Lethal Ransom

by Laurie Alice Eakes

  “You didn’t make Kirkpatrick a criminal and an unnatural parent.”

  “And Michele could have been shot standing on the sidewalk while you or anyone else changed her tire. It happens to bystanders more often than it should.”

  “You sound like Gina,” Nick muttered.

  Kristen laughed. “Right?”

  Feeling a little twitchy, he rose and strode to the rail. The storm was blowing off, lightning and thunder far to the east. A few stars glinted through the breaking clouds, and he guessed they had an hour or two before dawn. They should start out again shortly after first light.

  “As for blaming God,” Kristen continued when he didn’t speak, “We all make choices. Michele could have taken a taxi.”

  “And I didn’t have to take someone else’s shift.”

  “Is either decision God’s fault?” Kristen licked her dry lips. “I blamed God when I had to go into hiding for a month when I was fifteen, right after my mother took the bench. It was horrible. I’ve had panic attacks ever since. But the only people to blame are the men who perpetrated the crime. I’ve had to learn that in my work.”

  “Thank you.” Nick’s breathing grew easier, his mind clearer. “We should rest.”

  He thought he might be able to rest with some peace.

  At the far end of the porch, a handful of beach chairs rested against the rail. Nick pulled one out of the stack and set it up. “Why don’t you stretch out on the swing and get some rest if you can. I’ll sit here to give you some privacy.”

  “But you’ll be uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll be just fine.” He propped his feet on the railing and leaned back in the canvas chair.

  The swing creaked. Kristen would have to curl up a bit to fit on the seat, but she might be able to rest.

  He glanced toward the swing, where Kristen lay still and quiet, her breathing even, and restlessness took over his body once more. He rose and began to walk around the tiny house. In the back, he found a driveway cutting through the trees. That would take them to the highway. What they would do once there he wasn’t sure. Kristen’s idea of collecting money from her father and heading for Canada was not a good one. He respected her reasons for the action, but he knew the action wouldn’t keep her safe from a man like Kirkpatrick.

  They needed to stop him.

  Nick inhaled the freshness of the forest and earth washed clean from the rain and came up with one idea to which Kristen might agree.

  He returned to find her on the porch steps, her arms crossed over her middle.

  “I thought you left me here,” she said.

  “Reconnoitering. Did you sleep?”

  “I think so, for a few minutes anyway. You?”

  “No.” He held up his hand in the “stop” gesture. “It’s all right. I think we should go to my family’s lake house. It’s not that far from here with a little transportation.”

  “Won’t someone look for us there?”

  “Probably. But it’s my territory. I know every nook and cranny of those woods, where to hide and how to protect you there.”

  “Or just bring an end to this. I have to bring an end to this.”

  “We’ll figure out something.”

  “I think I already have.”

  Nick tried not to groan. She might work with people who were victims of horrible crimes, yet sometimes she seemed so naïve. Sheltered. Endearing and, in this situation, dangerous.

  “You can tell me all about your plan on the way to town.” He tried not to sound patronizing.

  “Oh, town. Restaurants.” She rubbed her stomach. “I’m starving. As soon as I have money, I’m buying breakfast.”

  “You know you’re a sitting duck in town?” Nick said.

  “I do.” She descended the steps and approached him, her head high, her ponytail a tangled flag behind her. “I was thinking while I was lying here. I can’t spend weeks, maybe even months or years, running. I don’t need much, and coffee and a hot shower every morning make even the hardest days bearable. To sleep outside and wake to no water is just unthinkable.”

  “So you’ll go into a safehouse?”

  “No, I’m going to see about ending this cat-and-mouse chase.”

  “Kristen...”

  “And the only way to catch Kirkpatrick is to draw him out. And the best way to draw him out is to be bait.”

  TWELVE

  Kristen knew what Nick would say before his protest rang through the clearing. “No way. I won’t let you.”

  “You can’t stop me.”

  “I can with one phone call.”

  Of course he could. He might be on administrative leave from his job, but he would win brownie points if he turned her in. He would win more if he turned in Kirkpatrick, but that was another matter.

  “I want you to make that phone call.” Kristen spoke with confidence. She had never felt so sure of herself in her life. “I want you to call the marshals who also want to find me, but not until I do a few things myself.”

  “Such as?” Nick stepped in front of her, arms crossed over his impressive chest.

  “Phone calls.”

  “To?”

  She shrugged. “The media.”

  Nick’s boss.

  “You can’t put yourself in danger,” Nick protested further.

  “I’m already in danger. What’s a little more matter?”

  “It all matters.”

  “How far is it to town?”

  “A mile.” Nick looked bemused, or maybe just fatigued. “And we have hours until the bank opens. We better take our time. Keeping a low profile in town isn’t going to be easy.”

  “You’re the expert.”

  Nick huffed out a breath. “Not expert enough to know how to talk you out of doing something really dangerous and therefore stupid. But I have a couple of hours left to try.”

  Kristen tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and let him lead her down the driveway of the tiny house. The only creatures that seemed to be awake were the birds. They flitted back and forth, calling to one another and gathering their breakfasts. Kristen longed for hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke and enjoyed a cup of hot coffee with too much cream in it, along with a bagel or muffin, something to get her going. Bacon and pancakes came later in the morning for her. Lots of syrup and fresh fruit.

  She nearly groaned aloud.

  “What’s up?” Nick asked.

  “Nothing new. Why do you ask?”

  “You were just clutching my arm like you need it to stand upright.”

  “Sorry.” She started to draw her hand away.

  “Don’t.” He covered it with his, holding it in place against the muscles of his forearm. “I was afraid you were hurting, or hoping maybe you changed your mind.”

  “My feet hurt and my legs ache, but mostly my stomach is thinking about things like bacon and pancakes.”

  “Sorry I asked.” He did groan, and they laughed.

  Through all they had endured, not knowing what was going to happen in the next two hours, or the next two minutes for that matter, they could still find something to laugh about together.

  He was a good man to go through the storm with. If only he weren’t in law enforcement, she reminded herself. Yet, for some reason, the admonition not to care about a man who might have to put his career in front of her at times, who admitted he had done so for his deceased fiancée, held far less conviction than it had. The quality of the man and the strength of the bond came before any job or dinner.

  But they didn’t have a bond. He still grieved Michele, even if the guilt over her death was lessening. Any moment, they could be ripped apart and pulled in different directions. Caring was dangerous.

  Not as dangerous as making herself a target for Kirkpatrick. Yet she was already a target for him. She
may as well do it on her terms when she had a chance to end the matter once and for all, a chance to ensure the safety of his daughter and herself and those Kristen cared about.

  Like her parents, friends, Nick. She had endangered her mother. She must not endanger Nick more than she already had.

  Beside her, apparently lost in his own thoughts, Nick halted. Kristen followed his gaze to where the road they traversed led onto the highway. They couldn’t reach town any other way but to walk along the main road. Anyone who knew to look for them might be driving along that road. Kirkpatrick could cruise past, or one of his men could spot them.

  “We have to risk it to get your money,” Nick said.

  “Then let’s not dawdle.”

  Nick laughed. “Did you just use the word dawdle?”

  “What’s wrong with it? It means to delay, which is what we’re doing.”

  “I know, but I haven’t heard anyone use that word since my grandmother passed away. She liked dawdle and dillydally.”

  “Not shilly-shally?”

  And they were laughing again.

  “I think we’re getting hysterical with fatigue and hunger,” Nick said, rubbing his wrist across his eyes, then down his cheek. “I haven’t shaved in days, either. I must look like a caveman.”

  “I feel like something the cat dragged in and rejected.” She tugged at her once again hopelessly tangled ponytail. “They may not even let me in the bank to get my money.”

  “How will you get it without an ID?”

  “Secret questions. My father will have instructed them to ask me specific questions to which only I am likely to know the answer, such as the color of the car he bought me when I turned seventeen and got my license.”

  “Which was?”

  “Lake blue.”

  “Like your eyes.” His tone held such tenderness Kristen forgot to breathe until she stumbled over her flip-flops and gasped when her sore heel came down hard on a rock.

  Nick stopped.

  So did a vehicle on the other side of the highway, a dark SUV. Kristen forgot about her foot and glanced toward the monstrous vehicle. “That looks like the one that drove me off the road.”

  “Get behind me.” Nick turned so he was between Kristen and the SUV.

  The SUV didn’t move. Kristen and Nick didn’t move. No other vehicles cruised along the highway.

  “What’s stopping them?” Kristen felt a bubble rising in her throat like she might scream.

  “I think it’s just one man. Hard to tell. The windows are tinted darker than the legal limit.”

  “Or someone could be below the window line.”

  “Either way, they’re probably trying to assess whether or not I’m armed.”

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  “I am, thanks to Dillon.”

  She shuddered. “Then let’s get going and see what they do. If I stand here any longer, I’m going to start screaming like I’m having a temper tantrum.”

  “That sounds charming.” Nick resumed walking, watching the SUV start rolling forward, creeping along to match their pace.

  “This is making my skin crawl,” Kristen admitted.

  “I don’t exactly feel good about it either. Hold on.”

  At the rumble of a semi engine approaching from the north, Nick edged Kristen off the berm and into the trees. The monstrous tractor-trailer seemed to barrel toward them, then plowed past, its giant tires kicking up stones and shedding exhaust like a toxic cloud. By the time it muscled its way past them, the SUV had disappeared up the road.

  Kristen didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. She wasn’t ready for a showdown, not having a plan fully in place yet. On the other hand, she yearned for the whole thing to be done with sooner than later.

  Signs of civilization came into view, a gas station first, a restaurant, a church. Sidewalks appeared in front of houses. Then what must pass as the downtown area opened up with restaurants, stores carrying kitschy tourist stuff and serious camping gear, and the bank. The all-important bank.

  “I think,” Nick said, “we should look for another church near the downtown. Churches are good places to retreat and reconnoiter.”

  “And pray,” Kristen murmured.

  “That too.”

  A spire rose above the commercial properties, white against the blue sky. Kristen headed for it, but Nick paused at a newspaper box on the sidewalk, his face white.

  “What?” Kristen turned to read the headline visible through the window and felt the world spinning out of control, the sidewalk coming up to meet her.

  “Federal Judge Still in Hands of Kidnappers”

  “Daughter Still Presumed Involved”

  * * *

  Suppressing the rage bubbling inside him, Nick lifted Kristen to a sitting position. Her eyes opened and she dropped her head to her drawn-up knees.

  “Someone is lying to us. Is my mother all right, or is she still kidnapped?” She moaned.

  “I know.” Nick spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought it strange Kirkpatrick would let his men turn her over that easily. She’s too good a pawn. But they probably thought you’d be more likely to come in if you thought your mom was safe and wanted you to.”

  “My dad didn’t even know. He—” She stopped and glared up at Nick, though he understood the anger wasn’t directed at him. “He didn’t say anything about her. He just said he was on his way home.” Tears flooded her eyes. “Everyone is still trying to protect me. I wish—”

  Beside Nick, a door opened. “Is she all right?” asked a woman of about fifty, with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “She had a shock,” Nick said.

  “I’ll be all right.” Kristen kept her head down.

  It was a good precaution, though probably unnecessary. The only picture the paper had of her was attending some charity garden party with her mother. They looked like sisters in their complementary summer dresses and broad-brimmed hats shading their faces.

  The woman’s dark eyes narrowed. “You two don’t look all right. Were you in an accident?”

  “We were robbed.” Nick felt he spoke the truth.

  “That’s terrible. Do you need me to call the sheriff for you?” The woman glanced inside the store, which Nick now realized was actually a restaurant not yet open.

  “The law already knows.” Nick spoke the truth again, strictly speaking.

  “Then why don’t you come in and have some breakfast?” The woman opened the door wider. “You look like you could use a good meal.”

  “We could,” Nick said, “but we don’t have any money until the bank opens.”

  The woman waved off that concern. “Never mind. If I can’t provide a couple of free meals to folks who need it now and then, I shouldn’t be in business anymore. I’m Susan, by the way.” She moved aside so they could enter.

  Nick helped Kristen to her feet and followed her and Susan into the restaurant. “This is kind of you, but you’re not open yet.”

  “I open at eight o’clock and it’s seven now. My cook will be here in half an hour, but I’m capable of cooking bacon and eggs, or pancakes if you like.”

  In the next half hour, she proved just that. She provided them with fresh, hot coffee and orange juice, then proceeded to present them with a feast of bacon, eggs and pancakes perfectly turned out and savory. They ate until they were full, speaking little, feeling safe tucked into a back booth where no one could see them through the windows.

  “Just stay here as long as you need to,” Susan said as she refilled their coffee cups. “We’re not that busy on weekdays.”

  They sat sipping the rich brew and made plans, while the restaurant opened and began to fill with hungry patrons. Knowing he couldn’t talk Kristen out of her decision, especially now she knew the Marshals Service had lied to her about her mothe
r, Nick decided to join her.

  “You know this won’t guarantee they free your mother,” he pointed out.

  “I know nothing is guaranteed. My mother called the marshals as soon as she knew we were in trouble, and that didn’t guarantee we were rescued. You said the plan for getting her back when they claimed they would exchange her for me wasn’t guaranteed.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “We need to have faith we will be taken care of and take what action we can.”

  He gazed into her beautiful eyes. “I just don’t think I could bear losing another lady in my life.”

  That was as much as he was willing to say at that moment, a half confession that he considered her in his life and wanted her to remain. He didn’t like to think of the bleakness of waking to a day knowing she wouldn’t be a part of it.

  “Then let’s get this over with.” He pushed back his coffee cup, breakfast a hard lump in his middle, and rose.

  Kristen slid out of her side of the booth and waved to Susan filling coffee carafes on the other side of the dining room. Nick gave her a nod of acknowledgment of her kindness and generosity toward them. The meal had cleared his head more than he thought possible without sleep.

  Scanning the street for anyone who looked as though he didn’t belong in a tourist town, Nick slipped his fingers through Kristen’s and walked with her to the bank. The time was one minute after nine o’clock and someone was raising the iron gate that covered window and doors at night. In seconds, they would be inside and Kristen would obtain money her father had wired to her. After that, Nick would have a difficult time stopping her from her dangerous plans to lure Kirkpatrick to her.

  Dangerous because he didn’t know how he could help her. His training involved teamwork, strategy, weapons. Their only strategy was Kristen’s. They had become a team these past few days, yet she didn’t want to work with him unless he went along with her.

  A bank employee must have seen them lingering outside, for she approached the door and asked them if they had business. When Kristen said she did, the woman gave her a speculative glance from head to toe, but she opened the door wider and motioned her inside.