It had been many long months since she had shown up for that emergency call, months of paperwork and interviews, months of waiting and hoping and falling on her knees in prayer. Both sets of Davey’s grandparents had officially signed over custody, reluctantly agreed that they weren’t up for the task of raising the little boy. That had been an emotional day. It was too bad that the legal system required such finality in order to allow adoption to proceed. But Abby had assured them that they would always be a welcome part of Davey’s life. She was ready and excited to finalize the adoption. She wanted to be a mother. And Davey needed a home.
She had always been proudly independent and confident in her own ability to deal with any problem life sent her way. Why ask for help when she could do it on her own? Proof positive could be found right here, at One Duck Shop, the site of her first job on the reservation. Hoping to make some money to help her family, she had applied for a part-time position on her fourteenth birthday and started restocking shelves the following day.
“Pssst!” A whisper slid through the stillness of the night.
A dark figure beckoned her forward. Cal. He lowered his voice to explain. “I couldn’t pick the lock, so I broke a window in the back. And guess what? There’s an old snowmobile parked back there, too. Once we find a phone and call the station, I might just try to hot-wire the ignition to see if I can get it to work. The way I see it, it can’t hurt to have a backup plan just in case we need to make a speedy exit. But for now, I think we can take our little friend to warm up inside the store. While you make sure he’s comfortable, I’ll see if I can find a phone and call nine-one-one.”
Abby nodded. She could help with that. She knew that Mr. Ratten, the shop’s owner, kept an old-school rotary phone in front of the store.
“Here, let me take the little guy,” Cal offered as they wound around to the back of the store. He hopped over the ledge of the broken window and held out his arms. Abby passed the bundle over to him and climbed over the sill.
A rush of warmth greeted her as she stepped down onto the floor. The aisles formed a shadowy labyrinth looming large in their path. But a sliver of moonlight shone through a small side window, guiding them forward to the front of the store.
“The phone is on a shelf by the door.”
She followed behind Cal as he headed down the main aisle toward the front of the store. Cal lifted up the receiver, waited a moment, and then shook his head. His clenched lips and furrowed brow said it all. There was no connection. He set the phone back on the cradle and drummed his fingers against the counter, telegraphing his frustration.
“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised,” he said at last. “The landlines always go down during major storms, so it makes sense that a blizzard like this would have disrupted service. Is there any chance this place sells burner phones?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. We’ll figure something out. Let’s find a couple of flashlights and check this place out.”
“This way.” She reached forward and felt along the side wall. Flashlights and batteries would be in the next aisle over. She turned the corner and walked a few paces toward the middle shelf. “We should both take one of those big Maglites and a smaller one, too, to keep in our pockets.”
Cal ripped open a package of D batteries and slipped them into the shaft of one of the larger lights. “Here. Use this to find the little guy some food and dry clothes.”
Abby nodded. “I’ll be in aisle two, next to the fishing gear.”
Cal called after her. “Good thing you know right where to go.”
But she had already turned the corner, her legs hurrying toward the shelf devoted to an assortment of baby items and sundry goods. She snatched up a box of diapers and a package of onesies. Her eyes scanned for more. Plastic and glass bottles. She grabbed a plastic one. What about formula? The baby whimpered, and she joggled him up and down as she searched.
Aha! Relief exploded in her chest. At the very bottom of the shelf, tucked beside a selection of baby shampoos, was a box of powdered formula.
Just in time, too. The baby opened his eyes and let out a scream loud enough to quake the rafters. Isobel’s little boy was awake, probably wet and cold and hungry. And she needed to fix all that before the kidnappers returned.
* * *
Cal smiled as he slipped a small flashlight and keychain in the pocket of his overalls. Despite the unhappy wailing of the littlest member of their team, he and Abby were in the best position they had been all night. They were out of the bank. They were no longer braving the snow and wind. And they had found the perfect spot to hole up until the storm passed. His eyes darted toward the restroom door. Ten minutes earlier, Abby had hurried inside, carrying the crying baby and a whole armful of stuff.
He blew out a sigh, grateful for Abby’s steadying presence beside him. Not only had she saved them time by locating everything they needed, she had also taken the lead in caring for a needy newborn.
Well, she wasn’t the only one who could be productive. If they were going to spend some quality time here, he needed to put some precautions in place. Unlike Abby, his knowledge of One Duck Shop was limited to the handful of times he had stopped in for gas and a cup of coffee on his way to the reservation.
Situated off the highway at the entrance of the reservation, One Duck Shop was a kind of catch-all convenience, grocery and hardware store rolled into one. And if memory served, the place sold a number of items that could be repurposed into an early warning system to alert them to the presence of intruders. He snatched up a shopping basket and headed down the aisles, tracing the beam of his flashlight over the shelves and grabbing items that could be useful for setting a trap.
After just a few minutes, his basket was overflowing. This place really was amazing. It didn’t carry a wide selection of different brands, but it seemed to have just about everything he might need. He walked back to the window he had broken earlier. With masking tape and a tarp, he covered the opening and then affixed several toy bells to the plastic. If anyone tried to come in that way, the ringing would alert them of the intrusion.
From there he headed back to the front of the store. Excellent. He smiled. The main entry door opened outward. Using a pocketknife, he had found in the home repair aisle, he cut some nylon fishing line and, with a hammer and a nail, fixed it in place on the left side of the door. He pulled the string taut and did the same thing on the right side. Anyone trying to enter would trip and hit the floor. Then, he grabbed a gallon of paint from the home repair aisle. He tied more nylon fishing thread to the door and then looped it through the handle. Now he needed to find a way to hoist the whole thing above the door. He dragged over a chair, grabbed the paint can and the heavy-duty staple gun and stepped up onto the chair. With a few dozen staples holding the can in place, the trap seemed secure. He stepped down from the chair, pulled the fishing line taut and knotted it tightly against the hinge on the door.
He stepped back to consider his handiwork.
The booby trap wasn’t fancy. But it would get the job done. If anyone tried to open the door, the pull on the fishing line would wrench the paint can forward. The line of staples couldn’t withstand the force, and the fourteen-pound can would quickly crash down on the intruder’s head.
“Smart move.” Abby suddenly materialized beside him with Isobel’s little boy nestled tight in her arms.
“Thanks.” He turned to face her. “Our little traveling companion looks quite content.”
“I know. Right?” she said. “I filled a bottle with lukewarm water from the tap and mixed it with a few ounces of formula. He must have been thirsty because he guzzled it down in minutes. Then, right on cue, he burped and went to the bathroom. So now he’s one happy camper, wrapped back up in a blanket, with a new diaper and a onesie to keep him dry.”
Abby was smiling, though it was hard to take her seriou
sly in her oversize hooded sweatshirt with the One Duck Shop logo across the front and the blue-and-gold-striped socks she must have found while searching in the store. But despite her oddly matched gear, she looked quite stylish. Her hair, still wet from their trek through the snow, seemed to shine even darker under the glow of the flashlight.
She looked down at the baby in her arms, her whole face wreathed in a huge grin. “I’m so glad that we could get this little guy out of the cold. He seems so much happier now, and he’s finally gotten some color back in his cheeks. I know that Ricky and the others could head back to look for the baby. But it would be great if we could stay here long enough for him to warm up. I guess I wouldn’t mind that, either.”
“Me, too,” he said. At least that was what he thought he said. His words seemed to have become jumbled in a whirlwind of feelings he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. He thought about the conversation they had had while making their way through the forest. Abby had opened up and shared the story of the accident that led to her decision to become a paramedic. Hearing her talk about her father’s death gave him insight into the raw emotion he had seen in her eyes that day he had watched her at the scene of the car crash. The dedication she had shown in attempting to resuscitate that injured driver wasn’t born out of competitiveness or a desire for glory. It was something baked hard into her DNA. And it was that same dedication powering her resolve to save the tiny infant left in her care.
“We can hole up here for a little bit longer,” he said at last. “But we have to remember that we’re still not safe. It’s tempting to imagine that our pursuers have chosen to give up the chase. But it doesn’t seem likely. Ricky won’t rest until he gets his hands on his son.”
Abby’s smile faded. “We can’t allow that to happen, Cal. We can’t let those thugs kidnap the baby. I told Isobel I’d take care of him. I can’t let her down.”
He opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. How could he make Abby understand that nothing that had happened in the past few hours was her fault? He wanted to tell her that she was an amazing person—brave and strong and resourceful. That he had no doubt she’d be a wonderful mom to Davey, that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone, anymore.
Was this a good time for one of his stories? Interpersonal skills were not his strong suit, as Shannon had told him more than once. But that book of short biographies sure did come in handy at times like this. Each chapter in that little book had taught him that there were things about men and women—famous and ordinary—those around them often didn’t see.
“What do you know about Faith Hill?” he asked.
“Who?” Abby looked up at him and frowned.
“Faith Hill. What do you know?”
“She’s an extremely successful singer. And she’s married to Tim McGraw. That’s about it.”
“All true. But were you aware that she once auditioned to become a backup singer for Reba McEntire, but she didn’t get the job?”
“No, Cal, I did not know that. But I’m beginning to suspect that this is going to lead to another one of your inspirational tales.”
Trust Abby to have figured out his technique.
“What if I told you that Faith Hill grew up singing in churches? And at age nineteen, she formed her own band that played at local rodeos. She even performed in a prison near her small town. She had talent, and she was determined to make a name for herself. All she needed was a chance.”
Abby nodded. “So the moral here is that we need to harness that kind of determination when faced with problems up ahead.”
Well, that was one way of looking at it. “That’s true. But there is something else, too. Everyone knows that Faith Hill won a ton of music awards and had a lot of hit songs. But few people realize that she was adopted as an infant and raised by a couple who already had two biological sons of their own.”
Abby’s eyes flickered as she met and held his stare. “I get it, Cal. And thanks for the words of encouragement. I hope I can make that kind of difference in Davey’s life, too.”
Cal stroked his chin. “Exactly. As an adopted kid, I am in a good position to say that what you’re planning to do is terrific and brave. And you’ve done everything in your power tonight to keep Isobel’s baby safe, so you shouldn’t feel discouraged in any way.” He paused to take a long breath. “So, moving on to the second message of my story, maybe we need to be creative as we think about making a plan. At least for the moment, it makes sense for us to camp out here for a bit and let the little guy warm up. I’ve got the front door booby-trapped, and the window taped closed with a rudimentary alarm system in place.”
“What about the snowmobile?”
“I’m still hoping that I can get it to work. Except now I’ve sealed us up tight inside the store. I hate to take anything apart just to get outside.”
“Nope.” Abby rubbed the baby’s back. “There’s a side door next to the storage room. It leads out to the back of the store.”
How did Abby know this stuff? He shook his head. “You seem pretty familiar with the layout of this place.”
“Yeah. I used to work here back when I was a kid.”
“I thought your brother told me that you were a waitress when you were in high school.”
“I was. Later. But I worked here when I was younger.”
Younger? How old was Abby when she got her first job? He wondered if it would be impolite to ask.
“I’ll show you how to get out of here without setting off one of the traps.” Abby’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Yeah. Sure.” He was still processing what she had just told him as he turned and followed her across the store. She stepped behind the cashier’s booth, reached beneath the counter and pulled out a jangle of keys. Then she ducked back around and wove to the far corner of the shop. Sure enough, there was a side door. He hadn’t noticed it since it was lined up next to a closet.
Abby selected one of the keys and inserted it into the lock. She turned the handle and the door opened.
“Talk about a creative solution. This is great.” A gust of wind lashed against his face as he propped his foot against the open door. “Any chance there’s something on that key ring that might fit the snowmobile?”
Abby looked down and studied the keys. “I don’t think so. They seem to be the wrong size to fit an ignition.”
“I’ll take them anyway. If I get the snowmobile going, I’ll come back inside and let you know.”
“Okay.” Abby nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll rig up some sort of sling so I can keep the baby with me while I move around the store. I’ll put a couple of extra diapers and a bottle in the basket by the back door. And I suppose we should be thinking about rustling up some sort of dinner...or breakfast, I guess.”
“Cereal’s fine, and a couple of apples.” He offered her a wide grin. “Not that I’d complain if all we snagged were some chips and chocolate candy. We can grab something to eat and plan our next move as soon as I come back inside.”
He took the keys from Abby and gave a quick salute before heading toward the back of the store.
“Oh, and Cal.” At the sound of Abby’s voice, he swiveled back around to face her. “After I find some food, our little friend and I are going to hang out by the register. There’s a video feed under the counter, and I’ll be able to watch the front door and keep an eye out just in case the kidnappers return.”
“Sounds good. I hope and pray that we’ve seen the last of Ricky, Max and Martina. At least until we face them in court.” He turned and walked toward the side entrance.
A high drift was blocking the door, but he managed to shove it aside to create an opening wide enough for him to get through. The storm seemed to be letting up, and he was grateful for the increased visibility as he hurried toward the back of the building where the snowmobile was parked. But as he traced the beam of his flashl
ight across the vehicle’s frame, his heart plummeted in his chest.
The snowmobile was older and more decrepit than he first realized, with a belly caked in dirt and rust, and a windshield cracked in two places. But the skis seemed intact, so once it got going, it would be a decent ride.
He straddled the seat and tried the keys in the ignition. None of them worked.
He moved to the front of snowmobile and reached under the hood. The latch popped open with a click. With his flashlight trained forward, he located the ignition and pulled out a tangle of wires.
He fiddled with them for a few minutes and then closed the hood. Maybe—just maybe—he might have done enough to make this thing work. He gripped the pull starter and was about to give it a yank when he detected the purr of an approaching vehicle. He flicked his flashlight off and, with his head bent low, moved toward the front of the store.
He waited a few seconds, and then he saw it—a dark SUV with its headlights off approaching from the other side of the road.
NINE
Abby sat beneath the service counter, her legs crisscrossed and her back pressed against the wall. It felt good to be still, holding a tiny infant in the makeshift sling close to her heart. She rolled her head back around on her neck and stretched her left arm across her chest. After the long trek through the snow, her body was feeling the strain and tensing up. She’d probably wake up with sore arms and legs in the morning. The morning? When was that? She glanced at the clock on the screen in front of her. 1:47. Even in the dark months of winter, daybreak was less than five hours away.
She glanced toward the back of the store, wondering if Cal was having problems with the snowmobile. At the thought of his clenched fingers fumbling with wires under a cold hood, a rush of guilt crowded her brain. It didn’t seem fair that he was outside freezing while she was so warm and cozy inside the store. She had gathered up a couple of boxes of breakfast bars and a bunch of bananas that would serve as their breakfast when he returned. She hadn’t been able to find any apples, but what was the other thing Cal had requested? Chocolate bars? She reached up and grabbed a couple extra-large packages of peanut butter cups from the display next to the counter to add to her stockpile.
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