No Fault of Mine

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Oh, no," I moaned and grabbed my chest to quiet the leap of pain in my body.

"I'm at Aunt Bea's house now," Stan said. "The police are going through the house looking for evidence. There's a sign of struggle, but there's no sign of them."

"I'm on my way," I said as I dashed to my office and grabbed my keys off my desk. On my way through the outer office, I told my staff my son and his sitter were missing and that I'd let them know the details as soon as I knew.

I was exiting the parking lot when I heard Stan's voice and realized that I hadn't ended his call. As I put the phone to my ear, I heard him repeating my name.

"Hey, stop, Stan," I said. "I'm on my way."

"I was going to tell you I'd keep you informed," Stan said. "There's nothing you can do here,"

"Listen, Stan, I dropped my son off there this morning, fully expecting he'd be there when I picked him up this afternoon, and you're telling me I can't be there?" I asked passionately.

"The police won't let you in the house," Stan said.

"Let them try to stop me," I said firmly and thumbed the phone off. The pain of hearing my son was missing was overwhelming and only intensified by my anger toward Stan. What was he doing there? Is this his way to get me to talk to him? He couldn't be that evil, could he? I gripped the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator to the floor. The burst of power felt strangely satisfying and increased my determination to yell at Stan.

My thoughts weren't on my driving, and if you asked me later how many red lights I met on my way to Aunt Bea's house, I couldn't tell you. I was focused on my missing son. Was he okay? He must be afraid and wondering where I am. Was Aunt Bea involved in his disappearance? I didn't want to believe it, but at this point, I trusted no one.

I hit the brakes as I pulled up to Aunt Bea's house, activating the ABS, but slid into the curb anyway. A trio of police cars, all with their lights flashing, were in the driveway and on the lawn. I was halfway way to the door when Stan stepped off the porch and stopped directly in front of me.

"Wait," he demanded.

"Don't tell me to wait!" I said in my don't-hassel-me voice. "You are not going to stop me from entering this house."

"Maybe I'll let you in," he said, lowering his voice, " but you've got to listen to me."

"You'll let me in?" I feigned a laugh. "I suppose you'll next tell me you're the police."

"Yes," he said. "I'm a U.S. Marshal, here on assignment."

I look at him, dumbfounded. "U.S. Marshal?"

"Yes, Ms. Stoddard," he said. "As I said, I'm here on assignment."

"What do you mean, assignment?"

A police officer appeared at the door and called to Stan, "Officer McFadden, you need to see this."

"McFadden? Is anything about you real?" I said in disgust.

"Stay here, Mia. I'll be right back."

Stan—or whatever his name is—jogged toward the house and disappeared through the door. I decided if he goes, I go. The living room looked nothing like it should. Lamps, tables, chairs, and potted plants were strewn across the floor. Stan circled a chair sitting Kittywampus on the floor, and talked to other officers in the living room. I hung back, interested in what they were saying.

"The neighbor said they drove to the west," an officer said. "That direction will connect them to the roads out of town."

I knew what that meant: north toward Canada, south to Coeur d'Alene, and east to Montana.

"Isn't there an abandoned lumber mill to the south of town?" Stan asked.

"Yes, and a working mill closer to town," another officer said.

"Start a search of abandoned buildings in the area, including the abandoned lumber mill," Stan said. "Have cruisers on all three routes out of town. Do we have a description of the vehicle yet?"

"We do," an officer said, referring to his handwritten notes. "It's a white Ford three-quarter-ton pickup with a long bed. There must be thousands in the area."

"Get the word out," Stan said. "Get the Amber Alert out for Brant Stoddard."

Stan turned toward me and said, "You don't listen very well, do you?"

"Not when it comes to my son," I said. "And who are you anyway?"

"As I said, I'm a U.S. Marshal assigned to a case involving a gang of cybercriminals who specialize in small—to medium-sized companies with antiquated security systems. Ed Ducain is the mastermind, and you've probably noticed trucks with Decain Construction magnetized signs on the vehicle doors. It's a rouse to reduce suspicion. Apparently, your company is one of their targets."

"And my son?"

"They've been planning this job for some time, and they've done their job well. They knew you, your importance to the company, and, of course, your son. They figured that your husband would crack under torture, but apparently, he didn't. That's why they came after the information that you had."

"Why have they taken my son?" I asked with a raised voice.

"They wanted a hostage," he said. "They probably knew we were closing in."

"Well, you're not closing in fast enough," I said and walked away.

"Wait," Stan said. "Where are you going?"

"Hunting," I said and walked out the door.

I called SueAnn as I drove back to the office. She answered, "Any news?"

"The police think he was kidnapped by the same criminals who killed Martin and pilfered our company accounts. Police are setting up cruisers on all three roads out of town."

"What can I do?" she asked.

"Do your magic, SueAnn, and get Berry, Art, and Liam to my office now."

"I'm on it," she said.

I called Thad's number, but it was busy. I was going to call him back but decided that a message would do. Once the call went to voicemail, I said, "Brant and Aunt Bea were kidnapped by the organization that emptied our accounts. If you want more information, call the U.S. Marshal's office." I knew he'd have quite a time getting a hold of anyone who could help him. I'm not a spiteful woman, but I am an angry one.

As I walked into the office, SueAnn said that she had contacted her husband and, after letting him know how disappointed she was in him, told him to get himself, Art, and Liam to her office immediately. "I told him it was a code red," she said. "It felt good."

SueAnn, Ann, and I discussed what we knew about the area and what would most likely be a criminal's escape route.

"North, south, and east—take your pick," Ann said.

"That'll certainly be the routes the police will cover," SueAnn said. "If I were a criminal, I'd go west into the National Forest and let the manhunt cool down."

"The forest service roads end at the mountain range; nothing goes through to Blue Lake on the other side," Ann said.

"Exactly," I said. "If I needed to hide out for a while, I'd go into the forest and get lost for a couple of months, and it'll likely be that long before the snow flies."

"Or, they will hide out in an abandoned building, like the ones around here," Ann said.

"That's likely, but the police are already on that," I said.

Barry, Art, and Liam arrived within the hour. Liam carried a shotgun and what looked like a 9mm under his open flannel shirt.