by Rita Herron
“He is,” Hilary spoke up again. “Don’t get me wrong,” Hilary said. “My heart goes out to Cora. I tried to be her friend after the kidnapping, but she pushed me away. Then she had a breakdown.” Hilary toyed with the diamond dangling from a gold chain around her neck. “One time she chased another mother at the mall and nearly snatched her child from her baby stroller.”
Jacob gritted his teeth. Unfortunately, he had heard similar rumors.
“One of our friends was with her, and tried to convince her to leave the woman alone. Cora started screaming, and security came and had to escort her out of the mall.”
“Hilary,” Drew chided in a low voice.
“Well, it’s true,” Hilary said. “For heaven’s sake, she drove all her friends away.”
Jacob’s protective instincts for Cora rose to the surface. Cora had gotten under his skin five years ago when he’d first met her. The two of them had been in shock and devastated over their individual losses. “Everyone deals with stress and traumatic events in their own way.”
“Maybe so,” Hilary conceded. “But poor Cora was obsessed. If that PI decided to give up, no telling what Cora would do.”
“I’ve already talked to Cora,” Jacob said. “I don’t believe she’d hurt him.”
Hilary started to speak again, but Drew laid his hand on his wife’s arm. “Hilary, that’s enough. This has been stressful on all of us.”
Hilary offered her husband a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Drew. Of course you’re right.” She turned to Jacob. “I apologize, Sheriff. I didn’t mean to speak ill of Cora. I really want her to find some peace. If I lost our little boy, I’d probably break down, too.”
“There’s something else,” Jacob said, knowing the couple wouldn’t like his questions, but he had to ask. “Mr. Westbrook, Cora remembers hearing you talking to a woman outside the hospital room before the fire started. Whom were you talking to?”
Confusion marred the man’s face. “I...don’t remember. Probably the nurse.”
Jacob tilted his head toward Hilary. “I understand you worked with Drew prior to his divorce.”
Hilary shifted. “I did. I was his administrative assistant.”
He turned back to Drew. “Mr. Westbrook, I know you were stressed about the baby and your job, and that you were working late hours.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I was new at the firm and trying to impress the partners.”
“Was that all there was to those nights?” Jacob asked. “Or were you having an affair?”
* * *
JACOB’S QUESTIONS ABOUT Drew taunted Cora as she stopped by the arts and crafts store on the way back to her house. Had Drew cheated on her?
The first few days and weeks after the kidnapping were a blur. Drew had seemed sincerely upset about Alice.
He could have had an affair and still been upset over the kidnapping. But if he was seeing another woman and wanted out of their marriage, and had been involved in Alice’s disappearance, maybe he’d faked his reaction.
Tormented by the idea that he would betray her, her lungs strained for air. She practiced deep breathing for a few minutes in the car to steady her nerves, then went inside the store.
She needed more art paper, another sketchbook for her drawings, paints and a couple of canvases.
With time on her hands in the summer, she typically enjoyed working on art projects. Anything to distract her from obsessing over Alice.
Anything to help her hold on to her sanity.
There had been a time when she’d considered taking her own life, when living had been so painful that she could barely get out of bed. But the idea of Alice searching for her when she got older, then discovering her mother had killed herself forced Cora to banish that thought from her head.
If—no, when—she found her daughter, she wanted Alice to know she was strong and that she’d never given up looking for her.
On the off chance that Faye and Nina actually visited her someday, she picked up a small art set for children she thought Nina would enjoy. The kit included color pencils, crayons, paints, markers and charcoal.
Her heart stuttered at the image of Nina opening the set and pulling out the supplies.
Stop it, she chided herself. Faye had been cordial, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be friends.
She paid for the supplies, carried them to her car, then drove through town. In spite of the dark clouds above, mothers and children were at the park, triggering another wave of longing.
She checked for Jacob’s SUV as she passed the sheriff’s office but didn’t see it, so she headed home. A few raindrops began to splatter against her window. She flipped on the windshield wipers and slowed as she rounded a curve.
The sound of a car engine rumbled behind her, and she remembered thinking she was being followed earlier. Instinctively she slowed and turned into the first drive she saw, then waited until the car moved on.
Breathing out in relief, she backed up, then sped toward her house. But just as she rounded another curve near the turnoff for the river park, a popping sound echoed, then the glass window on the passenger side suddenly shattered.
Another pop and Cora screamed as a bullet zoomed by her head.
She quickly ducked, but her car skidded toward the embankment. She swerved to the right and braked, but her tires squealed and she slammed into the guardrail. Metal clanged and screeched, and her car nose-dived into the ditch.
She tried to brace herself for the impact, but her head snapped back, more glass shattered and she was thrown forward. The airbag exploded, slamming into her, and pain ricocheted through her chest.
Then stars swam behind her eyes as darkness swallowed her.
* * *
JACOB STUDIED WESTBROOK’S REACTION.
The lawyer fisted his hands on his chair arms. “I most certainly was not having an affair. I never cheated on Cora, and I resent the implication.”
“Is that what she told you?” Hilary screeched.
Jacob shook his head. “No, but under the circumstances I had to ask.”
“We went through all this when Alice was first kidnapped.” Drew stood and gestured toward the door. “I was treated like a suspect then, and I get the distinct feeling the same thing is happening now. If you have more questions, Sheriff, go through my attorney.”
Jacob stood and adjusted his holster. “I can do that if necessary. But if you want to find your daughter, you’ll cooperate.”
“I have cooperated and told you everything I know.” Drew headed toward the entry, and Jacob followed. “If that private investigator was killed because he uncovered information about my daughter, I want to know.”
Drew was definitely sending out mixed messages. One moment he genuinely seemed to care about Cora and finding Alice.
The next second, he was lawyering up. The timing of his success seemed suspicious, too. Thanks to media coverage, he’d vaulted to the top of his career in record time after the kidnapping. He’d married within a year after he and Cora separated and had another child.
He also had access to any number of criminals who would kill for him for money or in exchange for a better deal in court.
Jacob stood on the steps to the house for a minute after Drew closed the door, listening for the couple’s voices in case they argued, but he didn’t hear them.
He jogged down the steps, climbed in his SUV and decided to stop by Liam’s office before heading back to Whistler. He called Griff on the way.
“Any word on the computer you retrieved from Philips’s office?” he asked gruffly.
“The analyst is working on retrieving files. He thinks he might have something by tomorrow.”
“Good.” Jacob relayed his conversation with the Westbrooks. “If the PI found a lead about the Reeves-Westbrook baby kidnapping, we need to know what it was.”
“Which means the fire wasn’t a setup for the kidnapping?”
“Right,” Griff admitted. “We have to explore every angle. True arsonists are thrill seekers who enjoy the thrill of the fire and the chaos that follows.”
Jacob gritted his teeth as he hung up. He’d never understand how anyone took pleasure in another person’s pain. But Griff was right.
If the hospital fire was caused by a thrill seeker, whoever took Cora’s baby may have done so on the spur of the moment, a crime of opportunity. That would also explain why there was never a ransom note or they hadn’t found anyone lurking by the nursery watching the newborns prior to the fire.
He stewed over that as he drove to the FBI headquarters. He and Liam spent another hour reviewing security tapes again. Liam pointed out two baby kidnappings he suspected were related to a kidnapping ring.
Finally Jacob headed back to Whistler, the miles clicking away. The temptation to stop by Cora’s struck him, but he ordered himself to drive home.
He could not get personally involved with Cora. She was vulnerable and needed answers, not for him to get romantically involved with her. Not that she would be interested...
He turned onto Main Street when his phone buzzed. His deputy. He immediately connected.
“Jacob, it’s Martin. A 911 call just came in. There was a wreck on Route 9, a red Ford Escape.”
Jacob’s blood ran cold. Cora drove a red Ford Escape.
Chapter Nine
Jacob pressed the accelerator. Cora had been in an accident.
Dear God, let her be all right.
He swung the police SUV around, flipped his siren on and sped toward Route 9. Thankfully traffic was minimal. Another plus to living in a small town—people actually paid attention when he appeared and pulled over to let him pass. His heart pounded with fear as he rounded a curve and spotted the guardrail dented and skid marks on the pavement where Cora had careened off the road.
Emergency workers hadn’t arrived yet, and he willed them to hurry as he pulled to the side of the road and jumped out. The front of Cora’s SUV was in the ditch, smoke billowing from the rear.
He jumped over the guardrail, his boots skidding in the dirt, gravel and rocks flying as he rushed down the incline. His heart hammered at the sight of the shattered driver’s window.
The acrid smell of smoke hit him as it seeped from the rear of the car.
A reminder he had to hurry.
He peered inside the window. The airbag had deployed. He pulled his knife from his pocket and tried to open the door, but the corner was stuck in the ditch.
Dammit.
“Cora,” he shouted. “Honey, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Fear pulsed through him. He ran back to his SUV, grabbed a shovel from the trunk and flew back down the hill to the car. He dug dirt from the door then pried it open it so he could reach Cora. With a quick jab of his knife, he ripped the airbag.
Cora moaned. Thank God she was alive. “Hang in there, Cora. Rescue workers are on their way.”
A siren wailed, and he stroked her shoulder, hoping she could hear him as he murmured reassurances. He didn’t dare move her until the medics arrived.
The siren grew louder, then tires screeched. He glanced up the hill. An ambulance and fire engine roared to a stop. Jacob waved the workers down the hill.
“What do we have?” one of the firemen asked.
“Woman, driver, name is Cora Reeves. Airbag deployed. She’s unconscious but alive.”
Jacob leaned into the car. “Cora, the medics are here.”
She moaned softly and started to lift her head. “Stay still, ma’am,” one of the medics said. “We’ll have you out in a minute.”
She murmured “Okay,” and Jacob stepped aside while emergency workers cut Cora’s seat belt, then braced her neck before easing her from the vehicle and boarding her. He followed them up the hill to the ambulance and stood beside her while the medic called the hospital.
Jacob cradled her hand in his, disturbed at her ice-cold skin. “Cora?”
She blinked and opened her eyes, squinting as if her head hurt. “Jacob—”
“Shh, it’s all right. You had a car accident, but you’ll be fine.” At least he hoped to hell she would.
“Not...accident,” she said in a raw whisper.
“Yes, you had an accident and ran off the road,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “No...no accident.”
Jacob froze. “What do you mean, no accident?”
She swallowed as if her voice wouldn’t quite work.
“Cora?”
“Someone...shot at me.”
Jacob’s blood turned to ice. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Hit window...”
He muttered a silent curse.
The medic cleared his throat. “We’re ready to transport her.”
Jacob squeezed Cora’s hand. “Did you see who it was?”
She shook her head.
“We really need to go,” the medic said.
Jacob thumbed a strand of hair from Cora’s cheek. “I’ll see you at the hospital. I’m going to take a look at your car.”
Cora’s eyes drifted closed as they loaded her into the ambulance.
Jacob hurried to his SUV and retrieved his evidence kit, then raced back down the hill to comb the car and area for forensics.
* * *
CORA’S HEAD WAS still swimming as the medics pushed her into the ER. On the drive to the hospital, she’d tested her limbs and was grateful she could move her legs. She didn’t think anything was broken, either.
Thank heavens for the airbag. It had probably saved her life.
The attending physician conducted a preliminary exam. “Everything looks clear,” Dr. Pattinson told her. “I’m ordering chest X-rays to look for broken ribs and a CAT scan in case you have a concussion.”
Cora hated hospitals. The last time she was admitted was when her daughter was stolen.
“Can I go home after that?” Cora asked.
“Let’s see how the tests turn out,” he said. “We might keep you here for observation overnight.”
The image of flames and smoke taunted her. She couldn’t stay here tonight. “No, I have to go home,” Cora said.
The memory of the bullet whizzing by her head flashed behind her eyes as a technician rolled her to the imaging center.
She was lucky to be alive. But fear tightened every muscle in her body.
Someone had tried to kill her. And she wanted to know the reason why.
* * *
DAYLIGHT WAS WANING. The dark clouds robbed any remaining sunlight, casting the area in gray. Jacob tugged on latex gloves and used a flashlight to examine the car, starting with the shattered windows.
Glass littered the interior of the front seat and floor. A bullet hole made him curse. Cora was right. This was no accident.
He snapped photographs with his phone, then opened the passenger door and shined the light inside in search of a bullet casing.
He walked the area, looking at the vehicle from all angles to estimate the trajectory of the bullet and the shooter’s origin.
Judging from the evidence, the bullet had come from the passenger side.
He searched the floorboard and found a partial casing amongst the shattered glass. Next he moved to the driver’s side and examined that window. Evidence of another bullet skimming the glass indicated it had traveled through the passenger window and across the car, close to Cora’s head. He shined the light ac
ross the interior of the door, the ceiling and roof and spotted the bullet lodged in the roof where it met the window casing. Cursing, he used his knife to dig it out and bagged it with the other casing.
Anger railed through him. Except for frightening a few nervous mothers over the years, Cora had never hurt anyone in her life.
But she had been relentless in pushing to keep her case on police radar. And then she’d hired that PI.
Which pointed to a motive. Someone was afraid Cora was about to uncover the truth about the kidnapping.
And that person—the kidnapper—was close by.
Maybe even in Whistler.
He or she was watching Cora.
Jacob turned and scanned the area. Thick woods backed up to the ditch where the shooter could have hidden. The shooter could have been in another car, though, waiting until just the right moment to open fire.
Perspiration beaded on the back of his neck as adrenaline kicked in. He grabbed his phone, called his deputy to explain the situation and asked Martin to meet him at the scene.
When he hung up, Jacob combed the ground in case the shooter had snuck up to the car while Cora was unconscious. He shined his flashlight across the ground and embankment looking for footprints, a piece of clothing that might have snagged on a twig, a button, cigarette, anything that might point to the shooter’s identity.
But the only footprints he found were his own. No clothing or anything that might have belonged to the shooter.
A few minutes later, Martin drove up and met him by the car. “Search the woods for forensics in case the perp parked and hid behind the trees before or after he ambushed Cora.” He handed the bullet casings to his deputy to courier to the lab just as the tow truck arrived. “Before they move the car, see if you find prints on the door. Mine will be there and Cora’s, but it’s possible the perp slipped up to see if Cora was alive.”
“Copy that,” his deputy said.
“Who made the 911 call?” Jacob asked.