“This has just come into the news
room,” Clisty reported from the prompter as the eleven o’clock news program
neared sign off. “Authorities tell WFT-TV that a woman came into police
headquarters less than an hour ago. She said that a man had kidnapped her over
eighteen years ago, just like the woman who was the hostage during the recent standoff
with the accused bank robber. For her safety, the police are not using her real
name. They are calling the woman Darla.” Clisty read calmly into the camera
with the same confidence she had before she froze on TV when Faith first
re-appeared.
“Darla told police that she managed to escape,” Dan
Drummond added to the report. “When the man stopped to use the restroom, before
merging onto I-65 N, he forced her to stay in the truck. He told her she would
never be able to get out. She said the doors weren’t supposed to open from the
inside. The only way you could get out was when the motor was still running. He
would open the door, then turn off the engine and take the key with him. She
believed him—she wouldn’t be able to get out of the truck because she had tried
when he filled the gas tank closer to Fort Wayne. It was different at the
intersection of I-65 N. This time he had failed to close his door all the way.”
“That’s right, Dan,” Clisty tag-teamed the story. “She
said she was able to get the driver’s side door open, escape and jump, unseen,
into the back of a truck going east. Luckily, the driver was going all the way back
to Fort Wayne. She climbed out of the truck when the east bound driver slowed
before entering the clover leaf at Goshen Road. The traffic was heavy as she
walked along on the berm of the road. Then, she came upon a patrolman who, with
his lights revolving, pulled a car over. She walked over to the officer, tugged
his pocket and said, “I want to go home.” At police headquarters, they quickly
contacted her parents. With her mother and father present, she told her story
to police.”
“At the time of the attempted abduction, Darla was
able to give the authorities a clue to the town in which the perpetrator probably
lived. However, they were never able to find who had kidnapped her.” Dan smiled
and looked at Clisty.
He’s giving me
the last word. She smiled confidently and put on her professional, neutral,
balanced face. “My investigation will include several threads of this tangled
story: the background of the robbery suspect who was apprehended after the
stand-off with police; the backstory of the hostage he held in the house; the details
of an unsolved kidnapping nearly twenty years ago; and how the information
Darla was able to remind police may answer questions to all facets of this
story. All of these will be the focus of my expanded report in a new segment,
Stories from the Heartland. I look forward to bringing you along as we follow
the trail of clues to a hopeful resolution of this case. From the Fort, this
has been News at Eleven.”
“Great show people,” Becca clapped her hands together
as the network took over the feed.
Jake stood outside the studio window and watched.
With his hands in his pockets, his tall slender frame exposed a leather cross-body
gun holster. His blue eyes flashed brighter each time he looked at Clisty. “Ditto
that,” he agreed as soon as the studio door opened.
“Hi Detective,” Clisty teased. “What brings you here
so late in the evening?”
“You, of course,” he spoke softly and stepped closer,
into her space.
“Then, you are most welcome.” Clisty slipped into the
news room and started to pour a cup of coffee.
“Hold off on that last cup of the day,” Jake warned.
“I’m taking you out for decaf. It’s late.”
“Good idea,” she agreed.
“But first, I brought in my Atlas. Come over here,”
he pointed to a table and spread out the book of maps.
“What’s going on?” Becca asked as she joined them
over the Rand McNally.
Jake was excited as he pointed to the map. “I read
Darla’s old file and found two details that add a lot to our quest.” His index
finger followed U.S. 30, north and west out of Fort Wayne. “She told police,
her kidnapper said, ‘only seventy more miles but first, I’m going to hit the
head.’ So ...” he traced the route with his finger that the man must have taken.
“He was going to take route 65 north-west for seventy miles. He also said
something about their destination being thirty miles west of Chicago.” He
targeted Chicago on the map, and then drew an imaginary line directly west of
the city. “Wheaton, Illinois is ... twenty-eight mile west of Chicago ...
Naperville is thirty miles.” He thumped his finger on the spot between Wheaton
and Naperville and drew a circle. “The place where Faith was held, is somewhere
in this area.” He grabbed Clisty in a bear hug and held on tightly.
“The Freedom Temple,” Becca hammered her fist into
the palm of her hand. “If authorities in that area are aware of the Freedom
Temple, maybe we can close in on the precise area.”
“Yes,” Clisty snapped to attention from her cozy spot
tucked under Jake’s arms. “And, if we can find an elementary school that had a
child named Pooky Jones for only two weeks, we will nail down the
neighborhood.”
“The last name she used, Jones, may be too general to
track,” Jake ran his hand over the back of his neck. “But, the first name, Pooky,
sure isn’t.”
Clisty smiled. “It makes my hair stand up, too. It is
so exciting.”
“We are all tired, Honey,” Jake said. “Let’s start
the computer search and telephone calls early tomorrow morning. It’s not like
Faith is still being held and we have to rescue her. It will do no one any good
if we’re too tired to think clearly.”
“You’re right; you’re right; I know you’re right,
but—“
“No buts about it,” Becca joined in. “I agree with
Jake.”
Clint had listened and watched as the three had
inspected the map. A quiet guy, he turned and reached for his hoodie. “Just
point me in the right direction, so I can aim the camera there. I’m going home
and fall into bed.” He zipped it up and started for the door. “I’ll be here at
the usual time, or whenever you tell me different. Just let me know if we’re
going to leave on a road trip so I can make arrangements for my cat.”
“Bad Kitty?” Becca asked. “I don’t know how you
discipline that cat when you call, ‘Bad Kitty’ to give her a treat.”
“She does seem a little neurotic at times,” he admitted
with a flippant expression. “Bye for now.”
“Are you ready to surrender for the night?” Jake
asked as Clisty continued to study the map.
“I guess,” she drew out slowly. “I’m not sure I’ll be
able to sleep.”
“Cocoa ... warm milk, will help,” he reminded her.
“I make cocoa with water,” she corrected him and
patted her stomach.
“I don’t know what you have to worry about,” Becca
quipped. “You’re so thin, I’m afraid to get a side view of you on camera. You
might disappear altogether.”
“Becca, don’t be silly. You know as well as I do, if
I were to gain ten pounds the station would replace me with a newer, slimmer
model.”
“Can’t get much newer,” she reminded her. “You’re
pretty young yourself. Beside, you know Fort Wayne viewers wouldn’t put up with
that. The station reflects the community’s values of appreciation for hard work
and family ties. You are family, Clisty.”
“Thanks Becca. It’s nice to be reminded.”
“Then, ten pounds it is,” Jake teased. “We’ll stop at
a grocery and pick up some milk. Made with water, it isn’t cocoa at all. That’s
just chocolate flavored water.” He took her by the elbow and started to steer
her out of the news room. “Then, we’ll go to your house and I’ll make a cup for
you.” He stopped. “You do allow milk in your house, I hope.”
“Fat free, of course.”
“I’ll think about that.”
•••••
“But, Jake, whole milk? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
Clisty complained as she took the milk and cocoa mix from the sack he had just
carried in to her apartment.
“Extreme will come when we put the whipped cream on
the top,” he said as he waved the squirt can in the air. He opened several cabinet
doors until he found the pots and pans. “Here we go.”
“Do you really think we’ll be able to find him and
bring him to justice?” Clisty asked as she spooned some cocoa mix into the
cups. Moments later the microwave announced the hot milk.
“Find The Guardian?” Jake poured the steaming hot liquid
into the cups, stirred the cocoa cups and took them over to the coffee table
ottoman. “Sure, I think we’ll find him. But, I don’t know when justice will be
served.”
“What does that mean?” Clisty followed him to the
couch, folded her right leg under her and sat down on it.
“Justice usually takes time, Babe. Not your kind of
time, as measured from one news headline at 6 p.m., to a verdict on the 11
o’clock news.”
“I know. That’s why I’m glad the network is giving me
all the time that I need with the news magazine.” She sipped the hot, bone
warming, sleep inducing liquid and smiled. “This is good.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, stirred his drink again
and drank a little of the sweet brew. There was tense silence for a moment
until Jake asked, “When do you leave for New York?”
“I don’t know,” she sipped noisily. “I guess, the
truth is, I don’t really want to know.” She reached over and took Jake’s hand.
“I just found Faith again and I know we’re going to find her captors. But ... I
also just found you.”
Jake was quiet for a moment. “Have you talked to your
grandmother about praying for you over this network business?” he asked and
looked at the mantle. “That’s your prayer angel, right?”
“No, I haven’t called her yet … I had to talk to you
first,” she sighed as her body reminded her of how tired she was.
“I appreciate that,” he said as he smiled.
They finished their cocoa in silence, except for the
soft music that streamed in the background. A deep baritone was spreading
musical notes on the evening air like warm butter on toast. Jake reached over
and traced gentle figure eights on Clisty’s arm. He took Clisty’s cup, and
placing it on the ottoman he took her hand in his, all with the smooth gestures
that matched the rise and fall of the melody.
“Faith just came home, Clisty, and that is wonderful.
For me personally however, the real miracle is that I just found my home in
you.” She started to speak, but Jake continued. “Now, don’t misunderstand. I’m
not saying—don’t move to New York. This is an opportunity that very few people ever
get. I wouldn’t try to stop you for a minute. I’m just saying, with you in the
east, will there be a place for me in your life?”
“Jake ... I am so torn,” she began.
“Don’t be, Honey. I’d never ask you to choose between
New York City and me. That’s not even a contest and, I guess, I don’t want to
know what the answer would be.” He caressed her hand, silently put his arm
around her and drew her to his shoulder.
Clisty sat up quickly. “No, Jake, I admit I’m torn,
but not between you and New York. The tug of war is between New York and Fort
Wayne. See ...” she turned excitedly toward him and bubbled as she continued,
"since Faith came home, I’m seeing what really matters in my life. Yes, a
job I love is important. But, the people I love, people Mom used to call my
lovelies, are more valuable than anything else.”
“I’m not sure if I fit in as a lovely,” Jake laughed.
“You do, Jake Davis. You are the loveliest of
lovelies,” she laughed as she snuggled back in his arm.
“What I don’t know,” he admitted, “is how can you be
in both places at the same time?” His eyes, cast down like a warrior who had
just surrendered, didn’t meet Clisty’s.
“I can’t Jake. But, that’s all-or-none thinking. Just
because I can’t be in the TV studio and here in my apartment with you, does not
mean there is no solution to this.”
“That’s good enough for me tonight,” he said as he
looked up with a sparkle in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, and surrounded
her with his love.
“This is where I want to be, Jake—in your arms. I
know that. Somehow, and I don’t know how yet, I’m going to figure out how to do
both. It’s an old idea to think I can do everything. But, I can choose where I
spend my time. I do know I’ll have to do one thing at a time.”
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