Runaway (14 page)

And the second message:
“It’s Catherine again. Sorry if I seem like a pest. I’m just wondering if you got my message earlier. Would love to see you if I can. Maybe you’re busy. I suppose you have a whole life I still know nothing about. I’m being presumptuous. Can’t help wanting to see you, though. Call me if you can.”

Jan threw the phone back down. She didn’t toss it onto the seat, but threw it into the well of the passenger side, out of reach. She tried to guess what Catherine imagined Jan’s life was so busy with that she couldn’t call her back. Parties, theater dates, poetry readings, cooking dinner for friends? Those were the kinds of things that probably kept Catherine and her artsy girlfriend busy on the weekends, while Jan patrolled her apartment looking for things to clean. Was Catherine planning on telling Jan about her relationship? Probably not. Jan was a proverbial port in the storm, to be forgotten as soon as Catherine went back to England and her high profile life.

There was more on the Internet about Catherine than just her relationship with the painter. There was the news that Catherine had been an officer at MI6, the British security agency. She’d left the agency four years earlier, a fact revealed in an
Evening Standard
piece on “The Painter and the Spy.” The gay and lesbian websites had a lot of fun with that, though Jan didn’t imagine it went down well in MI6 headquarters. She wondered why Catherine left. Surely not to join Chartered Global Security. It was a step down, as far as Jan could tell.

Halfway to Detroit, the phone rang again, still out of reach. She pulled into the emergency lane and scooped up the phone. It was Catherine again, and Jan waited for her voice mail.

“Now you’ll think I’m a clingy, needy thing who can’t stop ringing you. You’ll have the constables called on me. But I’m not needy or clingy as a general rule; you can feel safe about that. I am, I’m afraid, rather desperate to talk to you, though, and I’m not quite sure what that’s about. I just have a bad feeling. I feel deep down that you would call if there weren’t something wrong. Would you put me out of my misery please and give me a ring?”

Jan felt her resolve weakening. She pulled back on to the interstate and tried to empty her mind of everything except Maddy Harrington. She’d find her or find something out about her from someone. She’d follow the lead, which would then take her to another lead, and so on until she found Maddy. She understood how to do that and felt confident. What she didn’t know how to do was let Catherine know she’d found out about her girlfriend. She wouldn’t admit to Catherine that she’d managed to break her heart after one night together. She threw the phone under the seat.

Chapter Six

Jan checked out of the Super 8 Motel and headed south out of Ypsilanti. She’d plotted a course that would take her through several counties of southeastern Michigan, each of which contained at least a few of the advertised gathering spots for the known militia and survivalist groups. She knew from scouring Maddy’s Internet activity that she’d concentrated on the websites of two or three groups in particular, and it would take most of the day to cover the ground necessary to reach their locations.

She felt relieved to be on the road. The long night in the motel had amped up her already agitated state. She spent all her waking time on the Internet, rereading the articles on Catherine as if compiling more evidence of her callousness would make her feel better. She didn’t miss the irony of thinking Catherine was callous, a label she’d been pasted with herself by more than one bed partner. And wasn’t that what she was to Catherine, a bed partner? Well, so what? That would have been the attitude she’d normally have herself. But there had been too much fire the couple of times she’d been with Catherine to compare it to any past experience, and the idea of not having more of it was causing too much pain. She stood a far better chance of finding Maddy than of finding a solution to her Catherine problem.

After an hour on Highway 23, she veered east and pulled into a gas station in a tiny town along a county road. She picked up some bottled water and paid for her gas in the store. The clerk was a spotty teenager with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his camouflage cap pulled low.

“Quiet around here,” Jan said.

He squinted at her through the smoke. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m trying to find an outfit called the Third Regimental Militia. I think they train around here. You know anything about them?”

“Nope.” He handed over her change and turned away to continue stocking condoms on a rack.

“Does that mean you’ve never heard of them?”

He glanced back at her. “I’ve heard of them. I just don’t know anything about them. Ain’t my business.”

“You never thought of joining up?” Jan asked.

“Hell, no. Bunch of losers. They’re all like my dad’s age. It’s pathetic.”

“So you don’t agree with their philosophy?”

“I don’t know shit about their philosophy. I just know I won’t be caught dead running around the woods playing army. They come in here sometimes after they’ve been out training. It’s so sad.”

Jan passed a photo of Maddy across the counter. “You ever see this girl around here?”

The boy studied the photo. “You mean with these Third Regiment guys? You’re joking? She’s like my age. And a girl.”

“That’s a no?”

He stubbed out his cigarette and laughed. “It’s a no. If you’re thinking these guys are some sort of evil gang kidnapping girls and shit, you’re way wrong.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know how you can tell people are badasses? These guys aren’t that. I think they just like to play with guns.”

Jan left him with a card and the photo and got a promise that he’d call if Maddy showed up. She headed back on the county road and followed it through a densely wooded stretch before braking sharply to pull into a small gravel parking lot that served as a trailhead. The lot was full of pickup trucks, and at one end of it a card table was set up with a sign that said “Third Regiment—Sign In.” A middle-aged man sat at the table wearing cammies, and he appeared to be the only person around. He watched as Jan parked and walked toward him, his hand reaching for a walkie-talkie sitting on the table.

“Good morning,” he said, politely enough. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning. My name is Jan Roberts and I’m investigating the disappearance of a minor from the Chicago area.”

The man looked alarmed. “Why are you here?”

Jan passed another copy of the photo over. “We have reason to believe she was interested in joining up with one of the militia groups in this area. Have you seen her?”

“Goodness, no. She’s just a child. We have no minors as members of our group.”

Jan looked closely at the man and saw someone who would be happy as a member of the Lions or Elks or Moose or some other community service organization that gave men a reason to hang out together. Maybe they didn’t have those places anymore.

“I don’t imagine you’d mind if I take a look myself?” Jan said.

“Oh, I couldn’t let you just go back there. This is a private organization, after all, and they’re back there with real guns. I think you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

Jan paused. “I think we can find some compromise here. This looks like public land. There’s nothing stopping me from heading in there if I chose to. But why don’t you pick up your radio and call your, what would you call him, your superior officer? Let him know it’s important I talk to him to eliminate your group from suspicion.”

The man looked seriously worried, but he picked up the radio. “Base to Leader.”

Jan watched as he stared at the crackling radio. When the response came he jumped a little, as if it were the last thing he expected to happen.

“What’s up, Hap?”

“We have a lady here I think you need to talk to. She seems to think we have some girl back there with you all.”

They spent an inordinate amount of time trying to understand each other, while Jan wondered if she should even waste her time going back there. Her gut told her Maddy hadn’t joined up with these folks. Still, when a man trotted out to escort her to the training site, Jan was curious enough.

“I’m John Gage,” he said, extending his hand. “How is it we can help you?”

When Jan explained her search for Maddy and why she was looking at local militias, John started walking with her toward the trail.

“You’re welcome to come back and see our training site. The last thing we want is to have anyone thinking we’re harboring minors. We have enough bad press as it is.”

“Do you mean you, the Third Regiment?”

“We’re all painted with the same brush down here. Just the word ‘militia’ makes everyone think we’re like Timothy McVeigh, that bastard. Excuse my French.”

“So you’re not plotting to overthrow the government?”

“No, ma’am.”

“How would you describe your outfit?”

“I’d say we’re all citizens who are proud of using the word militia in its original sense of the word. A group of regular men who care about their community and want to protect it should there be a breakdown of law and order, or a catastrophe of some sort. We’re not here to cause the breakdown or catastrophe.”

“Is it all men in your group?” Jan asked.

“There are two women, but you probably won’t be able to pick them out covered up in their cammies. They’re about as tough as they come. Good girls, though.”

They followed a trail for a hundred yards or so to a clearing. There were about two acres of land and a small pond surrounded by the woods and dotted with groups of men doing all kinds of things that Jan couldn’t take in all at once. Target practice was on one side of the clearing, people were grappling with each other in the middle, and other groups were exercising and marching here and there. She saw a line of men coming into the clearing from the other side of the pond, rifles at the ready and helmets on their heads. Apparently, they’d just been on some kind of scouting mission.

John led her over to the hand-to-hand combat fighters, where a tall man in a pristine BDU was overseeing the action.

“Colonel, this is that lady from Chicago that Hap called in about. I think you should set her straight that we don’t have any teenage girls here.”

The colonel looked down at Jan with a frozen expression on his face. It was impossible for Jan to not flash back to another clearing in the woods, another colonel, a cold gaze looking down at her. She disliked the man on sight.

She explained why she was looking for Maddy and handed him the photo. The colonel made no move to take it.

“Never seen her.”

“Is it possible that she’s here without you knowing it? There’re a lot of folks out there, and from here they all look alike.”

“Not possible. I know all of my soldiers.”

“Okay. It won’t bother you, I assume, if I just walk around? It would help me to get a sense of what you all are doing during these training camps.”

The colonel’s expression remained unchanged. “I’d appreciate it if you’d allow Lieutenant Gage to escort you back to your car. I won’t have our training time disrupted.”

Jan stared back at the man, weighing her options. There weren’t many. She could leave kicking and screaming, or she could leave on her own. She didn’t doubt she had to leave, for she recognized the steel in his eyes.

“I hope you realize that I will find this girl, and if we find that she’s being harbored by, or worse, held by your outfit here it will be very bad for you.”

The colonel didn’t react. “Your girl is not here. I have no use for her.”

Jan believed him. He was a man who brooked no nonsense, and having a teenage girl in his camp would be a whole lot of nonsense in his eyes. She turned without saying good-bye and marched back through the woods, with Gage trying to keep up beside her. She gave him a card before climbing into her car.

“He’s all business during training, but the colonel’s really a nice guy. He’s the pastor at the Methodist church,” Gage said.

“I’m sure he’s a sweetheart,” Jan said and drove off. She pulled at her collar as if it were choking her. If this fake colonel weren’t tall like her father, weren’t dressed in uniform like her father, if he didn’t glare at her like her father, the interview would be just one of a thousand she’d conducted in her years as an investigator. The kind where her instinct and experience guided her. Instead, it felt like Jan had been the one under scrutiny. She felt uncomfortable to the bone.

She pulled into a roadhouse for coffee and a sandwich and texted Peet with details of her next location and her estimated arrival time. Peet should be well on her way to the area by now and she’d be glad for the company. She wasn’t sure she was able to read these militia guys correctly. Peet’s presence would calm her down. It always did.

A text came in from Peet: “Place and Time received. You’ll be met there.” Seemed a pretty odd way to put it, Jan thought.

*

Maddy’s head felt fine as she stood in formation early Sunday morning. The man who had hit her on the helmet the night before stood at attention across from her in one of the four lines formed up to listen to Sergeant Drecker run down the day’s activities. He cast a malevolent eye at her, which Kristi returned in kind. Maddy felt an intense longing for her computer and a quiet room.

“Last night’s exercises ran you through the basics of night ops. Today, we cover as much as we can fit in that will give you the elements of basic guerilla techniques. Why guerilla warfare? Isn’t that what those folks resort to against our army? If you’re asking yourself those questions, I need only point you to our founders, folks, a guerilla army without peer. We’re not here to play like we’re in the US Army. We’re here to prepare ourselves to protect against an army. We are a militia. We arm ourselves and we use what is at hand.

“Today, we’ll use the varied terrain on our land to practice ambush techniques, escape and evasion, firing and reloading under high stress conditions, hand signals, use of spotting scopes, and radio communications. We will end the day with a hostage silhouette shoot off. Those of you with your own weapons, prepare to present them for inspection. Those using our weapons, report to Corporal Gast.”