Searching for Secrets (6 page)

"They may not be so polite about it, you know," Christa said.

As usual, she had irritated him. "Look..." His expression softened somewhat. "You'll have to use your best judgment if they're pointing a gun at you. All I'm saying is you're a lot safer in plain view than you are if they get you in a car." He looked away and then back at her. "I don't want anything to happen to you, either."

With that, he slammed the door and walked away. Christa pulled the car back into traffic with his words ringing in her ears. She told herself that he wasn't so much concerned about her well-being as getting Amy back. If anything were to happen to Christa, it wouldn't bode well for the little girl's safety.

She concentrated on her surroundings as she pulled into the small parking lot. There was no one there but the Frisbee players. Should she wait in the car? Probably not, she thought, and got out and walked over to the picnic table farthest away from the telephone. Christa glanced at the couple throwing a Frisbee in the open area about one hundred yards away. She looked away quickly, not wanting to call attention to Kirk's undercover officers.

The phone startled her. She forced herself to relax. Probably a teenager looking for his buddies. The incessant ringing broke the calm of the cool fall day. That was it! She ran over to the phone and picked it up.

"Drive to the City Park. People are watching you. Talk to no one. Go to the far end of the park, near the tennis courts. You'll see the maintenance shed just to the left of the courts. Go behind it. You have seven minutes." The caller hung up.

Christa stared at the phone for a moment, then replaced the receiver and ran to her car. She backed out of the parking space and turned right onto Rocky Shore Drive. Seven minutes was just barely enough time.

CHAPTER FOUR

KIRK COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. What in blazes was she doing driving away and where could she be going? "Follow her," he shouted to Mark Hadley, the van's driver.

"If I do, they'll mark us," he said.

"If we don't, we'll lose her," Kirk responded, frustration and fear mounting. He should have thought of this. He was so busy organizing the surreptitious group of officers that it hadn't occurred to him that the kidnappers would instruct Christa to go elsewhere.

Silently he prayed. Dear God, let her be okay. Amy's face flashed in front of him as the van followed Christa as she turned left onto Route 6. Involuntarily his thoughts shifted to Christa. His lack of preparedness could get her and Amy killed. Just like Timmy.

She made another left onto Riverside Drive and sped north. He hoped there were no other police in the area. She'd get pulled over for sure.

"Where do you suppose she's going?" Hadley asked as he rounded a curve.

"City Park," he heard himself say, calmly. It made sense. The large park had the river on three sides and, though still fairly open, had lots more secluded sections than the smaller Crandic Park.

"You think so? I thought maybe she was heading toward Hancher Auditorium," Hadley said.

Kirk thought about that for a moment. The arts center with its large auditorium and nearby additional theater would also be a good site. The parking lot was huge and while there were large open spaces around the complex, it would be just as easy to slip inside the auditorium and make the switch. If they intended to let her go.

"Stay in the middle lane. Could be either place." Or any number of places. Why didn't Christa try to give them some kind of signal?

IF ONLY SHE COULD THINK OF A WAY to tell them where she was going. Christa looked in her rear view mirror. The van remained several car lengths away. All she had to do was make sure she used her blinker well in advance and they could stay with her. Could the kidnappers be following her as well? She dared not try to make contact with Kirk.

She was going to turn left on Park Road, just after she passed the Hancher Auditorium. She stayed in the middle lane, glancing often in her rear view mirror. Her thoughts went briefly to Frances, sitting in her apartment, waiting for a call. It was past the rendezvous time. She must be frantic.

Behind her, she saw the van get in the right lane as if it were going to Hancher Auditorium. Why would they do that? She put on her left blinker and prepared to get on Park Road. Abruptly the van tried to merge left, but there was too much traffic. She was going to get through this light cycle, and the van wouldn't. She knew Kirk couldn't risk alerting the kidnappers to the van's occupants by honking the horn or otherwise forcing the motorists through a red light.

Eight minutes had gone by. She couldn't afford to slow down to wait for the van. A large sign announced the park's entrance. She started to turn left, then realized one of the park entrances was directly in front of her. Christa tried to remember exactly how to drive toward the tennis courts. She followed the road, taking in the baseball diamonds that littered the large open spaces. The river was on her right; she thought the tennis courts were to the left of the river, but since the river took a sharp left as it meandered through the park, she wasn't sure. Then it came back to her. The courts were near the largest of the play areas for young children.

She veered left, tires screeching. A jogger in front of her stopped and walked a few paces off the road. If you think I'm dangerous, you should see who else is in the park. The river was now behind her and the courts were on her right. She was way past seven minutes. She only hoped there wasn't a phone there, its ring going unanswered. She drove up to the white maintenance shed and parked with a jolt.

Christa grabbed the canvas bag with the hard drives, and ran toward the structure. She looked right, then left, trying to see anyone who might be waiting for her. Christa nearly screamed when the man, ski mask covering his features, walked from behind the right side of the building. "Slow down, teacher," he said.

He moved back behind the building and gestured that she should follow him. Heart pounding, Christa clutched the bag to her chest and did as he commanded. Amy appeared. She looked frightened, but unhurt, and Christa held the bag in one hand and extended both arms. The man let her go easily, and with a sob the little girl ran to Christa. "Oh, sweetie, you're okay. Everything's all right." Christa stroked her hair and did her best not to glare at the kidnapper. They had to get away from him.

"The bag, lady, the bag." He held his hand out and moved closer, and Christa slid the bag off her arm and gave it to him. "It better all be...what the hell is this?" He pulled out a hard drive wrapped in the North American map.

"It's all I had to wrap them in," she said. She didn't need to see his face to see he was suspicious. "Unwrap them, you'll see." Christa dropped to one knee and looked into the eyes of a slightly calmer Amy. "We'll see your mom in just a few minutes. Can you keep your chin up just a little longer?"

Amy nodded, and turned to stare at her former captor.

Christa looked at the man, willing herself to remember every detail, from his dark ski mask to the black sneakers. He was too far away to see if his eyes were the same blue as the man in the parking garage.

"All right, there's three here. Any dumb moves and the man hiding behind you will shoot the both of youse." With that, he turned and ran up the hill behind the shed. Christa had no idea where it went, she was just glad he was gone.

The both of youse? Christa marked the dialect as that of New York, or at least New York as it was portrayed in gangster movies. She turned her full attention to Amy and gave her another hug. "Where's your doll?" she asked, as she took Amy's hand and walked quickly toward the car.

"I left her there," Amy said, and Christa thought she detected a triumphant tone in her voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll get you another one." Christa opened the passenger side car door, looking around as she did so. Where in the daylights was Kirk?

She ran to the other side of the car, got in quickly and put her keys in the ignition. "Why do you have mommy's car?" Amy asked as Christa sped out of the parking area toward the main park entrance.

"The bad guys slashed the tires on Uncle Kirk's truck and my car," she said. It was so long ago she hadn't thought of it. No one in the rear view mirror. The man must have been bluffing about someone watching nearby.

The rapid honking ahead of her drew Christa's attention to the van, which careened toward them. "Look out!" Amy yelled.

"Don't worry. It's Kirk." Christa figured it was the relief of having Amy safely seated next to her that gave her the pleasant rush of feelings. She pulled to the curb and smiled at Amy. "I bet you can't wait to see him."

With a quick grin, Amy unclicked her seat belt, opened the car door, and ran toward her uncle. Kirk moved across the pavement in three long strides and swung Amy in the air before crushing her in a hug. He held her to his chest, and for a moment Christa imagined that he was greeting her with the same enthusiasm. What a ridiculous thought. He wasn't about to embrace the woman he probably saw as responsible for his niece's horrible experience.

As Kirk put Amy down Christa noticed the leather strap he wore under his jacket and saw the tip of the black leather holster. He had been ready for anything.

Amy placed her hand in Kirk's as they walked together over to Christa. "Are you all right?" he asked Christa, more solicitously than she expected.

"I'm fine. I wish I could have figured out a way to tell where I was going, but the man on the phone said to talk to no one." She quashed an impetuous urge to slip her hand around his arm as they walked toward Frances' car.

"You did the right thing," Kirk said.

"I'm the one who screwed up," Mark Hadley said as he stepped out of the van. "I thought you were veering toward Hancher Auditorium, and I got in the far right lane." He walked toward them, looking glum.

"No harm done," Christa said. "The guy didn't want to stick around and wait for a welcoming party." Kirk said nothing. She didn't think he looked as ready to forget the mistake. He didn't strike her as the kind to hold a grudge, but it was his niece who was in such danger.

"Amy," Kirk stooped to look his niece in the eye. "Is there anything you can tell Mark and me about the men who took you, or the car they drove?"

Amy shook her head. "They put their hands over my eyes, and then a blindfold. I started to cry, and they said pretend it was like pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. And then they told me they would take the blindfold off if I would sit in the bathroom. And I sat in there, and they gave me french fries and a soda."

It was a lengthy speech for a child who had been through such a horrible ordeal. Christa thought she was amazingly self-possessed. Then again, if you had to deal with your big brother dying, what could be worse than that?

"I'm glad it's over," Kirk said. "Some of my other police friends will ask you some more questions later. Just tell them what you remember." She merely nodded, and lifted her arms for him to pick her up. It was a gesture characteristic of a much younger child, and Christa longed to be the one to comfort her.

Kirk picked her up and she put her head on his shoulder. With a hand gently rubbing her back he turned to Mark Hadley. "Amy and Christa and I will go back to Frances' place in her car. You call off the search, would you?"

"Actually," Christa said, "he went up that hill." She pointed behind her. "He's all dressed in black, wearing a ski mask."

"Have the guys search those woods and the neighborhood behind them. Normandy Drive, I think it is."

"Sure. You want me to send a sketch artist over to Frances' apartment?" Mark asked.

"At her age, I don't see that it would do much good. Check with the captain." With that, Kirk turned to Christa. "Why don't you drive, and I'll hang onto this bag of potatoes here."

"Uncle Kirk," said a suddenly sleepy Amy. "You're so weird."

As she opened the car door, Christa looked across at Kirk, who was opening the door on the passenger side of the car. He gave her a delighted grin and she returned it. Lord, he's handsome when he smiles.

They drove in silence at first. Kirk had placed the seatbelt around him and Amy, a procedure Christa knew could warrant a ticket. She figured he earned the right to hold his niece, and she was even more cautious than usual as she drove.

Would the kidnapper be able to tell that she switched the hard drives? If so, how long would it take him to find out? She needed to tell Kirk what she had done, would tell him as soon as Amy was with Frances. She couldn't guess if he would be pleased or furious. With Amy safely home, she hoped he would consider the kidnapper's hard drive, with its mystery file, a helpful piece of the puzzle.

She turned onto Highway 6. Mahaska Springs was less than two miles away. She longed for the seclusion of the apartment complex and her own apartment. She glanced to the right, and noticed Amy sleeping on Kirk's lap. "I told her I'd get her another rag doll," she said softly.

Christa nodded. He was simply being so friendly now because he was relieved to have Amy. She turned up the long driveway that led to the apartments. "Amy. Do you recognize this swimming pool?"

Amy sat up, and her tiredness seemed to vanish. "Oh. We're home. Our new home."