Mistaken Identity (20 page)

Thirty-Seven

A few miles down the road, Lucinda realized that the FBI would have to be involved. She groaned, grabbed her cell and called Captain Holland. “Captain, this is Lieutenant Pierce.”

“Pierce, I heard you were on your way in. Sorry to take you away from a family funeral.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Captain. I wanted to talk to you about the FBI.”

“I was all ready to contact the local office when you called.”

“No, Captain. Please don’t.”

“Pierce, the FBI has to be involved. This is an abduction – a child abduction.”

“I know that. But get me Special Agent Jake Lovett.”

“There’s a chain of command here, Pierce.”

“Captain, please. The local guys all worked with my ex-husband …”

“They are all professionals. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, Captain. How about if I told you that you had to work with your ex-wife’s cronies in an already difficult situation?”

“Okay, okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll do what I can.”

Walking into Victoria Whitehead’s home, Lucinda grimaced and shook her head in reaction to the vile and obvious odor of human decomposition. She spotted Ted in the living room, holding one of Victoria’s hands and talking to her quietly. The woman’s other hand was wrapped in an ice pack. When he saw Lucinda, he excused himself and approached. “You made good time.”

“Not bad,” she said. “Where is it?”

“The head and the hand?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s down at the morgue.”

“Whew, as bad as it smells in here, I didn’t think the box had left yet.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s the aroma that keeps on giving. I told the pathologist to get a sample for DNA testing up to Beth Ann Coynes as soon as possible. In fact, she probably has it by now.”

“What about the other hand?” Lucinda said. “Why wasn’t it in the box?”

“Man, you got me. Might not be a reason. But we did find a note in the box. I sent that down with the body parts but I jotted down the message before I did.” Ted pulled a notebook out of his pocket. “It was addressed to ‘My dearest Victoria’.”

“That’s enough to make you gag.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, then read, “‘Just wanted to make sure you knew I was serious. You and the cops need to meet my demands or else.’”

“What are his demands?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ve set up a tap on the phone. Ms. Whitehead needs to be here in case a call comes in but I’d rather have her down at the emergency room.”

“What happened to her?”

“She slipped in her own vomit, went down and I think she sprained her wrist. We’ve got ice on it but I really think it needs to be X-rayed.”

“As long as she’s not screaming, that will have to wait. Did you get her some pain meds?”

“We started with a few ibuprofen from her medicine cabinet but a little bit ago, we had a doctor come by. He gave her some stronger stuff with codeine in it. But he wasn’t too happy that she wasn’t getting an X-ray.”

“Yeah, well, too bad, isn’t it?”

“What now, Lucinda?”

“Damn, I wish I knew. We’ve got to wait for a call and – wait a minute, Ted. Let me see the wording in that note again.”

Ted handed her the pad. “What is it?”

Lucinda tapped on the page. “This isn’t his first contact. He wouldn’t say he wanted to
make sure
she knew he was serious unless he already talked to her,” she said and walked into the living room. Sitting down beside Victoria, she said, “Ms. Whitehead, were you expecting this package?”

“Oh, good heavens, no!”

“But this isn’t the first time you’ve heard from Jason, is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Then, tell me, Ms. Whitehead, how did you know that Jason left that package on your porch?”

Victoria’s head bobbed as she stammered, “Wha – what – what do you mean?”

“For one, the note in that box was not signed. Secondly, the wording of the note makes it obvious that this was not the first contact you had with the kidnapper. I strongly suspect you knew it was Jason because you talked to him before the package arrived.”

Victoria squeezed her eyes tight and shook all over.

“Right now, this isn’t looking good for you. You’re looking at possible accessory charges. You need to tell me everything you know.”

Victoria breathed in deeply, her shoulders rising to her ears. With her loud exhale, they slumped back down, even lower than they were before. “He called last night and told me he took Frederick.”

“And you didn’t call nine-one-one?”

“I was afraid. I thought it was a test. I thought if I didn’t call the police, that he’d bring Frederick back. I thought they’d be laughing. I thought …”

“You just weren’t thinking at all, were you, Ms. Whitehead?” Lucinda snapped.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” Victoria wailed.

“You were so desperate to cling to a man that you didn’t give a damn about your grandson, is that right?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she whimpered, bending at the waist and burying her face in her hands.

Disgusted, Lucinda rose and walked away. “Damned stupid woman.”

“Making people cry again, I see.”

Lucinda jerked her head around, following the familiar voice. “Jake!” Her heart pounded, her throat tightened and she cautioned herself to hide her emotions.

“FBI at your service, ma’am,” he said, making a mock bow. “It seems the local agents had as big an aversion to working with you as you did with them. So here I am.”

Lucinda’s eye trailed down his body to the signature high-top Chucks on his feet. “Nice shade of yellow, Special Agent Lovett.”

Jake looked down at his feet and wiggled one in her direction. “They’re gold, Lieutenant. Aztec gold.”

Lucinda laughed. “Let’s go into the other room and I’ll get you up to speed.”
It feels so good to see him again, to hear his voice, to be near him, to know he has my back. Focus on that last one, Lucinda, girl. This is a professional relationship – don’t forget it. He has a job to do. I have a job to do. Keep that in mind.

They were deep into their conversation when Ted stepped into the room with a smile that quickly flatlined and became a frown. “Special Agent Lovett,” he said with a nod, then turned away from the man he was certain was a rival for Lucinda’s affections. “Lucinda, Whitehead said that she didn’t notice that Frederick wasn’t at home until dinner time. Jason King called a short time later.”

“He told her that he had the boy, he expected her cooperation and that she should call the police because she’d need their help to get what he needed. But because he told her to call the police, she was certain it was a trick or a test and so she didn’t call.”

“You buying her story?” Jake asked.

Ted glanced at the FBI agent, and then shifted his eyes to Lucinda before he spoke. “I know it sounds stupid, Lucinda. But I think she’s telling the truth about that call.”

“Thanks, Ted,” Lucinda said. She turned away from him and resumed talking to Jake.

For a moment, Ted stood and watched them. They gave no indication that they were aware he was still in the room.

A commotion arose at the front door just before eight o’clock. Jake and Lucinda walked into the foyer and smiled. Officer Robin Colter clutched two urns from Starbucks and the patrolman behind her carried a huge sack of sandwiches. “Colter!” Lucinda grinned. “Your instincts are excellent.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant. Hope you’ll keep that in mind. I’m taking my sergeant’s exam next month – when I ace it, I’ll be looking for a new place on the roster.”

Lucinda laughed. “You see an opening in my department, let me know, and I’ll put in a good word.”

After setting up the food in the kitchen, Robin carried a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee into the living room and offered it to Victoria Whitehead. When the woman demurred and asked for a cup of tea, Robin returned to the kitchen to prepare it.

For a while, everyone was content – stomachs full, caffeine replenished. But as the clock approached ten, restless energy bounced off the walls. Lucinda, Jake and Ted all found it impossible to sit still – each one walking off into another room, then turning around as if they forgot their purpose and walking back again.

Victoria turned snippy, taking out her nervousness on Robin who stuck to her side despite the abuse. A shout of “Lieutenant!” rang out from the family room. Lucinda followed the sound, Jake and Ted at her heels. She took in the scene before her – three uniformed officers gathered around a television set watching the news. “What?” Lucinda asked.

“Your sister,” one of them stammered. “She’s gone now. But …”

Lucinda snatched the remote out of the patrolman’s hand and clicked to another local newscast and then to the third. Her sister Maggie stood in front of Ricky’s house, an array of microphones curved around her.

“All that my sister ever thinks about is herself. When she –” Maggie said, turning to face the camera and enunciating with care, “– Lieutenant Lucinda Pierce – when she should have been at work, protecting that little boy – she knew he was in danger – but no, instead of doing her job like she should, she was here. Right here. She forgot about that little boy and rushed up here to try to steal this farm from our brother. She is the most greedy, self-centered person I have ever known.”

“Damn her!” Lucinda said, slamming the remote into the floor. Everyone flinched as they watched it bounce, but no one said a word.

“Anyone want a sister from hell? I’ll sell her cheap. Damn, I’ll pay you to take her off my hands,” Lucinda said and stalked out of the room. Furious with her sister, embarrassed in front of her colleagues and frustrated with her inability to help Freddy, Lucinda paced back and forth in the dining room, her fists clenched tight by her sides.

Ted stepped in front of her, putting a hand on each shoulder. She jerked away from his touch. “Get out of my way, Ted.”

“Lucinda . . .”

“I’m warning you.”

Ted backed away, passing Jake as he left the room, and shrugging his shoulders in response to the questions on the agent’s face. Jake came to a stop before intruding into Lucinda’s space. “Lieutenant, we have a job to do.”

“Oh, Mr. Special Agent, are you critiquing my performance? Would you please tell me what I haven’t done or haven’t done correctly? Please, enlighten me.”

“Cut the crap. You need to let this go and calm down.”

“The hell I do. I need to fume. I need to pace. I need to burn off my anger so I can focus. Can you understand that, Special Agent man?”

Jake paused, looked at her and said, “Actually, I can. But could you please stop taking it out on all the rest of us?”

Lucinda knew he was right but she glared at him anyway and resumed her fast walk, back and forth across the room. She jerked to a stop when the telephone rang, switching gears without a moment’s hesitation. She barreled into the living room, slapping on a pair of headphones. By the end of the second ring, Jake was by her side, donning his pair. Lucinda nodded to Victoria.

With a trembling hand, the woman picked up the receiver. “Hello?” she said in a cracking voice.

The voice of Freddy’s kidnapper filled Jake and Lucinda’s ears as he spoke to his erstwhile girlfriend. “Tell the cops to stop wasting their time trying to trace this call. I’ll let them know exactly where I am in the morning. They won’t have any trouble finding me.”

“Freddy?” Victoria asked.

“The boy’s fine.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“No time. Here’s what I need. Listen carefully and don’t screw it up. I need a candy apple red ’68 Camaro with a Hurst shifter and a big block eight delivered to my front door.”

Lucinda’s jaw dropped. She looked at Jake who smiled and nodded his head.
Jake’s impressed?

“A what?” Victoria asked.

“You’re recording this, right?”

“Uh, uh …” Victoria darted frantic eyes to Lucinda.

“Of course, you are. I also need a fast, seaworthy boat with a pilot and supplies waiting for me in slip seventeen at the Atlantic Yacht Basin in Norfolk. They’ve got live streaming video online. So don’t even think of setting a trap up there.”

“Then I’ll get Freddy?”

“I’ll tell you how it will all go down in the morning. No surprises for anybody. Just start getting it ready.”

“But, Jason––”

“Tomorrow. Goodbye.” The click of the phone made Lucinda wince. She turned to the audio technician with anxious expectation etching deep lines in her brow. He shook his head. He wasn’t able to trace the call.

Thirty-Eight

Freddy hated the feeling that rested like a burning ball of slime in the middle of his body. He knew it was a combination of his fear and the disgust he felt over being so stupid. Understanding the reason behind it all didn’t make it go away, though. In fact, the more he thought about it, the worse it became, but he couldn’t put it out of his mind.

He tried to calm down but when he closed his eyes in search of peace, a video ran in his head – one that made him feel like a childish dumb-bell. He’d been stretched out on his bed when he heard Jason’s voice. “Hey, Freddy!”

His initial reaction was the right one. He bolted upright, as his heart lurched into a hard, fast, throat-clenching rhythm. His nerve endings jangled as adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. His muscles all tensed in instinctual preparation to react to any emergency. He held his breath, listening and assessing the danger he faced.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, little man. I just need your help. I’ve got a surprise out in the car for your grandmother. It’s not too heavy but it’s bulky. Put down your book and give me a hand, okay?”

When Freddy thought about his reaction, self-hate and loathing oozed from his pores, making him feel soiled, greasy and repulsive. He despised himself for reacting just as Jason knew he would – he got excited like a little kid and jumped off the bed, saying, “What is it?”

“Come see!” Jason said and Freddy followed him out of the bedroom. At the top of the stairs, Jason paused, placed an index finger on his lips and pantomimed sneaking down the stairs.

Freddy threw a hand across his mouth to hold in the giggles that threatened to tickle his lip. He crept down the stairs, with extravagant care, making sure no sound reached his grandmother in the kitchen preparing dinner.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Jason led him to the back of the car, prolonging the moment by waving around the key fob without pressing the button.
And I bought into it. I bounced up and down and whispered, “Open it, open it!”

“All right, little man, here you go!” Jason said. After that, everything moved too quickly, as if someone pressed the fast forward button on the remote control. He wasn’t sure of what was happening until the lid of the trunk slammed over his head. He squeezed his eyes tight and jiggled his legs to stave off the simultaneous urges to let loose his bladder and burst into tears.

Now, he sat with his wrists bound together, his arms tied behind his back and his ankles fastened to the legs of a chair.
How could I be so dumb? I’m supposed to be smart. I was a baby – a stupid baby – and I didn’t get just me in trouble.
He looked to his right, at the nice farm lady, Miss Martha. Jason busted intoher house a couple of hours earlier, yelling and threatening, pushing and shoving. Freddy knew the lady was frightened when Jason tossed him at her feet but she took care of him and soothed him doing her best to hide her own fear.

Now, they sat side-by-side, , with her limbs bound and her mouth duct-taped like his. She tried to smile at him with her eyes. But he knew she was still scared – a constant quiver ran through her body, sometimes getting so intense it made the chair legs clatter on the vinyl floor.

Past her was another chair, with Miss Martha’s husband, Mr. Frank, secured to its frame. Freddy never noticed any fear in Mr. Frank’s eyes. But he did see flashes of rage burn in them, that he covered up quickly with a vacant stare. That blank look was on Mr. Frank’s face now, filling Freddy with terror.
We’re all gonna die!
A whimper escaped from behind Freddy’s duct tape.

Ms. Martha jerked her head in his direction. The intensity of her stare sent waves of warmth and comfort across the space between them. Freddy knew she was as helpless as he was, but somehow she seemed to have a power he could not define – a strength that would not bend. He flared his nostrils and pulled in a full chest of air, absorbing some of her energy. His shoulders relaxed and he gave her a nod. He couldn’t see her mouth, but somehow Freddy knew she smiled.

That instant of hope shattered as Jason re-entered the room. He walked toward Freddy, not stopping until they were toe to toe. He bent over and brought his nose right up into Freddy’s face. “Well, little man, time to call your Grammy.” Jason straightened up and walked to the phone mounted on the wall.

Freddy listened, every word ratcheting up his fear. His insides felt like a wet washcloth held in a large, strong hand that squeezed without mercy. He wondered if his stomach could get so tight it would explode – if he could die, right here in the chair, without Jason ever raising a hand to harm him.

He heard his abductor saying that he would tell them what would happen when he called back in the morning.
That’s the hardest part –
Freddy fretted
– the not knowing what’s coming next
.
But if he’s calling in the morning, that means I will live through the night.
Then, he remembered what happened when one of them made Jason mad and his hope died with the memory.

Earlier that evening, Mr. Frank raised his chair up off the floor and lunged. Jason stepped aside and laughed as Mr. Frank fell, face first, into the wood stove. Jason chuckled as he picked up the man and the chair and positioned him back next to his wife. He walked in front of Miss Martha, with a grin. Suddenly, a flash of movement filled the space in front of her face, as Jason back-handed her so hard he knocked over the chair – the back of Miss Martha’s head barely missing the radiator as she landed on her back.
It could have killed her.

Now, disconnected from the phone, Jason laughed again, stopping in front of Freddy’s chair. “Well, little man, looks like I’m going to need your help again.”

Bile churned and shot up into Freddy’s throat. He wanted to throw up but he knew with the duct tape on his mouth, he had no place to hurl. He swallowed hard over and over again as Jason unfastened his legs and arms from the chair, leaving his wrists bound. “Up!” he shouted at Freddy.

The boy tried to rise but the prolonged time in the chair made his knees and back stiff. Jason grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his head and jerked him upright. “Now, Miss Martha, Mr. Frank, you sit still down here. If I hear one little sound of movement, I’ll kill the boy and then I’ll come down here and find out what’s going on. Are we clear on that?”

Freddy saw them nod before Jason jerked on his hair again and led him up the steps into the couple’s bedroom and over to the computer in the corner. “Now, little man, I’m going to untie your hands. But you try anything – no matter how silly – I’m going to haul you downstairs and make you watch while I kill those two and then I’ll kill you. You got that?”

Freddy nodded. Jason untied the knots on Freddy’s wrists and shoved the boy into the desk chair. “I want you to be my research assistant. You’ve heard of extradition treaties?”

Freddy’s brow furrowed and then he nodded.

“Okay, little man, this is what you need to do. I want to know which countries don’t have one with the good, old U S of A.”

Freddy put his hands on the keyboard. He struggled to make his numb fingers work. After two clumsy attempts, he managed to bring up locations on the Google search page. The first link he clicked led to a long list of countries with the extradition status detailed beside each one.

Jason clunked the back of Freddy’s head with the butt of his palm. “You can do better than that. I just want to see the ones without a treaty – not a list of countries, all mixed up.”

Freddy clicked back to the search results and connected with another link.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about, little man.”

Jason read through the list of countries that maintained diplomatic relations with the United States but had no extradition treaty. Then he saw the list of those nations that had neither treaty nor relations. He tapped on the screen. “This is it,” he said and read out loud, ‘Andorra, Angola, Bantu Homelands, Bhutan, Bosnia, Cambodia, Ciskei, Cuba, Iran, North Korea, Libya, Maldives, Serbia, Somalia, Taiwan, Transkei, Vanuatu and Vietnam. Never heard of at least half of them. I know North Korea is a hellhole – and it’s too far away. So are Vietnam, the Maldives, Taiwan and Cambodia. Shit! Cuba? That’s it? Nothing else? Cuba? Why not Venezuela? I’d rather go there. It’s a big place – lots of pretty country to get lost in. What do you think is wrong with that Chavez, little man? You’d think he would have cancelled all the treaties with the big white devil, wouldn’t you?”

Freddy shrugged his shoulders.

“Wish I could take off that duct tape and let you talk. You’re smart enough; you could do me some good if you wanted to. But I know I can’t trust what you’d say. And I don’t trust those teeth of yours – kids bite and I bet you’d try. Well, little man, Cuba it is. Let’s go join the party downstairs.” He entwined his fingers in a hank of Freddy’s hair, forcing him to his feet and down to the first floor.

Tied back into his chair, Freddy mulled over the experience at the computer.
Cuba? I’m just a kid and I know that Cuba is a stupid idea. What does he think, they’ll rush out in the surf to greet the boat and give him a ticker tape parade through Havana? He’s dumber than I thought. I can use that. I know I can use that. I just have to figure out how.