Chapter 2
alone. On any other Sunday, John would be having lunch with his family and making plans for the evening, but on this day John's plans are set in stone.
Early this morning, a note found its way to the home of William and Melinda Phillips, proud parents of John and Amy Phillips, but this simple piece of paper held a dark and complex meaning. It read “We have your daughter; 150,000, or she dies.”
Amy has always been a very well-behaved child. She would brush her teeth every morning and night, make her bed, and say her prayers, so when Amy didn’t come home or call, her family became rather alarmed. At first, the Phillips' residents made calls to everyone they might know, without result. The midnight hour descended upon them; higher authorities were alerted. Since then, no one has slept, and as has been said before, the Phillips sat as close as one person might to another, yet they are all quite alone. You might be asking yourself one question. How would the Phillips pay the ransom? Perhaps the Government might help, or they would take up a collection. Not in this case. Mr William Phillips, of Phillips, Morris, and Associates, was a rather successful lawyer in his youth, and had gained such renown, he had opened a legal firm commonly known as Phillips, Morris, and Associates. So Mr. Phillips had no need for assistance, so much so, that he held the greatest confidence in his financial ability to regain his daughter. Today is Sunday, and on this day, the Phillips' residence has become a personal command center. Men and women were dressed in uniform, flitting about, sending and receiving orders, all in the hopes of finding one lost soul. Later that same evening, the phone rings in a room of people who are without breath. “This is Bill.” Answered Mr. Phillips. “Good evening Mr. Phillips.” was the return of a man with a disguised voice. “I take it that you understood the message I sent you?” Mr. Phillips replied. “Yes, and I have your money.” “All unmarked bills?” Returned the mysterious man. “Naturally, and I intend to pay every cent, but i need to speak to my daughter.” Replied Mr. Phillips. “Certainly.” Said the man on the phone. “Daddy?” Exclaimed Amy “Is that you?” Said Bill. “Yes Sweetie, I’m gonna get you out of this. Everything's gonna be ok, I love you, honey.” Bill could hear the man grab the phone from Amy. “Satisfied?” came the voice of the kidnapper. Bill replied sternly. “Yes, just don’t hurt her, I’ll do as you ask”The Kidnapper replied, “Jefferson Park, the bench by the statue, midnight, and if I see anybody in suits, you’ll find what’s left of Amy in the mail.”
The man leading the investigation signaled to keep him talking, but it was too late. “Listen, I promise to uphold my end of the deal, you have my word, just don’t hurt my daughter!” Click was the sound he heard on the other end of the line. “Hello, hello. Damn!” He slammed the phone down. “‘Did we get anything?” Asked Bill. “ Not a thing sir, he was rerouting the signal, but well keep working on it. John sat quietly; this was more than he could bear. It was
uncharacteristic for him to be so incapable, but what could he do? “I have nothing to worry about. We have the money; we heard her over the phone, but why doesn’t this make me feel better?" John shrugs his feelings of uncertainty with great difficulty. Fleeting moments of sleep travel to and fro, haunting our weary allies. That which plagues their visions, would sooner be left forgotten. All that could have been, and should have been, was swimming in a pool of regret and fear.
Somehow, when light first breaks, peace has been found. Only in that brief moment before fantasy crashes with reality, and then they remember, and relive agony once more. Stillness fills the air in just the same pattern before a storm. It is that same peace we cleave to, holding onto a hope that is all too deceptive. This morning is drenched with that very same hope. Rosalind, the housemaid and cook, prepares the morning breakfast in restricted silence, for tenants who lack an appetite. The Phillips may desire sustenance, but lack the ability to partake. “John, you really should eat your eggs.” said Mrs. Phillips. “I’m not hungry.” replied John “Thanks anyway.”
This was not completely true, John did hold a craving, just not for food. Action! Like most men John held the innate desire to be useful, that is why now more than ever, He needed to help. Hour after hour crept by as he continuously found himself stalking the minute hand through time. * For each moment that passed John lived through a new scenario, a way that he might have prevented this event. he could have gone with Amy, walked with her, watched over her. He could have fought the kidnappers and saved the day, but as had been said before, our greatest opportunities are those which are most easily lost. The clock strikes eleven and grasps there attention. “It’s time.” said Bill. The men from the FBI told Mr. Phillips that one of their agents would deliver the money, but given the nature of their demands, Bill refused the offer, and filled the necessary obligation for courier. It is now 11:50 at night, and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation for a little girl's freedom. Bill sits impatiently on a park bench feeling the warmth drain from him on this cold evening in March. Bill turns his left wrist to check the time, 11:55,
“Damn!” It is at moments like these when time moves slowest. Bill makes a feeble attempt to slow his breathing, and focuses on the task at hand. The familiar chime of a clock tower signals the end of their wait. “Finally,” thought Bill. “But there is no one here.” Bill was gripped with panic. “What if they’re late? What if they’re not coming? What if?” Ring ring. Bill reaches into his pocket for his cellphone. The phone is blank. “But if it’s not mine...” thought Bill. “The kidnapers!” Bill stood to his feet searching the immediate area. Ring ring. The recurring sound helped to locate the source. Bill reaches under the bench and finds the phone taped underneath. “Hello.” Answered Bill. “Put the money in the trash can and walk away,” said the disguised voice. Click. There was no time to respond.
Bill left the money in the receptacle and fled the scene. Every step rehearsed for this final performance, each step more than the last. Bill hails a cab driving by and directs him towards the rendezvous with men dressed in suits. He steps out of the cab and travels a block further to see a delivery truck parked suspiciously on the curb. without hesitation the door opens to welcome him in. “Good work Mr. Phillips,” was the greeting from Agent Finley. “Now we wait for the pickup.” Mr. Phillips turns to face Finley with an abundance of sincerity and says “Thank you for helping me save my daughter.” Finley replies. “Thank me when she’s safe at home.” There is nothing left to be said. The sound of breathing resonates throughout the van. Air exchanges back and forth, creating a hypnotic effect that lulls the occupants into silence. Two hours have passed; nothing has moved, and the money is untouched. “It’s getting cold in here.” said Finley. “The air’s on 90*,” it must be busted.” In fact the vehicle was in pristine condition, especially the heating system. All across the city a deep freeze was setting in, specifically on Main Street. A dark figure moves through the street mimicking shadows, drifting ever closer to Jefferson Park. The FBI had more than cameras in place, they had heat vision, both on the ground and in the sky, and held an unwavering view. A younger rookie, Agent Avery, had been watching the screen linked with thermal imagery, and if he had been a more experienced agent, he would have mentioned the strange growing cold spot on the screen. Mind you, he noticed it, he only lacked the courage to raise the alarm. As agent Avery studied the contents of the viewing screen, the cold grew more concentrated in the air and on the screen. A man cannot refrain from blinking for a great deal of time, and in this instant it was all the time that was needed. “AVERY!” shouted Finley, as he pointed at where the brief case had been. “You wanna explain to me what just happened?” “I don’t know sir” replied Avery. “I was watching, and then it was gone.” “It can’t be gone.” said Finley as he reached for his radio. “The money has been taken, I need eyes on our man! I repeat, I need eyes on our man! Did anyone see anything?” The radio’s reply was a resounding no. “I got nothing.” squawk, “Same here.” squawk, “I was watching it the whole time, and there was no one here.” Finley furrowed his brow, and said “Spread out, he can’t have gotten far. We gotta find this guy.” Hours have passed, and the sun is now creeping over the horizon to greet them with shame and sorrow. No man or woman was without vigilance, or determination, but no amount of resolution could bring comfort. In the hours since the drop-off, it had been discovered that when the money had been taken, it was no one's fault. Somehow, in an instant, the briefcase was safe in the trash receptacle, and then before an eye could shut, it was gone. It is now late in the afternoon, and the Phillips have huddled together in a broken mass. Mr. Phillips holds tightly to his wife and son. “It’s not your fault Bill.” said Melinda. “I know, it just feels that way.” replied Bill. “It just wasn’t possible.” thought John to himself. “Someone had to have seen something.” John sat in agony, imagining what he could have done differently. Maybe then, they might have a lead.
The familiar chime of a grandfather clock rings throughout the estate, and reminds everyone that it is six o’clock. Their house, more and more, became the center of organized chaos. Men and women of the FBI continued their plan of attack, feeble as it was grim. The hardest part of not seeing who made the pickup was that the Phillips had no choice but to trust the morality of the kidnappers. They had the money and the girl, and now all they can do is wait. “Ring, ring.” Here it is, the phone call they had been waiting for. “Ring, ring.” The FBI prepared to start a trace. “ Hello.” said Bill “Yes Mr. Phillips.” was the reply. “Your Money checked out.” Bill responded. “That’s great, now when can I see my daughter?” “ Why wait? Come and find her!” said the kidnapper. “What does that mean?” said Bill. On the other end, the man in black placed the phone down on the table and walked away. “Hello, hello!” screamed Bill. “We got it.” said Finley. “The corner of 12th, and Charleston. Let’s move people!” A wave of relief fell over Bill as he collapsed into a chair. At last there prayers were answered. Now all that's left is to find her. An agent placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder to comfort him, as an extraction team made their way to a fleet of black SUV’s, where all involved were filled with hope for the rescue of dear, sweet Amy. The world is most cruel when we need it the least, and nothing could prepare them for the darkness to come.
The familiar chime of a grandfather clock rings throughout the estate, and reminds everyone that it is six o’clock. Their house, more and more, became the center of organized chaos. Men and women of the FBI continued their plan of attack, feeble as it was grim. The hardest part of not seeing who made the pickup was that the Phillips had no choice but to trust the morality of the kidnappers. They had the money and the girl, and now all they can do is wait. “Ring, ring.” Here it is, the phone call they had been waiting for. “Ring, ring.” The FBI prepared to start a trace. “ Hello.” said Bill “Yes Mr. Phillips.” was the reply. “Your Money checked out.” Bill responded. “That’s great, now when can I see my daughter?” “ Why wait? Come and find her!” said the kidnapper. “What does that mean?” said Bill. On the other end, the man in black placed the phone down on the table and walked away. “Hello, hello!” screamed Bill. “We got it.” said Finley. “The corner of 12th, and Charleston. Let’s move people!” A wave of relief fell over Bill as he collapsed into a chair. At last there prayers were answered. Now all that's left is to find her. An agent placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder to comfort him, as an extraction team made their way to a fleet of black SUV’s, where all involved were filled with hope for the rescue of dear, sweet Amy. The world is most cruel when we need it the least, and nothing could prepare them for the darkness to come.
