Iwent immediately back to the station. Earlier today when I left home, I had gotten the tag number off the car sitting in Casey’s driveway. It was time for me to do a little bit of investigating, and I was going to start with the car.
The registration came back to a rental company. After checking with the company, I found the vehicle was rented in North Carolina to a man named Oliver Founds. I ran that name through the department of transportation databases in both North and South Carolina and got back four hits. A little more digging, and I had pictures to go with those four people and none of them were the man Casey had called Kevin. I tried running Kevin Founds, but only found one entry, and again, the driver’s license picture didn’t match.
I drummed my fingers on the desk in front of me. Okay, let’s try the internet. I opened a browser and typed in Casey’s name. “Whoa,” I mumbled as I saw hit after hit of articles showing up in the search.
I clicked on the first one, “Millionaire daughter left without a penny.” As I read the article everything began to click into place.
I now knew that the reason Casey had a BMW was because up until a year ago, she had been a very wealthy woman. That all changed when her father was arrested for fraud and a multitude of other offenses. There was a picture of Casey dressed in a classy suit and high heels trying to hide her face from the press as she was led out of the courthouse.
The next paragraph caught my attention and made me grind my teeth. The reporter spoke about the illicit relationship between millionaire Cassandra Lowe and a man by the name of Kevin Henrich. The details stated that the over-one-year relationship had ended with the arrest of Henrich. The next detail slammed into me hard, he was a married man.
The rest of the article talked more about how Kevin and her father had been scamming people for a whole lot of money for years. At the bottom of the article was a picture of Casey standing between two men. One was an older distinguished-looking gentleman, and the other one was the man who was with Casey right now.
Shit!
I went back to the list of articles and read a few more. Most of the details were the same.
I opened another tab and did a second search of Kevin Henrich. As the results populated the page, my heart seized when I saw the first headline. “Henrich believed to have killed his wife before he fled.”
He had been sentenced to house arrest, and two weeks ago had disappeared after cutting off his ankle bracelet. Police had responded the next day when they received a report from the probation department about the tampering of the bracelet, and when they arrived, they found his wife Bridget shot in the head and the bracelet laying on the floor.
I jotted down the phone number to the police station that was listed and tried to calm my heart. Instinct made me want to run to her house and save her. Experience said I needed to take this slowly and do it by the book. If Casey was being held hostage, then we needed to be careful how we went about this. If she was willingly allowing him to stay there, then she would be arrested also.
I hung my head. “Please, God, let her be the hostage and not party to this.”
I picked up the phone and called my chief, “Sir, sorry to bother you, but I believe we have a critical situation.”
Two hours later, our emergency response team was geared up and ready to go. The chief had responded to the station a few minutes after I had called and given him the scoop. While I waited for him to arrive, I had called down to the police department in South Carolina and advised them of the situation.
I was waiting for everyone to get settled, so we could go over the briefing while I replayed the conversation over in my head. “Do you believe that he would hold her hostage, or do you think she might be doing this willingly?” I had asked the detective over the phone.
“If Casey is involved in this, I’ll be shocked, but stranger things have happened. She wasn’t one to be shy about telling everyone that she never wanted to see the man again. She even went to see his wife and apologized to her, told her if she had known he was married, she never would have gotten involved with him.”
His words made me feel better, but I still had a sour taste in the back of my mouth. What if all of that was just setting the stage? What if they’d planned this all along and she had made it look like she hated the man, so people wouldn’t suspect her when he disappeared?
The briefing started a few moments later, and for the next thirty minutes, I talked to everyone about the details. We went over the layout of the house so they knew what they were walking into. We discussed how desperate he probably was to avoid capture, and that he most likely was armed with a firearm that was believed to be a .40 caliber.
Casey was also discussed, and while I hated what we were saying, I knew that we had to take no chances. She would be detained and interviewed to find out if she had anything to do with it. I would have to stay back and keep my distance until it was over.
I had already called Corrine and told her she needed to take Tommy somewhere for the night. The other houses on our street were far enough away that the residents should be safe, but I wasn’t taking any chances that a stray bullet, from enemy or friend, would find its way through the walls or windows of my house.
Corrine had put up a fight as she didn’t want to take Tommy someplace on Christmas Eve, but when I gave her a very condensed version of what was about to happen, she told me to save Casey and she would see us in the morning.
It was ten minutes until midnight when we began to descend on the house. We had already learned that the house phone line had been cut and we’d contacted the cellphone carrier of her cellphone and had them ping it to make sure it was on location.
The house was dark as I drove down the street. One police car, especially one pulling into my driveway like it did every night, would not cause suspicion. I was the lookout and stationed on the north side of the residence for the duration. Other members of the team were parked down the street, out of the line of sight, and were hoofing it toward their locations.
Once everyone was in place, the big guns were coming in. It was decided that a surprise entrance was the safest way to handle this one. After everyone had acknowledged their position, the armored Bear Cat rumbled down the street and stopped a hundred feet away. We had hoped we wouldn’t need it, but it was ready if we did.
The word was given and I tried to calm my anxiety, but to no avail. I wasn’t going to be able to breathe right until I knew Casey was safe.
I heard the discharge of the gun in the back of the house and the glass shattering in the quiet of the night as a gas canister was sent into the bedroom. At the same time, a team of six was on the front step wearing gas masks and took down the front door with a battering ram. The old door pretty much exploded as the heavy metal and strength of the adrenaline-amped-up team members struck it. One member stepped aside, setting the ram down and covering the front door as the other five members entered the dark residence.
Within seconds there were loud voices shouting commands, and a woman’s raised voice filled the cold night air. My heart clutched in my chest as I realized that was Casey yelling. A few minutes later, one of the team members announced that they had two in custody and the rest of the residence was clear and secure.
Two ambulances pulled up out front. The EMTs climbed out and pulled open the back doors. Both Kevin and Casey would be given oxygen and checked out after being in the gas, then they would both be taken to the station and interviewed.
Casey was brought out first, hunched over and coughing roughly as she was directed to the first gurney. Her hands were secured in front of her with the plastic straps that the team used. The EMT put oxygen on her as she continued to cough and wrapped her left arm with the blood pressure cuff.
Three team members exited the residence next, escorting a seriously pissed off Kevin. In between the coughs, he was screaming that he wasn’t going to jail and that he was going to kill Casey for telling the police he was there.
I watched from a distance, afraid to get too close to her. If I did, I knew I would pull her into my arms. Until I got the okay that she was in the clear, I needed to avoid her.
Casey was coughing less now and scanning the area. I had no doubt she was looking for me. I approached her without any further thought. When I breached the spotlight off the back of the ambulance, Casey turned in my direction.
“Thad,” her voice was muffled behind the oxygen mask. Tears streamed down her face, but I knew they were more likely from the gas than from seeing me.
I stopped a few feet away. “Are you alright, Casey?”
She nodded and wiped her cheeks before she pulled the mask back slightly, “What happens now?”
I glanced around the area and saw my chief approaching us. “You have to go to the station for an interview.”
“Thad,” she called my name, but I couldn’t look at her. I was so damned afraid to find out she had been involved. “Thad, please look at me.”
I took a steadying breath and gave her my attention. “I swear I had nothing to do with this. He showed up in the middle of the night and had a gun. He said he killed his wife and he threatened you and your family. I had to do what he said until I could find a safe way to get free.”
She coughed hard when she finished speaking, and I almost dropped to my knees. Please let that be the truth. I gave her a hard nod and turned away.
Thirty minutes later, Casey was in an interview room at the station, and I was standing behind the mirror watching her as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Even with her face a total mess and her eyes almost glowing red from the gas, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
One of our detectives came in and sat down with Casey. He didn’t know all the details from South Carolina and for a few minutes, Casey filled him in while sipping from a water bottle. Then she went into what had transpired this last week, and I felt sick.
Why hadn’t I intervened sooner? I rested my forehead on the cold glass as I tried not to beat myself up too much. My chief stood beside me and when she finished with her statement, he put his hand on my shoulder to get my attention.
“You didn’t know, Thad.”
“I know, but I should have guessed,” I replied bitterly.
“Stop giving yourself a hard time and go in there and make that woman feel better.” He glanced at his watch, “It is almost three in the morning, take that woman home and show her a Merry Christmas.”
I studied the chief for a moment and then looked back through the glass. “Am I that transparent?” The chief grinned as the detective shook Casey’s hand. “Thanks, Chief.”
I yanked the door open, finally feeling like this whole mess was over. When the detective stepped out, he winked at me. I stood in the doorway and inspected every inch of her from her bare feet to her head. A tear ran down her cheek, and it broke me from my trance. I surged toward her, pulling her hard to my chest. Her arms wrapped around my neck and practically choked me, but I didn’t care.
“Casey, are you alright?”
I felt her nod against me.
“Baby, I don’t know what I would have done,” I pulled back and took her face in my hands, “if he had done something to you.”
“I’m so sorry, Thad.” More tears streaked her face, and I bent to kiss them away.
“Don’t apologize to me. I wish I had figured it out earlier.”
“But you did figure it out, thank God.” She closed her eyes and shivered.
“Come on, I’m taking you home.”
She stiffened, “I don’t want to go home.”
I ran my thumb over her lower lip, “Not your home, mine. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
