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“I didn’t think twice. I just thought it would be quicker if I went to the store and she stayed with Rory.” Jane sat forward and picked lint from the afghan with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze. There was a small sniff. Then her eyes met his, but she quickly looked out the window where the rain continued to pour.
“I…um…” She struggled, swallowing hard. “I got back and they were inside my apartment. At least two of them. With guns. They never spoke, wore masks and shoved typed notes in front of me.”
Steve forced himself not to interrupt and then pried his short nails from the palms of his hands. He stood, needing to relax, keep a clear head and not tear her story apart. Just let her finish.
“Mrs. Newinsky and Rory weren’t there. The note had instructions telling me they had Rory and they’d take me to him if I didn’t make a scene.”
“So that happened two days before I followed you at the fireworks.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to do what they said. They had Rory. I got into the side door of a black van and didn’t see the plates. They blindfolded me—”
“Did you count the turns? Any unusual smells or sounds?”
“As much as I would like to believe I could re-create the ride, I tried to keep track but I can’t tell you anything significant. It was a building with no visible address. I couldn’t see the surrounding skyline. Nothing. All I know is that forty-something turns later I still wasn’t with Rory.”
“What did they want?”
“Not much the first day. Being separated from Rory drove me insane. It was the same for most of July third.”
“Wait a minute. You rented a car on the third.”
“Not me.” She shook her head and pulled the afghan tighter. “The last note said the car was in my name and to avoid the police. It also stated to find the stroller by the Mustang sculpture at the fireworks. Everything I needed, including clothes, was in the car. One man drove me to the hotel parking garage.”
Images of a little boy floated into his mind, a toddler with short chubby legs and a patch of light brown hair the shade of Jane’s.
Why was he unable to concentrate? He was a federal agent. He should be able to keep his head, be able to think about this situation rationally. He diligently concentrated on the tile where each boot fell as he paced.
“How many men were there?”
“I think two, but it’s hard to be certain.”
“Could you recognize any of them?” His boot hit a cracked tile. An accident he and his brother were probably responsible for. Concentrate.
“They wore full head masks and never spoke.”
“Since they didn’t do anything to you and didn’t need you earlier than the fourth, why not wait and take you just before the fireworks? Why take your son? Why this elaborate scheme to collect ransom money?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t shrug or move. Then her chin quivered.
He felt like an ass.
“So tell me about last night.”
“They watched everything I did during the fireworks. The one time they spoke, their voices were altered somehow. One guy met me in a boat, took the money and took me to the car. I needed to hide, so I came here on the way to San Antonio.”
“San Antonio?”
“That’s what the instructions said to do. I need to meet them at the Alamo on the sixth and I’ll get Rory back.”
No spoken instructions? Disappearing notes? Secret formulas and threats to her child? This was so farfetched he didn’t know where to begin to tear her story to shreds. It didn’t make sense.
And what happens if she’s lying to you, pal? A niggling voice kept gnawing at his thoughts. There weren’t any pictures, no kid clothes, no toys.
“I went to your apartment, Jane.” Confronting her was easier than playing guessing games. “There isn’t any evidence to support what you’re telling me.”
“What do you mean?”
Like he would with any suspect, he watched for tells. Subtle expression changes, a shifting of her eyes to indicate she was lying.
All he could see was Jane. Holy cow, she wasn’t lying. She had a son. Rory was real.
“The team wasn’t gentle when they searched your place, but they were thorough. I think I would have noticed if a child lived there.”
Jane looked confused. “Why would they take his things? It was the only room I’d finished unpacking.”
The tip of Jane’s nose turned red from holding back the tears she refused to surrender to again. Her lip trembled as much as her clasped hands. He clenched his jaw tighter to withhold his sympathy and drew on a reserve of professionalism he’d never tapped before.
This wasn’t a normal abduction. It didn’t fit any profile, any standard he could focus on. His gut told him the kidnappers didn’t have any intention of returning her son. It didn’t make sense.
“Who are these ghosts?” He didn’t hold back his frustration, letting his voice boom through the room. She flinched. He didn’t expect Jane to answer, but she shrugged and choked back a sob.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see them.” She dropped her face into her hands, thought better of it and looked into the far corner. “Details scream at me every moment of my life. I don’t forget anything. Ever. But I can’t remember what they didn’t expose me to.”
“I want to believe you.” But he wouldn’t let his wants get in the way of reality. As much as he wanted to accept everything she said, he still hadn’t heard a viable reason why she would be anyone’s target. The Brants, yes. They had a million dollars’ worth of reasons—that Jane didn’t have with her anymore.
“How did you know I’d find your message?”
“Actually, I hoped they wouldn’t have to involve you, Steve. I assumed the police would discover who I am and hoped. I hoped that someone would look inside the book.”
Dang it! Did all her actions imply she was innocent or did he want her to be? “Why not just write details about the kidnapping and let the police know about your son?”
“They handed the note to me when we arrived in the parking garage. I found the stroller, then found a free pen when I passed by a booth. I barely managed to write ‘Zaphod’ on the top before the fireworks began. I hoped by mentioning a character from your favorite book, it would draw your attention to the case. What if they don’t follow through, Steve? I need your help to make certain I’m the one at the Alamo.”
With McCaffrey in charge, there wasn’t much chance of him helping with the exchange. He had serious doubts anything he said would be taken into consideration.
“Driving here wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Jane.” The rain had probably played in her favor, or she would have been apprehended in that rental. Which was probably what the kidnappers had wanted. “You should have called me, the police, anyone who could have helped you.”
With her body covered with the afghan, he couldn’t pick up any abnormal nervousness. She had just as much apprehension as any parent he’d interviewed after a child went missing.
“When we were together, Steve, you spoke of your last case. The reason you were on medical leave. The parents didn’t follow the kidnappers’ instructions—” a choked sob caught in her throat “—and the child…”
Died.
He remembered Kevin Haughton every day. He couldn’t avoid seeing the scar on his chest from the bullet that had nearly killed him. There wasn’t any way on earth he could argue with her reasoning. He’d given it to her.
“I couldn’t take the chance to phone on the way here. What if they were following me? I thought I was doing the best thing.”
“I don’t doubt you thought you were right. But this makes no sense. Kidnappers don’t work this way. Why involve another person? Why you? Why force you to pick up the ransom from a second abduction?” He walked the length of the living room.
Stopping at the window, he watched the steady downpour of rain. Rising water would soon be their enemy, just like time. The longer the kidnappers took to return her son, the less likely he’d be found.
God, he was convinced. It surprised him how easily Jane had persuaded him. Yet, he knew she was holding something back.
“What’s next?” he asked her. “You said you were waiting to surface in San Antonio. When?”
“I need to be at the Alamo tomorrow morning at ten. They’re supposed to give me Rory,” she said.
Steve heard another choked sob, and his chest constricted tighter.
During their whirlwind romance, Jane had never cried. Their days and nights had been completely filled with laughter and love. Keeping his back to her now and maintaining his distance was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He tightened his grip on the window frame, but could only focus on her reflected image in the glass as she slipped the blanket from her shoulders. No woman’s tears had ever affected him this way.
“Steve—” her voice shook near the point of breaking “—you said the other little boy hadn’t been returned. Does that mean they won’t…that they may hurt Rory?”
Turning to her, he tried to reassure her, refusing to think about the possibilities connected to this strange MO. He wouldn’t stop until he found both boys. “He’ll be fine. We’ll find them both.”
“But—”
“No buts. We’ll leave as soon you can get some of Mom’s clothes and shoes, before the flooding gets worse.” He looked pointedly at the towel around her neck and smiled as reassuringly as he could. “The phone is out. I need to try my cell again since I couldn’t get a signal earlier.”
“What will happen if the police think I kidnapped the Brant child?” Her eyes widened and pleaded as she shook her head. “You can’t tell them I’m with you, Steve. Promise me. Rory needs me.”
“I promise to do everything I can to find him.”
She rose and the towel fell behind her as she walked to him with her shoulders back and face tilted to look him in the eyes. Her small hand flattened on his chest covering his heart. The rest of her body followed until he could rest his chin on the top of her head. He wanted to kiss her so badly he could barely get air into his lungs.
Would he ever be able to think straight around her?
“Please tell me I’m doing the right thing by trusting you,” she whispered. “They said not to let the FBI know, but I need you. I can’t do this alone.”
He put his arms around her, loving every miserable minute of agony it caused him. At that moment he didn’t care if it would jeopardize the operation. He didn’t care if his attachment was too strong and would cloud his judgment. He wanted Jane right where she was.
“We’ve got to call. It’s our only choice, Jane. Dallas doesn’t have any leads except you.” He let his words hang in the air a moment, but she didn’t respond. “They don’t know your neighbor is missing. If we find her, she may be able to give a description of the kidnappers.”
“I can’t let you take me back.” Barely shaking her head, she tightened her grip on his shirt. “Not until I’ve done what they said I have to do.” Her body trembled, an imperceptible tremor that could be associated with tears.
“It’s okay to cry, Jane,” he whispered in her ear.
“No, it’s not. It achieves nothing and keeps me from thinking. But I miss Rory. What if he’s scared and is crying for me?”
“You can’t think of that.” He could say the same for himself. It impaired an agent’s judgment when he got too involved. Like he was right now, cradling Jane. “We have to concentrate on getting him back. And we will. I promise.”
But he couldn’t make promises that excluded the best way to find the Brant kid. Somehow, he’d contact his team and protect Jane. By harboring and abetting a suspected felon? Him. Steve Woods, hard-nosed, by-the-book FBI agent.
Yeah, shot down with one look from the only woman who’d ever meant anything to him.
Chapter Three
The storm raged outside. Whitecaps on the lake splashed over the boat dock. A perfect scene for Jane’s turbulent feelings and emotions. She was drowning in guilt. Guilt over leaving Rory, guilt over not telling Steve straightaway he was a father.
Even now, she couldn’t wrap her mind around any words good enough to explain why she’d waited so long to tell him. Nothing she formed in her mind convinced her to say the words aloud.
“What’s he like?” Steve asked near the top of her head.
“Rory?” She couldn’t breathe. Of all the things he could have asked, she wasn’t prepared to describe his son to him. Not right now.
“Yeah, Rory. Your son.”
Your son. Simple words she didn’t know how to correct. The lie gave her a nauseous feeling. His son, too. Was it too late to tell him?
Just do it. Say, “Steve, you’re Rory’s father.” Tell him why you kept his son away from him for almost four years. Tell him you were an idiot and scared to death of losing everything. Tell him why you came back to Texas.
Tell him!
“I thought you said you needed to make a call,” she said instead, too much of a coward to try to convince Steve of anything else.
“Calling will wait.”
Jane searched his face for Agent Steve Woods. He was as reliable as a Swiss Army knife when it came to the Bureau. He’d never put off work before. He’d chosen his job over a possible future with her.
Granted, four years ago they’d only been together several weeks and he’d been between assignments. But the fervor he’d used when talking about his job made her more than a little envious.
She’d yearned for that passion. It was part of what drew her to him. It would be so nice to get lost in Steve’s enthusiasm for life. To forget about all her worries for just a little while. But Rory’s kidnapping was her first priority.
Lightning lit the sky and thunder shook the windows. The weather wasn’t working in her favor. The longer she waited to tell him the truth, the less he’d believe her. What would he say when she admitted she’d kept knowledge of his child from him?
“Maybe this conversation should wait. It’s getting worse out there.” He nodded his head toward the window. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll hit my mom’s closet for some clothes. You can at least start out mud-free before we take off again.”
His breath moved tendrils of hair across her face. It tickled her skin, but she wasn’t about to move from his arms. She needed to feel connected to someone, anyone, but was grateful it was Steve.
“What’s going to happen?” She tried to remain calm, to keep the shakiness from her voice. “If they have the money and the formula, why not give Rory back?”
“I don’t know, Janie. I really don’t know.”
“WE HAD…LEAD…OPERATIONS…moved…San Antonio.”
“I’m only getting every other word, George.” He was soaked to the skin after standing on the covered porch, but it was the only place his phone halfway worked. Steve glanced through the window to an empty living room as he spoke into his cell. “Can you hear me? She’s innocent.”
“I can have a team…evacuation point…approximately two hours…local PD to pick her up.” George’s distorted voice punched through the static on the connection.
“No.” He hated the thought of Jane in handcuffs. “George, trust me. I don’t need any help to get her to San Antonio. Set up around the Alamo like I asked so we can catch these bastards.”
“You…way over your head. You know…and McCaffrey hit the roof…you were gone.”
“I’m losing the connection, man. We’ll meet you in San Antonio. Give me your word.”
“You’re wrong. You can’t trust…”
“Just check it out for me.”
