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“Fiona has the means and knowledge to disappear at will. If she goes underground with Leo, I don’t know how I’ll ever find him again.”
He could tell she thought he was overstating things. He didn’t blame her. He added, “I know this, Julia, because that’s how she raised me.”
“Moving you, hiding you—”
“Yes.”
“Nicole told me you were orphaned.”
“Father disappeared before birth, identity and location unknown. Mom died after giving birth. Her sister, Aunt Fiona, stepped in and took me. She was a fierce parent.”
“Who would never hurt you.”
“She thinks I’m dead, remember? I should have contacted her, but I didn’t trust her not to say something to Nicole. In retrospect, it was cruel on my part to do this to her.”
“Then the thing in the parking garage,” Julia said, her glance taking in his bandaged arm this time, “had to be an accident.”
“No. I don’t think so. I don’t know what that was about, but there was a calculated air about the whole thing. It wasn’t until the car revved up and headed straight for you that I realized I’d been aware of an idling engine for some time.”
“Just a moment. Your aunt tried to run me down?”
“No, of course not. That’s what I mean about things not making sense.”
“You can say that again,” she said, making another turn.
“Fiona wouldn’t have done any of this herself. She would have arranged it. Maybe one of her minions got creative.”
This remark was met with silence.
“It’s at least a place to start,” he said as they turned yet another corner. Though it had stopped raining and a full moon bathed the streets, he knew he’d never find his way out of this maze of streets and look-alike houses without help. He pushed aside the thought of leaving. First he had to make sure Julia’s house was safe for her to return to, and then he’d contact his aunt and figure out transportation—
She said, “The police—”
“The police aren’t going to be able to solve this situation,” he said. “They’ll wait for a ransom call that will never come. They’ll appeal to the public. My son’s photo will end up on a milk carton if they still do that. If I want Leo back, I’m going to have to get him myself.”
As she made another turn, her voice turned thoughtful. “I’m going to go about this the traditional way,” she said. “I’m going to rely on the cops and wait for a call. I can’t take the chance that I’ll let Leo down again, that I won’t be there when the right time occurs.”
He sneaked another look at her. Was it possible she’d forgotten that Leo no longer needed her as a guardian, at least for the long term, that his father was alive and well and sitting in the seat next to her?
Or did she still not believe he was who he said he was?
Or maybe she’d just written him off. God Almighty, she wouldn’t try to take Leo away from him, would she? Claim he was unbalanced or that his wacky aunt had undue influence?
That aunt of his. She’d been his salvation and his cross to bear, as touchy as a rattlesnake, as crafty as a third-world despot.
Irritated with Julia’s obstinacy, he looked out the window. The neighborhood through which they traveled wasn’t ritzy. Lawns looked sparse. The moonlight revealed too many abandoned toys littering driveways and front yards. Lots of cars, most older than the compact in which he rode, which had to be entering its teens. Compared to the lakeside community he’d been working on before his supposed death, this place looked like a slum. Even his and Nicole’s high-rise condo looked classy in comparison. It was hard to picture Nicole even visiting such modest surroundings.
But more to the point, how could Julia believe anyone would stage such an intricate kidnapping to gain custody of Leo just to ransom him back to a woman who drove an old car and lived in a very modest house? The certainty his aunt was behind this doubled.
Julia pulled her aging sedan into the driveway of a small square house. The wash of headlights revealed well-tended plants and no accumulated junk. Other than that, it looked very much like every other house on the block.
“Home,” she said with a touch of anxiety he realized he’d planted. She was nervous. Good. Might keep her on her toes.
Okay, he shouldn’t have accompanied Julia home. Now he was stuck out here with a phone tapped by the police. But he couldn’t let her return to a house that could be booby-trapped when she wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for him. He’d check out the house, figure out his next step, warn her about locking up and disappear into the night.
Easier said than done, but he’d do it just the same. The most important thing was to get Leo back.
Clothes and ID weren’t the only things he’d lost when his boat exploded. Also gone were his laptop, cell phone and address book, all of which held his aunt’s unlisted number. He’d never bothered to memorize her number. Why bother when it was always handy? A man doesn’t expect to have his whole life blown apart.
“Do you have a computer?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She was soon out of the car, pulling the blue stuffed animal from the back where he’d tossed it when he got in the passenger seat. Maybe he could use her computer to access the address book on his computer at work. Of course, since the architectural firm of Wainwright and Co. thought he was dead, they may well have terminated his access…He’d have to see.
And he’d also have to talk Julia Sheridan out of her car.
Reenergized with a plan of action, he got out of the car and followed Julia up the front walk toward her door. She should have left lights burning for her return, but then he recalled she hadn’t expected to get back after dark.
He was about to step in front of her when he noticed a faint line of light stripping the long vertical edge of the door. He glanced to his left, through what appeared to be her kitchen window.
He pulled Julia back against his chest, moving backward.
“Hey—” she gasped before he slapped a hand over her mouth. Loosening his grip, he leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear. “Your front door is ajar. There’s a light bobbing around in there,” he whispered. “Someone with a flashlight.”
To his absolute amazement, she tore herself free and stormed toward her unlocked door, ripping it open and charging inside before he could stop her.
Raised voices reached him as he crossed the threshold in her wake.
A moment later, a gunshot thundered through the house.
Chapter Three
As the dark shape of a man charged toward her, Julia swung Leo’s stuffed elephant by its trunk. She felt the impact as she hit something. A male voice swore. She kicked what she hoped was a leg, kicked hard, aiming for the side of the kneecap where it would do the most damage. If she connected.
She hit something. Her foot throbbed as a gun fired and someone ran over the top of her.
“Get off me!” she screamed, kicking and throwing punches, driven now by fear as well as anger.
Will’s voice reached her. “Are you hurt?” he yelled, all but lifting her to her feet.
“Get him!” she cried, pointing at the sliding glass door that led to the backyard where the dark figure of her attacker, highlighted against the light coming through the glass, struggled with the latch.
Will darted toward the door. Julia heard it slide open and the dark shape disappeared into her yard, Will on his heels.
She staggered to the door, flipping on the yard light just in time to see Will leap over the low fence in the back, still in pursuit. Both men disappeared into the merciless shadows of the neighbor’s yard.
She found other light switches and flipped them all on, illuminating every dark corner.
The gunshot had taken off a corner of a plaster wall and shattered a mirror. But not before it had torn through the elephant, almost severing its neck, ripping its blue fur, blasting out an eyeball. Stuffing, piled like snow drifts, littered the floor along with shards of glass from the mirror. Julia dropped the elephant—it was beyond saving. She swept the glass and stuffing against the floorboards where it wouldn’t be a hazard.
She would have to get Leo a new stuffed animal. The thought brought more tears to her eyes.
Moving from room to room, she found a pillow case missing from one of the pillows on her bed. Besides that, only a couple of open drawers drew her attention until it dawned on her that the few nice things she owned were gone.
A locket belonging to her mother. A silver frame around a picture of her sister. Her father’s modest coin collection. Her whole family, gone, and now the precious few mementoes she’d managed to hold on to after years of turmoil gone as well.
As were a few pieces of costume jewelry and the silver-plated ladle she’d received as a Christmas gift. From Nicole.
Julia picked up the cordless phone to call 911. She paused on the last digit, clicking the phone off, re-settling it on the charger base, glancing toward the door through which Will had disappeared.
What in the hell was going on?
What kind of burglar robs a house in a neighborhood like this one, settling on a few ornaments when the computer and stereo were worth far more?
“Tweakers,” her boss, George Abbot, called them. His brother was a cop and George enjoyed throwing out the lingo. He was referring to meth addicts, people who stole just to finance their next high. Petty crime, as a rule of thumb, nonviolent. That kind of break-in was common around here.
But the gun—
Julia plopped down on the inexpensive over-stuffed red chair she’d bought on deferred payments just hours before news of Nicole’s death had reached her. Stilling her trembling hands by sitting on them, she looked at the few other pieces of furniture, each chosen to complement the sunny-yellow paint of the walls.
This house was her castle. In daylight, sun streamed through the windows and pooled on the floors. After dark, it became a sanctuary, a place in which to retreat from the world. It was the reason she’d marched through the front door without thinking and almost gotten herself shot dead.
She’d left that morning intending to share her home with a tiny boy who needed her. She’d come home empty-handed, the child’s whereabouts unknown, his future in jeopardy, her haven violated.
And now his father was here, a dead man, only not dead. Where was Will?
When the phone rang, Julia popped to her feet. Her heart rate doubled. The kidnappers! It had to be.
“Hello?” she said, listening for some sound, a clicking, a whir, that would indicate the police had activated the tracing device. Of course, advanced technology no doubt precluded telltale sounds—
“Miss Sheridan? This is Detective Morris.”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “Detective Morris.”
“Sorry to alarm you,” he said. “Just calling to see if you made it home okay.”
“Well—”
“I want you to know we’ll have a police car patrolling your neighborhood tonight, starting at midnight. There are no new developments at the airport. Any word from the kidnappers? Any new developments we should know about?”
She should tell him about her intruder…
Her gaze strayed to the glass door as Will Chastain made his way across her well-lit patio, a bag of some kind dangling from his right hand. Relieved to see him still in one piece, she took a deep breath. He looked up and their eyes met.
She said, “Nothing to report, Detective.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Did Monsieur Pepin return to Washington?”
“We let him go a couple of hours ago. We know where to find him. He was very upset. He feels responsible.”
Don’t we all? Julia thought.
“You call if you need anything. We’ll monitor all your incoming calls.”
“I understand,” she said, replacing the receiver as Will let himself in the sliding glass door.
“He got away,” he said, crossing the floor in his socks. He pointed at the phone and added, “You called the cops?”
“No. They called me.” As a flicker of hope ignited his eyes, she added, “It was a routine call, nothing more.”
“I see. Did you tell them about…this?”
Her knees wobbled. Julia sat down again. Some of it was the culmination of the day’s events, some of it was the profound relief that Will had returned unharmed.
If he was Will Chastain. But even that automatic mental disqualifier felt feeble now. She’d started accepting him as who he said he was some time before. For better or worse, she’d bought into his story.
And now she coveted his presence. Disheveled and weathered though he was, he exuded confidence and something more.
Determination. That was it. Nothing was going to stop him. No one was going to keep him from Leo. What must it be like to be loved like that, wanted like that? It struck her that if Leo was ever going to return to her—to them—Will was going to have to be a part of it. And she wanted to be a part of it, too.
She said, “I didn’t mention any of…this.”
“Because?”
“I guess I thought we should talk about it first,” she said.
“Then let’s talk.”
“First tell me what happened out there,” she said, gesturing at the only other chair in the room. It was orange and armless, not really comfortable, chosen for its color and price tag rather than its function. That had seemed the way to decorate to Julia who, before decorating this house, had never even chosen a bedspread for herself.
He brought her the sack which she’d more or less forgotten about until he placed it in her hands. It was the pillowcase off her bed, a fact she’d registered when he’d come through the door with it dangling from his hand. In it, she found all her missing items.
Trinkets. Mementoes of a scratchy past, of people whose faces had faded in her mind.
Studying the bullet-sheared wall and the mess of stuffing and plaster and glass swept against the baseboard, Will whistled. “Thank the Lord our thief is a lousy shot or you’d be dead,” he said as he perched on the edge of the orange chair. There were bright smears of blood on the scarf still wrapped around his arm. There were also new streaks of mud on his pants and caked on his shoes. He looked absolutely exhausted.
At first Nicole had often commented on her husband’s good looks and his success as an architect. The comments had morphed, though, into how cruel he was. No specifics, just words like selfish and callous which Julia had always understood to mean he wasn’t giving Nicole everything she wanted.
He said, “I chased him through at least five backyards. Woke up every dog in the neighborhood. The guy had a limp, but he ran like hell. I think I would have caught him except that I slipped in some mud and he scampered over another fence. I heard a car door, but by the time I got to the fence and looked over, he was peeling away from the curb.”
Julia, proud that her kick had connected with the intruder’s leg, said, “Was the car the same—”
“As the one from the parking garage? I don’t know. It could have been. Same low profile, same general color but other than that…I just don’t know.”
“It has to be connected,” Julia said.
