Minot/Velva, North Dakota
She was already terrified from the image of her daughter being kidnapped. When she saw who was holding the gun, Marsha couldn’t breathe. It was the black man with the face mask, the same one she had told Dale about earlier in the week, the same one she had learned was a murderer the night before; he was holding the gun.
“Where’s my daughter?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Home probably,” said the scarred woman, after slamming the door shut.
“Unless she’s in school,” the black man said.
Marsha was sitting between them. She looked from one to the other. “What do you want?”
“Shhhhh,” the man said.
Then a cloth soaked in ether covered her face and everything went dark.
* * * * * * *
Morris couldn’t tell how much time had passed but when he came to again, there was a woman tied up alongside him. He recognized the uniform the woman was wearing but the heroin left him disoriented.
He tried to listen to the conversations up front. His mind couldn’t process the information. He heard the word “helicopter.” He heard the phrase “beauty queen.” He heard the name “Ahearn.” He also heard a few dollar amounts.
Then a blonde woman with scars on her face was in the same room with him and the woman and he could hear clothes tearing.
* * * * * * *
Pavlik was out in the parking lot looking for the RV. When he saw the Winnebago turn south on Broadway, he sprinted to his rental. Driving like a madman through the parking lot and then onto South Broadway, he only slowed down again when he spotted the RV about half a mile ahead.
He had no phone and no way to stop for help without losing Singleton. He maintained a safe distance behind and searched for a police cruiser. He knew most of the police were focused on the fire in the Valley, but hoped he might see a stray cruiser somewhere along the main drag that was Broadway.
Desperate for communication, Pavlik considered pulling to the side of the road to ask for help, but then they were at the highway junction for 52 and he panicked when the Winnebago made the light up ahead. He had hoped it would have to stop. He thought about running the light himself when an eighteen-wheeler blocked his path.
* * * * * * *
Sikes couldn’t believe his ears. He was holding a towel against his shoulder to stop the blood from where he had accidentally stabbed himself. The bitch had thrown perfumed powder in his face and blinded him. Then when he’d tried to cover his face he’d plunged the knife deep into his shoulder. It had been a sharp pain he felt when the blade struck bone.
Now he was still covered with the powder. He sneezed for the fifth time from the fragrance. And there the bitch was, holding a gun with one hand and holding up her cell phone with the other.
“You think I could wash my face?” he asked.
“Think about it,” she said without looking at him.
Sikes turned and tapped the bathroom door with his foot. His sister had locked herself inside.
“You can come out now,” he said.
“No way,” she yelled.
“Great,” Sikes said. “That’s great.”
* * * * * * *
When Don Ekroth regained consciousness, he was tied and gagged on a folding chair in a basement. He could see John Ahearn gathering clothes from the dryer and stashing them inside a suitcase. Ekroth also saw small stacks of cash and what appeared to be a plastic bag filled with white powder.
Ekroth was dizzy. His head throbbed. He closed his eyes to avoid the brightness of a naked bulb hanging from a wire directly overhead. He was jostled by a sudden shove.
“I’m gonna borrow your car,” John Ahearn said. He was standing over Ekroth. He dangled a set of car keys from an index finger.
“My wife and brother-in-law will be here soon enough,” Ahearn continued. “You tell them I said good-bye, okay?”
Ekroth closed his eyes again. He heard Ahearn taking the basement stairs. A few seconds later he heard the front door slam. He tried to relax in the chair, but his head continued to pound.
* * * * * * *
“There he is,” Stewart said.
He was pointing at John Ahearn as the big man crossed the front yard. Ahearn was wearing a heavy coat that was still open. He walked quickly with his head down. He carried a suitcase in each hand.
Lynette stepped out of view. She checked on the two hostages in the rear bedroom and felt a measure of sympathy for the topless beauty queen. She closed the shutter doors, then grabbed the Beretta 9mm from the cabinet above the microwave and stood alongside the side door as the Winnebago slowed to a stop.
Stewart let the passenger window down. “Need a lift?” he said.
Ahearn was about to get inside the station wagon. He turned to Stewart and was surprised. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”
Stewart opened his hands as if presenting a picture. “What do you think?”
Ahearn said, “I didn’t think you were the camping type.”
Stewart heard the side door open. Ahearn was still holding the suitcases. “Hey, Lynette,” Ahearn said.
Stewart reached under the seat for the Glock he had hidden there earlier. He lifted himself off the seat to better see out the passenger side window and was holding the gun in his left hand when he saw Ahearn reacting to Lynette and her gun.
“What’s that for?” the big man said.
Stewart heard the first shot a moment before he saw Ahearn slam into the station wagon’s open door. Ahearn’s neck snapped back from the impact. He started to fall forward when Lynette fired another three shots. The impacts kept him standing a few seconds before his body dropped to the street.
Lynette grabbed both suitcases and was back inside the Winnebago. She hid the Beretta in a compartment in the console as she sat on the front seat. She looked to Stewart and smiled.
Stewart winked at his girlfriend and then pointed to the seatbelt harness.
“Oh,” she said, then buckled in.