Dead for the Money (20 page)

The bird watcher looked relieved that Cher complied, however unwillingly, with his request. “Stay down here, Brodie,” he said. “I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.”

Brodie stared after him until the hatch closed over her and she heard the latch click shut. Tears threatened as she surveyed the messy, cramped cabin. She saw no hope of escape from the bird watcher, no possibility of kindness in the taciturn Cher. Despite her despair, she heard the crazy voice inside her head say, “Okay.”

She was a kidnap victim. She was probably going to be raped, possibly murdered. And her mind wanted her to believe things would be all right? Now that was crazy.

T
HINGS
HAD
BEEN
GOING
SO
WELL
, Mildred thought to herself, and then everything fell apart. She had been trying to bolster Brodie’s self-confidence, and she really believed it had been working. The child had no idea how lovely she was, and Mildred could tell she was intelligent too. With Scarlet working from the outside and her own efforts, Mildred was sure the girl would become self-confident in no time, and all her experiences with that awful mother would be forgotten. It was not easy, though. Brodie seemed to be upset at times by the encouraging words in her head.

Seamus had said hosts might think they were losing their minds, but that was a warning they probably had to give to every cross-back. It was, she told herself, like the admonition on hair color instructions: do an allergy test forty-eight hours before dying one’s hair, every single time. No one really did that. It was something the manufacturers said, just in case. She agreed that talking to a host had to be done carefully, but surely a young person who was unsure of herself could benefit from the experience of someone older. Mildred was beyond worrying about everyday things, and she knew she could help Brodie worry less too. Seamus did not understand how gentle Mildred could be. She was not pushy, not at all.

But when the kidnapper entered the picture, everything changed. It was the absolute worst thing for Brodie, and a total surprise to Mildred. She’d panicked briefly. She would admit that. Now she was trying to remain calm. She had to reassure her host and then find out exactly what this man had in mind. She hoped it was not more pain for poor little Brodie, but all she could do right now was assure her that things were going to be okay. Even if they might not.

Chapter Fourteen

D
ETERMINED
NOT
TO
GIVE
IN
to either despair or inane hopefulness, Brodie looked for something that might help her escape. She could hear the two of them on deck, moving things. Even if she could open the hatch, it was unlikely she would get past them. The boathouse was not easy to get to—or get away from. The bluff rose steeply behind it, and the lake was marshy and overgrown around the inlet. Any direction she took would be tough going, and the bird watcher had long, strong legs. He would chase her down before she got anywhere.

As she sat there, still holding her shoe, he came down the steps with a garbage bag and began picking up the trash around the cabin, dropping empty beer cans and limp bits of bread into the bag. As he worked, he talked, apparently trying to put her at ease.

“Go ahead and have something to eat while we get the boat ready.” Brodie noticed that he spoke softly, as if he did not want the woman to hear. He took three sealed deli sandwiches and several kinds of pop from a cooler, laying them out before her on the table as proudly as if he’d made them himself. “They say kids are always hungry.”

Brodie took one that said “Ham/cheese” and a soda, although she had no appetite. Maybe if he thought she was cooperating, he’d lower his guard.

“Great,” he said approvingly. “Now relax for a few, okay?” Taking his bag of trash, he went up the steps again. The hatch slid downward, ending with a wooden thud. It was like the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, because, like Alice, she had been offered a friendly reception, even refreshments, but not a clue what was going on.

A
N
HOUR
AFTER
THE
POLICE
ARRIVED
, they were no closer to finding Brodie. The dog, shown her hat, put its nose to the ground, trotted off through the trees, circled several times, and then came back, looking confused.

“Could she have climbed a tree?” Reiner asked the handler. Bud did not hear the answer, but the man’s body language suggested a negative response. “Well, keep looking.”

The tenor of the search changed when Briggs came looking for them. “Shelley got this message a few minutes ago.” He handed Bud a phone. The message read, “Gong 2 live w/my dad. Dn’t wrry abt me. Wll cll whn trn gts in2 Chcgo. Brodie.”

Bud handed the phone to Reiner, who had a hard time concealing a smug expression at confirmation that Brodie’s disappearance was voluntary. “At least now we’ve got an idea which direction to look.” His brow furrowed. “Who’s her dad?”

“I don’t know,” Bud said with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure Brodie doesn’t know, either. At least she didn’t yesterday.”

The new developments led to Reiner making more phone calls. Bud and Scarlet moved away, standing close together as if to draw support from each other.

“If some man came along and said he was her father, would she stop to ask herself if he was telling the truth?” Bud asked.

“Brodie doesn’t trust easily. Still—”

Bud thought of his mother, appearing at his door and offering the one thing he’d never had, a parent. “If the guy knew which buttons to push, she might go for it.”

Reiner closed his phone with a snap and approached. “I’ve called the state police. If she’s on the train to Chicago with some man, they’ll find them. I’ll leave two men to continue the search here too, in case this was meant to throw us off.”

Bud got Reiner’s meaning, and apparently Scarlet did too. “Brodie did not do this to get attention,” she said firmly. “If she sent that text, she thinks the man she is with is her father.”

“Oh, she sent it. It’s from her phone.”

“Anyone who has a person’s phone can send a message,” Bud argued. “It doesn’t have to be Brodie who did it.”

“That might be true, but she has kind of a reputation, doesn’t she.” It was not a question, and Reiner didn’t wait for an answer. “From the time she came here, she’s played tricks on people. If I remember right, Bud, you didn’t find them very amusing when we were in school.”

“She’s outgrown that.” Bud hoped it was true.

“What was it, two years ago that she drove her aunt’s car into the woods and left it? We spent quite a while thinking it was stolen. That wasn’t funny.”

“That was before Scarlet came. Brodie’s been a different kid the last few months.”

Reiner’s lips pulled inward as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he turned away.

Half an hour later, one of the deputies reported finding a spot where someone had pulled a car off the road. Reiner was enthusiastic. “See? She planned to meet the guy out here. He waited in the car, and she went to him.”

“Why bring us along if she was planning to run away?”

Reiner considered. “You have a set schedule for lessons?”

“Usually,” Scarlet admitted. “Nine to noon for classroom studies, and then something educational but not necessarily book-related in the afternoon.”

“Who decided you’d come out here today?”

Scarlet hesitated before answering. “We’ve talked about doing it for some time, but it was Brodie who first suggested it be today.” She raised her voice in unconscious defense of her pupil. “She needed to get her mind off what’s happened.”

“And who suggested that Bud should come along?”

Scarlet glanced at Bud. “Well, Brodie did. But he needed to get away too.”

“And having him here kept you occupied so she could get a head start.”

Reiner’s inference was obvious, and Bud could not meet Scarlet’s eyes. How long had they ignored Brodie while they talked about themselves? He joined the argument, knowing it was useless. “Shouldn’t the dog have been able to follow her scent to where the car was parked?”

Reiner sniffed. “Scent dogs aren’t perfect.”

The dog handler, who had come up beside them, rose to the defense of his animal, which sat down beside him, panting but alert and willing to obey a new search command. “Someone could have stopped in that spot to look at deer or take pictures. We don’t know the girl left in that car.”

Reiner turned on him, probably venting anger he wished he could direct at Bud. “How else did somebody get her away, carry her on his back?” Reiner turned to Bud again. “The state police are putting out an Amber Alert. They’ll watch the train stations between here and Chicago. We’ll get her back.” He added, “It’ll be up to you what to do with her then.”

S
EAMUS
HAD
NO
IDEA
where Mildred was or what sort of trouble her host was in. It was exactly the sort of situation he’d feared, one where he had no control. Ruefully, he admitted that he had no control of Mildred from the start. If the abductor killed the girl, would Mildred realize his intention in time and jump to another host? If she did not, if Brodie died, Mildred would become a lost soul. Being her mentor, Seamus knew it was his responsibility to see that it did not happen.

As Bud watched Reiner walk away, Seamus called out a single word, hoping Mildred would obey. “Ship!”

It was all he dared do. He tried to tell himself that Mildred had insisted on having her own way, despite his advice. If she was wise, she’d go back to the ship, realizing there was no more she could do for Brodie.

He tried to look on the bright side. William Dunbar could rest easily: his grandson had definitely not pushed him. Seamus had begun to suspect, however, that someone else had.

T
HROUGH
ONE
OF
THE
BOAT
’
S
tiny windows, Brodie saw Cher and the bird watcher leave the boathouse. A few minutes later she felt the boat rock, heard the crack of branches and the swish of leaves through water. It became lighter outside. When the two returned, wet to their waists, she guessed that they had cleared the channel of their makeshift screen. They were indeed getting ready to go somewhere.

What about the man’s assurance that she could go home? If he meant it, they did not need to go by water. It was less than a quarter mile down the beach to her house.

The sound of something brushing across the bow was next, and she saw the bird watcher gather up the tarp and roll it tightly, fastening it with an elastic cord before disappearing. When she heard a bin lid bang, she guessed he had stowed the tarp.

Now the two adults moved from one end of the boat to the other, checking the engine, the gas tank, and the sails. They secured some things on deck and stowed others in bins. Brodie peered out the small, round portholes on either side of the cabin, straining to see as much as she could. Two pairs of legs, one hairy, one elephantine, went back and forth, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, as they lugged heavy items.

Something was about to happen, and she didn’t think she was going to like it. Once again, she looked around the cabin for a means of escape. Among the things the man had set on the table while undressing was a roll of duct tape, some change, and the tape recorder he’d carried when she first saw him. She picked it up, wondering what its purpose was, since he was not really a bird watcher. Turning the volume dial to low, Brodie pushed
PLAY
and held the recorder to her ear. She heard an animal, whimpering again and again—the sound that had drawn her into the woods.

This was another indication that her kidnapper had thought the whole thing out ahead of time. Apparently he had told Cher his plan to capture Brodie. She had not approved, so he had proceeded anyway. Might Cher be willing to help Brodie escape? It was an idea worth pursuing.

Peering out the window again, she saw the bird watcher go by with one of several gas cans he had lined up on deck. When he came into view again, the can seemed lighter. He was filling the boat motor cans, she deduced. He handed Cher the empty one, and she disappeared around the entrance of the boathouse. In a few minutes she returned without it. Finished with that task, they each picked up two bulging trash bags that sat along the wall of the boathouse and disappeared again. The bird watcher stopped to pick up a small spade as he passed. She realized they were going to bury their garbage in the woods, to hide the fact that they had ever been here.

It seemed to Brodie that her captors were preparing for an extended trip. The boat was well-stocked and the gas tank was full. There would be no need to stop for some time. The empty gas cans and the bags of garbage indicated that the trip was half complete. They had come from somewhere in secret and planned to return the same way.

The bird watcher’s promise that she could go home was a lie.

Brodie searched the cabin again, looking for something she could leave behind as a clue that she had been in the boathouse. She found nothing. She thought of leaving the uneaten sandwich, but some animal would undoubtedly carry it off long before anyone found it. Nothing else was unusual enough to signify her presence. Still fearful of the bird watcher’s motives, she was not about to voluntarily give up one of the few articles of clothing she wore.

She probably only had a short time until they finished burying their trash. Her eyes darted around the tiny room. What could she leave behind?

The tape recorder! If someone found it, especially Bud or Scarlet, it might explain why she’d left them. Brodie opened the window latch and swore softly. “Shit!” A moment later she amended, “I mean, ‘Shoot!’ Sorry, Gramps.”

The little window was hinged and only opened a few inches. Grasping the tape recorder in one hand, she slid her arm out the opening as far as she could get it. Her position was unwieldy, and she had to twist her neck to see where she was aiming. There was a clump of weeds at the entrance to the boathouse. If she could throw the tape recorder that far, the leaves would cushion the drop, and they might not hear it hit or see it as they passed. Finding it, though, would be a clear sign to Bud that someone had been here recently. It was the best she could do.