“Agent Savich?”
“Yes. Is this Sheriff Benedict? Is Sam all right?”
“Yes, he is, but listen to this, please,” and she told him about the kidnapper’s visit to the pharmacy. “Alice thinks they’re driving a light gray van, Virginia license LTD with a possible next number of three.”
“Got it. I’ll call Butch Ashburn, he’s the agent leading the kidnapping investigation. He’ll find out who the van belongs to.”
“I called Agent Hodges from the Knoxville field office, told him what was going on. He’s on his way here.”
“Good. You have Sam with you?”
“Yes, he’s still sleeping. He’s just fine.” It was then she heard the deep rumbling noise. “You’re in an airplane?”
“Yes, it’ll take us a couple of hours since we’re in a Cessna. Sheriff, I don’t like the fact that the kidnappers are still local. What else is happening?”
“Here’s the deal, Agent Savich. I don’t like the fact that those two guys are still hanging around here either. I’m hoping that Fatso-that’s the name Sam gave one of the kidnappers-is hurt bad and that’s why they haven’t hightailed it out of here. But if he was badly hurt, then why not take him to a doctor? We have two doctors in town. Both of them call me from home every hour so I’ll know they’re okay.”
“Well done,” Savich said.
“Yeah, but you know, the truth is, I don’t know what to make of it. They’ve got to know that everyone is looking for them. Why would they stay local?”
“You’re basing this on one witness?”
“Yes. Her set of eyes is just fine.”
“You shot Fatso in the arm?”
“Yes, that I’m sure of. Then I fired several more times while they were running back into the forest. Maybe I shot him again, I just didn’t see, all I heard was a yelp.” She drew a deep breath. “I know where they were keeping Sam. Agent Glen Hodges said he and his people will dust the place for prints when they get here.”
“I’m not too happy that they’re still around, but it sounds like you’ve got everything under control. We’ll be there soon. Be careful, okay?”
Katie pressed the “off” button on her cell. Well, she was being careful. She was keeping Sam with her, the FBI was on the way, and she’d called in all her people-with the exception of Wade, who’d already worked his butt off today. Everyone was out looking for that light gray van now.
Her cell phone played the first bars of “Fly Me to the Moon” a minute later. A man’s voice came on the line. “Sheriff Benedict? This is Miles Kettering. I’m with Agent Savich. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to thank you, and… please take care of my boy. Savich told me he was still sleeping?”
“Yes, he’s out like a light. Do you want me to wake him up?”
“Oh no, it’s just that I’m-” He stalled.
“I understand, Mr. Kettering. If someone had taken my child, I’d be scared out of my mind until I actually had her in my arms. You’re flying the Cessna?”
“Yes. It was the best I could do on short notice, but it’s a solid little plane.”
“It’s pretty bad weather here, as I’m sure you know. You’re coming in at Ackerman’s Air Field?”
“Yes, soon now.”
She checked that Miles Kettering had directions from Ackerman’s Air Field to her house before disconnecting.
She got a call not five minutes later from Glen Hodges, the SAC of the Knoxville Bureau field office.
“I’ve got three agents in the car with me. We’ll be in Jessborough about two hours from now, give or take because of the weather. Is there any more you can tell me?”
“No. Everyone’s out looking for the gray van, and doing general surveillance on anyone looking like either of the two men. I gave Agent Savich the partial license plate of the van. He said he was going to call Agent Butch Ashburn.”
“Yeah, Savich just called me. Agent Ashburn will get the owner of that van in no time.”
“Agent Savich and Mr. Kettering, the boy’s father, will be here soon as well.”
“Savich didn’t say what he was doing involved in a kidnapping? Last I heard he was in L.A. playing around in one of the Hollywood studios.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Agent Hodges. I just assumed he was assigned to the case with Agent Ashburn.”
“Oh no, Savich is the unit chief for the Criminal Apprehension Unit at headquarters.”
“What’s that?”
“He works mostly with computers, setting up databases and data-mining programs to help catch criminals. The Bureau set up this unit for him and that’s what he and eight or so other agents do.”
“Sounds like something I’d want real simplified.”
Glen Hodges laughed. “I’m with you, Sheriff. Oops, we’re starting to break up. You get in these mountains, and you’re down faster than you can catch a snake. You take care of the boy, ma’am. We’re coming as fast as we can.”
Katie slipped her cell back into her shirt pocket. She asked herself again what more she could do. She didn’t come up with an answer.
At nearly ten o’clock that night the worst fall storm in twenty years-according to the weather folk-seemed to be fizzling out. There was less rain, but the howling winds were still a nice side show, keeping people hunkered down in their homes, hoping their trees wouldn’t be uprooted.
She couldn’t imagine being up in a small airplane in this wind. She looked out Keely’s bedroom window, north, toward Ackerman’s Air Field, and said a little prayer.
All in all, they’d lucked out, Katie thought as she closed the window and walked over to Keely’s bed and gave her a kiss and smoothed her eyebrows. “I can tell you’re awake, sweetie. You just smiled. You love the sound of the rain, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, Mama, and the wind howling like banshees-that’s what Grandma says. You told me you liked it, too, Mama, when you were my age.”
“Yes, I remember pressing my nose against the window, wanting lightning, more lightning, and with it, the boom of thunder-the closer the better.”
“Can I go press my nose-”
“No, not tonight. You’re going to sleep now, Keely.”
“Is Sam okay?”
“Yep, he’s just fine.” One more kiss and Katie sat by her daughter until her breathing evened into sleep. Then she walked to the window and pressed her nose against the glass. It wasn’t the same. Her nose was cold and she wanted to sneeze. She left Keely’s bedroom, knowing she’d pass the night easily, the sound of the rain a lullaby to her daughter.
Wade had had only one emergency call some twenty minutes before from Mr. Amos Halley, who’d gotten himself stuck in his garage when the electricity had gone out and the door opener wouldn’t work. Even the manual override was stuck. Wade, pulled from his dinner, had nearly cried, but he’d gone over to the Halley house where Mrs. Halley stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her bosom, shaking her head, and told him, “Leave the old man in there, Wade. If you let him out, he’ll just go drinking down at the tavern.”
Wade had tried his best to get the garage door open, but the sucker hadn’t budged. Then the electricity came back on, and he was a hero, at least to Amos, who claimed he was near to croaking of a heart attack it was so black and airless inside the garage.
As Wade downshifted his jeep, he saw Amos Halley drive off toward the east side of town-that’s where the Long Shot Tavern had been hunkered down since just after World War II.
The rain had lightened up considerably, but winds still buffeted the jeep. There would probably be some flooding, but nothing they couldn’t handle. All in all, it wasn’t bad. He hoped one of the deputies would spot the gray van. He’d told them to call him first.
He made it home in record time and grinned at Glenda.
But something hit him about five minutes later. It was worry, real deep worry, and he didn’t know what to do about it.