Jennifer Wilson helped her mother clear the lunch dishes from the dining room table and began loading the dishwasher.
“Jen, I can do this,” Rhonda said. “Why don’t you get off your feet?”
“I’m all right, Mom. It’s the least I can do.”
Jed walked into the kitchen. “I talked Joe and Mary Beth into staying for a while,” he said softly. “I don’t think they should be alone right now.”
“Want me to make coffee?” Jennifer asked.
“That’d be great, honey. Thanks.”
Jennifer heard her mother’s sniffling and wasn’t surprised when Jed took Rhonda in his arms.
“Shhh … God’s still on the throne, babe. We need to be strong.”
“I know. But what do we say to them?”
“It’s tough,” he said, his voice cracking. “I never thought I’d see the day when Bart Thomas was too torn up to give a sermon, but it was great the way Charlie Kirby took over. I guess that’s the way the body of believers is supposed to work.”
“I don’t know if we’re equipped to help Mary Beth and Joe through this.”
“Yes, we are, Rhonda. Who knows them any better than we do? Or cares about them more?”
“But we haven’t been Christians very long. What can we possibly say to them that they don’t already know?”
“Probably nothing. Maybe they just need to be reminded of what they taught us.”
Jennifer turned on the coffeemaker and turned around. “For what it’s worth, you’re both pretty amazing. You might not think so, but I think you’re helping.”
The girls’ singing went on for quite some time, and then seemed to wind down naturally. Darkness once again enveloped the basement.
Sherry turned on the flashlight and pointed it at Jack. She took a deep breath and squeezed Taylor’s hand harder than she meant to. “This is a test,” she said.
Jack once again lunged snarling at the gate.
Sherry didn’t move. After he quieted down, she sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, Taylor next to her. Sherry took her index finger and slowly formed the letter A on the cement floor, followed by W, E, S, O, M, and E.
Could she explain what had happened? Or comprehend this joy that made no sense? The sound of her stomach growling brought a smile. For once, her heart was fuller than her stomach was empty.
She looked at Taylor, reliving those moments when the mysterious light seemed to absorb the darkness as they sang. But fear had already chased the wonder from Taylor’s face, and Sherry knew that not worrying about Wayne’s threat would be an ongoing struggle.
Marita sat and stared out the window of the library as G. R. paced. He’d been ranting for thirty minutes.
“Whoever’s doing this is going to get his! He’ll never get away with it! He’s going to pay!”
“G. R., stop it!” Marita stood up. “I’m not interested in the kidnapper paying. I want our daughter back alive. And unless you can do something about that, I don’t want to hear anymore!”
“Then leave, and take your whining with you!”
Marita left the room, and her heart sank when she heard him lock the door. She walked into the kitchen where Randy sat, his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands. She sat down next to him.
Neither said anything for a few minutes.
“Hard telling who Dad made angry enough to do this,” Randy said. “Poor Taylor. I feel so helpless, Mom. I wish I could do something. Anything.”
“Think positively,” she said.
“What good will that do?”
“It can’t hurt.”
“Mom, it’s going to take a lot more than positive thinking to get Taylor home.”
“Then pray, Randy. We can’t do this by ourselves.”
Marita choked back the tears. She had never felt so alone in her life.
Joe Kennsington woke to the sound of the phone ringing and remembered he was still at Jed and Rhonda’s.
“Excuse me, Joe?” Jed said softly. “Chief Cameron is on the phone.” He handed Joe the cordless phone.
Joe cleared the cobwebs from his head and cleared his throat. “Hello, this is Joe.”
“This is Aaron Cameron. I’m sitting in my squad car outside your house. I hate to add to your burden, but the place is covered up with media.”
“Already?”
“Looks like KJNX didn’t waste any time, but they aren’t the only ones. There are stations here I’ve never heard of. It’s so congested, it’s hard to get down the street.”
“That bad?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Joe rubbed his eyes and looked over at Mary Beth. “One thing my family doesn’t need right now.”
“Never holds back the media, Joe. They have some strange notion we have this ‘right to know’ anything and everything. It’s a big pain, I can tell you that.”
“What do you suggest?”
“How about if I come get you when you’re ready and escort you home?”
The phone rang at the Joneses. Ellen picked it up at the same time Guy picked up the extension.
“Hello,” they said in unison.
“It’s Aaron Cameron. Are you both on the line?”
“Guy, are you still there?” Ellen asked.
“Of course I’m here. I’m supposed to be screening your calls.” He sounded irritated.
“Look outside your front window,” Aaron said. “Tell me what you see.”
Ellen peeked through the plantation shutters. “I don’t see anything unusual.”
“Me either,” Guy said.
“Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t. I just had my officers escort the Kennsingtons into their house. The place is swarming with media. Looks like a carnival over there. Same at the Logans’.”
“Shouldn’t come as a surprise after this morning,” Guy said. “This is huge. Every news team will want part of the action. It’s beyond me how someone could pull a stunt like that without being seen.”
“Well, our attention was diverted,” Aaron said. “We were busy pulling a white BMW out of Heron Lake. But don’t worry. This town’s crawling with FBI and media. The kidnapper’s free publicity days are over … Ellen, how are you holding up?”
“Oh, I—”
“Are you kidding?” Guy said. “She and Margie have been e-mailing and faxing information back and forth all day. I won’t let her leave or she’d be right there in the thick of things.”
“We have the presses running at capacity,” Ellen said. “Tomorrow’s issue will be a sellout. I should be down there, not sitting here like a prisoner.”
“I don’t want her out of my sight, Aaron. I don’t want this guy getting near her again.”
“He’s liable to try,” Aaron said. “The headlines may be the only way this creep can steal the spotlight now that the town is crawling with law enforcement. Which brings me to the main reason for my phone call. Jordan wants round-the-clock protection for Ellen. I agree with him and won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’m all for it,” Guy said. “But good luck selling it to the lady on the extension. Now that there’s a media blitz, I guarantee you she’ll try to stay a step ahead of it.”
“Hello?” Ellen said. “Would you two stop talking like I’m not on the line?”
“Ellen, you need protection,” Aaron said. “I would suggest it even if Jordan hadn’t.”
“What would be involved?” she asked.
“Jordan would assign you a couple of FBI agents. But the only way it’s going to be effective is if you agree to cooperate completely.”
“I run a newspaper. I refuse to hide.”
“You don’t have to hide, just stand under the FBI’s umbrella … Did I hear a yes?”
She sighed. “All right. But only if I can keep working.”
“Great,” Aaron said. “I’ll tell Jordan. And both of you … keep your eyes and ears open.”
Wayne sat in his pickup, observing the scene at the water tower. How many cars and trucks and vans were in the area? This was better than he ever imagined.
He got out of his truck, walked to where the crowd had gathered, and wandered around, listening.
“Hey, Wayne, wait up!” Mark Steele worked his way through the crowd and walked over next to him. “I guess curiosity finally got to you.”
“Kind of hard to drive by all this without taking a look. Quite a spectacle, eh?”
“Did you see the orange banner before they took it down? That thing was huge.”
“Yeah, I saw it.”
“I think it’s a bluff,” Mark said.
“What makes you say that?”
“Who announces it to the whole world before they kill someone? Usually it’s after the fact these people take credit for it.”
“Like you have experience with these people?” Wayne laughed and punched Mark on the arm. “You sound like Mort.”
“Thanks, Wayne. I could’ve gone the rest of my life without that crack.”
“Oh, lighten up. You know I’m kidding. What’ve you heard?”
Mark shrugged. “The FBI won’t say anything. But the cops think there’ll be clues when the evidence is analyzed—according to what George Gentry told Reggie Mason, anyway.”
“Hard to say. I know one thing—I sure wouldn’t want to be in G. R. Logan’s shoes. It must be tough, knowing someone’s threatening to kill his daughter and someone else’s out of spite. Just look at the media down here! They’ll be talking about this all over the country. What’s your spin?”
“Seems pretty clear,” Wayne said. “Someone’s going to get even with Logan by killing his daughter. The only mystery is, who?”
“The FBI’ll figure it out.” Mark looked out into the crowd. “But probably not in time.”