Chapter 29 Rosco
ROSCO
Luke’s phone rings while we are talking with Tiger. He looks at the caller id. Instead of ignoring the call, like he normally would during an important meeting, he answers it. An uncomfortable feeling runs through me. Something is wrong. I just know it.
“Robertson, you’re on speaker.” Luke lays his phone down on the dining room table. “Sorry Tiger, hang on a minute,” he adds.
“Hey, Luke, it’s Atwood. I just got some disturbing news from a friend at the state police.”
“What’s that?” Luke asks. My mind races with possibilities. Has Rachel gone to them about her brothers’ abduction? Or does this have to do with the incident at my house? The police and other agencies had wanted to question her, but I’d put them off thinking she needed time to compose herself first.
“My friend, Trooper Lane Carter called to say he found a vehicle crashed on the side of the interstate not too far from Norfolk, but the driver was nowhere to be found. A passerby called it in, but they didn’t see the actual accident.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Luke asks, keeping his voice level and calm.
“He called me because the vehicle is registered to Rachel Miller,” Atwood explains, “who he remembered had been at Rosco’s yesterday. She wouldn’t be at your place, would she, Luke? We still haven’t been able to speak with her about the shooting.”
“I’m afraid not,” Luke answers as my mind is reeling. No! Rachel is actually missing?
“Where is she, Luke?” Atwood demands. “We’ve been friends a long time, and I like to think we have a good working relationship. I went to bat for you when you were dealing with The Brotherhood. Don’t hold out on me now.”
“I’m not holding out on you, Mark,” Luke answers. “I honestly don’t know her location. She took off during the night, and we haven’t been able to locate her, yet.”
“Is she hurt? What all do you know?” I begin rapid firing questions while jumping to my feet to head for my truck, not giving Atwood time to answer any of them. My mind is too overloaded to think clearly.
Bo grabs my arm, holding me in place. How ironic is this? I’d been the one who’d kept him from running off half-cocked when Shelby had been missing.
“I’m sorry, Rosco, but I don’t have many answers for you.” Atwood’s voice is full of regret.
“What answers do you have?”
“Not much—"
“What can you tell us about the scene of the accident?” Enos interrupts. He is one of the best we have at finding clues and solving problems that don’t seem to make sense.
“The vehicle is a total loss,” Atwood explains. “From Carter’s description it rolled over an embankment, flipping and hitting the ground several times before coming to rest right side up.
“The driver’s side door is hanging open, and there’s blood at the scene but not so much that he suspected the driver didn’t make it. He said there are several sets of footprints in and around the van.
The person who called in said they also saw two dark colored vehicles on the side of the road. A man was carrying a woman to one of them, but they weren’t able to give a detailed description of the vehicles, or the man they saw with the woman.”
Just then, Kelvin bursts into the room with laptop in hand.
“I’ve found her!” All eyes turn toward him at his announcement. “She’s outside Winthrop’s estate, or at least she was an hour ago. There’s a delay in the cell phone towers updating this morning for some reason.”
“I don’t want to know how you’re accessing the cell towers,” Atwood states dryly. “Did you say Winthrop estate? As in Lawrence and Gladys Winthrop?”
“Yes, that’s the place,” Kelvin verifies. “Do you know them?”
“Personally? No,” Atwood replies, “but Lawrence Winthrop is suspected of having connections to organized crime. Is that why Rosco’s house was hit?”
Ah, Fuck! Atwood is too damn good at his job. I’m not sure him knowing all the details is a good idea, but it’s too late. He’s putting all the pieces together. When no one replies, he continues.
“Why would Rachel Miller, your employee, be outside his estate, Luke?” Atwood inquires, his tone no longer friendly, since no one has offered to give him an answer to his previous questions.
“It’s a complicated situation,” Luke begins but is interrupted when Kelvin’s laptop pings drawing our attention.
“Hot damn!” he exclaims. “My program has updated to real time. Her phone is pinging along the interstate.”
“Where?” I ask instantly. “Can you tell if it is moving?”
“Near Norfolk, and it appears to be stationary, but like I said earlier it’s updating slower than usual.” The brief hope I’d felt leaves me in a rush. Rachel no longer has her phone with her.
“No!” I bellow. This day just goes from bad to worse.
“What the hell?” Kelvin asks, giving a shocked expression. Bo quickly catches him up on what Det. Atwood had told us.
Fear, regret, and guilt overwhelm me. This is all my fault. If I’d only made it clear to her she meant something to me, she wouldn’t be out there, putting herself in danger. I’ve fucked up, but I refuse to let her suffer because of it.
“We need to speak to the witness,” I demand, finally pulling myself together enough to join the conversation. “They may know more than they think. We just need to ask the right questions.”
“I don’t have a name or number for the witness, but let me see what I can find out,” Atwood says reluctantly. “I’m going to end up owing people for the rest of my life with the favors I call in for you guys.”
“True,” Bo agrees, “but we owe you just as many favors, so it all evens out.”
“Yeah, right.” Atwood chuckles sarcastically. “I’ll be in touch.” The line goes dead.
I close my eyes to block out the world, for a moment, but it does no good. A body lying on a growing, dark red stain in the sand comes to mind, but instead of 1Lt. Montgomery’s sightless eyes staring back at me, they’re Rachel’s.
Her once beautiful eyes are no longer holding her light. She’s gone, and once again, it’s my fault. I can’t lose her when I’ve only just accepted that I need her. A hand on my shoulder pulls me from the hellish vision, causing me to jump.
“I promise we will find her,” Bo says firmly, holding my gaze “and bring her back to you.”
“You can’t promise that,” I say, hating how my voice cracks at the truth. “They have her, Bo. This is on me.”
“You can’t think that way or give up hope, Rosco,” Bo reminds me gently.
“I know how you feel. I haven’t forgotten how Marley and Shelby ended up in the hands of the Brotherhood.
That was on me, but none of you let me blame myself.
And I won’t allow you to either. We will get her back, sooner rather than later. ”
I nod, willing myself to believe his words and sending up a silent prayer for God to watch over her until I can hold her again. I haven’t been a praying man in the past, but if he will get Rachel and I through this, I swear I’ll be a better man.
“We still need to finish the call with Tiger,” Bo reminds me. “We need to gather intel and form a plan. Then we’ll need to get our go-bags. I don’t expect this is going to be a quick trip.” I nod because my brother is correct, but it doesn’t make waiting any easier.
“Yeah, I thought you guys had forgotten me,” Tiger calls from my back pocket where I’d tucked my phone as I’d made to leave. I pull it out and place it back on the table.
“Only for a couple of minutes,” I admit, “I’m sure you can understand. I need to get to my woman so spit out whatever it is that’s so important for you to keep calling.”
“Well hell! You’ve got a woman, too?” Tiger questions, sounding as stunned by this development as I am at my public admission.
“Yes, Rachel is mine,” I admit, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “And I’m kinda in a hurry to go find her, so get on with it, man.” Tiger chuckles briefly before sounding serious again.
“This ain’t something I’m comfortable saying over the phone,” Tiger begins, “but it’s something you need to know. Just know the cluster-fuck that was our last mission together isn’t on you.
“I know you’ve blamed yourself for what happened to the 1stLt., but we have solid evidence to support that isn’t true. Go find your woman, then text me when you’re free to meet up.”
“All right, Tiger,” I agree. “I’ll see you soon.” I end the call and pocket my phone, even though I’m curious as hell about Tiger’s cryptic words.
It’s about an hour before we’ve gotten all the intel we need. Det. Atwood has come through for us in a big way by not only getting the phone number of the witness, but also informing us of a reported incident at a truck stop near Richmond.
The witness had been more than willing to tell us what they knew after I’d explained that my wife was missing. Just a little white lie in the grand scheme of things. Nevertheless, it got us what we needed.
We have a direction of travel, and with the reported disturbance at the truck stop, Kelvin has been able to work his magic with traffic cameras. We found footage from the truck stop and saw not only Rachel but the twins on the grainy video.
Luke had called in a favor, and a local helicopter pilot is flying us to the scene. When we arrive, there are, thankfully, a couple of truck drivers on mandatory rest time still at the truck stop.
“You saw what happened here earlier?” I ask when the men approach us. The first one nods and pulls out his cell phone.
“I recorded it,” he says proudly. “Here, see for yourself.” He hands me his phone and clicks the video which begins to play. My heart drops when I see the scene unfold. Rachel elbows the man holding her and grabs her brothers into a hug, then her captor does the unthinkable.
I’m going to kill the bastard when I catch up to them. Send him straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. He hit her! In. The. Face. She was bleeding.
“Will you send that to me?” Kelvin asks, glancing between me and the man whose phone I’m holding.
“What do you want it for?” the man asks, reaching for his phone. “Are you going to use it on the news? I hear you can get paid for catching news as it happens.” He looks at us expectantly.
“Find out the going rate,” Bo says to Kelvin without hesitation before turning to the man.
“We aren’t going to use it on the news. She is his woman.
” He points to me. “We are going to use special software to find out who that man is so we can get her back. If you want money to share it with us, it’s money you’ll get.
Rachel means more than a few hundred dollars. ”
“I’m sorry,” the trucker says, sounding contrite. “I got carried away. No money needed.” He gets Kelvin’s number and sends the video. Kelvin loads it to his facial recognition software within minutes. Now to find out who the bastard is that’s holding Rachel.
“Thank you,” I say, holding out my hand to shake his. The man gives me a firm shake.
“I hope you get her back safely,” the trucker says. I nod, knowing she’s already been hurt. The best I can hope for is no additional injuries.
“Let’s get going,” Bo says, slapping my shoulder. We all climb back into the Airbus H225. It’s one of the top civilian helicopters with a range of 832 miles and a top speed of 201 mph. It should get us damn close to Chicago without stopping for fuel, but I’m praying we don’t have to go that far.
We follow the interstate searching for the vehicles we’d seen in the video. Bo and I each have high resolution binoculars. We’re each perched on either side, scanning the traffic. Before long, I spot a dark colored sedan keeping, pace with the traffic.
“I think I’ve found them,” I say into the headset. “Can you get us lower?” The pilot lowers the aircraft until we’re only about fifty feet above the road. I zoom in on the sedan’s license plate. “That’s them! That’s the car that Rachel was in.”
“You’re right it is,” Bo confirms. He switches from in-cabin communication to call Luke, who is running the operation from his office at Invictus Security and Protection Agency.
“We’ve got them,” Bo announces the moment the call connects. I’m linked in so we can conference call. “At least the vehicle Rachel was last seen in. They’re east of Richmond on Interstate 264, skirting the city.”
“How do you want to play this, Rosco?” Luke asks, filling me with fear. I have to make the right decision. They’re letting me make the call because Rachel is my woman. “You want me to call in the Alphabets? Or should we handle this ourselves with a little help from Atwood’s connections?”
The weight of my answer is heavy on my shoulders. Rachel and the twins’ lives depend on me making the right choice. I’d made the wrong one six years ago, giving the 1Lt. my Ka-bar. I won’t do it again.
Suddenly I’m back in Luke’s dining room, and Dalton is demanding I tell him the 1Lt.’s last words. C.I.A. Then I recall what Tiger had said, “I know you’ve blamed yourself for what happened to the 1Lt., but we have solid evidence to support that isn’t true.”
“Don’t call in the Alphabets, yet. I’m not sure we can trust them,” I answer, sounding much more confident than I’m feeling. “How are we going to get them when they’re moving down the road at 80mph?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Luke replies.
“Well, if we knew what route they’re planning to take and where they might stop for gas or a bathroom break,” Bo muses, “then we could be ready for them.”
“Yeah, but that would be putting a bunch of civilians in danger,” Luke reminds us. “We could wait until they get to Chicago, but then we’d be running a long-distance operation in a city where we don’t have a lot of contacts. Not only that but you’d have to refuel the Airbus at some point.
“Kelvin has been gathering information on both Caprice and Vena. He thinks he’s close to having what he needs to make a trade with Caprice for Rachel, but that doesn’t get the twins back.”
I have Google maps pulled up on my phone, looking for routes to Chicago. “If they take I-64 through West Virginia, we could try to intercept them in less populated areas, but if they head north toward D.C.…”
“We could call in the favor owed to us from the save at the Stars and Stripes,” Luke finishes my thought.
“I know I’d be asking a lot.”
“Nonsense,” Luke protests. “This is your woman we’re talking about and her brothers. There’s no better use of a favor than saving the ones you love.”
“Agreed,” Bo and I say at the same time. Bo grins as his gaze meets mine.