got some men on the way. Aaron’s out of pocket,” he added, speaking to Sam, “but I left a message with the DEA for him.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, hurrying to catch up with Kristen, who was already halfway to the school entrance.

“HERE’S A PHOTOCOPY OF HIS driver’s license,” Jennifer Franks said, looking about ten years older than she had the last time Kristen had seen her, the day she’d answered questions about Darryl Morris. She handed the paper to Kristen.

“Grant Mitchell,” she read aloud, studying the grainy photo. Driver’s license photos were almost never flattering, and this one was no exception. The man in the photo was in his late forties or early fifties, with short-cropped brown hair and a handlebar mustache that made him look like a throwback to the Civil War era. The photocopy wasn’t the best quality, so it was impossible to make out much about the man’s eyes, nor could she read anything in his expression that might give her a clue to the man inside.

Though she was sure she’d never met the man before, he seemed vaguely familiar to her. She showed Sam the photocopy. “Anyone you know?”

He studied the paper, his brow creased with concentration. After a moment, he released a disappointed sigh. “No, I don’t think so.” He looked across the desk at Jennifer. “Is this photo a good likeness?”

“Drivers’ licenses never are,” Jennifer said. “But yes, I’d say that’s what he looks like, more or less.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Sam muttered.

Kristen laid her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Maybe we’re wrong about Grant Mitchell. He could be a victim here, too. Or maybe he just decided guarding preschoolers isn’t for him.” She took the photocopy from Sam and looked down at the driver’s license. “We could try his address-”

She stopped, rereading the address listed on the license. 1240 Copperhead Road. She slumped in her seat. “This address doesn’t exist,” she told Sam, showing him the photocopy. “There’s no 1240 Copperhead Road. Addresses on that road only go to the 900s.”

“What does that mean?” Jennifer asked.

“It means this license is a fake,” Sam answered.

AFTER ANOTHER HOUR AT THE school listening to Kristen, Riley and the rest of the officers and deputies who’d arrived on scene interviewing the other students and teachers, Sam had a much better idea of what had transpired that morning.

Kristen’s theory had proved right; at least three of the other students and one of the assistant teachers had noticed the guard leading Kristen away from the playground. Nobody had thought anything about it, assuming Maddy had become upset and the guard had decided to take her away from the commotion to calm her down.

“This guy knew just how to pull this off,” he murmured to Kristen later at his house. She’d suggested that they go there after they stopped at the police station to drop off the evidence and make extra copies of the security guard’s fake license. Kristen figured Grant Mitchell or whoever he really was would probably call Sam there with further instructions.

She sat on the sofa beside him, studying the photo. The Chickasaw County Sheriff’s Department had offered their services setting up a tap on the phone in case the kidnapper called, so there wasn’t much left for either of them to do but sit and wait to hear from the man who had his daughter.

“I keep thinking I’ve seen this guy before,” she said distractedly. “I don’t think I’ve met him, though. Just-seen him. Like maybe a photo or-” She stopped short, her brow furrowing. “I wonder-” She started to dig in her pockets of her jacket, first the left, then the right.

“What are you looking for?”

She came up empty-handed. “I may have left it in my other jacket at home. It was a photo that Dr. Sowell gave me-he’s the doctor who’s treating my mother at Darden. Anyway, he gave me a copy of a screen grab from the surveillance cameras at the facility, a picture of the man who visited my mother the other day-the one who took her that newspaper clipping about the attack on Cissy and Maddy.”

Sam felt the first niggle of hope he’d had in a couple of hours. “Could it have been the same man?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t have a mustache, and I don’t think his hair was as dark as the guy calling himself Grant Mitchell.” She gave a little growl of frustration. “Where is that damned photo?”

“Could it be in your car?” Sam suggested.

“I’ll go look.” She jumped up from the sofa and ran out the door.

Sam picked up the photocopy and stared at the phony driver’s license, trying to picture the man with lighter hair and no mustache. A memory danced around the shadowy edges of his mind but wouldn’t come out into the light.

His cell phone beeped, the signal for a text message. He pulled his phone from his pocket and punched a couple of buttons. Five words showed up in the display window:

BELLEWOOD MFG 730 2NITE ALONE.

Sam’s heart stuttered, then began to race.

Kristen burst through the front door, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Found it.” She crossed the room in a coltish bound and dropped onto the sofa beside him.

He quickly tucked his phone into his pocket. Alone, the message had said.

No one else could know.

“Any news?” Kristen asked, following his movement with her sharp blue eyes.

He shook his head, trying to look calm even though his insides had turned to ice. “Nothing. Is that the picture?”

She showed him the grainy photo. The photo showed only the side of the man’s face, but it was enough. The elusive memory that had been nagging him for the past few minutes crashed into full view, bringing with it both enlightenment and a heavy, crushing sense of despair. He knew the man in the photo. And now he understood the meaning of “Your child for mine.”

Ten years ago, at a snowy staging area in Kaziristan, Sam had killed this man’s son.