Chapter 10
As soon as the plane landed, several of the Team’s cell phones rang. Gretchen’s did as well. Trace noted the number as being the kidnapper when she showed him the dial.
“Let it go to voicemail until we have some privacy,” he told her.
Gretchen agreed and turned off the ring. When she checked back, no voicemail had been left.
Her SUV was parked in long-term parking, and the four SEALs loaded the suitcases. Trace took charge of driving with Gretchen riding shotgun up front. Fredo hadn’t changed his blue Hawaiian shirt, and Trace chuckled.
“What?” Fredo served him a dose of attitude. “I’m still on vacation, dude. Just not in Hawaii.”
“Fredo’s right,” inserted Coop. “You’ll discover soon enough, Gretchen. Hell if I don’t actually get excited now that we’ve got something to do. That beats lying on the beach any day.”
Trace considered Coop’s comments, and he also began to enjoy the pulse of a Brotherhood op coming up. “Sounds like a vacation to me.” But when he glanced at Gretchen, he saw the mistake he’d made. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Armando leaned over the seat as Trace exited the parking lot toward the freeway. “Your dad have any guns, Gretchen? Big guns?”
“My parents were hippies, Armando. Sorry, no guns, but I have a .38”
Trace nodded and gave her a wink. “You know how to use it?”
“I took a class and had some practice. Dad insisted.”
“He sounds like a good man. Every woman should know how to shoot.”
“We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got, then.” Armando sighed and sat back into the second seat behind Trace.
“I’ve got the cell phone data. Registered to a Casa de Flores,” Coop said as he examined a recent text.
“Never heard of it,” said Gretchen.
“My friends can’t find an address with that business listing, either.”
“Oh, one other thing I forgot to tell you.”
Gretchen was holding up well, Trace noted. Her voice had lowered an octave and was no longer shaking.
“We have a locator on Clover’s cell phone. Will that help?” Gretchen frowned.
“You bet. Write her number down,” Coop said as he handed her a small spiral notebook.
Then Trace revealed he’d packed a sidearm.
“We all do, Trace,” answered Fredo. “I never go anywhere, even on vacation, without some protection.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to use them. But at least we have something,” mumbled Armando.
They arrived at Gretchen’s home on a hillside overlooking the panoramic waterway valley. The districts below were covered in row housing and meandering streets, bordering the Columbia River beyond. Rain threatened, and the late afternoon was quickly evaporating.
They parked around the rear of the two-story structure. Gretchen showed them in through the kitchen. With the suitcases brought into the living room, Gretchen got to work making some sandwiches and heating up some soup she had in the pantry.
“Should I attempt to call them back?” she asked as she brought over a plate of fruit.
“Trust me, for a million bucks, they’ll call,” said Armando.
“I’d try to call. Let them know you’re back in town,” offered Trace. “And try your ex again. See what the updates are, if any.”
“Good idea,” Coop agreed, with his phone to his ear.
“And I’m texting Kate now to let her know we got home safely. She can let my folks know.”
When Gretchen tried to redial the number the stranger had called from, it came up with a disconnect. She tried again with the same result.
“He’s got a phone that probably blocks incoming calls. Makes the device harder to trace that way,” revealed Fredo.
“So let’s discuss what we know,” said Trace. Gretchen sat next to him, texting her sister.
Coop walked toward the hallway, talking to his contact.
“She’s in a warehouse type structure,” said Armando.
“It’s cold. Probably no heat in the building. We got a business like a wholesale florist, I’m guessing from the name,” added Fredo.
“I’m wondering how they knew where she’d be,” added Gretchen.
“You think they’ve been following them? Following the girls?” asked Trace.
“They definitely did some advance work. That might indicate a detailed plan,” said Fredo.
“You notice anyone unusual lurking around the house?” Trace questioned her.
She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’m coming up blank. Of course, I was rushing around, getting ready for this trip. I probably wasn’t paying attention.” She hung her head in shame. Trace squeezed her shoulder.
“Don’t blame yourself, Gretchen. Really not your fault,” he promised.
“You know, something must have given them the idea. I’m guessing this isn’t a big operation, more like the crime of opportunity,” Armando added.
“Maybe they thought they’d get Gretchen as well. Perhaps they got lucky when Clover was left all alone? That type of thing, Armando?”
His Team brother shrugged. “Could be. Just speculation. But I’m thinking something planted the thought this would be a good idea.”
“You check your messages for anything from the police, Gretchen?” Trace asked her.
She ran to the kitchen and pushed the replay on the answering machine and wrote down the detective’s name who left her a message some three hours ago. “I’m going to call him right now.”
Before she could do so, her cell rang. She held up the screen, showing the SEALs it was the same number.
“Mrs. Sanders. You are back in Oregon now?”
“Yes.” She pushed speakerphone so they could all hear.
“Good. So we have spoken to your husband.”
“Ex.”
“Ex-husband then. And he has indicated he will be working on raising the necessary cash. I suggest you coordinate with him. But he has violated one of my rules about the police and the press.”
“Yes, I just found out about that. We’ve not been able to talk yet. I’ve been on the plane coming home.”
“This is what he says as well. I am not happy, Mrs. Sanders. Your husband doesn’t seem to want to follow the rules. He must be taught a lesson.”
Trace tensed, hoping Tony’s mistakes were not going to be taken out on Clover.
“So I have raised the bar to $1,500,000 dollars. This is non-negotiable.”
Gretchen gasped, but Cooper put his finger to his lips, motioning her to be calm. Trace saw her struggle to stuff down her anger and her growing fear.
“Y-yes. I’m listening.”
Good girl, Gretchen, Trace thought.
“He gave permission for you to bring the money to the designated drop-off spot.”
Gretchen rolled her eyes. Trace shrugged and motioned for her to continue the dialog.
Cooper held up his notebook, on which he had written, ask to speak to Clover again. See if you can get more clues.
“Okay, we’ll work that out,” she said to the kidnappers. “But I want to talk to Clover again to make sure she’s okay.”
“I will give you exactly one minute when I’m done. Tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock, I will call you back, and you will bring the money to the spot I’ll designate. You’ll only have a few minutes to get there. Are you less than thirty minutes to Clover’s school?”
“Yes.”
“The drop won’t be there, but I will leave further instructions for you at the school.”
“H-how will I know?” Gretchen asked.
“It will be explained tomorrow. Now, would you like to speak with Clover?”
“Yes, please.”
They all heard the teen’s fragile voice start in with the same refrain she’d had earlier. “Mom, when are you coming to get me?”
“Soon, baby.” She looked at Coop for further instructions since he was writing furiously in his notebook. Gretchen read it over quickly and then repeated the instructions he’d written. “Did they take you far, sweetheart? Was it—?”
The sound of the phone dropping gave Trace the chills.
“Mrs. Sanders, you were told not to make tricks with me. I am going to be very angry if you don’t behave. It’s going to be a long evening. You don’t want me anywhere near your daughter when I get angry.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“Your full compliance is required, Mrs. Sanders.”
The last sentence was drowned out by the sounds of a locomotive blast in the background and then what appeared to be a rumbling echo as the train was accelerating. The men stiffened and took notice.
“No more tricks. Tomorrow at eleven then.”
“Sir, please, may I—?”
But the phone had already gone dead.
“We need a Portland map of the rail lines. You have something like that here, Gretchen?” asked Coop.
“I can get it online.” She pulled out her laptop from her carry-on bag and began the internet search. Finding the page she wanted, she turned the computer to face Coop and Trace, who studied it side-by-side.
“Wish Tyler was here. He grew up in Portland,” muttered Gretchen.
“I think we have what we need,” said Trace. “Look. There’s a station house, and it’s a hub. We’ve got what appears to be about four sets of tracks all parallel there. The only other one I see is downtown Portland.” Trace stood up. “Wouldn’t we have heard cars and other city activity?”
“Good thinking. So, Gretchen, what is this area here called?” asked Coop.
“We just call it the warehouse waterfront district. Used to be the cheapest loft rentals in the city, but now it’s gotten trendy. Still, many of those buildings are abandoned,” she answered.
“Is it close to the school?” Trace asked.
“Very close. Yes.”
Coop’s phone rang. After a brief discussion, he ended his call with a “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one again.” He smiled to his audience. “Okay, he gave me coordinates that said between the river and Brickyard. North is the Pallatine Bridge, and south is the entrance to the 305 freeway. He said that was about a ten block radius.”
“Brickyard is right here.” Gretchen pointed out the labeled street. “And the rails run right through the first third of that square you just gave me. All the new upscale lofts are along the river, so I’d guess they’d be somewhere around here.”
Trace was starting to feel hopeful. “Good job, sweetheart. You know that area at all?”
“Lots of homeless shelters. Some rescue missions and a couple brew pub houses. The whole place is undergoing massive renovation so there are construction projects all over. Closed streets. It’s a mess getting through there.”
“But we didn’t hear any construction, either. Just the trains,” said Trace.
“I don’t ever go there alone. Sometimes, the church youth group would help out serving Thanksgiving Dinner down there, but as a big group. Not a place to go to at night by yourself.”
“And that’s why you’re not going by yourself,” he told her.
“Good deal. I can live with that,” said Coop. “How many buildings are in that area?”
Gretchen sat down again and put her palm to her forehead. “Tons.”
“Explain what you mean by tons,” said Fredo.
She stared at her hands neatly folded on the tabletop. “I’m going to guess and say more than fifty. At least.”