The Greatest of These by Greg Wendleton (have you read this book .txt) 📗

into the opening that passed for a seat and then dashed out and shut the door behind him.

He staggered back around to the front and walked inside the tiny shack. Chad and Jamie, still restrained with zip ties and rope in the two chairs, dropped their jaws when they saw the sight before them. Vomit crusted onto his face, grass stuck to his hair and sweat still beading on his face, he looked like he was on death’s doorstep.

“What are you staring at? Haven’t you ever seen a warrior in pain before?”

Chad almost laughed out loud. If it hadn’t been for their dire situation, he was sure he would have and not cared about the consequences. “Not really. I spent thirty years in the Air Force and never saw a warrior that looked quite like you do now.”

“Well, stop staring and mind your own business.”

Jones staggered over to the kitchen counter and grabbed his tequila bottle. Instead of cracking open the water that he had yet to touch, he drank the tequila. What did he think the benefit of that action would possibly be?

He was going to find out what mixing more tequila to his condition was going to have.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I pulled into the Enterprise Rent-A-Car parking lot just before noon and parked in a space away from the return area. I walked toward the office and saw the young woman from yesterday, quickly walking to greet me.

“Mr. Cooper? Is everything okay with your Terrain?”

“Yes…Christine,” as I quickly read her name tag, “everything is great. I’m meeting an FBI Special Agent here.”

“Oh, Oh my. Did we do something wrong?”

“No, not at all. We are hoping to get some help from your manager.”

As we continued to walk toward the office, Special Agent Presley stepped outside and waved at us. “That’s who I’m meeting. Thank you for your help Christine.” I broke away and fast-walked to meet him and we shook hands.

“I’ve already spoken to the manager and I think he might be helpful in our search. Oh, and the car has been located. It’s been parked in a lot across from Rock and Brews in Paia since Monday night. Let’s go inside and see what the manager has figured out.”

Together, they walked inside and went directly to a closed door beside the counter. Special Agent Presley knocked twice and then opened the door, not waiting for permission to enter. Taking complete control of the situation he barged in and said, “So, what can you do for us?”

The manager, Eugene Hill, according to his desktop nameplate, grinned and said, “We have a bead on the tiny tracking device we attach to the key fob ring.”

I pulled out my key fob and noticed an extra small fob that I hadn’t paid any attention to before. Mr. Hill noticed me looking and added, “We were losing so many key fobs we decided to take a proactive approach instead of just charging $250 for each lost set of key fobs.”

I nodded my head and thought that was a pretty smart thing to do. “So, where is the key fob, Mr. Hill?”

“From this distance we can’t pinpoint the exact location, but it appears to be located somewhere near Hana. As the tracking device gets closer to the software contained inside the tiny fob, the location becomes more precise.”

Special Agent Presley stated, more than asked, “So, you have a portable tracking device that we can take.”

“Um…”

“There is nothing to think about, Mr. Hill, either give us a device or send one of your employees with us to find that damn key fob.”

“Yes sir. I can send Jeff, one of our agents along to help you with the device.”

“Very good Mr. Hill. Let’s get Jeff and we will be out of your way.”

Jeff, a twenty-something, computer specialist who worked behind the scenes, came out of another office and looked like a deer in the headlights. He was introduced to us and instructed to find the key fob to the Nissan Maxima that had been rented to Mr. Chad Wilhite on Saturday, February 20.

The three of us climbed into the Yukon that Special Agent Presley was driving. I was sitting in the front passenger seat with Jeff directly behind me. I looked over at the FBI man and asked, “How long will it take us to drive to Hana?”

“Well, the drive would take us about two or three hours. That’s why we’re going to take a helicopter.”

Jeff and I both said, “What?”

“We will be at the helipad in five minutes and we can touch down in Hana thirty minutes later. Suck it up boys. The drive could make you sick or the ride might. At least it will be over quicker.”

True to his word, we were airborne in less than ten minutes and we landed at an emergency helipad in Hana at 1:10 pm on Wednesday, February 24. Less than five hours ago I had little to nothing to go on and now we were on the verge of finding Chad and Jamie. Or, at least, their key fob.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Another shot of Jose Cuervo and the sweats kicked into high gear and Jones’s stomach started doing the flips. It was time to pay the piper for drinking well over a liter of tequila, eating sliced deli meat, and Poke that wasn’t kept refrigerated. Oh, and two breakfast burritos in just over thirty hours.

If Jones thought his prior attack was rough, what he was about to experience was absolutely brutal. He barely made it out the door before he started convulsing, vomiting and shitting himself uncontrollably. He didn’t look at his watch, but it was 1:09 pm on Wednesday, February 24.

The door was partially open and all Chad and Jamie could see through swollen eyes, was the feet of Jones, writhing in the front clearing. He seemed to be in serious pain and was likely severely dehydrated, suffering from a combination of food and alcohol poisoning. He had brought all three issues