Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (39 page)

The girls are gone, Lizzie. The babysitter, too. They’re gone!

‡

W
hen Jameson and
Lizzie arrived at Kendra’s house, two police cruisers and an unmarked vehicle were pulled in front and in the driveway, so Jameson parked a block away. He grabbed her hand, leading her carefully, racing toward the front door until they were stopped by two uniformed policemen.

“Our daughter is one of the victims,” Jameson reported to them. He was still catching his breath, but felt Lizzie jump at the use of the word “victim.”

“I’ll escort you in,” answered one officer. He led the way, Jameson and Lizzie following right behind him.

Once they were inside the living room, Kendra stood up, her face was ashen, streaked with tears, deep lines in her forehead, and her eyes puffy. “God, Lizzie. I’m so sorry about this.”

Lizzie collapsed into her arms. The two women consoled each other while Jameson introduced himself to another officer inside the house.

“You think the babysitter could have taken them some place on her own, like on an errand?” the officer asked.

Kendra broke free of the embrace and spoke up. “No. I know the family. She would never do something like this.”

“What about her friends, Kendra?” asked Lizzie.

“Friends? She wasn’t alone then?” asked the officer.

“Well, she asked permission to have a couple of her classmates from school come over to study after the girls were asleep. We reluctantly agreed.”

“I’m going to need the information on the friends, in addition to your sitter. That’s Cissy Gunther?”

“Yes. Look, I called her home a few minutes ago, and that’s why I called you guys. Her mother didn’t know anything about this, and she didn’t have the car. So they would have had to leave in one of her friend’s cars, if her friends were even here.”

Kendra glanced at the policeman and at the plain-clothed detective who was on his cell phone. Jameson knew there was something she was hiding.

“You told him about this?” the policeman pointed to the detective on the phone.

“Yes. I think they’re scouring for a yearbook, for a picture of her. The principal is coming over in a few minutes, too.” She examined her slippered feet. “Lizzie, they’re treating this as if it’s a ransom for hire. Expecting there will be demands for cash for the girls. They’re bringing in equipment to listen for a ransom call.”

Jameson didn’t believe that theory. Lizzie had told him about the book of poetry and the possibility that exchange students had been at the house. He knew it was no coincidence and had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He’d called Kyle, letting him know what was happening. Kyle and several other SEALs were on their way over to help with a possible search. What they needed was a break, someone who had an idea about who was responsible, or knew
something
about these people. Otherwise, it was like finding a needle in a haystack and would be a huge waste of everyone’s time. Not that it would stop them from trying.

The plain-clothed officer informed them he’d notified the FBI, who had asked to be briefed.

“So you’re not convinced this is a ransom situation, that right?” Jameson asked the older gentleman.

“Well, I can’t ask them to jump in here without something more credible. It will eat up man-hours and such. We get a phone call or someone knows something about this babysitter, we go from there. But we’re prepared for every eventuality.”

The high school principal was ushered in by the same officer who accompanied Jameson and Lizzie.

“God, I’m so sorry. I brought the files the police asked me to bring. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”

Jameson needed to ask a question of the detective. “You asked all the neighbors yet? Maybe they saw something?”

“Yes, we have two on it right now. It’s taking a while because most everyone is asleep, even with all the activity going on here.”

“Mr. Daniels, we’re detaining a guy who says he’s your boss outside. I can’t let him in here, but do you want to go speak with him? He’s more than a little persistent.” The young uniform grinned. “If you know what I mean.”

“That would be Kyle,” Jameson said. “I’ll be right back.”

On his way out the door, he watched as the principal handed the plain-clothed detective the file he’d brought. “These are all the exchange kids. We have them from Brazil, from France, and, this year, a batch from Syria. With the civil war going on there and all, we agreed to take in a few extra.”

Jameson stopped, dead still. “You said Syria? How many from Syria?”

The principal leaned back on his heels. “Let’s see, I think, six at Oberon. But a couple of the other high schools took a few, as well. We’re all trying to help out.”

“All high school age?”

“Yes. I believe the youngest is thirteen.”

“Boys or girls, sir?” the detective wanted to know.

“Um, mostly boys. We have one girl, but the rest, as far as I know, are boys.”

“She’s a sister to one of them,” added Kendra.

“Ah, no, ma’am. None of these students are related.”

“But my sitter said he was bringing over his sister and they were all going to study together, if these are the right kids.”

“Well, I’m not sure of that. In fact, if they were brother and sister, we’d place them in the same home, together. But they requested separate homes and explained it wasn’t proper for her to stay with a family with unrelated boys in it. Made a big deal about that. So she’s staying with the Campbells, and they have a daughter the same age.”

“The Campbells?” Kendra’s voice filled with panic. “As in Maureen Campbell?”

“Yes, Maureen. Is—that significant?”

Kendra faced the detective. “We found an erotic poetry book—Rumi is the author’s name—left behind when Maureen babysat a few months ago. I called her mother and told her. She told me Maureen had gotten it from the exchange student they had. I didn’t think to ask what country she was from.”

“Ah, well, Mrs. Johnson, I doubt the presence of an erotic poetry book in the hands of a high school girl is anything like a clue or something to get us tied in knots. Kids these days—”

Jameson had to insert himself. He knew Kyle would have some light to shed on the situation. “My friend outside? He led that raid on the compound several months ago. You know the one, where they captured some would-be terrorists and killed that radical sheikh?”

“Go get him, Jameson,” ordered the detective.

“You got the Campbell’s phone number?”

“Yes, I have it,” Kendra answered.

Jameson greeted his
new LPO, who was more serious than he’d ever seen him. “Kyle, thanks for coming. I know you guys were planning on leaving today.”

“Already fixed that. So you tell me what you got. We’re just here to help,
NOT
to interfere. In fact, we’re not supposed to do much of anything except report and assist on U.S. soil. You know the drill. You’ve heard the training.”

“Yeah, like the raid on the compound.”

“We knew they were holding hostages, abusing them, too, and we didn’t want to wait for the Feds to get their act together.”

Jameson hoped he was wrong about this whole thing, but was grateful Kyle and some of the boys decided to stay back for the assist. “Well, I hope this isn’t a hostage situation. These girls are only three.”

“And you have a teenager, too. Don’t forget that. At least the girls know her.”

“Yes. Who might or might not be in on it. I just want the girls back without coming to harm.”

“Jameson, if we can obtain some good intel, we’ll get ’em back for you if they’re still in the area. But you have to understand, these types are never really predictable, and they’re on the move constantly.”

“I want you to talk to the detective who says he’s trying to bring in the FBI. They’re going over to the sitter’s house and interviewing neighbors here. He’s also talking about the girls being held for a ransom demand. It might not be terrorist-related. We don’t have any evidence of that, really. Just a hunch.”

“Yeah. That’s a pretty good hunch, though—about the size of the Jumbo Tron in San Francisco.” Kyle put his arm on Jameson’s shoulder, and he took comfort from it. “Now, let’s go meet your JV team. The varsity’s in town.”

He liked hearing that a lot.

After making the introductions, Kyle sat at Kendra’s kitchen table and examined the files the principal brought.

“So you know the sitter is missing. What about the other girl, the old sitter, the one who was hosting the exchange student. You never called her back?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are they around? Maybe they know something?”

“That’s what I was about to do. Let me call her.” As an afterthought, she looked up at the Detective. “Okay?”

“Sure. Someone knows something. Haven’t heard from my guys outside or the folks interviewing the mother, so I’m thinking we’re shooting blanks.”

“Estelle? This is Kendra Johnson.” She paused, her forehead creasing as she listened to something disturbing on the phone. “When was the last time you saw her?” Kendra was staring back in shock at the group overhearing her conversation, her eyes wide with worry. Jameson’s gut fell to the floor. He put his arms around Lizzie, who clutched him like the lifeline he was trying to be.

The detective extended his hand for the phone, wiggling his fingers. Kendra handed it to him.

“Mrs. Campbell? This is Detective Blalock from Nashville PD. When did you notice your daughter was missing?”

Jameson could hear the woman sounding frantic and learned she hadn’t been missing longer than today, which relieved him.

“And how about your exchange student, um,” he checked the paperwork, “Malia, is that how you pronounce it? Is she around?” He paused, waiting for the answer. “Chicago? Why would Malia go to Chicago?” After an explanation, Blalock added, “We’ll be sending over some people. Not sure if we can round them up tonight, but I need you to stay home until we take a look at Malia and Maureen’s room, okay?”

He sighed. “Now there’re
four
girls missing. I’m gonna need additional resources. Excuse me while I go call the Bureau.”

Kyle motioned to Jameson and Lizzie to follow him outside. Jameson knew he was hatching a plan.

“Listen, we need to get over to that house and find out if there’s anything there that will point to where they’ve gone.”

“Right.”

“What’s this about Chicago?” Lizzie asked.

“We’ve just learned about this other guy, this new shiekh—you know when they lose one they replace them with another one to take his place? We had one leader in the central valley in California go to prison for income tax evasion. The one before him was deported. They send replacements quick.

“But in Chicago, there’s a group that worships at the White Mosque, and they are especially unfriendly individuals. Discreetly, I think we’ve had our eye on them, but you didn’t hear it from me, okay?”

“So we go then.” Jameson looked at Lizzie. “You okay with this?”

“I should stay with Kendra.”

“Yes. And you can let us know if something comes up on this end. You can be our eyes and ears here. Jameson, you, me, and the boys will head over there right now. I’m gonna need that address. Can you grab it?”

“Of course.”

With the plan in place, Jameson noted the address and committed it to memory. Lizzie sent a text with Mrs. Campbell’s phone number when Kendra gave it to her, and the five SEALs left for the house, luckily only ten minutes away.

‡

T
hey elected not
to call the Campbell residence beforehand and just show up, letting Mrs. Campbell think they were with the local police. She ushered them into an upstairs room done in flowered wallpaper, which hid what Jameson knew was a dark secret. The frilly outward appearance only added to the danger he felt at hand.

A bulletin board made of covered fabric and laced with satin ribbon held pictures of dances and events, outings with friends, pets, and hunky movie stars. On the opposite wall, all by itself, was a huge poster of Jameson.

“Well, would you look at that,” Fredo quipped. “We got us a fan. I’m guessing it’s not the Syrian girl.”