Murder Inside the Beltway - Margaret Truman [109]
“Yes.”
“It’s important that you know this, Samantha. When you get home, lots of people will ask you lots of questions about how you were treated. I just want you to be honest when you answer them.”
“I will.”
“Good. And I also hope you realize that this was just business. We have nothing personal against you or your family. The business had to be finished before we could take you home.”
“Okay.”
Greta stood. “All right, my little friend, I’m going to take the tape off your ankles, but you’ll have to wear something over your eyes. I won’t use tape, provided you promise not to try to remove what I put there. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good. You’re not only a very pretty young lady, you’re very smart.”
A half hour later, Greta sat in the back of the tan four-door sedan with the blindfolded Samantha. Paul drove. They meandered toward the District, obeying all traffic signals and speed limits. Eventually, they turned onto Fourth Street, SE, and pulled to the curb, four blocks from the U.S. Capitol. It had started to rain hard during their trip, which pleased them. Fewer people on the streets.
“We’re almost there, honey,” Greta said. “Now, this is when you really have to listen to me and do everything I say. Understand?”
“I think so.”
“Oh, no, sweetheart, you have to do exactly what I say.”
“All right.”
“When I take off your blindfold and let you out, you have to promise not to look back at us. Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Say ‘I promise.’ ”
“I promise.”
“We’ll be right in front of a very nice church. You are to walk into the church—no looking back—and sit down in a pew. You know what a pew is?”
Samantha nodded.
“I want you to sit there for five minutes. You can count to five minutes, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
“After five minutes, you can use this.” She placed a stolen cell phone in the girl’s hands. “This is a simple cell phone. It’s all charged up. You know how to use a cell phone, I’m sure. All kids your age know how. After five minutes, you can use it to call your parents and tell them to come pick you up. The church is called the Capitol Hill Presbyterian Church. It’s on Fourth Street and Independence Avenue. That’s in the Southeast section of the city. Can you remember that?”
Samantha affirmed that she could, but Greta had her recite what she’d been told, which she did perfectly.
“All right. Ready?”
“Yes.” Samantha started to cry again.
“No tears,” Greta said, “or we won’t be able to let you go.”
The girl drew in a deep breath and brought herself under control.
“You’re a very good girl, Samantha,” Greta said. She kissed the girl’s cheek as Paul pulled directly in front of the church. There was no one on the street. Greta opened the door, turned Samantha so that she faced away from her, pulled off her blindfold, and gave her a nudge out the door.
“Go!” Greta said.
Paul waited a few seconds to be sure that the girl did as she’d been told, walked directly to the church’s front doors without even a glance back.
• • •
Jackson, Hall, another detective, and two FBI special agents were stationed in various parts of the Rollins house. Kloss had returned to headquarters for yet another briefing on what steps might be taken next. Jerry sat near the phone, his attention ostensibly on a magazine. His wife had been upstairs napping, but had just returned to the living room when the phone rang. Jerry had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, leaving the phone for Sue to pick up. “Hello?”
All eyes were on her as she gasped, “Oh, my God!”
“What is it?” Jerry said, racing from the kitchen.
“It’s Samantha,” Sue said.
The hand holding the phone trembled uncontrollably and Jerry grabbed it from her. “Samantha?” he said. He turned to others. “It’s her! It’s Samantha. Where are you, honey? Are you all right?”
Jackson picked up an extension and listened as the girl, sounding remarkably calm, recited where she was.
“Let’s go,” Jackson said.
A marked patrol car parked in front of the house led the procession of vehicles, its siren wailing and lights flashing. Jackson, Hall,