Taken

CHAPTER ONE-4

“Four on the courthouse. I’ll have to call for someone to get that for you,” said the Sheriff.

Marsha looked at the Chief of Police, “How many businesses have video?”

“I don’t know. Some do, and some don’t.”

“Can you get someone to call all the business owners and tell them to come here?”

“I’ll get the dispatcher to call everyone. Maybe we will get lucky.”

“I just hope we haven’t run out of time. They can be out of the county in twenty minutes,” said Marsha.

“How did they do it?” asked the Sheriff.

“I don’t know. Agent Monroe was shot from the front. Agent Webb was shot in the back of the head and Agent Ford was shot in the left temple.”

“So, the gunshots came from three different directions?” asked the Chief of Police looking around the square.

“We believe there were three shooters. Agent Ford would normally check behind the group by looking over his shoulder.”

“Ah, the ‘Sidekick’.”

“I believe the locals call him that,” said Marsha.

“One of our agents saw the person who grabbed her. Medium height and build, wearing a black cowboy hat and green jacket. He had a full beard,” said Agent Clark.

“Ma’am you just described half the men in Kerney county,” said the Sheriff.

“I know.”

“Let’s go talk to the owner of the salon,” said Marsha.

“You think she saw something?”

“No.”

“Well, why do you want to talk to her? I can vouch for her. She had nothing to do with this,” said the Sheriff.

“Didn’t say she did but there is something I need to find out.”

“Let me talk to her first,” said the Sheriff.

“She related to you?” asked Marsha.

“First cousin.”

“I see.”

The Sheriff, the Chief of Police, Sandra Clark and Marsha used the opening in the window to get inside. They could hear the baby crying. As they approached the bathroom door the crying got louder. The Sheriff knocked on the door and tried the door knob. It was locked.

“Courtney, it’s me, the Sheriff, open the door.”

“No!” came from the other side.

“Courtney.”

“No, no, no, no, I am not coming out.”

“Courtney, we need to talk to you.”

“No!”

Marsha said, “Excuse me,” and went around the Sheriff. She knocked on the door.

“Courtney, this is Marsha Jefferson. Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, don’t kick the door down, I am coming out.”

The door opened. All the color was drained out of Courtney’s face. The baby was screaming. Marsha put her hand in front of the baby’s face, snapped her fingers, pointed at the baby and said, “Be quiet.”

The baby quit crying and laid his head on Courtney’s shoulder and went to sleep.

“Courtney, did you tell anyone Mrs. MacDonald had an appointment for three o’clock?”

“No, I know better than that,” wiping the tears away.

“Do you have an appointment book?”

“Sure.”

“Where is it?”

“On the front counter.”

“Could someone, a customer, have seen her name in the appointment book?”

“Her name is not in the book.”

“Show me.”

“It just has ‘Special.’”

“Special?”

“Yeah, anytime someone wants a special, I write that down.”

“So, you write ‘Special’ for other people, too?”

“Yeah, sometimes it may take three or four hours and if you have other customers you might get distracted and ruin someone’s hair,” said Courtney.

“Show me the appointment book.”

“It’s up front.”

In the front room, Courtney saw the chairs and the shattered window.

“My God, what happened in here?”

“Our agents had to get out. The door was blocked.”

“How was the door blocked?”

“The man that kidn*pped Mrs. MacDonald blocked the door.”

“Mrs. Beverly was kidn*pped? Why would someone do that?”

“That’s what we are trying to find out,” said the Sheriff.

The appointment book had ‘Special’ for three o’clock. Other slots had ‘Special’, mostly on a Friday or Saturday.

“How did she make the appointment? Did she call you or what?”

“She told me.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, three or four weeks ago.”

“Where did you see her?”

Marsha knew Beverly didn’t come to town very often.

“She was at the Broken Spoke Hotel. It was for the animal shelter. A group of ladies were discussing how to raise money. I gave ten dollars.”

“I remember that. And she asked you to make an appointment for her?”

“Yeah, she said the Saturday before Good Friday. I had to look at the calendar because I didn’t know when Good Friday was. You know it changes every year.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone. I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you. How many people were in the dining room when she asked you about the appointment?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, maybe forty people.”

“Was it possible that one of those people could have overheard the conversation?”

“I don’t know, I guess so.”

“Thank you, Courtney. You have a beautiful baby.”

“What do I do about my window?”

“Do you have insurance?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“Aw man!”

“The Government will take care of it. Have someone repair it and send me the bill.”

Out on the sidewalk Marsha told Agent Clark to go to the Broken Spoke Hotel and get credit cards and registrations for the time Beverly was at the meeting in the hotel.

Agents Simpson and Wilcox were looking the van and truck over that was behind the grocery store two blocks west of the beauty salon.

“Both from the west coast.”

“Bet they are the only two vehicles in Kerney County from Oregon and Washington.”

“Wonder what’s taking so long to find out if they are stolen?” said Wilcox.

“Oh, they’re stolen. You can count on that. Have they been reported as stolen is the question right now?”

“They will probably be reported as stolen when the FBI shows up on their doorsteps,” said Wilcox.

“Think we will find her?”

“Yeah, we’ll find her, eventually.”

“How many shots did you hear?” asked Simpson.

“Two.”

“But we know there were three fired.”

“Yeah, and it almost sounded as one shot. I have to admit they were good shots,” said Wilcox.

“Or, just lucky.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” said Wilcox.

“Wonder where the guy came from?”

“The man with the cane?”

“Yeah, the guy with the cane.”

“I don’t know, all the stores were closed.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simpson.

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“If the guy happened to just walk by, why did they get out of the car with Mrs. MacDonald?”

“They wouldn’t. There was no need to be in any hurry. They would have stayed in the car until the guy was gone,” said Wilcox.

“He had to come out of a*****e after Mrs. MacDonald was out of the car.”

“Yeah, but which one?”

“Not but two he could have come out of, and one of them is empty.”

Marsha Jefferson was standing in front of the Thrift store. The Kerney Chief of Police was standing beside her.

“It’s closed yet the lights are on. Wonder why?”

“Maybe they forgot to turn them off.”

“The man that grabbed her came out of one of these stores after Beverly was out of the car.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s the way we do it. The vehicle is armored. She’s safe as long as she is in the vehicle. You don’t get out of the car with a potential threat walking by.”

“How would the agents know if someone is a potential threat?”

“Everyone is a potential threat.”

“Does the Secret Service trust anyone?”

“No, we trust no one.”

“I couldn’t live like that.”

“Few people can. I want to look inside.”

Beverly put on the coveralls and the socks. The coveralls were a medium and Beverly was petite. Even the socks were too big. She rolled up the legs and the arms of the coveralls. They would have to do. What choice did she have? She was just thankful to have something on. She looked around her cell. She estimated that it was about ten feet across and eight feet from the back wall to the iron bars of the front. There was a small fluorescent bulb on the ceiling. A chemical toilet was in the corner. A curtain offered some privacy. The mattress was foam rubber with a cloth covering. A sink with no faucet was attached to the wall. Twenty, one-gallon plastic jugs were on one shelf. The food was granola bars, trail mix, snack cakes, saltine crackers and meal ready to eat (MRE’s). She read the instructions. Seemed simple enough.

She sat on the bed and looked at the walls. The walls weren’t brick or concrete blocks. The walls appeared to be metal. She got up and tapped on them with her knuckles, steel. The floor was steel, as was the ceiling. She tried the bars, they wouldn’t budge. Six feet beyond the bars was another wall with a solid metal door. There was a light on the ceiling, but it was off. A single lawn chair was in the room. Beverly wondered how long they were going to keep her. From the amount of food and water it looked like it was going to be a while.

Sheila MacDonald, Josh’s wife, had just gotten back from shopping. Monica, the four-year-old, was playing in the living room. Sheila heard someone knock on the front door.

“I got it,” yelled Monica.

“No, I’ll get it,” said Sheila.

Monica, being the typical four-year-old always wanted to answer the phone and the door. Sheila opened the door. Two men wearing navy blue suits were standing side by side. Both men were holding their identification at eye level where Sheila could see it.

“Mrs. MacDonald?” said one of the agents.

“Yes.”

“May we come in?”

“You’re Secret Service, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, come on in.”

“Thank you,” said one agent

“I saw enough Secret Service Agents in Kerney. I can spot one a mile away.”

Both men smiled.

“Do you know when Mr. MacDonald will be home?” said one of the agents.

“About five, he’s flying.”

“Is this Monica?”

“Yes, it is, Monica say hello.”

“Hello,” said Monica.

“Is something wrong?” asked Sheila.

“Do you mind if we wait on your husband to get home?”

“No, I don’t mind, but there is something wrong, isn’t there?”

“We should wait until he gets home.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“No Ma’am, it’s best if we wait.”

A City of Kerney Police Officer escorted a man to the Chief of Police.

“Chief.”

“Yeah, what you got?”

“This gentleman may have seen something.”

Marsha Jefferson heard the exchange and walked over.

“This is Mr. Tyson. He is staying a few days at the Broken Spoke Hotel. Mr. Tyson, this is the Chief of Police. Please tell him what you saw.”

“I was smoking a cigarette. My wife was taking a shower. I stepped out on the upstairs balcony. You know they won’t let you smoke inside. I saw some people go in the building here. A few minutes later a man wearing a green jacket and a black hat came out of the store.” Mr. Tyson pointed at the Thrift store. Before he could continue Marsha said, “You sure you saw him come out of the Thrift store?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

The Chief said, “Then what happened?”

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Just one?”

“I believe it was just one, but I am not positive.”

“And then what happened?” asked the Chief.

“The man in the green jacket ran back this way. I thought he was running away from the shooting.”

“Was he holding a metal cane like this one?” asked the chief pointing at the metal cane still in the door. Mr. Tyson shook his head ‘No.’

“If he was, I didn’t see it.”

“Can you tell us what kind of hat he was wearing?”

“A cowboy hat, seems like everyone wears one of those here.”

“Where are you from, Sir?”

“New Orleans.”

“How long will you be staying?”