Blindside

sure you know. You’re coming in at Ackerman’s Air Field?”
    “Yes, soon now.”
    She checked that Miles Kettering had directions from Ackerman’s Air Field to her house before disconnecting.
    She got a call not five minutes later from Glen Hodges, the SAC of the Knoxville Bureau field office.
    “I’ve got three agents in the car with me. We’ll be in Jessborough about two hours from now, give or take because of the weather. Is there any more you can tell me?”
    “No. Everyone’s out looking for the gray van, and doing general surveillance on anyone looking like either of the two men. I gave Agent Savich the partial license plate of the van. He said he was going to call Agent Butch Ashburn.”
    “Yeah, Savich just called me. Agent Ashburn will get the owner of that van in no time.”
    “Agent Savich and Mr. Kettering, the boy’s father, will be here soon as well.”
    “Savich didn’t say what he was doing involved in a kidnapping? Last I heard he was in L.A. playing around in one of the Hollywood studios.”
    “I’m sure I don’t know, Agent Hodges. I just assumed he was assigned to the case with Agent Ashburn.”
    “Oh no, Savich is the unit chief for the Criminal Apprehension Unit at headquarters.”
    “What’s that?”
    “He works mostly with computers, setting up databases and data-mining programs to help catch criminals. TheBureau set up this unit for him and that’s what he and eight or so other agents do.”
    “Sounds like something I’d want real simplified.”
    Glen Hodges laughed. “I’m with you, Sheriff. Oops, we’re starting to break up. You get in these mountains, and you’re down faster than you can catch a snake. You take care of the boy, ma’am. We’re coming as fast as we can.”
    Katie slipped her cell back into her shirt pocket. She asked herself again what more she could do. She didn’t come up with an answer.
    At nearly ten o’clock that night the worst fall storm in twenty years—according to the weather folk—seemed to be fizzling out. There was less rain, but the howling winds were still a nice side show, keeping people hunkered down in their homes, hoping their trees wouldn’t be uprooted.
    She couldn’t imagine being up in a small airplane in this wind. She looked out Keely’s bedroom window, north, toward Ackerman’s Air Field, and said a little prayer.
    All in all, they’d lucked out, Katie thought as she closed the window and walked over to Keely’s bed and gave her a kiss and smoothed her eyebrows. “I can tell you’re awake, sweetie. You just smiled. You love the sound of the rain, don’t you?”
    “Oh yes, Mama, and the wind howling like banshees—that’s what Grandma says. You told me you liked it, too, Mama, when you were my age.”
    “Yes, I remember pressing my nose against the window, wanting lightning, more lightning, and with it, the boom of thunder—the closer the better.”
    “Can I go press my nose—”
    “No, not tonight. You’re going to sleep now, Keely.”
    “Is Sam okay?”
    “Yep, he’s just fine.” One more kiss and Katie sat by her daughter until her breathing evened into sleep. Then she walked to the window and pressed her nose against the glass. It wasn’t the same. Her nose was cold and shewanted to sneeze. She left Keely’s bedroom, knowing she’d pass the night easily, the sound of the rain a lullaby to her daughter.
    Wade had had only one emergency call some twenty minutes before from Mr. Amos Halley, who’d gotten himself stuck in his garage when the electricity had gone out and the door opener wouldn’t work. Even the manual override was stuck. Wade, pulled from his dinner, had nearly cried, but he’d gone over to the Halley house where Mrs. Halley stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her bosom, shaking her head, and told him, “Leave the old man in there, Wade. If you let him out, he’ll just go drinking down at the tavern.”
    Wade had tried his best to get the garage door open, but the sucker hadn’t budged. Then the electricity came back on, and he was a hero, at least to Amos, who claimed he was near to croaking of a heart attack it was so black and airless inside the garage.
    As Wade downshifted his jeep, he saw Amos Halley drive off toward the east side of town—that’s where the Long Shot Tavern had been hunkered down since just after World War II.
    The rain had lightened up considerably, but winds still buffeted the jeep. There would probably be some flooding, but nothing they