CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vandy and Sam were near the end of their rope.  For over forty-five minutes Sam had been explaining the situation to FBI Agent Elijah ‘EJ’ Johnson.  He was getting nowhere.

Vandy’s eyes were red and dry. She had all but cried herself into a state of dehydration.

“And you think she was kidnapped against her will?” Agent Johnson asked.

“For the fifth time, yes,” Sam exclaimed. “Look, we can’t reach her and her mother is worried sick, and all we’re doing is rehashing the same information over and over.”

“That is one crazy story, Mr. Steele.”

“But the timeline fits.”

“Ok,” Johnson said. “Look at this from my point of view, for just a minute. Let me recap. Ms. Vanderbilt said she had a phone conversation with Lindsay ten hours ago. She described the conversation as ‘pleasant and upbeat.’ Lindsay seemed fine at the time. She claimed to be driving home with her boyfriend, Steve, last name, age and address, unknown.”

Sam sighed. He knew where this was headed.

“Her phone was illegally pinged in Minnesota, but even so, you think she was knocking over a drug store with a fifty-year-old man in Sioux City, several hundred miles away?”

“Shoplifting, not ‘knocking it over,’ and yes.  I do.”

“But you don’t really know for sure, now do you?”

Sam shook his head.

“The witness could have been wrong about the age,” Johnson said. “Maybe it was her boyfriend?  The pharmacists said he saw the man from more than thirty feet away.  Maybe he just got the age wrong.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s suppose, for a minute, it was her in the pharmacy. The man with her was considered to be an accomplice, not a captor, right? That would indicate she was there of her own free will. It would mean she was not being kidnapped.”

“She would never shoplift!” Vandy barked. “She had a credit card with a ten-thousand-dollar limit.”

“I’m sure you believe that she would never do that,” Ms. Vanderbilt. “Few people could believe it when Lindsay Lohan and Wynona Rider got caught shoplifting. Even famous people do stupid things. Maybe the boyfriend has a drug habit and they didn’t have a prescription.”

“I just don’t believe it,” Vandy shouted.

“Calm down, Ms. Vanderbilt,” he said. “We’re only trying to get to the truth here.  When was the last time you tried to call her?”

“Have you not been listening?” Sam barked. “The phone went dead in Minnesota.”

“At the same time a sixty-year-old trucker was murdered,” Johnson noted. “By the way, I called that in on the way here. It was a professional hit. The trucker’s name was Avery Adams. Does that name ring a bell to either of you?”

Sam and Vandy both shook their heads, no.

“This Avery Adams had a record—illegal possession of controlled substances.”

“That sounds like he was taking uppers to stay awake on the road.”

“Well, the local police are currently investigating his relationship with a known drug dealer. The guy didn’t have a lot of money. Maybe he met Lindsay and her boyfriend at a truck stop and stole the phone.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “If that happened she would have used her boyfriend’s phone to call us, don’t you think?”

Johnson shrugged, “So, if she was kidnapped, that would have been, what close to twenty-four hours ago, right? The kidnappers would be calling in with a ransom demand. Have you gotten a call like that, Ms. Vanderbilt?”

“No,” Vandy admitted. She had now gone through all her tears. She was past the anger stage. All she felt at the moment was numbness.

Johnson flipped his notebook closed, “Folks, I don’t see compelling evidence of a crime here—not yet anyway.  It’s possible she’s on the road and will be home within the next five to six hours, if they drove straight through.”

“So, you’re going to do nothing?”

He stood, “We’ll stay in touch. My guess is, this is typical sixteen-year-old girl stuff—new boyfriend; cross-country trip; adventure; love… that kind of thing.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Sam scoffed.

“Here’s my card,” he said. “Call us if something new develops.”

Johnson left.

“Do you think he’s right?” Vandy said. “As I heard him play it all out, it sounded like it could be true.”

“My radar says otherwise,” Sam said. “Something’s wrong. I know it. I guess we’ll know for sure in a few hours.  If we wait that long.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What can we do?”

“I’m heading out. I’m going to find Lindsay.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“No. I need you here in case I’m wrong and she comes home.”

“What way do you think she’s coming?”

“Backroads.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I think she has someone helping her get home—someone who knows what he’s doing. And if I’m right, they’re being followed.”

“Sam, you’re scaring me.”

“I hope I’m wrong, but I’m not taking a chance.”

“If you think I’m staying home, you have another thing coming. I’m coming, dammit.”

He looked at Vandy and nodded. He picked up his cell. He dialed Hank.

“Sam?”

“Hank. I need your help.”