The Warning Page 7

  “You and I both know that isn’t the way it went down.”

  “Tell that to the FBI. They’re the ones holding a threatening note written by Sarah.”

  “What would make them automatically assume Sarah would kill two cops?” Sam asked. “Even Jill knows that wouldn’t happen unless the cops were dirty and trying to kill her.”

  “Sarah threatened two cops and then they were shot. The perp is dead. How do you think this looks? Also, everyone knows how much she hates cops. She hates us so much she almost got killed four years ago instead of coming to us for help.”

  “This is crazy, and it will only prove to her that she can’t trust us even more. You know as well as I do that everyone is going to be trigger happy when they’re hunting a cop killer. I’d implore you to get that moniker off Sarah’s back.”

  “There’s nothing I can do. I’m just the hired help. Special Agent Hanover is in charge. I’m along for the ride, although I think it’s because they know that I’m the only cop Sarah might talk to. I think they had my phone records pulled or something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Parkman stepped back to let another officer walk by. When he was out of earshot he turned back to Sam, “Sarah called me this afternoon. She said her parents had been kidnapped and she was being followed.”

  Sam was surprised. “Her parents too? What the hell is going on? This is very personal and I’d bet ten to one that it’s all connected to what happened four years ago.”

  “I just can’t figure out how Jack Tate is involved. I thought everyone was either killed or jailed four years ago.”

  Sam dropped his head and looked up at Parkman, his eyes imploring. “You’ll call me if something comes up? You know how I feel about these people.”

  “As soon as I can, I’ll call,” Parkman said and started back towards Jill.

  Sam hustled to his car, got in and drove off.

  But not before he saw Jill and two other FBI agents watching him leave.

  Chapter 17

  Sarah must have dozed, out of exhaustion. She woke to a screaming bladder and a headache that screamed louder. She felt the vehicle slowing down. That must have been what woke her. She turned and tried to adjust herself into a better position. Everything seemed to ache; her shoulder, her scalp, but most of all her cheek. She tried to smile, but it hurt as soon as she moved her lip.

  Whoever these people were, she knew they were brutally insane. Killing two cops in broad daylight like they did, on the side of the highway, was crazy. Her life wasn’t worth much to them but she was sure she’d find out soon enough why they were keeping her alive. She also had to find out why everyone’s shirts were torn at the base like Jack’s. Was he involved somehow? And if so, was it Jack that led them into a trap starting at Dolan’s and ending at the highway kidnapping?

  The SUV stopped and the engine died. She heard the driver get out and shut the door. With the blindfold on she couldn’t tell if the sun had gone down or not. Even though her hands were cuffed in the front she didn’t attempt to move the blindfold. She was too sore to take another beating.

  It didn’t matter anyway because as the back door opened, her blindfold was ripped away. She squinted, but then slowly opened her eyes. They adjusted fast as it was already dark.

  “Come on, get out.”

  The man standing at the back gate of the SUV was a different guy than the driver who had roughed her up. She took that as a plus.

  Maneuverability was difficult with her hands cuffed but she managed to get to the open door and dangle her legs out before she hopped off. Her new escort gripped her above the elbow and started her walking.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Where are the people I came with? Is Esmerelda here?”

  Again, no response. The guy was a walking stone.

  She scanned the area. Something close to small portables you’d find at a school yard were up ahead. These ones were much smaller though, about the size of a backyard shed. There were at least ten in a row. Some of them were secured with a padlock and chains wrapped around the door. The other ones had their doors sitting wide open.

  Sarah saw the bottoms of these little portables were lifted on blocks of cement.

  “Is this the jail you plan on keeping me in?”

  He pushed her toward one of the open portables. Before being locked away, she continued to scan the area as best she could in the dark, but there wasn’t much to see except a line of trees and then, beyond that, darkness. A few lights had been rigged to shine directly on the door of each portable.

  Sarah looked down and saw his shirt. It was ripped in the exact same spot as Jack’s.

  “Why does everyone have a tear in their shirt?” she asked, knowing she wouldn’t get a response.

  He stepped closer and gestured for Sarah to enter. She used the cement block someone had placed on the ground as a step and walked into the gloom of a dank-smelling room. Immediately the door shut behind her. Sarah could hear the lock snapping into place and the chains being slid across the door to further secure her.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she yelled through the walls.

  She could hear his footsteps as he walked away from her new jail cell.

  It didn’t take long to feel her way around the portable. It was a square room with some kind of linoleum flooring. She found a small raised platform in one corner. It was roughly the size of a small school chair and it had a hole in it. Without feeling into the hole, she assumed this was the toilet from the subtle smell of an outhouse that emanated from it.

  She eased her pants down and hovered over the hole. When she was finished she felt around for toilet paper but came up empty-handed. After pulling up her pants she continued her search of the small jail.

  The only opening in the room, other than the padlocked door, was the small hole to shit in.

  She sat down in one of the corners and wondered why she still did this. It had been almost five years that she’d been listening to Vivian’s messages. Whenever anything had to do with family, the notes were vague and usually everything went to shit. Was she cut out for this? Could she handle it? Would she respond to the vague family messages in the future? Life and death seemed so far apart when walking a downtown street with people milling around. But it was a line that was always close. One misstep, one miscalculation and the end would come.

  Sarah wept. She wiped at her eyes. She didn’t realize how tired she was. She felt the pull of exhaustion.

  Why wouldn’t Vivian help? How come whenever it had to do with family the messages were more of a guide and not specific? This was something she could never figure out. Unless Vivian would tell her, Sarah feared she may never know.

  She edged down the wall until she was lying along the floor. Noises from outside came and went. A vehicle passed. She heard the gravel under someone’s boots as they walked by her portable.

  Esmerelda shouted out.

  Sarah jumped up in the dark. Her body resisted. She felt heavy with sleep.

  Then she heard Esmerelda again. “Are you okay?”

  “We’re fine.” It was her dad’s voice. She had barely been able to hear it.

  They brought everyone here, Sarah thought.

  Whoever was doing this had brought them all together. But why?

  “Mom! Dad! Can you hear me?” Sarah shouted.

  No one responded.

  “Esmerelda!” she tried again.

  Nothing. She couldn’t hear them anymore. There was a soft rustle from behind her portable that sounded like the leaves on the trees moving as a wind picked up.

  This posed new problems. Even if she was able to figure a way out of this, they had all the people she loved trapped here. She couldn’t just leave them.

  Unless she got out and came back with help. But there were so many problems with that too. She had no idea where this compound was located. For all she knew they could be a hundred miles from civilization.
Also, if she did manage to escape she’d have to bring help back before they found out she was gone. She couldn’t live with it if they hurt or killed anyone as punishment for her escaping.

  She eased back down to the floor. Her fingers found a few strands of hair on her forearm. New strands that had grown in over the past few years. She rolled them between her fingers and tugged softly. The old feeling of pleasure wasn’t there. The need, the desire to pull was gone. She let the hair go and rested flat out on the linoleum floor.

  Sleep took her in seconds.

  Chapter 18

  Sam Johnson flipped the television around without really watching any of the channels. He usually didn’t mind a Saturday morning with nothing to do but not today. He felt fidgety, tapping his foot, drumming his fingers.

  For dozens of years his response to being busy at work was to spend more time on the case he was working. Ever since he transferred to the evidence room four years ago, after he was almost killed hunting down Sarah’s kidnapper, he had adjusted well. He golfed, went for long walks and felt he was practically retired.

  But now Sarah was in trouble again, along with so many other people. It wasn’t just Sarah this time. That’s why he wanted in on this even though his gut said to stay away.

  He also knew it wasn’t her fault.

  He flipped to the news channel. The phone rang.

  He picked it up before the first ring stopped.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sam, its Parkman.”

  “You got anything?”

  “There is something.”

  “What?” Sam asked as he sat up on his couch.

  “Keep this to yourself. I’m not supposed to involve you. The FBI wants this all kept close to them because of how many kidnappings we had in twenty-four hours.”

  “Of course. Just tell me what you got.”

  “Jack Tate used to be a cop back around twenty years ago.”

  “I knew that. Is there anything else?”

  “I pulled his file. I remember reading it about a year ago. He was under suspicion a couple times for conduct unbecoming but never charged with anything. And there’s more.”

  Sam grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. He got up and headed for his bedroom. Something told him he’d be leaving soon. He needed to do something or go crazy sitting around the house. “Go on.”

  “He was following a lead the night he got shot. A man named Armond Stuart. You’ll remember Alex, Dolan’s assistant?”

  “I remember him quite well. What about it?”

  “Armond is his father.”

  “What? So Jack was after Alex’s father over twenty years ago? Then there’s no surprise why he’s involved.”

  “Here’s the juicy part. I can’t find anything on a guy named Armond Stuart. The guy doesn’t exist. It’s just a name. No social security number, no address, no nothing. The only thing I can come up with is he’s either really good at changing his identity or there isn’t a man named Armond Stuart in this area of the Continental United States.”

  Sam stopped in the doorway to his room. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then where did Jack come up with it? He must’ve gotten the name from somewhere.”

  “No one knows.”

  “How is that possible? He must’ve had a good enough source to write it in his reports,” Sam said as he made it to his closet and started ruffling through his dress shirts. Then he stopped. “Unless Jack made it up. Jack Tate could be Armond himself.”

  “No one will ever know. After he took a bullet to the head he got amnesia. He retired on disability when he recovered in the hospital. Been living like a recluse ever since. His neighbors claim they almost never see him.”

  “Okay, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this Jack Tate guy, but my radar is flashing. Questions are going to have to be answered. Like: after Jack was shot all those years ago, what happened to the investigative work he had done up until then? Didn’t anybody else take over the case workload?”

  “I’m still looking into that, among other things. It looks like there’s a lot missing.”

  Sam selected a blue collared shirt and tugged it one-handed off the hanger. “I’m heading out. Can we meet up later?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay Parkman, I’ll call you,” Sam said and hung up.

  He got changed and left the house. He knew Officer Winnfield was the cop who talked to Jack Tate last night. Maybe there was something he could say that would shed some light on this.

  Chapter 19

  The door opened and a blinding sun shot into her portable. Sarah squinted into the bright light and tried to see who had entered. It was the same guy who hit her yesterday.

  “Get up,” he said.

  She got to her knees, then used the wall to stand. Everything was stiff from a night on the hard floor. Her face and shoulders ached. She rolled her arms to loosen everything up.

  The guy grabbed her and pulled her from the little room. Pain flared in her wrists where the cuffs were starting to chafe.

  She had to cover her eyes, as the morning sun was shining right in her face.

  They were walking down a path cut between all the little portables. Most of them had their doors sitting open. She knew by now that meant these were the empty ones.

  She tried to scan the area as her eyes focused better. It appeared they were surrounded by trees. Other than the path they were on that led between the portables, she couldn’t see far.

  One man escorting her was a risk which meant security was good. They had no fear of her trying to escape.

  They came to the end of the portables. She counted at least twenty, ten on each side. Would they be harboring that many kidnap victims at any given time? Who were these people that they could kidnap at random and kill cops? She had never been up against anyone so brazen before. She hadn’t even suspected people like this existed, let alone in groups, unless they were some sort of militia unit.

  They’d been walking for at least five minutes now. She saw a larger building up ahead, like a small airplane hangar with a barn on the side. So far, she could not see any fences or gates. What were these people thinking? If she broke out of her portable she could just run into the trees and be gone?

  It couldn’t be that easy. They must have some kind of security in the trees like cameras, or other men just waiting for her to break out. If she could break out of her portable. Maybe that was it. Secure the prisoner so well that you don’t need to have added security. Lock them up tight and be done with it. On the outside, this place would look like a school’s summer camp versus a miniature prison.

  They made it to the entrance of the barn shaped building. The brute let go of her arm and stepped back.

  The door opened and an odd looking man wearing crazy black glasses stepped out.

  “Come in, Sarah,” he said with a gesture of his hands.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  She heard a clicking sound behind her. A gun. She turned around. The asshole had a gun, cocked and aimed.

  “Please stay where you are. Please don’t move so I can be the one who kills you.”

  “Blake, stand down. Sarah, enter this building.”

  Then Sarah remembered the guy’s face. He was the one she pistol-whipped in front of Tate’s house. “What happened to your face? You’ve got a nasty red mark on the side.”

  The gun raced at her face until she was looking down the barrel.

  “Ask me again, muthafucker, ask me again,” he said, his teeth clenched.

  “You sound like you enjoy being tough. I’ll remember that and I’ll make sure you’re one of the first ones I kill when this is over.”

  She started moving in to the building even though her legs were shaking. The evil look in that man’s eyes could move mountains. He was the reason she did this; because men like that shouldn’t and couldn’t exist in a rational society where mothers and babies also existed. It just didn
’t work.

  At the door she turned back. Blake had lowered his weapon. He was easing it back into his shoulder holster under his black jacket.

  “Weren’t you loved as a child?” Sarah asked.

  The lights had been lowered. The place was crowded with tables and desks. It looked like a planning station for a war time drill. Something she’d seen in a movie.