like a fugitive, figuring his chances of avoiding capture increased with the fewer people he engaged.
“I’ll meet you at the shuttle,” he said, squeezing her hand. “The cops could be watching the rental agencies.”
Sarah looked at him worriedly and said, “okay, but don’t keep me waiting.”
“Trust me…I’ll be there, Mrs. Marshall.”
Sarah promptly checked for new messages from Jarrod, and received his latest two word transmission which merely read: ‘Wildcat Catfish.’ Then she hurried to Enterprise and rented a Lincoln Navigator, thinking the extra horsepower would be useful. She declined the model with onboard GPS, worried that it could be used to track their whereabouts. Sarah asked the rental agent to verify the directions to West Point and if he knew of Wildcat Catfish. The agent confirmed he’d heard of the farm and didn’t imagine it would be difficult to find.
While Sarah was busy with the rental, Ryan went in search of fast food they could take without stopping again to eat. He found a Kentucky Fried Chicken just beyond the baggage claim area. How appropriate, he thought. He used cash to buy two boxed lunches and bottled water, and returned to meet Sarah outside at the rental-car shuttle.
“We good?” Ryan asked, relieved to see Sarah quickly approaching the bus.
“Perfect,” Sarah said pleasantly. “But listen to this…the last message from Jarrod had two words: ‘Wildcat Catfish.’”
“Yeah?” Ryan said, unsure what that meant.
“Sooo…I searched for a Wildcat Catfish website in Kentucky, and what do you think I found?” she asked, a satisfied look on her face. There was no mistaking that she had discovered something worthwhile and could barely contain herself.
“I don’t know…you came up empty?” he smirked, playing the fool.
Sarah looked crossly at Ryan. She slapped his thigh with the back of her hand and replied, “No, silly…I found that Wildcat Catfish is located in West Point, Kentucky, and owned by Emil and Helene Struffeneger. What do you bet that Jarrod and Jer are being held at the catfish farm?”
“Well…I’m not a betting man…unless it’s a sure thing. And on this news, I’d bet our company. That’s awesome, sweetheart,” Ryan said, sharing Sarah’s excitement. It did appear that they were drawing closer to where the guys were being held captive.
“I also sent Jarrod another message that we’ve arrived in Louisville. He’ll know reinforcements are on the way. We’re gonna find them, honey,” she said, her smile radiating the hope she felt. “Just another minute, I need to call Lieutenant Morris and let him know about Wildcat. He needs to alert the local authorities as quickly as possible. I may not get another chance to call him.”
“Alright, but just a quick call, okay? And I wouldn’t mention we’re in Louisville.”
As she was fishing the phone out of her handbag, she pressed her lips, frowning. “It’s okay…I’ve got this.”
“Sorry…I’m just nervous,” he confessed. “The sooner we get the car and ditch the airport, the better I’ll feel.”
Sarah left Morris another succinct voicemail message. She reported that Jarrod’s latest email read ‘Wildcat Catfish,’ which she surmised meant a catfish farm somewhere in Kentucky. She gave no indication about their present location or plans. The message delivered, she put away her phone and the laptop. It was time to follow their next lead to Jeremiah and Jarrod.
Within forty minutes of arriving in Louisville, the couple was on Route 30 toward West Point. Several highway billboards advertizing Wildcat Catfish buoyed their optimism that their search for Jer was fast approaching a conclusion.
As the Enterprise agent predicted, the Wildcat Catfish Farm complex was easy to find, primarily because it offered public fishing, and Southern folks had an affinity for catfish. Signs alerted travelers to the appropriate highway exit to reach the farm, and further directed them to the facility’s exact location.
As they drove, Ryan recognized the approaching farm by a series of locks that controlled water flowing into large ponds adjacent to the road. Then they saw the large feed silo with the Wildcat Catfish logo proudly announcing they had reached their destination. Ryan decided to drive by without stopping.
“This is it,” he said excitedly. “What’s your bet Jarrod’s machine is under the tarp on that Peterbilt? Notice all the other vehicles have the Wildcat logo? That one doesn’t… I’ll stake you anything it belongs to the guys that nabbed Jer,” he observed, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Ryan, slow down,” Sarah said, craning her neck around to get a better look.
“Not just yet. They’ll have posted a lookout and I don’t want to draw any attention. These guys aren’t prone to mistakes…no reason to believe they’re not watching the traffic, too.”
“Ryan, we didn’t come all this way just to observe, did we?” she asked, looking confused.
Ryan shrugged. “Of course not, but we can’t just storm the place demanding they return Jer. We’re going in, but we need to be strategic.”
“Okay, you’re right…so now can we call the authorities?” she asked hopefully.
“Sure, but just Morris, no one else. Tell him we’re at Wildcat Catfish Farm and we suspect the kidnappers are holed up here, too,” Ryan replied.
They drove about a mile past the main entrance of the farm and Ryan pulled alongside a work truck parked next to one of the ponds. The truck was unlocked. He reached inside and took one of the worker’s hats and a denim coat that looked much too small for his large frame. He grabbed it anyway.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked, looking increasingly puzzled.
“We’re turning around and you’re going to drop me off at the entrance. They’ll think I’m an employee returning from the field. I want to look around. If I see a black van we’ll know for sure that Jer’s here. Then we call the police.”
“Are you out of your mind? Ryan, we’ve settled this. I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together,” she said emphatically. “Now, please…no more talk about splitting up.”
“Don’t you understand how dangerous this is?” he asked, trying not to sound argumentative. “These guys play by different rules. They have no compunction. They’ve murdered, kidnapped, and robbed to get to this point. Yes, we need the police, Sarah…but I want to confirm Jer and Jarrod are really here. If the police raid that house and they aren’t inside, these men will retaliate. We’d lose them for sure. We can’t take that chance. Don’t worry… I’ll be careful,” he said reassuringly.
“Shoot! I hate when you’re right,” she said, grinding her teeth. “But I’m calling Morris first. He needs to know we’ve located the kidnappers.”
“Agreed.”
Sarah called Morris and left another message. She provided him their whereabouts and the plan to confirm if Jeremiah was present. She promised to call 911 when they had verification.
Ryan returned to the Wildcat Farm entrance and parked in the area opposite the visitor parking. He put on the ball cap, picked up the denim coat, and threw it over his shoulder.
Sarah stayed with the vehicle and watched her ex-husband walk toward the closest service building. The overhead retractable steel door was closed, forcing Ryan to enter from the side door.
As he entered the building a shot of adrenalin quickened his pulse. Inside were two black SUVs, conspicuous by the absence of the familiar Wildcat logo. Two men were busily working near the back of one of the vehicles but didn’t notice his presence.
Confident the vehicles proved the authenticity of Jarrod’s messages, Ryan decided to peek into the back windows of the main house, hoping for visual proof that Jer was inside. He maintained a casual gait, trying to imitate an employee who knew his business. He walked past the side of the house looking for an open window, but the shades had all been drawn. He continued searching but stopped abruptly at a gate leading into the back of the residence. The entire backyard was visible from the interior of the house, but the pool reflected off the porch glass, making it impossible to see inside. The risk of going any further was too great.
Ryan turned to retrace his steps and was startled by a tall man standing at the edge of the house holding a gun. Even though he had never seen the man’s face, he knew immediately this was the same man who had kidnapped Jeremiah.
“Welcome to the party, Mr. Marshall,” Stuart Farley said, keeping his 9-mm Glock pointed directly at Ryan’s head. “I don’t know how you found us, but I assure you it was the stupidest thing you ever did. Now put your
