10. Jack
10
JACK
Sam and I meet at the Red Mark headquarters while his wife Cass stays with Ava at the safe house. Although I’ve heard about the facilities here, I’ve only seen a small part of the complex. The meeting room we’re in is impressive, with a large glass table and luxurious leather chairs. It’s equipped with electronic boards and teleconference gadgets that would make the military green with envy. Red Mark is backed by two wealthy investors—the very people Sam and his business partner, Mark Connor, protected when they still worked as bodyguards in New York. But beyond the finances, my brother has done well.
Sam brings up a map on the screen and starts marking a few locations digitally.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
“I checked the rental car company. The car had been returned to their depot in L.A. And these are the places where the bearded man refueled.” Sam’s finger glides across the glassy surface of the screen.
I look at his tired eyes and ask, “You found all this by yourself? ”
“Of course!” Sam responds with confidence. “Although I wish Cora-Lee was here. It’s been like working with one arm tied behind my back without her.”
“Where’s she?”
“She’s in the hospital for sinus surgery.”
“I hope she’s okay,” I express my worry. Cora-Lee is a tech genius who can locate anything as long as it’s stored digitally.
Sam refocuses on the map and adds, “All these places are en route between L.A. and Helena. Except this one.” He puts a red circle on Townsend, a town about thirty miles southeast of Helena.
I praise him with a pat on his shoulder. “I’m gonna check it out.”
“Be careful, and keep your distance.”
“As far as our enemies are concerned, I’m Jack Benedict. I don’t know Ava, I don’t know you.”
“Good.” Sam nods, gesturing for me to go.
I ask, “Do you have men on standby in case Quinton is there?”
“I’ve got your back, Jack. Call me when you find something.”
Grabbing my jacket, I leave the meeting room. I make my way toward the basement exit, the same way I entered earlier today. This exit leads to an adjacent building where I parked my car, trying to preserve my dissociation with Red Mark for as long as I can. As I drive out cautiously, my eyes dart around, constantly on the lookout for any signs of someone following me. Satisfied, I head straight to Townsend.
Upon arriving, I question my enemy’s choice of this hiding place. Townsend seems more like a holiday destination than a suitable location to conceal a baby. The Big Belt Mountains envelop the town on its west side, and the Missouri River flows nearby. Nonetheless, just like a lot of spots in Montana, the isolation of a place can make it an advantage for criminals.
I decide to stop by the town center to fill up with gas. The old man behind the counter has a boat-captain look that reminds me of a face from cruise advertisements back in Oahu. He quotes the price, “Thirty-five fifty.” Then he makes eye contact. “Visiting today?”
“Um…yeah. Actually, I’m not really sure where I’m going. I’m looking for my sister, she’s just moved here. But we lost contact, and I don’t really know her address.”
“Hmm. We’re a small community, and there aren’t that many newcomers here.”
I show him a photo and ask, “Have you seen her? She would be with a baby.”
“I’m sorry, young man, I can’t remember.” He glances at me as he puts away the cash I just handed to him.
Deciding that the man at the store was unlikely to cooperate, I leave without asking any more questions. I keep driving around, and eventually, I come across a bookstore that also sells toys. If Quinton is here, maybe the babysitter bought something from this store.
As I gaze at the friendly face of the cashier from outside, an idea springs to mind.
Before entering the store, I create a new contact on my phone using the photo of the babysitter that Ava helped me find. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about her. Greta Hall is a twenty-five-year-old college dropout who has spent her whole life in L.A. Her primary source of income has been babysitting, supplemented by occasional work at supermarkets and hotels.
The bookshop lady greets me with a wide smile. When she offers assistance, I politely decline, stating that I’m just browsing. I peruse the shelves, but none of the books catch my attention. However, determined not to leave empty-handed, I pick up a plush toy from a basket.
“Isn’t it adorable?” the lady says. “It’s your lucky day. This is the last one!”
“Very popular, obviously.”
“Well, I actually just ordered two of them. They’re these beautiful handmade items from Kenya. The first one got sold right away to a lovely lady who wanted it for her baby.”
“I’m actually buying this for my nephew. Coincidentally, my sister has recently moved here! Maybe I’m buying it for the same baby?”
“Oh, that little boy absolutely loves giraffes, doesn’t he?”
“Was he upset when he was here? I heard from my sister they lost his favorite toy—and no surprise, it was a giraffe.”
“Maybe you’re right.” The lady chuckles as she wraps the toy.
I continue the conversation. “I’m from L.A. I have no idea where I am, and my sister isn’t answering my calls. I’m looking for this address.” I show her the babysitter’s contact I just created, purposely exposing the photo and the name and address I made up.
“Well, I don’t know where she lives, but that address doesn’t look familiar. No wonder you couldn’t find it. But look, Townsend is a small place. Maybe if you just drive around, you’ll find her.”
I thank the lady and continue. I meticulously search every street in town, but nothing jumps out at me. My last option is to venture toward the outskirts, closer to the river.
There’s not much out here, mostly farms. However, my attention is drawn to a small, worn-out house. Behind a pile of discarded items on the front porch, I notice the handle of a stroller peeking out.
Since there’s no one around, I step into the front yard to investigate the house’s exterior. All the windows are covered with newspaper from the inside, allowing me only a small gap to peek through.
Goodness gracious!
There is a crib with a neatly folded blanket and carefully stacked pillow. If there was such a thing as five-star housekeeping for a baby bed, this would be it. But my eyes lock onto the giraffe plush toy in the corner of the mattress, the twin to the one I just purchased. The back door is unlocked, and I let myself in.
No one’s here. That could mean Quinton had been transported somewhere else, or they were merely out. I believe the latter as the house doesn’t feel abandoned.
I could wait for the group to return, hoping that Quinton would be with them. But I don’t know the exact number of people. There are no indications regarding how many pairs of shoes or the amount of plates and glasses that have been used. The junk out on the porch looks to belong to the previous owner or someone else. It’s old. Everything inside is tidy.
Ava mentioned that the babysitter was meticulous, potentially possessing an obsessive-compulsive tendency to ensure everything is in order, or else she would become unhinged. Maybe this has been one of the reasons why the group has been moving around undetected.
I’ve never held a baby in my life, let alone rescued one. Everything will become that much more delicate when a tiny human is involved. Quinton will be completely defenseless while I fight the kidnappers. It’s likely that Quinton will stay with the babysitter, and I can’t just overpower her as I would an adult criminal. So there’s a high chance she could escape with the baby, and then I’d be back to square one.
Feeling uneasy, I decide not to leave any evidence of my presence and drive away before calling Sam. Almost at the same time, Sam contacts me.
I start, “They’re here, in Townsend.”
“Is Quinton with them?”
“No one’s in the house, but I know it’s their hiding place.”
“Well, we’ve received a demand from Willem,” Sam reveals.
There’s a thump behind my chest, echoing like the resounding finale of my beating heart. We’ve been waiting for this, yet it’s unsettling me to my core. “How?”
“While Ben was investigating in North Helena, a passing motorcyclist threw a bag at him. Inside the bag was a letter demanding that Ava go to an address between Clancy and Jefferson City.”
“Where is that?” I question.
“It’s about time you familiarized yourself with Montana!” Sam says. “It’s fifteen miles south of Helena.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“No. Come back here, and we’ll plan this carefully.”
My brother is right.
Since Sam found me, when I’m not on duty, I have dedicated every waking moment to finding the person responsible for destroying my childhood. I haven’t succeeded, but in the process, I’ve aided in the safe return of three missing children in unrelated cases. I knew my efforts were not in vain. However, now that it’s my duty to rescue the flesh and blood of the woman I love, it’s a different situation. Failing myself is one thing, but failing her?
Failure is never an option as a Marine. With her, it becomes even more imperative.