Echoes of Danger

Dana gave him another disbelieving stare. “Are you listening to me? They looted and then burned down my house and shot at us!” Her voice rose an octave higher with each word.

Sheriff Radford rubbed the salt-and-pepper beard stubble on his fat jaw. “It don’t sound good, do it? But I declare, I ain’t never heard of any trouble from that Unity woman and her kids. You sure you saw some of them?”

“Yes, I saw two young men dressed the way they all dress, from what I could tell. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s some sort of revenge against me, maybe because I talked to her the other day about my bull getting killed. But why they’ve decided to pick on me is beyond reason. Whoever sent them meant business. They tore up what was left of my house and burned the rest. Now everything I had is gone.”

“Think you could identify them if you saw them again?” the sheriff asked, his beefy hand still rubbing a hole in his unshaven face as he pondered all the details.

Glad that he was finally comprehending what she was trying to tell him, Dana pushed on. “Maybe. It was dark and I only got a glimpse, but I could tell from their actions, they looked young—two of them, dressed in what looked like baggy clothes and big coats—that much I remember.” She let out a long sigh. “I’m pretty sure they shot my breeding bull, and now this. And they looted the house right after the storm. I can’t imagine what they’re looking for, though.”

The old man leaned back against the planked side of the house wall. “I’ll go ‘round and have a talk with some of your neighbors first thing in the morning. Maybe somebody saw something.”

“Talk?” Dana pushed smoke-scented hair out of her eyes. “These people killed an expensive animal and then destroyed what little was left of my home. And that’s just this week. Goodness knows what they’re planning next. You need to do more than talk. If these kids are from that church, you need to arrest them before somebody else gets hurt.”

“I can’t arrest anybody until I have proof!” he shouted, his eyes bulging. At Dana’s look of surprise, he added, “And you’d better stop accusing Ms. Roark’s pack. That woman has become a pillar of this community and she’s got lots of money tied up in that place out there. We have to consider all the angles before we go blazing in on a high horse, accusing her of things.”

Dana gave him a puzzled look. “I’m not accusing her. I just think somebody living there isn’t exactly nice. And I think she needs to know about it. When I talked to her yesterday, she practically threatened Stephen herself.”

“I can’t believe it’s anybody from her place,” the sheriff responded, shaking his head. “That woman makes them kids behave. Holds them to a tight schedule and has them praying all day and night. They plum don’t have time for much outside activity.”

It suddenly hit Dana why the sheriff was being so indifferent toward her. The Roark woman had helped the man get reelected. That, plus the fact that the sheriff was lazy and didn’t really want to put himself in any danger, made Dana think she could give up ever finding the criminals who’d destroyed her home. No, Sheriff Radford wouldn’t make any effort to arrest someone who might put his own life in danger. He only worked enough to keep himself supplied in liquor and cigarettes.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, just to test his thin mettle.

“I’ll post guards on your land,” he supplied, pleased that he’d done his sworn duty. “Keep any mischief-makers away.”

“Mischief?” Dana laughed bitterly. “I’d call arson and slaughter a little more than mischief, Sheriff.”

“Crazy kids,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you sure you got a good look at them?” he asked again, his words stretching out in a long whine.

“Not a real good one,” she admitted. “They stayed hidden like the cowards they are, but I saw them in the light from the fire.” She glared pointedly at him. “And you’re just as big a coward. You’ve sold out the people of Prairie Heart, Sheriff. How do you sleep at night?”

Anger puffed his face to a glowing red. From the yellowed glow of the porch light, Dana saw she’d struck her mark. The man sure didn’t have a poker face.

“I do what has to be done,” he said in a wheedling voice, “to keep the peace around here. And since you ain’t got one dab of proof against anybody, I suggest you stop barking up the wrong tree.”

Dana lifted a finger to his chest, poking him as she spoke. “Oh, you’re right about that. I am barking up the wrong tree. I’ve lost everything, but you don’t care, do you?” Pushing him away with a repulsive jab, she added, “I guess I’ll have to deal with this on my own.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Dana,” he warned. Then his wide face took on a sympathetic demeanor. “How ’bout I give you a little money to tide you over?”

Dana wanted to spit at him. He was telling her not to do anything stupid, when he was the biggest idiot of all! “No, thanks. I don’t want your money, Sheriff. I’d prefer some justice, though.”

Looking affronted, he said, “You don’t know Caryn the way I do. She’s a very peace-loving woman. She wouldn’t do something like this.”

Dana was already heading back to the truck, where Stephen sat watching. Then she turned to glare back up at him. “You know, I never once accused her of any wrongdoing. I just happen to believe it’s someone living on her property. Seems you’re mighty worried about that woman. Sure makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

“I ain’t hiding nothing,” Sheriff Radford called out a little too defensively. “And just to prove it, I’ll send them deputies out right now.”

“I feel better already,” Dana called. She got in the truck and slammed both palms against the steering wheel, a fresh batch of tears brimming down her cheeks. She was going to have to take Stephen to a safe place. And she needed some time to think about what to do next. She was going to have to ask Tony Martin for help sooner than she’d planned.

Dawn greeted them as they entered Kansas City by way of Interstate 35. They’d left Prairie Heart behind. They’d left their little corner of the Flint Hills behind. They’d left their charred and splintered farmhouse behind. They’d left their home, their land, their life, behind.

Dana had made a snap decision, based on a long stretch of determination. She only hoped Tony would welcome them and help them. Maybe, at least, Stephen would be safe in the city until she could figure out what to do next.

After waking Emma and Frederick to ask them to look after her stock, she’d discussed her options with them. She still had her cattle; she could try to save them at least.

“We’ll herd them over to Harvey’s place,” Frederick assured her. He called several burly, dependable, well-armed men to meet him at the crack of dawn. He’d get the animals to a safe pasture. “And I don’t mind shooting any trespassers, thieves, or travelers, not one bit.”

“Tell the men I’ll pay them all back, somehow,” Dana promised. “When this mess is settled.”

“That Sheriff Radford,” Emma hissed, her pink foam curlers contrasting sharply with her bright red-and-yellow-flowered housedress. “We’ll vote that lazy old man out come next election!”

“Somebody’s got him in their pocket,” Dana explained, her instincts telling her that someone was Caryn Roark. “Voting doesn’t count out as nicely as cold cash.”

“Where you going, child?”

“Kansas City. To see Tony.”

Emma smiled knowingly. “‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”

“I don’t have any pride left, that’s for sure,” Dana said. “I don’t have anything.”

“Poor child. We could take care of you two. You know you can stay with us, don’t you?”

“I won’t put you in danger. I’m going to fight this, Emma, but I have to come up with a plan. I can’t fight if I don’t have any ammunition, and if I don’t know who I’m fighting.”

“Bless your heart. You be careful, you hear?”

“I’m afraid for Stevie,” Dana replied by way of an explanation.

Emma nodded. Family came first, no matter the cost. “Go to Tony then. Let him help you. He’s always wanted you with him, anyway.”

Dana looked away. “But he doesn’t want Stevie.”

“If he loves you, he’ll take Stevie, too.”

And so Dana and Stephen had taken off into the night, fleeing. Dana had never run from anything, not hard work, not tragedy, not her responsibilities, but now, for Stephen’s sake, she was officially on the lam.

She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she found her way home again.

“Do people really get up this early?” Tony asked, one eye cocked toward the digital clock over his elaborate computer system. “And did I ask you yet, what in the world are you doing here, and what’s that smell?” He held two long, white fingers to his nostrils, pinching them together while making a disgusted face.

Dana pushed Stephen onto a nearby black leather sofa, ignoring the clutter of newspapers and high-tech magazines littering one corner. “Try to go back to sleep, sport.” Then she turned to Tony again. “Tony, we need your help. Otto got shot, then half the house got blown away in a tornado, then they burned down the rest. Somebody’s trying to either scare us or get something from us. Or just plain murder us.”

Tony was wide-awake now. “All of this happened in Prairie Heart? Maybe I’m living in the wrong town.”

Dana looked over at the man she’d once thought she loved. Thank goodness she’d figured out it wasn’t love that held her to Tony. Convenience, friendship, companionship, loyalty—it was all of these, but not love. She hadn’t realized that until this moment, when in the light of harsh morning, she saw him for himself.

He was handsome, in a scrawny Nicholas Cage kind of way. He looked like a Kansas farm boy, but he had the brains of a rocket scientist. His entire head was covered with red tufts of thick, coarse hair that looked like rusty steel wool. Dana had never once seen him comb it. He wore a holey Star Trek T-shirt that featured a faded Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk. Tony was a Trekkie, but he was also a Techie. People teased her brother, calling him a geek, but Tony was the real geek. He was very smart. Too smart.

In their junior year of high school, he’d been one of the best basketball players on the team. But during a play-off game, he’d been fouled and injured. Laid up with a broken ankle, he’d turned to his computer for comfort. Since then, he lived and breathed technology. His ankle still gave him trouble now and then, but he was in pretty good shape considering he rarely moved from his desk except to go down to the nearby park and shoot a few hoops with the inner-city boys.

Tony didn’t drive a car; he cruised the Internet. Even now, his e-mail was signaling that he had an incoming message. He ignored it, a rare concession to Dana’s paying him a visit, and took another less sleepy look at her. “You’ve been through a fire.”

“Yes,” she said, plopping her elbows on her knees so she could bury her smutty face in her hands. “I’ve been through more than a fire. I’ve been through the worst kind of destruction.”

“I’ll make coffee,” he said, tugging at his faded red sweat-pants. “Then you tell me exactly what’s going on.”

She did, spilling the entire story out between fits of crying and fits of anger. “This woman wants to either scare us or kill us, for some reason. They said I had something they needed. They torched my house. And I know in my heart these people shot Otto. But the worst of it—they said they’d get Stephen.” Glancing over at her sleeping brother, she whispered, “You know how he is. He’s friendly to everybody. He’s too innocent to know that some strangers are dangerous. I had to get him away from there.”

Tony nodded to the same rhythm his fingers drummed on the cracked yellow countertop of the island bar that served as dining table and control station central in his kitchen. “Yeah, I know how he is. That boy’s a handful, for sure. What can I do?”

She pushed back a red-brown wave of hair, the hurt of his jab toward Stephen’s hyperactive nature making her feel small and doubtful about asking for his help. “Just let me stay here a couple of days. I need a place to hide, while I decide what to do. I went to the sheriff, but there’s no help there. He might be in cahoots with Caryn Roark. He thinks I’m just ranting because I’m under so much stress—ha, this is beyond stress.”

“Yeah, I’d say you’ve been through it.” Tony took her empty coffee cup and uneaten cornflakes. “Go take a long shower and let me absorb the scarce data you’ve given me, then we’ll talk some more after you’ve rested.” When she glanced at her brother, he added, “Stevie’s okay. He can clean up when he wakes up.”

Dana nodded, then rose to move down the short hallway to Tony’s bedroom, her entire body sore and bruised, her entire system begging for a meltdown. She turned at the bathroom door. “Thanks, Tony.”

He winked. “Hey, I’ve been trying to get you to Kansas City. I’m sorry about things, but I’m glad to have you here.” His computer beeped and said something and he absently turned back to the blinking lights of his monitor. Somebody badly wanted him to respond to his e-mail.

Dana came out of the bedroom feeling refreshed if not recharged. She wore her only other set of clothes, a pair of Levi’s and a T-shirt with a huge sunflower painted on the front. Now she needed to find something for Stephen to wear when he got up.

Digging through the tote bag she’d brought, she found Stephen’s new Ruby Runner shoes. They were clean and smoke-free at least. But Emma had given Stephen the wrong pair of shoes. This wasn’t the pair Dana had ordered. These shoes were the latest model, more expensive and much more cushioned than the ones she could afford, but they were the right size at least. They were white with a wide red triangle that resembled a real ruby on either side—the symbol of all Ruby Runner shoes. That same design pattern was molded on the thick soles, too. Stephen would love that continuing pattern.

As Dana turned the shoes over in her hands, the little ruby designs seemed to glow from inside. She was too tired to appreciate it, however. “Fancy,” she mumbled, thinking Emma normally didn’t order such expensive shoes. Well, she certainly couldn’t return them now. She’d settle up with Emma later.

Coming out of the bedroom, Dana saw that Stephen was still asleep, and he still smelled of smoke. She’d have to get him cleaned up and into his new shoes. That would perk him up. She was worried about how all of these changes were going to affect her brother. He didn’t take change very well. Kids like Stephen needed routine and structure; in fact, they demanded it.

She looked from her brother to Tony. Still in his T-shirt and sweats, he was engrossed in the many machines that covered one wall of his tiny apartment. Three monitor screens, several powerful system units and a whole lot of multimedia equipment—scanners, fax machines, telephones, modems, printers and cell phones—all sat like dominoes, leaning here and there, arranged in and on each other, just waiting to set things in motion with the touch of a button.

Dana had never understood computers. Her father had bought her one years ago, at Tony’s insistence, and she had used it to keep up with the farm’s business. Other than that, gadgets didn’t impress her much. They did Tony, however. He was almost like an appendage of his many machines. A walking, talking computer, programmed and ready to run as soon as he saw the blinking cursor. He didn’t even know anyone else was in the room.

“Tony?” she called.

His long fingers danced across the keyboard in front of him, his thick glasses reflected the bright green lettering on the screen he was studying so intensely. His hair seemed to be glowing, as if the entire process demanded that the energy flow directly through his fingers into his brain, bypassing his heart and soul. “Tony?”

“What? Huh?” Absently he held up one hand.

How many times had Dana seen him do that? How many times had she left him in his room back in Prairie Heart, with his machines and his programs? They’d start out studying for a test, and he’d invariably wind up at the computer, under the pretense of typing up some study sheet. Before long, Dana would be left with her textbooks and Tony would be lost in the vast world of a tiny one-inch microchip.

A girl couldn’t compete with that kind of power.

“Tony?” she said again. “Is there any way we could pull up my bank account? I don’t know how much cash I can get my hands on.”

Now she had his attention. Next to setting up computer systems, Tony loved nothing better than hacking into one.

“Sure,” he said, his eyes already back on the screen before him. He was in a chat room on the Internet, and apparently the conversation was lively. “Just give me the name of the bank and your account number.”

Dana dug through her purse and handed him her checkbook. She stood over his shoulder, waiting for him to take the information. “Here.”

Tony stopped typing, then pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I got the funniest message on e-mail. Wanna read it?”

This was part of the routine. Tony loved sharing his e-mail.

“Okay.” Dana took the printout he handed her, not really interested, but needing something to focus on. The words on the page brought her head down. With both hands clasping the sheet of paper, she brought it closer to her face, so she could be sure of what she was reading.

“‘What’s more precious than rubies and gold?’”

Somewhere in the tired recesses of her mind, Dana connected on the familiar, but it slipped away in a pool of cold fear. She didn’t like the tone of this message.

“Who sent this?” she asked Tony, her eyes shifting from the words to the back of his head.

“Don’t know,” he admitted. “They didn’t sign it and I couldn’t trace it. Got jammed out on the first try. Whoever it is, they’re good. They don’t want to be found. But it’s pretty obvious they’re using a forged e-mail address. Their IP numbers are way off and they used a single cap in the address for the Received heading—Uareit.” Still keying in information, he added, “Pretty weird name, though, huh? Almost as if they’re saying ‘You are it.’”

Dana sank down in an old overstuffed beige plaid armchair. “Yeah, too scary. I think this message was sent to me, Tony. I think I am it.”

Tony’s head peeled around. “You? How? Who knows you’re here?”

“Only Emma and Frederick,” she said. “And they don’t know a thing about e-mail.”

“That’s for sure.” He went back to his typing. “Hey, maybe you’re just tired. Getting a little paranoid?”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes automatically going to Stephen. “And maybe not. Have you ever heard of the Universal Unity Church?”

Tony frowned, squinted, scratched his head. “Rock band?”

“No.” Dana smiled in spite of herself. “My threatening neighbor is Caryn Roark. She’s the leader of some weird church group—a cult, maybe—and she’s been my neighbor for three years now. They have a big compound over there, behind closed gates and tall stone fences, but I’ve never bothered them and up until this week, they’ve never bothered me, other than constantly making me offers to buy my land.” Shaking her head, she added, “I did sort of threaten her the other day, since I’m sure someone from her compound shot my bull. They claim I have something they need, but I don’t have a clue what that might be. And if that’s true, why would they go to all that trouble—destroying my house—when they could just as easily have confronted me and asked for whatever they think I have.”

“Let’s do a little search,” Tony said, his fingers already doing the walking across his keyed-up keyboard. “See what we can find. If this church lady is as high and mighty as you make her out to be, there should be plenty of information about her online. Especially if she tries to win over recruits to her way of thinking.”

Knowing that would be the only way Tony would be impressed or willing to help, Dana shrugged. “I would like to know more about her. I just don’t trust the woman. But I can’t understand what she wants from me, other than my land. I guess she decided since I was so angry, she’d run me off, even if it meant nearly killing Stevie and me.”

Tony grinned, then rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Well, if this Caryn is on the Net, I’ll find out everything we can. I’ve got sources in places where no source would dare show up.”

“What if they find us first?” Dana asked. “I think they know I’m here.”

“What can they do, but send a few hits on the e-mail?”

“They might send more than messages,” Dana replied in a whisper. “They might come after us.” Her eyes centered on her brother. “They might come after Stevie.”

The day progressed without any more excitement. Much to Tony’s dismay, Stevie ran around in his Ruby Runners, practicing sprinting. Her friend and her brother had always irritated each other.

“Hey, watch the cords, kid. One trip and you’ll unhinge part of my system. My clients wouldn’t like it if I lost part of their records.”

Dana realized they’d already overstayed their welcome. Tony bit his nails and worked—drinking massive amount of black coffee as he tapped into Dana’s sparse bank account and informed her that she had about ninety-eight bucks in her checking account and about five hundred dollars in her savings. Not much.

“If someone’s tracing you, they’ll know the minute you withdraw any money,” he explained. “Better just let me loan you some cash. What are you going to do, anyway?”

Dana didn’t know. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I only know that I’ve got to prove they’re coming after me. If she wants my land, the bank will practically hand it to her now. I borrowed money against the house to buy the two bulls, but now I can’t make the loan payments. Tony, I’m afraid not just for Stephen, but for everyone in Prairie Heart. That woman could take over the whole town.”

Tony scratched a hand through his wiry head. “Relax, doll face. I’ve got my markers out there. We’ll see what we come up with.”

That gave Dana another idea, something that she’d kept in the back of her thoughts. Now instinct told her to pursue it. “Can you pull up information on someone else for me?”

“Give me a name.”

“Bren.” She pulled the card out of her pocket. “He told me not to give anybody this number, but I have to know who he is. He helped us out after the tornado hit.” Quickly she explained meeting the mysterious man and how he’d been so kind to Stephen and her. “He said he had to go to Wichita on business.” She looked down at the card in her hand. “Brendan Donovan. Wichita Industries. That and a phone number are all I have.”

Tony snorted a laugh. “Good one, Dana. Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious,” she said, wondering why he thought this was so funny.

“The Brendan Donovan?” Tony asked, his face turning a blotchy red. “Are you sure?”

“That’s the man’s name,” she replied.

“Okay, if you say so,” Tony said, scratching his head. “But I can’t imagine why the wealthy, worldly Mr. Brendan Donovan, better known as the ‘Geek from Ireland,’ would be out on a county line road in rural Kansas. Maybe it was someone pretending to be him.”

Dana studied her friend, suspicious of that bright knowing light in Tony’s eyes. To her way of thinking, Brendan Donovan was anything but a geek. The man oozed handsome. “What do you know about him?”

“Enough,” Tony replied, already focusing on the task at hand. “Let me pull up a few things and then I’ll explain.”

A few hours later, Tony emerged from his corner with printouts an inch thick. “Very interesting. When you make someone mad, you go for the big guns, huh?”

Dana dropped the magazine she’d been leafing through. “What’d you find?”

Tony settled down in the plaid chair and adjusted his bifocals. “Universal Unity Church—founded by Caryn Roark. Started in Europe, specifically Ireland, has ties with extremists groups, cultlike following, over a thousand sworn members worldwide, very secretive, very powerful. Members have to swear loyalty to the church and give up all worldly goods. Had some run-in with parents who claim she’s brainwashing their teenagers. Moved to rural Kansas about three years ago to start a new arm of church. Still has headquarters in Ireland, but has a growing following in United States. Claims to have channeling powers, uses the occult and spirituality to convey her messages to believers.” He stopped, tipping his head so he could see Dana over his bifocals. “And here’s the part I especially like—owns stock in various companies, including technology and activewear.”