About 8:30 p.m.
Shane shook the note as if additional words might fall loose.
After Connie had left in the driving rain for the home of Mr. and Mrs. Muse, Shane and Jeff remained in Bethany’s cottage. There was no point in going anywhere until they had at least a likely direction. And the only thing they had to work with was the note she’d left.
Shane,
Called hurriedly out-of-town to care for my ailing Aunt Lynette’s rubbishitis. Won’t be home for a while.
Bethany
Shane placed the note in front of Jeff and tapped it. “What do you make of this?”
“I’m actually surprised to find a note from the victim for what’s obviously a kidnapping. The kidnapper most likely told Beth to write it. But I can’t figure what he hoped it would accomplish.”
“Any idea what she means by rubbishitis?”
Jeff peered closely. “It’s not a real word. But it if was, it would mean a disease or condition caused by contact with rubbish.”
“What’s that at the bottom corner?” Shane pointed.
“Huh? Oh, just ear-marked.” Jeff folded back the ear. “Hold on! Some letters!”
“Let me see.” Shane squinted. With tiny print, in Bethany’s own hand, it read, Rks.
“Royal Knight Society... Rudyard Kipling Scones... Red Knickers Sorority...”
Shane waved him off. “You’re distracting me. Focus on something Bethany would’ve actually left us as a clue. Maybe somebody’s initials.”
“Robert K. Smith...”
“Maybe not initials. Maybe a name.”
“Or part of a name...” Jeff squirmed in his chair.
“R-K-S. Sound it out.”
Jeff started: “Racks. Rooks. Rocks. Rucks...”
“Ricks!” Shane slapped the table. “She’s letting us know who has her.”
“I thought that was a given.”
“Well, it is, actually. But maybe Bethany wasn’t certain we’d know.” Shane slumped to a kitchen chair. “I told her I had a new strategy that might get Ricks out of hiding to look for us, but I thought he’d come after me. I never thought...”
“You couldn’t know what he’d do.”
Shane held his head with damp hands.
“Uh, how bright is this dumpster diver guy?”
Shane showed him the folded snapshot he’d been carrying. “Dumb as a donkey and his brain’s been stir fried on meth for years.” Shane felt a lot of nervous energy and wanted to be out doing something, not sitting and thinking.
“Okay, then let’s assume he was told to make Beth write a note... but our boy Ricks screwed up and the note didn’t turn out like he was instructed.”
“So we just ignore the note?”
Jeff’s brain seemed to be computing a range of possibilities. “Well, one scenario is that Ricks takes Beth to wherever he was told... and the boss asks what they left in the note. What might happen if Ricks didn’t get it right?”
“Hopefully, the boss kills Ricks.”
“Somehow, I don’t think so.” Jeff clearly strained to piece something together, but it obviously wasn’t fully cooked.
Shane jumped back up from the chair. “Okay, I definitely agree Ricks isn’t calling the shots on any of this and you’re probably right that he screwed up at least part of it. But we don’t know which part he bobbled... and still don’t have any idea who hired him.”
“I bet it’s whoever was in L.A. on Friday murdering Miss Lynette’s granddaughter.”
Shane felt like smashing something. “Whoever it is... he sure went to a lot of trouble to get the little overnight case. Or at least what’s inside it.”
“Well, if Ricks’s cognitive abilities are... let me say, impaired... then there’s a good chance he won’t travel too far.”
Shane nodded agreement. “So they’re probably still in town... or not far out.”
“At least still in this county... somewhere.”
“Good, because I plan to bury him alive in the Verde-town quarry after I beat him to a pulp for a few hours.”
Jeff’s mouth fell open. “You have a vivid way of expressing yourself. Can I assume you meant that figuratively?”
Shane did not reply.
“Nothing in the note hints at where she was taken.” Jeff’s forehead wrinkled. “So Beth probably didn’t know herself.”
“Wouldn’t make sense for the kidnapper to tell her.” Shane slumped onto the chair again.
Jeff circled the kitchen table a few times. “So what else do we have to go on?” He stopped pacing and closed his eyes. “The suitcase and everything in it is gone... right?”
“I guess so. I haven’t seen much of it since I’ve been here. Just a few pages of your notes that Bethany showed me.” Shane perked up. “How many pieces did you have?”
“All I took away was the Jones story and the diary. Brought them both back on Saturday... at lunch.”
“So they were separate from the other stuff.” Shane frowned. “Then maybe one or both could still be here someplace.”
“We’ve already been all over this little house.”
“But we were looking for the suitcase. This time, we’ll look for pieces.”
Jeff squeezed his eyelids. “If she was studying either one of them, maybe she was reading in bed.”
Both searched the bedroom. Nothing.
“Where else would she study something?” Shane’s eyes scanned the small interior.
“Maybe the rocker... or that end of the couch near the lamp.” Jeff pointed. “That bookcase is pretty close to both spaces.”
Shane was closest and his heavy hand slapped the volume on top. “The diary! She showed me something in this... the leap year entry.” He was already flipping through it. Then he handed it over. “Don’t have my glasses.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Don’t know. Maybe nothing. But they most likely still want that book, so keep it with you and keep it safe.”
“I think we’re stymied.” Jeff sat heavily on the rocker. “What’s our next move?”
“Call your friend again... the computer wonk. See if he has the location yet.”
Jeff phoned. No answer, so he left a message. While he was doing so, his phone signaled a text coming in.
Shane heard the noise and moved closer.
It was the GPS fix. Jeff showed the screen to Shane, who couldn’t get it into focus.
“It says, 400 Adams Street in Downtown Verdeville.”
“Write it down.” Shane pointed vaguely toward the kitchen counter.
“Don’t need to. I know it.”
“What’s on Adams Street?”
“Same building that also fronts Washington Street... the abandoned Mount Vernon Hotel.” Jeff pointed generally northeast, though it looked like he was guessing.
“Could you hide somebody in there?”
“Heck yeah. That place had probably a hundred rooms, plus all the large spaces for meetings and dining... and dancing. It was quite a hotel in its day, I’m told.”
Shane coughed. “In this little burg?”
“Well, I could fill you in with history of the railroad and the timber business in Greene County when its port on the Cumberland River was still a bustling place... but right now I’m guessing we’d both rather find Beth.”
“You know, you can be pretty cocky for a little guy.”
“Don’t mess with librarians.” As he spoke, Jeff kept his distance.
Shane didn’t reply, but his brain was clicking. “Tell me about this hotel.”
“It’s an entire city block, between Fourth and Fifth streets, surrounded by an iron fence with gates on all four sides. The actual back of the building is on Washington Street, though it was also used as an entrance. The primary entrance was on Adams which becomes a state highway going south and the Quarry Pike heading north.” Jeff took a moment to visualize. “Empty parking lots front and back and small green spaces on each side... though they’re all grown up to miniature jungles these days.”
“Gates are locked?”
Jeff nodded. “Had to because of vandals.”
Shane’s brain calculated assault approaches. “How many stories?”
“Oh, five or six. Not sure. The top floor had suites.”
Finally, it was time to move. “I’m gonna need your car, Jeff.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I know what happens to cars when guys like you borrow them.”
“Another stereotype.” In a different situation, Shane might have grinned. “You watch too many movies.”
“Maybe so. But, besides that, it’s Tanya’s car and she’d murder me.”
Shane gripped the back of a kitchen chair so hard that it looked like the wood might splinter. “Give me the keys and tell me how to get there.”
Jeff shook his head defiantly. “Not gonna happen. Besides, it’d be easier and quicker to just take you.”
Shane released the chair’s back and cursed loudly. “Okay, you drop me off... but I go in alone. I need you at the police station.” He scanned the kitchen for possible weapons. “How far between cops and the hotel?”
“Maybe two miles. They built a new station on the opposite edge of old downtown.”
“Okay. I need you to wake up those local cops and shove them out the door.” From his own experience in the police station earlier today, Shane didn’t have much confidence in their initiative.
“Shane, are you pretty confident this abandoned hotel is actually the right location?”
“The GPS fix says her phone’s there. Can’t think of a better place to start looking. Any second thoughts?”
“No. I’m just... kind of... overwhelmed.” Jeff gulped. “It seems a lot different on TV.”
“Real life is always different.” Shane patted his own belt reflexively. “You don’t have a gun by any chance, do you?”
“Sorry. Tanya doesn’t like guns and I try to keep her happy.”
“I hear you.” Shane looked toward the door to the garage.
“I thought bikers always had thirty pounds of weapons.”
Shane gave him a look. “I’ve heard plenty of black stereotypes, but I don’t believe them.”
“Point taken. But don’t you have fighting stuff on your motorcycle?”
In truth, Shane had a six-foot length of logging chain to protect each of his Harleys from theft. Chains also made very effective weapons. If his revolver and knife hadn’t been impounded with the Road King, he’d have sufficient arms. But he didn’t answer Jeff directly. If Shane had a couple of hours to spare, he’d go to the Mill Street Bar and ask Cratchit where to find a serviceable handgun for cash... quickly. Pawn shops and any retail sporting goods stores would require a five-day waiting period or get bogged down with the supposed instant background check. Besides, the power was out in several areas. In certain parts of Long Beach, he could obtain a gun in about fifteen minutes. But we’re not in California anymore, Toto.
Shane checked his watch: 8:50—time to get moving. When you don’t have what you need... improvise. He surveyed the pitifully few tools in Beth’s garage. He couldn’t find any bolt cutters, so he grabbed a partly rusted hacksaw and the longest pry bar he could find. A good crowbar would have at least two different uses. “What woman has a garage with no knives in it?” Shane realized the answer was most. But he found a plastic handled wood chisel. That would have to do.
“What about the knives in the kitchen?” Jeff, standing close by, had been watching silently. “I saw some in a holder on the counter.”
“Kitchen blades are too thin... snap in your hands. Good for chicken meat but not for fighting.” Shane held up the chisel. “Need something sturdy.”
None of the flashlights he’d found had working batteries. What is it with women and batteries? Nothing else of potential usefulness in the garage. Shane went back inside to the bathroom. Best not to start this evening with a full bladder.
When he re-entered the living room, Jeff held out Shane’s phone. “You got a message.”
Shane grabbed it. “It’s a text.” Jeff huddled closer so he could see, but Shane squinted and read it out loud:
Shane, car brk dwn. meet me @ Mt Vern Hotl
“So she’s okay!” Jeff smiled slightly.
Shane re-scrolled the short message. “That wasn’t Bethany.”
“That’s her number.” Jeff grabbed Shane’s device. “It came from her phone.”
“Yeah... but not her message. She wouldn’t have said car... she would’ve said Shadow. Whoever has Bethany is using her phone.”
Jeff groaned. “Why couldn’t it be straightforward? The kidnapper got scared and left. Her car won’t run and she’s waiting out the storm in the abandoned hotel.”
Shane just stared.
“First she leaves a note telling you she’s out of town. Then she sends a text telling you she’s broke down and asks you to come help. What if, five minutes from now, this bad guy sends you a third message? With a completely different picture of where Beth is.” Jeff pressed a refresh button and stared at the text. “I’m just saying you can’t go off half-cocked at each prompt.”
“They hold all the cards... and know it. Whoever was handling things here, whenever Bethany was taken…wanted us, but especially me, to think out of town and never find her. But whoever’s in charge now obviously wants me there.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why would somebody kidnap Beth and then use her phone to bring reinforcements?”
“Like I said, they want me at the hotel too.”
“So you’re walking into a trap?” More sputter from the anxious librarian.
Shane nodded.
“The criminal invites you over... and you’re still going?”
“Have to. They’ve got Bethany.”
Jeff’s voice lowered and he spoke slowly. “What if she’s already... ?”
Shane interrupted with a firm grip on Jeff’s shoulder. “She’s still alive. I’m positive.”
Jeff mumbled an apology and then shifted gears. “Maybe they think you have what they want... whatever they were trying to get from Beth.”
Shane nodded. “Whatever they’re after is big and they must want me there so they can silence anybody who’s seen it.”
“But everything from that overnighter is already gone... except the diary we just found.”
“The diary...” A grim smile creased Shane’s face. “That’s what they realized they’re missing.”
“But we still don’t know why... or who wants it. Besides, we still don’t know what it is about old Miss Lynette that has these criminals so fixated.”
“And we won’t find out sitting here.” Shane pointed toward the front door. “Let’s roll.”