Authors: Margaret Daley
“Please let us know what's going on. The hardest part of all this is not knowing.”
“Neil, I'll call when I have some news. I promise.”
As the door closed behind her, Madison hugged her arms to her, a tremor rippling down her body. Bright sunlight contradicted the mood of the town. A pall hung over Crystal Springs.
As she made her way to her car, a bird trilled in a nearby oak, lush with green leaves. Last year she had admired the cleanliness and well-kept feel of Crystal Springs. She'd even thought it would be a nice place to retire one day. Scanning the landscape, she saw the same tidy lawns, recently painted houses and beds teeming with flowers. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had.
An evil presence had invaded Crystal Springs. Quaking, she slipped behind her steering wheel. For a second she thought of switching on the heater even though the temperature outside was in the low seventies. Coldness embedded deep in her bones as though the wickedness wrapped itself around her.
Day three, 10:30 p.m.: Ashley missing fifty-two hours
Blackness shrouded the terrain before J.T. He focused on the pain shooting down his back from the tightly corded muscles in his neck and shoulders. Any
thing to take his mind off his mounting doubtâand fear this wouldn't work.
He hefted the duffel bag from the backseat of his Jeep. The sound of his car door slamming closed echoed through the eerie quiet. He couldn't even hear the water lapping against the shore ten yards away because the night was so motionless. There was not a wisp of a breeze, as if everything had come to a standstill and was waiting.
The hairs on his nape stood up. He was being watched by the Feds, but who else? This whole setup didn't feel right. After receiving the second call from the kidnapper, they'd had hours to stake out the drop-off point. It was pitch black out here now, but something else was going on, he was sure of it.
At least Neil and Kim were being guarded not only by Kirk but also Rachel at the Fitzpatricks'. So if this had been a ploy to get to his other children, it wasn't going to work.
A cloud slithered across the half-moon. J.T. switched on his flashlight. With no town lights nearby on this remote part of the lake, he carefully picked his way toward the shoreline. Something caught his boot and he stumbled forward. Catching himself, he directed the beam of light at his feet, his fear rising to lodge in his throat. A large root stuck out of the ground. Relief washed over him and his rigid stance sagged for a few seconds. He stepped over the obstacle and continued to move forward.
At the edge of the lake J.T. stared out over the water. His flashlight illuminated its smooth surface near him. He knew one team of agents was out on the lake nearby in case the kidnapper came by boat while the other two were on land. In addition to those teams, there were
more at a distance, forming a wide perimeter around this location on the water and land.
As instructed, J.T. plopped the bag at the foot of a large pine three feet from the water, then began to retrace his steps to his Jeep. The kidnapper hadn't said anything about not bringing in the police, but he had made it clear that if he didn't get the money and get back to Ashley, she would die. That was why he had insisted that the Feds not touch the man when he took the bag of money. They were hidden well. Would it work? Could they track the kidnapper to where Ashley was being heldâif the man even returned to her?
The hardest thing he had to do in all this was to drive away and not stay to see what happened, not to be involved in the stakeout. He had made Madison promise to call him immediately with any news while he sat at his office, as per the kidnapper's instructions to him. As he pulled onto the highway leading into town, he wanted so badly to double back, but if the kidnapper was watching him, that could cost Ashley her life. He kept his Jeep pointed toward Crystal Springs. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they hurt, intensifying the pain and leaving a burning trail down his back.
Day three, 1:30 a.m.: Ashley missing fifty-five hours
Her muscles locked in place, Madison maneuvered to ease the ache in her legs from squatting for hours. Her arms felt as though they weighed a ton from holding up the night-vision binoculars. A thicket of brush surrounded her. The scent of damp vegetation tickled her
nose and several times she'd had to catch herself before sneezing because of the moldy odor.
“There's movement out on the water. A boat.” A voice came through her earpiece. She swung the binoculars over the lake, visible from her vantage point. In the distance a craft came toward the shore at a fast speed. Suddenly when it was only twenty or so feet away, the boat veered to the right and made a tight U-turn.
“We've been spotted. Do you want us to follow the boat?”
“Stay put. I'll radio the others around the lake to pick up the boat and follow it at a distance. It could be a trick,” Matthew Hendricks answered the two agents on the water.
She swung her binoculars to the base of the pine tree. The bag of money was still there. The roar of the speedboat's engine faded in the distance. One of the teams patrolling the perimeter of the lake would pick up the craft and discover where it was headed. Until they heard back, they had to stay and stake out the money.
Again Madison moved to make herself more comfortable. A limb stuck into her back. She scooted forward away from the pointy branch. It was going to be a
long
night.
Day three, 4:30 a.m.: Ashley missing fifty-eight hours
J.T. slammed down the phone. The kidnapper got spooked, and the money was still sitting in the bag on the beach under the tree six hours after he'd made the drop.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then rubbed them down his face. Ashley was doomed.
They couldn't even find a trace of the speedboat that was used. Gone. Vanished into thin air, just like Ashley. He realized there were miles and miles of shoreline, but still the FBI had enough teams to cover the area.
What had gone wrong?
He'd taken a risk with his daughter's life, and he'd lost.
With elbows on his desk, J.T. buried his face in his hands, his eyes burning from another night without any rest. He didn't know if he would ever really get a good night's sleep again. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Ashley's face and heard her last words to him.
Daddy, where are you?
He collapsed back in his chair. Instead of being stuck here waiting, he should have been out there. Then maybe they would have found the speedboat. He knew the area better than most.
Drop off the money, leave immediately and go back to your office to wait for my call to tell you where Ashley is.
He'd never forget the kidnapper's last instructions before cutting the connection. He'd done what he was supposed to do, and yet no Ashley.
Lord, where are You?
Suddenly for the first time in six years the urge to find a store and buy any kind of alcoholic beverage he could get inundated him. He fished the keys to his Jeep out of his front pocket. The hand that held them quivered. He curled it into a fist and brought it to his lap.
Drinking wouldn't bring Ashley back. It would only dull the pain temporarily. He'd found that out the hard way six years ago.
Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic.
He could still remember those words being shouted at him by his wife, Lindsay, not hours before she was hit by a car while walking off her anger at him. The police had never found who had struck her, but even if they had, he couldn't have blamed that person for his wife's death. Not really. The guilt was his. She'd been out walking after dark, so angry she probably wasn't even paying attention to her surroundings. And he was the one who had made her that angry.
When Lindsay had been killed, he'd thought he had hit rock bottom. But he hadn't. He'd still had a ways to go in order to begin the climb up out of the abyss he was in. It had taken waking up one day in an alley, beaten, unable to remember how he had even gotten there to realize he had a problem. Thankfully he had hired an excellent live-in housekeeper to watch his children because what had started out as an occasional drink had become an addiction for him. All he had craved was alcohol to the exclusion of his work and family.
J.T. stuffed the keys back in his front pocket. No, he couldn't fall apart right now. Ashley was still aliveâshe had to beâand needed him to find her.
A soft rap at his door brought him around. “Come in.”
Madison entered his office, tiny lines of exhaustion feathering outward from her blue eyes, flat from lack of sleep. “Matthew ordered me to get some rest. Of course, that's nearly impossible with all that happened. He left half the teams in place, but he figures with dawn approaching the kidnapper isn't going to show up.” She plopped in the chair to the side of his desk, an arm's length away. “Actually he's pretty sure we scared him totally away.”
“How in the world did that happen? I thought you were going to be concealed.” He heard the savage ring to his words and clamped his jaws together to keep from saying anything more that he would regret.
“We were. I think the kidnapper had night-vision goggles like we did. That's about the only way he could have seen the agents in the boat hidden behind that abandoned dock. It was pitch-dark out there on the water.”
“How did he escape the other boats?”
Madison lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know. You would think this guy knows something we don't. It's as if he just vanished on the lake. A figment of our imaginations.”
“Could anyone see him? Make out any of his features?”
She shook her head. “He wore a black ski mask or something like that. It was hard to tell.” She massaged the knot of tension forming on the side of her neck. “He may still call again.”
J.T. shot her a piercing look. “Who are you kidding? Our chance is over. WeâI blew it.”
“I don't understand this whole situation. He waited two days to ask for a ransom. He had you leave the money in an isolated part of the lake with a lot of hiding places to conceal us. He gave us hours to get set up to wait for him. Either this man is very dumb, which I don't believe, or he is up to something else I haven't been able to figure out.”
“How about to torment me further?”
“Maybe. That would fit in with someone you put away in prison.”
“Yes, it does.” J.T. scraped his hand over the stubble of his three-day-old beard. He knew he looked a sight,
but he just didn't care. “I need to tell Kim and Neil what happened.”
“I'd like to come with you.”
“You should get that rest your boss ordered you to get.”
“It isn't gonna happen. You should get some yourself.”
“It isn't gonna happen.” He shoved to his feet. “I don't want to wake them if they actually went to sleep last night. Care to walk to Emma and Colin's? I could use the fresh air. Maybe it will clean out the cobwebs in my mind.”
“That might do me some good, too. Crouching in that thicket most of the night made me stiff all over. Walking should help loosen me up again.”
J.T. offered her his hand. The softness of her skin against his jolted him and caused him to pull harder than he should have. Madison came up too fast and nearly knocked him back into his chair. He managed to catch himself and steady her against him. He took a deep breath. The scent of apples and cinnamon surrounded him. An interesting combination. Again he was reminded of a piece of apple pie.
The realization he continued to hold her longer than necessary stunned him momentarily. What was he doing? Quickly he separated from her, trying not to inhale too deeply. Her scent was playing havoc with his senses, making him think of picnics and warm summer days, making him forget for a heartbeat that his daughter had been abducted. “Ready?”
Madison blinked. Puzzlement creased her forehead. “Yeah.”
Her slow response made him wonder if she had felt that brief connection and been just as surprised by it.
He followed her out of his office, noting the almost-deserted station.
Derek stood at the counter, near the phone, reading the newspaper. The deputy glanced at J.T. and straightened. “Sir, is there anything you want me to do?”
“I'm heading to the reverend's to see my children. I want you to forward any calls I receive to my cell phone.”
“Will do.”
As Madison reached out to open the front door, someone pushed it in. Elizabeth and her son entered, ready to clean the place. Surprise flickered across the older woman's face.
“You're here early. Or did you even go home last night, J.T.?” Elizabeth handed her son the container of cleaning supplies and he walked toward the back.
“I've been working, but I'm heading out right now.”
“Any progress on finding Ashley?”
“We're working on it.” Tension threaded his response as he placed his hand at the small of Madison's back and directed her out the door.