Page 81 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“Don’t you want everyone to know the genius behind this whole plan? What point is fame if no one knows who you are?”

Kale grunted. Fred realized he was too caught up in the TV to pay any attention to him. He put all his energy into working the bindings against the metal screw in the folding chair.

With a sense of despair, he heard Melissa’s melodic voice float from the TV set. “Thank you, Ella Joy. I’m here with someone we’ve all wondered about over the years. Seventeen years ago she went through a horrific kidnapping, and today she’s coming forward to tell the rest of her story. Rachel Kessler is here with us in the Channel Six studios. In case you don’t remember her case, she’s the daughter of Rob Kessler, the founder of Kessler Tech. At the age of eight, she was held for ransom for almost a month. She escaped on her own. A truly extraordinary story, but after that she dropped out of the public eye. It turns out that she’s been living right here in San Gabriel for the past seven years. Today she contacted me and expressed the desire to introduce herself to you, her neighbors. Rachel, thanks for being with us here on the Channel Six News.”

“Thank you, and thanks for having me.”

Fred heard the nervousness in Rachel’s soft voice as she cleared her throat. He imagined how she must look. Did she have that wary look in her violet eyes? Was she smiling at all, or was she hiding that wonderful grin from the public? Don’t do it, Rachel, he wanted to scream. This idiot isn’t worth it.

Kale clapped his hands. “There she is,” he said gleefully.

Fred’s stomach clenched.

“I’m sure the question on most of our San Gabriel viewers’ minds is what you’ve been doing here, of all places you could choose? Why San Gabriel and not Paris or Argentina, or somewhere far more glamorous?”

“To be honest, I’m not a glamorous person at all. I came here to attend San Gabriel College, and I liked the city so much I wanted to stay. For most of my life, I’ve been devoted to helping animals, and that’s what I do here as well. I run the San Gabriel Refuge for Injured Wildlife. We take in wild animals that have been injured and we also work with some pets when people can’t afford veterinarian care. Basically if any animal needs help, it’s welcome at the Refuge. We’re a nonprofit that survives thanks to our generous donors.”

“Come on, Rachel, say what I told you to say!” the kidnapper yelled at the TV. “This isn’t about you and your fucking Refuge!”

Melissa spoke next. “I assume one of those donors is your father, Rob Kessler?”

“He has been, yes.” A hint of hesitation entered her voice. “Along with several other wonderfully generous investors.”

What was that all about? Fred didn’t have time to wonder. Just then, the cotton around Fred’s wrists separated down the middle with a scratchy rrip. If the kidnapper hadn’t still been shouting at the TV set, he would have noticed. Luckily, the sound was lost amid his furious curses.

“When you called me, you said you had a message you wanted to deliver,” said Melissa.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you the story of how I escaped my captivity, and how it has guided the direction of the rest of my life, and why it made me so dedicated to helping animals.”

It sounded as if Kale thumped the TV set with his fist. “That’s a start. Now mention BEAST. BEAST. Just like I told you.”

Fred saw his chance. While the kidnapper kept yelling, he ripped the rest of the bindings off his wrists. He spent a precious moment flexing his hands, getting the blood moving again, then inched up his blindfold to check the lay of the land. Kale was bent over the TV set, his back to Fred. Tall and gaunt, wearing a red plaid, long-sleeved shirt, he hunched over the TV, lit by its blue glow. His mud-brown hair was in a short ponytail.

Just as Fred had thought, he was the tech who’d referred to Rachel as “princess” that day at the Refuge. He gave a quick glance around the dim little apartment and located the knife and a gun, both sitting on a card table shoved up against one of the windows. God, this guy was stupid. Still, he might have more weapons on him. Better be as quick as possible.

Fred reached down, maneuvered the bindings off his feet, quietly rubbed his thighs to get the blood moving, then bounded to his feet. He was on top of Kale before the kid knew what hit him. As they crashed to the ground, Fred felt an elbow crush into his ribs. He ignored it.

“It’s over, Kale,” he growled.

“Get the fuck off me!”

He yanked Kale’s head backward and wedged an elbow around his throat. “I could kill you right now for what you did to Rachel, asshole. But I know she wouldn’t want me to. So we’re going to get up and go outside and you’re going to surrender to the fucking chief of police. Got it?”

“Fuck you.” Kale twisted around and tried to bite him, which Fred figured gave him license to knock him out. He did that by banging his head against the floor. Then he hauled himself to his feet, shook his arms and legs out—pins and needles everywhere—and slung Dale over his shoulder in the classic fireman’s hold.

---