by Dana R. Lynn
Well, that was something to be grateful for. As much as he wished the intruder had been caught, it was good to know that he could focus on one person without putting the other in danger. He turned and caught sight of Irene.
Her arms were crossed and her foot was tapping the floor. She was the very picture of impatience, possibly irritation. Being told that she couldn’t go check up on a crying child had to go against the grain. But the baby was in good hands and didn’t seem to be hysterical, even though he could still hear her fussing.
“I’m going to go talk with Sergeant Zee,” he informed her, ignoring the storm clouds gathering on her brow. “Do me a favor, will you? Stay here until I get back. You can be my go-between if the paramedic needs anything.”
He waited for her agreement. It was slow in coming, but he couldn’t leave without knowing she’d remain where she was. She nodded, reluctance stamped all over her pretty features. That didn’t matter. As long as she was safe, he could deal with whatever annoyance she was feeling.
* * *
Irene stood, indecision cluttering her mind. On the one hand, Paul had told her specifically to stay here. And it wasn’t like she was needed upstairs at the minute. The paramedic was with Mary. And the little girl was making normal babbling noises. Plus, the attacker had scampered over the fence. So there was no need to be anxious.
But she was. Despite telling herself not to be silly, she couldn’t stop the tremors that reverberated deep in her soul and made her stomach queasy. It was like being behind the wheel of a race car zooming out of control and off the track and then discovering that the brakes have failed. She knew she wanted the horror to stop and was powerless to make it happen. And that powerlessness tore at her whenever she heard anything that sounded like it could be a whimper coming from Mary upstairs while she was stuck down here, unable to do anything to help.
Irene didn’t like feeling she wasn’t in control. She’d been that way for months after Tony had died. And when she had gotten her life to where she felt it was manageable again, she had promised herself that never again would she allow herself to be in a situation where she felt so inadequate. So weak.
Like she was now.
Shaking her head fiercely, she tried to ward off the dismal thoughts. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help. She tapped the glass door. It was a heavy glass. It must have been soundproof, too. She was only a few feet away from the group outside on the deck, but she couldn’t hear a word they were saying. Paul was talking now. She could see his lips moving. If she inched open the door, she’d be sure to hear his deep voice. She liked the way he talked, in that slow, comforting drawl. What was the word she was searching for? Smooth. That was it.
Smooth as hot fudge over vanilla ice cream, a friend had once described it. Irene rolled her eyes at the memory.
Thump.
Irene startled, her eyes shooting to the ceiling. Something had fallen. Something heavy. Mary was up there. No, Mary wouldn’t make a crash like that. And she was in her crib.
Remembering how Matthew had managed to climb out of his crib at fifteen months, Irene wasn’t reassured.
She didn’t need to worry. There was a paramedic up there with her.
A second later, Mary started crying.
That wasn’t a cry. That was a more a scream...of terror.
Forgetting her promise to Paul, Irene shot up the stairs without any thought to the possible danger. The sound of her steps was drowned out by Mary’s howls. There was a baby upstairs who was hurt, terrified or both.
Irene reached the top of the stairs and pivoted to the right, toward the shrieks. And nearly stumbled over the body of the paramedic.
She very nearly lost her lunch right then and there. She didn’t need a medical degree to know the man was dead. There was a hole in the middle of his forehead, and his eyes were staring straight ahead. She hadn’t heard a gun, but she knew about silencers. She’d just never seen one—or the effects of one—up close before.
Paul. She needed Paul.
Mary shrieked again. Hysterical.
“Shut your mouth, brat,” an angry voice growled. “Or I will do it for you. I ain’t got time for this.”
No time for Irene to get Paul. Mary could be dead, injured or gone before he arrived. Irene crept to the door of the room, eyes searching for a weapon the whole time. She passed another room with an open door. It was a bedroom, with a vase full of roses on the nightstand. She grabbed the vase. It was long and slender, shaped like a tube. She picked it up. It was heavy. Probably lead crystal. That would work. She didn’t have the luxury of searching for the bathroom to empty it, so she dumped the roses and water in a soggy gush onto the carpet. She grimaced and mentally apologized to Zee, but she had no choice.
Whirling out into the hall, she saw a man heading the opposite direction carrying a straining Mary, her little mouth taped shut. Tears were pouring from her devastated eyes.
It was a man she’d probably have nightmares about for the rest of her life. Black Beard.
“Hey!”
Black Beard jerked back as if scalded. His shock didn’t last long. He swung in Irene’s direction. Recognition flared in his dark eyes. His beard parted in the most hideous grin. It was filled with triumph. Irene realized she’d just given him the other thing he wanted aside from Mary—her.
Dropping the struggling toddler onto the floor beside him, the man surged toward Irene with a roar, huge arms open to grab her. Mary sat up, her little hands moving to the tape on her face. Irene pulled back from the man, but he still managed to grab a handful of her jacket. With a fierce yank, she pulled the slippery material from his meaty hands. He growled. Lunged again.
Acting on instinct, Irene tightened her fist around the vase. With a heave, she swung her arm around, slamming the side of the lead-crystal vase into the side of Black Beard’s head with a satisfying clunk. The vase hit the floor. He staggered. Shook his head.
Irene hoped he’d stay distracted long enough for her to grab Mary and escape. She darted around him, putting herself between the toddler and her kidnapper. The child’s small arms reached out for Irene. Unfortunately, Black Beard didn’t remain stunned for long. Whirling, he fixed his eyes back on Irene.
Rage distorted his features.
Now what? She was literally stuck in the middle with nowhere to run.
“Irene!”
It was Paul! He must be looking for her.
The man whipped his gaze toward the stairs. He reached back and pulled a gun with a silencer on it from his waistband.
“He has a gun!” she shouted in warning. Grabbing Mary, Irene rushed back into the bedroom and slammed the door, locking it. Then she dove to the other side of the room, the weeping child still in her grip, seeking shelter.
And not a moment too soon. The lock of the door splintered, great chunks of the wood blowing inward. Black Beard had shot out the lock.
“Police! Surrender your weapon!”
Paul. Oh, Lord. Please keep him safe.
The prayer came out naturally. Because she knew only God could help.
Several more explosions in the hall. Gunfire. Then more crashes.
It wasn’t until Mary patted her face that Irene realized she was weeping. For whom she didn’t know. Mary? Paul? The paramedic? Maybe even herself. Or all of them. All she did know was that she was desperate to see if Paul was safe. But she knew she couldn’t leave Mary alone. Mary. The sweet baby still had a piece of tape over her mouth, although she had worked it off enough so that she could breathe. Irene pulled it off the rest of the way, trying to be gentle.
Hugging the child close, Irene waited, her mouth dry. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. It was torture not knowing what was coming. The sound of running feet pounded past the door. But not toward the stairs, like she would have expected.
&n
bsp; Her breathing sounded like a freight train to her own ears in the silence. She’d never really thought of silence as loud before. Now she longed to hear something to tell her that Paul had survived.
“Chief!”
“Up here, Thompson.”
The sound of Paul’s voice sent a flood of relief through her. Her spine went soft, and she wilted against the wall, bringing Mary with her. The baby laid her unbonneted head against Irene’s chest, sticking her thumb into her mouth and gently sucking.
“Irene? Irene!” Paul called, his voice frantic.
“We’re fine,” she yelled back. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
She half expected him to charge through the door, but then she heard another pair of feet stomping up the stairs.
“Is that...?”
“Yeah. He’s dead. The intruder shot him point-blank, looks like.”
They must be talking about the murdered paramedic. Irene felt sorrow for the man, wondering if he left a wife behind, or children. She knew all too well the suffering that they would go through.
“What about Jace’s sister? And the kid?”
“She’s fine. Said she’d be right out.” His voice was calm, but she detected a slight edge to it. He was concerned. She needed to move.
Bracing herself with the wall, she stood. When she tried to set Mary down briefly, the child wound her chubby arms around her neck, burying her wet face into Irene’s shoulder.
“Okay, then. I guess I won’t put you down. Come on, Mary. Let’s go.”
Irene took one step. Paul pushed the busted door open. His skin had an ashen cast to it. At first, she thought he’d been hurt, after all. When he strode forward and pulled her and the child into his arms, she realized he’d been as concerned about her as she had been for him.
Strangely, Mary made no fuss in his embrace. Maybe because Irene was still holding her.
“Are you two really okay?” Paul pulled away, his gaze roaming over them.
“Fine. More scared than anything.”
“I had no idea you were in trouble until I came inside and you were gone. Then I heard a crash.”
She nodded. “He had shot the paramedic. But he must have used a silencer. And he taped Mary’s mouth shut. Did you shoot him?”
She shuddered. She didn’t think she could stand seeing one more dead body in the hallway. She was pretty sure she’d collapse into hysterics before the day was through.
Paul shook his head. “No. He ran into the room at the end of the hall and slammed the door. When I got in there, he’d already climbed out the window and down the ladder leaning against the side of the house. I imagine that’s how he got in. I think the other guy was supposed to be the lookout while he got Mary.”
It made sense.
“I’m taking her home with me.”
She waited for the argument. It never came.
“Probably a good idea. And we’ll keep a strong detail on your house. Which means that until further notice, you will have someone with you at all times. In the next day or so, we’ll take Mary into Spartansburg and start searching for her family.”
Relieved that he hadn’t tried to dissuade her, she merely nodded.
“Irene...” She looked up, her relief fading at his drawn features. His voice held no trace of its usual drawl. “I don’t have to tell you that this isn’t over. We know for a fact that there are now two people, at least, after Mary. And they also want you out of the picture. Probably because you are the only real witness. We haven’t been able to get a good description of the man who went after Zee. And the second man, the one with the beard? We still haven’t identified him. As far as we can tell, he isn’t in our database. We have nothing on him. I suspect he’s going to want to keep it that way. And he’s willing to kill to make it happen.”
SEVEN
The next morning, Irene checked on Mary in the crib that she’d asked Paul to bring down from the attic. It was a school day, so her boys were both up. In fact, the two rascals peeped over the edge of the crib, fascinated. It amused her. It wasn’t as if they’d never seen a baby girl before. They hung out with their cousin Ellie all the time. And Lieutenant Willis’s wife, Maggie, often brought her twins over to play when the women got together.
Maybe it was because the poor thing was away from her mother. Or maybe it was because Irene was acting like her mother until the little girl’s family was found. Either way, they were drawn to her.
“Mommy,” AJ whispered, “are her mommy and daddy with my daddy?”
She froze. She hadn’t allowed her mind to go there. All at once, emotion swamped her. “I don’t know sweetie. I don’t think so. But Chief Paul and I are going to find out.”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the sleeping girl.
Irene hustled her boys out of the room, but didn’t close the door. She wanted to know if Mary woke up, and she didn’t have a baby monitor anymore. The boys got dressed and ate their breakfast. She waved at them as they hurried to get on the bus. Deeper in the house, she could hear Paul’s voice. She’d let him in right before checking on Mary. Was he on the phone? In the kitchen, she found Paul talking quietly to Seth Travis—Maggie’s half brother. He was a good friend to most of the police department. He was also a paramedic. She heard the words “funeral” and “widow” and cringed. They were talking about the paramedic who’d been killed. Her heart broke for his family.
Before her thoughts grew too maudlin, she caught sight of two shopping bags Seth was holding. He broke off his conversation with Paul when he noticed her and moved her way.
“Hey, Irene. You okay after your ordeal yesterday?”
She smiled. She’d always liked Seth. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. I’m sorry about your friend.”
He compressed his lips, nodding. “Yeah. Me, too.”
He hefted the bags in her direction, clearly not wanting to linger on the depressing subject. “Jess and I got these from Rebecca, Miles’s fiancée. Her brother collected them for her.” Something Amish, then. Rebecca’s brother was still firmly entrenched in the Amish community, though he remained close to his sister, who had chosen a different life. And since Rebecca was best friends with Jess, Seth’s wife, it made sense that he’d been the one to bring over the package.
“Did she say if anyone had mentioned a missing child?” It would be wonderful if they could find Mary’s family right away.
Her hope was dashed as he slowly shook his head. “No. Sorry. But that doesn’t mean that a family living on the outskirts of town couldn’t have had a child kidnapped. This wasn’t a church week, so there are plenty of families her brother said he hasn’t had contact with in the past week or so.”
Irene recalled hearing that the Amish went to worship services every other Sunday. They didn’t have them in a church, but in community members’ barns.
Taking the bag that Seth offered her, Irene held it open. Inside were several simple dresses like the ones that the Amish children she’d worked with wore. And a few bonnets.
“Tell her thank you. I think it would mean a great deal to Mary’s family.”
Seth nodded in acknowledgment and took his leave. “Jess and I have plans with my family this afternoon.”
In the wake of his departure, she noticed Paul frowning as his dark eyes scanned over her. “What?”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
She was slightly insulted. She wasn’t a weakling. She’d dealt with hardship before, although never what Mary’s family was contending with. It was her duty to help.
“Yes, of course I’m up to it.” She couldn’t help it that her voice came out a little sharp. It stung that he’d doubt her.
Paul stepped closer. She watched his hand raise, mesmerized as he slid the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Irene, I didn’t mean it to
insult you. It’s just that you have been attacked three times now in such a short time.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to remain still, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face, smell the cinnamon gum he’d been chewing. But just a moment. Then she forced herself to step back.
“Right,” he said. Was that disappointment? “Let’s head out. We have a long day ahead of us.”
Irene hurried to rouse Mary, who grumbled but allowed herself to be cleaned up and dressed. One of the dresses fit her perfectly. With care, she braided Mary’s hair and put on her bonnet. She was adorable. And hungry. Mary’s stomach was growling so Irene fed the tiny girl a simple breakfast and got together both a small ice chest with water and snacks to sustain them throughout the day and a backpack to act as a makeshift diaper bag. Was she forgetting anything? It had been several years since she’d needed to do this, and she was out of practice.
As she moved to the kitchen, the phone rang. She paused, apprehension heavy in her gut. Who would call at seven thirty on a Monday morning? Either something bad had happened, or...
Shaking her head as if she could dislodge the notion, she walked over to the phone and looked at the number display. Not a number she knew. She felt a moment of relief that it wasn’t the school or her mother calling to report bad news, but anxiety quickly took its place as the answering machine clicked on and she waited to hear what the caller would say.
Paul stood in the doorway, his face confused. She’d never told him about the calls she’d received the other night. He opened his mouth—most likely to ask why she wasn’t answering her phone. She shook her head.