His thoughts swirled through time to the week he’d spent with Maggie Tyson. She had been in mourning, torn apart by Bentley’s suicide. And she’d reached out to someone who had known and cared for her brother. Someone who had lived through the same hell, who understood why Bentley had been so tormented. She’d realized that Egan was on a first name basis with the same demons that had haunted her brother for so many years, had shared the same nightmares that finally had driven Bentley to take his own life. Maggie had reached out to Egan and, for the first time in his life, he had succumbed to the pleasure of giving and receiving comfort.
But the connection he and Maggie had shared quickly went beyond sympathy and understanding, beyond a mutual need to mourn a good man’s untimely death. Passion had ignited between them like a lightning strike to summer-dry grass. An out-of-control blaze had swept them away.
Suddenly Egan remembered—he hadn’t used protection the first time he made love to Maggie!
He paced the floor, calling himself all kinds of a fool and finally admitting that the only way to find out the truth was to telephone Maggie. God help us all if her child is my son and Grant Cullen really has kidnapped him.
Maggie escaped into the powder room, locking the door behind her. She needed a few quiet moments away from the crowd that had gathered at her house. All her friends, aunts, uncles and cousins meant well, as did Bent’s friends and their parents, who were congregated in her living room. Paul Spencer had stopped by less than an hour ago to give her an update on the local manhunt for Bent. No one had seen the boy all day and there wasn’t a trace of him or the book bag he’d been carrying. It was as if her son had dropped off the face of the earth.
The agony she’d felt earlier had intensified to such an unbearable degree that she wondered how she was able to function at all. But somewhere between the moment she realized that Bent was missing and this very second, a blessed numbness had set in, allowing her to operate with robotic efficiency.
If only she could shut down her mind, stop all the horrific scenarios that kept repeating themselves over and over in her head.
She held on to the hope that Bent was still alive and unharmed. That any minute now he would walk through the front door with a perfectly good reason for where he’d been and why he had worried her so.
She could hang on to her sanity as long as she could believe that her son was all right. If anything happened to Bent…if she lost him…
Maggie rammed her fist against her mouth to silence a gut-wrenching cry as she doubled over in pain. No! No! her heart screamed. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. Bent was all she had. He was her very life. If she lost him, she would have nothing.
Her son deserved to live and grow up to be the man she knew he could be. He had a right to go to college and get a job and find a girlfriend. To marry and have children. To live a normal life and die in his sleep when he was ninety.
As Maggie slumped to her knees in the small powder room, she prayed, trying to bargain with God. Let him be all right. Let him live and have a long, happy life and you can take me. Take me now and I won’t care. Just don’t let my precious Bent suffer. Don’t let him die.
A loud tapping at the door startled Maggie. She’d been so far removed from the present moment that she had forgotten she had a houseful of concerned friends and relatives. The tapping turned into repeated knocks.
“Maggie, honey, there’s a phone call for you,” Janice said. “I told him that now wasn’t a good time for you, but he insisted. Mag, it’s Egan Cassidy.”
“What!”
“Do you want me to ask him to call back later?”
“No.” Maggie lifted herself from the floor, stared into the mirror over the sink and groaned when she saw her pale face and red eyes. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll take the call in the den. Would you make sure no one else is in there.”
“Sure thing.”
Maggie turned on the faucet, cupped her hands to gather the cold water and then splashed her face. After drying her face and hands, she unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. She made her way through the throng of loving, caring, wall-to-wall people, as she headed toward the den. Slowed down by hugs and words of encouragement, it took her quite some time to finally reach the small, cosy room that she considered a private sanctuary.
Janice waited by the mahogany secretary, the telephone in her hand. Maggie hesitated for a split second, then took the phone, breathed deeply and placed the receiver to her ear. Janice curled her fingers into a tiny waving motion as she started to leave the room, but Maggie shook her head and motioned for her friend to stay.
“This is Maggie Douglas.” She was amazed by how calm her voice sounded.
“Hello, Maggie. It’s Egan Cassidy.”
“Yes, Janice told me.”
“I know you’re probably puzzled by this phone call.”
“Yes, I am. After fifteen years, I never expected to hear from you.” Why was he calling now? she asked herself. Today of all days?
“I need to ask you some questions,” Egan said.
“About what?”
“About your son. You do have a son, don’t you? A fourteen-year-old son named Bentley Tyson Douglas.”
“What do you know about Bent?” She couldn’t hide the hysteria in her voice. Had Egan found out that he had a son? Had he somehow talked Bent into going away with him? Was that why Egan was calling, to tell her that he had claimed his son?
“Then you do have a son?”
“Yes, I—is Bent with you? Did you find out that—”
“Bent isn’t with me,” Egan told her. “But your son is missing, isn’t he?”
“If he isn’t with you, then how do you know—”
“How long has he been missing?”
“Since this morning. I dropped him off at school and no one has seen him since.”
“Damn!”
“Egan, please, tell me what’s going on. How did you know about Bent and how did you find out he was missing?”
Long pause. Hard breathing. Although they were physically hundreds of miles apart, Maggie could feel the tension in Egan, could sense some sort of emotional struggle going on inside him.
“Egan, you’re frightening me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep and low and the sentiment truly genuine. “Maggie, I need to know something and it’s important that you tell me the truth.”
The rush of blood pounded in her head. Her heartbeat accelerated rapidly. Adrenaline shot through her like a fast acting narcotic. “Ask me.”
“Is Bent my son?”
Maggie closed her eyes. A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. Janice rushed to her side and draped her arm around Maggie’s waist.
“Are you all right?” Janice whispered. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
Maggie shook her head, then opened her eyes, her vision blurred by the sheen of moisture. “Yes, Bent is your son.”
Egan groaned. Maggie bit down on her bottom lip. The sound from Egan that came through the telephone was that of a wounded animal. A ferocious hurt. An angry growl.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Egan said. “I know what has happened to Bent—”
Maggie cried out.
“Don’t panic. For now, he’s safe. Do you hear me? He hasn’t been harmed. But in order to keep him safe, you’re going to have to let me handle things. Do you understand?”
“No,” Maggie said. “No, I don’t understand anything. Where is Bent? What’s happened to him?”
Janice gasped. “He knows where Bent is?”
“Who’s that?” Egan asked. “Who’s there with you?”
“Janice Deweese. In case you’ve forgotten, Janice is my dearest friend and my assistant at Rare Finds.”
“Then you can trust Janice?”
“Yes, of course I can trust her.”
“With your life? With Bent’s life?”
“Yes.”
“I assume you’ve alerted the local
authorities,” Egan said. “But what I’m going to tell you, I want you to keep it to yourself. Or at least between you and Janice.”
“God in heaven, Egan, will you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Bent’s life could depend on your following my instructions, on letting me handle things without involving any law enforcement other than the ones I chose to bring in on this.”
“Bent’s life could—” Maggie choked on the tears lodged in her throat. Her son’s life was in danger and Egan knew from what or from whom that danger came. How was it possible that Egan was involved in Bent’s disappearance when he’d never been a part of Bent’s life? She didn’t understand any of this. Nothing made sense. It was as if she’d suddenly passed through some invisible barrier straight into the Twilight Zone.
“Maggie!” Egan demanded her attention.
“I don’t understand anything. None of this makes any sense to me. Explain to me what’s happening. Where is Bent? Why…why—”
“Don’t do anything. And don’t speak to anyone else tonight. If there are people in your house, get rid of them. I’ll fly into Parsons City tonight and I’ll explain everything to you when I get there.”
“Egan, wait—”
“I’ll get your son back for you, Maggie. I’ll bring him home. I promise you that.”
“Egan!”
The mocking hum of the dial tone told Maggie that Egan had hung up. She slumped down in the chair at the secretary, covered her face with her hands and moaned.
Janice knelt in front of Maggie, then pried Maggie’s hands from her face. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Maggie admitted. “Somehow Egan found out that Bent is his son and he knows that Bent is missing. Egan said…he said that he knew what had happened to Bent and that he wanted me to let him handle everything. He promised me that he’d bring Bent home.”
“Is Bent with Egan?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Maggie stared straight through Janice. “Egan is coming here tonight to tell me what happened to our son.”
Bent glared at the plate of food his jailer had brought to him several hours ago. He was hungry, but he hadn’t touched the fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. He had no way of knowing whether or not his food had been poisoned. But why his captors would choose to poison him, he didn’t know. They could easily have killed him a dozen different ways by now.
Although they had taken his book bag and his cellular phone, they hadn’t robbed him of either his wallet or his wristwatch. And other than drugging him initially in order to kidnap him and keeping him bound and gagged in the car and then on the airplane, his abductors hadn’t laid a finger on him. Of course, they had blindfolded him when they’d taken him off the plane.
He had heard one of them, the guy who’d approached him in the school parking lot, tell the other one, a younger, more clean-cut man, that the general didn’t want the kid hurt.
“He’s waiting for the kid’s old man to show up first.”
Bent didn’t understand. What did his father have to do with his kidnapping? He hadn’t seen Gil Douglas in over a year. And he hadn’t spoken to him in three months. After his parents’ divorce his relationship with his dad had slowly deteriorated. And it wasn’t as if his father was rich. Gil spent every dime he made, as a chemical engineer, on his new wife and two-year-old daughter.
Nope, it didn’t make any sense at all that his dad was involved in any way, shape, form or fashion with his kidnapping.
So what was going on? He had been abducted, flown across country to only God knew where and was being kept prisoner in a clean, neatly decorated bedroom and served a decent meal on a china plate.
Bent checked his watch. Fifteen after nine. He’d been missing for more than twelve hours. His mother must be out of her mind with worry. She’d probably called the police and had every friend and relative in Parsons City out scouring the countryside for him. And what had she done when no one had been able to find him? His mom would stay strong and hopeful. And she would go to her kitchen to think and plan. He could picture his mother now, in their big old kitchen, baking. For as long as he could remember, his mother had baked whenever she was upset, depressed or needed to make a decision.
Boy, what he’d give for some of her delicious tea cakes. And a glass of milk. And his own bed to sleep in tonight.
Eaten alive by frustration and an ever-increasing fear, Bent tried the door again. Still locked. Stupid! He scanned the room, searching for any means of escape. There were no bars on the two windows, both small rectangular slits near the ceiling. He shoved a chair against the wall, climbed onto the seat and peered out the windows. The moonlight afforded him a glimpse of the shadowy, enclosed courtyard below and the two men who seemed to be guarding the area. Scratch the idea of climbing out the windows.
He heard voices in the hallway, but couldn’t make out the conversation. His heartbeat increased speed. Sweat dampened his palms. What if they were coming for him? What if—
Footsteps moved past the door. Silence. Was someone standing outside the door guarding him? Had another someone stopped by to issue orders?
Bent balled his hands into tight fists and beat on the door. “Let me out of here! Why are you doing this? What are you going to do with me?”
He pummeled the door until his fists turned red, until they ached something awful. And he hollered while he banged on the hard wooden surface—hollered until he was hoarse. But no one replied. No one released him. It was as if no one could hear him.
Anger boiled inside Bent, mingling with fear and frustration. He kicked the wall, denting the Sheetrock with his toe. Damn! He couldn’t blast his way out of here. He was stuck, trapped, caught.
Bent flung himself down on the neatly made bed, shoved his crossed arms behind his head and glared up at the ceiling. He had to find a way to get out of here, to free himself from his captors. But how? He didn’t know. But there had to be a way. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give up! Not now. Not ever.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Janice asked as she stood on the front porch with Maggie. “I can spend the night.”
“No, Egan said to clear the house. He doesn’t want anyone here when he arrives.” Maggie hugged her arms around her as she waited for her friend to leave.
“Why do you trust him? He’s the man who ran out on you and left you pregnant.”
“Egan never made me any promises.”
“No, but he didn’t have a problem taking advantage of you, did he? He sweet-talked his way into your bed, made you fall in love with him and then told you that he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship.”
“None of that matters now,” Maggie said. “All that’s important is that he knows what’s happened to Bent and he’s promised to bring my son home to me.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Aren’t you the least bit suspicious? You haven’t heard from the guy in fifteen years and suddenly, on the very day Bent disappears, he calls to tell you he knows Bent is his son.”
“Yes, of course I’m suspicious. But I know—I know!—that Egan is as concerned about Bent as I am. I could hear it in his voice. He was in pain.” Maggie looked out over the front yard. Streetlights on either end of the block illuminated the manicured lawn and flower beds. She and Bent did all the yard work themselves—a mother and son project.
Janice gave Maggie a tight hug, then released her and walked down the porch steps. “I’m a phone call away. I can be back here in five minutes.”
“Go on home and get some rest. Call me in the morning, if you haven’t heard from me before then.”
“Okay. And don’t worry about the bookstore. I’ll take care of things there.”
Maggie remained on the porch until Janice backed her car out of the driveway, then she turned and went inside the house. In the foyer, the tick of the grandfather clock’s pendulum kept time with her heartbeat. As she made her way
through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen, she found herself wishing Janice and the others hadn’t cleaned up after themselves. If they had left dirty glasses and nasty ashtrays, at least she’d have something to do, something to occupy her mind while she waited.
She had thought of nothing else for the past two hours except the fact that Egan Cassidy knew what had happened to Bent. She had gone over at least a dozen possibilities, but not even one plot line was based in reality. Her mind had run the gamut from Bent having left home to find his biological father to someone from Egan’s mercenary world having kidnapped Bent to hold him for ransom.
Maggie found herself alone in the kitchen, her favorite room of the house. All her life, since early childhood when she had hovered at her grandmother’s side and watched her beloved MaMa create mouthwatering meals, Maggie had found her greatest solace in this room.
She had redecorated the kitchen and the master bedroom shortly after her divorce, needing to wipe away any memories of Gil. Forgetting her five-year-marriage to her childhood friend had been easy enough, especially when he had remarried so quickly. In less than six months after their divorce was final. Even then, realizing that he’d probably been unfaithful to her for quite some time, she still couldn’t blame him for the demise of the marriage. How could she hold him at fault when he had always known that he was her second choice, that Bent’s father was the one man she had truly loved?
Rummaging in the cabinets for the ingredients to MaMa’s tea cakes—Bent’s favorite—Maggie let her mind drift back to the first time she ever saw Egan Cassidy. Oh, she’d heard about Egan for years. Bentley had talked about his old war buddy, when he was sober as well as when he was drinking. Her brother had admired and respected Egan in a way he had no other man. Several times over the years, Bentley had gone to Memphis to visit Egan, to share a few days of wine, women and song. But Egan had never come to Parsons City. Not until Bentley died.
Egan Cassidy's Kid Page 3