Sufficient Ransom (34 page)

Todd’s thoughts drifted to the situation at hand. He had been rash. In telling Cristina the truth about why he had given her up, he had jeopardized their entire operation. He prayed Chet had been careful and thorough.

His phone’s shrill tones jarred the silence. Todd struggled to his feet. “Chet!” he cried. “Where are you?”

5:00 P.M
.

A
nn stepped into Room 3 at the Pine Wood Victorian Bed and Breakfast and flicked on the light. “Do you believe what the manager told us?” she said to her husband as she shut the door. “The town’s bracing for a lot of visitors this weekend. The retreat’s gonna be packed.”

Richard swung his bag onto the double bed. “We’re lucky they had a last minute cancellation.”

“This place is Victorian all right. It’s so musty in here.” Ann walked to the window and pushed the lace curtains aside. A wave of dust drifted onto the white painted table propped against the window. The inn’s parking lot was jammed with cars. “We’ll need more information on the campsite.”

While Richard drove, Ann had used her phone to book their room. She mapped out the retreat site, the police, and fire stations. In Pine Wood, they drove past the wooded camp and by the police station. They wanted to be prepared for what lay ahead.

“I’ll pick up some dinner,” Richard said. “Then we’ll make our plans.”

Ann lay down on the double bed and nursed her thoughts. According to New Way’s website, the kick-off dinner would start at six this evening. She glanced at her watch. In one hour. From their reconnaissance, they had discovered that the retreat site was surrounded by a twelve-foot-high chain link fence as far as they could see. Large signs posted at the entrance notified retreat participants that identification was required to enter. Two burly men with German Shepherds were stopping arrivals and checking identification. A self-storage facility, a bait and tackle shop, and a car repair business, in a small strip mall across the street from the compound, were all shuttered.

Richard had stopped the car a few yards past the entrance to the compound and pretended to consult a map while Ann craned her neck to see what was going on at the gates. Minutes later, Richard pulled into the gravel driveway and signaled for one of the guards to come to the car. The beefier of the two men had sidled over.

Richard had insisted the fake name he gave the guard was mistakenly left off the guest list. The guard refused them entry. Richard had pulled away, but not before learning some important facts about the site. There were cabins scattered throughout the wooded property. Big tents at the back of the property housed the larger families. There were several buildings used for meetings, a few fields, and a small lake. A second entrance to the compound was located on the main plaza in the center of town. This pedestrian-only entrance, the guard explained, was also manned. “To keep out the townies,” he had said with a toothy smile.

Richard entered their hotel room, carrying bags filled with food. “I bring Chinese food and great news,” he said, smiling.

Ann scooted off the bed. “What?”

“They found Sabela Villarreal alive.”

“How did you find out?”

Richard placed the food on the table by the window. Then he pulled the table and two chairs away from the wall, so they would have room to sit. “It’s all over the radio,” he said, lifting take-out boxes from the bags. “I’ll tell you while we eat. I’m starving.”

Buoyed by the news that Sabela Villarreal had been found, Ann’s appetite exploded. Twice piling her paper plate with food, she listened to Richard recount the details. Sabela was found in a wooded area in the rural community of Ramona, thirty miles east of San Diego. A group of hikers had spotted Sabela lying unconscious, on the ground, near a trail. She was dressed in a dirty sweater, pants, and muddy sneakers. Unable to rouse the child, the hikers called 911. The child was airlifted to Hillcrest Hospital where it was determined she was in a coma.

Ann imagined the joy Reyna Villarreal and her husband must be feeling knowing their daughter was alive, though in a coma. She was hopeful she would be seeing Travis soon.

Between mouthfuls of orange chicken, Ann plied her husband with questions, most of which he was unable to answer. “I’m sure we’ll hear
more as the story unfolds,” Richard said, throwing his napkin down on his empty plate.

Ann reached for her phone. “I’ll call Tom again. He should have the details.” The detective’s voicemail came on. “Where could he be?” Next, she tried Julian Fox. “Why is no one answering?”

“Let’s talk about how we’re going to get into the compound,” Richard said.

Ann’s phone rang. The number on caller ID was familiar. “It’s Tom.” Ann listened to the detective, the blood draining from her face. The phone to her chest, she said to her husband, “They found Kika badly beaten. They don’t know if she’ll live.”

Richard took the phone from her. “Tom, Richard here. You’ve got to put out a warrant for Todd Pannikin and Chet March’s arrest. They did this to Kika. Pannikin is Kika’s real father and Nora March was her mother. Pannikin gave Kika away to keep her from her atheist mother.” He listened for a moment. “Exactly! That’s why they took Travis. To save him from his own parents. I know it’s crazy. Look at the other families. I bet everyone has a connection to New Way. You knew that already? Look, one of them did this to Kika. We have to get Travis out of there!”

Ann felt sick. Kika was fighting for her life.

Her husband hung up the phone.

“What did he say about Travis?”

Her husband’s brow was dark over his eyes. “We’re not to do anything. If Travis is in the camp, we could be risking his life.”

“What’re we going to do?”

His hand on the back on his head, Richard paced the room. “I don’t know.”

The excitement of the past hours had carried Ann through to this point. Now that her friend was badly hurt and the police had vetoed their plans to go after Travis, the old feeling of helplessness was creeping back. Ann lay down on the bed, her legs balled protectively to her chest. She wished there was something she could do to help Kika. The social worker had, in a short span of time, become so dear to her.

“When I get my hands on those bastards,” Richard said, “they’d better pray to their God for mercy. They won’t be getting any from me.”

When Ann looked up and saw her husband’s determined face, the will to fight coursed through her body like a life-giving fire. She sat up. “I swear as their God is my witness,” she said. “We’ll get Travis back and see those murderers rot in hell!”

5:30 P.M
.

C
het March was sweating. Neither the cold shower nor the blast of air conditioning in his motel room had done anything to cool his feverish body. Pastor Todd had reserved a cabin next to his own at the retreat site, but Chet couldn’t bring himself to go there. Luckily a vacancy had just opened up at the motel down the street. After what had happened in La Jolla, Chet was reluctant to deal with the eager faces and prying eyes of his parishioners.

Chet stood in front of the bathroom mirror. His cotton shirt had wilted with perspiration. Beads of it lined his upper lip. The palms of his welt-covered hands were moist and raw from all the scrubbing. He reached into his toiletry case and pulled out a bottle of lotion. He had to be particular about his hands today. If anyone saw even a hint of what had been there…

He slathered lotion over his hands and wiped his damp face and neck with a dry cloth. His bowels loosened at the thought of what the police would do to him when they found him. He had not one, but two crimes on his hands. He pictured his mother. The look of panic in her eyes when he had choked the life out of her. She had figured out his plan. She was going to tell the police. He had to stop her from ruining everything. The souls of innocent children were at stake.

His mother had never believed in him. “But I gave you everything, Chet,” she had whined. “My attention, my love, my money. What more do you want from me?” She had acted like
she
was the victim. His mother had never understood him. The atheist bitch.

Chet stepped out of his motel room, locked the door, and moved toward his parked car. Inside the vehicle, the air was damp and smelled of sweat and seawater. He cast a hurried glance around the parking lot, hoping no one had spotted him. His hands on the steering wheel, Chet tried to calm his nerves with deep breaths.

Before leaving for Pine Wood, Chet had hurried to the small beach down the hill from
her
house and plunged into the Pacific Ocean, fully
clothed. Desperate to get that smell out of his clothes and his hair, he hadn’t cared that people were staring at him. After the churning water had cleansed him, Chet had lain on the sand exhausted.

Back at his car, Chet had brushed the sand from his jeans and shirt and his skin, placed a towel on the driver’s seat, and started for Pine Wood. As they dried, his clothes had tightened around his arms and his legs, like a full body tourniquet. In spite of the air conditioning, sweat drenched Chet’s face and neck. All the way up into the mountains he had simmered in his own smelly juices.

He had thought of driving to Mexico and disappearing into the desert. Or into one of the many rundown villages off the beaten path. The Lord would keep him safe—Chet was sure of that. But he was tired. There would be roadblocks, German Shepherds, and men with guns hunting him.

Chet’s eyes felt like pasty stickers. Sweat ran down his collar. It was no use—he had to show up at the opening banquet to account for his time.
Please God! Help me get through this
. He turned his car sharply into the dirt parking lot inside the compound gates, found an empty spot, and parked.

Chet surveyed the hundreds of parents and their children sitting at the picnic tables and on blankets in the cool evening. The thought of being trapped with all these people who looked up to him as co-leader of their church, intensified his desire to bolt.

Pastor Todd nudged Chet toward the steaming vats of food at the buffet. Todd accepted a plate of meat from one of the volunteers and started helping himself to salad, mashed potatoes, and roasted corn. Chet glanced down at his own dish. The smell of food made his stomach turn.

He accompanied Todd to the long table reserved for New Way’s ministry leaders. After blessing the food, Todd cut into his steak. “Eat, my son,” he said between mouthfuls. “The food is good.

Chet picked at his food. Bloody juice oozed from the meat, staining the paper plate. He dropped his fork and looked away. He didn’t think he could ever eat meat again.

8:00 P.M
.

A
nn and Richard left their room and went down to talk to the manager at the inn where they were staying. They needed information about the New Way event so they could make their plans.

Carly, the manager, was a dark-haired woman dressed in the latest fashion—a designer tunic, bootcut jeans, and wedge heels. “There are a lot of kids at these events,” Carly said. “There’s a playground on site. Every year the church hires a local family to set up games. They provide equipment so the kids can fish the lake. The largest families are housed in the white tents at the back of the site. You should see some of these types,” she added, with a knowing look. “Dowdy mothers with a brood of kids in tow. You know the kind… No make-up, wearing the Walmart special. Sort of like the Amish, but less extreme.”

Ann remembered the boy from her childhood, the one who was beaten to death by his parents with a “biblical rod.” She broke into a cold sweat.
What if Travis is living with people like that?

“What else can you tell us?” Richard asked the manager.

Carly pushed her hair over her shoulder. “This is the third year New Way’s been coming up here. Every time there are more people. I guess the church is growing. Most of them are fine. Like I said though, the big families are a little weird. It’s also the first year they have armed guards at the gates. Last year they had some trouble with locals getting into the camp, teenagers mostly. Bikes and sports gear were reported missing. I guess this year they didn’t want to be bothered with any of that.”

Ann and Richard thanked Carly for the information and returned to their room. The door firmly shut behind them, Richard said, “I think Travis is in the camp.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Ann said.

“The way the manager described the big families,” Richard said. “One of them could have taken Travis in. Maybe even the other missing kids. This is New Way’s big event. If their goal is to raise Travis and the
others to be evangelical, what better way to do it? Show the children a good time
while
they indoctrinate them.”

Ann thought for a moment. “Remember the night I was worried about Chet? When he didn’t show up at the coffee shop.”

“What about it?”

“The woman who came running out of Diane’s place. She reminds me of these families, Carly described. The way she was dressed—she had that look. She was surprised to see me, almost like she knew who I was.”

“You’ve been in the papers a lot, Ann. People know your face now.”

Remembering, Ann shook her head. “Chet seemed weirded out too. He wanted to know how long I’d been out there. This woman and the man she was with—they were afraid of me, Richard. Maybe they’re the ones who have Travis.”

“The more I think about it,” Richard said. “We shouldn’t go along with Tom’s order to stay away from the camp. I don’t want to leave Travis’s rescue to law enforcement alone.”

The ruthless nature of the plot to steal their son, Nora’s murder, and the brutal attempt on Kika’s life had convinced Ann that Chet and Todd would do anything to see their scheme through. “We can’t take chances with Travis’s life,” she agreed. “No matter how well-intentioned the police are.”

A small town, Pine Wood was easy to get around on foot. The Olsons crossed the inn’s parking lot, down Main Street, and to Pine Wood Square—a brick-lined expanse bordered with businesses that catered to tourists. People were leaving the restaurants and gift shops. Steep mountains thick with pine and oak trees towered over the edge of the town. The cool air smelled of the woods and sweet earth.