He slammed his fist against the wall. “Why the hell don’t kids call their parents anymore? Why don’t they answer their phones? Why all this crazy texting shit?”
“Did he say where at Tysons mall?” Michelle asked in a calming voice.
“Starbucks near the Barnes and Noble bookstore.”
“Let’s go.”
The three of them raced out of the room.
CHAPTER
63
EARLIER THAT DAY KATHY BURNETT had stepped out of her house and headed down the street. She had a tennis racket under her arm and a can of balls in her hand. She was planning to hit the balls against the wall in the park three blocks down.
And she wanted to think about Tyler. He had not been at school, and she wondered why. She had gone by his house but there had been no one there, although the Wingos’ truck had been in the driveway.
All the Wingos, it seemed, had disappeared.
She turned the corner and reached a stretch of trees that carried over to the next block. She was so focused she never heard the van pull up next to her, and didn’t hear the door slide open.
The next instant she was off her feet, a hand holding a moistened cloth around her face. She took a deep breath and then fainted. The van door closed and the vehicle drove off. Kathy’s racket and can of balls were all that was left on the sidewalk.
The van drove for well over an hour, winding through back roads and keeping well away from populated areas. Its destination was the little cabin in the woods where nearby Jean Shepherd was buried. The cabin was dark, but there was a car parked outside it.
The van slowed to a stop and a man climbed out, opened the sliding door, lifted out the still-unconscious Kathy, and carried her into the cabin.
She was tied to a chair and blindfolded. Her mouth was not taped shut. They wanted her to talk. And there was no one nearby who would care about her screaming.
The van driver stepped back and put his shoulder against the door into the cabin. Alan Grant drew up a chair and placed it about a foot away from where Kathy sat slumped in her seat. He studied her features, prepared his line of questioning. He was not desperate in his search to find Sam Wingo, at least not yet. But he was running out of time and he hoped Kathy Burnett could provide him a shortcut.
He waited patiently until she came around. Her head flopped from side to side as she regained her senses, and then she held her head up and looked around. Obviously, all she could see was the inside of the cloth covering her face.
Grant touched her on the arm, which made her jump and scream.
He had done that deliberately. He needed her to have a measure of calm, but he also wanted her to feel scared, intimidated, and desperate.
“Who are you?” Kathy said in a quavering voice.
“Someone who just wants to talk, Kathy.”
“Please… please don’t hurt me.”
“No one is going to hurt you, Kathy. I just want to talk. And I need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Tyler Wingo. He’s your friend, isn’t he?”
She nodded, her body shaking so badly the legs of the chair were shifting slightly.
“Well, I want to help him.”
“No, you don’t. Why would you kidnap me and tie me up if you want to help him?”
Grant smiled. She was showing some spirit now. But the fear would return. It always did. “It’s complicated, Kathy. Very complicated. These things are. You know what Sam Wingo is accused of doing?”
“I don’t believe it,” she said heatedly. “He’s a good man. He would never steal that money. He was a soldier.”