by Dana R. Lynn
All too soon it was time to go. She suddenly realized how much she was going to miss Mary Ann.
“Can I give her a hug? To say goodbye?”
Mary Ann’s mother nodded and stepped back slightly so Irene could move in closer. Irene squatted near the little girl. “Hey, Mary Ann, I need a hug. Paul and I are going bye-bye.”
Mary Ann put up her tiny arms, and Irene wrapped her in one last hug. As much as she’d miss her, she was at total peace. This was exactly where the precious child belonged.
Irene set her down and looked into her sweet face. “You be good, darling girl.”
When Irene stood, Mary Ann seemed to search for something. Then her arms raised again. “Pow. Pow.”
As long as she lived, she knew she’d never forget the sudden sweetness on his face. Or the way his deep eyes glistened. He copied the posture Irene had used to embrace the child and pulled her into his arms. “Bye, Mary Ann.” Then he moved so they were nose to nose. He whispered, but his words were still audible. “I promised we’d find your mam and dat. Be happy, sweetheart.”
“Pow.” She patted his face.
They returned to the car and started driving back home. The drive was silent. Irene was too wrung out to speak. And worried. Now that they had found Mary Ann’s parents, they only had one more task. And that was to find Billy—before he found her.
Pensive, she sighed. Paul reached out and covered her hand with his. He didn’t say anything, but she was grateful for the comfort. If only she could make her nerves settle down.
Billy Sharps was out there somewhere. And she knew he wasn’t going to give up.
* * *
They still had to find the man targeting Irene. Paul felt as if the stakes had just been raised. Billy had no remaining coconspirators, the money he’d left at the house had been taken as evidence and the children he’d stolen had been returned. His officers had interviewed Eddie. He’d agreed to cooperate in return for a lighter sentence and give the authorities all the information on the families who’d bought the children.
That left Billy to focus his vengeance on Irene. Paul could see her out of his periphery. Tension held her body stiff, her face grim. He had a pretty good idea that Billy was on her mind, too.
They were pulling into a town. He could see a restaurant on the left side. His stomach had grumbled for the past half hour, and he’d seen her rub hers. Making a split-second decision, he pulled into a spot on the street, as close to the streetlight as he could get.
“Come on. We need to stretch our legs. Might as well eat.”
It was an Amish-run restaurant. He grinned in anticipation. No one cooked like Amish women. This would be a treat, even if they still needed to be careful.
Paul requested one of the tables near the window. He made sure that he sat where he could see the car the entire meal. He didn’t want another bomb planted. Or any kind of tracking device. Now that he knew the perp was ex-military, that opened the door to all kinds of modes of attack. He needed to be on his guard.
The food was all homemade, delicious and there was lots of it. They declined dessert, and got up. As they walked to the door, Paul reached out and took hold of Irene’s hand. He had no idea how she’d respond. Pull away? Let her hand stay in his?
She sent him a saucy smile and a tilted eyebrow. That was fine. It was progress.
Outside the restaurant, though, he dropped her hand as they approached the car. He kept her close to the building so he could shield her.
It seemed like forever before they reached the cruiser. Soon he’d be able to relax. Not yet.
A shadow moved.
“Down!”
Paul shoved Irene to the ground and threw himself on top of her. Not a second too soon. The closest vehicle next to theirs—a buggy—exploded, sending waves of heat over them. The wheels flew through the air.
People started screaming. The restaurant patrons streamed out the door in an angry mass. When no further blasts seemed to be coming, Paul sat up carefully. Irene remained where she lay on the ground, coughing weakly. At a quick once-over, she appeared uninjured.
“Irene! Are you okay?” He seemed to be asking that question a lot lately.
“Yeah.” She sat up, dazed, and stared stunned at the burning buggy. “Was anyone in that thing? Where is the horse?”
“I put my horse in the barn out back,” a shaky voice replied.
They looked up to see a middle-aged man, watching his mode of transportation burn before his eyes. Paul stood and faced the crowd, making sure to keep himself between them and Irene. Her back was to the building, so there was little chance that anyone would be able to sneak in behind her.
Irene wilted, leaning back against the bricks. He felt the same way. The destruction was senseless and cruel, but at least everyone had survived—it would have been horrible if any person or horse had been killed in the blast.
“Did anyone see anything? Anyone acting suspicious near the buggy in the past hour, or anyone running after it blew?”
“Ja,” a soft voice replied. “I saw someone.” A young woman wearing a pale dress stepped forward, shivering. Cold? Or fear? She was wearing a coat and gloves, making it likely that she had already been outside before the blast. No one seemed to have grabbed a coat when they left the restaurant.
Paul motioned the girl forward. He wasn’t moving from Irene. If there was a sniper out there, they’d have to go through him first. No one touched his woman. He was tired of trying to pretend he didn’t love her. Well, he did, whether or not she felt the same way. He would stand by her and protect her while she remained in danger. Or longer, if she allowed him to remain in her life.
The girl had come to stand before him. She tried to remain still, although he could discern telltale signs of nervousness—twisting her hands, chewing her lip, her eyes darting around.
“It’s okay, miss. You’re not in any trouble. But the man responsible for this is a dangerous criminal and we need to catch him as soon as possible. He has been kidnapping Amish children and selling them. My companion and I have just come from returning one of those children to her family.”
An angry murmur spread through the crowd. Children were to be protected. The idea of stealing a child was repugnant.
“I didn’t see him put anything in the buggy. But right before it happened, I saw a man standing over there—” She pointed to an area off to the left. He would have been blocked from Paul’s view by the buggy. “As you came out, he pointed something at the buggy. I thought it was a cell phone. He touched it with his other hand, and then the buggy exploded.”
“How is it that you weren’t hurt by it?” Paul was struck with how close the teenager had come to being seriously injured.
“I was standing on the other side of that truck. I could see everything through its window.”
“Did you see him leave?” Paul really hoped she had.
“Nee. I mean no. I looked up and he was gone.” She looked worried.
“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “Can you tell me anything about what he looked like?”
Even before she described him, Paul knew what she’d say. She’d seen a dark-haired man in a camouflage coat. William Sharps.
* * *
Paul and Irene were both exhausted by the time they reached Mrs. Tucker’s house that evening. Paul walked her inside.
“Chief Paul! Mommy!” Matthew skidded to a halt before them and threw his arms around first his mother and then the chief. Paul started to do his customary rubbing of the boy’s head, but stopped, affection stealing over him. Instead, he bent down and returned Matthew’s hug. Matthew grinned.
Paul started to straighten, then noticed AJ standing at his side, his face serious. AJ was harder to read. Did he want a hug? Paul didn’t know what to do. He decided to leave it up to the seven-year-
old and opened his arms. Immediately, AJ’s thin face lit up and he bounded in to accept a hug, gripping Paul tightly in return.
Paul had made up his mind earlier to go straight home and leave Irene to have some personal time with her sons. So when Vera invited him to stay and have a piece of pecan pie and a cup of fresh coffee, he opened his mouth to decline.
Irene’s soft hand on his arm stopped him.
“Paul, we’d love to have you join us.” She added a soft smile meant only for him. He forgot how to breathe. “Stay.”
Wordlessly, he nodded.
Pecan pie was his absolute favorite. And yet this time, he never tasted a bite. His focus was all on the beautiful redhead seated next to him. He would gladly remain by her side for the rest of his days. As far as he was concerned, there’d never be another woman for him.
It was some time later when he looked around to see Vera herding the boys off to their baths. They both came over to give Paul and their mother another hug before following their grandmother.
Paul stood up. He needed to take his leave.
As they moved together to the front door, his phone rang. It was Jackson.
“Jackson. What’s going on?” He kept his eyes on Irene as he talked.
“Hey, Chief. We just got a report that Sharps might have been spotted near the Indiana border.”
That grabbed his attention. His brow wrinkled as he processed this new information. “Indiana? Not Pennsylvania?”
“That’s what the report said. It wasn’t a definite sighting, but the timing’s right.”
He hung up and related the news to Irene. “I’m still going to have you watched and the house kept under surveillance. Even if it’s him leaving the area for now, I don’t think he’ll stay gone. The Indiana police are keeping a watch for him, also.”
“You’ll get him.” Irene flashed that soft smile up at him. The one that made him feel invincible and weak at the knees simultaneously. “I know you will, Paul. I have faith in you.”
He couldn’t take any more. He reached out and pulled her gently into his arms, the way he’d wanted to so many times. He held his breath, waiting for her to resist or pull back. She did neither, melting into his arms. Softly, he allowed his lips to touch hers. A sigh left her. Gaining confidence, he kissed her again, letting the sweet kiss linger.
When they parted, her cheeks were pink and her eyes were shining.
Touching the side of her face, he turned and walked out the door, knowing he’d dream of this moment all night.
FIFTEEN
Irene waved at the officer sitting across the street in his cruiser the next afternoon as she left her office and headed toward her car to drive to a meeting. Paul had reluctantly agreed to let her go to work, as long as an officer trailed her. The Erie precinct had sent several officers to help provide coverage. One of them was Lieutenant Crane. He didn’t wave back. She shrugged. He wasn’t there to be social. She squinted, trying to see him better.
Nope. The glare from the sun was too sharp. She could see his position but not his face. She slowed her walk. A sudden chill fell over her. She continued rapidly on stiff legs to where her SUV was parked. She could almost feel icy fingers touching her neck and couldn’t keep her shoulders from twitching.
Her thoughts flew back to the officer who was on duty to protect her. Even if he wasn’t feeling friendly, he should have acknowledged her presence. Maybe he hadn’t seen her wave? She cut her eyes to the cruiser. He was sitting in the same position as before.
Something was not right.
She reached her vehicle and began to get in, then hesitated. Miles’s fiancée, Rebecca, had been attacked by someone hiding in her car back in October, she remembered. Her legs shook as she peered in her windows. Some of the tension fled as she ascertained that no one was in her car.
But that didn’t mean there was no danger.
She dove into the vehicle, hitting the lock button as soon as the door slammed behind her. Then she leaned her head back against the headrest and let out a shuddering breath. But she couldn’t rest easy yet. Turning her car on, she jabbed the phone button on the dashboard. Her phone was in her back pocket, but it was close enough for the Bluetooth signal to pick up.
“Number?” the computerized voice queried.
Breathlessly, she gave Paul’s number, rooting around in her purse for her sunglasses. Her instinct told her to get out of there, but with the way the sun was reflecting off the snow, she knew she’d never be able to drive without shades. Blue eyes were just that sensitive.
A moment later she sighed in resignation. Voice mail. Well, she’d leave the message as she drove away. Setting her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, she clutched the gearshift to put the car in Reverse.
And shrieked as something hit her window. Her shriek melded with the beep from the voice mail.
Turning her head, she saw a gun pointing right at her.
Private William Sharps had found her. She could still take her chances and put the car in Reverse, hoping to get away before he shot her. Then she saw what he had in his other hand, and her heart stopped beating.
Matthew’s stuffed crocodile. He’d never lose sight of it.
Terrified that this man had her kids, she rolled the window down.
“Smart lady,” he sneered. “Get out of the car and come with me if you want your brats to live.”
“What do want from me?” She hated the quaver in her voice, but she was still composed enough to realize that whatever was said was being recorded in Paul’s voice mail. It was her only hope of getting out of this alive. She knew without a doubt that the man in front of her planned to kill her. And probably her children, too.
Lord, help us. Please guide me.
The sneer hardened into a look of pure hatred. “It’s all your fault. If not for you, Niko would still be alive, and we’d be on our way to being rich men.”
“You know the police are after you.” His eyes blazed at her words, and she hoped the anger provoked him into saying something—revealing an important clue. She had to give Paul as much as information as she could. “Your friend Eddie is in jail. You don’t want to add another murder to your list of offenses.”
He let out a crack of harsh laughter. It grated along her sensitive nerves. “Yeah, Eddie’s probably told them everything. What a weak fool! He wanted to go into hiding again. Said we’d start again in another state. Plenty of desperate people all over the country willing to pay for children. You were too close with the police, he said. It was too risky to continue to work the operation in Pennsylvania. But what about what I wanted?”
She didn’t answer. The malevolent stare he leveled at her said he didn’t care what she thought. He’d made up his mind.
He kicked the door. She jumped, her pulse leaping. “Get out. You’re going to do exactly what I say if you want your kids to survive. They’ll be orphans, but they may live. If you follow my directions.”
At that, she knew it was doubtful that she would be rescued in time. But she wasn’t giving up. Not while there was a chance that her babies would survive.
She must have hesitated too long. He kicked the door again and pointed the gun straight at her head.
“I have no problem with shooting you right here in the middle of the street. But if I do, your kids won’t survive the day.”
Numbly, she opened the door and stepped down. She didn’t even take the time to turn off the engine. Who knew what would set him off? She suspected he wouldn’t really shoot her out in the open. Judging by the angle at which he was standing, he was trying to hide the gun from any passersby. Plus, there was no silencer on it, so chances were he’d be seen if he shot her and ran. No, he was bluffing, though she couldn’t exactly call his bluff. Not if her goal was to get both herself and AJ and Matthew out of this horrific nightmare aliv
e.
No sooner had she stepped away from her vehicle than her right elbow was yanked into his side. Her skin crawled at being in such close proximity to a killer. His long legs kept up a brisk pace and she was forced to jog along at his side, the click of her boot heels loud in the silence. Once, she tripped.
His grip tightened, and he pulled her arm behind her at a painful angle.
Near the side of the parking lot, he stopped next to an old pickup truck. It was so rusted she could barely tell what the original color had been. He forced her up into the cab, shoving her over so he could climb up beside her. He gave her one final shove. Hard. Just for spite, she was sure of it. Her knee knocked over a can of Diet Coke. It spilled across the passenger seat. Her head cracked against the window. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood.
Sharps slammed his door shut, then reached behind his seat and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Instinctively, she drew back. He slapped her, then grabbed both wrists in one large hand. The tape made a loud, tearing noise as he wound it around and around her wrists tight enough that she worried about losing circulation. When he was satisfied that she couldn’t escape, he started the engine and began to drive.
Sharps drove one-handed, the other hand holding the gun. It was positioned low enough that bystanders couldn’t see it. But Irene never forgot that it was there. Add to that, he had no heat in the truck, and her seat was wet. Soon, she was shivering from a combination of terror and the cold seeping into her body. Her mind was unable to formulate clear thoughts. She should pray, but nothing was coming. Instead, her mind kept up a litany of Help, Lord. Help.
It was all she could do. She trusted that God understood, and that He would take care of the rest.
Finally, Sharps pulled off the main road and up a side street. She knew this road. It dead-ended at an old lumber mill that had been closed for over ten years.
Apparently, Sharps had found another use for it.
Shudders were racking her slender frame continuously by this point. Her jaw was aching from her chattering teeth grinding against each other.