Deadly Stillwater

Dressed in flip-flops and a ball cap, Dean looked like any of a thousand men on a warm holiday. The only unusual part of his ensemble was a red nylon shoulder bag, out of which he pulled a pair of black leather gloves. Taking a quick glance around, he slid on the gloves and pulled out the portable voice changer and two quarters. He also took out a three-by-five-inch index card. Dropping the quarters into the phone, Dean looked down at the card and dialed.

The conference room was silent, other than the sound of pacing shoes scuffing against the carpet. Burton and Duffy leaned over the phone, both hands on the table. The call would be recorded, and they would trace it, although nobody expected the kidnappers to stay on the line for any appreciable length of time. Everyone’s eyes were on the second hand on the wall clock. When the red hand hit twelve, the phone rang. The chief picked up on the second ring.

“Flanagan.”

“You and Hisle at the corner of Washington and West Fifth in ten minutes. With the ransom. No police. We’ll be watching.”

“What about… the… girls,” the chief’s voice trailed off. The kidnapper had already hung up.

Burton moved immediately. “Let’s hustle,” he said, leading everyone out of the conference room. “We’ll wire these two in the truck.” As the group approached the elevators, Peters pulled Rock and Riley aside.

“This is no good,” Riles said through gritted teeth. “They’re going to wire the chief and Lyman in the truck? This smells. Mac’s right, this isn’t a simple money drop. They’re going to put the chief and Hisle on the move.”

Peters nodded. “I want you two mobile. Keep a perimeter and stay on this radio frequency. We know who’s behind this, so if you see this Brown or the Muellers, move on them,” their captain ordered.

Riles’s cell phone rang.

Heather Foxx noted the three separate convoys of trucks pulling out and immediately recognized what she was seeing. “They’re running different groups out of here so we don’t follow,” she said to her cameraman as the trucks and cars streaked out in different directions. She looked back to the side entrance she’d seen McRyan and his friends use in recent days. Detectives Riley and Rockford burst through the doors and ran down the steps. Heather took a look at the news truck and her rental car. “Jump in the rental car,” she told the cameraman, fishing out the keys.

“We’re supposed to stay here,” the cameraman said.

Foxx’s instincts told her to get on the move. “Trust me. There’s nothing to do here but wait for the police to feed us a statement, and everyone gets the same thing. On the other hand,” the reporter said, gesturing toward the detectives, “Riles and Rockford, those are two of the chief’s boys. If we follow them, we might actually see something worth reporting.”

“Less than ten minutes?” Mac yelled into the phone as he accelerated down the county road to meet up with the Washington County sheriff. “Where?”

“Where?” Lich demanded, doubling up. “Where are they going to?”

Mac put his hand over the phone. “Corner of Washington and West Fifth, that’s the northwest corner of Rice Park,” and then to Riley, “What then?… Nothing? They just wait? You know what they’re going to do? They’re going to run the chief and Lyman around, Riles. They’re going to try and lose you… yeah… sounds like you’re on it? Good. Yeah, I’ll have the phone with me.” Mac hung up. “I knew it,” Mac railed to Lich. “It’s not a simple ransom drop. They’re going to put the chief and Lyman on the run.” He felt no satisfaction at being right.

“FBI will have assets all over the place, Mac,” Lich said. “They’ll be tough to shake. Especially in the middle of downtown.”

“On a normal day, yeah,” Mac replied. “But it’s the Fourth of fuckin’ July, and it’s hotter than hell. Downtown is a graveyard. There’ll be nobody, and I mean nobody, around Rice Park at that time of day. If we’ve got people following closely, they’ll stick out like 50-Cent at a Faith Hill concert.”

“Fine,” Lich replied, “but it’ll also be hard to lose them, with so few people around. There isn’t anyone for them to blend with.”

“Maybe, but they’ve been ready for everything thus far. They’ll be ready for that. Mac sighed. Dick’s point was valid, but he didn’t agree. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him all he needed to know. The whole thing felt wrong. “The chief and Lyman are the real target, the money’s just so they can get away in style.”

The Explorer’s speedometer read eighty-five, and the flasher pushed cars off to the shoulder as Mac burned south on the county road.

“They should be up just around the bend,” Lich said.

As Mac slowed to sixty-five and drove around a small bend in the road, two Washington County Suburbans came into view, waiting on the right shoulder a half mile ahead. Mac pulled in behind them. A paunchy man with a bushy black mustache was already out, walking up to Lich on the passenger side.

“I’m George Head, sheriff out here. The Russell place is up on the left side, another two miles.”