The Fed Man (21 page)

Nancy put her arms around her son and with a half smile said, “He is, son. Mr. Lawson is a nice man. He didn’t do anything. He just had some sad news, that’s all.”

Looking confused, he glanced from his mother to Nube and asked, “Are we still going for ice cream?”

Nancy gave him another hug and said, “Perhaps another time, wouldn’t you say, Nube?”

“Your mother is right, pal. We’ll do that another time. I promise. It’s getting late and I still have some work to do tonight and besides, I have to let Ms. Abby out for a run. She’s been cooped up all day in her kennel and needs to stretch her legs. Maybe your mom will let you come over someday and help me when I exercise Ms. Abby. How’s that sound?”

Before PJ could say anything, Nancy responded, “That sounds like a good idea. Someday, but not tonight, son. Now it’s time for you to start getting ready for bed, young man.” Turning to Nube, she continued, “You will stay in touch, won’t you Nube?”

“You can count on it. Both of you.” He looked at Nancy. “I’ve asked Chief Bushmiller to have a car stationed close to your home every night until we catch this guy. Please try not to worry, and I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”

During the short walk home, he replayed the entire conversation in his mind. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became and the stronger his resolve to catch this asshole grew. But his innate senses began to kick in and the short hairs on the back of his neck began to stiffen. There was something going on right now, but he could not identify it. His pace quickened and then he began to lightly jog. As he approached his home, he whistled softly and waited for Abby’s answer. Hearing her bark, he slowed to a walk and took a deep breath. But he knew that the perp was lurking out there somewhere.

Looking through a small space between two of the large bougainvillea bushes that marked the boundary between Nancy Jameson’s home and that of her neighbor’s small rambler, the perp’s half-lip snarl began to appear. He thought everyone was making this way too easy for him. He noticed the police car parked at the end of the block, but it had just pulled away. That’s what happens when the not-so-smart cops drink a lot of coffee while on surveillance. And he could see the boy’s mom through the curtain-free window of her kitchen at the rear of the house.

He returned his attention to the young boy swinging a golf club on the front lawn. He thought to himself that the boy actually had a pretty nice swing. Well, time was of the essence, so he slowly rose, stopped to smell the sweet fragrance of one of the numerous flowers on the bush in front of him, and then made his way through the bushes to the sidewalk. He almost chuckled as he thought that the Fed Man should have listened to him and left town. Now he would show the Fed Man who was the smart one. He was going to win.

PJ saw the man in the hooded gray sweatshirt stop close to where he was swinging his 7-iron. “I couldn’t help but notice, son, that you have a very nice swing for such a young man. What iron are you using, if I may ask?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, mister.”

Taking a moment to sneak a look to insure that the cop car had not returned, he continued. “I’m home visiting my parents who live on the next block, and just thought I’d take a walk before dinner. Now what iron did you say you were using?”

“I’m using my 7-iron.”

“Do you have your own clubs?”

“Yes, sir. A friend of mine gave them to me.”

“Well, it’s obvious that your mama has taught you manners. That’s good. Just aren’t enough polite young people these days. Have you had lessons?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you by any chance ever read Ben Hogan’s book on golf?”

“You mean
Five Lessons: The Modern Fundamentals of Golf?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Yes, I have.” Bending down, he picked up the book and held it up for the stranger to see. “I have it right here. My friend gave that to me along with the clubs. I read it while I’m practicing.”

He was starting to become anxious knowing that the time to accomplish his deed was growing shorter by the moment. He took a step onto the lawn and said, “I’ve read it a bazillion times myself.
Mind if I show you something that might help you with trying to stay on plane?”

“Gee, I don’t know, mister.”

“It’s okay, son. I’ll just show you this one tip and then I have to get back to my parents’ home.” Raising his head, he smiled and inhaled deeply. “I can almost smell my mama’s pot roast from here.”

He quickly walked over and picked up an iron lying on the ground and began swinging it.

“You see what I’m doing, son? This is what Hogan meant when he talked about getting the club on plane. How about if I stand behind you and guide you through the swing?”

He could see that the boy was beginning to become anxious, so he walked behind him and said, “Now just pretend you’re addressing the ball.” He reached around from behind and put his left hand on the boy’s hand while slipping a syringe out of his sweatshirt pocket.

PJ never saw the syringe the perp used to inject a small dose of ketamine into the base of his neck.

He lowered the boy gently to the ground and ran to the porch where he tacked a note to the door. Returning to the boy, he made sure he was breathing, and then took a quick look to insure that the cop car had not returned and that no one was out walking. He picked up the boy, hurried behind the large bougainvillea bushes, and continued to the alley behind the Jameson house, where he had left his red Nissan pickup. The half-lip snarl was in full bloom as he thought to himself that the Fed Man just should have left town.

He gently laid the boy on the seat of the truck and retrieved a roll of duct tape from under the seat. He couldn’t help but think that this one roll of tape had come in handy so many times. And not just to hold his truck together. He placed a single strip over the boy’s mouth, making sure he didn’t obstruct his nose. He grabbed a piece of tissue from the dash and held it under the boy’s nose and watched as the tissue moved with each slow exhalation, indicating that he could breathe okay. He cut two more long strips and used one to tape the boy’s hands behind his back and the other to bind his legs together. Then he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the package containing light green crew socks and laid them on the seat next to the boy. Shaking his head, he wondered who the hell in their right mind would ever wear socks this color. He started to chuckle and banged the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. “Damn, this is fun.”

The Nissan started easily this time. He eased the POS out of the alley, turned left for half a block, and then turned left again to pass in front of the Jameson home. He stopped in front of the house and honked the horn. Then he leaned out of the window and whistled as loud as he could. He left the POS in gear with his foot on the brake. When he saw Mrs. Jameson come out on the porch, he laughed as loud as he could, yelled a message, waved, and then sped away.

Nancy was working in the kitchen preparing some homemade vegetable soup just like her mother used to make when she heard the honk and the shrill whistle. She dropped a plate of vegetables
on the floor and ran to the front door. She quickly scanned the yard for PJ, but did not see him. She could see an old red pickup truck in the street with a man in a gray sweatshirt waving at her. Pushing open the door and stepping out on the porch, she heard him laughing hysterically. Then he yelled, “Say hi to the Fed Man.”

Pulling at the hair on both sides of her head, she ran into the yard screaming, “PJ … Nooooo!” She watched the old pickup truck turn right at the end of the block and thought she could still hear the driver laughing. She began to sob uncontrollably as she turned and ran back to the house.

Nube was sitting in his rocker on the porch with a cold Heineken in his hand, light jazz on his Bose radio, and Ms. Abby lying by his side. The ring of the cell phone, startled him and caused Ms. Abby to bark. He saw Jameson on the caller ID and flipped open the phone, thinking that this was certainly a nice surprise. However, before he could even say hello, he heard Nancy screaming about someone taking PJ.

Knowing immediately that he was going to have to leave, he opened the door to his house and pointed at the dog, who moved slowly toward the opening. Nancy continued to scream about PJ, some man, and a red pickup. He began jogging toward his Audi, but stopped and yelled into the phone. “Nancy! Listen to me! Please listen to me!”

Her shrieks diminished to sobs and he continued. “Now, please tell me exactly what happened so I can help you. What was PJ doing, what happened, and just what exactly did you see?”

Through her sobs, Nancy told Nube what had happened.

By the time she was finished, Nube was already in his car. He took a deep inhale and then swore under his breath. “Nancy, listen to me and listen very carefully. I want you to go in the house, don’t touch a thing, and wait for me. I’m already on my way and will be there in just a couple of minutes.”

He hit the speed-dial button for Doc’s cell. Fortuitously, Doc answered on the first ring. “Hey, Nube. What’s going on?”

With the phone tucked between his right ear and shoulder so he could shift the Audi, he replied, “Look, Doc. The perp has kidnapped PJ. I’ll be at Nancy’s place in about fifteen seconds. Call Naldie and Pete and meet me there.”

Without waiting for a reply, he snapped the phone shut and slid around the corner onto Van Buren Street, coming to a screeching halt in front of the Jameson home. He threw the door of the Audi open and sprinted to the house, where he was met by Nancy on the porch.

She began sobbing uncontrollably again so he just held her tight for a moment. Continuing to sob, she began beating on his chest and yelling, “Why, Nube? You said you would protect us and nothing would happen to PJ or to me. Now look what’s happened! That pervert has taken my son! My son, the only thing I have left in this entire world!”

Nube did not loosen his hold and the sobbing slowly began to subside. She pushed herself back and looked him in the eye. “What are we going to do, Nube? How are we going to get PJ back? Please don’t let him hurt my boy.”

He loosened his hold a bit and before he could respond, he could hear the sirens of the approaching police vehicles. “We’re
going to get him back, Nancy. And I will not let him get hurt. I promised you that before and I promise you again right now. He will not get hurt.”

While talking to her and trying to calm her down, he saw the note pinned to the door frame with the large Franklin Gothic font. Releasing Nancy, he reached over and tore the note from the door frame.

He jammed the paper into his jeans pocket and placed each hand firmly on Nancy’s shoulders.

“I’m going after him, Nancy. You stay here until Naldie, Pete, and Doc arrive. Have them start their investigation right here and wait until I call. I think I know where he’s going and I’ll call them.” Tightening his grip just a bit, he looked her in the eyes and said as reassuringly as he could, “It’s going to be all right. I promise.” And with that he released his grip and turned to the street.

The Audi lurched away from the curb and responded to Nube’s coaxing like a champion Thoroughbred. Speeding through the quiet streets of Oak Ridge, he pounded the steering wheel and yelled, “Think, Nube, think! You want to be a profiler, so think like one! Where would this crazy, perverted son of a bitch take this little boy?”

Suddenly, he reached for his cell phone, flipped it open, and hit the speed-dial button again. Doc answered on the second ring. “Where are you, Nube?”

“It’s the pit, Doc! Whitsell’s pit! That’s where this crazy asshole is taking PJ. He needs to return to his scene, his stage. It all makes perfect sense. The pit is where he’s in charge and where he decides who dies and when. It fits his profile. That’s where I’m heading right now. Tell Naldie and Pete that I believe he’ll enter the pit on the trail that leads off Schwartz’s driveway. He’ll be able to hide his truck and enter the pit unnoticed. I’m en route there now, Doc.”

“Okay, Nube. I’ll tell them and I’ll bring Nancy. For God’s sake, son, be careful. We don’t need any more problems than we already have tonight.”

But Nube didn’t hear the last part. He had already closed his phone. He flew through the gears as he headed north out of Oak Ridge. When he dared look at the speedometer he was going 105 mph. He told himself that he had better back off a bit. You just never knew on these rural roads when a deer or some other varmint might decide to cross the road.

In the distance he thought he could see a faint red glow and within a few seconds he was sure that it was a single red taillight. Just as soon as he was sure, the light turned right and left the paved county road. Nube guessed by the approximate distance that the vehicle had just turned into Schwartz’s driveway.

The perp looked over his shoulder as he turned into Schwartz’s driveway. The halogen lights told him that the Fed Man was following. He chuckled as he thought that things were working just as he had planned. He could hear the boy breathing softly and with what sounded like a snore coming through the duct tape.

Seeing the trail that led up the ridge toward the pit, he pulled his pickup sharply off the road and into the brush. There was no concern for the safety or welfare of this old POS. After this was over he was definitely getting himself a new ride. And if Jason Archer wouldn’t work with him this time, then he would move up on the list and he would be next.

He drove the Nissan as far as it would go and then killed the lights and the motor. Reaching under the seat, he retrieved two more pieces of equipment he would need tonight. The first was a set of night-vision goggles. He remembered how they paid for themselves on his last two visits to this pit. Otherwise he would have been scratched to hell, trying to move through this tangled mess. The second was a new axe. He loved the way it felt in his hands. Snickering, he thought of the power this little beauty conveyed to him.