Taken E-Book

Jessie O. Roland

• Herausgeber: RWG Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Like action from the Get-Go? Then Taken is right up your alley.

When the former First Lady of the United States is taken off of Main Street in her hometown, how far will the Secret Service go to find and rescue her? To one Agent the answer is to the ends of the Earth. Meet Marsha Jefferson who never plays by the rules.

Meet a sassy Georgia peach who can wrap a man around her little finger and laugh about it, you'll love Misty Graham.

Then there is a newspaper reporter who gets caught in the middle. Is his life really in danger? He certainly thinks so and won't leave his hotel room without protection.

There is a slew of good guys against a host of bad guys. Who will win in the end? Of course, the good guys win, but they need the help of an old-fashioned Wild West posse, after all, it's Wyoming.

Will Lewis MacDonald, the former President, keep his faith in God? It will be tested and retested.

And Beverly, the former First Lady, can she endure her ordeal of captivity and remain faithful, let's hope so.

The exciting conclusion will have you hanging by your fingertips and gasping for air like you're drowning.

Leseprobe

TAKEN

Also, by Jessie O Roland

THE STATE OF THE UNION

RELENTLESS VENGEANCE

TAKEN

Jessie O. Roland

TAKEN

Jessie O. Roland

Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Publisher.

Book design Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.

RWG Publishing

PO Box 596

Litchfield, IL 62056

https://rwgpublishing.com/

Published in the United States of America

Table of Contents

CAST OF CHARCTERS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AKNOWLEDEMENTS

This book is dedicated in loving

Memory of My

Mother and Father

Ada Lee Dawson Roland

And

Oliver Roland

CAST OF CHARCTERS

THE FAMILY

Lewis C. MacDonald-Former President of the United states. Sworn in as President after Washington D. C. was destroyed by a nuclear weapon. Resigned after one year and returned to his ranch in Kerney, Wyoming.

Beverly Macdonald-Former First Lady of the United States. Survived an assassination attempt while First Lady.

Deborah MacDonald-Adopted daughter of Lewis and Beverly MacDonald.

Captain Josh ‘Ghostrider’ MacDonald, Air Force Fighter Pilot. Adopted son of Lewis and Beverly MacDonald. Also, a Pastor of a small country church.

Sheila Aikens MacDonald-Wife of Josh MacDonald.

Monica Aiken-Four-year-old daughter of Sheila. Josh’s stepdaughter.

Alice Farmer-Mother of Beverly MacDonald. Widow of a slain Sheriff’s Deputy.

Grandpa Alfred Williams-Biological Grandfather of Josh and Deborah MacDonald.

SECRET SERVICE AGENTS

Marsha Jefferson-Former Birmingham, Alabama Police Officer. Fifteen-year Veteran of the Secret Service. In charge of the security detail of the MacDonald family.

Linda Compton-First Lady security detail. Now in charge of the Presidential security detail.

Keith Arnold Barber-Secret Service Agent. Former Deputy of the Kerney County Sheriff’s Office.

Misty Graham-Secret Service Agent stationed in Atlanta, Georgia.

Tommy Wilcox-Secret Service Agent. Assigned to MacDonald security team in Kerney, Wyoming.

Pat Simpson-Secret Service Agent on the MacDonald security team in Kerney, Wyoming.

Sandra Clark-Secret Service Agent on the MacDonald security team in Kerney, Wyoming.

Lamar Davidson-Secret Service Agent assigned to the Kerney Field Office. Not assigned to the MacDonald security.

William Jacoby-Secret Service Agent assigned to Casper, Wyoming Field Office.

Robert Ashton-Secret Service Agent assigned to Laramie, Wyoming Field Office.

RETIRED SECRET SERVICE AGENTS

Ron McIntyre-Presidential Security Detail Chief for President MacDonald and his successor.

Dean Gilmore-First Lady’s security detail, then Presidential detail for the current President. Owns a security company for celebrities.

Phillip West-Security team member for MacDonald family. Now a technical advisor to movie studios.

FBI AGENTS

Vince Gable-Assistant Director of the FBI.

Julio Montes-Assigned to the Casper, Wyoming Field Office.

Jim Wainwright-Assigned to the Laramie, Wyoming Field Office.

Steve Peterson-Assigned to the Cheyenne, Wyoming Field Office.

Sidney Martin-Assigned to the Cody, Wyoming Field Office.

James Reid-Former member of Task Force 43. Stationed in Miami, Florida.

Curtis Ryan-Former member of Task Force 43. Stationed in Richmond, Virginia.

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

Juanita Hernandez-Former Vice President under Lewis MacDonald.

VICE-PRESIDENT

Randy Thompson-Became Vice President when MacDonald resigned and Hernandez became President.

U.S. ARMY

Colonel Dexter Jenkins-Commander of U.S. Army Ranger School in Fort Benning, Georgia. Served with Lewis MacDonald in Bosnia. Special Liaison Officer for MacDonald and current President before returning to active Army duty.

Sergeant Jerome ‘Slick’ Washington-Instructor at Ranger School, Fort Benning, Georgia. Born and raised in Kerney County, Wyoming.

OTHERS

Scorpion-Iranian Agent serving life in prison after failed attempt on the former First family. Captured by Secret Service in Kerney, Wyoming. Converted to Christianity after capture.

Toby Burke-Investigative Reporter. Syndicated Jounalist for over one hundred small town newspapers for the Independence Chronical.

Richard Turner-Pastor for Mountain View Free Will Baptist church where the MacDonalds are members.

The Kerney County Posse-A volunteer organization to help keep the former First family safe. Thwarted the Iranian attack on the MacDonalds.

Wes Crandell-Chief of Police of the City of Kerney.

Robert Askew-Sheriff of Kerney County, Wyoming.

CHAPTER ONE

S

ecret Service Agent Marsha Jefferson looked out the back door of the rental house she shared with three other female agents. Cloudy, but there was no rain in the forecast. A chilly wind was blowing from the northwest, but that was expected in Wyoming. She decided she would wear a heavy jacket today.

The coffee was almost finished. She didn’t wait for the drip coffee pot to stop gurgling. She quickly poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a bran muffin and ate it while standing at the kitchen counter. She savored the coffee, sipping slowly on it as it cooled down.

Marsha glanced at her watch. It was almost seven and time for the others to get up. There were never more than three ladies here at the rental house at any given time. One female agent was always at the MacDonald ranch for the First Lady if she needed anything.

Sandra Clark came in rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and yawning.

“Morning,” said Marsha.

“You’re up early,” said Clark.

“Got to go to the Command Center to finish those reports,” said Marsha.

“Better you than me.”

“I knocked off around ten. Shouldn’t take but a couple of hours.”

“You leaving now?”

“Yeah, everybody is working today.”

“That’s a Saturday for you.”

“Well, they are going in two different directions. He’s buying cows and she’s getting her hair done. When I get to the ranch I am going to let Riley come back and get some sleep.”

Riley Madison was the fourth agent.

Clark glanced at the schedule board hanging on the side of the fridge.

“You going to the Cowboy Action Shooting this afternoon?”

Marsha shook her head ‘No.’

“Starts at twelve. I’ll never make it in time. Those reports have to be faxed today.”

“You might can make the bar-b-que. It’s not until three,” said Clark.

“I would like to go. As a matter of fact, someone from the Secret Service should be there every month. They really help us out.”

“Tell me about it. If it wasn’t for the Kerney County Posse we would have lost the whole family,” said Clark.

“And six to eight of us, maybe ten.”

“I don’t have to be there until one o’clock. We should be back at the ranch around five,” said Clark.

“Sounds about right.”

“We’ll let Jennifer sleep late.”

Marsha finished her coffee before answering. “She will probably go for her jog around eight.”

“I might run with her, get the old circulation going,” said Clark.

“Don’t be late,” said Marsha.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. You may want to ask Mrs. Beverly if she plans on working out with us Tuesday afternoon.”

“Don’t have to. She has it on her schedule,” said Marsha.

“I wonder if any of the other First Ladies ever took Judo classes with the Secret Service Agents?”

“I doubt it. Headquarters would probably frown on it.”

“Yeah, we are supposed to protect them, not torture them,” said Clark.

“She’s not just any First Lady, though. She’s hangs right in there.”

At the door Marsha said over her shoulder “Don’t be late.”

Twenty miles away Lewis C. MacDonald, former President of the United States, was drinking a cup of coffee and reading the local paper. The Kerney County Bugle. It was a weekly edition and Lewis like it because it had very little politics, only local.

There was a tap on the back door. Lewis opened the door for the Secret Service Agent.

“Mr. President, we are ready if you are.”

“Give me just a minute.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the agent.

“You want a cup?” asked Lewis.”

“No, thank you, Sir.”

“Who won last night?”

“Kerney County by five.”

“Did you get to go?”

“No Sir, Agent Jefferson told me they won.”

“She loves basketball, doesn’t she?”

“Yes Sir, she played college ball at Auburn.”

The agent went back outside. Lewis grabbed his coat and baseball cap from the coat rack by the back door and went into the living room.

“Beverly.”

“You leaving?”

“Yeah,” as he walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

“Love you,” said Lewis.

“Love you, too.”

“I should be back before you, you want me to cook supper?”

“That would be great,” said Beverly.

“You getting you hair cut?”

“Just a trim.”

“I can cut it for you,” said Lewis.

“Lewis, you cannot cut my hair.”

“If I can get the Secret Service to hold you down, I can.”

Beverly laughed.

“Love you,” said Lewis, again.

“Love you, too.”

Lewis finished his coffee and headed out the door. Beverly had a few hours to kill so she decided to bake two dozen chocolate chip cookies to mail to Monica in Florida. Beverly smiled when she thought about Monica, her four-year-old granddaughter. She quietly said a prayer for Sheila, her daughter in law, seven months pregnant. So far there were no complications.

At two o’clock Beverly was ready to go. When the three-car convoy pulled into the driveway Beverly went outside. She noticed Marsha Jefferson’s black SUV parked next to the barn where the Command Center was located. She walked that way and when she got to the barn door she called out to Marsha. Marsha stepped outside.

“You sure are putting in a lot of hours.”

“Yes Ma’am, maybe another hour and I will be finished.”

“Don’t forget church tomorrow.” Marsha leaned up against her black SUV. She was one-inch shy of six feet and Beverly was one-inch shy of five six with her shoes on. Marsha didn’t want to be looking down on the former First Lady. Marsha didn’t know if Beverly realized that she tried to be eye to eye with her. Beverly was the only person on the face of the earth that Marsha would do that for. Marsha had a deep respect for and would stop a bullet for her. She had proven that four years ago when an Iranian agent had tried to kill her. Marsha still had the scars and wore them like a badge of honor.

“I won’t. I am looking forward to the Easter Cantata.”

“Me, too. I love Easter. It’s my favorite time of the year. Almost all of the flowers are blooming. Winter is over and the pastures are turning green.

“It’s such a beautiful time for everyone to remember that Jesus was crucified to pay the price for our sins. Everything is new in the spring. Aren’t you glad you dedicated your life to Jesus?” asked Beverly.

“Yes Ma’am, and I thank God every day for that saving grace.”

“Gotta go,” said Beverly.

As a security measure the Secret Service took a different route every time the MacDonald’s took a trip into Kerney. The normal twenty-minute trip could take thirty or forty minutes. When Lewis resigned as President almost four years ago Beverly thought they would just resume a normal life. That was not to be. Two years ago, if Beverly needed to visit the beauty salon only one car was used with three agents. Beverly thought that was ridiculous. Who would want to harm them. Lewis wasn’t in office anymore and wasn’t involved in any politics at all. He just wanted to be left alone and live a normal life.

Then an Iranian terror group had infiltrated the United States and tried to kill her entire family. They had come close, too close. Six of the terrorists were killed a mile from the ranch. One Iranian wearing a suicide vest had made it to one hundred yards from the vehicle the MacDonald’s were in. A twenty-six-year-old woman was captured that was wearing the suicide vest. They were lucky that night. Actually, it was Christmas morning, just after midnight.

After that a security assessment was conducted of the ranch and the MacDonald’s themselves. That assessment took six months. Changes were made six months after that.

Now there was a Secret Service office in Kerney. A twelve- agent unit was stationed there. The security for the family stayed as it was, sixteen agents plus Marsha Jefferson. Beverly didn’t even know who the agents in town were. She knew all of them at the ranch and was on a first name basis with those agents. All of them had eaten dinner or supper with the MacDonald’s at one time or another.

What Beverly had once thought as a waste of money changed after she found out the Iranians intended to behead her entire family and put it on social media. It scared her to death. There was no way she could put a price on the safety of her family. It gave her a sense of security knowing her family was safe.

Secret Service Agent Jennifer Monroe was riding shotgun, both literally and figuratively. She was in the front seat next to the window. The seat young people, especially teenagers, called the shotgun seat. It was a reference to the days of stagecoaches and Wells Fargo guards who carried shotguns. The man next to the driver. She wondered if kids who put dubs on riding shotgun even knew where the phrase came from, probably not. Yes, she was in the seat next to the driver and she had a shotgun. She had a very special shotgun and she knew how to use it. There probably weren’t a hundred like it in the world. Some people might call it a street sweeper. Twelve shot, twelve gauge, automatic with a twelve-inch barrel. It had a selector switch on the frame. A three-position switch: safe, semi, or full auto. For now, it was on safe. She was also in the middle vehicle. ‘The vehicle.’ It was called ‘The vehicle’ by the Secret Service because that was the vehicle the protected was in. Beverly was seated in the back seat of an armored SUV. The two agents in the car with her never chatted to each other and only spoke when spoken to. The two agents had to be alert at all times, it was their job and her life depended on it.

The three-car convoy approached Kerney from the north on Casper Street. Casper Street had no sidewalk on the east side of the street. There was no room to park. The street was against the building. The convoy came to a stop and then proceeded through the intersection one vehicle at a time not allowing room for another vehicle to get between the black SUV’s.

The convoy would go around the square and approach the beauty salon from the east on Main Street. The beauty salon, ‘Courtney on the Square,’ was the last shop on the right butting up to Casper Street. The sidewalk on Main Street was elevated almost two feet with a twenty-foot handicap ramp adjacent to the sidewalk. No parking spaces were near the ramp. Ten feet from the end of the ramp was a handicap parking space.

As the convoy approached the beauty salon Jennifer Monroe noticed no one was out and about on the square. Almost every store had closed at one o’clock. The town looked deserted. She knew Courtney on the Square also closed at one and would reopen when the former First Lady arrived. It was best if there were no other customers in the salon. The owner had a one-bedroom apartment in the back of the shop. Jennifer also knew she was thirty years old, divorced and had an infant son, nine months old. Courtney had been vetted by the Secret Service three years ago. In those three years Beverly had visited the salon twelve times.

The lead SUV pulled into the first diagonal parking spot next to the handicap parking space, seventy five feet away. ‘The vehicle,’ the middle SUV that Beverly was in didn’t pull into the adjacent slot. It pulled in and straddled the next two slots. The third SUV pulled into the fourth parking slot. The Secret Service wanted plenty of room if they needed to make a quick exit. ‘The vehicle’ left its engine running.

From the backseat Beverly said, “Now we wait.”

“Yes Ma’am, it will only take a few minutes.”

Beverly saw Secret Service Agent Sandra Clark and Patrick Simpson get out of the lead vehicle and look around. Clark spoke into a microphone attached to her wrist. Then Tommy Wilcox got out of the third SUV, the trail car. The three agents started moving towards Courtney’s, one hundred feet away. One agent was watching the stores on the right. One agent was looking over his shoulder to see what was behind them. One agent was looking straight ahead.

Jennifer Monroe was looking in the side mirror and monitoring the TV screen which had a camera facing the rear of the vehicle. She could move a joy stick and move the cameras to different angles. She saw no one.

Beverly saw Sandra Clark tap on the beauty salon door. A few seconds later Sandra pushed on the door to enter. Agents Wilcox and Simpson followed Clark into the salon.

Jennifer knew the apartment in the back was only four rooms. Eight hundred square feet. She had been in the advance team a few times. There were no hiding places. The biggest concern was the back door of the apartment, which was in the alley. One agent would stay by the back door, which was locked.

Three minutes later Jennifer got the all clear. She put the shotgun in its rack and locked it into place. She got out of the vehicle and opened the door for Beverly. Beverly got out and said, “Thank you.” Roger Ford, the driver, got out leaving the engine running in case a quick evacuation became necessary. Jeff Webb got out of the trail vehicle.

The four of them used the steps to get to the sidewalk. Then the three agents and Beverly started walking briskly towards Courtney’s.

Roger Ford was between the sidewalk and Beverly. The locals had nicknamed him ‘Sidekick’. Jeff Webb was behind the other agents and Beverly. His nickname was ‘Linebacker’. Jennifer Monroe was in front and was nicknamed ‘Birddog’.

The three advance team members were nicknamed ‘Larry,’ ‘Curly’ and ‘Moe’ like the three stooges.

Sixty feet from Courtney’s a man stepped out of the Thrift Shop next door. He had a cell phone to his ear in his left hand. In his right hand was a metal cane. The cane had four small legs at the bottom. The cane could stand upright on its own. The man never glanced towards the four people. He walked away from the group towards Casper Street.

Jennifer Monroe slowed the pace. She put her hand in her ‘purse’, which actually was not a purse. She had nothing personal in the ‘purse’ but it did contain a Forty Caliber automatic, fully loaded with six extra magazines, a spare cell phone and a satellite phone. She put her hand around the pistols grip. She was also wearing a shoulder holster with her service weapon. No one notices a woman with her hand in her purse. Secret Service Agents aren’t trained like other cops. A cop can approach a crowd and pick out a handful of potential threats. To the Secret Service everyone is a threat. To Jennifer Monroe this man was a threat. She slowed even more.

The man approached the curb of Casper Street. A white pickup truck came to a stop at the stop sign then turned right, away from the agents. Another threat. After the pickup was fifty yards away Jennifer focused on the man on the curb, the nearest threat.

Jennifer was now at the door of the thrift shop. She noticed the sign in the window.

HOURS

THURSDAY AND FRIDAY

9:00-5:00

SATURDAY

9:00-1:00

Jennifer tried the door knob, locked. She looked through the window. The lights were on, but she saw no one. She slowed down.

The man was still at the curb fifty feet away. She didn’t hear the man say, “Now.” The pickup truck was one hundred yards away now. She saw movement from the passenger side of the truck. She saw a flash. The bullet hit her in the forehead. Jennifer Monroe was clinically dead before the bullet exited the back of her skull. Her knees buckled and she fell forward. Beverly thought she had stumbled and tried to catch her. She couldn’t get there in time. Then Beverly heard the shot.

Roger Ford, the ‘Sidekick’, was looking over his shoulder. A bullet hit him in his left temple. He fell into Beverly knocking her to the sidewalk.

Jeff Webb, the ‘Linebacker’ was struck in back of the head. He pitched forward. All three were dead before they hit the sidewalk.

Beverly screamed. The man at the curb turned and ran towards Beverly. Beverly screamed “Help me.” The man didn’t slow down when he passed Courtney’s door. He shoved the metal cane between the glass and the push bar. The small legs at the bottom was to the left of the door jamb preventing the door from opening.

Beverly screamed, “Help me.” The man was at her side now. He shoved a stun gun at her and fifty thousand volts went through her body. Beverly went limp. She never heard a van pull up, the side door already open. The man picked her up, went five feet and threw her into the back of the van.

Secret Service Agent Tommy Wilcox was in the reception area of the beauty salon. He saw the man with the cane limp by talking on a cell phone. He noticed the man was wearing a green jacket and jeans, a black cowboy hat on his head. He had a full beard. He saw him stop at the curb for a few seconds. Then he heard the gunshots. He turned to Agent Clark and yelled, “Gunshots.” He turned back in time to see the man shove the cane in between the glass and the push bar of the door.

Secret Service Agent Sandra Clark was in the second room where the customer got their hair cut or colored. She headed for the door. She tried to open it. Then she saw the metal cane. She yelled, “Simpson.” Secret Service Agent Pat Simpson was at the back door of the apartment. He ran towards the front. He saw, along with Wilcox and Clark, a white van speed by and turn right on Casper street heading north.

Wilcox picked up a chair and tried to throw it through the window. It bounced off leaving only a long crack. Simpson pulled his service weapon and yelled, “Stand back.” He emptied his clip in a large oval.

Courtney screamed, “My baby.” The baby started screaming. Wilcox picked up another chair and threw it at the window. This time it went through. Courtney screamed again. The baby was screaming. Clark yelled at Courtney to get in the back. Courtney didn’t hesitate. She ran to the back and grabbed the screaming baby then locked herself in the bathroom.

Wilcox and Simpson each picked up another chair and broke more of the window out. All three went through the window. Clark ran to the curb of Casper Street. She didn’t see a van. From the time of the gunshots until they were outside one minute had elapsed.

Wilcox and Simpson ran to the three agents. It only took seconds to determine that all three were dead. Simpson yelled to Clark, “Call it in.”

Both men got into their vehicles and tried to give chase but the van was not to be seen. Clark punched in a number on her speed dial. She had never in her fifteen-year career had to call this number.

“This is Agent Sandra Clark. I am declaring a Prairie Fire Emergency. Three agents down. ‘Mustang’ has been taken, I repeat, I am declaring a Prairie Fire Emergency. Three agents down. ‘Mustang’ has been taken.”

Clark knew she was speaking to the Secret Service Headquarters in Independence, Missouri. She knew every agent would be receiving the voice mail within minutes, followed by a text message. What Clark had called in was a coded message. ‘Prairie’ meant the MacDonald’s, ‘fire’ meant gunfire, ‘Emergency’ meant all agents needed to be notified. ‘Three agents down’ simply meant the number of agents that were casualties. ‘Mustang’ was the code name for Beverly.

Secret Service Agent Sandra Clark knew not to go near the bodies. It was now a crime scene.

“Oh God, what are we going to do?”

Beverly woke up. She tried to scream but couldn’t. A strip of duct tape had been placed over her mouth. She couldn’t see. A pillow case was over her head. Someone jerked her boots off. Then her clothes were being yanked off. She tried to fight them but there were too many and they were too strong. She felt something being placed around her ankles and wrists. She could tell the vehicle made a left and then another left. Then she could tell they turned onto a gravel surface, then they stopped and backed up. Beverly didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious. She heard a car door being opened and shut, then another and another. She heard a sound she recognized as a side door of a van. At least four people picked her up and carried her a few feet and then Beverly smelled something and knew where she was. It was the smell of rotting vegetables. The stench was overwhelming. She was afraid she was going to throw up. With the duct tape over her mouth she could drown in her own vomit. She tried not to inhale. She knew she was next to one of the dumpsters at a grocery store, but which grocery store?

Beverly was tossed like a sack of potatoes into the trunk of a car. Someone got in with her. She heard the trunk slam shut. The person in the trunk with her said, “You move and I will kill you. You understand?”

Beverly nodded her head.

Secret Service Agent Tommy Wilcox was pushing the envelope. He was driving as fast as he dared in town. Once he was outside the city he opened the SUV up. He didn’t look at the speedometer. He was looking for a white van. If the van was on Casper highway he would catch it in a matter of minutes.

Secret Service Agents are some of the best drivers in the world. They have been put through hours and hours of training. They can make cars do things the manufacturer would never dream their cars could do. Ten miles out of town he knew the van was not on Casper highway. He took a right and headed east before taking another right. Five miles later he was on Laramie highway. He was heading back to Kerney. If the van wasn’t driving at a high rate of speed he might be in front of them. He saw a white van approaching. Wilcox turned his SUV to the left, hit the brakes, skidding sideways down the highway. He came to a stop, jumped out with his weapon drawn and yelled, “Out of the car now! I want to see your hands. Get out now!”

Two teenage girls got out, arms in the air. One of the girls was jumping up and down like she had to pee. Wilcox approached the girls and looked in the van. The van was empty.

“You can go now.”

“I got to pee,” said the girl, who was still jumping up and down.

“Well, go pee,” said Wilcox as he pointed to the woods beside the road.

The girl ran. Wilcox ran, also. He moved his SUV out of the vans path and waited on the girl to finish and get back in the van. When the van was past he called Simpson.

Secret Service Agent Pat Simpson was using a different method. He wasn’t driving very fast. He was using a grid method driving east and west going down each street in the north part of town. Very few houses had attached garages, mostly carports. He was only going ten miles per hour. He only saw one van and it had ladders on a rack on top of the van, a painter.

Simpson headed back to the crime scene. As he approached Main Street he saw a white van and a white truck behind the grocery store next to the dumpster. His phone rang.

Beverly kept telling herself to stay calm. She didn’t know what kind of car she was in. She knew it had a big trunk. It wasn’t crowded even with the other person in there with her. When the car made a turn, she could tell which way they turned because of the way her body would shift in the opposite direction. Her eyes were closed. She was concentrating on trying to figure out where she was. They crossed the railroad tracks. She knew where she was. The other grocery store was not near any railroad tracks.

Beverly didn’t know that from the time she heard the shots until she was thrown in the trunk only two minutes had elapsed.

Secret Service Agent Marsha Jefferson was faxing the last of her reports when her cell phone rang and the landline phone in the Command Center rang at the same time. She glanced at the caller I.D., it was ten zeros. She knew what it meant. Someone, somewhere in the Secret Service was declaring a nationwide emergency.

She picked up the landline phone and listened. She could here Sandra Clark’s recorded message. Marsha recognized Sandra’s voice right away. A chill went down her spine. She said to herself, “Oh God.”

Marsha reached over the desk and hit the panic button. The panic button was the emergency siren. The siren was blaring so loud it seemed to rattle her lungs. She knew all the agents at the ranch could hear it. She released the button and said over the two-way radio on the desk, “Secure the ranch. North and south check points block the road. Don’t let anyone in except other agents and ‘Maverick.’ ‘Maverick’ was Lewis MacDonald.

She punched in a number on her speed dial. She had never used the number before. It was the same number Sandra Clark had used.

“This is Prairie, secure ‘Maverick’ now. I repeat, this is Prairie, secure ‘Maverick’ now.” She ran to her SUV. Kerney was twenty minutes away. She believed she could make it in eight.

When Wilcox answered his cell phone Simpson said, “I believe I have found the white van.”

“Where?”

“Behind the grocery store two blocks west of the beauty salon.”

“Anybody in it?”

“Can’t tell, I am watching it from one block over.”

“I’ll be there in three minutes.”

“I’ll wait on you.”

Three minutes later both agents approached the van from two different directions, weapons drawn.

“This is it. That’s her clothes.”

Simpson nodded his head in agreement before saying, “She could be anywhere by now.”

Lewis C. MacDonald was fifty miles away. He was haggling over the price of twenty cows and a bull. Lewis knew the seller. He had bought cows from him before. The haggling was good natured. Both men knew it and enjoyed it.

“What’s your rock bottom price?”

“I gave that to you twenty minutes ago.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Come on Lewis, you know they are good breeding stock.”

Lewis smiled and nodded his head. He stroked his chin like he was thinking.

The rancher glanced at the six Secret Service Agents twenty feet away. All six had a cell phone to their ear.

“You hear that boys, he’s thinking.”

Twenty seconds later Lewis and the six agents were racing away in three black SUV’s leaving the rancher standing there with his hands on his hips.

“What in the world!”

Sandra Clark was at the corner of Casper Street and Main Street when she heard the siren. She glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes had passed since the shooting. She knew the city of Kerney only had about two dozen officers. A police cruiser skidded to a stop directly in front of Courtney’s on the Square. The officer glanced towards the bodies. Then he got out of the cruiser with a roll of yellow ‘Police line do not enter’ tape. Sandra Clark met him by the cruiser.

“Ma’am.”

“I’m Secret Service.”

“I know, Ma’am.”

“They are Secret Service Agents.”

“Yes, I know, Ma’am.”

“Where is the Chief and the Sheriff?”

“They are on the way,” said the Police Officer.

“Were they at the Kerney County Posse bar-b-que?”

“Yes Ma’am, and over a hundred people are out looking for her.”

“I’m afraid she’s gone.”

“We’ll find her, Ma’am.”

“Dear God, I hope you are right.”

Lewis was in the back seat of ‘The vehicle’ as the three SUV’s sped away.

“What’s going on?”

Neither agent answered.

“Is it Beverly?”

Each agent glanced at the other but did not answer.

“Oh God.”

Marsha Jefferson was two blocks north of the square when her two-way radio said, “We found the van.” She knew Wilcox was letting Clark know about the van.

Clark answered, “Where?”

“Behind the grocery store two blocks west of the square.”

Marsha made a right turn, went two blocks, made a left turn and then made another left at the Sheriff’s office. She could see Simpson and Wilcox standing by the van. Marsha didn’t pull into the gravel parking lot. She pulled off to the side of the road and got out of her vehicle. Her mind raced back to the three agents. There was nothing she could do for them now. Her priority was Beverly.

Beverly kept telling herself to remain calm and concentrate. Her body shifted to the right. The car was making a left-hand turn. The car was now on a dirt road. They crossed the railroad tracks again. If they crossed a wooden bridge in about two minutes she would know where she was. Two minutes later she could hear the unmistakable sound of the wooden planking. Beverly couldn’t believe her senses were as acute as they were. She could smell, hear and feel better than she had ever remembered. She could smell a woman’s perfume. The person in the trunk with her was a woman.

If the car comes to a stop in five minutes they would have to turn left or right. ‘Please let them turn left’ she thought to herself. Five minutes later the car came to a stop and turned left.

Marsha went to the van. Wilcox said, “It’s her clothes and boots.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw her before she left the ranch.”

Marsha saw a man’s watch with a wide leather band, the kind bikers wore a long time ago.

“Her Daddy’s watch.”

“She never took it off.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Marsha put it in a plastic bag and put it in her pocket.

“I want to give it back to her.”

Both men nodded their head.

“We’ll find her,” said Wilcox.

“Who’s coming to process the van?”

“FBI from Cheyenne,” said Simpson.

Marsha nodded her head.

“Stay here until they get here.”

Simpson pointed to the white Ford pick-up.

“The back window has a sliding vent. You could shoot out of it.”

“Where is the truck from?”

“It has an Oregon license plate and the van is from Washington State.”

“Bet both are stolen,” said Marsha.

“You’re probably right.”

“I need to go to the other crime scene,” said Marsha.

“It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Didn’t figure it would be.”

Secret Service Agent Linda Compton checked the President’s schedule. According to the schedule no one was in President Juanita Hernandez’s office. She didn’t knock. She stepped in and approached her desk. The President was on the phone. She looked at Compton and motioned her to a chair. Compton remained standing.

“Let me let you go,” then hung up the phone.

“Madam President, Beverly MacDonald has been abducted.”

“Dear God.”

“I knew you would want to know.”

“How did it happen?”

“Right now, we don’t know. Three agents were killed.”

“At the ranch?”

“No Ma’am, on the square in Kerney. She had an appointment to get her hair cut.”

“Is Lewis alright?”

“Yes Ma’am, he is on his way back to the ranch.”

“I want the Director and the Assistant Director in my office immediately.”

“The Director is at a doctor’s appointment. The Assistant Director is on his way now.”

“Good, he’s the man I want to see.”

Deborah MacDonald was in Boise, Idaho painting a wall mural. The adopted daughter of Lewis and Beverly MacDonald was a professional artist. She traveled a lot, painting murals on buildings. She figured she had about another week to go on this one and then she could return to Kerney. She stepped back to look at the colors and to mix some more.

The Secret Service Agent with her said, “We have to go.”

“Why?”

“There is an emergency.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s your Mother.”

“What’s wrong with my Momma?”

“She’s been abducted.”

The Assistant Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was ushered into the President’s office by Linda Compton.

“Director Gable, as you know Beverly MacDonald has been abducted by someone. I want her found.”

Vince Gable nodded his head.

“We will do our best Madam President.”

“That task force that you were in charge of that located the man that conspired with the Iranian Government to blow up Washington D.C., can you reestablish that task force?”

“Yes Ma’am, a few have retired, but we can do it.”

“How long to get it in motion?”

“Twenty-four hours,” said Gable.

“Make it happen.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Beverly was sure the car had just passed her Grandparents old house. She was sure of it. She had been there thousands of times. Both had passed away not long after she and Lewis got married.

She had to remain alert because beyond her Grandparents house was not as familiar to her. She never had a reason to go much further than there. Beverly prayed that they wouldn’t go far. They didn’t. The car stopped. The trunk opened. She was jerked out of the trunk. She heard someone say, “You know what to do.” She heard someone else say, “Yeah.”

The car pulled away. Four people picked her up and started walking. Someone said, “Open the gate.” She heard the gate being opened. She could hear sheep. They sounded like they were all around her. They were close enough that she could smell them. Someone said, “Hurry up before someone comes by.”

They were walking uphill, she could tell. Light was coming through the pillow case over her head then it seemed as though the sun was partially blocked every few seconds. She could smell pine trees. They were in the woods. A few minutes later they laid her on the ground. The ground was cold and Beverly was naked. She started shivering. She heard someone say, “Let’s go.” They picked her up again after taking a break. “Watch the water.” Beverly could smell stagnant water close by. She heard a metal sound, like a metal door being opened. Then they were walking down stairs. Someone said, “Don’t drop her.” She heard another metal door open and then close behind her. Then they laid her down on something soft. A mattress that smelled very musty. Someone said, “Cut her loose.” Then she felt something cutting near her wrists and ankles. Then she was set up. The pillow case was pulled off her head. One of her captors ripped the duct tape off her mouth. Beverly screamed.

Beverly was looking at four people wearing ski mask. Two were larger than the other two. Beverly thought the smallest one was a woman but wasn’t sure. Then a door made of iron was slammed shut. It was like she was in jail. The smaller of the four said, “There is a chemical toilet and seven-days-worth of food and water on the shelves. Put on those coveralls and socks.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

It fell on deaf ears. The metal door was slammed shut, and then another. Beverly started praying and crying.

Marsha had been at the scene where three of her agents had been murdered for five minutes when the Sheriff of Kerney County arrived. The Chief of Police was seconds behind him.

The two officers ducked under the yellow police tape and approached Agents Clark and Jefferson.

“Sheriff, Chief, thank you for your help. I understand you have blocked as many roads as you can in this short time,” said Marsha.

The Sheriff spoke up, “We only had three deputies on duty at the time. We’ve called in everyone.”

“How about you Chief?”

“Two were on duty. We’ve called in everyone. We only have ten officers on the Force.”

Marsha nodded her head.

“We found the van that was used. It’s behind the grocery store two blocks west of here. I have two agents guarding it now. Are there any video cameras on the square?”

“Four on the courthouse. I’ll have to call for someone to get that for you,” said the Sheriff.

Marsha looked at the Chief of Police, “How many businesses have video?”

“I don’t know. Some do, and some don’t.”

“Can you get someone to call all the business owners and tell them to come here?”

“I’ll get the dispatcher to call everyone. Maybe we will get lucky.”

“I just hope we haven’t run out of time. They can be out of the county in twenty minutes,” said Marsha.

“How did they do it?” asked the Sheriff.

“I don’t know. Agent Monroe was shot from the front. Agent Webb was shot in the back of the head and Agent Ford was shot in the left temple.”

“So, the gunshots came from three different directions?” asked the Chief of Police looking around the square.

“We believe there were three shooters. Agent Ford would normally check behind the group by looking over his shoulder.”

“Ah, the ‘Sidekick’.”

“I believe the locals call him that,” said Marsha.

“One of our agents saw the person who grabbed her. Medium height and build, wearing a black cowboy hat and green jacket. He had a full beard,” said Agent Clark.

“Ma’am you just described half the men in Kerney county,” said the Sheriff.

“I know.”

“Let’s go talk to the owner of the salon,” said Marsha.

“You think she saw something?”

“No.”

“Well, why do you want to talk to her? I can vouch for her.   She had nothing to do with this,” said the Sheriff.

“Didn’t say she did but there is something I need to find out.”

“Let me talk to her first,” said the Sheriff.

“She related to you?” asked Marsha.

“First cousin.”

“I see.”

The Sheriff, the Chief of Police, Sandra Clark and Marsha used the opening in the window to get inside. They could hear the baby crying. As they approached the bathroom door the crying got louder. The Sheriff knocked on the door and tried the door knob. It was locked.

“Courtney, it’s me, the Sheriff, open the door.”

“No!” came from the other side.

“Courtney.”

“No, no, no, no, I am not coming out.”

“Courtney, we need to talk to you.”

“No!”

Marsha said, “Excuse me,” and went around the Sheriff. She knocked on the door.

“Courtney, this is Marsha Jefferson. Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, don’t kick the door down, I am coming out.”

The door opened. All the color was drained out of Courtney’s face. The baby was screaming. Marsha put her hand in front of the baby’s face, snapped her fingers, pointed at the baby and said, “Be quiet.”

The baby quit crying and laid his head on Courtney’s shoulder and went to sleep.

“Courtney, did you tell anyone Mrs. MacDonald had an appointment for three o’clock?”

“No, I know better than that,” wiping the tears away.

“Do you have an appointment book?”

“Sure.”

“Where is it?”

“On the front counter.”

“Could someone, a customer, have seen her name in the appointment book?”

“Her name is not in the book.”

“Show me.”

“It just has ‘Special.’”

“Special?”

“Yeah, anytime someone wants a special, I write that down.”

“So, you write ‘Special’ for other people, too?”

“Yeah, sometimes it may take three or four hours and if you have other customers you might get distracted and ruin someone’s hair,” said Courtney.

“Show me the appointment book.”

“It’s up front.”

In the front room, Courtney saw the chairs and the shattered window.

“My God, what happened in here?”

“Our agents had to get out. The door was blocked.”

“How was the door blocked?”

“The man that kidnapped Mrs. MacDonald blocked the door.”

“Mrs. Beverly was kidnapped? Why would someone do that?”

“That’s what we are trying to find out,” said the Sheriff.

The appointment book had ‘Special’ for three o’clock. Other slots had ‘Special’, mostly on a Friday or Saturday.

“How did she make the appointment? Did she call you or what?”

“She told me.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, three or four weeks ago.”

“Where did you see her?”

Marsha knew Beverly didn’t come to town very often.

“She was at the Broken Spoke Hotel. It was for the animal shelter. A group of ladies were discussing how to raise money. I gave ten dollars.”

“I remember that. And she asked you to make an appointment for her?”

“Yeah, she said the Saturday before Good Friday. I had to look at the calendar because I didn’t know when Good Friday was. You know it changes every year.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone. I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you. How many people were in the dining room when she asked you about the appointment?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, maybe forty people.”

“Was it possible that one of those people could have overheard the conversation?”

“I don’t know, I guess so.”

“Thank you, Courtney. You have a beautiful baby.”

“What do I do about my window?”

“Do you have insurance?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“Aw man!”

“The Government will take care of it. Have someone repair it and send me the bill.”

Out on the sidewalk Marsha told Agent Clark to go to the Broken Spoke Hotel and get credit cards and registrations for the time Beverly was at the meeting in the hotel.

Agents Simpson and Wilcox were looking the van and truck over that was behind the grocery store two blocks west of the beauty salon.

“Both from the west coast.”

“Bet they are the only two vehicles in Kerney County from Oregon and Washington.”

“Wonder what’s taking so long to find out if they are stolen?” said Wilcox.

“Oh, they’re stolen. You can count on that. Have they been reported as stolen is the question right now?”

“They will probably be reported as stolen when the FBI shows up on their doorsteps,” said Wilcox.

“Think we will find her?”

“Yeah, we’ll find her, eventually.”

“How many shots did you hear?” asked Simpson.

“Two.”

“But we know there were three fired.”

“Yeah, and it almost sounded as one shot. I have to admit they were good shots,” said Wilcox.

“Or, just lucky.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” said Wilcox.

“Wonder where the guy came from?”

“The man with the cane?”

“Yeah, the guy with the cane.”

“I don’t know, all the stores were closed.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simpson.

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“If the guy happened to just walk by, why did they get out of the car with Mrs. MacDonald?”

“They wouldn’t. There was no need to be in any hurry. They would have stayed in the car until the guy was gone,” said Wilcox.

“He had to come out of a store after Mrs. MacDonald was out of the car.”

“Yeah, but which one?”

“Not but two he could have come out of, and one of them is empty.”

Marsha Jefferson was standing in front of the Thrift store. The Kerney Chief of Police was standing beside her.

“It’s closed yet the lights are on. Wonder why?”

“Maybe they forgot to turn them off.”

“The man that grabbed her came out of one of these stores after Beverly was out of the car.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s the way we do it. The vehicle is armored. She’s safe as long as she is in the vehicle. You don’t get out of the car with a potential threat walking by.”

“How would the agents know if someone is a potential threat?”

“Everyone is a potential threat.”

“Does the Secret Service trust anyone?”

“No, we trust no one.”

“I couldn’t live like that.”

“Few people can. I want to look inside.”

Beverly put on the coveralls and the socks. The coveralls were a medium and Beverly was petite. Even the socks were too big. She rolled up the legs and the arms of the coveralls. They would have to do. What choice did she have? She was just thankful to have something on. She looked around her cell. She estimated that it was about ten feet across and eight feet from the back wall to the iron bars of the front. There was a small fluorescent bulb on the ceiling. A chemical toilet was in the corner. A curtain offered some privacy. The mattress was foam rubber with a cloth covering. A sink with no faucet was attached to the wall. Twenty, one-gallon plastic jugs were on one shelf. The food was granola bars, trail mix, snack cakes, saltine crackers and meal ready to eat (MRE’s). She read the instructions. Seemed simple enough.

She sat on the bed and looked at the walls. The walls weren’t brick or concrete blocks. The walls appeared to be metal. She got up and tapped on them with her knuckles, steel. The floor was steel, as was the ceiling. She tried the bars, they wouldn’t budge. Six feet beyond the bars was another wall with a solid metal door. There was a light on the ceiling, but it was off. A single lawn chair was in the room. Beverly wondered how long they were going to keep her. From the amount of food and water it looked like it was going to be a while.

Sheila MacDonald, Josh’s wife, had just gotten back from shopping. Monica, the four-year-old, was playing in the living room. Sheila heard someone knock on the front door.

“I got it,” yelled Monica.

“No, I’ll get it,” said Sheila.

Monica, being the typical four-year-old always wanted to answer the phone and the door. Sheila opened the door. Two men wearing navy blue suits were standing side by side. Both men were holding their identification at eye level where Sheila could see it.

“Mrs. MacDonald?” said one of the agents.

“Yes.”

“May we come in?”

“You’re Secret Service, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, come on in.”

“Thank you,” said one agent

“I saw enough Secret Service Agents in Kerney. I can spot one a mile away.”

Both men smiled.

“Do you know when Mr. MacDonald will be home?” said one of the agents.

“About five, he’s flying.”

“Is this Monica?”

“Yes, it is, Monica say hello.”

“Hello,” said Monica.

“Is something wrong?” asked Sheila.

“Do you mind if we wait on your husband to get home?”

“No, I don’t mind, but there is something wrong, isn’t there?”

“We should wait until he gets home.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“No Ma’am, it’s best if we wait.”

A City of Kerney Police Officer escorted a man to the Chief of Police.

“Chief.”

“Yeah, what you got?”

“This gentleman may have seen something.”

Marsha Jefferson heard the exchange and walked over.

“This is Mr. Tyson. He is staying a few days at the Broken Spoke Hotel. Mr. Tyson, this is the Chief of Police. Please tell him what you saw.”

“I was smoking a cigarette. My wife was taking a shower. I stepped out on the upstairs balcony. You know they won’t let you smoke inside. I saw some people go in the building here. A few minutes later a man wearing a green jacket and a black hat came out of the store.” Mr. Tyson pointed at the Thrift store. Before he could continue Marsha said, “You sure you saw him come out of the Thrift store?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

The Chief said, “Then what happened?”

“I heard a gunshot.”

“Just one?”

“I believe it was just one, but I am not positive.”

“And then what happened?” asked the Chief.

“The man in the green jacket ran back this way. I thought he was running away from the shooting.”

“Was he holding a metal cane like this one?” asked the chief pointing at the metal cane still in the door. Mr. Tyson shook his head ‘No.’

“If he was, I didn’t see it.”

“Can you tell us what kind of hat he was wearing?”

“A cowboy hat, seems like everyone wears one of those here.”

“Where are you from, Sir?”

“New Orleans.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“After you saw the man running what did you see?” asked the Chief.

“A van came down the street and stopped here, then turned right, and then I heard a lot of shots.”

“What happened next?”

“I ran inside and got in the shower with my wife.”

“Bet you had your clothes on, didn’t you?” said Marsha.

“You bet I did.”

“You didn’t see the man grab the lady and throw her in the van?”

“What lady?”

“I think that will be all,” said Marsha.

“What lady?”

“A lady was taken by the man in the green jacket,” said the Chief.

“Oh God,” said Mr. Tyson.

“I had no idea. Are those bodies y’all got covered up over there?”

“Yes Sir, and you didn’t see them get shot?”

“No, I had no idea all that was going on.”

“Ma’am,” said the Police Officer to get Marsha’s attention.

“Yes.”

“I went up on the balcony. The agency vehicles would have been blocking his view.”

“I understand. Mr. Tyson, thank you very much. One last question though, did the man you saw have a mustache?”

“No, he had a beard. I forget to mention that.”

“I understand. How long did you stay in the shower?”

“Until the policeman knocked on the door.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tyson. Chief can you give him one of your cards? Mr. Tyson if you can think of anything else please call the Chief.”

“I will.”

After Mr. Tyson left, the Chief asked Marsha, “You wanted me to give him my card. You didn’t want him to know you are Secret Service?”

“You’re right, I would like a few more minutes before the news media finds out about this.”

“Why?”

“Every nut in America will claim they have her and want ten million bucks. Besides, I don’t know if all the family has been notified.”

“He didn’t really tell us anything we didn’t already know did he?”

“Afraid not. I don’t think he saw the cane because it was in the man’s right hand. His body would have blocked the view from there.”

Alice Thomas Farmer, Beverly’s Mother, was visiting a sick friend in Kerney’s nursing home. The friend had told her there was also another friend in the nursing home. Alice wanted to drop in and visit her, too. She never made it. One of the Secret Service Agents said, “Ma’am we have to go.”

“I won’t be but a few minutes.”

“Ma’am, I am sorry, but we have our instructions and we have to go, now.”

“Right now?”

“Yes Ma’am, now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“We need to go, Ma’am.”

Alice Thomas Farmer was seventy. She was a widow. Her husband, Keith Arnold Farmer was a Sheriff’s Deputy who died in the line of duty a quarter of a century ago. She was fiercely independent. Of all the MacDonald family she felt the Secret Service agents encroached on her the most. The agents respected her because her husband had died in the line of duty during a botched bank robbery. He had sacrificed his life while saving a woman’s life instead of his own.

“Young man, you listen to me. I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Ma’am, your daughter had been kidnapped.”

“Oh, My God!”

“This way Ma’am.”

Marsha Jefferson was pacing back and forth in front of the Thrift store.

“When is the Sheriff bringing the employee and the keys?”

“He’s trying to locate him now,” said the Chief.

“I’ll give him five minutes, then I am kicking the door down.”

She heard a siren. “About time.”

The Sheriff parked near the courthouse. Two men got out of the car with him and quickly walked across the street towards Marsha. When he was within earshot said, “He’s got the keys to the thrift store. Me and Allen are going in the Courthouse to get the surveillance video.”

Marsha gave the Sheriff the thumbs up. The man with the keys went to the door and unlocked it.

“Before we go in I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Yes Ma’am, go ahead.”

“You were working this morning and up until one o’clock, is that correct?”

“My wife and I, there were no volunteers working with us today. All our employees are volunteers from our church. People donate things and we sell them to buy food for the food bank.”

“That’s very admirable of you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. We try.”

“Did you turn the lights off when you left?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am positive of that.”

“Was anyone in the store at closing time?”

“No, our last customer left a few minutes before one.”

“Is there a back door to the shop?”

“Yes Ma’am, there is. The fire code requires that. There’s a lot of clothing racks in there. If there was a fire it would go up in a hurry.”

“Now, I want you to think real hard on the next question. Did you lock both doors? The front door and the back door when you and your wife closed the store?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am sure of that.”

“Is there a dressing room in there for trying on clothes?”

“Yes Ma’am. There is one at the very back of the store. The store has two rooms. One where everything is for sale and one room in back where we keep stuff we haven’t put out yet.”

“And the dressing room is in that back room?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And there is a loading dock in back, is that correct?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Did you check to see if anyone was in the dressing room before you left?”

“Well, no Ma’am, I didn’t. When you turn the lights off in the back room the lights go off in the dressing room. If someone was in the dressing room I am sure they would call out.”

“No one called out, did they?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Could someone come in the back door without you knowing?”

“I suppose they could have.”

“Did anyone donate anything today that would have been necessary to use the back door?”

“Yes, a man and a woman brought a lot of items around lunch time. They said they were moving and had to get rid of some stuff.”

“Were you or your wife in the back room when they were there?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Did you recognize him or her?”

“I’d never seen either of them before.”

“Did they say where they were moving from or moving to?”

“No Ma’am, they didn’t say.”

“Do you know how long they were back there?”

“No Ma’am, I would say at least a half an hour. The van

they were in was packed.”

“They were in a van?”

“Yes Ma’am, a white van.”

“Can you describe either one? Let’s do the man first.”

“Well, he was about my size.”

“So, he was 5’10” and 195 pounds?”

“Well, yes he was. That was a pretty good guess.”

“I wasn’t guessing.”

“Oh.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“He had a beard.”

“A full beard?”

“Yes Ma’am, dark brown, same as his hair.”

“Anything else?”

“He was wearing wrap-around sunglasses. You know the type they give you when you have cataract surgery.”

“What kind of clothes was he wearing?”

“A green jacket. It wasn’t an Army field jacket, but similar, you know, big pockets. And, he was wearing faded blue jeans and black work boots.”

“Anything else?”

“A black cowboy hat, that’s about all I remember about him.”

“And the female, what can you tell me about her?”

“She came up to about his shoulder. I can’t guess like you can. I would say medium build. She was also wearing sunglasses and she was also wearing a green jacket. Same style as the man. She also was wearing faded jeans and black work boots.”

“What color was her hair?”

“Brown, came down to the small of her back. It wasn’t curly, just straight like the hippies wore in the sixties and seventies.”

“Sir you have been most helpful. I would appreciate it if you would stay out here while the Sheriff and I go inside.”

“I am the Chief of Police.”

“Sorry, no offense.”

“None taken.”