Tribe (30 page)

“Hurry before someone else is hurt!”

“Not to worry, ginger, we're on our way.”

“You know, the situation
isn't just nearly out of control,” Rick said as he led the way into his hotel room and locked the door behind them. “It's completely out of control. And no thanks to you, I might add.”

Rick threw his coat on a chair and stared at Paul, who didn't reply. In fact, since Rick had picked him up Paul had offered little except that Zeb was gone. Disappeared. No longer at the small house attached to the church.

Finally, Paul said, “Perhaps this isn't meant to be.”

“What a ghastly thing to say! Don't tell me you're losing faith?”

“Of course not, it's just that—”

“We're talking about my granddaughter, don't forget. About her health, about her life. We need to rescue her and bring her back to the fold.”

Staring at the floor, Paul said, “Yes, sir.”

“So get busy!”

Rick now watched as Paul crossed the hotel room, took his thick briefcase, and placed it on the bed. His movements quick and precise, Paul snapped open the case, pulled out several wires, and turned to the telephone on the bedside table. Using suction cups, he attached the wires to the phone, then dialed a number. As soon as the line was ringing, Paul pressed a series of keys on the phone itself, thereby dialing in a code.

“I pray to God we're able to learn something. Or maybe I should pray for something more simple,” said Rick. “Like I hope to God this contraption of yours still works.”

Rick sat on the opposite bed and waited to see if there would indeed be a miracle. In theory, at least, the small device that Paul had attached to Janice's telephone line—identical to the one placed on Zeb's mother's phone line in Santa Fe—was supposed to digitally record every one of her phone calls. Just as important, it was supposed to identify the name and telephone number of every incoming and outgoing call. And Rick now waited as the small contraption in Paul's briefcase seized Janice's phone lines and downloaded all of the information regarding Janice's calls. It took little over a minute.

“Is there anything?” asked Rick finally.

Paul nodded as he disconnected the suction cups from the handset and hung up the hotel phone. He pressed a button on the small electronic box in his briefcase, and the recordings of Janice's phone conversations began to play. First was Rick's call that morning when he asked to meet Janice. Then there was another call from a friend. And then a very important one.

The recorded voice from the box said, “It's me.”

Recognizing Zeb's voice, Rick lunged forward and said, “He called her after he left the church.”

The two men listened to the rest of the recording as Janice nervously said she would pick him up, she still had her coat on, she'd be there in minutes.

Rick checked his watch and said, “She's picked him up by now. Maybe she brought him back to her house.”

Paul held his hand up to silence Rick. To their surprise they next heard the voice of Todd Mills speaking to a man called Jeff about none other than Zeb and the baby. From the conversation Rick and Paul learned everything they needed.

Rick smiled. “Praise Jehovah.”

“Thus is His will.”

So the sodomites had hidden his boy and granddaughter at a gay bar. He should have guessed they'd do something disgusting like that. And Janice was on her way down there. Perfect. From the conversation it sounded as if only Janice was going to be there, which should make things slightly less complicated.

“Very good,” said Rick, standing up. “My apologies. This thing of yours does work. Quite well too.”

He stood up, started pacing. They had to act quickly, for this could very well be their last chance and—

Just then there was a knock on the door. Rick looked at Paul, who froze. Who the hell, wondered Rick, could that be? Not the maid. The room had already been cleaned. The knock turned into pounding, and Paul started stuffing the wires into his briefcase, which he snapped shut.

“Just a minute!” called Rick.

He crossed through the room and nodded to Paul, who withdrew his gun from his coat pocket. No doubt about it, this could be serious trouble, and he motioned Paul into the dark bathroom. Once the other man had slipped out of sight, Rick went right up to the door.

“Who's there?”

“It's me! Let me in!”

It was a young and thin voice, that of a woman. At first Rick thought he recognized it, but then he realized he was being ridiculous. That was impossible. It couldn't be her. He leaned up to the small peephole, looked out, and saw blond hair and a slender body.

“Oh, my word!”

His hands fumbled for the lock and he threw open the door. What next could go wrong?

“Lord Almighty!” he said upon seeing her. “Suzanne, what in the world are you doing here?”

“I'm looking for my husband and your son, who just so happen to be one and the same,” she said as she barged past him, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. “Where's Zeb? What have you done to him? Have you hurt him? And where's my daughter?”

Rick demanded, “How did you get here?”

“How do you think? On the back of a little angel.”

“Does your father know you're—”

“Of course not. Now where's Zeb?”

Rick pressed a hand to his forehead—this was the last thing they needed—as Suzanne marched into the main part of the room. Seeing that it was empty, she dropped her duffel bag on the floor and then crossed to the mirrored door of the closet, which she slid open. Her husband, though, was not hidden in there, and as she turned Paul emerged from the bathroom, his pistol hanging from his hand.

“You fat pig!” shouted Suzanne when she saw him. “What did you do to Zeb? Where is he?”

She lunged at him, pushing Paul back against the wall and beating on him with both fists. Rick went after her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back.

“Stop it!” he shouted.

“You big thug!” she screamed at Paul. “Did you hurt Zeb?”

Rick demanded, “That's enough!”

He dragged her away from Paul, hurling her onto the bed. She jumped up, and when he grabbed one of her wrists Suzanne lunged forward with her mouth and bit him as hard as she could.

“You little slut!” shouted Rick as he brought back his hand and slapped her on the left cheek.

Suzanne fell back on the bed, clasping her face and sobbing. Rick couldn't believe this. There was no time for such antics. What in the devil's name did she think she was doing, coming here like this? She was going to foul everything.

“Suzanne,” snapped Rick, “you were stupid to come here! And you're stupid to bother us!”

She sobbed, “My baby…”

“Stop it! We don't have time for your hysterics!”

He walked to the window, his fists clenched. What he should do now was take her right back to the airport and put her on the first plane to Denver. There wasn't, however, enough time. Which meant that unless they wanted to tie her up here in the motel room, they had no choice.

“I'm sorry, my dear, but things have gotten complicated,” said Rick, his back to Suzanne. “Paul and I were just about to leave to get Zeb and your baby. We know where they are, but we don't have much time. What that means is that you're going to have to come with us.”

Paul demanded, “What?”

“We can't leave her alone,” Rick said to Paul. “We have to keep an eye on her.”

“But—”

“Suzanne, you won't mind coming with us, will you?”

She wiped her eyes. “No.”

“And you'll be good, you'll wait in the car while we go get Zeb and your baby?”

“Y-y-yes.”

“All right, then let's go. Time is wasting.”

She nodded, then leaned over to pick up her bag.

“We'll be coming back,” Rick said. “You can leave your bag here.”

“No,” she said, picking it up and holding it tight against her body. “I might need it.”

“Very well. Let's go.”

It wasn't far from
the Gay Times to City Hall, only a matter of a few blocks, and the streets downtown had been well cleared of snow. Five minutes after Todd had dropped Janice off he was pulling up to the towering red granite building that occupied an entire block. But Rawlins wasn't waiting inside the arched entry as promised. Todd stopped in the slush along the curb, put on his flashers, and prepared to wait. If there was one thing that bugged him about Rawlins, it was his sense of time—he was always late. After five minutes of just sitting there and wondering where in the hell Rawlins was, Todd picked up his car phone and dialed Rawlins's number.

“Nope, he isn't around,” said Jack, one of the other detectives who picked up the phone in the bull room where they all worked. “He left—I don't know—something like ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

Great, thought Todd, hanging up. Rawlins could appear in just a couple of seconds. Or, knowing him, this could take forever. Todd closed his eyes, clenched his right hand into a fist, and pounded lightly on the steering wheel. There wasn't time for this right now, and he tried to remember Rawlins's beeper number. Recalling what he hoped was it, he dialed and did in fact receive a message to leave his own number, which Todd did, pressing in the number of his car phone. Todd hung up, but nothing happened. He just sat in his Cherokee staring at his phone, willing it to ring.

Trying not to get too bent out of shape, Todd started thinking about Janice's security system. There was something not quite right about it, he was sure, but what that was exactly he didn't know. He thought about the initial message the small speaker had given, tried to imagine what it could possibly have meant. Perhaps the storm had somehow affected the phone lines. Maybe snow and ice had built up on the wires outside.

Fifteen minutes after Todd had arrived, Rawlins finally came trotting out the arched entry of City Hall. Todd took a deep breath. Just be cool, he told himself.

“Sorry,” said Rawlins as he climbed in and shut the door. “I got called into Captain Letzen's office—there was nothing I could do.”

“Didn't you get my call on your beeper?” asked Todd, trying not to sound too irritated.

“Yeah, but like I said, I couldn't break away, not even to make a quick call. So what's up?”

As he started up his car and drove off, Todd said, “I've got some info we need to discuss.”

“How nice. And here I thought we were getting together for a friendly cup of coffee. Do tell.”

“I didn't want to go into it over the phone, but I know where Zeb is.”

“Very good. The plot thickens.”

Todd turned the corner. “Zeb didn't attack that guy. You're right, though, he was there. At that house, the minister's. After we saw him at the hospital Zeb got his car stuck in the snow, so this minister let him spend the night at his house. But like I said, Zeb didn't hurt anyone. He was there this morning and this other guy, someone from the cult, started stalking the house. Zeb can not only give a complete description, he has a name too.”

“Excellent.”

“And the guy just so happens to be the same one who broke into Janice's and attacked the both of us.”

“Which means you can give descriptions as well.”

“Exactly.” Todd asked, “So does that mean you're going to have to take Zeb in for questioning?”

“Well, there is this warrant out for his arrest, you know.”

“Right, but…well, both Janice and I are afraid that Zeb will panic if he's separated again from his daughter. We don't know if he'll clam up or just try to get away. Can't I just take you to see him and then you can do an informal interview of sorts?”

Rawlins thought for a moment. “Okay. I shouldn't do this, but for you…”

“You're wonderful.”

“I hope you mean that.”

“I hope I do too.” Driving back toward Hennepin, Todd changed the subject by saying, “Do you know anything about security systems?”

“Not much. Why?”

“Because something's screwy about Janice's.”

Todd reviewed the situation, explaining what had happened, how they hadn't been able to set it, and how they'd gone down to the basement to check it out. Everything—all the wires and such—had seemed in order, he went on.

“Wait a minute,” said Rawlins, “you say the phone wires went right out of the basement?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that could be the problem right there.”

That was enough to make him remember. In the piece he'd done for Channel 7 one of the tips was that phone lines should leave the house via an attic or the top of a house and never at ground level. The experienced burglar could simply and easily cut the lines, thereby rendering a security system virtually impotent.

But wait a minute, he thought. If someone had cut Janice's lines, as the first warning on her system had suggested, why did it work later?

“It could have been something like snow on the lines,” Todd said. “Or maybe when that guy broke in he caused a short in the wiring. Something like that, because just a few minutes later we were able to set it.”