Chapter Fourteen: More Help

      No one said a word for several seconds, then Trixie reached a shaking hand toward the note.
    “Don’t touch it,” Dan warned, and Trixie’s hand froze.
    “Some detective I’d make,” she said, with a regretful shake of her head.
Mr. Wheeler, with admirable restraint, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Use this, Trixie. I’ll alert the police.”
    Carrying the note as if it were some kind of an explosive device, the group slowly made its way back into the apartment.
Mr. Wheeler insisted they wait for the police before opening the envelope, and Trixie chafed with impatience.

    While they were fixing tea and toast, Jim gently took Trixie’s hand in his. “Dad’s only doing what the police asked him to. This is just as hard for him as it is for you.”
    “Oh, Jim, I know it is, and for you too. I’m sorry I just can’t seem to hide my feelings.”
    “And I never want you to,” Jim said, hugging her.
    “All we seem to do is make tea or hot chocolate!” Trixie noted as she filled the pot.
    “I think when people are under stress it gives them something to do. Making it, drinking it; humans are strange creatures, and everyday things help to make us feel a semblance of normalcy.”
    Trixie gave a small laugh. “Even I know what you mean by that.”
    Jim put down the tray he was stacking with mugs. “That’s because you are so much smarter than you ever give yourself credit for, Trix.”
    Trixie blushed. “I’ll never be as smart as you,” she said.
    Jim leaned forward and brushed her forehead with a kiss. “In so many ways you’re already a thousand times smarter than I could ever be.”
    “Oops, sorry,” said Dan from the doorway. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    Jim laughed. “Come and give us a hand, the police should be here any minute.”

    It was difficult for Trixie to let someone else take charge, but she resolutely kept quiet whilst Matthew Wheeler handed the envelope to the Sergeant Ryder.
    The sergeant wore gloves and carefully opened the envelope down one side to avoid damaging the actual seal. Using a small pair of tweezers, he extracted the note and laid it down on the coffee table where all could see.
   
            WE HAVE THEM
            3 MILLION DOLLARS WILL GET THEM BACK
            WE’LL BE IN TOUCH

    Whilst they were reading, the sergeant picked up the envelope and using the tweezers withdrew something else—the Bob-Whites gasped as a lock of hair, was placed on the table, its long, soft golden strands spreading before their very eyes.     Di burst into tears and Mart, freckles standing out on his face, kept his arm tightly around her.
    “That’s that then,” said Mr. Wheeler. Without even speaking to the horrified group, he flipped open his phone and in seconds had been connected. “Three million in cash. I want it in six hours,” he said and snapped the phone closed.
    “Six hours!” Mart couldn’t help sounding impressed.
    “That is fairly unusual, Mr. Wheeler,” Sergeant Ryder said.
    “Sorry, everyone.” Matthew Wheeler laid a hand on his adopted son’s shoulder, for Jim’s face was frozen in shock, his eyes fixed on the golden hair.
    “I just…it makes it all so real.” He made to touch it, then drew his hand back. “That was so dumb.”

    The detective shook his head. “It’s fine, Jim. “ He turned to Matthew Wheeler. “The hair’s been cut, so we can’t use it for a full DNA profile. If you can get us a sample of your wife’s DNA we can use that to confirm it’s your daughter’s, but from the looks on your faces, I’m assuming there’s no doubt in your minds.”
    “None, I’m afraid. I can get a sample of my wife’s DNA sent from Sleepyside, but I’m guessing once I’ve updated her she’ll be on a plane and on her way.”
    “I’ll bag this and mark it for the FBI. Frankly with their resources they’ll get results a lot faster than we will.”  He glanced around at the still shocked group. “I know this is upsetting, but it might tell us something about the kidnappers. At the very least it’s a small lock; kidnap victims are sometimes completely shorn.”
    “Honey would hate that,” Trixie said, and Di nodded vigorously.  
    “I want my sister back,” Jim said. “I don’t care if she ends up bald.”
    “We get that, Jim,” Dan said. “But often it’s done to increase the fear of the hostage or to humiliate them and the fact that they haven’t done that, well I’d say it’s a good sign.”
    “Yes, it is,” the sergeant agreed. “Forgive me for saying so, but you young people seem to know an awful lot about investigations.”
    Mr. Wheeler gave him the smallest of smiles. “You’re right, Sergeant. Trixie, along with my daughter, are planning to open their own detective agency one day, and believe me, they will do it. They’ve solved any number of serious crimes, always with the help of their fellow Bob-Whites. As for Dan here, he’s planning a career with the police, so they do have a very definite ability.”

    “I’m still kind of stuck on three million dollars in six hours,” Mart admitted.
    “It’s quite simple, Mart.” Mr. Wheeler explained, “As soon as you alerted me to the fact that Honey was missing, I knew this was a very real possibility. I organised to liquidate ten million in assets straight away.”
    “What do we do now?” Trixie asked
    “The FBI will want to talk to you. I have already been in touch—via back channels, so they are expecting a call.”                 Sergeant Ryder stood up. “I know how anxious you are for news; I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
    “Excuse me, sir,” Dan said, his dark eyes serious. “Apparently, the press have been snooping around. Can we ask them not to print?”
    “Unfortunately, no.” The older man shook his head. “We won’t release any of this information, of course, but it’s amazing what they manage to ferret out.”
    “What about some of the people we’ve told you about?” Trixie asked.
    “So far, we haven’t turned up anything suspicious, except that your friends over the way have more than their fair share of speeding tickets. That’s where the young fellow Jeff had been, by the way, they told us that when we questioned them.”
    The Bob Whites exchanged glances. When asked, Jeff, who worked part time at Rhumba’s Café as well as his parents’ restaurant alongside Jim and Brian, had denied knowing anyone in the apartment building other than the boys, Kyle and Mick.
    “He told us he didn’t really know anyone else who lived here,” Jim said, after getting a nod from Trixie.
    “They say he’s only recently met them,” the sergeant said. “Might be true.”
    “What about the man I saw hanging around?” Trixie asked.
    “We’ve spoken to everyone at the complex, but none of them have guests at the moment, Trixie. One of the residents does recall seeing a man in his twenties once or twice, but they couldn’t add to your description. Have you seen him since?”
    Trixie shook her head.
    “It could just be a coincidence or it could mean you were right all along. You call us if you see him again.”
    “Mr. Wheeler told you about our talking to a lady at the college, didn’t he?” If she couldn’t follow one lead, then she was at least going to follow another.
    “What? Oh yes, Trixie.” The policeman’s tone was kind.
    “Do you think it could do any harm for us to find out who that was?”
    “No, I don’t think so. A kidnapper would hardly drop the assignments off, would he?” he asked with a smile.
    “That’s not what we think,” Trixie said. She considered explaining their theory but the sergeant was gathering his things and she decided against it.
    Mr. Wheeler said he would walk the sergeant to his car and the two men left the apartment.

    “What do we think?” Mart asked as soon as the door had closed behind them.
    “Apart from the fact that it can help us narrow down the time, it might give us other clues,” Trixie said
    “Like what?” Di asked, wiping her tear-streaked face.
    “Well, it depends on where and when this person got the assignments, but knowing Brian, he wouldn’t have run out and left Honey to do most of the work; he’d have waited until things were well under way.”
    “I’m not sure how that helps. Except to point out that our brother isn’t a lot like either one of us,” Mart said
    All of the Bob-Whites allowed themselves to smile at this.
    “Brian must have run into the person between here and the college and that only takes…” Trixie trailed off and turned to Jim questioningly.
    “Less than twenty minutes walk, Brian could run it in eight to ten.”
    “If Brian went out late, then maybe whoever he ran into wasn’t far from here when he did run into them and maybe…”
    “And maybe he or she saw something else,” Dan finished. “It’s worth checking out.”
    “What about Jeff?” Di asked. “When Jim called him about the other night he lied, and he was there, with those brothers.”
    “But if that’s true, why lie to us and tell the police the truth?” Jim said
    “Maybe he was seen going into the apartment, after all it isn’t a crime.” Trixie frowned. “But you’re right, Di, we need to check him out too.”

     The FBI agents looked almost exactly as representatives of their ilk appeared on television except, as Di later noted, they weren’t quite as glamorous. Two agents came into the apartment, and Trixie, anxious and distressed, managed to hold her tongue, wanting to hear what they had to say. There were soon folders and papers spread across the coffee table as well as the inevitable coffee mugs.

    The senior agent, a lean man in his mid-forties, introduced himself as Special Agent Jack Briggs; his partner, a fair-haired young woman not much taller than Trixie, was Special Agent Jessica Beech. It was on the tip of Trixie’s tongue to ask what was so special about them, but she realised that her nerves were getting to her and remained quiet.
    “Sergeant Ryder has handed over everything they have on this case, and I understand that a lot of this information was gathered by you,” he hesitated before continuing, “young men and women.”
    The Bob-Whites gave a collective nod and Trixie suddenly felt a knot in her stomach. What if they had somehow put Honey and Brian in even more danger? What if their “meddling”, as Sleepyside’s Sergeant Molinson was inclined to call it, had caused problems rather than solved them? She had to know the truth, no matter what it was. “Yes, sir,” she said, speaking for the group. “We thought that we might be able to find out what had happened, or who might have taken Honey and Brian.
    Agent Briggs nodded. “Pretty impressive work, if I may say so.”
    The Bob-Whites breathed sighs of relief, and Trixie finally found the courage to ask a question. “Do you think we’re right about the Campbells?”
    The Agent hesitated before responding. “From just a cursory glance it certainly seems like a strong possibility; this,” he said, holding up the note that Regan had faxed from the Manor House, “is pretty clear.”
    “What happens now?” Mart asked.
    “You leave us to do our jobs; you’ve given us a great deal to go on with, but now it’s time for us to handle things.”
    “We don’t want to just sit here,” Trixie protested before anyone else could speak.
    “You can still help,” Agent Beech assured them. “No one knows your friends better than you, and even now things may come back to you that are useful to the investigation.”
    Trixie wasn’t at all sure that the woman wasn’t just being kind but she nodded gratefully nonetheless.
     Minutes later, Mr. Wheeler left the apartment with the agents, the three adults standing outside on the balcony deep in conversation.   

    “What do you suppose they’re saying?” Di wondered.
    Dan and Jim exchanged glances, their expressions dark, and Trixie looked from one to the other. “What, what do you think they’re talking about?”
    Jim’s hand trembled slightly as he began to gather up the leftover mugs and stack them on the tray. “Dad’s asking how likely it is that we’ll get them back alive.”
    “No, he can’t be asking that!” Di cried, violet eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t even think that, let alone say it!”
    Mart pulled her against him. “Keep your dire predictions to yourself; that’s our brother out there.”
    “And it’s my sister!” Jim snapped in return. “But burying my head in the sand isn’t going to help. Besides, she asked.”
    “It’s always a possibility with a kidnapping,” Dan added in a quiet voice.
    “Not this time,” Trixie said, suddenly rushing forward. “We did want to know, but we have to concentrate on trying to find them, that’s what’s important!”
    “And we shouldn’t squabble,” Di added tearfully.
    The Bob-Whites exchanged glances and then met in the middle of the room, arms securely wound around one another.
    “Sorry,” both Mart and Jim mumbled.

    It was in this attitude that Mr. Wheeler found them when he returned a moment later. “Has something happened? Did the police call? Did the kidnappers call?” He asked, taking in their anguished expressions.
    “No, Dad, sorry,” Jim hurried to reassure his father. “Things are just kind of getting to us.” He hesitated, wondering he should raise the issue with his already-troubled parent.
    Trixie spoke instead. “We were wondering what you were saying to the agents and some of us thought...” She gulped and struggled to put the horrible idea into words.
    Matthew Wheeler, realising what she was trying to say, quickly motioned for the young people to sit down. “I had to ask, but the FBI believes that we will get Honey and Brian back safely. For one thing, it’s a good sign that they took Brian with them. They could just as easily have…” he trailed off, knowing from the looks on their faces that they knew how that sentence ended and didn’t need to hear it. “Apparently, this is a time when my wealth affords me an advantage. The authorities think that seriously harming or,” he took a deep breath, “killing Brian or Honey would leave the kidnappers open to a lifetime of persecution by someone like myself, and they are right about that. I would use all of my money and influence to hound them to the ends of the earth should something like that happen. That’s not something they want to deal with.” He looked around at the tired, drawn faces of the young people.
    The agents had not been convinced by his plan to hand over the ransom, but Matthew Wheeler was a man used to getting his own way.  “Maybe we should try and go back to sleep. None of us got that much sleep last night and the FBI will call later in the morning with an update. We’ll take it from there. Until we hear from the kidnappers again, there’s not that much we can do.”
    The Bob-Whites looked as if they’d like to protest, but they were simply too worn out to argue, and Mr. Wheeler went into the bedroom to make a call to his wife.

    Subdued, Di and Dan began to clean up the remains of their early morning snack. Jim and Trixie slumped down together in one armchair, clutching one another’s hands.
    After a few moments Dan, who after finishing in the kitchen had been pacing back and forth, moved to stand at the window staring out into the driveway almost as if he expected to see some sort of clue.
    “It’s too early for calls on the residents, I suppose,” he said.
    “I think the FBI wanted to handle that,” Jim noted
    “They didn’t exactly ask us not to,” Trixie protested.
    “Maybe Dad’s right and we should try and rest for an hour or so.”
    Mr. Wheeler returned as Jim spoke. “Your mother will be here late this afternoon,” he said. “I don’t have the heart or the right to ask her to stay away any longer; besides, I need her. Whether or not she’ll ever forgive me for not telling her about the threats I don’t know.”
    The Bob-Whites exchanged sympathetic looks. Mr. Wheeler sounded terrible, and Mrs. Wheeler, alone in Paris, must have been beside herself with worry.
    “I’m glad Mother’s coming, too,” Jim said. He stood up and placed a supportive arm on his father’s shoulder.
    “I wish my Moms was here,” Trixie said suddenly, tears blinking in her blue eyes.
    “And Dad,” added Mart, as he and Di came back into the living room.
    “Sorry, Mart, Trixie,” Mr. Wheeler said swiftly. “I spoke to them again just after we settled down for the night and forgot to tell you with the ransom note and then with the FBI here. They were going to drive down from Canada and then catch a flight out here. They’ll be in about an hour after Madeleine; we’ll pick them all up together.” He glanced at his watch.
    “What about Bobby?” Trixie asked, her voice unsteady as she thought of her youngest brother.
    “Your parents have left him with your uncle. Obviously, he doesn’t know any details about what’s happened.” He reached down to pat Trixie’s hand. “I don’t know if your parents will ever be able to forgive me either.”
    “It’s not your fault!” Trixie cried and Mart echoed his sister.
    Matthew Wheeler shook his red head and lowered his husky frame into the opposite armchair. “Neither Honey nor Brian would be in this danger if I were a different man.”
    “Dad, that’s just plain crazy,” Jim said. “Whoever did this is responsible, not you for being successful, not Trixie and I for leaving Honey and Brian alone, the people who took them—whoever they are—they’re to blame, and that’s all there is to it.”                                                                                             
    The other Bob-Whites nodded their agreement, and Mr. Wheeler glanced at his watch. “It’s just after six-thirty; let’s all just
close our eyes for a half an hour."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                MBW:MAIN                                                                                                                                                                                                                             NEXT

Author's notes: I have made even more changes in these chapters, meaning that errors probably abound. Dana had now added her scientific expertise to her edits, preventing me from being completely naff.  If my law enforcement procedures etc ring false, you can infer I haven't paid close enough attention or I can just claim artistic licence. In my head this story is set around ten years ago before the I-Phone came into being.
Word count: 3040
    Disclaimer: Trixie et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.