The Watchman Read online

  She gave a wry smile. “You don’t know Harry. He thinks he’s invincible. He’ll use Cody as bait to trap you. You’ll have to be very careful. Harry’s capable of murder.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” I grinned. “These hands are lethal weapons.”

  “Something tells me you might not be kidding.”

  Time for a change of subject. “We’ll have to make ourselves comfortable here for the night. The search should spread outside the city by morning.” I handed her a plastic-wrapped pack of cheese crackers with peanut butter. “This is dinner. Sorry. But the Shop-In-Grab-It didn’t have Chateaubriand to go.”

  She chuckled. “What, no champagne either?”

  “Nope, not even a soda. My pockets were full. But there’s water in the cooler in the corner.”

  I sought Rachel’s gaze in the dim lighting. “If we get out of this, I’ll ask George to fly you to the ranch tomorrow.”

  “I’m scared. Visions of a life sentence keep flashing before my eyes.”

  I touched her arm. “They don’t give you life for taking your own son. Don’t be frightened. I said a prayer—I have connections in high places. We’ll work through this. I had to get you out. Harry could harm you inside the jail. If you die, he automatically gets custody of Cody. We should be safe here until morning.”

  I studied her face. “How did you get mixed up with a guy like Harry London?” I already knew most of it.

  She sighed and shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve asked myself that question. As I told you, I’m an orphan, one of the kids who was never adopted. When I turned eighteen, my grades earned me a scholarship at a small college nearby. After graduation, I came to Hebron and went to work in the courthouse. That’s where I met Harry.” She leaned back against the padded wall. “He was handsome and wealthy. All the girls in the office vied for his attention. For some reason, he chose me. The men I’d dated before had been about as deep as a salad plate. Harry made me feel special. No one had ever made me feel that way. Lucky me. At least, I thought so back then.”

  Her eyes fixed above my head. “He seemed to embody all I’d ever wanted in a husband. I suppose I wanted a father figure, and he was fifteen years older. When he asked me to marry him, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. But the ecstasy lasted less than a week after the wedding. He became abusive right away—fractured my wrist two weeks later, and I soon found myself pregnant with no place to go.” She shook her head. “Looking back, I realized there were signs of his dominant nature before we married—things I chose to ignore. He selected where we went, what we ate, and even made suggestions on how I should dress. I’d become accustomed to people at the orphanage controlling my life. His arrogance didn’t register until it was too late.”

  “Were you aware he had surveillance cameras inside your home?”

  Her mouth opened in a tiny gasp. “That’s how he always knew when I planned to leave. I didn’t think even Harry would stoop that low.” She looked down at her hands. “There’s something I haven’t told you. My father shot my mother and then committed suicide. He was mentally ill. Harry insisted the courts would never give me custody of Cody with insanity in my family, and like an idiot, I was too frightened to take the chance.”

  “Your father’s mental illness has no bearing on you or your ability to raise your son.” I handed her my cell phone. “Call Bill. Tell him you’re OK, and you’ll be home tomorrow. Don’t tell him where you are. If anyone asks, he won’t have to lie.”

  She made the call and returned the phone. “Noah, helping me escape will get you into so much trouble and that poor guard. Why did she help me?” Tears pooled in her eyes, making them glisten in the semi-darkness.

  “I was already in trouble, remember? Besides, they may not know I’m involved. As for Jessie, she had a husband like Harry.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’ve gone out of your way––put your life in jeopardy—to help Cody and me.”

  “Because I don’t like bullies who beat up pretty ladies and little boys.”

  “Oh, Noah.” Rachel moved closer to me and hid her face against my chest.

  Sudden sounds caught my attention. A murmur of voices moved in our direction.

  I planted my hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. “Someone’s coming.”

  9

  Unitas Office Building

  Motion suspended for a split-second. Placing a finger to my lips, I signaled Rachel to get under the desk. Her face drained of color, her eyes went wide with fear. I leaned close to her ear and spit out a fierce whisper, “Stay put. I’ll be back.”

  Once out of sight and in furtive mode, I scurried into the small lobby outside the office.

  A mass of human activity filled the halls. The manhunt had expanded to the tower’s fourth floor. Mentally, I reviewed search protocol from police academy lectures. Within minutes, they would seal off the exits and move in—tighten the circle little by little, until there was no place to hide.

  The Christmas lights on the tree in the corner chastised me. In the season of peace and goodwill, I was on the run for charges of kidnapping and had just committed a jailbreak. For a man who believed in the rule of law, I had broken more than my share tonight.

  Cops entered each office and hastened down the corridor toward me—guns drawn. The elevator dinged and regurgitated two more uniforms into the melee. Within minutes, they would reach the office where Rachel was hiding. Our trackers moved fast, too fast, down the hallway toward me. Panicked, I searched the area for an escape route. Around the corner, I spied a door below a red fire exit sign—with a crash bar.

  Thank You, Jesus.

  I hit the bar like a bull through a rodeo gate. The impact set off the alarm above my head, threatening deafness. The angry blasts drove me back into the lobby toward the on-rushing horde of blue uniforms.

  I hugged the wall as police trampled past in pursuit like a gaggle of angry geese.

  Someone shouted, “She’s headed for the stairs, radio Simmons to post guards at the bottom of the stairwell.”

  The corridor filled with curses from a burly cop close enough for me to touch. “If she, and whoever helped her escape, gets away, the chief will transfer us out to Fargo, North Dakota.”

  I was closer to panic than I wanted to admit, even to myself. But too much was riding on this escape to let these guys mess it up.

  Still invisible, I bounded down the stairs behind the boys in blue and set off alarms at levels three and two until I reached the ground floor. More curses ensued as they split up and tried to cover everywhere at once.

  As ordered, Simmons stood at the door like a Rottweiler on guard duty. I slipped behind him and my fingers found the perfect pressure point on his neck. He slid to the floor unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. A trick I learned from a SEAL I’d shared a hospital room with in Germany. While we’d waited for our bodies to mend, he’d taught me eight ways to kill or incapacitate a Tango—his name for the bad guys—with my bare hands.

  Outside, my accommodating friends had left a couple of squad cars parked at an angle near the building and I hurried to the nearest one. Keys were in the ignition.

  Too easy, but I wasn’t complaining.

  While Hebron’s finest chased ghosts below the building’s fourth floor, I slid into the car seat and fired up the cruiser. Within minutes, they would find Simmons and the search would go outside.

  Operating from the seat of my pants was a bad practice. I had to come up with a plan. A good plan. Driving too fast for safety on the snow-covered streets, I plumbed my mind for somewhere to stash the much-too-conspicuous vehicle. I swooped past the park in the center of town. Like a flash, a mental picture of an old abandoned barn, where I played as a kid, came to mind.

  Near the city limits, the headlights brought the decaying structure into view past a series of side streets. I pulled across the field, got out, jerked open the rickety doors, and then pulled the cruiser inside. As quickly as my cold
fingers would allow, I disconnected the vehicles radio and GPS system, and then made the long trek back to town keeping in the shadows when not invisible.

  In stealth mode, I entered the office building and traveled to the fourth floor. As I’d hoped, the area had cleared. The cops were now searching the countryside for the missing black and white.

  I sometimes felt bad about the advantage my gifts gave me over pond scum like many of the men on Hebron’s police force. But this was not one of those times.

  Inside the office and back to normal, I whispered, “Rachel?”

  She stuck her head out from under the desk. “Noah, where have you been? I thought...I thought they’d caught you.”

  I shook my head. “I had to draw them away from you. It was close, but we should be OK until morning.”

  “What happens in the morning?”

  “You go back to the ranch, and I go get Cody.”

  

  Temperature in the building had lowered overnight and the chill had seeped deep into my bones. Around six o’clock the thermostat snapped on spreading welcome warmth and awakened the smell of stale coffee stains in the carpet.

  Rachel pulled up the hood on her jumpsuit and slipped on my sunglasses. We went in search of my car, our steps crunching across the snow that had blown into the double-tiered garage.

  We entered the Honda in sub-zero temperatures. Shivering uncontrollably, I placed a call to George and told him to meet me at the airport. Soon, the heater pushed warm air upward from the floorboard. I maneuvered through alleys and side streets to the municipal airport where George kept his planes.

  Authorities would post Rachel’s photo over the media outlets, so driving to the ranch didn’t seem a wise move.

  I eased my car in close to George’s twin engine Cessna with the plane between the control tower and us. George couldn’t let them know the plane carried a passenger. I had explained the situation to him on the phone, and he didn’t sound happy. He cast a disapproving gaze at me and then back at Rachel, unspoken concern in his eyes.

  I shifted uneasily. Involving another friend in my criminal activities bothered me. But my choices were few. The authorities would have checked the airport last night, so I needed to get her out of there fast before they returned.

  “Can you fly Rachel to The Hand Me Down? I’ll understand if you want to pass.”

  With a tug on his ball cap, he paused to consider and then gave me a weary nod. “I’ll take her.”

  He helped Rachel into the backseat. “Stay down until we get into the air. As far as the tower is concerned, I’m flying solo.”

  Rachel nodded. She turned back to me. “I want to come with you to get Cody.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. “You can’t. You’d be a liability. Every cop in town has you on their radar. They don’t take kindly to people who make them look foolish. I’ll bring Cody to you. I promise.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she processed what I said. Then she handed me Jess’s coat and ducked down behind the pilot’s seat. George covered her with a blanket.

  Standing beside my car, I watched the plane as it rose into the air. Satisfied Rachel was safely on her way, I started the Honda and switched on the radio. A reporter on a Christian music station compared Rachel’s escape to that of Peter’s release from prison by an angel of the Lord.

  The police didn’t like that explanation, although they didn’t have a better idea for the daring getaway. The security cameras had failed to pick up any portion of her escape.

  The security tape revealed just one visitor to the women’s section that night––Harry London. The Hebron Herald suggested it had been an inside job, and the police should question Judge London about his wife’s break out.

  The irony of the situation was perfect.

  Next stop, Crown Heights. I had a promise to keep.

  

  Harry London’s Home

  The ideal time to pick up the boy would have been while Harry sat in chambers, but a daylight rescue would be too risky. Jake told me he played cards at the club on Friday night with Harry. As I turned onto Cedar Hills Drive, I prayed the poker game was a standing engagement. I scanned the driveway for Harry’s car. Nothing—no Crown Heights squad car lurked nearby.

  By God’s grace, it looked like I’d caught a break.

  Invisible, I entered the kitchen and located the lady wrestler on duty. The sitter placed a cheeseburger and chips on a tray. My mouth watered. I’d only one meal in the last twenty-four hours, if I didn’t count the package of peanut butter crackers I’d shared with Rachel.

  Tray in hand she mounted the stairs with me in her wake. She unlocked the bedroom door, lumbered inside, and placed the meal on Cody’s desk.

  I caught a quick glimpse of the boy. He watched cartoons from a cross-legged position on the bed—chin in his hands. Sad, but apparently unharmed.

  Without acknowledging the boy in any way, the woman turned and left the room. The Amazon locked the door and retreated down the hallway.

  I whispered through the keyhole. “Cody, I came back for you.”

  Cody placed his mouth close to the lock. “Noah?”

  I’d never heard anyone put so much joy into the sound of my name. “Yep, it’s me. I’m taking you out of here and to your mom. We’ll try the same drill as before. When you see me outside your window, come out on the ledge and jump to me.” I lowered my voice. “Be very quiet. We don’t want to disturb your sitter. Will she come back to pick up the tray?”

  “No, she leaves when Dad gets home.” Cody’s voice sounded through the keyhole. “She’ll clean up the room in the morning.”

  “Good.” They might not miss him until the next day, and we needed as much of a head start as we could get.

  The D.A. said there were no cameras outside, and I prayed the situation hadn’t changed since I was now flesh and blood. If London had installed an outside security system, this time the D.A. would have proof of kidnapping.

  Sounds of an automobile in the alley brought me up short. All the homes in the area had back entrances to the garage. The car stopped and the door closed with a loud crack. I couldn’t tell which direction the noise came from.

  Dear God, not again.

  Cody came to the window, unlocked it, and raised the sash. I motioned him back. His eyes widened in panic. I watched as he whirled toward the bedroom door. From my position under the ledge, I couldn’t see what happened inside his room. The bedroom door opened, and seconds later, closed again.

  I charged around the corner, expecting to see Harry or the twins with guns pointed at my heart. Instead, chatter from two females next door greeted my ears.

  Before this night ended, I would die of fright.

  Back to the spot under Cody’s ledge, I searched for movement in his room. He wasn’t there. I imagined every terrible possibility. Had Harry come home? Had he taken Cody? I checked my watch. Almost ten minutes before I could become invisible again.

  Urgent steps brought me to the tree near Cody’s window. I struggled up to the limb nearest his bedroom—five feet from the open transom.

  I climbed the western river birch to the second level, grabbed a naked branch above my head with both hands and began to swing. The cold, rough bark cut into my palms as I stretched full length and tried to get a foot inside. And missed.

  I also missed the next three attempts.

  I returned to an upright position on the limb, my hands stinging. Teeth gritted, I tried once again. This time I landed both feet hard inside Cody’s room. My leg grazed his dinner tray and it crashed to the floor. My invisibility kicked in just as the door jerked open.

  Harry stood in the doorway. “What was that?”

  Cody peeked around his father into the room. “My tray fell. Where are you taking me?”

  “You’re moving down to the end of the hall. I’m planning a surprise for your friend, Mr. Adams, when he shows up.”

  Cody braced against the wall, his fists clenched like a fighter re
ady for the bout of his life. “I won’t stay here. I’m going to my mom.”

  Face red, Harry turned toward the boy. “You’ll do what I tell you.”

  “No, I won’t!”

  Harry swung his right hand at Cody. Before I could reach Harry, something amazing happened. With a fast judo move, Cody stepped forward into the blow, grabbed his father’s arm and using Harry’s weight as leverage, threw him to the floor. Cody’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Riding wasn’t the only thing Bill Hand taught the boy.

  Harry rose from the floor and charged, his face contorted with fury. Cody pushed over a chair in front of his father, blocking the path. In a desperate attempt to avoid Harry’s grasp, Cody grabbed trophies and bric-a-brac from the bookcases, hurled them at Harry, and made a frantic dash for the stairway.

  As Cody rounded the curve in the flight of steps, Harry rushed toward the landing in pursuit. I stuck out an invisible arm and close-lined Harry, catching him solid across the throat. He went down like the Berlin Wall. He rose to his knees, slowly, one hand on his throat, the other feeling the air, face immobile, mouth open. I reached behind him, snatched a vase from the floor, and banged it hard against his skull, hard enough to keep him off our trail for a while.

  I promised myself someday soon, very soon, Harry London and I would meet one on one. Then I wouldn’t hide behind my invisibility, and he couldn’t hide behind his cowardice.

  For the present, we had to get out of Dodge before someone else showed up. Outside and normal again, I rushed to find Cody. He slammed into me as I rounded the corner near his window. With a soft yelp, he staggered back and almost lost his footing.

  I reached to steady him. “It’s OK. It’s me.”

  Cody leaned against me, trembling. “D-Dad . . .?”

  “He won’t bother us for now.”

  Adrenalin pumping, Cody and I headed west toward the Hand Me Down and to his mother. We made one stop on the way for dinner to go.