James Swain - The Night Monster

“So the other four victims are buried at the compound?” Linderman said.

“There were five,” Seppi said.

The suite grew silent. I saw Linderman’s jaw clench.

“Tell me about the other victim,” Linderman said.

“She was right before me,” Seppi said. “They kidnapped her down in south Florida. I saw her sneakers lying around one day.”

“Running sneakers?” Linderman asked.

“I think so. They were blue Nikes.”

“When would this have been?”

“About five years ago.”

“Is she buried… with the others?”

Linderman’s voice had cracked. He switched off the tape recorder, and rose quickly from his chair. Wood and his assistant looked at him in alarm.

Linderman did not respond to their stares. Instead, he walked to the living room’s glass slider. Opening it, he went onto the balcony.

“Excuse me,” I said.

I went onto the balcony to check on Linderman. He was holding the railing with both hands, listening to the night sounds. I placed my hand on his back.

“You doing okay?” I asked.

“Not really,” he said.

“You can take a break, you know.”

“I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.”

I lowered my hand and stared into the darkness. Many times I had tried to imagine the torturous existence he and his wife had led since their daughter’s disappearance. Each time I had come up short.

“I’ve thought about this day for a long time,” Linderman finally said. “In the beginning, I prayed that I’d find Danny alive, and I’d bring her home and our lives would go back to normal. Then, as it dragged on and on, I just prayed for it to be over.”

Linderman took his hands off the railing, then turned and stared at me. His stony expression had melted. I could not remember ever seeing him look so vulnerable.

“And now the day is here,” he said.

– – We went back inside, and returned to our spots. Seppi fired up a cigarette, and the questioning resumed.

“How do we find the dairy farm?” Linderman asked.

“I can draw you a map, if you want,” Seppi said.

A piece of notepaper and a pencil were produced. Seppi took her time drawing a map of Chatham. When she was done, she showed us where Mouse and Lonnie’s dairy farm was located in relation to the town. It was due north and adjacent to a national forest, with a single road going in and out.

“The farm is a couple of acres, and has a house and a barn,” Seppi said. “It’s surrounded by high fence, and there are security lights.”

“Any dogs?” Woods asked.

“No-Lonnie’s terrified of dogs.”

“What kind of firearms do they have?” Linderman asked.

“From what I remember, Mouse had a pistol, which he shot sometimes. He kept it in a safe. He was always afraid of me getting ahold of it. The real threat is Lonnie. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever seen. And he’s not right in the head.”

There was a knock on the door. We all jumped. Wood said, “I ordered pizza during the break,” and went to answer it. A chubby pizza delivery boy stood outside. Wood handed him money, and brought two pizza boxes into the suite. The smell filled the suite, and soon we were all eating slices of pepperoni pizza.

“Who in Chatham will put up a fight when we go in?” Linderman asked.

Seppi had taken to the food, and answered with her mouth full. “With Sheriff Morcroft and his deputy gone, the people in town will lean on Travis Bledsoe. Travis was in Special Forces. He’s missing an arm, but he’ll put up a fight.”

“Show us where Bledsoe lives,” Linderman said.

Seppi drew Travis Bledsoe’s house on the map. It was outside of town, on the same road as Mouse and Lonnie’s farm.

“Bledsoe lives with his wife and four sons,” Seppi said. “They keep assault rifles in their house, and plenty of ammunition. They’re militia.”

“Is Bledsoe the only one we should be worried about?” Linderman asked.

“Everyone else in Chatham is old or crippled,” Seppi said. “If you put Bledsoe and his clan down, the town is yours.”

The questioning ended, and the tape recorder was shut off. Wood, Linderman, and I went onto the balcony to talk, while Wood’s assistant stayed with Seppi.

“This isn’t good,” Wood said. “If Bledsoe and his sons put up a fight, we’ll have a mess on our hands. I want to assemble a large group before going in.”

“How large?” Linderman asked.

“At least fifty men,” Wood said. “I’ll pull all the FBI agents out of my office, and also use SWAT teams from the Daytona Police Department. They’ll need to be briefed on what to expect.”

I cleared my throat. This wasn’t my rodeo, but I still wanted my voice to be heard. Wood shot me a disapproving look.

“You want to say something, say it,” Wood barked.

“The sheriff of Chatham and his deputy are lying dead in a pickup truck outside of town. Someone is going to find them, and realize things are going sideways. We don’t have the kind of time you’re talking about.”

Wood frowned. Like most FBI agents, he didn’t like being challenged. He looked to Linderman, more interested in what Ken had to say than me.

“Jack’s right. We’re running out of time,” Linderman said.

Wood’s frown grew, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do we do? Go in there with guns blazing, and hope for the best?”

“Draw Bledsoe and his sons out of the house and arrest them,” I suggested. “We’ll get Seppi to call them.”

“You think she’ll do that, after what she’s been through?”

I had dealt with countless victims of abductions. Some fell apart after their ordeals were over, while others grew stronger from the experience. Seppi was a survivor, and I felt certain I could get her to help us.

“Yes, I do,” I said.

Wood looked to Linderman for the final word.

“It’s worth a shot,” Linderman said.

The FBI agents left me alone with Seppi in the living room. I sat in a chair across from her, our knees nearly touching. While I’d been gone, she’d taken to feeding Buster the crusts from our slices of pizza, which my dog practically inhaled.

“He’s a nice dog,” she said. “Is he a pure breed?”

“I think so. I got him from the pound.”

“I hear they’re the best kind of dogs to have.”

“I need your help,” I said.

Seppi tossed Buster the last crust and turned to face me. Her expression was cold, almost defiant. I chose my words carefully.

“We need to set a trap for Bledsoe and his sons so we can arrest them.”

“Is that where I come in?”

“Yes.”

Seppi leaned back on the couch. She had finally escaped Chatham, and the sheriff who had threatened her mother’s life was dead. There was no need to go back.

“Can’t you figure out another way to do this?” she asked, growing angry.

“We need to do this right now,” I said. “Mouse and Lonnie are holding another young woman hostage.”

Seppi sat up straight. “They have another girl?”

“Yes. She’s a college student studying to be a nurse, just like you were. They abducted her three days ago.”

“So they haven’t ruined her yet.”

Ruined. I didn’t know what Seppi meant by that. Yet hearing the word told me that what had to be done couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please help us,” I said.

Seppi punched one of the pillows on the couch. The resolve that had allowed her to survive her ordeal rose to the surface, as I had hoped it would.

“Tell me what I have to do,” she said.

With an hour of darkness remaining, we put my plan into action.