Now that Jer was missing, he felt powerless, at a complete loss for what to do next. Under any other scenario he would have been elated to be in Sarah’s company, but he was too numb from witnessing his son’s abduction to feel any emotion other than overwhelming dread.
Sarah, likewise, was unable to concentrate on anything, overcome with panic. The depressive grief she endured those many months following Jacob’s death once again held her captive in its paralyzing grip. Jer’s abduction brought back the pain so vividly that she felt it all over again. She couldn’t shake the dread of facing another trauma of that magnitude. Just imagining losing her remaining son caused such anxiety that she began trembling uncontrollably as she sat next to Ryan. The insanity of their situation was simply unbearable.
As they drove, a Residence Inn caught Ryan’s attention and he abruptly made an illegal turn to pull into the motel parking lot. “We’ve got to get off the street for a while, don’t you think? Rest will do us both some good,” he said, patting her hand, trying to get her to stop shaking.
“Ry…Ryan, I…I…ca…can’t think,” Sarah stuttered. “I’m losing it,” she said, forcing the words from her mouth between rapid and shallow breaths. “Wh…what are we…going…to do?”
“Sarah! You’re hyperventilating. You’ve got to calm down.” he cautioned. He began rummaging in the backseat and found a white paper bag from his stop at the Burger King in Reno. He shook out the soiled napkins and blew up the bag. “Here, breathe into this for a few minutes.”
She shakily took the bag without argument and began breathing as he instructed. Within a few moments, her panic attack abated and her breathing slowly returned to a more normal rate.
“Okay, that’s better, honey, much better,” he said soothingly, reaching out to smooth the hair on her head. “I’m upset, too, but we’ve got to hold it together…for Jer, right? Let’s get a room and unwind a bit, okay? Will you be all right for a minute or do you want to come with me?”
“No, no, you go ahead. I’ll wait here,” she said, her voice quavering. “I can’t go in there looking like we just had a fight. Besides the police will be looking for a couple. You should check in alone.”
“Okay, I’ll only be a moment. Stay right where you are, Mrs. Marshall,” he said with a slight smile.
Ryan checked into the motel under a fictitious name, paying cash for one night. The attendant merely had him sign the rate card and handed him the key to room 239. Moments later, they checked into their room, alone for the first time since their divorce.
Ryan couldn’t believe how drastically things had changed in the past forty-eight hours. He was torn by feelings of humble gratitude for having Sarah back in his life, and total dejection from losing Jer. These conflicting emotions made it almost impossible to think clearly. Once settled in, he decided to take a shower and wash away the grime he’d picked up over the past three days.
Sarah was much too agitated to relax. She decided to send Sela a message. It was too early to call Maryland, and even though her sister wouldn’t mind being awakened, sending her an email seemed more reasonable.
Sarah opened the laptop and connected to the local Internet service in the room. She went to her email account and entered her password. Jarrod’s message was the first one that came up on her screen.
“Ryan!” she screamed. “My God…they’ve got Sela, too. They contacted Jarrod. He was right!”
“Sarah…shhh…keep your voice down,” Ryan called out from the bathroom, worried neighbors would complain about the noise. He reached for a towel before opening the shower curtain. “What are you talking about? How do you know Sela’s been taken?”
“Jarrod sent us a message,” she groaned. “They’ve taken him to run that machine, just as he thought. They’ve also taken Sela for ransom. Ryan, what are we going to do? What’s happening to us? We’re losing our whole family.” She slumped onto the floor, looking stunned. “We need help…we can’t just keep running. I’m calling Pop.”
“Whoa, hold on a sec. Let’s think this through,” Ryan said, trying to process the news. New developments were happening too fast to comprehend. The odds of gaining the upper hand seemed more remote than ever.
“The first thing we should do is call Ben Dare. I’m sure he arranged the PI that was tailing you and Jer; he’ll know what to do about Sela. Call right now. I know it’s early in Washington, but we can’t wait another minute. Ben can start an early search for Sela. Kidnapping a senator’s daughter has national implications and Ben’ll know how to handle it. Don’t worry, honey, they’ll find Sela; we’ll get everyone back,” he said, trying to sound convincing, but he realized his words lacked conviction.
Sarah went to her cell phone and dialed Ben. Her nerves were shattered as she waited impatiently for the phones to connect, nervously pacing the room. She held her free hand across her chest as if embracing herself, trying to hold her fragile emotions in check.
“Hello,” Ben answered, groggily, obviously awakened from a deep sleep.
“Ben, it’s Sarah…Marshall,” she said haltingly. “Sela’s been kidnapped. We need your help…”
“Sarah? It’s been a long time,” Ben replied, trying to clear his head, surprised by the information he thought he’d just heard. “What’s this about Sela? Tell me everything that’s happened.”
“Gladly,” she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Let me start at the beginning…”
THIRTY-FIVE
Livermore
05:30 HOURS
The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., arousing the man from sleep. He reached over, silenced the alarm and sat up on the edge of the bed. By habit, he turned to kiss his wife lightly on the forehead and whispered, “I love you” softly into her ear. Then he stood up, dragged himself groggily to the bathroom, his head still trying to make sense of the early hour. He pulled on his sweats, donned his running shoes and before he really realized what he was doing, found himself stretching on the pavement in front of his house, getting ready for his daily four-mile run through the municipal park and back.
Steven McCauley’s routine was as predictable as salmon swimming upstream. He prided himself on staying in shape, something most engineers only gave lip-service to following an annual physical. But McCauley’s passion for physical fitness bordered on obsession. Every workday was a success when it began with sixty minutes of exercise, no matter what else happened during the day. Likewise, if he missed his early morning workout before a tedious day at the lab, it seemed as if the whole day was wasted. Such was the regimen of this alcoholic-turned-fitness aficionado.
McCauley considered the run to Hidden Park and back the perfect distance: almost exactly a mile from his house. It took him less than ten minutes to traverse this distance, which allowed enough time to complete two circuits around the perimeter of the park. From start to finish, the four-mile run could be completed in less than fifty minutes.
This was his favorite part of the day and he was never deterred by the weather. His daily hour-long jog was the prescription that kept him sane and out of the doctor’s office. He’d also had more than one strike of enlightenment while making his customary run. Nothing took its place.
Hidden Park was aptly named-it couldn’t be seen from the street and was surrounded by contiguous houses on all sides; alleyways were the only access to the park. Even though the City of Livermore had it well marked, most people using the park lived close by. There were hundred-year-old sycamore trees that populated the park, and a series of natural caves and small hillocks made it a great place for kids to play capture the flag and other war games. The Livermore police routinely patrolled this area, so most crimes that would normally be associated with a secluded park were almost nonexistent-pot-smoking being the only criminal activity that regularly took place in the park’s numerous secret hiding places. McCauley especially liked Hidden Park because it brought him a sense of solitude to start his day.