The Shining Badge (37 page)

“I know that!” Clay snapped. “What I want to know is why they kidnapped them in the first place.”

“It’s not local, I don’t think,” Briggs said mildly. He had a pen in his hand and from time to time would look down at a sheet of paper in front of him. His writing was meticulous and so small it was almost microscopic. He studied the paper for a time and finally looked up. “I understand you are very close to Sheriff Winslow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why, it just means that when we’re too close to a problem we can’t see it clearly.”

Clay Varek knew that Briggs was right. He shook his head
and said quietly, “I haven’t been able to think straight, Mr. Briggs, and you’re right. We are very close.”

“We’ve gone over all the possibilities of local people being behind this, but I don’t think that’s the case. Mrs. Wheeler has told us that her husband made a full confession of his part in criminal activities, and we’ve had reports that Vito Canelli has been in the area a number of times recently. And I can tell you for certain that Canelli is totally bloodthirsty. He’ll kill without a qualm. You know him from your Chicago days, you say?”

“I met him a couple of times. We almost got him once on a bust, but he was too clever. He was Al Capone’s right-hand man before Capone was sent to prison—although we’ve never been able to literally prove that.”

“You know what kind of people we’re dealing with, then.”

“I keep waiting for the phone to ring for them to make some kind of a demand.”

Briggs took off his glasses, removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and began polishing them, letting the silence run across the room. The clock on the wall was ticking loudly, and from outside the office there was the sound of cars passing on the street. Finally Briggs said softly, “I don’t think there’s going to be a call. Most kidnappers want money, but in this case I think they want to get Wheeler out of the way. They’re afraid of his testimony.”

“What about the sheriff?”

“Well, she’s been an aggravation to the bootleggers and the mob knows it. You know how they look on things like that.”

Clay did not answer. He felt strangely inept and unable to think. Usually his mind was clear and sharp, and he could make decisions instantly, but since Jenny had gone missing, he had been like a man in a fog. He looked up now, and Briggs could see the misery in Varek’s eyes. “I’m afraid,” he said simply.

Briggs held Varek’s glance for a moment and then nodded, “I can understand that. I’ve got every man available
out searching, and I’m sure you do too, but it’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“We’ve got to find them, Briggs, we’ve just got to!”

Briggs hooked his glasses behind his ears and rose to his feet. “I don’t know this country. All we can do is look. We don’t even have a description of the car. From the tire tracks we know it was a big, heavy car, but that’s not much to go on.”

“Some of the known bootleggers must be in on this. Why don’t we pull them in and make them tell us what they know.”

Briggs shook his head. “That’s the kind of shortcut that will get us into trouble.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Varek. We mustn’t give up hope.”

Clay looked up and saw that the words did not agree with the expression of Agent Briggs. He well understood that Briggs had already given up hope and was convinced that Wheeler and Jenny were already dead. Clay rose to his feet and said, “I can’t sit here. I’ve got to do something.”

“Keep in touch,” Briggs called out as Clay left the office. Clay did not turn, and Agent Briggs shook his head. “Too bad. It’s just too bad. They wouldn’t have any reason for keeping those two alive. I’m afraid Varek’s going to take it hard.”

****

Clay approached the cabin with his gun pulled, but when he entered he found that it was abandoned. It was a shack they had been keeping their eye on because there had been bootlegging activity there in times past. He knew that the Cundiffs had used it and the Skinners also, but there was no sign of recent habitation. A heaviness descended on him as he holstered his gun. He walked out of the cabin and then headed down the road to where he had parked his car half a mile away. The snow had almost disappeared under the heat of the previous day, leaving behind mushy, muddy ground. Overhead the skies were blue, and as Clay trudged along, a mockingbird flew past him, warbling a loud song. Clay paid no attention, and all the way back to the car he tried
desperately to think of some way to save Jenny and Wheeler. He reached the car and got in, but when he started to turn the key, despair deeper than any he had ever known welled up in him. He placed his hands on the steering wheel and leaned forward, putting his forehead against the wheel. He remained there for a long time, but time had ceased to mean anything to him except that it was fleeing by, and every second meant that there was less chance that Jenny was alive.

She can’t die! God, you can’t let her die!

The cry burst out of the deepest part of Clay Varek’s being, and it rose to his lips so that he knew he was crying out aloud, something he could not remember ever having done. The coldness of the wheel seemed to burn into his forehead, and he gripped it with every bit of strength, as if he could rip the truth out of it.

Clay Varek had known helplessness before. When his partner had died in his arms, there was no way he could keep the life in the man, and he felt exactly like that now. But he felt even more than that. He suddenly had a picture in his mind of Jenny’s face and could see the vitality and the sweetness that had attracted him from the first. He could almost hear her easy laugh and see her eyes sparkle. Grief and fear so mingled in his breast that he could only hang on to the wheel as if it were a life preserver and he were a drowning man.

Finally he drew a deep breath, and the quietness of the country about him surrounded him. He looked out the window at the trees, the sky, and the earth. Blindly he searched as if he might find Jenny simply by looking, and then in despair he closed his eyes and sat there gripping the wheel. Slowly the silence entered into him, and yet in that silence there was a grief that he could not contain. He was shocked to find tears rolling down his cheeks, and he did not wipe them away.

Finally he spoke aloud and began a prayer. It was not eloquent, and his voice was broken. “God,” he said, “I’ve left you out of my life, and now I’m in such trouble. God, you know I haven’t followed your laws, and I don’t know how
to pray. But I pray anyway. I pray for Jenny and for Wheeler. That you would save them from death.” He prayed for a long time, stopping from time to time, and finally as he sat there, he began to remember verses of Scripture. He had heard more sermons recently than he had in his whole life, and he remembered vividly one text that Brother Crutchfield had preached on the previous Sunday.
Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.

Those words seemed to come to him in a powerful way, and as Clay Varek sat there, he knew that God was somehow dealing with him. He kept his eyes closed and finally put his hands over his face. “Oh, God, I’ve heard that Jesus is the Son of God, and I believe that. I know I can’t make bargains with you, but I need you. I’ve needed you for a long time. You’ve said that anyone who would call upon you would be saved, so, Lord, I’m calling on you right now. I ask you to save me in the name of Jesus.”

This was not the end of his prayer. It seemed to go on for some time, for Clay Varek remembered his past, which had not always been good. But finally he finished confessing to God his grief at the life he had led and said in an exhausted voice, “I can’t do anything to help myself. If I get any help, Jesus, it’ll have to come from you!”

****

Missouri Ann Winslow had been listening to Clay for fifteen minutes. He had come to the house exhausted but determined. When she had let him in and led him to the living room, she was glad that, for once, all three of the babies were asleep. She herself had slept little, for she had stayed awake fasting and praying for Jenny and for Millington Wheeler. In fact, Clint and Lewis were out searching for them right now. Clay would not sit down, so Missouri stood with him, watching and listening carefully as he told of his misery.

“ . . . and so I found out that I loved Jenny, Mrs. Winslow, and I sat in that car, and I begged God to save her. And
Wheeler too, but the prayer that I finally prayed was for God to save me. I’d never prayed like that before, and I still don’t know whether I’m saved or not.”

Missouri quickly nodded. “You’re saved, Clay. I can sense it in you, and Jesus never refused anyone who came to Him.”

Clay shrugged his shoulders but managed a smile. “I don’t feel like asking any favors, but I’d like for us to pray together that Jenny would be found safe.”

“We’ll do that, but I want to tell about a dream I had last night.”

“A dream?”

“You’ll find out if you serve God long enough that He uses dreams.” Missouri nodded firmly. “It was very brief. I could hear Jenny calling to me. Her voice was clear, and I knew it at once. But the other thing I heard was the sound of water.”

“Water? You mean like the surf?”

“I’ve never heard the sea. No, this sounded like a waterfall.”

“What else was there?”

“That was all. Just Jenny’s voice calling and the sound of a waterfall.”

Clay Varek stared at the woman in front of him and said, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Neither do I, but it’s from God.”

“I can’t stay here, Missouri. But before I go, I want you to pray for Jenny and for me and for Wheeler too.”

The two bowed their heads, and Missouri Ann Winslow prayed a prayer that was so passionate it was almost violent. Finally she looked up through tearstained eyes and said, “I don’t know what to tell you, Clay, but God will not abandon us.”

****

As Clay parked the car in front of the sheriff’s office, Hooey Hagan was standing on the sidewalk. He came at once, and Clay demanded, “Any news, Hooey?”

“Not a thing,” Hagan said. “It’s plumb discouraging.”

“Let me tell you this, Hooey. I’ve been talking with Missouri Ann, and she told me a dream she had. I can’t make any sense out of it.” He repeated what Missouri had told him, and Hooey blinked his eyes. “Well, I swan! There’s only one place I can think of that there’s a waterfall loud enough to make lots of racket.”

“Where is it?” Clay demanded. “Are there many waterfalls around here?”

“As far as I know there’s just this one.”

“Come on. Show me.”

****

“That’s the old Franklin place. And look, there’s a car out in front. Can you see the license?”

“Yes,” Clay said harshly. “It’s an Illinois plate.”

“Well, I’ll be dipped!” Hooey breathed. He turned his electric blue eyes on Clay and said, “Let’s go get ’em. They’ve gotta be in there.”

“We need help on this. You take the car and go back. Get Briggs and bring what help you can. Don’t let ’em go bustin’ in there. Sneak up on ’em. I’ll be right here. In case they try to leave, I’ll stop ’em.”

“You sure you can handle it all alone?”

“Do it, Hooey.”

Clay watched as Hooey ran back through the woods toward the grove where they had parked the car. He stood concealed by the thick foliage of the trees, never taking his eyes off the house. Hope had risen in him. He wanted to get closer, and he worked his way along, crawling on his stomach most of the way, getting mud all over the front of his uniform. Finally he reached the edge of the clearing in front of the house and, crouching behind an old barrel, scanned the house. For a long time he could see nothing. And then finally, on the second floor, he saw a face, and his heart seemed to stop.

“It’s Jenny!” he breathed. “It’s Jenny, and she’s alive! Thank you, God.” He fell to his knees, exultant, and said, “God, let
me get Jenny out alive and Wheeler too. If you can do this, I want to serve you the rest of my life. But this one thing I ask of you right now.”

****

Briggs shook his head and insisted, “We’ve got enough men here to take the place, Varek.”

“And what’s the first thing they’ll do when we go in shooting? They’ll kill Jenny and Wheeler.”

Briggs had brought fifteen men with him: two other FBI agents, the rest of the deputies, and some city policemen. They had crept in slowly and now stood waiting for the decision.

“The longer we wait,” Briggs said, “the more chance there is to lose them. You sure you saw Sheriff Winslow in the window?”

“Yes, she’s alive, and we’ve got to get her out. But we can’t go charging in there, Briggs, you know that as well as I.”

“We can’t afford to wait until dark and sneak up.”

“There’s another way. I don’t know how many are in there. One man I didn’t know came out to the car, but I’d suspect there are two or three more.”

“Yes, I think you’re right, but we can’t wait. As I’ve told you, they have no reason for keeping the two alive.”

“They’re on the second floor, and I’ve seen other movement down on the first floor. I think they’ve got them locked in a room up there.”

“That’s just a guess. You don’t know that.”

“I know Jenny’s there,” Clay said, biting off the words. “Look, there’s a shed roof covering the porch. If I can get up on that roof and get to the window, I can get inside. Then you can make your play. I’ll be there if anyone comes upstairs to harm Jenny or Wheeler.”

“It’s broad-open daylight!” Hooey protested. “How you gonna get there?”

“I’ve circled the house. The other side’s only got one
window on the first floor. Unless somebody’s looking, I can sneak around to the back and crawl in underneath that window to the front. Then I can climb up on the roof and get to that window and into that room.”

Briggs stared at Varek for a long time, then finally said, “If they see you, you’re a dead man. But if you want to try it, it’s as good a plan as any.”

Clay nodded. “When I get up there and inside the room, I’ll give you a signal. That means I can take care of anybody coming from downstairs. You make your rush as soon as I give the signal.”