50. Suburbia
FIFTY
Suburbia
CJ
CJ let Mac drive, or maybe Mac insisted. He didn’t argue because the decision seemed a wise choice considering how his heart banged around inside his chest and how his palms were slicked with sweat. This wasn’t his usual calm self.
Jenny called shotgun, but one look from him, and she took the backseat. The rest of Delta team, Jon Knutt, Brett Parmley, the bubbly Charlene Moudin, followed in a separate car.
“You gonna explain how you know where this guy lives?” Mac’s throaty growl bounced around the inside of the car. He blew through a stop sign.
“I was with the girls…” He recounted the girl’s cookie expedition. “I stopped while the girls talked, and a van pulled into the driveway.” He punched the dash. “I saw him. The fucking van. I saw it and the timing…” The timing fit with Melissa’s abduction.
The late afternoon sun was fading. Clouds had blown in, a storm brewing perhaps, and the wind was picking up.
“How could you have known?” Jenny’s warm hand touched his shoulder, rubbing at the tension in his muscles.“Anna’s sister knew.” He rubbed the top of his head.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Angela got a weird vibe from him. Anna never picked up on it.”
“Sounds like a perv,” Mac said.
CJ looked in the side mirror. Brett Parmley blew through a red light, trying to keep up with Mac’s driving.
“Do we have a plan?” Jenny asked. “Or, are we just going to knock on the door and say, ‘Hey give me my girl back?’”
CJ ground his teeth. “Something like that.”
Mac’s tone turned serious. “Did anyone phone Sam? He’s going to flip when he finds out we’ve gone all Rambo and didn’t tell him.”
CJ kept silent. He’d raced out of the hotel suite without a word. His team had followed after him, catching up at the elevators. The explanation about Pierce Channing left grim expressions on everyone’s faces by the time they’d reached the lobby.
He’d kept moving, not wanting to wait on the Feds. They were busy following leads on Scott Patterson’s disappearance, and convincing them that this was their best lead would take time he refused to waste.
“I’ll call,” Jenny said.
CJ fixed his eyes forward, thinking they couldn’t get there fast enough.
They had no plan. Other than storming the place, all they could do was ring the doorbell. He needed eyes inside before charging in and making a fatal mistake. He chewed at his cheek, trying to strategize, failing miserably because all he could think about was the video on Melissa’s cell phone.
Jenny spoke with Sam, her voice even and smooth. “Hey, we have a lead on the kidnapper. CJ’s confident it’s the same person who took Henrietta Jones.”
She paused as Sam responded. Only the growl of his voice could be heard.
“The name is Pierce Channing,” she continued. “Hey, did you get a copy of the sketch artist’s drawings?”
More silence while she listened.
“The girls sold cookies at his house, and the younger girl remembers him sitting next to her mother at the park the following day. There’s more.” Jenny told Sam about the sketches and the surveillance tapes. She paused, listening to Sam’s questions, and then answered. “So far, it appears the guy is working alone. No connection to Scott Patterson.”
Silence again, this time longer.
Jenny tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, CJ?”
“What?”
She handed him the phone. “Sam wants to talk to you.”
He grimaced as he took the phone. “Yeah, boss.”
“What the fuck is going on?” The sharp tone of Sam’s voice spoke volumes.
“Jenny told you what’s going on.” He directed Mac as they headed out of town.
“You’re headed to this guy’s house?”
“We are.”
A long pause followed.
“I want you to listen,” Sam spoke slow and easy, a calming influence not generally present when his boss tried to get the point across. “You listening?”
“Yes.”
“Under no circumstances are you to enter. I’m almost there, and I’m coming with backup.”
“I’ve got my whole team, we’re good.” Brett and Jon were terrific. He trusted his life to them. Charlie never ceased to prove her skills.
“You’re not listening.”
“Because you’re not making sense. We’ve got this.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sam’s sigh wasn’t lost through the phone connection. CJ could imagine the shake of Sam’s head as he prepared to break the bad news.
“Pierce Channing’s name has come to my attention.”
“Well, of course,” CJ said with irritation. “We just reported it.”
“Shut the fuck up and listen.”
CJ snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth together.
“You listening?”
When he said nothing, Sam asked again. “CJ?”
“You told me to shut the fuck up,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Pierce Channing is the name of Scott Patterson’s most prolific pen pal. Does that paint the picture for you?”
Aw shit.
“Do not go inside that house,” Sam ordered. “If this guy is working for Patterson, there’s a good chance he knows where Patterson is hiding or has Patterson there. I’ll be there in…an hour and a half. I have two teams with me and SWAT on the way.”
An hour and a half? No fucking way would he wait that long.
“She could be dead by then.”
“If you blow in there with a half-cocked plan, she will be. Trust me.”
Trust wasn’t the issue. Time was their enemy.
Mac pulled into the housing development. CJ had him stop several houses down from Patterson’s home.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said to Sam with a growl.
“You’d better.”
He ended the call and debriefed Mac and Jenny.
“So,” Mac said, “we’re going to sit and wait?”
“I have no intention of sitting around,” CJ said. “Besides, I have a plan.”