Part 4

Trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys, the three captives in the nursery couldn’t even grind their teeth in frustration because of the wads of toilet tissue stuffed into their mouths as gags.  Mart set himself to thinking of a plan for somehow freeing themselves.  With his ear to the floor, he felt the vibrations of the quiet, if heavy, tread becoming fainter and fainter.  Presumably, Williams had gone back downstairs.  Despite his own fear, Mart felt a burning curiosity about the man’s reason for entering the Lynch home when so many people were present.  It didn’t make sense.

Unless, of course, he was after one of the Bob-Whites.

And it’s all for one, and one for all, Mart reminded himself.  We’ve got to get free, so we can help the others.  He glanced at his companions.  Brian had scooted himself close to a floor register and was methodically rubbing his wrist ties across the metal louvers, but Mart knew there was no way the louvers could cut through the sturdy plastic in time.  Diana, suddenly freed from her trance, was inching along like a caterpillar on her back, making her way to the bathroom on the boys’ side of the playroom.  Her lips were folded together in determination.  Even in the darkness, Mart could see her dark brows drawn together in the way that meant she was trying hard to figure out a problem.  He wondered, with a flicker of hope, what she was up to.

For his own part, Mart tried to think of a more effective cutting tool than the floor register.  If I could just get my hands out in front of me, he thought.  But his arms were either too short, or they were twisted so that he couldn’t slide himself through them.  There is absolutely nothing sharp in this room, he decided, and began to work the ties back and forth, trying to wear down the teeth so that they would be able to loosen up.

Mart was concentrating so hard on loosening the ties that he didn’t even see Diana work herself into a kneeling position and pull the vanity drawer open with her lips.  Unable to see into the drawer, she backed up to the toilet and used her elbows to leverage her weight until she was standing, although with uncertain balance.  Once, twice, three times, she reached backward into the drawer, finally fitting her fingers into the rings of a pair of nail scissors.  Her mission accomplished, she dropped awkwardly to her knees again and began to inch her way back to Mart.

As her awkward movements captured his attention, Mart’s eyes were glued to Diana, and a bubble of excitement rose in his chest as he saw the glint of a pair of scissors in her hand.  After several attempts at cutting his bonds, she was able to transfer the scissors to him.  Mart, in turn, struggled to use the scissors on her ties.  It was just impossible to get the right position, he decided in frustration, dropping the scissors for the third time.

By this time, Brian had noticed that his brother and Di were in possession of a tool, and he scooted himself over to them.  Diana managed to transfer the instrument to him, and Brian, who had practiced suturing over the summer, finally gained enough of a grip and the right cutting angle to sever her ties.

The second Di’s hands were freed, she used a finger to hook the sodden toilet tissue gag, retching a little as she tossed the mess toward the bathroom.  Then she took the scissors from Brian and cut the ties binding his and Mart’s hands.  They rid themselves of their gags and freed their feet as well as hers.

“Great work, Di!”  Mart was careful to whisper, but he made sure to let his normally timid girlfriend know how proud he was.

“Now we need to get back downstairs and find Trixie, Honey, and Jim,” Brian said.  “Dan should have been back by now, too.  They’re all in danger.”

“We need to do that without giving our unfriendly visitor a clue that we’re free again,” Mart reminded him.  “How can we do that, Di?  Or can we do it at all?”

Diana’s head was bowed in thought, and her black hair fell across her face like a curtain.  Finally she looked back up at the brothers.  “I know a way.  Come with me.”

The boys followed Diana to the far end of the nursery wing’s playroom.  A locked door in the center of the end wall stopped them.

“This door leads to a private staircase that was intended for the staff’s use, coming and going,” Diana explained in a whisper.  “Larry and Terry were using it to sneak outside at night, so Daddy walled off a space close to the landing and added a door with a deadbolt lock.  The staff have keys, but now the boys can’t get out this way.”

“How is this helping us?” Mart whispered back.  “We don’t have a key.”

“Brian, reach up to the top of the doorframe,” Diana murmured.  “The boys don’t know it but Daddy put an extra key up there, in case of emergency.”  Her face wore the ghost of a smile.  “This is an emergency if there ever was one.”

Brian’s fingers brushed against the key, and in a moment the trio had unlocked the door and were creeping silently down a flight of stairs.  “The stairway leads to a short hallway behind the kitchen,” Diana explained softly.  “So we’ll have to be careful to scope out the kitchen, in case Mr. President is in there.”  

Jim winced as he caught the lingering scent of tobacco smoke in the air. His tongue prickled and, for a brief moment, he could actually taste the smell. The smell that had haunted him through long years of torture before he came to Sleepyside. The smell that had seemed to linger in his clothes for long days after he finally ran away. The urge to purge his body of the stench was strong. Instead, Jim straightened and turned steely green eyes towards his friend.

“Jonesy is behind this. And we're ending this tonight.”

Dan's dark eyes were troubled as he stared at the tobacco tin. “Jonesy isn't the only jerk who smokes.”

Jim stared at him incredulously. “Dan. How many people do you know who smoke this crap, and who would want revenge on one of us? How many people who would call one of us his son?”

“I can think of at least one more,” Dan replied quietly.

Jim stilled, fighting to suppress the panic that he felt at the thought of Jonesy in the house, taking revenge on his friends. He frowned, unable to account for Dan's words.

“You know I was in a gang,” Dan said, his voice tightly controlled. “What you don’t know is how I got into the gang. Or, rather, who got me into the gang.” His mouth tightened. “My...step-father...was not a nice man.”

Jim blinked. “You...your step-father...”

Dan nodded, eyes firmly fixed on the tobacco tin. “Yeah.”

“He smoked that stuff, too?” Jim asked.

Dan nodded. “And he had a thing about people leaving the gang. It’s a betrayal.  He didn't like being betrayed.”

“I still think it's Jonesy,” Jim finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Doesn't much matter who it is,” Dan shrugged. “The only thing that matters is stopping him.”

“I quite agree.” Both young men jumped at the sound of a third voice. “It's high time that we put a stop to this nonsense.”

“Harrison!” Jim exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

The elderly butler shook his head dismissively. “I've taken worse knocks.” He rolled up the sleeves of his rumpled white shirt. “Now, what we need is a plan,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “We'll need to separate in order to find the other Bob-Whites.”

Dan nodded. “Okay. I'll...” He stopped as he realized that he had no idea where to start looking. The only rooms of the Lynch Estate he was familiar with were on the main level, and it was clear that neither their friends nor the man stalking them were in any of those rooms. He knew that there were bedrooms upstairs, but he'd never actually seen them.

“Perhaps I should check the upstairs,” Harrison offered. “And you young men could explore the basement.”

Jim frowned. “I don't like the idea of you going upstairs by yourself, Harrison. What if--”

“I'm familiar with the lay out of the rooms,” the elderly butler interjected. “I assure you that I can move quickly and quietly. Whoever is up there won't know that I'm there unless I want them to.” He smiled, white teeth flashing in the darkened room. “If there's one thing I've learned, it's how to be invisible.”

Jim nodded reluctantly, following Harrison and Dan as the butler led them to the staircase that would take them to the basement. “Good luck,” Harrison whispered before slipping away noiselessly.

Dan led the way down the staircase, trying to move as silently as the butler had. Instead, he heard every creak, every groan under his feet. The knowledge that something deadly was terrorizing his friends was like a heavy weight around his neck and in the pit of his stomach. And it was as if the fear of who it could be made him heavier, clumsier.

Without a word, the two young men explored the darkened basement. Frequent flashes of lightning illuminated enough of the unfinished space that they could see the locations of the hot water tank and furnace. It didn't take long for them to determine that they were alone.

Jim grunted in frustration. “What I wouldn't give to have my phone back,” he muttered. “For all we know, the others have managed to escape, and are waiting for us back at the Manor House. Or Harrison could have located everyone. Or--”

“Stop it,” Dan ordered, a trifle more harshly than he had intended. “Your phone's gone. So is Harrison's. So is everyone else's, probably. We'll have to make do.”

He stared at the room, not seeing anything. “I think we should go upstairs and see how Harrison is making out.”

Jim nodded and started back toward the staircase. “If Harrison hasn't found anyone, then we know that we'll have to look outside the house. And, if he has found someone...”

“He might need help,” Dan finished grimly.

Jim nodded.

Harrison crept up the steps, ignoring the throbbing of his head. Years of practice in moving unobtrusively stood him in good stead. He glided down the main hallway, feeling more like a wraith than a flesh-and-blood man. He paused outside the first door, listening intently for sounds coming from the guest bedroom.

Nothing.

The door swung silently open when he gave it a gentle nudge, and he thanked his lucky stars that he had recently seen to the oiling of the hinges. Though the room had the unmistakable aura of having been in disuse for a very long time, he took the time to check in the closet and under the bed.

Empty.

Harrison listened intently before returning the hallway, but the only break in the silence was the heavy roll of thunder. He slipped into the next bedroom, and then another. Both were silent; both were empty. Where was everyone?

Trixie grabbed Honey's hand in a knee-jerk reaction as they tried to sneak through the darkened house. “Shhh,” she hissed, pulling her against the wall. They waited, listening intently for any sounds.

“Did you hear something?” Honey finally whispered.

Trixie gnawed her bottom lip. “I don't know. It was probably just thunder...” She squinted into the darkness, but couldn't see anything unusual. “We have to find the others,” she said, her voice serious. “They might need...help.”

Honey paled, realizing that Trixie meant that their friends might need medical help.

“And we have to find that man,” Trixie continued, her voice laced with determination. Her blue eyes clouded. “Did you smell that cigarette smoke?” she asked.

Trixie waited while Honey struggled to make the connection.

“Jonesy!” she breathed.

Trixie nodded soberly. “I hope it's not, but...”

Honey's hands started to shake. “Oh, Trixie, this isn't good. Poor Jim...”

Trixie swallowed hard and squeezed Honey's hand. “I'm sure he's fine,” she said, but her voice lacked confidence. “He has to be,” she finished.

“We should try the kitchen,” Honey reminded her.

Both girls paused. Diana had disappeared after venturing to the kitchen...

“We'll be careful,” Trixie said in an attempt to reassure her best friend. “It'll be fine.”

Honey's face was pinched with worry, but she nodded. The two girls crept down the hall as silently as they could, and made their way slowly to the kitchen. Because they stopped every few feet to listen, it seemed to take hours to reach the state-of-the-art room.

“It looks empty,” Honey whispered from the doorway.

Trixie pointed at the obvious mess. “Harrison would never leave the kitchen looking like this. Unless it was an emergency.”

“Or unless...” Honey couldn't finish the statement.

“We have to check and make sure there's no one in here,” Trixie said, summoning her courage. Together, the two girls scoured every inch of the kitchen and butler's pantry, waiting for flashes of lightning to provide illumination. They found signs of a struggle, but nothing else. When they were finished, Trixie shrugged.

“I guess we should try upstairs,” she said.

They ascended the staircase, pausing often to listen, but neither girl heard anything. When they reached the top of the landing, however, Trixie stopped suddenly. “Did you see that?” she hissed, her eyes wide.

Honey peered into the darkness. “No. What?” she whispered back, tendrils of dread curling in her stomach.

“I saw something in the shadows.” Trixie pointed to the far end of the hallway.

Honey frowned. “How could you see anything? It's pitch-black up here.”

Trixie shrugged. “Something was there, and then it wasn't.” She grabbed her friend's hand and hustled her down the hall.

“Wait,” Honey begged, stopping short. “What if it's...?”

Trixie's expression hardened. “If it's Jonesy we'll find a way to make him stop,” she said. “He's not going to get away with this.” With those words she took off toward the spot she thought she had seen something, and Honey was forced to follow.

When they reached the end of the hall, though, they found nothing. Trixie sighed in frustration. “We need to check all the rooms,” she decided.

Honey nodded. They searched the master bedroom, Diana's suite, and two guest rooms before approaching the nursery. As soon as they opened the door, they both smelled it.

“He was here.” Trixie's eyes snapped with anger. “He was in the nursery.”

Honey nodded, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the cloying stench of cigarette smoke. “It’s vile,” she said. “I can't imagine why anyone would want to smell like that all the time.”

Trixie nodded absently. “Yeah. It's disgusting, all right.”

A flash of lightning drew their attention to the window. They stared into the dark night, watching the trees bend in the breeze.

“Isn't that the Bob-White station wagon?” Honey asked, pointing to a vehicle parked on the driveway, a fair distance from the house.

Trixie nodded, squinting into the darkness. “Why would they leave the car there after they changed the tire?” she wondered. “Honey, look! Isn't that a tree on the driveway?”

Honey covered her mouth. “Oh, Trixie! You don't think Dan's hurt, do you?”

Trixie worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “It doesn't look as if the tree struck the wagon,” she said.

“Then where's Dan?” Honey wondered.

Trixie's blue eyes clouded with worry. “I don't know, Honey. I don't know.”

The girls moved further into the room. When the reached the attached bathroom, both girls sucked in their breath. A pile of zip ties and a pair of nail scissors were in a messy pile on the counter.

Honey bit her lip. “This isn't good.”

Trixie studied the pile thoughtfully. “Yes, it is. Whoever was tied up, isn't anymore.”

“Unless someone managed to tie up Jonesy. Or whoever is doing this,” Honey pointed out.

Trixie shook her head. “If any of the Bob-Whites had captured Jonesy, they wouldn't have used zip ties. A belt, maybe. Or a necktie. Whoever used the zip ties brought them with him.”

Honey's reply was cut short by the sound of a door further down the hallway closing. “Quick! Hide!”

They huddled against the wall of the nursery, beside the doorway. Honey had wanted to hide behind the door, but Trixie pointed out that, this way, they would be able to see whoever came into the room, or walked past. Behind the door, they wouldn't be able to see anyone who continued down the hallway.

Both girls sucked in breaths when they saw the stoop-shouldered man glide past the door. Trixie was about to follow him when Honey grabbed her arm and shook her head frantically. Trixie's frown of irritation disappeared when she saw what Honey was trying to point out to her.

A flash of lightning lit the hall and clearly showed the ugly revolver in the man's hand.

The two girls shrank back against the wall and waited, hoping that they wouldn't be noticed.

“We need help,” Honey whispered when they were certain that the man was out of hearing. “I'll call the police...” Her voice trailed off as she remembered that neither of them had a cell phone, and that the land lines were down. She closed her eyes. “What are we going to do, Trix?”

Trixie shook her head. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

Both girls listened intently. They could hear furtive footsteps, coming from the opposite direction that the stoop-shouldered man had gone.

“What if he has an accomplice?” Honey whispered.

They shrank further into the dark room, hoping to remain unnoticed.

“I'm telling you, I heard something,” Jim insisted.

The two young men stopped at the top of the staircase. “I heard it, too,” Dan agreed, his voice low. They both strained to listen more closely, noting the sound of light footsteps.

“Not Jonesy,” Jim muttered, still listening intently. “He was like smoke. You could never hear him until he was on top of you.”

Dan nodded. “Makes it easier to terrorize someone.” He winced at his own words, picturing what could be happening to his friends, the people he considered to be his family.

They began moving quietly down the hallway, pausing often to listen, but hearing no other sounds. Jim halted when they reached an open door. “I'm sure this is where the sound came from,” he mouthed.

They entered the room slowly, taking in the scattered toys and low beds. When they were halfway into the room, they heard muffled exclamations and saw two forms pull away from the wall.

“Trixie! Honey!” Jim and Dan recognized the girls immediately.

“Are you okay?” Jim demanded, green eyes blazing. “Did he hurt you?”

The girls shook their heads emphatically. “We're fine,” Trixie assured him, while Honey threw her arms around her brother.

“Where are the others?” Dan demanded. “Are they with you? Are they okay?”

Honey's face fell. “We can't find them,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “But we did find something...” Honey brightened as she remembered the zip ties and nail scissors they had discovered in the bathroom.

“We think they were tied up, but managed to get free,” Trixie said, showing them what they had discovered.

Jim nodded. “He used zip ties to bind me, too.”

Trixie's eyes burned as she thought about Jim being cuffed. “Jim...”

“I'm fine,” he said, shooting her a crooked grin. “Or, I will be once we find the others and take care of our stalker.”

“I think it's Jonesy,” Trixie blurted. “I'm sorry Jim.”

Jim ground his teeth. “Did you see him?”

“Yes. Kind of. I think.”

Dan and Jim both raised their eyebrows.

“We saw someone,” Honey explained. “It was too dark to really tell for certain, but...”

“But we smelled the cigarette smoke,” Trixie finished. She searched Jim's face for a reaction, but could see very little in the dark.

Jim nodded grimly. “I knew it was him.” He exchanged a glance with Dan.

“It's not necessarily him,” Dan reminded him. “We shouldn't jump to conclusions.”

Trixie frowned. “What are you talking about, Dan?”

Dan took a deep breath before explaining, “My...step-father smoked the same cigarettes,” he said, tripping over the word step-father, his loathing evident. “It's possible he came here for me.  To get me to return to the Cowhands.”

Trixie sucked in a breath. “No!”

“Do you have any idea where the others are?” Jim interrupted.

Honey shook her head sadly. “We were looking for everyone up here. So far, you're the only ones we've found.”

“Then we'd better keep looking,” Dan said.

Harrison patted his pocket, searching for the keys he always kept on his person. When he couldn't immediately locate it, he ran a hand along the upper edge of the doorframe. Missing. He hesitated. Out of the people in the house, only Diana knew about the existence of the key. Did that mean that Diana had attempted the back staircase? Or had the stalker somehow managed to find it?

Ultimately, it didn't matter. Harrison was determined to find his young charges and the stalker. He settled his hand on the doorknob and was surprised when it swung open, revealing the back stair case leading to the kitchen. Diana had failed to lock the door behind her.

He crept silently, running his hand along the polished banister. Sound echoed in the enclosed space, and sometimes it sounded as if other footsteps echoed, as well. Was there someone below him on the stairs? He slowed his pace, unable to see anything in the intense dark of the windowless stairwell.

Counting the stairs, he came to a stop four steps from the bottom. He was almost certain that someone else was close by.

“Stop,” a firm voice demanded.

Harrison's grip on the banister tightened. “Brian?” he asked.

Four people blew out sighs of relief.

“Harrison? Is that you? Are you okay?” Diana demanded.

“I'm fine,” he assured them. “But what about you?”

“Nothing that won't heal,” Mart said grimly, thinking of his sore throat, and the cuts on his wrists. “But we don't know anything about the others.”

“Jim and Dan are fine,” Harrison assured them. “The last I saw them, they were checking the basement.” He frowned, realizing that the young men had had plenty of time to search the open area. “Do we know where Trixie and Honey are?”

Diana's voice trembled. “I left them in the den, but they aren't there anymore.”

“I'm sure they're fine,” Mart said, drawing her close. “You know Trixie and Honey.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “I do. I know that they always get themselves kidnapped.” Diana bit her tongue, ashamed of herself for giving into fear. A lone tear tracked down her face as she turned to Trixie's brothers. “I'm sorry.”

Brian patted her shoulder awkwardly in the dark, enclosed space. “Everything is going to be fine, Di. We'll find them.”

“Yes, we will,” Harrison said, his voice firm. “Jim and Dan are looking for them, too.”

“Then we should join forces,” Brian said. “Where are Jim and Dan now?”

Harrison looked at the door of the staircase that led to the kitchen. “They should be finished searching the basement. Perhaps we can catch them on their way up.”

They eyed the door. “I never thought I'd say this,” Mart muttered, “but I really don't want to go in that kitchen.”

Harrison reached for the doorknob. The door swung open silently. All four gazed into the dark and deserted kitchen. Harrison winced at the wreckage, and then approached the butler's pantry. Empty.

“The basement?” Brian asked.

The four again followed Harrison, and quickly determined that the basement was also empty.

“Dan and Jim must have gone upstairs,” Mart said.

Harrison nodded. “We'll check the rest of the main level, then head upstairs.”

They entered the family room, casting furtive glances over their shoulders.

“We have to find the others,” Trixie stated. “We heard Diana scream a little while ago, but we haven't been able to find her.”

“Harrison's looking for them, too,” Jim assured her. “But I haven't seen Miss Trask or Regan in ages.”

Honey bit her bottom lip. “What do we do?” she asked, turning to her big brother.

“We find Harrison,” Jim answered, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “He knows the house the best out of all of us.”

Dan nodded. “And he should be on this floor somewhere. He was going to search the upstairs while we did the basement.”

“We haven't seen him,” Honey said.

Dan shrugged. “I don't think Harrison is really seen unless he wants to be.”

“Still, I'd feel better if we were all together,” Trixie said, blue eyes clouded with worry.

Jim nodded. “Safety in numbers. I'm sure we'll find everyone soon--” His voice trailed off as they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the level below them.

“I thought Harrison was up here,” Honey whispered.

“That sounds like more than one person,” Jim pointed out.

“Jonesy?” Trixie asked.

No one answered.

Dan took a deep breath. “It doesn't matter. If it's the Bob-Whites, we want to meet up with them. If it's… him, well, we need to deal with him, too.”

Before the girls could blink, the boys were out of the room and heading toward the stairs.

“Stay here,” Dan hissed, just before he disappeared. “We need to be able to find you.”

Trixie planted her hands on her hips. “Well, how do you like that? Do they really think that we'll just stay here and wait for them?”

Honey sighed. “Let's give them a few minutes,” she suggested. “I really don't want to get separated again...”

Trixie sighed. The boys were out of sight already.

“I hear someone on the steps,” Diana hissed as they crept through the family room.

They all listened intently, and heard the unmistakable creaking of stairs. Brian reacted quickly, pulling all of them behind a sofa and forcing them to crouch.

“It's more than one person,” Mart stated.

Diana shuddered. “Do you think there's more than one bad guy?” she asked, clutching Mart's arm.

He covered her hand with his before replying. “We don't have any reason to think he's not alone.”

“But we don't know.”

Mart shook his head. “We'll just have to be careful.”

Harrison made a shushing sound as dark shadows appeared in the doorway of the family room. Two figures stole into the room, pausing often, as if they were looking for something, or someone. When they moved closer to the sofa, Brian let out a sigh of relief.

“Jim. Dan.” Brian stood up slowly, trying not to frighten his friends.

“Brian!” Jim passed a hand over his eyes. “Thank goodness. Are the others with you?”

Mart, Diana, and Harrison stood and the six moved to the middle of the room.

“Are either of you hurt?” Brian demanded, squinting at his friends.

“We're fine,” Dan said. “You guys?”

Mart nodded impatiently. “What do we do now?” he demanded. “We need to figure out who this bad guy is, and what he wants.”

Jim and Dan exchanged glances.

“It's Jonesy,” Jim said quietly.

“Maybe,” Dan retorted. “We don't know that for sure.”

“Wait,” Brian interjected, stopping what he could see was a source of escalating tension between his friends. “Jim, what makes you think Jonesy is behind this?”

“The cigarette smoke. The zip ties. The notes.” Jim ticked off his reasons on his hand.

“What notes?” Mart interrupted.

“We've found a few notes. Someone is looking to get his son back,” Dan said. “And it might not be Jonesy.”

“As I believe we've already established,” Harrison said, “it doesn't matter. The important thing is to get everyone together and get out of here before someone gets hurt.”

They nodded. “Where are Honey and Trixie?” Brian asked, gripping Jim's arm. “Have you seen them?”

“They're in the nursery,” Jim said.

“Then we need to get them, and get out of here as quickly as possible,” Harrison repeated.

“Dan and I’ll go,” Jim volunteered.  “The rest of you get out.  We can meet at the stable.”

“No,” Brian argued.  “There’s only one of him… I think.  We’re stronger together.”

Jim opened his mouth to disagree, but his words were halted by a thud and a short, sharp scream. “That was Honey!” he exclaimed, turning toward the sound. 

Harrison grabbed his arm pulling him aside.  “Wait!” he instructed.  “You can’t rush up there. We go carefully, or we don’t go at all.”

“Uh, gentlemen?” Dan interjected.  “It’s too late.” 

Sure enough, Brian, Mart and Diana had already turned the hall corner and were heading toward the nursery.  Harrison swore under his breath, a most un-butler-like incident that would have brought a smile to Dan’s face had the situation not been so dire.  “Wait here,” he said firmly, stepping toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Dan asked.

“We have a pocketknife and two small flashlights,” Harrison stated.  “I’m going to find a weapon.”  With that he was gone, leaving Jim and Dan alone in the shadows.

“We aren’t waiting.”  Jim said the words flatly.

“Can’t,” Dan acknowledged. “But we can’t let him see us, either.”

They slipped stealthily up the stairs and down the hall, senses alert to the slightest sound or flicker of light.  As they approached the nursery, the eerie silence was shattered by a single gunshot, followed by a low, evil laugh.  Hearts racing, both boys dropped to their hands and knees, crawling desperately for the door.

The nursery was dim, the only light coming from four battery operated ceramic jack-o-lanterns sitting on the windowsills, casting a flickering glow across a horrifying scene.  A large, stoop shouldered man in a Ronald Reagan mask held Honey close to his body, his left arm snug against her throat, the pistol in his right hand pointed at her temple.  Trixie was sprawled at his feet, her hands and feet tightly bound with zip ties, her eyes wide with fear and staring at Brian, Mart and Diana who were backed up against the opposite wall.  The masked man laughed again, the sound sending shivers down Dan’s back. 

He looked at Jim as the man called out in a sing-song falsetto, “One little, two little, three little, four little, five.  But not the one I want alive.  Hey, boy!  I know you’re out there.  Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Jim’s green eyes were bleak as he looked at Dan.  Slowly, he rose to his feet, shaking off Dan’s attempt to stop him.  Taking a deep breath, the husky red head stepped through the door.  “Let them go, Jonesy.  I’m right here.”

The big man turned, dragging a terrified Honey with him.  “Well, well,” he intoned, “look at what the cat dragged in.”  He moved the gun barrel away from Honey’s head for a moment, gesturing for Jim to join the other three Bob-Whites. “Close,” he chuckled evilly, “but no cigar.”  Loosening his grip on Honey a little, he pulled the mask from his face.

Jim stared in stunned silence.  “You aren’t Jonesy,” he breathed.

“Well, ain’t you the smart one,” the man taunted, waving the gun again.  “I sure ain’t this Jonesy fella, but I reckon I’d like to meet him.  If he wants you this bad, maybe we can do business.  But not now.  Now I want what’s mine.”  He raised his voice deliberately.  “If I don’t get what belongs to me, I’m gonna start shootin’ fish in this here pretty barrel.”

“Let them go, Bull.”  Dan appeared in the doorway, hands raised high, his face pale despite the shadows, his voice strained and resigned.  “It’s me you want, not them.”

“There you are, boy.”  Bull pushed Honey to the ground, but kept the gun pointed in her direction.  “I’ve been waiting for you.  Come to Daddy!”