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  A truck pulled up behind Tanner and stopped. A man parked his gray Chevy Trailblazer and stepped out of the vehicle. He was wearing brown leather gloves, a tan overcoat with the collar turned up, a navy blue sports coat and a tie, and a classy brown Dobbs style dress hat with a bow band and a tight brim. He had on sunglasses. His face was friendly, though, and he looked concerned. “Is something wrong?”

  Tanner looked the stranger over. He didn’t recognize him, but he looked friendly enough. “The car just stalled on me, and it won’t start.”

  “Do you have someone to call?”

  “Both my parents will still be at work, but I could call and see if they could help.”

  “Listen, I’ve got a AAA card. I could get a tow truck here in just a few minutes. We can have your car towed to a service station, and I could give you a ride home…that is if you don’t live a hundred miles away.” He said those words with a smile.

  “Lemme call my dad first.” Tanner used his cell phone to call his father, but there was no answer. He left a message to call him back. “Okay, I guess yours is as good a solution as any. Thanks,” Tanner said to the friendly man.

  Within minutes everything was arranged. M-15 Towing would pick up the car and deliver it to Church and Sons Auto Repair on Davison Road in Burton. Tanner called his dad again and left a message that the car would be at the repair shop and that he had a ride home. The driver of the tow truck was instructed to drop the car off at the repair shop and Tanner’s dad would come by to decide what to do with it. Once all the details were taken care of, Tanner hopped into the front seat of the Trailblazer and told the driver to go to Davison Road and take a left.

  The driver pulled out onto the road and within seconds a hard metal object was thrust into the back of Tanner’s neck. “Don’t say a word,” came a voice from the backseat. A gun barrel was poking into his neck from under the raised front seat headrest. “If I shoot you in the back of the neck, you’ll probably die, but if you happen to live, you’ll probably never walk again.”

  “What’s going on?” Tanner managed to squeeze out of his throat.

  “Just what you think. Kidnapping. Keep your eyes looking forward, Kid.” From behind Tanner’s seat, he got on his phone, punched in a number, and said, “We got ’im.” At that exact moment, Tanner sent an outgoing call to 9-1-1 from his own phone, hoping to somehow communicate his need for help. He wondered if there was a way to trace his location through his cell phone. The kidnapper immediately ended his call, however, and said, “Put this blindfold on…and don’t make any stupid moves.”

  Tanner nervously ended his call and turned his phone quickly to silent mode, expecting a return call from 9-1-1. He then wrapped the blindfold over his eyes and, with somewhat shaky hands, tied it. He asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  “I hear it’s payback, Kid. Somethin’ ’bout payback more’n 20 years overdue.”

  “I’m only 17 years old. What do you mean more than ‘20 years overdue’?”

  “I guess you’re not the one bein’ paid back then, Genius. Now shut up and do as you’re told.”

  The driver and Tanner never said another word. Blindfolded, Tanner couldn’t see a thing, but he could feel his heart beating, and the gun never quite stopped feeling cold against his neck. The kidnapper with the gun was the only one to speak while Tanner silently rode out the short drive to their destination, worrying about what was going to happen next.

  CHAPTER 18

  Jack Harding had planned his kidnapping to perfection. He figured that he’d done as much as 2,000 dollars damage to the Thomas car—that evened things up a bit. He’d hold Tanner throughout the game, assuring that he’d win 4,000 dollars on his bet. Then he’d request a ransom from Clay Thomas for maybe ten grand more. He really didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he wanted to put the family, Clay in particular, through some mental anguish, anguish like Jack had experienced in high school. The kidnappers were hired from out of town, so no one should recognize them, and the plates on the truck were stolen from a nearly identical Chevy Trailblazer, just in case a cop rolled up during the roadside emergency. The kidnappers were to take Tanner to a foreclosed rental property that Jack had once owned, but currently was owned by First Financial Credit Union. The abandoned house, which had been sitting empty for at least four years, was nowhere near Harding Metals, and Jack still had working keys. They would arrange towing services through a stolen AAA card. Jack felt confident that there was no way he could be incriminated if something went wrong. The kidnappers didn’t even know his name, just a number to call to verify their “pick-up.” He had an ironclad alibi as well. He made sure a whole bar full of people noticed him when he bought a round of drinks for everyone on hand. The only thing left was to head to the game, watch his son take over now that Tanner Thomas wouldn’t be playing, and gloat over his winnings when the game ended.

  ***

  Pete Piggott was in a great mood as he followed Jessie Thomas from work to home at 5:15 Friday evening. She didn’t make any stops and Pete pulled away and headed back to the gym. He’d grab a couple of McDonald’s burgers and be at the gym easily before the JV game began. He hadn’t had to talk to or see Jack Harding all week; Jack had left Pete alone completely. Pete would have to head back to work after the game, but he was looking forward to the fact that he would be able to coach the game without feeling Jack Harding’s interference. They would be playing Clio, which should be an easy win. Nothing had happened all week with Jessie Thomas, but he looked forward to every visual encounter with her; she was one hot woman.

  ***

  Jessie pulled into the driveway, a little surprised to not see Tanner’s car. He took his games very seriously, and it wasn’t like him to not be at home going through his regular pre-game routine. She thought about calling John, but thought twice about it. She didn’t want it to look like she was chasing him; he was supposed to be chasing her. It was a good thing she didn’t call because Clay barged in unexpectedly just then.

  “Hi, Jessie. I’m in a hurry because I’ve got to go check out Tanner’s car before we leave for the game.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Tanner had some car trouble. His car was towed to Church and Sons Auto Repair. Tanner!” he called. “Tanner, I need to talk to you!”

  Tanner didn’t answer. “I wondered where his car was,” Jessie said. “Tanner!” She headed for his room, but his room was empty, and within minutes it was obvious he wasn’t in the house at all.

  “Where could he be?” Clay wondered aloud. He called Tanner’s cell phone, but there was no answer. He called TJ, but she didn’t know where he was. He called Mike Powell and then Luke Simms, but no one knew anything. Luke said he’d left school at about 3:30; that was the last time he saw him.

  Clay left Jessie at the house in case there was a call, and he headed the short distance to the auto repair shop. They claimed that they hadn’t seen Tanner. The car was simply dropped off by M-15 Towing. Clay raced to the service station. The tow truck driver was there and explained that Tanner had left with a man that he assumed was Tanner’s father. He drove a gray Chevy Trailblazer, newer model, ’06…’07, maybe. The guy was dressed in a tan overcoat, sports coat, white shirt, tie, hat…. “Company AAA card, I recall. Signed it…let’s see…” He pulled a clipboard from a counter top. “It’s signed ‘Clive Cussler’.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “What?”

  “Clive Cussler’s an author. He just made that name up. Tanner’s in trouble.”

  “I don’t know. He seemed like a real nice guy.”

  “But my son still isn’t home, and I got a call from him at about quarter to four. It’s almost six o’clock now, and he has a basketball game tonight that he wouldn’t be missing on purpose.”

  Clay left and punched in his home phone number. “Is he there?”

  “No, and he hasn’t called,” Jessie answered. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but I think we need to call the poli
ce. I think he’s been kidnapped.”

  ***

  Clay dialed 9-1-1 and headed home. A police officer pulled into his driveway as Clay was getting out of his car. By 6:30, a full report was written up. The detective, Lance Hutchinson was his name, was starting to explain the policy about a person being missing for at least 24 hours when Clay very calmly and very clearly looked him in the eyes and thought, “You are going to ignore your policies. This is a kidnapping, and it is urgent!”

  “However,” the detective explained, “in this case we will ignore the policy. This definitely appears to be a kidnapping and deserves our urgent attention.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” said Clay honestly.

  “Here’s my card. I’ll be working this case. If there’s any news, call me. Oh, and call me Hutch.”

  Jessie was nearly frantic as the police car pulled away. Clay put his arms around her and tried to assure her that everything would be okay.

  ***

  The kidnappers, fortunately for Tanner, weren’t mistreating him. They pulled into a garage, lowered the garage door, led him into a house, and sat him in a metal chair. Tanner’s ankles were not tied, but his wrists were secured behind his back. The kidnappers weren’t rough as they also tied him to the chair. With his hands behind him, however, Tanner couldn’t get his blindfold off, and if he couldn’t get his blindfold off, there would be no way to use his powers of mind control, not if he couldn’t look into their eyes. In the car, he had settled himself a bit, thinking he could manipulate the men, but when they left the blindfold on, he started getting nervous again.

  The two kidnappers pulled out a deck of cards and sat patiently awaiting any new orders. “Just sit tight, Kid. Don’t try anything, and you won’t get hurt. Our orders were to hold you for the evening. We’re to be paid tonight when our replacements come, and then we’ll be on our way. Let us know if you need a drink or need to use the facilities.” The talkative kidnapper laughed when he used the word facilities.

  They were playing gin—five dollars a hand. When the quieter kidnapper, the driver, won the first hand, there was discussion about what the bid would be for the next hand. The quieter one wanted the bet to be five dollars again, but the talkative one with the gun wanted to go double or nothing. They argued briefly before the driver gave in. Since both bets were the same, Tanner realized they weren’t the smartest men in the world, and he began to have hope of escaping them…if only he could get his blindfold off.

  After that hand, they played two more, double or nothing, the more talkative kidnapper yapping continuously, and the quieter one winning every game. He was now up 40 dollars. Tanner asked, “Could you tell me what time it is?”

  “Time for you to shut up,” the gunman replied, obviously irritated about his losses.

  “6:45,” the other man said. “Ignore him; he’s just a bad loser.”

  Tanner was getting anxious. Game time was generally around 7:30. He’d barely have enough time to get out of the house, get home to get his things, and get back to the gym in time for the game, even if they let him go right then. As he puts those thoughts together, he actually got mad. The men were arguing again about their bet for the next game when Tanner focused in on the direction of their voices and with great concentration thought, “You need to let me go.”

  “We should let the kid go,” the driver said.

  “Yeah, we really should. If we could, I’d do it,” the kidnapper with the gun replied.

  What? Did he just get into their heads? He decided to try again. “Get out of that chair right now, and untie me.”

  “Why don’t we just untie the kid; he ain’t goin’ nowhere,” the driver suggested.

  “I don’t have a problem with that.” So one of the men began to untie him.

  “I need you to give me the truck keys. Just put them in my hand.”

  As soon as his wrists were freed and he was released from the chair, an ignition key and remote were placed in his right hand. It occurred to him that he’d never seen the man with the gun, and the other man was practically disguised behind the hat, glasses, and coat collar. He’d never be able to identify either of them, and they would know it. Tanner was scared but so angry about possibly missing his game that he was focused and actually thinking quite clearly.

  “Now, lead me to the garage. I won’t take off the blindfold until I’m in the truck, so I’ll never be able to identify you.”

  “Keep the blindfold on the kid ’til you let him go,” the kidnapper with the gun said. “Don’t take it off ’til you get in the truck, Kid. You’ll never be able to identify either of us, and we’ll be long gone before anyone looks in this dump.”

  “Lead me to the truck door. Open the garage, step back in the house, and let me go.”

  “Sorry for the trouble, Kid,” the driver apologized. “Once you get in the truck, we’ll open the garage door and step back in the house. Then you can go.” Then almost as a second thought, he said, “You sure don’t talk much, Kid.”

  “I do have a request before I go. Tell me your phone number,” Tanner commanded.

  Amazingly, the gunman looked at his disposable cell and replied, “313-818-4444.”

  “Thank you,” Tanner said, and then he felt his way into the vehicle.

  Once Tanner was in the truck, the electric garage door opener pulled the door up. He heard the kidnappers close the door to the house, so he pulled off his blindfold, backed out of the garage, and drove away.

  “I can’t believe you just gave him the phone number,” the driver said.

  “Heck, it’s a prepaid phone. We wipe it down and dispose of it. No way to trace it to us. What the heck just happened?” the gunman asked incredulously.

  “Looks to me like we just screwed up a kidnapping.”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’. I’m also thinkin’ we need to clean up the house and get our butts outta here,” the gunman said.

  ***

  Once on the road, Tanner immediately pulled out his cell phone. It was ten minutes to seven. He called home.

  “Tanner! Are you all right?” Tanner could tell his dad was worried.

  “Yes. I was kidnapped, Dad, but I’m okay. I just want to get to my game on time. Dad, I’m not sure where I am right now. It’s some road called Western, but I know I’m not far from where the car broke down…Wait, here’s Richfield Rd. I’ll be home soon; I have their truck, and I’m hurrying. Would you get my basketball gear ready?”

  “You want to play?”

  “Dad, I’m all right. I wasn’t hurt at all…a little scared, maybe, but I’m okay, and I want to play.”

  “Tanner! Are you okay, Honey?” Jessie had grabbed another phone. She was crying.

  “Mom, I’m okay. I’ll be home in just a few minutes.”

  When Tanner pulled into the driveway, his parents ran out to meet him. Jessie was bawling, and Clay couldn’t stop his own tears from running. There were hugs and kisses. It was nice to be home, but Tanner wanted to get to the school. He could forget the whole ordeal once the game began. Jessie was overreacting and Clay was fumbling along, trying to get the family together and into the car. Tanner’s bag was ready.

  Jessie wailed, “Oh, I forgot my purse…you two wait just a minute!”

  ***

  Once in the car, Tanner tried to explain about the breakdown and the ride he’d accepted. Jessie tried to scold him, and then thought better of it. Tanner explained that the kidnappers had been hired to hold him through the evening, but all of a sudden they just decided to let him go. Jessie was so relieved that she started crying all over again. She was sitting in the back seat with Tanner, holding his hand.

  Clay had questions that he couldn’t ask while Jessie was in the car. Instead, he focused on Tanner’s eyes through the rear view mirror, and he heard, “My powers worked even though I was blindfolded.” Clay quickly looked at Jessie to see if she had heard what he had heard, but she obviously hadn’t. She didn’t ask any questions about “powers”
and “blindfolds.” That meant, Clay realized, that he had pulled that thought from Tanner’s mind. He had read Tanner’s mind, and Tanner had demonstrated mind-control without eye contact! What was going on? Why would their powers somehow be increasing?

  Tanner grabbed his bag with warm-ups, uniform, shoes, ankle braces, etc. and ran into the school once the car arrived. It was 7:20. He charged into the locker room and the team was still sitting, waiting for the JV game to end. Fortunately, the game was lasting longer than usual.

  Coach Piggott walked up to Clay and nearly shouted, “Where in the heck have you been?”

  “I was kidnapped, Coach. I escaped, and I got here as fast as I could.”

  Several teammates started laughing, but they could see that Tanner was deadly serious, and the laughing stopped abruptly.

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  Tanner looked him in the eyes and thought, “You believe me. I was kidnapped.”

  “Oh, heck, I actually believe you were kidnapped, Thomas. This has been one heck of a year so far. Get your stuff on. We hit the floor in a couple a minutes.” Pete Piggott, who had thought this one game was going to run smoothly, once again realized this was going to be a year of continuous trials. When Tanner Thomas didn’t show up, he just chalked it up to another bad break—more bad news. But several players, Luke Simms and Mike Powell in particular, had told him that Tanner was missing. To find out that he was kidnapped was par for the course this year. At least he was here now. It was going to be nice being able to play him just the way he wanted.

  CHAPTER 19