Sally Beecham’s car was parked in front; a shrill beep emanated from the house. The front door was open and the agent could see her just inside the door deactivating the alarm system, he presumed. He was proven correct when the beep stopped. The agent watched the men get out of the van, pull some tools from the back of the vehicle, stack them in a wheelbarrow, and head around to the back of the house. Then the agent got in his car and drove back to the checkpoint.
LuAnn and Riggs were standing in the parking lot of the motel outside Danville, Virginia. Riggs had talked to the motel manager. The police had been summoned the night before. The man in Room 112 had been attacked and badly injured. Because of the severity of the wound, a medevac helicopter had been called to airlift out the man. The name the man had given was not Charlie’s; however, that meant nothing. And the manager was not aware of a young girl being with the man.
“You’re sure they were in room one twelve?”
LuAnn whirled around. “Of course I’m sure.”
She closed her eyes, stopped pacing, and rocked on her heels. She knew! She knew what had happened. The thought of Jackson touching Lisa, hurting her, all because of what LuAnn had done or hadn’t done. It was numbing, absolutely and totally incapacitating.
“Look, how was I supposed to know you have some kind of psychic connection with this guy?” Riggs replied.
“Not him dammit. Her! My daughter.”
This statement stopped Riggs dead in his tracks. He looked down and then watched her resume her pacing.
“We need some information, Matthew. Right now.”
Riggs agreed, but he didn’t want to go to the police. That would entail wasting a lot of time in explanations and the end result might very well be the local cops taking LuAnn into custody.
Finally, Riggs said, “Come on.”
They went into the motel office and Riggs walked over to a pay phone. Riggs phoned Masters. The FBI still had no leads on Jackson and Roger Crane still had not surfaced, Riggs was told.
Riggs briefly explained the situation at the motel the night before to Masters.
“Hold on,” Masters said.
While Riggs did so he looked over at LuAnn staring at him. She was silently waiting for the worst news she could possibly receive, of that he was certain. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but then stopped. The last thing he could be right now was reassuring, particularly since he had nothing to base it upon. Why set her up even further for the long fall.
When Masters came back on, his tone was low and nervous. Riggs turned away from LuAnn while he listened.
Masters said, “I just checked with the local police in Danville. Your information is correct, a man was stabbed at that motel on the outskirts of town. The ID found on him gave his name as Robert Charles Thomas.”
Charlie? Riggs licked his lips, gripped the phone. “His ID? He couldn’t tell the police?”
“He was unconscious. Lost a lot of blood. Damn miracle he’s even alive, they tell me. The wound was professionally administered, designed to slow-bleed the person. They found darts from a stun gun in the room. Guess that was how he was incapacitated. As of early this morning, they weren’t sure if he was going to make it.”
“What’s he look like?” Riggs heard some paper rustling over the line. He was almost certain it was Charlie, but he needed to be absolutely sure.
Masters started speaking again. “Over six feet, in his sixties, strongly built, must be strong as an ox to have survived to this point.”
Riggs breathed deeply. No doubt now. It was Charlie. “Where is he now?”
“The medevac took him to the UVA trauma center in Charlottesville.”
Riggs felt the presence next to him. He turned to find LuAnn staring at him; the look in her eyes was scary.
“George, was there any mention of a ten-year-old girl being with him?”
“I asked. The report said that the man came to for a few seconds and started shouting a name.”