Torn Apart (27 page)

“J.R.! Glad you finally checked in. We’ve been worried. Is your family all okay?”

“No. I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Brent said.

“My son has been kidnapped.”

Brent Macklan’s stomach fell. “Oh, my God. What’s the ransom? Whatever you need, just ask.”

“No ransom. The man who took him is a convicted child molester.”

“Sweet Lord,” Brent said. “What can I do?”

“I need one of the company choppers to come and get me. The man has at least a three-hour head start. We don’t know where he went, but we know what he’s driving. I need to do something. I can’t just sit and wait.”

“Are you in Bordelaise?”

“Yes.”

“I have a chopper less than thirty minutes away. It’s yours. Where can he land?”

“There’s a helipad behind the hospital on the west edge of town. I’ll be waiting. And, boss…thank you.”

“No thanks needed. Just find your boy,” Brent said. “I’ll say prayers.”

“Thanks,” J.R. said, and then started the truck.

“What are you going to do?” Katie asked.

“Get in the air. I can’t stand by and wait. I have to go, Katie. I just have to.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said.

“No. I need you to go back to the police station. Stay by Vera and the radio. We can’t use cell phones in the air, but if you hear anything that might tell us which direction they went, you have to convince her to let me know.”

Katie nodded. “I won’t flake out again. I promise.”

“I know that,” J.R. said, and headed for the helipad.

As soon as they arrived, he turned to Katie, cupped his hand against the back of her head and pulled her to him.

Their lips met in a hard, desperate kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I
will
find him, baby. I promise. I won’t come back without him.”

Too moved to speak, Katie could only nod.

“I’m getting out now,” J.R. said. “The chopper should be here within a few minutes. You drive back to the station and stay close to the radio. Whatever traffic you hear related to Bobby, I need to know.”

She nodded again. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

He had started to get out when she grabbed his hand.

“Wait.”

“What is it, honey?”

“I love you, J.R. Remember that. No…matter what, I love you.”

His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled down his face.

“Ah, Jesus…I love you, too, Katie bug. Stay strong for me and for Bobby, you hear?”

“I hear,” she said softly.

“Now go. I don’t want the chief to know what I’m doing until we’re already in the air.”

Katie watched him walk away, then put the truck in gear and drove away without looking back.

J.R. paced around the helipad like a caged tiger, constantly scanning the skies. About fifteen minutes later he began hearing the chopper before he actually saw it. When it finally appeared on the horizon, like a big black bug, coming closer and closer, he stopped pacing.

He didn’t know how the next few hours were going to play out, or what he would find at the end of their journey, but there was one certainty in his head. Newt Collins was, for all intents and purposes, a dead man.

Bobby woke up before he opened his eyes. The first thing he thought was that his hands and feet were no longer tied and he was not in that bed. When he heard the familiar sound of a car engine and realized he was moving, his heart skipped a beat. How would Daddy find him if they were no longer in Bordelaise?

In a panic, he kicked back the covers and sat up.

“Well, now! Look who woke up!” Newt said, and smiled widely.

“Where are we?” Bobby asked.

“We’re going on vacation,” Newt said. “And I’ll bet you’re hungry as a little bear. See that sack? There’s corn dogs and burritos inside. Grab yourself one and chow down, boy. It’ll make you grow big and tall like me.”

Bobby saw the sack and the food inside. He didn’t want to be hungry, but he was. Still, he hesitated. Everything the man gave him was suspect. He didn’t want to be sleepy again.

“It’s okay,” Newt said. “See, it’s still all wrapped up from the store just like I bought it. Have one.”

Bobby eyed the man behind the wheel, then the sack again. A few moments later, he reached in and pulled out a corn dog. When he started to climb up into the seat to eat it, Newt stopped him.

“Whoa, whoa! Why don’t you just eat down there? That way, if you make crumbs, it won’t matter, okay?”

Bobby shrugged then peeled back the paper wrapping and took his first bite. The crust was soft and the weiner was cold. It didn’t taste as good as a hot one, but he was too hungry to argue. He wouldn’t let himself think of how good his mama used to make his food. Mama was in heaven. He didn’t want to think about never seeing Mama again and took another bite.

“How about some chips?” Newt asked, and offered the open bag.

Bobby frowned.

Newt stuffed his hand inside, pulled out a handful and started eating them as he drove.

When Bobby realized Newt was eating them, he took some, too, knowing the bad man wouldn’t eat sleepy chips, because he had to drive.

Newt waited until he knew the kid was bound to be thirsty before he offered him something to drink.

“There’s Pepsi in a can and water in a bottle. Help yourself,” he said.

Bobby eyed the drinks. None of them had been opened. They should be safe, as well. He chose water, but then couldn’t open it.

“Here, let Uncle Newt help you with that,” Newt said, and quickly broke the seal, then handed it back for Bobby to open.

Bobby took a small sip, then let the water go down his throat, waiting to see if he tasted that bitter aftertaste. When he didn’t, he took a bigger drink, then settled back and finished off his corn dog, trying not to think that they were getting farther and farther away from Bordelaise.

Sixteen

T
aking Interstate 49 was proving to be a good choice, Newt thought, as the miles between them and Bordelaise continued to lengthen.

Bobby was sitting quietly on the floor of the truck, eating his food. Newt was truly sorry that he’d had to resort to force with the kid, and even sorrier that Bobby was sporting two black eyes and a swollen nose. Newt considered himself a kind man, albeit a kind man with a quirk. He got a kick out of watching the little boy enjoy something he’d provided without fighting or complaining. It gave him a sense of empowerment.

Getting burned had been a setback to their new relationship, but he hadn’t lost his touch. He knew how to get around kids’ inhibitions, and food and kindness were the easiest and most obvious methods.

“Want a cookie, kid?” Newt asked, as Bobby washed down the last of his chips with a drink of cold water. “They’re in the sack by me. Help yourself.”

When Bobby started to get up to reach the sack, Newt yelled before he thought.

“No, no, stay down, stay down! The crumbs, remember?”

He tossed the pack of cookies toward Bobby before returning his attention to driving, but Bobby just shoved the cookies away, then sat with his arms folded over his chest and a nervous expression on his face.

Newt cursed beneath his breath, then reminded himself that it would be better when they got someplace new. When they were truly “on their own,” with no place for the kid to run to.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Bobby suddenly announced.

Newt frowned.

“I don’t have time to stop now.” He pointed to a used coffee cup rolling around on the floorboards. “Pee in that cup.”

“I don’t need to pee. I need to do number two,” Bobby said.

“Son of a bitch,” Newt muttered. “Can’t you hold it?”

“Not for long,” Bobby said. “I need to go. Bad.”

“Great,” Newt muttered. “Just great. Well, you’re gonna have to hold it for a couple of miles until we get to the next gas station. I saw a sign a while back. We should be coming up on one anytime.”

Bobby nodded, but he continued to fidget until he had Newt convinced that unless he stopped soon, he would have to smell shit all the way to Texas. When he finally saw the oil company sign looming high over the small red-roofed building, he was actually relieved, even though it meant showing the kid in public.

He pulled off the highway and came to a stop to the right of the store, then pointed a finger at Bobby.

“When we go inside, you don’t ask for anything. You don’t talk to anybody. You just hold my hand and keep walking, do you understand?”

“But—”

“No buts. And don’t make me have to whup your ass!”

Bobby cowered as Newt got out. When he didn’t immediately follow, Newt paused, then looked back.

“Well, are you comin’ or not?”

Bobby lurched up from the floor of the truck and climbed out quickly, before the monster could change his mind. He was in such a hurry to get to the bathroom that when Newt grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him toward the store, he didn’t even bother to fight back.

Evaline Corwin had worked for the Gas and Grub for more than eight years. During that time she’d been robbed twice, shot at once by an ex-husband who was now serving time in Angola Prison and seen both her sons shipped off to war in Iraq. She was a tough, no-nonsense woman with a weathered expression and a soft heart for kids, which was why her motherly instincts went on alert when she saw the middle-aged man with a barrel chest dragging a little boy into the store. Even though all six gas pumps were busy outside and customers were lined up inside to pay, she paid more attention to the newcomers than normal. And after she spotted the child’s black eyes and swollen nose, her instincts moved up a notch. She knew kids often hurt themselves and, having raised two boys, was well aware that there were many ways besides abuse for a kid’s eyes to turn black. Still, the sight made her watch the unlikely pair more closely than she normally might have.

When she saw them heading toward the back of the store in a hurry, she guessed they were heading to the bathrooms. Nothing unusual about that.

“Hey, Evaline, are you gonna take my money, or is this stuff free today?”

The question shifted her attention to the trucker in front of her.

“Nothing is free these days, Marty. That’ll be twenty-two fifty.”

“Dang, woman. You’re getting all my money,” he teased.

She pointed to his burgeoning belly. “I’m not the one eating meatball subs and PayDay candy bars by the sackful.”

The trucker laughed. “You’re startin’ to sound like my wife. See you next time around, Evaline.”

“See you, Marty,” she said, as he paid up and left.

After that she moved on to the next customer, and then the next, and by the time the last customer in line had paid up and left, the man and the kid were coming back through the store.

“Hey, guys!” she called, as they walked past the counter. “How’s it going?”

Newt nodded. “Good, good. Take care,” he said, and kept on walking.

She wouldn’t have thought anything more of it, but then the little boy’s gaze locked with hers. Breath caught in the back of her throat. The plea in his eyes was heartbreaking. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew, with every fiber of her being, that the kid was in trouble.

“Hey, kid…looks like you had a run of bad luck there. How about an ice cream bar?”

Bobby nodded.

Newt frowned. “He can’t have sweets. He’s diabetic,” he snapped, and kept on walking.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything—”

They were out the door before Evaline could blink.

She watched them load up into the truck and frowned. Obviously on the move. Looked like everything they owned was packed in garbage bags in the back of that blue truck.

When they backed up and drove off, she wrote down the tag number. She didn’t know why, but it felt like the thing to do.

A short while later another spate of customers outside and in had finally driven away. She turned her attention to the TV mounted in the wall behind her just as the broadcast was suddenly interrupted by a serious of beeps.

When she realized it was an Amber Alert, her mood shifted to wondering why God let bad people anywhere near a kid. It wasn’t until they flashed a picture of the missing child on the screen that she began to really pay attention. It looked a whole lot like the kid who had just been here, although it was difficult to be certain, because of the kid’s swollen nose and black eyes. Then she heard them mention a blue truck with a lot of garbage bags in the bed, and her heartbeat accelerated. That sounded exactly like the truck in which they’d driven away. Then they gave the license number, and she picked up the scrap of paper where she’d written down that tag number. All the blood left her face, and she reached for the phone.

Katie had taken up residence in the police department, at J.R.’s request. When the Macklan Brothers chopper entered Bordelaise airspace, Hershel had immediately realized what was happening and why J.R. wasn’t with her. He needed to be in control of the situation, but he understood J.R.’s panic. Hershel had immediately requested the assistance of the Louisiana Highway Patrol, but he was still waiting for acknowledgment that they would dispatch their copter to aid in the search. In the meantime, Newton Collins was getting farther and farther away. It was a worst-case scenario, and the chief was over a barrel. He could hardly demand J.R. cease and desist when time was of the essence.

Per the chief’s request, Carter was running a credit-card check on Newton Collins. If he’d used one in the past few hours, it could give them an idea of where he was going.

In the middle of Hershel’s dilemma, Carter suddenly burst into his office.

“Chief! Newton Collins used his credit card to buy gas at Hank’s gas station this morning a little after 10:00 a.m., then at a place out on 49 a couple hours later.”

Katie had been trying to stay quiet, but when she’d seen Carter running back to the chief’s office, she’d followed. And when she heard this, she interrupted.

“Hank’s is just off Highway 190 on the west side of Bordelaise. That has to mean he went west, right?”

Hershel shoved a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but then he took Interstate 49, which means he could have gone north or south from there. We have to find out where that second station is.”