Leopard's Baby

Senator Curtis Roberts was ushered into the office of FBI director Chad Stewart. Stewart was a portly, red-faced man in his early sixties. He rose, greeted Roberts with a handshake, and offered coffee or something stronger. Roberts accepted coffee. Stewart instructed his administrative assistant to have coffee for two sent in, along with something with it. While they waited, the men, who’d known each other for years, asked about each other’s families, and chatted about the weather and the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. The coffee service, along with some pastries, was wheeled in by a woman. She served them and departed. Once they were left by themselves, each took a sip and sampled a pastry. Stewart put his cup down, wiped his hands on a napkin, and cleared his throat.

“I’m always happy to see you Curtis,” Stewart said. “I suspect, however, this is not purely a social call. Are you here to berate me because, after seven weeks, we haven’t located your grandson?”

“That’s not why I’m here, Chad,” Roberts replied. He put his own cup down. “I know you’re doing the best you can. My wife is of a different opinion. Has there been any progress since the last time we spoke?”

“Jennifer’s calls have trickled off to no more than two or three a week,” Stewart said with a chuckle. “Fortunately for me, they get dealt with before they get to my office. In terms of progress, there’s been little. We did find that ‘Judy Felson’ has disappeared off the face of the earth. We found a used-car lot in Chicago where she bought a car, a ford fusion, the same model spotted outside your Colorado compound. The owner of the lot couldn’t identify her picture. She probably had a different disguise when she bought it. If I may be frank?”

“Certainly. I wish you would.”

“Kidnap cases are given a very high priority, especially with a child, when the abductee is considered to be in danger. For example being held for ransom. That’s not the situation here. We still have a couple of agents working on it, but I have to tell you they spend most of their time tracking down false leads generated by your reward offer. Also, the sympathies within the bureau lie with the mother. Our people think she got a raw deal. I know you have the legal right to shut her out, but we don’t see why you wouldn’t at least allow her to have supervised visitation rights. It’s not as if she would harm him. What the hell, if it weren’t for her your daughter might be dead. Show some gratitude.”

Roberts rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and put his head in his hands. About a minute later he lifted his head and said, “Chad, I need to ask you for a personal favor.”

“Anything I can do for you, Curtis, I will. As long as it doesn’t compromise my position.”

“It’s actually a multipart favor.”

“Go ahead,” Stewart said in a guarded tone.

“First of all, I request that this be strictly between the two of us if you decide not to do anything. It’s rather embarrassing for me.”

“I can go along with that,” Stewart said with a grin. “It’s not as if you’d ask me to cover up a crime.”

“Not cover one up,” Curtis said. He hesitated. “But there may be one, and it may involve Jennifer.” He took out his phone and added, “I want to play an audio for you.”

Roberts played the conversation Olivia had with Cal Ricci. Stewart stared at his visitor with his mouth hanging open. Roberts placed a flash-drive on his host’s desk.

“How long have you had this and where did you get it?” Stewart asked.

“This is the embarrassing part,” Roberts said. “I’ve been sitting on it for quite a while wondering what I should do. If it’s true, a crime has been committed, and a grave injustice has been done to my former daughter-in-law. The only person who would’ve instigated this is Jennifer. Oh, I suppose Covington may have done it on his own in an attempt to curry favor from her, but I think that’s farfetched. He already gets just about anything he wants from her. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re sleeping together. I know they did before she met me.”

“Have you confronted her?”

“I’ve been afraid to,” Roberts said as his face turned red. “I don’t want it to be true. That’s why I’ve waited this long before coming to you. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. No matter how much I wish it would go away, it won’t. Jennifer reminds me of that on a daily basis.”

“What, specifically, do you want us to do?”

“First, see if the recording has been doctored in any way. Even though it’s a copy and not the original, you can do that can’t you?”

“Our technicians can, no problem,” Stewart said as he reached for the flash-drive. “Of course they’d listen to it. It would no longer be just between us. Assuming it’s the recording of an actual conversation, a crime may have been committed. We’d have to investigate. It’s germane to the kidnapping case. You didn’t answer my question as to how this came into your possession.”

“Olivia Selinson gave it to me. She’s the female on the recording.”

“Who’s she?”

“Her direct connection is that she’s Tamara’s mother.”

“The other grandmother,” Stewart said. He paused briefly before saying, “Obviously she’s not a neutral party. Do you think she got an actor to play a part?”

“I doubt it,” Roberts replied. “She’s a former secret service agent who was on the presidential protection detail. I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve been lied to by experts. I can usually tell when somebody is prevaricating. I didn’t get that vibe.”

Both men rose from their chairs. They shook hands, wished each other a Happy Thanksgiving, and Roberts left. Stewart picked up his phone and asked for two of his most trusted senior agents to come to his office.

***

Tammy entered the convenience store, located in a small town near the southern tip of Illinois. She helped Brendan out of his jacket. He was both restless and hungry. Being constantly on the move was taking its toll on both of them. After a grueling eighteen hour bus ride from Denver to St. Louis they’d spent the last seven weeks moving from town to town, mostly in eastern Missouri and southern Illinois, never staying very long in any one town. A few times she’d taken an odd job for a day or two to earn a little money. One or two nights a week they stayed at a cheap motel, mostly so she could shower, hide her dark roots, and bathe Brendan.

Occasionally they stayed at a women’s shelter. Tammy was surprised at the number of young women, some still in their teens and many with children, who were also on the run. The majority were escaping from abusive husbands, fathers, boyfriends, sometimes girlfriends, what have you. Others were running from police. Some just hated their home life. A few were mentally unbalanced.

When asked, Tammy said she was staying away from a boyfriend who threatened to kill her because, he thought, Brendan wasn’t his. She said her boyfriend had beaten her up on more than one occasion, and she had to take his threat seriously.

Sometimes she and other women would gather together in an abandoned house. Tammy felt she could not stay in any one place or with any group of people very long. If anyone recognized her, the reward Jennifer had posted would be very tempting.

The only time a dangerous situation had occurred was three weeks previously. She, Brendan, three other women, and two other children, were staying in an abandoned farmhouse. Late at night four drunken roughnecks from a biker gang roared up on motorcycles. Brandishing knives, they’d demanded all the money the women had, and, on threat of harming the children, said the women must submit to sex. Two of the women began to sob.

Tammy could not allow herself to get robbed, nor could she risk getting pregnant. She was even prepared to change if necessary to prevent either. She approached the men as if she were going to be the first to service them. When she got close she attacked. Even with four to one odds, the inebriated men were no match for her. Within minutes one man had a broken arm and a broken leg, a second had three cracked ribs, a broken nose, and a concussion, a third had two broken clavicles and a severely torn ACL, and the fourth a ruptured Achilles tendon, a dislocated elbow, and a broken jaw.

The women stared at her in disbelief. One of them had a panic attack and peed herself. Tammy knew killing the men would be more trouble than leaving them alive. She doubted they’d admit a women had injured them. They’d probably claim it was a rival gang.

Tammy took all the money the men had, divided it up among the women, and told them it would be best if they split up. One of the women begged to stay with her, but Tammy didn’t allow it. It was too likely the woman might recognize her and go for the reward.

Tammy took one of the motorcycles, rode it until she reached the Mississippi River, and threw if off a bridge into the middle of the river.

Now in the convenience store, she looked for something both cheap and nourishing. Her money was almost gone. Because of Brendan she couldn’t hunt for food as a leopard. I’ll probably have to pick up another job for a few days, she thought. It’s too risky to contact my mother or Megan. Even though I haven’t been in the news for quite a while, Jennifer is sure to have my family under surveillance.

“You goddamned fucking bitch!” Tammy heard someone bellow. She looked down an aisle on her right and saw a large man hitting a woman.

The woman was crying as she tried to fend off the man. One of her eyes was already closed, a tooth was lying on the floor next to her, blood was pouring from a split lip, and she could barely move her left arm. The man struck her in the abdomen. She hunched over, retching. He knocked her down and kicked her.

Stay out of it, Tammy told herself. Then Brendan pulled his hand out of hers, ran up to where the altercation was, pointed at the man, and yelled, “Bad man! Bad man!”

“Get the fuck away from here you little bastard!” the man shouted as he swatted at Brendan. The blow didn’t land solidly, but it knocked Brendan off his feet. He started to cry. The man brought his leg back, clearly intending to kick Brendan, when Tammy reached him.

She caught the leg as it swung forward and twisted violently. The sound of tendons and ligaments snapping was audible throughout the store. The man fell screaming. Tammy stomped on his face, breaking his nose and jaw, and then crushed the kneecap on his good leg.

She was about to deliver the coup de grace when a hand grabbed her from behind, and a feminine voice said, “Don’t kill him! You’ll just make trouble for yourself. Let’s get out of here before the cops arrive. Nobody’s going to complain if this creep had the shit beat out of him.”

“I have to get some food for my son,” Tammy said as she scooped up Brendan. He wrapped his arms around her neck and stopped crying.

“Come with me,” the woman urged. “I’ll feed you both. I have a proposition for you.”

Tammy knew the woman was right. She wasn’t in a position to answer questions the police might pose. She followed the woman to a tavern called Haley’s Place. There were not very many patrons. Most of the those there greeted the woman, calling her Haley. The only employee, the bartender, tapped his watch as she went by. She said, “Ten minutes, Joe.” They went through to a back room.

“Burgers okay?” Haley asked as she lit the fire on a gas stove.

“Great,” Tammy said.

“You look famished,” Haley said. “One or two?”

Tammy briefly debated. She was very hungry, so she decided not to be too polite. “Two for me. A small one for Bobby.”

“What’s your name, Honey?”

“Melissa. Melissa Garton. This is Bobby.”

“They call you Missy?”

“Everyone except my mother.”

A few minutes later Tammy was wolfing down her best dinner in days. Brendan ate and almost immediately dozed off. She felt her own eyelids drooping as she finished.

“Upstairs is where I live,” Haley said. “I have a clean guestroom with its own bath. You and your son are welcome to crash. Before you do, though, I have something I want to discuss with you. Briefly. My bartender needs help before the evening rush. Not that much of a rush anymore. Nevertheless, I have to get to work.”

“You’d trust a stranger in your home? Someone you’ve never met?”

“My name is Haley Wilcox. The asshole you almost killed has been harassing everyone in town for years. After what you did to him, I’d give you anything you wanted. Everyone in town is afraid of him. Even the sheriff won’t mess with him. He comes in here and demands free booze and food. If we refuse he breaks up the place and scares away our customers. A year ago he put my husband in the hospital. He was in a coma for three weeks before the doctors declared him brain-dead. He and I owned this place. I’m trying to hang on, but I have a tough time getting help to stay. The way you handled Max makes me think you must’ve been in special forces.”

“I’ve had training,” Tammy said obliquely as she studied the other woman. Late forties, short gray hair, slender with ropy muscles in her arms. “Why didn’t Max go to prison? Even a corrupt sheriff can’t ignore someone dying.”

“He had a couple of his friends testify my husband started the fight. Pure bullshit. It was ruled self-defense.” Haley paused before asking, “Who are you running from?”

“What makes you think I’m on the run.”

“Give me a break,” Haley said, rolling her eyes.

“My ex,” Tammy said, trying to appear reluctant. “It was bad enough when he beat the shit out of me, but when he threatened Bobby I knew I had to get away from him.”

“After the way you handled Max I’d think you’d could handle him.”

“Size matters. He’s huge. Six-five, two-fifty. Fanatic about being in shape. Exercises all the time. Got thrown out of the police for excessive brutality. I need to stay under the radar. He still has friends on the force. He’s controlling as hell. Went ape-shit if I even looked at another guy. Then he got jealous of Bobby. That was the last straw.”

“Come to work for me as a bouncer/bartender/waitress. You can live upstairs. Free room and board plus wages and tips.”

Tammy thought things over. She’d been on the run for seven weeks. It would be good to settle down, at least for a while. She accepted.