Blindside (4 page)

I
t
was Saturday afternoon, her day off, but with the storm coming, anything could happen. Katie Benedict was driving slowly, listening to the rain slam against the roof of her Silverado. It was hard to see through the thick gray rain even with the windshield wipers working overtime. The mountains were shrouded in fog, thick, heavy, and cold. And now this storm, a vicious one, the weather people were calling it, was on the way. An interesting choice of words, but she bet it was apt. She realized now that she shouldn't have chanced taking Keely to her piano lesson given the forecast, but she had. At least it had only just started raining, and they were close to home. She just hoped there wouldn't be any accidents on the road. If there were, she'd be up to her eyebrows in work.

She hunched forward, peering through the thick sheets of rain, Keely quiet beside her. Too quiet.

“Keely, you all right?”

“I'd like to find a rainbow, Mama.”

“Not for a while yet, sweetie, but you keep looking. Hey, I heard you playing your C major scale before. It sounded really good.”

“I've worked hard on getting it right, Mama.”

Katie grinned. “I know, but it's worth it.”

Suddenly, Keely bounced up on the seat, straining against her seat belt, and began waving through the windshield. “Mama, what's that? Look, it's a little boy and he's running!”

Katie saw him. The boy was sopping wet, running out of the woods to her left, not more than fifty feet onto the road in front of her. Then she saw two men burst out of the trees. It was obvious they were after him.

Katie said, even as she reached over and quickly released Keely's seat belt, “I want you to get down and stay there. Do you understand?”

Keely knew that tone of voice, her mama's sheriff voice, and nodded, slipping down to the floor.

“Cover your head with your arms. Everything will be fine. Just don't move, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.”

Katie pulled to a stop, quickly leaned over the front seat and punched in the two numbers to her lock box beneath the back bench. She pulled out her Remington rifle, loaded, ready to go. By the time she opened the door, the men weren't more than a long arm's reach from the boy. Thank God he'd seen her and was running toward her. He was yelling, but the wind and rain wiped any sound he made right out.

The big man, his beer gut pounded by the rain, had a gun. Not good. Despite his size he moved quickly. He turned toward her, away from the boy, and raised the gun.

Katie brought up her rifle, cool and fast, and fired, kicking up muddy water not a foot from the fat man's feet, splattering him to his waist. “I'm the sheriff! Stop right there! Don't move!”

The skinny man behind him yelled something. The idiot was wearing a long black leather coat that was soaked from the rain. Katie calmly raised her Remington again and
fired. This time the shot dug up a huge clod of dirt, spraying the leather coat.

The man in the coat yelled something and grabbed at the fat man's shirt. The fat man jerked away, yelled something toward the boy, and fired from his hip, a lucky shot in the fog and rain that very nearly hit her.

“You idiot!” she yelled. “I'm Sheriff Benedict. Drop your weapon! Both of you, don't move a single muscle!” But the fat guy pulled the trigger again, another hip shot, this one nowhere near her. Katie didn't hesitate, she pulled the trigger and the guy flinched and grabbed his upper arm. She'd wanted to hit him high on the shoulder, wanted to bring him down, but the rain and fog were hard on her aim.

He managed to keep his gun. She had hoped he'd drop it.

She shouted, “Come forward, both of you, slowly!”

But neither of them took a single step toward her, not that she'd expected them to. Both men ran back into the thick trees. She fired after them, once, twice, then a final time. She thought she heard a yell. Good.

The little boy, panting so hard he was heaving, was on her the next instant. He grabbed her arm and shook it.

“You can't let them go, ma'am! You've gotta shoot them again, you gotta kick their butts!”

Katie laid her rifle alongside her leg, and pulled the boy against her. “I got the fat one in the arm. Maybe I got the other one, too, while they were running back into the forest. You can count on it—the fat one's hurting bad. Now, it's going to be all right. I'm Sheriff Benedict. I'll get right on my cell phone and call for some help with those guys. Come into the truck and tell me what's going on.”

Sam looked up at the tall woman who could have shot Fatso right in his big gut, but had only shot him in the arm instead. “Why didn't you kill him?”

Katie smiled at the boy as she quickly herded him back to the truck. She didn't want to hang around here. No telling if those guys would pop back out of the woods. “I
try not to kill every bad guy I run into,” she said. “Sometimes I like to bring them in front of a judge.” She squeezed him hard. “You're okay and that's all that matters. Now let's move out of here.”

The narrow bench in the back could hold no more than a couple of skinny kids. What it did have was a stack of blankets, not usually for warmth, but to soften the ride.

She grabbed the blankets and lifted the boy up onto the front seat. “Keely, we're going to make room for—”

“My name's Sam.”

“We're going to make room for Sam. He's cold and he's wet.” She settled him between her and Keely and covered him with five blankets. “Sweetie, don't worry about your seat belt. You just press close to him to help him warm up, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.” Keely pressed against his back. Her little face was white, her voice a thin thread.

“It's going to be all right, baby. I don't want you to worry. I want you to be real brave for Sam here. He needs you to watch over him now. He's been through something bad. Can you do that?”

Keely nodded, the tears that were near to brimming over nearly gone now. To Katie's surprise, she shook Sam's arm. “Hey, who were those guys? What were they doing to you?”

Sam was shuddering.

“Not now, Keely. Let's just let Sam warm up a bit before we grill him.”

Sam managed to get his mouth working, but it was hard. “What's your name, ma'am?”

“I'm Sheriff Benedict and that little girl next to you is my daughter, Keely. Did those men kidnap you?”

Sam managed to nod. He wasn't going to cry. “I squeezed through a window and fell on my head. But I got away.”

“My goodness, you're really brave, Sam. Now, let's get
you over to Doc Flint's. Keely, you press close to Sam and try to get him warm.”

“I call him Doc Flintstone,” Keely said, watched her mom frown, then grab one of the towels to dry off the little boy's head.

Sam said from behind the towel, “My mama used to give me Flintstones vitamins every morning with my toast.”

“I like marmalade on my toast. I don't think smashed vitamins would taste very good.”

Sam thought that was funny, but he was just too cold and too scared to laugh. He burrowed under the blankets; all he wanted to do was get warm. He pressed himself as hard as he could against Sheriff Benedict's leg. He felt the little girl squeezing against his back. He wondered if he was going to die now that he'd gotten away from those men. The little girl was pressed so hard against him, he'd bet she was going to get her clothes as wet as his.

Katie slid her rifle onto the floor behind the driver's seat. She turned the heater on high. “Okay, kids, I cranked up the heat so it'll be roasting you both in a minute. I know you're wet clear through, Sam, but the blankets should help a little bit.”

“I don't like marmalade,” Sam said as Katie looked at him closely.

“You'll like my mom's. It's the best.” Good, the boy wasn't in shock, at least not yet. Katie put the truck in gear and started up. She had to watch her speed; the heavy rain made the road a river. As they passed where the men had disappeared into the trees, she looked carefully, but saw no sign of them.

She picked her cell phone out of her breast pocket and called Wade at the station house.

“Hello, Wade, it's Katie. No, don't tell me anything about the storm just yet. This is urgent.” She told him about Sam and his kidnappers, the two men who'd been
chasing him, and how she'd shot the fat one in the arm. “I'm on the south end of Delaware. Sam came out of the woods in nearly a straight line from the road to Bleaker's cabin—I'll bet that's where they were holding him. They're armed, they tried to kill me. Take three deputies and get out there fast.” She gave them descriptions, then said, one eye on Sam's white face, the other on the woods, “I'm taking Sam to Doc Flint's. I'm on my cell. Let me know what you find. Did you hear any names, Sam?”

“Fatso and Beau.” Just saying their names made Sam so afraid he had to concentrate not to pee again in his jeans.

“The one in the black leather coat is Beau, the other one is Fatso, that's Sam's name for him. Put out an APB on them, Wade. The one with the bullet in his arm—chances are he'll need some medical attention. Maybe the other one, too. Alert all medical facilities in the area. I'll tell Doc Flint. I'll bet he'll be putting in some calls himself. I'll check in again after I make sure the boy's all right.”

She looked one last time toward the woods. No sign of either man. She pressed harder on the gas. She couldn't go any faster, it was just too dangerous. “Sam, you keep bundled up. Don't worry about talking right now. Just get yourself warm, that's right. You can tell me everything in a little while. Right now, you just think about how you saved yourself. My goodness, you're a hero.”

Sam nodded. It made him feel woozy. A hero? He didn't feel like much of a hero. His teeth were chattering and that made him feel like a baby. He hadn't been a baby for longer than he could remember. And there was that little girl Keely pressed against him, two fat braids the color of wheat toast hanging over her shoulders, touching his face she was so close. He closed his eyes. He wasn't about to cry in front of the little girl. He wanted his father.

It took them nearly twenty minutes to get to Doc Flint's office in the rain. Katie kept talking to both children,
keeping her voice calm and low, telling Sam about how the weather was going to be really bad until some time tomorrow, telling him how Keely was five, not as old as he was, and about how Keely could play “When You Wish Upon a Star” on the piano. Keely chimed in and told Sam she'd teach him how to play it, too, and the C scale.

Sam looked bad, Katie thought, worrying now as she pulled in front of the small Victorian house that stood at the corner of Pine and Maple, two blocks off Main Street. It was tall, skinny, and painted cream with dark blue trim. Jonah Flint lived upstairs and had his examination rooms and office downstairs. She said, “Keely, I want you to stay put until I get Sam into the office. Don't move, don't even think about moving. I'll come back for you with the umbrella.”

She and Sam were already soaked, steam rising off their clothes because of the hot air gushing out of the truck heater. The little boy's face was sheet-white and his dark pupils were dilated. There was blood oozing down his cheek from a cut on his head.

She eased him across the front seat, raised the umbrella, and whispered against his small ear, “Grab me around the neck, Sam, it'll make it easier.” When she straightened, he wrapped his legs around her waist. “That's good, Sam. Now, it's going to be all right, I promise you. You're with me now and I'm as tough as an old boot and meaner than my father, who was meaner than anybody before he died. You know something else, Sam? Since you're a hero, I'm not the only one who's really proud of you. Your folks will be proud, too. Don't worry now, everything's going to be all right.”

She kept talking, hoping she was distracting the boy as she carried him into the empty waiting room. Katie wasn't surprised there wasn't anybody there, not even Heidi Johns, Dr. Flint's receptionist and nurse. Who would want to be out in weather like this except for Monroe Cuddy,
who might have shot himself in the foot again, or Marilee Baskim, who was close to having a baby?

She called out, “Jonah!”

No answer. What if he wasn't here? She didn't want to take Sam to the emergency room.

“Jonah!”

J
onah
Flint, just turned forty and very proud of his full head of blacker-than-sin hair, came running out of the back room, the stethoscope nearly falling out of the pocket of his white coat.

“Jesus, Katie, what's going on? Who's this?”

“This,” Katie said, carrying Sam into the first examination room, “is Sam and he just escaped kidnappers, believe it or not. There's a cut on his head and I think he's going into shock. I was afraid you weren't here.”

“I was doing some research in the back. Now, let's see what we've got here.” Dr. Flint smiled at the boy even as he peeled him off Katie and removed all the blankets, taking in all the signs and talking to Sam all the while.

“How do you feel, Sam?” He sat the boy on the edge of the examining table. “Do you take any medications? No?” He began to check him over. “Does your head hurt? I know the cut does, but do you have a headache? No, okay, that's good. I'll give you something to cut the pain. You got away from kidnappers? That's something now, isn't it? Okay, Sam, let me get you out of those wet clothes. You can just call me Doc Flintstone, okay? That's right, you help me.
Now, do you hurt anywhere else? No? Good. Katie, you can step out, please, just men in here. You going to call the kid's parents?”

Sam looked shell-shocked.

Katie said, “I'll call his parents in just a bit, when you're through examining him. First things first. He's the most important thing right now.” She took one last long look at the little boy who'd run out of a wilderness of maples and oaks. She picked up the huge office umbrella, lots bigger than hers, and fetched Keely from the truck.

She sat Keely on a chair, handed her the huge black waiting room bear, and called Wade again. “What's the word, Wade? You see anything out there?”

“Not yet. Where are you?”

“I'm in Jonah's waiting room. He's with Sam—that's the little boy. I don't know his last name yet. Making sure he's okay is the first priority. I've got Keely with me, too. With the two kids, there was no way I could do anything but get out of there. Have you checked out the old Bleaker place yet? That's bound to be where they were keeping him. It's hidden and nobody can hear anything for all the trees.”

“I think so, too. Me and Jeffrey are out here on the road, and even with the fog and the rain, we found where the guys had come out of the woods. We found several shells, probably from your rifle. You also dropped a blanket. We're fixing to go into the woods now.”

Katie wanted to be the one to go to the Bleaker cabin. It was tough, but there was just no way she could leave the kids, not yet. “Listen, Wade, you and Jeffrey be really careful. Anyone else with you? Good, glad that Conrad and Danny got there. Don't forget, these guys are dangerous. If they're still at the Bleaker cabin, it could get dicey. If they're not there, I want you to secure the place. Be real careful not to destroy any possible evidence.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Wade said. “Over and out.”

Over and out?
Katie shook her head. Wade sounded
pleased as punch that he was the lead on this. She just hoped he'd be careful. She disconnected and said to Keely, “I sure hope Jeffrey wears his glasses.”

Keely said, not looking up from the bear, “Jeffrey has to wear his glasses or he'd step in the toilet. Millie likes him without his glasses, but she says it's just too dangerous.”

Millie was Jeffrey's girlfriend. Katie smiled and felt her tension lessen just a bit. She fully intended to keep the boy with her as long as it took to get him safe. She hardly knew anything about him. She hated to wait before talking with him, but the child needed Jonah a lot more than he needed to answer questions right now.

Sam's parents. She'd get their names and phone number as soon as Jonah said Sam was okay. She knew they had to be frantic.

Jonah came out from the examination room twenty minutes later, smiling, holding the little boy's hand. “Sam's been telling me how his mama kept talking in his head, telling him what to do, how to get himself free.”

How could Sam be okay? He looked white and exhausted, a big Flintstones bandage on his head. Katie said, “You did great, Sam, you didn't give up.”

“No, ma'am, I didn't.” There was a flash of pride in that exhausted little voice, and that was good. Sam looked like the little boy he was, wrapped in two very big blue blankets, a pair of Jonah's black socks on his small feet. Sam looked up at Jonah. “I want to go home, Doctor.”

Katie patted Keely's head, and walked swiftly to where the boy stood. She picked him up and held him close to her. “You're just fine, Sam, just fine. Now, if Jonah is through torturing you, I'm taking you home with me. You'll be safe there until I can get your folks here.”

“We're in Tennessee?”

“Yes, we are. Eastern Tennessee. Jessborough is the name of the town.”

“Where's Tennessee?”

“We're sandwiched among lots of states. Where do you live, Sam?”

“I'm from Colfax, Virginia.”

“A nice state, Virginia,” Katie said and turned to Jonah. “It's not too far away from here. He's okay?”

“Yep, he might come down with a cold from his run in the rain, but he's a strong kid. He'll be just fine. Give him a nice big glass of juice. He needs the sugar. I don't want to take any chances that he'll crash.” He patted Sam's head, ran his fingers through his damp black hair. “His clothes are still wet. What do you want to do?”

“If you could wrap his clothes up in a towel, I'll wash and dry them.”

Katie realized she was rocking Sam, sort of stepping from one foot to the other, swaying, just like she did with Keely. She smiled. “I'm going to squeeze him in next to Keely and take both of them home. You like hot chicken noodle soup, Sam?”

He didn't say anything, but she felt him nod. She and Jonah looked at each other. Neither of them knew what the kid had been through, at least not yet.

“You be careful, Katie, it's coming down thicker than confetti on New Year's,” Jonah said. “Take good care of my patient. Keely, you keep a close eye on Sam, too, okay?”

Keely allowed Sam to sit next to her mother, his head on Katie's leg. She pressed close to his other side. “I'll keep him warm, Mama.”

“Sam,” Katie said, lightly touching her fingers to his pale cheek, “you're a very lucky boy.”

Sam, who felt dopey and stupid, said, “That's what my mama was always telling my dad.”

“I'll call your daddy right now if you'll just tell me his name and phone number.”

Sam said against the wet denim on her leg, “My dad's name is Miles Kettering. He's really cool. He can fix anything. He fixes helicopters for the government.”

His father was a government contractor? Could that be why he was kidnapped?

“What's your home phone number, Sam?”

He was silent, thinking, but he couldn't get it together, and she knew his brain was closing down. “It's okay. I'll call information. Colfax, Virginia, right?”

Sam managed to nod before he closed his eyes. He felt her strong leg supporting his head. She still felt wet through the blanket she'd put under his head. He felt the sway of the truck and the little girl's body pressed close against him. He was warm. He was safe. He was asleep in the next minute.

Katie pulled the blanket more closely around his shoulders, and whispered to Keely, “He'll be okay, sweetie. You just stay there, keep him really warm.”

After a moment, Keely said, “I would have saved myself, too, Mama.”

“I know you would have, Keely. Now, let me get information in Virginia and find Sam's daddy.”

When the phone
rang, Miles jumped nearly three feet. He'd been telling the agents again how the government contracts worked, who his competitors were, and how much money was involved. Agent Butch Ashburn, the lead on Sam's kidnapping, nodded to the other agent, Todd Morton, who'd just swallowed a doughnut too fast and was choking.

“Showtime,” Agent Ashburn said.

Savich, who'd just gotten to the Kettering house, laid his hand on his friend's arm and said, “Everything's set, Miles. Just answer the phone. Keep calm, that's more important than I can say.”

Miles Kettering forced his hand to reach for the phone.
He didn't want to touch it, didn't want to because he was afraid that Sam was dead. So many children were kidnapped and so few survived. He could hardly bear it.

It had been a day and a half. This was the first word. His hand shook as he lifted the phone.

“Hello? This is Miles Kettering.”

“Hello, Mr. Kettering, my name is Sheriff K. C. Benedict from Washington County, Tennessee. Don't worry, I have your boy, Sam. He's just fine. He managed to escape his kidnappers. He's with me. Mr. Kettering? I promise you, he's okay.”

Miles couldn't speak. His throat worked. “I don't believe you. You're the kidnapper, right? What do you want?”

Butch Ashburn and Todd Morton were standing there staring at the phone, trying to look both calm and competent. Savich took the phone from Miles's hands. “Who is this?”

Katie understood. She said again, “This is Sheriff K. C. Benedict from Washington County, Tennessee. Sam is just fine. He managed to save himself. I've got him with me. Tell his parents not to worry, he's okay.”

“This is Dillon Savich with the FBI, Sheriff. Thank you very much. Give me your exact location and we'll be there as quickly as we can.”

Katie gave the man directions. She'd never before met a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She patted Sam's shoulder, whispered, “Your daddy's going to be here soon now, Sam,” but Sam didn't hear her. He was asleep.

She heard Mr. Kettering say in the background, “I want to talk to Sam.”

She said to Agent Savich, “Sam's asleep. Do you want me to wake him?”

Miles Kettering came on the line. “No, let him sleep. I'll see him soon. Please, Sheriff, tell him I love him. What
about the people who took him? Did you get them?”

“I'm very sorry, but they escaped. But we've got a group of my deputies in the field and they'll do their best.”

When Katie hung up the phone, Keely said, nearly asleep herself, “What about his mama?”

“She'll probably come, too. If I were her, I'd beat his daddy here to get him.”

“Stealing Sam was a bad thing, Mama.”

“You're right.” And she thought,
I should have just brought the bastard down, not given him a kiss in the arm. I should have kicked his butt like Sam said.