Chapter Fourteen
The truck was finally hooked up to the cable that was bringing it into the beach area. Charles was so worn out he could barely drag himself up the stairs. For a few moments he stopped at the second landing to watch the tow truck pulling the vehicle up the cliff, bouncing and crunching as it was forced up. He was certain that by the time it reached the top, it would be hardly recognizable as a vehicle of any kind, much less a nearly new truck.
As it reached the half way area, it appeared to catch on an outcropping of rock. Without warning, the front of the tow truck rose in the air. Men were shouting. The towing stopped. "Get another tow truck in here," he could hear one of them shout.
"More lights,” another called for more lighting than the few spotlights they had set about. It was getting darker and it appeared that it would take a lot more time for them to finish this project. Charles wondered how the young man fared and what had prompted him to commit such a stupid act. Someone had said that he had been sitting in his new Toyota truck drinking most of the afternoon, while another mentioned that he had been heard fighting with his girlfriend earlier in the day. Charles wondered if he would be injured for life or even if his life would continue. Sad, he was so young too.
Exhausted, Charles continued dragging himself up the stairs still watching the new tow truck get into place in front of the first one. As requested more lights were being set up while some of the locals were bringing over pots and cups of coffee for the men helping out. In spite of the turmoil, it was nice to see neighbors like those. He finally reached the top of the stairs and looked about for Kathy. She should have been close and there weren't that many people standing about that he could have seen her.
"Kathy, Katherine," he called. A few people turned at the sound of his voice, but none said anything. If she had gone, she left no word for him. That would be so unlike her. Perhaps she was tired and had gone back to the gazebo to finish putting her art things away. And maybe she would be sitting there waiting for him. Still barely able to walk, he turned toward the gazebo.
"Kathy," he called out to the darkened area. "Kathy, where are you?"
Within a few minutes, he was facing the easel. Katherine was not there. There was just enough street lamplight to see that the painting had been destroyed. Taking the canvas closer to the light, he read the words. "No," he didn't want to accept that anything might have happened to his Kathy, not now, after all this time. He had just found her again. There was a good chance they would finally have the life he so desperately desired. "No," again when he read the note. This was his entire fault. He couldn't have just let things go while he was trying to get back with the one love of his life. He was only going to finish this one last job. Unable to change his mistake, he knew he would have to agree to the kidnapper’s demands.
"We have your lady friend with us. If you want to see her again alive, get the stuff and go back to your hotel room. Wait for our call. We'll tell you where and when to meet us. You don't have much time." The note was unsigned, but Charles knew exactly who had written it and why.
Several years back when Charles Jr. had been involved with drugs, one man, Steffan, had helped him search for and find the boy. They had hidden out on an old ranch while they painstakingly fought to bring the boy back by helping him go cold turkey. Steffan was insistent that it was the only way. The days and nights of screaming, demanding, crying. The memories never left. He would have preferred to put him in a rehabilitation center, but Steffan would have none of that. If it were to be permanent, Charles would have to be there fighting right along with his son, suffering even more. As he was told, about those wild young people, he felt that the rehab centers, various programs and even prison had not helped any of them sufficiently to beat the drugs. His cruel cold- turkey system had a high rate of success.
Charles did not know how to repay this man who had given him back his son. Steffan had given his all, and not just for money. It was only much later that Charles had found out about his reason, but that wasn't important now. The distraught man was afraid to call for help, afraid to tie up the phone and afraid to leave long enough to get his cell phone in the car. When Steffan had asked for Charles's help in his business, there was no way he could refuse. It was often hazardous, but that didn't matter. The money was good, better than he had ever made before and he was able to do some good with it. The danger had never bothered Charles until he realized the jeopardy it could cause to Kathy. His thoughts had been to give it all up for her health. Never had he believed that this would endanger her life.
Just a few days ago, Steffan had called him to let him know that the girl for whom they had been searching for the past seven months was in a small farmhouse in a nearby town of Arroyo Grande. Right on the verge of one success, Steffan was unable to liberate this one girl. After receiving the phone call at the Madonna Inn, Charles had gone out that night. Luck was with him and when he had arrived at the farmhouse, she was not only alone, but anxious to get away from the boyfriend who had convinced her to come with him. At first, the girl had fought him, trying to get away. Then, without warning, her whole attitude changed as if something had just occurred to her troubled mind.
"I'll teach him to go off with another girl," she had been angry with the cheat. "I did everything he wanted, left home, stole money, delivered his drugs and this is what I get." Charles had been anxious to get away before the boyfriend and his friend returned.
"Okay, honey, let's just get going. I'll take you back. Your folks still love you and want to help you."
"Oh, no," she held back, "No way. I'm going to teach him a thing or two." She returned to the bedroom and came out with a small green backpack. "This will get him," she cried out triumphantly.
"Right, Donna, now let's go," Charles didn't know what was in that bag and didn't care. He knew if they or others came back, he was alone and in a lot of hot water.
"Teach them,” Donna allowed Charles to walk her to his car parked at the side of the farm. "He won't forget me now, will he?"
"No, Donna, he won't forget you. Please hurry."
They had barely reached the highway when a van sped by them. "There they go," Donna started laughing. "Will they be surprised? Here, mister, you take this and hide it for me. They're gonna be so sorry."
Charles was glad that he had agreed to take her to a nearby center where they specialized in cases like hers. Disagreeing with Steffan's more harsh methods, Donna's wealthy parents had pre-arranged it so she could get immediate care in a rehab center when she was found. When Charles discovered what was in the pack, even he was shocked. If it was all good, he was holding thousands of dollars worth of crack. There was at least five pounds in the bag. Why had they trusted her with the knowledge of so much stuff? And then to stupidly take off with another girl. You don't do that to any woman, much less one on drugs. Apparently, these boys were transporting the drugs from a major lab to a dealer. Not knowing what else to do and unable to reach his partner, Charles had placed the package in the hotel safe. Now Kathy was at risk. They wanted him to get their stuff and return it to them. Even then, would she be allowed to live? He didn't know if these boys had it in them to actually kill someone. They were desperate enough to kidnap. Their own lives were at risk. But kill, he didn't know. The mind of a druggie was scrambled at best. Charles couldn't risk losing Kathy, not now, not ever. At that point, he didn't care if they got their drugs back, no matter how much. One way or another, he could get it back. They were too careless and too stupid. All that mattered was Kathy, the only woman he had ever loved.
Without her car keys, he was forced to ask for help from one of the men he knew who was working at the accident scene. "Can't explain why now. Trust me," he had asked of his friend. "I have to get to the Madonna and I don't have much time."
"Okay, do you need any help?"
"Not now, but later. I'll call if I do."
It seemed like forever, but soon Charles was let off in front of the office at the Madonna
Inn where he obtained the package he had re-wrapped from the backpack. In his room, he added something to the package and waited impatiently by the phone. Why didn't it ring? As he waited, he quickly changed out of his damp clothing afraid to take a shower and be away from the phone for even a minute. For just a second, he went into the bathroom to wipe his face with a cold cloth.
Call, damn it, call. How long will they let me suffer, waiting to see if she is alive. Suppose they've already killed her. He couldn't be sure. He’d do anything to save her and they must know that. Is she suffering? Is she still alive? What have they done to her? His mind was filled with fear. Suppose that little item he put in the drug bag was found. What would they do to her? He already knew. Maybe it would be better if he took it out and just let them have and keep the damn drugs. But if they don't give me her, what will I do? How will I find her? There's no hope without something. I have to leave it in. I have to, Katherine. It's my only way of making sure I get you back. "Ring damn it, ring," he yelled at the silent phone. What if they don't know my room? What if she's already dead? What if, what if.... The phone finally rang. He grabbed at it and shouted, "Yes, what do you want?" It had to be them.
"Do you want her alive?" a masculine voice asked.
"Of course."
"Good. Meet us at the back parking lot in 3 minutes or she's dead. We get the package and you get told where to find her. This way you don't have time to get any cops here."
They weren't so dumb after all, not in that respect. He would have to hurry just to get there on time. No time at all for any calls. Charles grabbed his car keys as he ran out the door and up to the back parking lot. There were only a few parked cars there including his own and a van with its motor running.
"Where is she? Is she alive?" He held the package behind his back.
"Just give me the stuff," the driver said. "I don't want to do time for no murder. She's alive, for now."
No choice. Charles handed him the package.
The young man in the driver's seat grabbed the package and they sped off. Charles ran after them yelling, begging them to stop.
Laughing, they backed up barely missing him. "Oh, you can have where she's at. I just wanted you to suffer the way we've had to do. You knew if we didn't get the stuff what would happen and all you cared about was keeping it for yourself."
"And you took my girl," the other man spoke.
"Please, you got your stuff. Tell me where she's at." Charles was almost in tears. If anything happened to her and Kathy's health wasn't that good.
"She's down in the Dinosaur caves, tied to a rock on a ledge. The tide's coming in, so make it fast. If you don't get there in time, it's not my fault. So I wouldn’t take time to call the cops." The van spun out and headed down the hill toward the highway.
At that point, Charles didn't care how many drugs they would have in their hands. All he wanted to do was rescue Kathy, take her in his arms and never let her go. He raced toward his own car. If only she was there. If only she was okay. If only she was alive.