Walker Hanson paced back and forth waiting to hear something – anything – from the FBI. He was growing extremely impatient and angrier by the minute. It had been thirty minutes since his phone call to Doubleday and he still hadn’t shown up.
“This is insane!” he said to no one in particular.
Diana was in the other room, trying to get the kids settled while he stayed behind, wondering what to do next. This whole thing was getting worse. The FBI wasn’t helping – they hadn’t even been able to produce any hard evidence. He was about ready to form a posse and go out and look for Taylor himself.
Vigilante justice – those were the good ol’ days.
No FBI, no police – just a bunch of angry men with guns.
You’re losing it, Walker. Get a grip on yourself!
He heard a knock at the door. “Finally!” he said, making a mad dash. He opened it. “Oh, Chris.” It was Chris Sabec, the boy’s manager.
“Good morning to you too,” Chris said. “What’s up?”
“Sorry, Chris, I thought you might be the FBI.”
“No, I’m not the FBI. Have they found anything new?”
“The Keystone Cops? Heck no. They’re following a couple of leads right now but nothing is panning out.”
Chris sighed as he sat down on the bed. “I know you’re not going to want to hear this right now, but he have to do something about the press. The fans have a right to know.”
“The fans have a right to know what, Chris? That my life is falling apart? That my child is missing and I might never see him again? This is my family – my life! Not theirs. Besides, they already know. Haven’t you seen the paper?”
Chris frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
Walker handed Chris the paper. “Have a look for yourself.”
Chris quickly scanned the article and dropped the paper to the bed. “Great,” he said. “They’ve already beat us to it. But all the more reason for you to make a statement. This article is sketchy at best, Walker. They need to know the facts.”
“Forget it, Chris. I’m not doing a press conference.”
“But Walker –“
“I’m not exploiting this thing for publicity, Chris.”
“Who’s talking publicity, Walker? It might just help find Taylor. You’re going to have to announce the cancellation of the concert anyway. I mean just in case they don’t find –“
“They’re going to find him! I’ll find him myself if I have to.”
Chris sighed. “You’re right, Walker. I’m sorry. But listen to me – the press conference IS a good idea. I’ll prepare a statement for you to read and you can make it. Five minutes. That’s all it will take.”
Walker slammed his hand against the wall. “Okay, Chris, you win. I’ll do it. But I write the statement myself.”
“Fine.”
Another knock was heard at the door. Walker answered it. “Ah, Doubleday, thank goodness.”
“Hello, Mr. Hanson.”
“Inspector, I’d like you to meet Christopher Sabec. Chris is with Triune Management, the boy’s manager.”
The two shook hands.
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Sabec,” Doubleday said. He then got straight down to business. “Mr. Hanson, first of all, we found the source of the information leak. It seems a reporter with the Herald overheard Zac and your friend Noah talking in the dining room last night. That’s how the story got out. It wasn’t us. We’ve done everything we can short of turning the hoses on the crowds down there. It looks like they’re here to stay.”
“Yeah,” Walker replied. “We were just talking about that. What else have you found out.”
“Well,” Doubleday began, “your friend Jason Browning is being released this morning. We’re satisfied that he’s not involved.”
“I could have told you that yesterday. How convenient you decide this AFTER his name has appeared in the paper in connection with this whole fiasco. What’s the matter with you people here in Georgia? Didn’t you learn anything from Richard Jewell?”
Doubleday decided to ignore that comment. “We’ve also got a list of white vans registered in Douglas County.” He pulled a small stack of pages from a manila folder. “This is still a longshot because the van could be registered anywhere. But take a look at the list and see if any of the names ring a bell.”
Walker accepted the papers and glanced through them. “There must be a hundred names here.”
“One hundred and fifty names, actually,” Doubleday responded.
“What’s this?” Walker asked, pointing to a name.
Doubleday frowned as he saw which name Walker was talking about. “Oh, that’s the proverbial monkey wrench in the works. Apex Construction is one of Manchester’s largest independent contracting companies. They have a fleet of fifty vans – all white. They’re all registered under the Apex name. We’re trying to get them to release a list of who each van is assigned to. That’s gonna take some time, though.”
“Everything takes time with you people. That’s time my boy doesn’t have, Inspector. You people really are a piece of work you know that? Just get out of my face until you can tell me something concrete.”
Walker rushed Doubleday out the door and slammed it in his face. He looked back at Chris and flopped back down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. For the first time since he’d heard the news about Taylor’s disappearance, he wept. The time for being the strong for the sake of the family was over. Now, it was Walker Hanson’s turn to mourn.
Noah pulled his Toyota into the driveway of Abraham Lake’s small, one-story home. The Lakes lived off Old Alabama Road, a quarter of a mile from Maxham Road, which was the lower class section of Carver Heights. It was actually only a mile or so from Noah’s apartment.
Jesse’s jeep was parked in the driveway next to a white van with Apex Construction painted on its side in big, red letters. Noah had seen the van parked there a thousand times and never bothered with what was written on its side – today was no different.
He was taking Zac and Isaac back to the hotel and decided to stop by and check on Jesse. He was still very concerned with his friend’s strange phone call from the night before. None of it really made sense. Not that anything in the last twenty-four hours had.
Noah put the car in park and shut off the ignition. “Guys, you want to come in? I’m only going to be a minute.”
“Sure, why not,” Isaac said.
They climbed out of the car and made their way to the front porch. Noah opened the screen and rapped on the front door. He waited for someone to answer but they never did. He rapped again.
“This is odd,” Noah said. “Both their trucks are here.” He walked over the front window, put his hands to his eyes, and tried to peer inside. The curtains were drawn tight. He walked back over to the door and knocked again. “Jesse? It’s Noah, man, open up. Mr. Lake?”
He looked at his watch – 10:15. It was long past time for the two of them to be up and about. He knocked one last time.
“Maybe we could break the door down,” Zac offered.
Isaac rolled his eyes just as his pager began to sound. “You’ve been watching COPS again, haven’t you?” He took the pager from his jeans pocket and looked at the number. “It’s Dad. You got a car phone, Noah?”
“Sure, Isaac,” he said, momentarily forgetting the problem at hand. They walked back to the car and climbed inside, never knowing that right below their feet, Taylor Hanson sat in the darkness waiting to be rescued.
“Hold it there, little lady,”
Tracy Barnes had just made it to the fifteenth floor. She’d thought she was in the clear until being stopped by the Men in Black. She could tell they were rather apprehensive about her appearance, so she put on her nicest smile and tried to act cordial.
“Hi, there!” she said. “I need to see Isaac Hanson, please.”
The guy on the left grinned. “Yeah, you and the mob in the lobby. Sorry. Our orders are not to let anyone in here.”
“But I’m friend of Isaac’s, he won’t mind.”
It was the guy on the right’s turn to answer now. It figured. They probably shared a brain so only one of them could talk at a time. “Well, I’m sorry, young lady, but we have our orders and they don’t involve you. Besides, aren’t you in the wrong hotel? Marilyn Manson is staying at the Waldorf. How did you get up here anyway?
She smirked. “Isn’t that obvious? I got on my broom and flew.”
“Alright, Miss Thing, just go back to the elevator like a nice little girl and we’ll forget this ever happened.” He approached her and tried to grab her arm.
“Get off me, you big jerk!” She pulled away from him. “Could you please just tell Isaac that Liz is here to see him?”
“Look, Morticia, Isaac Hanson isn’t here, he and that little one – what’s his name – uh, Zac, left with a friend of the family last night. Please go back downstairs and wait with the rest of the groupies.”
Liz gave in. She was in no mood for a fight – she simply didn’t have the energy. She made her way back to the elevator, plotting her next move.
“Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys –“
Zac had been singing the theme song to COPS since they’d gotten on the interstate.
“Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna –“
“Shut up!” Isaac and Noah yelled at the same time.
Zac stopped and looked at the both of them from the backseat. In a goofy voice he added, “Cops is filmed on location with the men and women of law enforcement. All suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.”
“Is he always like this?” Noah asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Isaac replied.
“You know,” Zac began, “the great artists are never appreciated until they’re dead.”
Noah smiled. “Don’t give us any ideas.”
“You guys are no fun.” Zac grabbed the emergency/first aid kit from the floorboard and opened it. “Roadside flare, anyone?”
“No more caffeine for him, Isaac,” Noah said. “Now where did your Dad say we should park?”
“He said to take the rear entrance. Security is keeping the fans and the press away from the loading docks.”
“What time is the press conference?”
“It’s scheduled for two o’clock. Man, Dad must be furious. He hates those things.”
“Yeah,” Noah replied. “So do I.”
“You know, Noah, we really appreciate you not doing that story. That means a lot to us.”
“Well, you guys mean a lot to me too.”
“But you lost your job.”
Noah smiled. “It’s a small price to pay for friendship. Besides, I’m sure another paper needs someone to write obituaries. I think I’m in the clear.”
Isaac laughed. Noah looked in the rearview mirror for Zac – he’d disappeared from view, and gotten very quiet. “You okay back there, Zac?”
Zac’s head suddenly popped into the mirror’s sight. “Boo!” he yelled. He’d taken the roll of gauze and wrapped it around his head, making him look like a mummy.
The shout startled Noah and he swerved. The driver in the lane next to him honked his horn. Zac fell to the floorboard with a thud, not anticipating the car’s movement. “Watch it!” Zac said. “You made me drop the bee-sting kit!”
Isaac turned around. “You little fungus! Are you trying to get us killed?”
“Guys?” Zac said.
“Yeah, Zac?”
“I, uh – I can’t breathe.”
Isaac rolled his eyes. “You should have thought of that before you decided to mummify yourself.”
“Whoa, cool!” Zac suddenly said.
“What?” Isaac asked.
Zac righted himself, the gauze hanging from his head like some kind of bizarre wedding veil. He held up a gun. “Wow, Noah! Is this yours?”
Noah turned. “Oh my gosh! Zac, put that away!”
“Put it down, Zac!” Isaac yelled.
“Okay, okay,” Zac said, sticking the gun back under the seat. “Cool your jets!”
Noah sighed. “I didn’t know I’d left that in the car. I had it because I was doing a story over on Manchester’s East Side – a pretty rough part of town. I thought I’d taken it back in the apartment.”
“Noah,” Isaac began. “Is that the same gun you – “
“Yeah,” Noah said, not letting him finish. “It is.”
Isaac nodded. The three of them rode the rest of the way in silence while Zac tried to get everyone’s attention by holding up the “Please Call Police” sign to the passing motorists.
Elizabeth Tracy Barlows Barnes resumed her position on the third floor landing of the stairwell. This is where she and Isaac had first met. She knew it was silly to think that just by sitting here again would bring Ike back to her, but she was a romantic. The goons upstairs weren’t going to let her get through and she was fresh out of ideas on how to fool them.
She wanted to come clean with Isaac, to tell him the truth, even if it meant that he’d hate her. The truth, however, was something that she’d not told in awhile. She wasn’t sure if she could remember it all. But if anyone was worth facing the truth, it was Isaac Hanson.
For crying out loud, Tracy!
He was a boy on an album cover; an unreachable, untouchable celebrity that would never be capable of loving someone like her. She didn’t deserve love. She pulled her out Hanson CD and looked once again at the torn album insert. There he sat on the grass, with his two brothers, staring into her eyes. She longed for his touch – to smell his cologne like she had last night. She longed to be with him, if only for a moment. She clutched the battered CD case to her chest and cried.
Abraham Lake nervously pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and popped it’s top. He was hoping it would calm his nerves – something needed to. Ever since he’d seen Jesse’s friend poking around outside with those other two Hanson brothers, he’d been extremely jumpy. At any moment he expected the cops to break his door down and take him away.
This has gotten out of hand.
He’d never meant for any of this to happen. It had all made so much sense at the time he’d done it, but now he realized there was no way out of it for him. They would find him no matter what he did. No amount of money could change it, no fancy talk could get him out of it. He was stuck.
He hadn’t planned this thing through. He had acted completely on impulse when he’d taken the Hanson kid. To his drunken, rage-filled mind it had all made perfect sense. But now that he was knee-deep in the muck, he couldn’t figure out how to get himself out of it. Jesse just made things all the more complicated. Two kids – two kids that he’d nearly beaten to death – were now locked in his basement.
He made his way back to the couch and plopped himself down. Raising the beer can to his lips, he downed half it’s contents in one gulp. His eye caught a glimpse of something on the floor. He reached down and picked up the picture of his late wife, Karen. It had fallen to the floor during his fight with Jesse; the glass was shattered. Abraham gingerly pulled the photo from the remains of the frame and stared at it.
“I’m sorry, Karen. I am so, so sorry.” He pulled the picture to his heart and wept.
In some strange, bizarre way, he’d done it all for her. Abraham honestly believed in his heart that Walker Hanson was responsible for the mess that had been made of his life. And that meant he had to pay.
It was only fair that Walker Hanson suffer like he had. It was only right that someone he loved and cherished be taken from him. Let him feel the pain of being reduced to a drunken, desperate, old man brimming with rancor and nothing to offer his family but anger and rage.
An eye for an eye.
Isn’t that what the Bible said? He thought he remembered that from growing up as a preacher’s son. All those summertime revival meetings he’d sat through had actually taught him something. He smiled.
I’ll get back at him. I’ll get back at him in spades!
“But dammit, I need a plan.”
He was still screwed. Giving Taylor back was NOT an option. That was too easy – the way of the coward. He’d be admitting defeat that way. Another choice was to run far away; leave the sniveling brat down in the basement to die. But again, he’d be running. If he was going to take this big of a risk then he had to make worth his while. He smiled again.
Abraham downed the last of his beer and stood from the couch. The hall closet on the top shelf is where Karen had made him keep the gun. They scared her and she couldn’t stand the thought of one being in the house, so they’d compromised. It was stored, loaded, unknown to Karen, in a small, black case. Abraham stepped through the aftermath of the fight and made his way to the closet.
He opened the door and grabbed the case from the shelf. He clicked the locks into the open position and lifted the lid. The cold steel stared back at him menacingly. It was a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum that had belonged to his Father. He remembered how it use to frighten him until he’d learned how respect and take care of it.
Abraham had never seen the irony until now of his father being a country preacher and owning a piece like that. His father always said that you could never be too careful. That’s why he’d kept the gun and what he said about owning one. His father had taught him how to load and unload it, clean it, and use it. Gun safety had been drilled into him by the time he was in high school.
Abraham gently lifted the gun from its berth and opened the cylinder – six bullets stared back at him, waiting to be fired. He smiled again as he looked toward the basement door. He was about to raise the stakes.
A security team was waiting at the loading dock when Noah, Ike, and Zac arrived back at the hotel. They’d done a good job of keeping the reporters and the fans away. The three of them were escorted quickly into the stairwell. The sea of people was beginning to get to the claustrophobic Noah. “How do you guys deal with this?”
They were being taken to the third floor, where they would catch the freight elevator up to the fifteenth. As they approached the third floor landing, they ran into an argument.
“Let go of me, jerk!”
One of the security men was trying to escort a young girl away but was being beaten in the process. When he noticed his colleagues snickering at him, he blushed. “Please,” he said in a frustrated tone. “If you’ll just come with –“
“I’m not going anywhere. You people have chased me out of every part of this hotel and I’m staying put!”
Isaac, having immediately recognized the voice, pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Let her go,” he said.
Her face lit up when she saw him. She smiled brightly. “Isaac!” She pulled away from the stunned security guard, who was actually happier to see Isaac than she was, only for different reasons. “I told you we knew each other.”
Isaac reached out and took Tracy by the hand. “Hi, Liz,” he said.
“Hey!” she responded with a grin that soon faded as she glanced behind Ike. Zac and another young man had emerged from the crowd. The guy standing beside Zac Hanson was her brother Noah. She gasped. “Oh, my gosh. Noah.”
He was just as surprised to see her. He was quiet for a moment but soon found his tongue. “What the hell are you doing here, Tracy?”
Isaac let go of her hand and took a step backward. “Tracy?”
All eyes were on her now. She wished she could melt into the floor and disappear forever. She had planned on telling Isaac the truth, but now it was going to be a lot more difficult.
At eleven AM sharp, Abraham Lake pulled up to the RegionsBank on Thornton Road. After racking his brain, he’d finally come up with a plan – albeit a risky one – on how to get himself out of this. He stepped out of Jesse’s jeep and prepared to make the largest withdrawal of his life.
He would be withdrawing his entire savings account – five thousand dollars. With that money he’d buy a one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands. Once he arrived, he’d figure out how to spend the million more he planned to extort from Walker Hanson. He would spend the rest of his days in the tropical sun, creating a new life. Yes, it was crazy. Yes, it was risky, but it was the only plan he had.
No one noticed anything peculiar about Abraham as he entered the bank and made his way up to the counter. He’d cleaned himself up and made a feeble attempt at getting sober, but only part of the plan had worked. It would have to do. He stepped up to an office to his right and lightly rapped on the door. The women behind the desk – an attractive brunette in her mid-thirties – offered a worn but heartfelt smile.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, you sure can.” He wondered if his voice sounded okay. Deciding that it did, he continued. “I’d like to close out my savings account, please.”
She motioned for him sit down. “Well, we hate to lose your business, but I’ll be glad to help you with that.”
“Well, you see,” he began, “my company is transferring me overseas and I’ll be moving soon.”
Fifteen minutes later, he walked out of the bank with the cash. His next stop was the Delta Airlines ticket outlet on Fulton Industrial Boulevard.
“What the hell were you thinking Tracy?” Noah screamed. They had excused themselves to the Hanson adjoining hotel room so they could speak privately.
“What was I thinking?” Tracy screamed back. “I was just trying to be happy for once in my life.”
“Millions of other girls want to be with Hanson. But they don’t run away -- they don’t put themselves at risk.”
“You make it sound so wrong. It’s not like I threw myself at him.”
“They’re my friends, Tracy. And you lied to him.”
She was crying now. “Because --” her voice trailed off. “Because I didn’t want him to hate me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want him to hate me like you do.”
Noah stopped. The sight of his baby sister in tears softened his anger a bit, but not much. “I have good reason to hate you!”
She looked into her eyes. Her upper lip trembled. “I --”
“Save it Tracy!” Noah responded. “You left me there to die.”
“Fine!” she screamed. “I was wrong! Do you think a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about you lying there on the floor? I should have died a long time ago. I should have ended up like you said -- dead in a ditch somewhere.” She paused. “But I’m already dead to you, aren’t I?”
Noah stopped, his silence answering her question. “Mom’s worried sick about you, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” she whispered.
He snickered. “You always did think about yourself.”
“How can you say that?” she screamed. “How the hell can you say that after all --”
“After all what, Tracy? You destroyed yourself, you destroyed our family, and you almost destroyed me. All because of what YOU wanted. Don’t you see how selfish that is?”
She looked at him, her tears forgotten; the sadness replaced with intense hatred.
“Just --” She breathed deeply. “Forget it,” she snapped. “ I can’t even talk to you! Besides, how could you understand my pain?”
Noah jerked up his T-shirt, exposing the long scar on his right side. “I can’t forget it, dammit! I can’t forget. And there are other people in the world with pain. I don’t see them in rehab, I don’t see them pushing knives into people.”
Tracy stared at her hands and then at the scar. The world was red; red like the blood that had soaked into her clothes -- Noah’s blood. Her mouth moved but no words came out. Stumbling backwards, she leaned against the wall and crumpled into the corner.
“The wounded animal routine isn’t going to work. I’ve had it with you.”
She didn’t say anything, just looked at him, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would denounce her forever, push her out of his life.
He took a deep breath. “It killed Dad to commit you to the treatment center,” he whispered. “Killed him months before he died. Jennifer’s embarrassed; Mom’s heart is broken.”
“Why can’t you all forgive me?” she whispered. Getting up silently, she looked him in the eye. She wasn’t waiting for answer -- she already knew.
“You think it’s easy to forgive?”
“NO!” she exploded. “I know it’s hard, but I’m your sister! You’re crazy, mixed-up sister.”
Noah looked off to her side. “You have no idea how hard it is. I loved you once, but now I just don’t know.”
“You loved me?” her voice was barely audible.
“Hell, yes, Tracy. I love you more than I loved myself.” He smiled. “We were buds, remember.”
“You always were the favorite, Noah.” Her voice was filled with mixed emotions. “No one cared about me except you.” Her voice sounded so simple. “But --”
Noah laughed uncomfortably. “What happened to us, Tracy?”
“Drugs,” she stated. “I ruined everything. Everyone hates me!”
Noah not knowing what else to do, placed his hand on Tracy’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Tracy. I just can’t help but wonder if I I’d done something more -- if I’d just been there for you.”
“It’s not your fault, either.”
“I --”
Tracy looked into his eyes. Her instincts took over. She wrapped her arms around him.
“I love you, Tracy.”
“I love you too, Noah,” Tracy sobbed. “I love you more than anything..”
He squeezed her tight. They cried together, letting out all their anger sadness.
“Welcome back, Sis.”
“It’s good to be home.”
Noah began to laugh -- he couldn’t help it. A hearty, roaring laughter bellowed up from inside him. “Oh, hell,” he said.
“What?” Tracy pulled away, her eyes mirroring her insecurity.
“Both my sisters in love with Isaac Hanson. Oh, man!”
She scowled. “I am not in love with Isaac Hanson!” Tracy laughed. “Jen likes Isaac?”
Noah snickered. “You’ve got it bad, Trace. And so does Jen.”
Tracy thought about that. “Ummm, so...who does Isaac like?”
Noah rolled his eyes. He was about to answer when they heard a knock at the door. It was Isaac. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Tracy looked at Noah like he was insane. “Uhh, hi, Isaac.”
Noah smiled at Ike and gave Tracy another quick squeeze. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Abraham Lake pulled up to the Arby’s on Bankhead Highway and selected a parking spot next to the payphone. It was time to call Walker Hanson and make his demands. He’d just come from the Delta ticket office where he had purchased his plane ticket. It would all soon be over. Once he had his million dollars, he could move on with his life.
He’d come up with all the answers. He’d solved his problem in a short amount of time. He was proud of himself. Abraham laughed.
I may have pulled this thing off after all.
He’d crossed the line now, a line he’d been walking over the last five years; the line of sanity. He was all gone. The man that was Abraham Lake had long since made his exit. What remained was a crazy, spiteful man; a man with no remorse and no conscience.
I’ll show them! I’ll show them all!
After he’d collected his money, he’d go straight to the airport. He’d leave that rotten, stinking Taylor Hanson down there to die. That would teach the world to screw with Abraham Lake. That would show them that he was not a man to be reckoned with. He smiled at his cleverness.
Jesse.
He stopped.
Jesse. What about Jesse?
His only son; all he had left of Karen. How could he leave him down there to die as well? How could he do that to his only child?
The little shit shouldn’t have interfered with my business.
Abraham smiled again. Jesse would just have to die down there too. He’d tell anyway. He’d tell and all of Abraham’s hard work would be for nothing.
That ungrateful, little –
“Oh, yes,” he said to himself. “They’ll learn alright. They’ll learn their lesson.”
Chapter Nine
Chapter Seven
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