Due east. Three men. One shorter and white. Two big guys — brothers. Both black. One always playing with a knife. Help.
He walked back outside and meandered back into the manager
’
s office where Jones was transferring over the last few megabytes from the security camera footage file.
“Look what I found,” Zellers said, holding up Luke
’
s note.
“Any good intel?” Jones asked.
Zellers shook his head. “It
’
s nothing we don
’
t already know, but at least the kid is thinking. Maybe he can leave us some more clues that will help us find him.”
Mr. Gordon licked his fingers dripping with sandwich juice. “Who is this Luke kid? Must belong to somebody pretty important?”
Zellers gave him a death stare. “Don
’
t utter a word about this to anyone. We know where you live, Mr. Gordon.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Oh, do you now?”
Zellers glanced down at the man
’
s grease-stained timecard on his desk and hoped that Matthews was listening.
“Yes, Mr. Archibald Gordon. I know exactly where you live.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And where
’
s that?”
“
Give me a second,
” Shepherd said as he tapped on his keyboard. “Almost there.” Another pause. “Got it. 1694 West Turpentine Lane, Cambridge.”
“Maybe after I leave here, we should pay a visit to 1694 West Turpentine Lane in Cambridge. Maybe you have some illegal contraband lying around.”
Zellers watched as the man swallowed hard. “No, no. That won
’
t be necessary. I believe you. I won
’
t say a word about this to anyone.”
“
You better not.
”
They stared at the footage for a few moments.
“Wait. Stop it right there,” Hammond said.
The clerk froze. “Right where?”
“Go back a few seconds.”
The clerk obliged, backing up the video.
“Right there,” Hammond said.
The video played again, displaying an image of Luke rubbing his wrists.
“He looks like he
’
s in good shape, but he
’
s rubbing his wrists.”
Matthews nodded. “So these monsters tied him up and threw him in the trunk.”
“That
’
s what it looks like,” Hammond added.
“
Well, let
’
s get going,” Matthew said. Then to the clerk, “Can we get a copy of this?”
“Sure. Whatever you need,” stammered the clerk.
“
Load up,
” Matthew said. “I
’
ll wait for the video.”
Matthews watched the men exit the room as the clerk took the thumb drive from Matthews
’
hand and jammed it into the surveillance system.
“You do this often?” the clerk asked.
“What? Retrieve kidnapped people?”
The clerk nodded.
“Not all the time, but it goes with the territory.”
“The territory of what?”
“The territory of protecting people. This young man is like a son to me and I
’
ll be damned if I
’
m going to let these monsters get away with him.”
The clerk pulled the thumb drive out of the computer and handed it to Matthews. “
Good luck.
”
Matthews nodded and headed out the door toward their vehicles. He looked at his watch and rubbed his forehead.
They didn
’
t have much time.
CHAPTER 14
LUKE DANIELS CRINGED WHEN HE heard an all-too familiar sound penetrating and rattling the windowpanes in his room. And he feared what it might mean. He never associated the pulsating beat of a helicopter with anything but panic. The “whirlybirds”, as his father called them, transported government people, important people. Just the thought of climbing onto one caused his stomach to gurgle and bile to surge up his throat. It
’
s how his father picked him up one day from school several years ago when a credible threat came into his office that someone was going to kidnap his son. Now, his father
’
s greatest fear had come true — and Luke was undoubtedly about to be forced to get into the contraption and go somewhere. Somewhere the kidnappers probably believed to be untraceable.
You don
’
t know my uncle.
Luke smiled and scoured the room for a writing utensil. Faded images of Raggedy Ann and Andy decorated the wall. A plush bear sat slumped against the far wall, his stuffing oozing out through his eyes. In the center of the room was a table, one Luke imagined a little girl used for hosting imaginary tea parties with Bear and other dolls and stuffed friends. But he couldn
’
t write on any of them, even if he had something to write with.
Luke peered under the bed and beneath an empty bookcase in the corner. He didn
’
t care if he had to scratch something into a sheet of paper — if he could even find one of those.
Jackpot.
In the corner of the room beneath the rickety bed, Luke found the nub of a golf pencil and a book. He cringed as he ripped a page out of the book, even if it was only the title page. Then he started writing.
His pace quickened as he heard footfalls on the steps leading up to his room — even above the twisting blades of the helicopter now safely on the ground less than a hundred yards away from the house.
With each thud on the steps, Luke worked more feverishly until he heard two feet stop on the landing and a small shadow darkened the slit inches off the ground beneath his door. Behind his back, he folded up the paper and jammed it under one of the back legs on the small table in the center of the room.
The door swung open slowly and Dave stood there, frozen. “Let
’
s go, kid.”
Luke watched the man
’
s eyes as he glanced around the room.
What is he looking for?
Without hesitating, Luke jumped up and ran for the bear, snatching the stuffed animal by the arm as cotton spilled out onto the floor.
“
You can
’
t take that, kid,” Dave said sternly. “Leave it.”
Luke knelt down as if he were putting down Bear softly. Dave watched him bend down and didn
’
t move. That was the opening Luke needed.
He thrust upward before lunging toward the door and diving past Dave
’
s outstretched arms. Luke rolled forward for a few feet and then galloped down the stairs before dashing through the front doors toward the helicopter. He hadn
’
t run more than ten feet away from the house before he felt a powerful hand grab the back of his shirt and yank him backward. Luke
’
s head and feet snapped backward as they followed the rest of his body before Dave slung him to the ground.
The other two assailants laughed as Dave towered above Luke with one foot on the bear and the other on Luke
’
s chest.
“
I said, no dolls,
” he roared.
Luke didn
’
t try to move. He waited until Dave lifted his foot from his chest. Yet before Luke could push himself up, Dave snatched the front of his shirt and lifted him onto his feet.
“No more funny business,” he warned as he glanced at the bear, its head nearly empty of any stuffing.
Luke nodded and watched a few wisps of cotton roll across the front yard and toward the woods.
Dave bent down and picked up the bear. “What makes this little guy so important?” he yelled above the helicopter beats. He proceeded to rip the bear apart, exposing its innards and strewing them across the ground. He shook it to make sure there was nothing hidden in it.
Dave shook his head and threw the limp shell of the bear at Luke. “Let
’
s go.”
Luke clambered to his feet, ignoring the furry material next to him. It was never about the bear itself. He suppressed a smile and put his head down as he walked toward the helicopter.
Then another yank from behind, this time Dave had grabbed his shirt but instead was pointing him in another direction.
“With me, kid,” he growled. “This way.”
They re-entered the house as Dave forced him toward a room in the back. Just outside a door, they stopped.
Dave put his hand on the cracked door and gave it a nudge.
Creaking as it opened, the door swung wide to reveal a scene that made Luke shudder. An elderly couple, in their seventies perhaps, both lay on the bed, eyes open and expressionless. The blood had oozed through single gunshot holes in their foreheads, leaving them a crimson-stained mess partially covered by a once-white comforter.
Luke put both his hands to his face, hiding his slack-jawed expression.
“Try anything like that again,” Dave said as he gestured toward the couple, “and you might end up just like them. Got it?”
Luke nodded.
Dave snatched another swath of Luke
’
s shirt and shoved him in the direction of the front porch. He prodded Luke with his gun — and Luke didn
’
t hesitate to obey.
As he prepared to board, Luke put one knee on the helicopter and readied to thrust himself forward into the aircraft. But before he could, he felt a sudden forceful kick in his butt. He sprawled face-first into the helicopter and slid a few feet until his entire body was inside. The other two men cackled with delight.
Wild-eyed and grinning, Dave pulled himself aboard and glared at Luke.
“
Buckle up, punk,
” he said.
Luke worked to assemble the five-part harness with little success. No one even noticed that he hadn
’
t finished it yet before they signaled to the pilot that they were ready for liftoff. Luke lurched forward as the harness
’
slack gave way. With both hands put out instinctually, he caught himself against the seat in front of him and pushed himself back into his seat as the helicopter held steady.
“
Quit foolin
’
around, kid,” one of the men snapped.
Luke regained his composure and finished buckling in as the helicopter took a sharp right turn over the woods above the house where they
’
d been staying. He rubbed his hands on his knees in an attempt to keep them dry. The rickety harness was the only thing keeping him from dropping out of the sky and crashing through a thick forest of pine trees.
He looked back at the farmhouse and the contents of the bear spackled across the yard. Despite what he
’
d just seen, he allowed himself to smile. He needed to. What appeared like a meaningless gesture with a stuffed bear may have secured his rescue. That is, if he could avoid the same fate of the owners of the farmhouse.
CHAPTER 15
DAVIS SHEPHERD TAPPED HIS TOES on the floorboard of the vehicle and squealed with delight. He grinned as he stared at his computer. “Now, that
’
s what I
’
m talking about.”
“Do you have any concern for my hearing?” Zellers fired back over the com.
Hammond laughed.
“So, did you finally move up to the next level in World of War Craft?”
Shepherd rolled his eyes. “Do you think I can even think about something like that during a time like this?”
“What happened then?” Hammond said. “I can
’
t exactly see your screen from here.”
“It pays to have friends,”
Shepherd answered.
“You have friends — like, real ones that don
’
t live in a virtual world somewhere?” Hammond asked.
“Very funny,”
Shepherd said.
“Gretchen is a friend,” he paused before continuing, “who I happened to meet on a gaming site. But she is real. I
’
ve seen a picture of her.”
“I bet she
’
s hot,” Zellers said.
“I
’
d use something more like sophisticated and intelligent. Not many people can do what she
’
s done in such a short amount of time on Warcraft.”
“I knew it,” Hammond said. “
Girl geek.
”
“Yes,”
Shepherd said.
“
Girl geek
— but also girl geek who is a professional hacker.”