Kidnapped

  Luke walked to the bridge, scanning the area, searching for movement.

  There was a white post beside the bridge as advertised. Luke shoved a thorny bush away from the base and saw the taped envelope on the post. He tugged it free.

  A map was stuffed inside, a red felt marker having bled through the paper. A glance confirmed he was expected to continue on by air. He signaled Joe to set down again.

  It didn’t make sense, these hop-around delivery routes.

  Luke took the copilot seat again. “Take a look, Joe.” He offered the map.

  “This is annoying.”

  “Tell me about it. Does the quarry sound familiar?”

  “I’ve flown over it a few times in the last few days.”

  Luke buckled himself in and slipped back on his sunglasses. “He’s sending us away from Benton and where I think Caroline might have been left.”

  “Let’s hope he runs out of interest in this game.” Joe handed him back the map, then lifted off and turned them north.

  Luke pulled the binoculars out of their case again.

  After two minutes of flight time, the quarry appeared beneath them, a sudden change from heavy foliage to sheer cleared rock. “He likes abandoned areas.”

  “The lawsuit shut down this quarry more than two years ago, leaving it all in limbo. Unfinished, the land unrecovered. What a waste.”

  “Down there.” Luke pointed to the red flag planted alongside the quarry road, flapping in the wind right where it had been noted on the map.

  Joe circled the area twice and then set down. There were too many places for a shooter to hide in this forsaken area. Luke ran. The red flag had been tied to a short shepherd’s hook. At the base of the pole was a small orange metal box. Luke ripped open the envelope taped to it.

  Put the diamonds in the box and lock it. Fly due south for exactly one minute and drop the box out into the woods. Keep flying south. I’ll call your office when it’s delivered.

  Luke tossed the flag away, picked up the box, and jogged back to Joe. Frank must have planted some kind of tracking device in the box, and it made him sweat—the thought that two tracking devices might jam each other or both signals might be visible to Frank. Luke considered for a moment not putting in the marked diamond, but he didn’t have time to sort it out and the loss of their tracking device was unacceptable. The risk had to be taken.

  “Head due south, Joe.” Luke handed over the note for him to read and saw one eyebrow lift. Joe nodded. Luke started the timer on his watch as they lifted off.

  Luke grabbed the map. The box would drop in an area of thick woods, steep hills, and several hunting roads crossing the area. There was even a small river, giving Frank the option of leaving the area by boat. It was the kind of place Frank would trust.

  Luke tugged the pouch of diamonds from his jacket and stored them in the box. It was a hunter’s case, the thick walls designed to survive a shotgun blast. There were no obvious signs of how Frank was tracking the package. Luke turned the key. “At least he bought something that would survive the fall.”

  “That diamond bug has a range of three miles; we’ll keep track of that package.”

  “When the call comes in, you and I divert to get Caroline. The other two units in the air can keep a distant watch on this package. After we have Caroline, we’ll deal with wherever this package has gone,” Luke replied.

  “Agreed.”

  “Get ready to get buffeted.”

  Luke braced one hand on the side of the seat and with the other shoved open the small window. His watch clicked sixty seconds. Luke tossed the package out of the helicopter.

  Chapter Forty-One

  He’s taking his sweet time about recovering that package.” Joe shifted his hands to flex his fingers and work out the stiffness. Hovering two miles south of the drop site for an extended period of time took its toll.

  Luke locked his gaze onto the tracking display, determined not to blink at the wrong time, wanting to see the very first hint of movement. “It’s probably lost down some ravine.” If it had burst open on impact, then they were about to have one of the most difficult ransom recoveries in a long time. Finding and accounting for every stone would take an archaeological-level search of the area.

  “If he intended to recover that package today, Frank has to already be near that drop site. Do you think Caroline is as well?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not what I would expect.” Luke glanced at his watch. Too much time was going by. “Come on, find the package.”

  “It may be best that we set down and save some gas. We can track that package from the ground without a problem.”

  “Another five minutes,” Luke replied.

  Joe changed the secondary radio channel to another local news feed. “It sounds like news of the ransom demand has leaked to the media. They don’t have that the delivery is in progress yet, but there’s a reporter broadcasting from the end of the road to Mark and Sharon’s home who believes you’re meeting with Sharon and Mark right now about that ransom call.”

  “That puts them what, four hours behind what’s happening? Someone is going to break the news the diamonds have already been flown to Benton.”

  “An hour, and they will know the ransom is being delivered.”

  Luke opened another bottle of water. “There! The package has begun to move.”

  Joe leaned over to watch the beacon. “It’s slow enough he’s definitely on foot. Frank’s going to call once the diamonds are recovered?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we go get him now.” Luke watched the coordinates begin to change. “Head toward Benton. I think Caroline would have been left south of here, not farther north.”

  Joe brought the helicopter around to circle toward Benton.

  Luke watched the second hand sweep by, and then the minutes. “What is taking him so long?” Frank was going to stiff them and not call.

  “Do you think he’s checking the stones?”

  “The package has kept moving. He’s just taking his time about calling. From the speed, I’d say he’s no longer on foot.” Luke picked up the high-powered binoculars and focused on the road to their left. “It’s too bad you can’t read license plates from up here.”

  “The angles are bad.” Joe opened a second bottle of water. “He may be selling the diamonds within the hour for all we know. The stones may change hands on us in exchange for a wire transfer to the Cayman Islands.”

  “We’ll take the risk. No matter how far he runs, I’m going to find him.”

  “Luke.”

  He reached for the radio, relieved. “Go ahead, Henry.”

  “8754 Logan Road. Caroline’s in the back of a white van.”

  Luke started at the simplicity of the message. He looked at Joe, even as Joe sent the helicopter diving toward the tree line and turning southwest. “We’re diverting now, Henry.”

  “Don’t rush in without backup. I’ve got everything here rolling. We’re expediting details on the address now.”

  Luke traced the map. “Logan Road, that’s almost to Sandy Hill,” he realized, surprised at the number of interstates Frank had been willing to cross with Caroline in his car.

  “Three minutes by air,” Joe reassured him.

  Henry came back on the radio. “Luke, 8754 Logan Road is one of three homes in this area owned by the president of the Benton Bank. This is trouble.”

  The fury that swept over Luke made him tremble. “I just met him. Jason Fromm was intimately involved in assembling the initial ten million, and he was in a position to know how we planned to mark and track the cash. No wonder Frank knew to leave the money behind. And Fromm would know exactly how much cash Mark could raise late on a Friday night.”

  “It’s the guy who plans a crime from the inside who hurts us the most.”

  “Jason arranged a kidnapping and is a coconspirator for several deaths. Tell me we can locate him.”

/>   “The sheriff should be literally walking into his bank office now to detain him. I’m heading to Logan Road. Wait for backup, Luke; that’s an order. This is listed as a vacation home, not his principal residence, but if he’s not at the office and is still on this property—”

  Luke cut Henry off. “How many places can a white van be hidden? You’ve got about sixty seconds after we land before I storm at least the garage.”

  “I hear you. Patience, Luke. We’ll be moments behind you. We’ve got to hit all three properties at the same time to avoid tipping him off.”

  “And if he’s already fled?”

  “A flash alert is going to every airport to check outgoing flights. The sheriff saw Fromm in town this morning. We’ll find him.”

  “We’ll meet you at Logan Road.” Luke closed the radio channel. “Joe, I need options.”

  “If we fly too close, we advertise our interest in the property. But with those binoculars I’ll get you a good look at the property before we set down and move in.”

  “The white van, the safe room—was the guy so arrogant as to hide the evidence on his own property?”

  “How many people are going to suspect a banker?”

  Luke checked the batteries in his flashlight, knowing they would soon be dealing with a setting sun and gathering darkness. He would prefer to double-check his weapon but deferred that while they were in the air.

  If they ended up having to stake out the house, SWAT would want to wait until dark to move in. Luke couldn’t afford to risk such a delay. If Caroline was indeed in a white van on that property, they had to find her fast.

  * * *

  Caroline lifted tape-bound hands an agonizing few inches to dislodge a beetle moving across her sleeve. The insects came and haunted her in real life, then invaded her dreams as she fought the pain only to fade in and out of consciousness. Don’t dream anymore; just don’t dream.

  The gag prevented her from moistening cracked lips. She would never take cold water to drink for granted again. Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. Jesus, I’m going to be seeing You sooner than I expected.

  If she died here, Sharon and Benjamin would grieve but go on. Luke would spend the rest of his life blaming himself. If only she had left him a note to say she loved him one last time.

  She tried to turn her head on the rough carpet but didn’t have the energy. The sudden storms of life . . . she hadn’t been ready for this weekend. But the bedrock foundation of her faith had held through the storm. She would be going to see Jesus. It was so silent outside now. This van was going to be her coffin and grave.

  Are you okay, Sharon? Did you make it out okay? The doubts ate at her hope. She had been so foolish thinking she could get her sister out alive. If Sharon hadn’t been able to get out of the woods, if she wasn’t home now safe and sound, then all this willfully independent action had accomplished was to add an unbearable burden to Benjamin, Mark, and Luke with both of them being missing.

  Caroline coughed. The pain tore through her chest like a sharp knife.

  She hoped she’d killed the man. She hoped she had hit an artery in Frank’s leg with that pocketknife, and he was bleeding to death somewhere. The odds she had succeeded—it was a day of failures.

  She could feel the blood still flowing from the compound fracture of her left arm she’d received in return for her attempt to stop him. Bone had broken the skin, and the pain radiated from her shoulder to her wrist. The swelling just kept building.

  Hurry, Luke. She was dying. And there was no way to stop it.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  This isn’t a guesthouse; it’s a three-car garage, probably six-bedroom monstrosity. It’s impossible to tell if someone is home.” Luke lowered the binoculars. “I’ve seen enough. Where is the best place to set down?”

  “Neighbors aren’t close, but we’re a loud and novel thing to see land. I’d suggest the parking lot of that business park. We can cut through that landscaped berm and come up on the back of the property.”

  Luke nodded. “Get us on the ground.” He shed anything he was carrying that wasn’t needed in order to eliminate any extra weight. “I’ll need you along for the hike.”

  “Until cop cars begin to roll in, just try to get me away from your side. I doubt anyone in this neighborhood knows how to hot-wire a helicopter.” Joe set down the helicopter and flipped switches to shut it down. “Let’s move.”

  A few cars were slowing to see what was happening, but luckily no one was out walking a dog or jogging along the roadside. Luke led the way from the county road into the neighborhood. The landscaped berm provided a sound break from the road. Luke stayed parallel to Logan Road until he reached the cluster of elm trees he’d noted at the end of the property, and then he cut south into the grounds so that they’d come out near the garage. Joe stayed with him step for step.

  He stopped within sight of the roofline and crouched near the fountain.

  “I don’t see any windows on that garage,” Joe whispered.

  “All brick. It’s too early for lights to be on inside and too late to expect housekeeping might be around to tell us if he’s home or that the van is here.” Luke wanted to break into that garage, but they risked triggering the alarm system, the fact she might not be in that van, or that it might not even be here.

  “We’ll have to go in that front door with force and spread out fast inside,” Joe counseled.

  “Let’s cover the back of the house to make sure no one sees the cops arriving and tries to bolt out the back way.”

  “I’ll get Henry on the radio and give him a heads-up on the layout of this place.”

  * * *

  Jason saw the cars approaching his guest home and knew they were police cars, even though they had on neither lights nor sirens. They came in both directions on a one-way road, a dozen vehicles moving fast. The man in the lead would no doubt have a warrant to search the house and grounds.

  Jason considered for a moment meeting them at the front door and playing the surprised owner more than willing to cooperate with their search. There wasn’t anything here they could find, but cooperating would lead to endless hours of questions. There wasn’t time for that kind of delay.

  He pushed the last personal papers he had come to retrieve into his briefcase and then retreated from the office and headed upstairs. Let them search. He could hide in the safe room. They would look around his property, not find the room, and he would be in the clear.

  There wasn’t a scrap of paper or piece of trash left to suggest what had occurred here. His car was two blocks away, getting cleaned by one of the best detail businesses in the area. There wouldn’t be so much as an unwanted fingerprint left in the vehicle when they were done. He just needed to hide for a few hours.

  Jason reached the master bedroom and walked into the closet. Moving to one side the shelves for the shoes, he found the seam in the paneling for the first hidden door and opened it. He tugged out the soundproofing. He lifted the metal plate upward and stuck it in the wooden jambs that held it up. The entryway was too small. He swore softly as he worked his way into the room.

  The doorbell rang and someone knocked hard on the front door. His hands slippery with sweat, he turned and leaned back out into the closet, pulling over the outer door and reaching under it to grasp the shelves and rock them back over in place. He yanked his hands in as the outer door closed. Okay. He was okay. The entrance to the room was covered. Unless the shoes had all tumbled off at the movement, he was fine.

  “Jason Fromm! This is the police. We have a warrant to search this house!”

  He heard the shouts as he frantically pushed in place the soundproofing tiles and then grabbed the wooden jambs to remove them and bring the metal plate down. The weight of the metal plate caught him by surprise, and he just got his fingers out of the way before it slid down and buried itself in the framing. Jason stumbled back into the mess of the room and fell back to sit on the short bed.

  He was in. He was fi
ne. If they realized the closet shelves could be moved, if they tapped on the wall, or for that matter kicked at it, all they would hear was solid wall. The steel plate and soundproofing would do their jobs.

  He listened to his heart rate slow down and eventually looked around the small room and let out a long breath. What a mess. When Frank had broken in to get the lady out, he hadn’t been neat about it. Jason tossed a smashed box of cereal off the bed so he didn’t have to share the perch with crushed Cheerios.

  He leaned against the wall and looked at his watch. Three hours. He would give them three hours to do their searching, and then he was going to get out of here and vanish for good.

  * * *

  Luke was a step behind Henry James as they entered the house. The entryway opened onto a great room with vaulted ceilings, moonlight streaming in through tall windows casting shadows across bookcases and plush chairs.

  “Search it, basement to attic and every crevice in between.” At Henry’s order, officers spread out.

  Luke headed toward the garage, Taylor Marsh and Joe right beside him. Luke shoved open the door and found the lights.

  The garage was cold and empty.

  “Frank was jerking us around,” Marsh said.

  “She’s here somewhere.” Luke turned to Joe. “I need you back in the air. Circle the area and drop flares, look for where else a white van might be hidden. If Frank abandoned the vehicle around here in a storage building or garage—”

  “I’m on it.” Joe headed out.

  Marsh looked down the long hallway. “If this is the location of the safe room—”

  “Sharon was brought down a flight of carpeted stairs.” Luke headed back down the hall and took the stairs going to the second floor two at a time, Marsh on his heels.

  Marsh went down the rooms on the right, his sidearm drawn. “Expensive little place for a banker’s guesthouse.”

  “I’d check your account in the morning to see if it has any cash left in it.” Luke walked to the window of a guest room to see what options a guy would have going out of a window. One glance ended that idea. They’d be scraping him off the pavement.