Free The Senator's Choice by Noel Nash Page B

wrists.
    “He looks like he ’ s in good shape, but he ’ s rubbing his wrists.”
    Matthews nodded. “So these monsters tied him up and threw him in the trunk.”
    “That ’ s what it looks like,” Hammond added.
    “ Well, let ’ s get going,” Matthew said. Then to the clerk, “Can we get a copy of this?”
    “Sure. Whatever you need,” stammered the clerk.
    “ Load up, ” Matthew said. “I ’ ll wait for the video.”
    Matthews watched the men exit the room as the clerk took the thumb drive from Matthews ’ hand and jammed it into the surveillance system.
    “You do this often?” the clerk asked.
    “What? Retrieve kidnapped people?”
    The clerk nodded.
    “Not all the time, but it goes with the territory.”
    “The territory of what?”
    “The territory of protecting people. This young man is like a son to me and I ’ ll be damned if I ’ m going to let these monsters get away with him.”
    The clerk pulled the thumb drive out of the computer and handed it to Matthews. “ Good luck. ”
    Matthews nodded and headed out the door toward their vehicles. He looked at his watch and rubbed his forehead.
    They didn ’ t have much time.

CHAPTER 14
    LUKE DANIELS CRINGED WHEN HE heard an all-too familiar sound penetrating and rattling the windowpanes in his room. And he feared what it might mean. He never associated the pulsating beat of a helicopter with anything but panic. The “whirlybirds”, as his father called them, transported government people, important people. Just the thought of climbing onto one caused his stomach to gurgle and bile to surge up his throat. It ’ s how his father picked him up one day from school several years ago when a credible threat came into his office that someone was going to kidnap his son. Now, his father ’ s greatest fear had come true — and Luke was undoubtedly about to be forced to get into the contraption and go somewhere. Somewhere the kidnappers probably believed to be untraceable.
    You don ’ t know my uncle.
    Luke smiled and scoured the room for a writing utensil. Faded images of Raggedy Ann and Andy decorated the wall. A plush bear sat slumped against the far wall, his stuffing oozing out through his eyes. In the center of the room was a table, one Luke imagined a little girl used for hosting imaginary tea parties with Bear and other dolls and stuffed friends. But he couldn ’ t write on any of them, even if he had something to write with.
    Luke peered under the bed and beneath an empty bookcase in the corner. He didn ’ t care if he had to scratch something into a sheet of paper — if he could even find one of those.
    Jackpot.
    In the corner of the room beneath the rickety bed, Luke found the nub of a golf pencil and a book. He cringed as he ripped a page out of the book, even if it was only the title page. Then he started writing.
    His pace quickened as he heard footfalls on the steps leading up to his room — even above the twisting blades of the helicopter now safely on the ground less than a hundred yards away from the house.
    With each thud on the steps, Luke worked more feverishly until he heard two feet stop on the landing and a small shadow darkened the slit inches off the ground beneath his door. Behind his back, he folded up the paper and jammed it under one of the back legs on the small table in the center of the room.
    The door swung open slowly and Dave stood there, frozen. “Let ’ s go, kid.”
    Luke watched the man ’ s eyes as he glanced around the room.
    What is he looking for?
    Without hesitating, Luke jumped up and ran for the bear, snatching the stuffed animal by the arm as cotton spilled out onto the floor.
    “ You can ’ t take that, kid,” Dave said sternly. “Leave it.”
    Luke knelt down as if he were putting down Bear softly. Dave watched him bend down and didn ’ t move. That was the opening Luke needed.
    He thrust upward before lunging toward the door and diving past Dave ’ s outstretched arms. Luke rolled