Chapter ten

After Jack threatened the man with bodily harm, Sara's doctor in Denver had revealed that she had gone to several specialists because she wanted to have another baby. But they hadn't been willing to risk her life or that of a child. They told her that she couldn't carry a child to term, which was what her doctor had already tried to explain to her. Then he had suggested adoption. But the last time he had seen her she had seemed even more depressed, so he had prescribed an anti-depression medication.

Jack knew about such drugs, and he also knew about their side effects, which was why he would never take that damned stuff again! Psychotic behavior was the worst side effect, and he had to wonder if it was the drug that had finally caused Sara to do something so radical as kidnap another woman's baby? But then he stopped to think. This wasn't just any child; DJ was his child. So did she really hate him so much that she'd done it out of spite, or was it because her sick mind had seen too much of Charlie in DJ? He could still recall her saying how much he looked like Charlie that day in the grocery store.

"Damn, I should have seen this coming!" he cried as he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. Jack was seated in his truck outside Sara's doctor's office in Denver, trying to imagine himself in her shoes. What would he do, if he was in her situation? He was certain that she wouldn't be able to take the baby out of the country. No matter what she had said to Beverly, there was no way she could get a passport for him. So what would she do?

Even though he had no idea where to look, he started the engine and put the truck into gear. He couldn't just sit there doing nothing! The sun was beginning to set, and he was worried that if he didn't find DJ today, he might never find him!

The only thing that made Jack feel any better about the situation was that DJ hadn't been taken by someone in order to get money. Those kind of people often got rid of the kidnap victim, even when they got the money. But in this case, Sara wanted a baby, so most likely she would take very good care of DJ. It was clear to him now that Sara had taken DJ to replace the son she had lost, the son she felt he had taken from her. But now that she had him, where would she go?

Jack drove slowly until he saw a fast food place on the right. He pulled into the drive-through lane, knowing that he needed something to eat if he was going to continue to search. His last meal had been at 07:00 that morning, and now it was twelve hours later. So Jack ordered two hamburgers and a large cup of coffee. And when he got them, he drove back down the street to the park he had just passed. There he sat in the truck facing a grassy area where several children were playing with a dog, an Irish setter. They were throwing a stick, which the dog would chase and bring back to them.

At first Jack wondered if the dog would prefer a duck or some sort of game to retrieve, which was after all what he'd been bred to do. But watching the dog also brought another idea to Jack's mind. Sara had often mentioned having an aunt named Tildy who owned an Irish setter. The aunt was her mother's unmarried sister, and when Sara was a child she would go and spend part of her summer vacation at her aunt's house, where she played with the dog. Then her mother had died when Sara was twenty, and she and the aunt became very close. Sara had said it was almost like having her mother back again.

But then the year Charlie was born, Aunt Tildy had died suddenly. Sara had been very upset, saying how unfair it was that neither her mother nor her aunt would ever get to see her son. Then the following month Sara had gotten a letter from the administrator of her aunt's estate, telling her that the entire estate had been left to her. Jack had forgotten about the house until just now. He didn't even know if Sara still owned it. But he knew one way to find out, so he took his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed her father's number.

His phone call to Sara's father had been unpleasant but successful. Sara had never sold the house, so Jack asked him for directions. And once he had them, and once he had convinced the man that he wasn't going to hurt his daughter….who he said was obviously mentally ill because of all the terrible things Jack had done to her….Jack drove out of the park and headed north on the highway.

The little college town of Boulder, Colorado wasn't as little as Jack remembered it, but it still didn't take him long to locate the big old Victorian house, which was surrounded by a tall iron fence. The bushes on the inside of the fence, which were very overgrown, kept Jack from seeing anything on the other side. So Jack parked his truck down the street a ways, and then he walked toward the big house, hoping to get a look at it from the driveway, where iron gates were the only things blocking his view.

In a way Jack was glad it was dark now, because otherwise the neighbors in this very exclusive neighborhood might call the cops if they saw a man snooping around. Never the less, Jack was very cautious and stayed in the shadows, avoiding the streetlamps, which looked like the original from the turn of the twentieth century. Jack figured that the houses in the neighborhood had been built for the rich cattle ranchers and mine owners who came here from the East well over a hundred years ago. He had no idea what sort of folks lived here now, but he could tell by the expensive cars he saw in the other driveways that they didn't buy their clothes at the local super store. This made him wonder how Sara had managed to pay the taxes and upkeep on the place for the past sixteen years or so? But since he had other more urgent things on his mind, Jack shoved the thought aside and went back to work.

A mailbox stood to one side of the drive, and Jack decided to look inside, hoping there would be something in it that would tell him if anyone was living in the old house. He struck pay dirt when he pulled out a bunch of flyers and envelopes. On the top of the pile of mostly junk mail was an envelope from a bank in Boulder, and it was addressed to Sara E. O'Neill!

Jack shoved the mail back into the box, and then with his back to the fence, tendrils of vines and other plants poking him in the neck and head, Jack sidled up to the gate and peered between the iron bars. To his delight there was a car parked on the drive, and there lights on inside the house! Sara and DJ were in there! Now all he needed to do was get inside, and then he would be able to get his son back! But the tall fence would be a problem. He could see the heavy chain that was wrapped around the iron bars of the gates, and the thick padlock on the inside that was holding the thick chain in place. Sara had made certain there would be no easy way for anyone to get inside. So now he'd have to climb over the fence with just one good leg, and he wasn't at all sure he could manage it.

Jack was walking along the fence trying to select the best place to climb over, when he suddenly saw a police car racing toward his location. Some nosy neighbor must have seen him lurking about and called the police! The emergency lights were flashing, but there was no siren. And though Jack considered running to his truck and trying to get away, he knew they'd catch him.

So, since acting guilty would only cause him more trouble, he stayed where he was, greeting the officers in a friendly manner when they got out of the car, which they parked across the end of the driveway. "Hello! I guess you must be wondering what I'm doing here," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack was trying to act confident, but in reality he was worried shitless that the cops wouldn't believe his story. Even if they did believe him, they would contact the Colorado Springs PD, or the Denver PD, and someone would reveal that the FBI wanted him for questioning, and then he'd be thrown in jail!

Jack was so frustrated he could scream, but just then from behind the second officer he saw the back door of the patrol car open. Then he saw his ex-father-in-law get out of the black and white car, and Jack didn't know whether to hug him or to make a break for it after all.

"Mr. O'Neill?" the cop who had been driving asked.

"Yes, that's my name. What's yours?" Jack asked, figuring civility might be the smarter way to go.

"Sergeant Thomas, and this is my partner, Simpson. This man came to us with a pretty remarkable story, so we called the FBI to check it out. They said you're wanted for questioning in a kidnapping."

"Fuck!" Jack swore under his breath. "Did they also tell you it's my son that was kidnapped, and that my crazy ex-wife….sorry, Jim, but it's true….is the one who took him?"

"Jack, I told them everything. The more I thought about it, I knew I couldn't keep blaming you for what went wrong between you and Sara. She's always been a bit high-strung, but I never thought she'd do anything this awful."

"I didn't either, Jim, but it looks we were both wrong. So what do we do now?" Jack asked, looking at the police sergeant. "I'm worried if you tell her you're here and why, or if you just go barging in there, you could scare her into doing something worse," Jack responded. He was at a loss. He'd hadn't been trained to handle hostage negotiations. His job had been to go in after all negotiation had failed, to sneak in and kill the kidnappers. But those people had been strangers to him, whereas this time it was personal. His son and his ex-wife were in there!

"I agree, Jack. I'm not sure anymore what she's capable of," Sara's father admitted sadly.

"Do you think she's armed?" the other officer asked.

"No, I don't think so. Sara hates guns," Jack attested. She had always hated that he was in the military and that he carried a gun. She had particularly hated that he kept a gun at home, which was what had led to the death of their son.

"Okay, but we can't be certain, so we need to use caution," the policeman stated, and the other men nodded.

TBC