The Watchman (12 page)

Near the city limits, the headlights brought the decaying structure into view past a series of side streets. I pulled across the field, got out, jerked open the rickety doors, and then pulled the cruiser inside. As quickly as my cold fingers would allow, I disconnected the vehicles radio and GPS system, and then made the long trek back to town keeping in the shadows when not invisible.

In stealth mode, I entered the office building and traveled to the fourth floor. As I'd hoped, the area had cleared. The cops were now searching the countryside for the missing black and white.

I sometimes felt bad about the advantage my gifts gave me over pond scum like many of the men on Hebron's police force. But this was not one of those times.

Inside the office and back to normal, I whispered, “Rachel?”

She stuck her head out from under the desk. “Noah, where have you been? I thought...I thought they'd caught you.”

I shook my head. “I had to draw them away from you. It was close, but we should be OK until morning.”

“What happens in the morning?”

“You go back to the ranch, and I go get Cody.”

 



 

Temperature in the building had lowered overnight and the chill had seeped deep into my bones. Around six o'clock the thermostat snapped on spreading welcome warmth and awakened the smell of stale coffee stains in the carpet.

Rachel pulled up the hood on her jumpsuit and slipped on my sunglasses. We went in search of my car, our steps crunching across the snow that had blown into the double-tiered garage.

We entered the Honda in sub-zero temperatures. Shivering uncontrollably, I placed a call to George and told him to meet me at the airport. Soon, the heater pushed warm air upward from the floorboard. I maneuvered through alleys and side streets to the municipal airport where George kept his planes.

Authorities would post Rachel's photo over the media outlets, so driving to the ranch didn't seem a wise move.

I eased my car in close to George's twin engine Cessna with the plane between the control tower and us. George couldn't let them know the plane carried a passenger. I had explained the situation to him on the phone, and he didn't sound happy. He cast a disapproving gaze at me and then back at Rachel, unspoken concern in his eyes.

I shifted uneasily. Involving another friend in my criminal activities bothered me. But my choices were few. The authorities would have checked the airport last night, so I needed to get her out of there fast before they returned.

“Can you fly Rachel to The Hand Me Down? I'll understand if you want to pass.”

With a tug on his ball cap, he paused to consider and then gave me a weary nod. “I'll take her.”

He helped Rachel into the backseat. “Stay down until we get into the air. As far as the tower is concerned, I'm flying solo.”

Rachel nodded. She turned back to me. “I want to come with you to get Cody.”

That wasn't going to happen. “You can't. You'd be a liability. Every cop in town has you on their radar. They don't take kindly to people who make them look foolish. I'll bring Cody to you. I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed as she processed what I said. Then she handed me Jess's coat and ducked down behind the pilot's seat. George covered her with a blanket.

Standing beside my car, I watched the plane as it rose into the air. Satisfied Rachel was safely on her way, I started the Honda and switched on the radio. A reporter on a Christian music station compared Rachel's escape to that of Peter's release from prison by an angel of the Lord.

The police didn't like that explanation, although they didn't have a better idea for the daring getaway. The security cameras had failed to pick up any portion of her escape.

The security tape revealed just one visitor to the women's section that night––Harry London.
The Hebron Herald
suggested it had been an inside job, and the police should question Judge London about his wife's break out.

The irony of the situation was perfect.

Next stop, Crown Heights. I had a promise to keep.

 



 

Harry London's Home

The ideal time to pick up the boy would have been while Harry sat in chambers, but a daylight rescue would be too risky. Jake told me he played cards at the club on Friday night with Harry. As I turned onto Cedar Hills Drive, I prayed the poker game was a standing engagement. I scanned the driveway for Harry's car. Nothing—no Crown Heights squad car lurked nearby.

By God's grace, it looked like I'd caught a break.

Invisible, I entered the kitchen and located the lady wrestler on duty. The sitter placed a cheeseburger and chips on a tray. My mouth watered. I'd only one meal in the last twenty-four hours, if I didn't count the package of peanut butter crackers I'd shared with Rachel.

Tray in hand she mounted the stairs with me in her wake. She unlocked the bedroom door, lumbered inside, and placed the meal on Cody's desk.

I caught a quick glimpse of the boy. He watched cartoons from a cross-legged position on the bed—chin in his hands. Sad, but apparently unharmed.

Without acknowledging the boy in any way, the woman turned and left the room. The Amazon locked the door and retreated down the hallway.

I whispered through the keyhole. “Cody, I came back for you.”

Cody placed his mouth close to the lock. “Noah?”

I'd never heard anyone put so much joy into the sound of my name. “Yep, it's me. I'm taking you out of here and to your mom. We'll try the same drill as before. When you see me outside your window, come out on the ledge and jump to me.” I lowered my voice. “Be very quiet. We don't want to disturb your sitter. Will she come back to pick up the tray?”

“No, she leaves when Dad gets home.” Cody's voice sounded through the keyhole. “She'll clean up the room in the morning.”

“Good.” They might not miss him until the next day, and we needed as much of a head start as we could get.

The D.A. said there were no cameras outside, and I prayed the situation hadn't changed since I was now flesh and blood. If London had installed an outside security system, this time the D.A. would have proof of kidnapping.

Sounds of an automobile in the alley brought me up short. All the homes in the area had back entrances to the garage. The car stopped and the door closed with a loud
crack
. I couldn't tell which direction the noise came from.

Dear God, not again.

Cody came to the window, unlocked it, and raised the sash. I motioned him back. His eyes widened in panic. I watched as he whirled toward the bedroom door. From my position under the ledge, I couldn't see what happened inside his room. The bedroom door opened, and seconds later, closed again.

I charged around the corner, expecting to see Harry or the twins with guns pointed at my heart. Instead, chatter from two females next door greeted my ears.

Before this night ended, I would die of fright.

Back to the spot under Cody's ledge, I searched for movement in his room. He wasn't there. I imagined every terrible possibility. Had Harry come home? Had he taken Cody? I checked my watch. Almost ten minutes before I could become invisible again.

Urgent steps brought me to the tree near Cody's window. I struggled up to the limb nearest his bedroom—five feet from the open transom.

I climbed the western river birch to the second level, grabbed a naked branch above my head with both hands and began to swing. The cold, rough bark cut into my palms as I stretched full length and tried to get a foot inside. And missed.

I also missed the next three attempts.

I returned to an upright position on the limb, my hands stinging. Teeth gritted, I tried once again. This time I landed both feet hard inside Cody's room. My leg grazed his dinner tray and it crashed to the floor. My invisibility kicked in just as the door jerked open.

Harry stood in the doorway. “What was that?”

Cody peeked around his father into the room. “My tray fell. Where are you taking me?”

“You're moving down to the end of the hall. I'm planning a surprise for your friend, Mr. Adams, when he shows up.”

Cody braced against the wall, his fists clenched like a fighter ready for the bout of his life. “I won't stay here. I'm going to my mom.”

Face red, Harry turned toward the boy. “You'll do what I tell you.”

“No, I won't!”

Harry swung his right hand at Cody. Before I could reach Harry, something amazing happened. With a fast judo move, Cody stepped forward into the blow, grabbed his father's arm and using Harry's weight as leverage, threw him to the floor. Cody's eyes widened in surprise.

Riding wasn't the only thing Bill Hand taught the boy.

Harry rose from the floor and charged, his face contorted with fury. Cody pushed over a chair in front of his father, blocking the path. In a desperate attempt to avoid Harry's grasp, Cody grabbed trophies and bric-a-brac from the bookcases, hurled them at Harry, and made a frantic dash for the stairway.

As Cody rounded the curve in the flight of steps, Harry rushed toward the landing in pursuit. I stuck out an invisible arm and close-lined Harry, catching him solid across the throat. He went down like the Berlin Wall. He rose to his knees, slowly, one hand on his throat, the other feeling the air, face immobile, mouth open. I reached behind him, snatched a vase from the floor, and banged it hard against his skull, hard enough to keep him off our trail for a while.

I promised myself someday soon, very soon, Harry London and I would meet one on one. Then I wouldn't hide behind my invisibility, and he couldn't hide behind his cowardice.

For the present, we had to get out of Dodge before someone else showed up. Outside and normal again, I rushed to find Cody. He slammed into me as I rounded the corner near his window. With a soft yelp, he staggered back and almost lost his footing.

I reached to steady him. “It's OK. It's me.”

Cody leaned against me, trembling. “D-Dad . . .?”

“He won't bother us for now.”

Adrenalin pumping, Cody and I headed west toward the Hand Me Down and to his mother. We made one stop on the way for dinner to go.

 



 

Hand Me Down Ranch

The reunion at the ranch played like a Walt Disney movie. I swallowed the boulder lodged in my throat as mother and son cried and clung to each other.

Over Cody's shoulder, Rachel mouthed, “Thank you,” tears streaming down her face.

Cody released his mother and swiveled to face Bill. Excited, the boy danced from foot to foot like a prizefighter, his face bright and animated. “I used the trick you showed me, Bill. I threw my dad on the floor.” Cody plopped down on the sofa and exhaled. “I couldn't believe I did it.”

Bill tousled the boy's hair. “Good for you, Champ. Did you remember the most important part where you're supposed to run for your life when your opponent is down?”

He nodded. “Just like you told me.”

Bill's voice grew husky. “You have more courage than many grown men I know.”

Cody had blossomed under Bill's gentle tutelage––learning not all men were like his father.

I gave Emma and Bill a wave and then slipped away.

On the drive back to Hebron, I flipped open my cell phone and called Jessie at home. She answered on the first ring.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

“Yeah. I'm good so far. I drugged the coffee, and it left me with a sleep hangover.”

“How did you get around the security tape?”

“I worked in editing at the TV station in Cheyenne before I moved to Hebron. I spliced out the incriminating parts. They can tell it's been tampered with, but they can't prove it was me. I'm leaving in six months anyway. Taking the boys to Florida. They'll like it there.”

“I have your coat. I'll give it to Amos. I don't know how I can repay you, Jess.”

“You already did. You put my husband in jail. That saved my life.”

 

 

 

 

10

 

Hebron, Wyoming

As I drove back to Hebron, the gravity of Rachel's situation weighted on me. I had no idea where this case was going. London held all the cards. His family had evaded his grasp this time, but there were no guarantees about the next confrontation.

When I reached Jake's cabin I sat in the Jeep and closed my eyes. No bright flash of light occurred with the answer. I started the vehicle and drove back into the city.

After doing some shopping, I called George. “I need a ride to the ranch, you free?”

He chuckled. “You got money?”

Wearing my everyman outfit, baseball cap and down jacket, I arrived at the airport to meet George. He led me to his latest acquisition, a Velocity XL RG. A sleek white jet with four seats, and two doors that opened from the bottom like an extra pair of wings.

I whistled my appreciation. “Wow, when did you get this?”

He ran his hand along the aircraft's smooth sides. “It arrived this morning. I have a few special clients I fly on business trips. Think this'll impress 'em?”

“It impresses me.”

George climbed into the cockpit, his face that of a child who just received the latest electronic gadget for Christmas. He waved me aboard. “Want to try it out?”

“You bet.” I hopped in beside him. “I didn't expect a classy ride this morning.”

George eased the sleek bird into the sky, and we flew west as the sun broke behind snow-covered mountains. The V-XL sliced through the strong headwinds like snow skis on a downhill run. He only charged me for the flight fuel, which I could barely afford with the rising fuel costs even with the Armstrong money coming in. But I couldn't risk driving to the ranch again. I kept an eye out for a tail. Hadn't spotted one, but I wasn't infallible.