Chapter 18
With the aid of a long, hot bath, Chelsea managed to sleep well for the first time in days.
Her body was exhausted and her mind was so fatigued she could hardly think of anything other than Paul.
She slept in her old bed, with Sam across the hall and her parents downstairs, all their doors open in case she needed them.
At dawn she heard a noise in the kitchen and soon smelled coffee.
She put on her robe and went to down to find Justine at the table, still in pajamas, waiting for the coffee.
Her mother smiled and stood and hugged her daughter.
In her nightmares she had wondered if she would ever see her again.
They sipped coffee, talked softly, and thought about what the day might bring.
Just two weeks ago they had been blitzing through the final frantic hours before the wedding, almost certain that everything would go wrong.
A week later Chelsea was being held captive in a blackened cell.
Now, a week after that, she was home and alive but her world was shattered and empty and would remain so until Paul came home.
She said, “I suppose I should post a message and tell everyone I’m okay. I’m sure they’re curious about the silence.”
“I thought about that. The FBI said it was probably a good idea.”
“And I need a new phone.”
“You have time, dear. Let’s just enjoy these quiet moments.”
“I can’t enjoy anything, Mom. I ache from head to toe and it has nothing to do with being bound and drugged and tossed around. I want to see and feel my husband.”
“I know.”
Chelsea swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. “I’m not going to cry anymore, Mom. I’m tired of that and it does no good.”
“Agreed. Let’s stop crying.”
“We were with the FBI last night for three hours. Do you really believe we’ll see Paul again?”
“I have to believe we will. My takeaway is that this is nothing but a kidnapping racket and they’ll want more money. We’ll give it to them. We’ll give them everything we can beg, borrow, or steal. Same for the Tanners.”
“But the Tanners have nothing left, Mom. They’ve lost everything. Now they’ll be forced to move.”
“We’ll help them any way we can, Chelsea. I promise.”
“I know, Mom, and I thank you. I can’t believe this, can you?”
“No, Chelsea, it’s like a bad dream, except it’s real.”
They clutched hands again and looked at each other through wet eyes. Justine said, “Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.”
—
Agent Dyer called Justine’s cell at 9 a.m., as promised, just to report that there were no overnight developments.
The FBI office in Paris had met with the French authorities and the investigation was underway.
Police throughout France and Belgium had photos of Paul and were wiring them to thousands of phones and computers.
Interpol had been briefed and would soon join the search. French security was on high alert.
Dyer spoke with Chelsea for a moment and thanked her for the marathon session the night before.
She promised to call him if she remembered something else.
For the next few days, the FBI would monitor their devices and hope for more contact from the kidnappers.
Their last email, with the terrible image of Paul, had been tracked to a server in Belarus, one of a thousand rogue sites where outlaws posted and roamed with impunity.
With Sam insisting on driving, they left to run errands.
The first stop was the phone store where they waited in line for an hour to purchase the latest Apple iPhone.
When Chelsea explained that her previous one had been stolen in Europe, the fussy clerk practically demanded that they first go through the many options for finding a lost phone.
Since the real reason could not be discussed, Chelsea, with Sam’s help, managed to stiff-arm the clerk and get on with buying a new one.
From there they drove into central D.C. and stopped at her condo.
She was not eager to go there but had no choice.
Sam offered to stay in the car, but she wanted him with her.
Though she and Paul had lived there for only three months, it was the only home they had shared.
Paul was everywhere; in the happy photos on the credenza and counter, in the Valentine’s cards stuck to the fridge, in the Redskins beer mugs hanging from the cabinet, in the old sneakers and tennis rackets stuffed in a basket near the hall.
Sam did not enter their bedroom and Chelsea did not stay there long.
When she returned to the den, she forced a smile and said, “Okay, not as bad as I feared. I gotta face it sooner than later, so I’m coming here Sunday, for good.”
“Smart move, sis.” After a week in the old place with Justine and Lowell, Sam, too, was ready to get back to his apartment.
He was also tired of sitting around worrying and waiting for the next call or email.
He missed his duties behind his favorite bar and he needed to see his boss anyway.
Chelsea had been there several times and was ready for a burger and fries.
They arrived just before noon and the place was deserted.
Sam pointed to his favorite table and went behind the bar for drinks.
He sipped a draft while Chelsea toyed with a club soda. “It’s great to see you, sis. I mean, we were terrified for a few days.” He had already said this at least twice that morning.
“I’m still terrified, but it’s nice to be back. I can’t imagine what Paul’s going through.”
“I can’t either. But, look, I was in that room for three hours last night, soaking up every word of your story.
You were tough, Chelsea. And I gotta say, I think the FBI knows how to handle this.
You heard Dyer when he said that virtually every foreign kidnapping has a happy ending. It’s all about money.”
“But the Tanners are stretched beyond thin.”
“Here’s the deal, Chelsea. I’ve been checking out stories online.
A different computer I keep as a spare, different emails and stuff.
In some of these cases, the government secretly steps in and pays the money.
They deny it, of course, but they have to.
They pound their chests and say they never negotiate with terrorists and such, but then they secretly cut the deal.
The FBI knows all about it. These guys may be sandbagging because they have to, but I think they’re pretty confident. ”
“I hope so.”
Sam took a pull of his beer, glanced around as if the bar had somehow filled up in the past five minutes, and said, “And there’s something else going on.
You saw their reactions when Dad asked if they had seen another case like this one.
They hesitated. Dyer was a deer in headlights, and he’s a pro.
Then Strong said no. But it was a lie. They’ve seen this before. ”
“So what? How does that help Paul?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out yet.”
—
After lunch, they crossed the Potomac and entered Alexandria.
Sam dropped her off at the curb in front of the Tanners’ home.
He offered to wait, but she said no. She would call an Uber for the ride back to Bethesda.
The idea of riding alone in a car with a stranger was unsettling, but it had to happen sooner or later.
Linzy knew she was coming and met her at the door.
They embraced and held their emotions in check.
Neither had heard anything worth repeating.
They sat on the sofa in the den and held hands for a long time.
She said Fritz was in the garage tidying up the utility room and sorting through what to keep and what to throw away.
Rick had left to buy a load of cardboard boxes.
Obviously, the mood was somber and dark.
They would rent their beloved home for ninety days, then go somewhere else.
They knew the weeks would fly by, like everything else, and they wanted to waste no time.
Fortunately, they were healthy and still had good jobs.
They would survive financially, but Linzy wasn’t so sure about the emotional part of it.
And, if Paul didn’t come home…
Chelsea offered to hang around and help with the packing, but Linzy laughed and said they weren’t ready for that.
As they were learning, one condemned to move had to first throw away the junk, then haul off the surplus, then pack.
After packing, they presumed they would do the cleanup. It was a four-step process.
When Rick returned, Fritz decided to call it a week.
Linzy made a pitcher of lemonade and they sat in the shade of a maple tree by the rear patio and tried to talk politics.
Before Chelsea and Lowell landed at Dulles the day before, the Tanners had a thousand questions about what happened.
But after her three-hour interview last night, they felt as though they knew as much as she did.
Linzy had wept as Chelsea told the story of sitting in the Church of Saint-Sulpice.
Waiting. Listening to the bells. Waiting for her husband.
They had tremendous faith in Paul. After graduating from the Naval Academy, he went through training to become a SEAL, an arduous process. Five thousand started for every one that finished. He made it to the top 10 percent, but was not quite good enough. He pivoted and went to law school.
He was still in great shape and tough as nails.