For some reason, although I knew he meant well, this talk was not particularly encouraging.
I found Betsy asleep on a kitchen stool at the island, her head cradled on her arms. I stirred her and told her to go find a room in which to sleep, but please check on Auggie first. The doctor was in with her, but I just wanted that reassurance. She returned shortly, reported Auggie had been sedated and yes, the doctor did know about the pregnancy. She fired up the coffee pot, the stove and soon there were platters of cinnamon rolls and muffins handy. She put these on the dining table, now known as Contact Central.
Bill look whipped himself and I suggested he get some rest. “Nope,” he said. “I’ve done 96-hour shifts without shut-eye before and that was for a petty crime. No way I’m letting anybody but me see this one through.”
I was so grateful to have these men on my side. I wondered what Linc was thinking. Surely he didn’t think I was peacefully slumbering and having a lazy breakfast before I went to the office. That reminded me and I asked Bill what to do about the staff at the clinic. He motioned to one of his men who promptly left. “Call down there and tell them my man will relieve the receptionist. Get him a white coat or something to wear. Then send everybody home and lock all the doors but the front one. Put a closed sign in the window and they’re not to let anyone inside. Evacuate the place.”
I nodded and followed through with his instructions. Bill truly was a professional. Jesus Christ! I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before this.
“Bill! I think I have something. After Linc disappeared, we turned my old family farm over to a non-profit for kids with disabilities. They gave them horse rides, etcetera for therapy. Linc wouldn’t know this and he probably figures it’s still in the family and might even have keys. There’s a skeleton staff on duty in the barns, looking after the livestock, but the staff for the non-profit is off over the holidays. What if he’s there? Would he be so stupid?”
Bill looked at me. “He’s exactly that smart. He knows the last place people look is the obvious and he’s got everything he needs there to hide the kid, stay warm and fed and escape in every direction. I’ll bet that’s exactly where he is!”
He sprang into action, alerting his team, including the guys from Chicago. “I’m going there,” he said to me and I grabbed my coat. I begged Betsy to stay upstairs with Auggie but not to let on that we had any clue.
“Make sure the doctor stays with her… just in case,” I managed to get out.
“Worth!” a voice behind me shouted. “I’m going too.” It was Bernie and I nodded.
On the way to the farm, Bill asked for a lay of the land. I told him our best bet was to come in from the rear of the property, around the barns so we could get a good look at the house without him seeing us. If there were tracks of any kind in the snow, we’d know he was inside. No one else would be going near the house. Bill’s men all met us at the appointed spot. Even Brandon showed up, but I asked him to go and be with Auggie. He nodded and disappeared.
The men from Chicago were huge hulks, each wearing bulky woolen coats that indicated they were heavily armed. They stayed to the back. They were content to let us try to get to Ford before they would do what they’d come to do.
Bill’s men, staying out of sight of the house, sneaked up to the barns and then motioned us forward. They had dour looks on their faces and we soon discovered why. Bill opened the access door and then lowered his weapon. The floor was littered with dead. Some of them I recognized; they’d been with my father for years. Others were new hires. I had to fight not to vomit. Bill’s men covered them with horse blankets but we had to leave them be. We couldn’t move them; the police would eventually have to be called. We could no longer keep this quiet.
Using binoculars, we could see there were fresh tire tracks in the drive and footprints leading up toward the front of the house. We didn’t have the vantage to see whether they’d gone in through the front door, or broken a window, but there were definitely tracks.
Ford was too young the last time he’d been in that house. He wouldn’t have any idea where he was and there would be no trace of family portraits or anything familiar to clue him in. For all he knew, it was where Linc lived or just a public building. I hadn’t been inside since the non-profit took over, but assumed it’d been made fairly generic.
The sun was fairly high now so there would be no sneaking up to the building. It was cold and we had to be careful because our breath caused steam to rise above us. It would be seen from a distance.
Bill came up to me. “I want you to call Linc’s phone — you got the number?”
I shook my head. “No, but I have Ford’s.”
“You think he’s got it on him?”
“I think so. I didn’t see it at the house. I tried it earlier, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“Makes sense, he probably turned it off so we couldn’t track it. Let’s try anyway. He might have it on, waiting for a call. It’s worth a shot.”
I was already accessing my phone, but Bill put a hand on my arm.
“If it’s on, my guess is that Linc will answer. You’re to tell him that you know he’s got Ford and that you want to move up the appointment time to — let’s see — eleven this morning. Tell him your staff has gone home and you’ll be waiting for him, alone. Tell him that you know if you get anyone involved, he’ll hurt the boy and you’ll give him whatever he wants for his safe return. We might be able to flush him out of the house and get a shot at him from this distance. Scotty? You ready?”
A man nodded and his sniper rifle came off his shoulder strap. He found a solid footing on a stack of hay bales and slid open the window above it, taking aim at the house.
Bill knew what I was going to ask. “Don’t worry, Worth. He can pick off a fly at ten times that distance. He won’t hurt the boy. Okay, you ready?”
I looked at the thugs, expecting them to step in, wanting Linc for themselves. But they surprised me by backing off. I looked back at Bill and nodded, taking a deep breath. This call would be the most important of my entire life. Everything depended on my staying calm and letting Linc think he held all the cards. I cleared my throat and tapped on Ford’s number in my address book. Bill held a finger up for silence and I put it on speaker.
It rang three times and then clicked. There was no sound. “Linc?” I said, holding my breath.
“Father?” It was Ford’s voice and my knees almost buckled with relief. So far, so good.
“Son, let me speak to the man with the beard.”
“I can’t, Father.” I could picture Linc holding a gun to Ford’s head and my thoughts raced with what to say next. We hadn’t planned this into the scenario discussed.
“Ford, it will be fine, son. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”