The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [2]
“Does the FBI know you were contacted by your grandson’s kidnapper?” I asked.
Abb shook his head.
“How about the police?” I asked.
Abb shook his head again.
“Why haven’t you told them?”
“Because I want you to find him,” Abb said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’ve met six guys in Starke who are serving life for kidnapping little kids. You put them here. That’s why.”
I slipped the ransom note into my pocket.
“You’re going to take the job?” Abb asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good.”
I stood and so did Stone. She went over and placed her hand on Abb’s shoulder. Under her breath she said, “I’ll call you tomorrow, and let you know how the appeals are going.”
Abb gazed up at her and nodded.
One of the guards slid back the cell door. Stone and I started to leave. I saw Abb look directly at me. Something resembling hope flickered in his eyes. I decided to level with him.
“Your grandson’s case is three days old,” I said. “That’s a long time when it comes to a kidnapping. I need to do a lot of groundwork, and talk to a lot of people.”
“What are you trying to say?” Abb asked.
“I may not find Sampson before they execute you.”
“Four days isn’t enough?”
“I won’t know until I start looking.”
“I was hoping you—”
I cut him off. “I don’t make promises.”
“But—”
“That’s the deal,” I said.
Abb cast his eyes to the floor. He had asked me here because he did not want to go to his death knowing he’d caused an innocent child to suffer. I had to think it was one of the more decent things he’d done in his life.
“Okay,” he muttered.
He was still staring at the floor when we left.
CHAPTER TWO
We walked back to the prison’s main reception area. Stone had her personal items and cell phone returned, while I was given back my Colt 1908 Pocket Hammerless, which I slipped into the concealed holster in my pocket.
The parking lot was hot, the air still. Stone’s sleek BMW sports car was parked beside my aging Acura Legend. From the glove compartment she removed my fee for finding Sampson, and had me sign a receipt for it.
“I’d like you to give me a progress report every day,” she said.
“Of course,” I said.
Stone made a call on her cell phone. I listened to her talk to another lawyer about filing an appeal asking the governor to halt Abb’s execution. I didn’t like lawyers, but I had to give her credit. She was going to fight until the bitter end. I said good-bye and she nodded.
I got into my car. I’d left the windows down, yet the interior was still warm. My dog, who was curled on the passenger seat, opened his eyes. He climbed into my lap, and we spent a few moments getting reacquainted.
I’ve heard it said that bad things come in threes. The day I’d gotten thrown off the force, my wife walked out on me, and I’d gone to the Humane Society to find a new companion. I guess it said something about my luck that I’d come home with Buster, a chocolate Australian Shepherd who mistrusted everyone but me and a few of my friends.
Buster was not an easy dog to be around. He had a temper, and some funny quirks. But he also had a nose like a bloodhound, and had saved my ass plenty of times on jobs. He was part of the team, and went where I did.
The two-lane road outside the prison was as straight as a shotgun blast. I pushed the Legend up to eighty, and kept it there. Taking the kidnapper’s photo of Sampson Grimes from my pocket, I stuck it on the wheel, and stared at it as I drove.
I have spent much of my life looking for missing kids, and helping kids in trouble. There’s a reason for that. Back when my daughter, Jessie, was a little girl, a pervert exposed himself to her on the beach during a weekend outing. Luckily, I was able to rescue my daughter before the pervert did anything else.
What I remember most about that horrible day was my own fear. It replaced every other feeling in my body, and it flipped an invisible trigger inside my head that’s never gone off. When I hear a baby crying, I run to the sound. When I happen