Blindside (14 page)

Katie introduced Savich and Miles Kettering.

Reverend McCamy said nothing, merely nodded at them. He gave Miles a long look, then he looked down at the ring on his third finger—an odd ring, thick, heavy-looking, silver with some sort of carving on top. The carving was deep black. Sherlock couldn't make out what it was. Surely this monstrosity couldn't be his wedding ring.

Reverend McCamy said, “Special Agent Savich. You appear to be hurt.”

How had he known that? No, that was easy, Savich thought, likely everyone in town was talking about how the federal agent got his back sliced open by a flying piece of van. Savich removed his hand from the reverend's. “Just a bit.”

Reverend McCamy said, “I will direct all our congregation to include you in their prayers. Sheriff, you've known some of these folk all your life. You know they'll help if they can. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to my children.”

Katie looked over toward Thomas Boone and remembered a scene in the post office between him and a Mr. Phelan. They'd been arguing about the church and Reverend McCamy. She wanted to speak to Mr. Phelan.

After Katie dropped
Savich and Sherlock off at Mother's Very Best, Savich looking like he was nearly ready to drop in his tracks, she and Miles went for a cup of coffee at the Main Street Cafe. Beverly, with her lovely, big smile, served them. Bless her heart, she didn't say a word about the kidnapping.

“It's an amazing thing,” Miles said as he sipped his black coffee. “In the space of a day and a half, I went from absolute despair to euphoria to something like dread. Do you think Clancy is still here?”

Katie nodded as she stirred some cream into her coffee. “He's hiding somewhere.”

“You think the reverend and his wife know where he is?”

“I wish I could say yes, but actually I haven't the slightest idea if they do. You're a former FBI agent. What do you think?”

“As I said, I've only been here for a day.”

“What field office were you assigned to?”

“Actually, I stayed in Washington along with Savich after we met at the academy. I was in the Information and Evidence Management Unit.”

“You dealt with forensics.”

He nodded as he looked through the big front windows out onto Main Street. “My father wasn't pleased with my choice of career, but to his credit, he encouraged me endlessly. When he died, I realized that it was time to make a change. Fact is, I was getting burned out. I remember reading John Douglas's book and being struck to my gut when he wrote about his wife cutting her finger. He wrote that what he paid attention to was the way the blood splattered, not his wife's injury. It could have been me. So, when my father died, I resigned and took over my father's business. I've been doing it now for five years.” He paused a moment, sipped his coffee, closed his eyes, and said, “Fact is, I like it, and I'm good at it.”

“What is it?”

“We design and build parts for helicopters, like guidance systems, primarily for the army, but we've built components for all the other branches of the military as well. I'll tell you though, after some of our negotiations with the military agencies, I've thought life was easier at the Bureau.”

She laughed, and realized she liked this man. It had been so very long since she'd even looked at a man and actually saw that he was male, a male to admire and make her laugh. It felt rather good, actually. Carlo had burned her to the ground, the bastard.

T
he
house was quiet. All was well. Katie had made coffee for the deputies, double-checked all the locks, and looked in on Keely before sinking down beneath three blankets on a bed so soft she was convinced her mother had ordered it for her from heaven. Miles was with Sam, who had on his new, spiffy red Mickey Mouse pajamas. Miles hadn't bought anything so she guessed he was sleeping in his shorts. Now, that was a strange thought. She hadn't thought about a man's shorts in a very long time. Boxers? Katie grinned and nodded. Yeah, she'd bet he wore boxers.

Miles lay on his back, feeling Sam's heartbeat against his side, and his soft hair smooth against his neck. He still wasn't over the debilitating fear he'd felt for those endless hours before Katie had called. He wondered if he'd ever be over it. They'd been lucky, so damned lucky. He pulled Sam tighter and felt him wheeze a bit in his sleep. No nightmares, so far. He'd have to keep a real close eye on that.

Miles was so tired he felt like his skin was inside out and his brain was in a fog bank. Yet he couldn't seem to
shut down and sleep. So he lay there, listening to his boy breathe.

He closed his eyes and thanked Alicia yet again for encouraging Sam to get himself out of that cabin window. He'd wondered many times if she really was keeping a close eye on her son from the other side, if there was an other side, but if there wasn't, how had Sam heard her voice? Miles knew it was Sam's subconscious that had prodded him, but it was still somehow reassuring to believe, if even for a moment, that her love for her son overcame the silence and separation of death.

The air was soft, warm. He would swear he felt a brief touch of fingertips on his cheek. He smiled as he closed his eyes.

He had no idea how much time had passed. But one moment he was thinking about the problems with the new rotor blade design on the army's new Proto A587 helicopter, and the next he was alert, ready to move. He lay there, listening.

There was a scraping sound.

It stopped. Then nothing.

Surely Clancy wouldn't come back to try yet again to get Sam. There were two cops sitting just around at the front of the house.

It was probably just a branch whispering against the side of the house in the night wind.

No different sounds now, nothing at all.

Miles drew a deep breath, and settled in again. He imagined he'd be hearing things for many years to come.

“Hold yourself real still, Mr. Kettering.”

Miles's heart nearly seized. His eyes flew open. He looked up into Clancy's shadowed face, and pulled Sam closer.

“Yeah, I saw you wake up. Then I decided to wait just another minute, and sure enough, you were out again.”

Miles didn't want to wake Sam. He whispered to that round white face above him, “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past the cops outside?”

Clancy grinned, and Miles saw he hadn't escaped scot free from the van. He had a split lip with some dried blood on it, his cheek was swollen and covered with three Band-Aids. There was another cut over his left eyebrow, a Band-Aid patched vertically over it. His right arm wasn't in a sling, but he was holding it stiffly against his side.

Miles felt the muzzle of the gun, sharp and cold against his neck. Clancy leaned his face real close to Miles's, and he smelled Clancy's breath—salami and beer. He said, real low, “It was easy as kicking dirt. They were nearly unconscious last time I checked. By now, they might be dead, the morons. I've worked enough on cars to know about what not to do with a car exhaust. Pretty dangerous things, if you don't know what you're doing. Yep, nothing so easy as the car exhaust. Easy as cooking a hot dog. You see, the bozos kept the car turned on because they were too wussy to take the cold. That was when I knew exactly what to do.”

“You murdered two people just to get to Sam?”

“That's right, Mr. Kettering. What's your point?”

“Who's paying you to do this? Who?”

“Well now, Mr. Kettering, that just isn't any of your business, now, is it?”

“You have to know this is insane, Clancy. Half the state is looking for you. There's no way you'll get away with Sam, no way at all.”

“You know, Mr. Kettering, with all your yapping, I'm wondering if I shouldn't just pop you now.” The muzzle dug in. Miles didn't move, barely breathed, and he thought,
I can't die, I can't. I have to protect Sam.
He thought of Katie just down the hall, asleep. If Sam could hear his mother, then why the hell couldn't he talk to Katie? He did, and then focused himself again. He was an idiot, a desperate idiot. Sam was too close for him to try to make a move.
And it appeared that Clancy had nothing at all to lose. Who was paying him so much money that he just couldn't give up? He felt the muzzle stroking his neck now.

“You don't look too good, Clancy. I'm surprised you're even walking around. I saw the van explode. It was a burning hell.”

“When the sheriff fired I slammed into that tree and knocked myself silly, but just for a minute. I saw the sheriff kill Beau and got the hell out of the van. Yeah, I wanted to pop all of you, destroying my van like that.”

But Clancy didn't pull the trigger. So Clancy didn't want to kill him just yet, thank God. Why not? No silencer, that was why, and this was not the time for gunfire.

Then Miles realized Clancy wanted him alive so he could carry Sam. He wanted two hostages.
Then he'll kill me once he's gotten us away from here.

Miles didn't even blink. He tried to unfreeze his muscles and his heart after the immense jolt of fear that had shut him down for a moment.

“Wake up the boy, Mr. Kettering. I won't ask twice.”

He did, lightly stroking Sam's cheek, speaking quietly to him, telling him not to be afraid, everything would be all right.

Sam's eyes opened, focused on Clancy. “You're a bad man,” Sam said, that little voice strong.

“Hello there, you little brat. Too bad you're so valuable, I'd sure like to twist off your head. You got Beau killed, and I'm going to have to pay you back for that.”

“Why do you want him so badly, Clancy?”

“I just might tell you someday,” Clancy said. “Not that I necessarily believe it.” He took a couple of steps back to stand at the end of the bed, his gun aimed directly at Sam.

“Don't even think of trying anything, Mr. Kettering, or I'll shoot the boy. Believe me on this. I ain't got nothin' to lose here. Both of you get up now. You might as well put some clothes on, Mr. Kettering, it's pretty cold out there.
The kid's just fine in his pajamas.” He fell silent, watching them. “Hey, I wonder if those deputies are croaked yet. Shouldn't be long if they aren't already. We just might take their car, what do you think?”

“Why would you do that? How did you get here?”

“Never you mind about that.”

Miles said, “Sam, I want you to get out of bed real slow. Stand over there, okay?”

“Papa—”

“Do as I say. Everything will be all right, I promise you that.”

Clancy laughed under his breath. He watched Sam slide away from his father, off the side of the bed. He stood there, in his red pajamas.

“Hey, Mickey Mouse, those are neat,” Clancy said. “Now you, Mr. Kettering. I want you to be real careful. You see where I'm aiming now? Right at the kid's head. I'll kill him if you force me to.”

But would he really? Miles didn't think so. Whoever had hired Clancy wanted Sam too badly, but he wasn't about to take the chance. Miles eased out of the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was wearing only his boxer shorts. The air was chilly. Slowly, he stood. Clancy threw him his jeans. He pulled them on, fastened them. He held out his hand. “My sweater's over there.”

Clancy tossed it to him. When he had it pulled over his head, Clancy said, “No shoes. I don't want you trying to make a break for it. Now, put your hands behind your neck.”

Miles laced his fingers behind his head.

“Okay, now, you walk out of here first, Mr. Kettering. Sam, you follow your dad. Do it, now. Keep walking. Kid, you behave yourself.”

He doesn't want Sam dead, Miles kept thinking. Everything hinges on his taking Sam alive. But why? All Miles needed was an opening, a small lapse on Clancy's part, and
he could take him. He held himself ready, listened to every breath Clancy drew, realized he didn't breathe easily because he was so heavy, and he was hurt. Just how badly, Miles couldn't guess. He watched Clancy's gun, watched how it remained aimed at Sam's head.

Miles walked slowly down the hall. He barely heard Sam's steps behind him because he was wearing a nice thick pair of Katie's socks. They were nearly to Katie's bedroom door.

This is easy, Clancy, so easy. You can relax a bit, can't you now? You've got us.

They reached the living room in utter silence. Moonlight showed through the front window that wasn't boarded up. Not much, but enough so no one would trip over anything.

Slowly, Clancy motioned Miles to move aside. He grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him toward the front door.

“Papa—”

“Shut up, you little varmint!”

He held Sam with one hand, realized that he couldn't turn the dead bolt with a gun in his other hand, and stood there a minute, wondering what to do.

“Come here, Mr. Kettering. I want you to open that door or I'll hurt your kid.”

He pulled Sam back against his stomach.

Miles walked to the front door and unfastened the locks.

“Open it.”

Miles opened the front door. The night wind rushed in, cool, sharp.

“Put your hands behind your head and walk.”

Miles stopped at the edge of the wide porch that wrapped around the house, touched his bare toe against a rocking chair leg.

“Well, go on down. We'll check out those cops, see if they're dead yet. Then we'll take their car. I still can't believe that damned sheriff ruined my van.”

“How did you get back here, Clancy?”

“I already told you, that ain't none of your business, buddy. Walk down those damned stairs!”

Clancy had to know that he was running out of time. Miles had to see exactly where Sam was before he moved. Clancy and Sam were just in his peripheral vision behind him, just off to the right. Clancy had his arm around Sam's neck, held him tightly against his side.

On the second step, Miles yelled, “Drop, Sam!”

Sam went limp and dropped to the ground. In the same instant Miles turned and kicked out, his foot crushing Clancy's injured arm. The gun went flying.

Clancy screamed even as he grabbed Sam by his neck and lifted him off the ground, twisting, holding him away from him. Miles kicked again, this time in the middle of his chest. Clancy dropped Sam and went flying back, grabbing his chest, unable to breathe.

At that moment, Katie came through the open doorway, barefoot, her SIG Sauer in both hands in front of her.

She yelled, as she crouched, “Hold it, Clancy!”

“I've got him,” Miles said, and she saw that he was smiling of all things, an awful smile that held raw hate and triumph.

As he moved toward Clancy, he yelled, “Katie, check the deputies. There's gas in the car, hurry!”

Miles smashed his palm into Clancy's nose, and brought his knee up hard into his crotch.

Clancy screamed and went down onto his knees, holding himself. Katie literally jumped over Clancy and went flying off the porch, and Miles winced as her bare feet struck stone and gravel, but she didn't slow. She jerked open the passenger's side door and pulled the deputy out onto the ground, then ran to the driver's side, and dragged the other man out as well.

Clancy, still bent over, staggered to his feet, his eyes on Sam, who was on his hands and knees, scooting backward toward the edge of the porch.

“It's okay, Sam.” Miles jumped toward him and slammed his fist into Clancy's jaw. He felt the skin on his knuckles split, but it felt good, sending this monster into oblivion with his bare fist. He watched him fall senseless, then turned to see Katie bent over one of the deputies, listening for a breath. Sam was sitting on the edge of the porch, huddled over, not saying a word.

“Mama?”

“It's okay, Keely,” Miles said. “You stay in the house, okay? Your mom will get you in just a minute. Don't move, Keely. Katie, do I need to see to the other deputy?”

Before Katie answered, she saw that Clancy was down, not moving, not even moaning and was lying on his side, facing the house. She didn't have any cuffs and couldn't leave Cole here, possibly dying. It was okay, Clancy was down and out.

“Miles, you got him good. Hurry!”

Miles kicked Clancy just to make sure he was really unconscious, and pushed his gun in his pants. “Come with me, Sam. We've got to help the deputies.”