Blackmail (16 page)

She passed him a terry cloth towel. “What'd he say?”

“I explained, and he's a little ticked you didn't report the blackmail letters, but he knows the primary focus now has to be on finding Caleb. He and those FBI agents are on their way here now.”

“Do the agents have to come?”

“Technically, yes. It's a kidnapping of a minor and that falls under federal jurisdiction.” He rubbed his head with the towel.

“Great.”

He tossed the towel onto the back of the bar stool and reached for her. She was warm against his chest. “We'll find him.”

Her body shook as she sobbed. “It's all my fault. They warned me, but I didn't listen.”

“Shh. It's not your fault. It's going to be all right.”

“I didn't back off the investigation. I put my brother, whom I was supposed to protect, directly in harm's way.”

“No, you didn't. These guys were targeting Vermilion Oil before Caleb even got to Lagniappe. They're the criminals and the ones to blame, not you.”

Her cries intensified and he held her tighter.

Lord, please let it be all right.

S
adie twisted her hands in her lap, staring at Sheriff Theriot and the two FBI agents. “And that's all I know.”

“He was at school today, but never got on the bus,” Jon interjected.

“You should've called us as soon as you got the first letter,” Agent Ward said with a sneer. “We could have prevented this from happening.”

Oh, why not just hand her the ticket for a guilt trip?

Jon's grip on her shoulder tightened, providing her with the strength she needed. She relaxed under his touch.

“Well, I didn't. So we need to get moving now. We know Caleb's been missing less than an hour. We need to be out in the bayou looking for him.”

“We know how to do our jobs.” Agent Lockwood was just as arrogant as his counterpart. “We'll take it from here.”

Sheriff Theriot stood and put his cap back on. “My men know this area better. I'll order my deputies to start making tracks around the bayou. We'll call in the dogs, see if they can get Caleb's scent now that the rain's slacked off.”

“In case we weren't clear, Sheriff, this is our case and we'll run it as we see fit.” Ward stood and nodded at Lockwood. “We'll have a team over here from New Orleans in less than two hours.”

“Two hours! Caleb could be dead by then. If he isn't already.”
Sadie swallowed back the tears. She wouldn't give these
cooyons
the satisfaction of seeing her cry. But they needed to get off their duffs and find her brother.

“Ma'am, we know what we're doing. You stay here and call us immediately if you hear anything.” Agent Ward passed her a business card. “Wait for our men to get here. We'll set up a phone tap, have agents on-site in the event we're needed.”

“Bu—”

“We'll report in when we know something.” Agent Lockwood led the way to the front door.

The two agents left without another word.

Sadie felt as if her world was coming to an end. In a sense, it was. Why hadn't she listened to Jon and turned the letters over to the sheriff before something happened to her brother?

“Listen, I'm going to follow up with this Ethan Hebert. I'll keep in touch.” Sheriff Theriot tipped his hat and left.

“I can't just sit here and do nothing.” Sadie stood and paced. Where was Caleb? Was he okay? Was he scared?

What if Caleb was alive, waiting for someone to rescue him? Those FBI agents didn't know the area…didn't know the bayou at all. Even the agents from New Orleans would be no help.

“Why don't I call Spencer Bertrand to come over and sit with us?”

“Okay.” Maybe Pastor would be able to share with her some Scripture to comfort her. A promise from God that everything was going to be all right.

Father, please protect Caleb. He's my brother, but Your son.

While Jon moved to make the call, Sadie ran over ideas in her head. If Derrick Roberts was the one who had Caleb, he knew the bayous inside and out. The FBI didn't stand a chance of finding Caleb in time.

Spence is on his way. He's bringing Felicia.

Kind, sweet Felicia, who cooked like nobody's business. Had it only been two days since they'd broken bread together?

Wait a minute…there was someone who knew the bayous
better than Derrick or any other hunter. CoCo! She knew every tree, limb and alligator.

Could she ask CoCo to search the bayou in her condition? Then again, the woman had continued making her bayou runs. If she was unable to get out in the bayou in this heat, maybe she'd know someone who would help.

Finally feeling as if she were doing something productive, Sadie passed a shell-shocked–looking Jon and grabbed the phone. Then she realized she didn't know CoCo's phone number. She yanked the phone book off the buffet and flipped to the right section, praying CoCo and Luc had a listed number.

Thank You, Jesus.
She found the number and pressed buttons. Luc answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Luc, it's Sadie. I need to talk to CoCo. It's urgent.”

“Sure. Hang on.” A clunk sounded over the line, followed by Luc yelling for his wife, then muffled voices.

Seconds fell off the clock, feeling like hours before movement sounded on the connection. “Hello.”

“CoCo, it's Sadie. I need your help.”

“What's up?”

Sadie took a deep breath and filled CoCo in on the blackmail letters, Caleb being missing, the FBI's ineptitude and her belief that her brother was already in the bayou somewhere. She struggled to keep the emotion out of her voice so CoCo could understand her.

“I'm on it,
Boo.
Here, jot down my cell phone so you can keep me updated.” CoCo rattled off seven numbers.

“
Merci,
CoCo, but are you sure you're up to going out and searching in this heat? In your condition?”

CoCo laughed. “Girl, I'm pregnant, not an invalid. Besides, Luc won't let me go alone anymore, so he'll be with me.”

“I really appreciate this.”

“I'll call if I find anything.”

The line went dead. Sadie hung up the phone and turned to Jon.

“Smart thinking.”

Now that she'd made the call, she felt helpless again. Nothing to do but sit around and wait. This was her brother in danger!

Jon collected her into his arms, holding her close enough that she could hear the beating of his heart. It calmed her. His lips connected with her temple. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, drawing strength and resolve from him.

With his knuckle under her chin, he lifted her face and stared deeply into her eyes. Sadie's heart beat double-time. Her mouth went dry.

Ever so softly, barely more than a feather's graze, his lips moved against hers. She felt dizzy but alive. She reached for him with both hands, running her fingers through the back of his short hair.

He dipped his head again, kissing her gently.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Sadie jumped out of Jon's embrace. For a moment, disorientation ruled her mind. Disorientation and peace. And then she remembered why Jon was here. Caleb was missing!

Bam! Bam!
“Sadie? Jon? You in there? It's Spence and Felicia.”

Sadie rushed to the door and flung it open. Felicia wrapped her arms around Sadie's shoulders. “I'm so sorry for what's happened. Come on, let's go to the kitchen and get some hot tea brewing.”

Before Sadie could gather her thoughts, Felicia had her in the kitchen, pulling out the kettle.

Pastor's and Jon's voices rumbled from the living room.

“Now, that's on, yes?” Felicia flipped the stove on high. “So, fill me in. What's happening?”

As Sadie went through the tale again, Pastor walked in and stood behind his wife. When she was finished, she felt spent. Wasted. Drained.

“We've been praying, of course. What else can we do for you?” Pastor's face was wreathed in concern.

“Nothing. The FBI are doing whatever it is that they do. The sheriff's following up on a lead I got this morning. CoCo and Luc are out in the bayou, looking around.” Sadie shook her head.

Lord, please let Caleb be okay.

“CoCo knows the bayou area best out of anyone in the whole state.” Felicia's eyes were still blinking with tears. Pastor put his arm around her waist.

Sadie glanced into the living room, saw no one, then looked at Pastor. “Um, where's Jon?”

“He said he was following up on a lead, for me to stay here with you and he'd call us if he learned anything.”

Why hadn't he told her himself? She wasn't some weak little woman unable to handle stress. “Did he say what lead?”

Pastor shrugged. “Didn't say. Just told me it'd take only half an hour or so. I wouldn't worry about him if I were you.”

Like she didn't have enough to worry about at the moment.

Felicia moved and put her arm around Sadie. “Honey, you look pretty worn-out. It could be a long afternoon and night. Why don't you try to get some rest?”

Rest? As if. “I don't think I could.”

“Then why don't you take a hot shower? It'll refresh you, invigorate you. Maybe you'll remember something you've forgotten. Something that could help find your brother.” As always, Felicia was gentle and understanding.

Sadie
was
exhausted. Maybe a shower would pep her up a little, clear her mind. “Okay. I think I will.”

“I'll have your tea ready when you come out.” Felicia patted her shoulder before releasing her.

Sadie trudged to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. She sat on the edge of the tub, letting the tears overtake her. Panic and fear already had a strong grip on her heart.

Father God, please keep Caleb safe until we find him.

 

He'd never felt so useless before in all his life.

Jon couldn't take it any longer—he'd had to leave. Had to do something. For Caleb. And Sadie.

Jack Kinnard had been off probation only six months. And Jon hadn't been so sure that the man should've been released from prison, much less gotten off with no supervised release. Yet
that's what the judge had deemed to be within sentencing guidelines, so that's what he'd gotten. Maybe it was past time for a little follow-up from an officer of the court.

Jon eased his car down the street Kinnard lived on. The torrential rains had ceased to a mere drizzle. Steam drifted up from the road. Humidity hung heavy in the air.

He parked three houses down, then crept toward Kinnard's home. The lawn was desperate for mowing, a fresh coat of paint was sorely needed and the truck in the driveway needed some body work. How could the man live in such disarray?

Crouching low, Jon crept alongside the house. He felt like a DEA agent or something, going in for a bust. But he wouldn't play hero. He just wanted to nose around and see if he saw something. If he did, he'd let the sheriff know immediately. But if he saw Caleb…

A dog barked from the backyard of the house next door.

Kinnard flung open the back door. “Shut up, mutt.”

Jon froze, pressing his back against the house.

“Sorry, stupid dog was barkin'.” Kinnard spoke aloud, but Jon couldn't make out another person on the deck in back. He tipped his head forward and spied the man, a phone clutched to his ear. “Okay, so you got the kid. Just keep him there till I get there.”

Jon's heart raced. Got the kid? Was he referring to Caleb?

“Stop whinin' and just keep him there. Feed him another line or something.”

He had to be referring to Caleb, and by the way he was talking, Caleb was fine. Jon sent up a quick prayer of thanks, then tuned his ears as Kinnard spoke again.

“Look, I don't care how you keep him there, just do it. I'll head that way in a few minutes. You checked him for a cell phone, didn't you? I don't want him callin' his sister and spoilin' everything. All we've worked for.”

No doubt that this man's partner had Caleb.

“Yeah, well, I'm just hangin' around here watchin' the news—see if his sister calls the police.”

Despite the sticky heat, Jon went cold.

“You don't need to worry about that. I'll make that decision when I get there, see if he's worth anything.”

Jon dared not move, but his mind rallied and screamed.

“Don't you start wimpin' out on me, kid. You were in on this from the beginning. Heck, boy, it was mainly your idea to bring the kid and blackmail into it.”

Kid? Boy? How old was Kinnard's partner? Then again, Jon had noticed that a lot of people around town referred to others as
boy, son
and
kid.
Must be a Southern thing.

“Well, I didn't mean to hit the guy. I was tryin' to hit the facility and it was dark. Besides, his death worked out okay for us, didn't it?”

Excitement lit in Jon. He'd just overheard a confession. As soon as Kinnard got off the phone and went back inside, Jon could get out of the man's yard. He couldn't wait to call the sheriff and tell him what he'd overheard. Probably a really good idea to not be caught here.

The dog growled at the fence. Only four feet away, Jon held his breath. If Kinnard moved two steps toward the fence, he'd see Jon.

“I told you to shut up, ya stupid mutt.” A scraping sounded, then a crushed-up beer can hit the fence. The dog yelped and moved away.

“I'm gonna check the local stations one more time, then I'll head that a-way.”

A door slammed.