The Election (26 page)

Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

Claudia had slept better Thursday night than the night before, but still her sleep was not completely restful. She couldn't rid herself of the horrible image she'd seen on the news of Milton's body lying on Broadway in Manhattan with a white cloth covering it. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw it. She tried to replace it with an image of Hudson's charming face, but it was impossible. And so was any more sleep.

She resolved to comply with Hudson's last request, but it all seemed like a jigsaw puzzle. A thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle at that, and she was missing five hundred of the pieces. She decided that the contents of the locker at Hartsfield and Jake Reed, whoever he was, held most, if not all, of the remaining pieces to the puzzle. To restore her own sanity, she had no choice but to go.

By seven o'clock she had showered, dressed, and packed a bag. She tucked the key to locker T-25 safely in the front-right pocket of her blue jeans, and the letter from Hudson in her duffel bag. The drive to Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta would take about four hours, she figured. She purchased an e-ticket online and printed out her boarding pass for the 12:50 p.m. Northwest flight bound for Memphis. From there she would take a rental car to Jackson and look for Jake Reed.

Claudia exited from the house into the garage. She pressed a button mounted on the wall beside the door, and the garage door began to retract, opening to a beautiful, sun-drenched morning. She threw her burgundy duffel bag into the backseat of the Jaguar and got in behind the wheel. She hated to leave but convinced herself that she had to honor Hudson's last request. She backed out of the garage, hesitated before backing into the street, and looked at the place that had been her personal Eden.

Who owned it now that Hudson was dead?

Would she ever be able to return?

It doesn't matter,
she told herself.
Everything about this place has been a lie
.

She eased out of the driveway, drove past the security gate that limited access to the Palmetto Dunes Plantation, and merged onto Queens Folly, which led out of the plantation. The Spanish moss dripping from the branches of the tall trees that stretched across the narrow two-lane road gave the appearance that Claudia was driving through a dimly lit tunnel. In a few minutes she reached William Hilton Parkway and turned north toward the bridge that crossed the Intracoastal Waterway and provided access to the mainland.

When Claudia reached the outskirts of Savannah, she exited I-95 onto I-16 north toward Macon. The area of Georgia between Savannah and Macon was less populated than the northern part of the state. Only a few small towns dotted the landscape near the interstate. The sparse scenery made an already long and mundane drive even longer. But Claudia didn't mind.

Then, about sixty miles south of Macon, she had a strange feeling. She couldn't explain it, but it was similar to what she'd experienced while shopping in Savannah. It was the feeling that someone was following her. She took inventory of the vehicles around her. There were only four. A gray Mercury Sable in front. Red minivan with Ohio license plate in the lane beside her, and slightly ahead. In the same lane, and behind her, was an eighteen-wheel tractor-trailer. In her driver's-side mirror she caught a glimpse of a gray Chevy Tahoe behind the semitractor.

Nothing seemed suspicious. Perhaps she was being overly cautious because of what had happened to Hudson. But that was understandable. If her suspicions about Hudson's death were correct, it was possible that whoever killed Hudson may also be planning to kill her. She convinced herself that she needed to be careful.

 

En route to Macon, Georgia

“Don't get too close,” Osborne instructed. Moyers was driving the gray Chevy Tahoe, two vehicles behind Claudia's Jaguar. “We don't want her to get suspicious.”

Al rolled his eyes. “I know. I know.”

“Why don't you pass her?” Bill suggested. “That way she won't think we're following her, and we can still track her with the GPS.”

Al accelerated the Tahoe an additional five miles per hour and moved into the inside lane of I-16. It took only a few seconds before the Tahoe overtook the semi-tractor and pulled parallel with Claudia's Jaguar. Claudia's natural reaction caused her to look into the window of the passing vehicle.

 

“That man looks familiar,” Claudia mumbled to herself. “I wonder where I've seen him before.”

When the vehicle passed her, Claudia noticed the South Carolina license plate.

Probably saw him on the island
.

 

Reed residence, Jackson, Tennessee

While Jake showered Friday morning, Rachel was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the two boys. It was already seven o'clock, and school started in an hour.

“Have either of you seen Courtney?” Rachel asked as she poured two glasses of milk.

“No, Mom,” replied Brett. “Her door was closed when I came down.”

“Me neither,” Jeremy said as he continued to watch the television on the kitchen countertop.

“She needs to hurry, or all of you will be late for school.”

Rachel walked out of the kitchen into the family room and then to the base of the staircase leading to the second level of the house. “Courtney,” she called out.

No response.

“Courtney, answer me,” she said, a little agitated.

No response.

“Courtney, don't make me come up there. We're in a hurry.”

No response.

Rachel growled under her breath and began stomping up the stairs. As she continued stomping down the hallway to Courtney's bedroom, she could hear the boys in the kitchen giggling at the thought of Courtney getting in trouble. When she reached Courtney's bedroom, she grabbed the doorknob and flung open the door, ready to give Courtney a piece of her mind.

 

Jake was half-dressed, shaving in front of the bathroom mirror, when Rachel screamed. He had heard her scream before when one of the boys, usually Brett, came home with a frog and startled her.

But this scream was different. It wasn't a startled scream. It was terror-stricken.

Jake dropped the razor beside the sink, wiped the remainder of the shaving cream from his face, and began running toward the sound. He ran through the den and up the stairs to Courtney's bedroom, where his wife was still screaming hysterically and pointing at Courtney's bed.

Jake looked in the room and saw Courtney lying bound and gagged on the bed. Her fragile arms and legs were each tied to one of the corner posts. Her eyes were pleading for help. Jake raced to her bedside and frantically began to free her from her bonds. He removed the gag in her mouth first.

“Mommy!” Courtney wailed. “I want my mommy!”

Rachel collected herself and ran to Courtney as Jake moved next to untie the ropes from her feet and hands.

“There was a man, Mommy,” Courtney described through her tears.

“What, honey?” Rachel prodded.

Finally all the ropes were untied.

Rachel scooped Courtney up in her arms and sat on the bed, rocking Courtney back and forth in her lap.

“There was a man in my room last night, and he tied me up.” Courtney buried her face in Rachel's chest as Rachel stroked her auburn hair.

“Did he hurt you?” Jake asked, his mind leaping to the worst possible scenario.

“No, Daddy,” she said from the security of her mother's arms. “He didn't hurt me, but I was real scared.”

Courtney's whole body was shaking in trauma. Her face had lost all color. Jake examined her wrists and ankles and saw that they were raw from the ropes rubbing against them as she struggled for freedom.

Jake joined Rachel and Courtney on the bed. Jake's mind raced as he held them both. Someone had violated the sanctity of his home, and that angered and scared him.

“Who could have done this?” Rachel asked in Jake's direction.

Jake shook his head. “I don't know.”

And then it hit him—the suspicions as to why it had happened.

As Jake continued to hold the two most important women in his life, he noticed a single sheet of paper on the nightstand by Courtney's bed. Jake grabbed the piece of paper and frantically read the words.

He handed the note to Rachel and slid Courtney from Rachel's lap to his. Jake watched Rachel's face as she scanned the words.

“What does this mean?” she inquired.

“I don't know. But I'm going to find out.” Jake pressed Courtney's head firmly against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “It's OK, honey. Daddy's going to take care of you.”

Those words were some he wished he could have heard his own father say. So many times, as a young boy, Jake had longed to climb into his own father's lap and feel the protection and security from that haven. But Jake's father and mother had died before he'd had much of a chance to get to know them. Only a few memories of them still lingered.

When Courtney was born, he had sworn to himself that he'd sacrifice everything to take care of her. It was the same promise he'd made when Brett and Jeremy were born. Now, as he sat on the edge of Courtney's bed, holding her, he realized he'd failed miserably.

Gingerly he inspected the bruises and abrasions around her wrists and ankles again.
Who could have done this to my innocent
,
delicate daughter?

A large tear from each eye ran over his chin and fell onto Courtney's soft hair.

“I was so scared, Daddy,” Courtney mumbled again. “I thought he was going to kill me, and I couldn't scream because he had my mouth covered.”

Jake squeezed Courtney again. “It's OK now, baby. Mommy and Daddy are here, and we're not going to let anything happen to you ever again.”

Rachel stroked Courtney's hair and said softly to Jake, “We need to call the sheriff's department and get Courtney to the hospital.”

Just then Brett and Jeremy ran into the room. “What's all the screaming about?” Brett asked excitedly.

“Nothing to worry about,” Jake assured them. “Everything is OK now. Both of you come over here and give your sister a hug.”

“Why?”

“Just because, Brett. Courtney needs it.”

Brett and Jeremy complied, and Jake and Rachel continued to sit on the bed with Courtney on Jake's lap. Jake reached his left arm around the backs of the two boys and pulled them closer. Rachel's right arm curled around their backs as well. Together the members of the Reed family formed a small circle, with Courtney in the middle.

Perhaps for the first time Jake understood why the family hug was so important. He sat motionless, for what seemed like hours.

Holding those precious lives in his arms.

Feeling the awe and the responsibility.

Battling the mix of dread and gratefulness that Courtney was not hurt worse…

And then it was over. It had lasted only a few seconds, but they had been frozen in time.

Jake knew that Jeremy had lasted as long as he could before he began squirming for freedom.

“Let me go,” Jeremy finally demanded.

“OK,” Jake said and kissed each of the children on top of the head. “Everything's going to be fine,” he told Rachel. “I'll take the boys back downstairs and call the sheriff's department. You stay here with Courtney.”

Jake escorted the boys down the stairs and ushered them into the kitchen with instructions to finish their breakfast. When they were settled, he retreated to his study and closed the door. He settled into the chair behind the antique desk and stared at the picture of his family that had been taken last summer at the beach in Destin, Florida. A precious blue-eyed daughter smiled back impishly.

He groaned. The thought of something happening to Courtney was unbearable. He rubbed his face with both hands to collect his thoughts and took a deep breath. It was time to call Sheriff West.

The phone only rang once before the dispatcher at the sheriff's department answered.

“This is Jake Reed. I need to speak to Sheriff West.”

The next voice on the phone was Sheriff Craig West, Jake's arch enemy.

“Sheriff, this is Jake Reed.”

“What can I do for you?” responded Sheriff West sharply.

Jake told Sheriff West as many of the details as he could remember. By the time he finished, Jake could sense that Sheriff West's attitude had changed, and he was listening intently. Jake knew that he and Sheriff West had many professional differences, but this was different.