by Peggy Staggs
I didn’t know the CSU number. We were wasting time. Wait. The number at the bottom of the piece of paper we’d found. “Where’s the paper Jane hid for me?”
His hand went to his coat pocket. “Why?”
“We need to call the number at the bottom of the note. If we’re facing two groups, the number must be the other group,” I pointed out.
“No. We don’t want to tip our hand. When we get them both back, we’ll call it.” He watched me from across the entry. “I’ve been through this a hundred of times. You’ve got to understand the odds of us finding them alive are slim. In all probability, they’re already dead.”
“I can’t.” I studied his face. “I will not lose them. I’ve already lost so much.”
His eyes were the color of ice. Deep, pitiless, ice. “I’ll do what I can.” There was something behind his words. What had he left unsaid? Whatever it was, I knew it was significant. Did he know more than he’d let on? Of course, he always did. In D. C., I’d found it unsettling. No matter what I told him, he was never surprised. It was as if he already knew. It bothered me to the point I’d searched my office and house for listening devices. In the end, I dismissed the impressions as an overactive imagination. It wasn’t the first time my crazy side had escaped.
I called Phyllis and asked for CSU’s number.
“I called there the minute the power came back on,” she said. “No one answered. It must still be out in Mullen,”
I thanked her and told Don what she’d said.
“Let’s go see what the lab rats have for us.”
I blinked. Lab rats. What a total jerk. Did Don think of me like that? No. He’d never been interested in my professional life. Until he destroyed it. I’d been more of a garnishment, like the parsley on his dinner plate. No real worth just there to be decorative. I shook off the lousy feeling. He understood it took a special woman to be a wife in the spotlight. They’re made of a lot sterner stuff than people know. You’ve seen the wives of men in the public eye stand behind them as they confessed to some indiscretion. He’s finally figured out I was that strong woman. Too bad, he hadn’t figured out I wouldn’t be that woman for him.
Time raced toward the deadline. I had to try to get the cash they wanted. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Uncle Stan. He’d know what to do. I pulled out Jack’s phone and called him.
“Hello?” It was more of a question than a greeting.
“Uncle Stan, it’s Ensley.”
“Pumpkin, how can I help?”
“You know what’s going on?” I asked.
“Brad Hughes called me,” he cleared his throat. “Have you found out anything new?” I had to break the news to him about Jane. I steeled myself and said, “Uncle Stan, they have Jane too.”
“God, no. Not Janie.”
Silence.
Finally, I told him about the ransom demand. “I can’t get the money in time.”
“Even if you could, it wouldn’t do any good. Jack is the best at what he does. If he can, he’ll get them out of this.” He gave a long deep sigh. “If he can’t—I’m worried about both of them.”
“I’m not going to stand by and let them die. I have too much at stake.”
“Ensley, I do not want you doing something stu—you’re not prepared to do. Are we clear?”
Woops, Ensley. He only called me by my given name when he was upset with me. “I’ll be okay. Don March is—”
“Let me speak to him.”
This was not going to end well.
I held out the phone. “Stan Hofstadter wants to talk to you.” For a second he looked at the device as if he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Great.” He took the phone. “General, I’m doing everything I can—No one can get in or out. I’m counting on the storm lasting long enough for me—I’m aware of who he is—no I’m not going to jeopardize their lives. — resent the implication.” He stopped and looked down at me. “Don’t threaten me.” He closed his eyes in frustration. “I’ll do everything I can.” Without another word, he shoved the phone at me.
“Pumpkin, I don’t know what March is up to, but you can—I’ve got some calls to make.”
“Uncle Stan,” I had one more question. “Have you found out about the phone number I gave to Brad?” I had to know who was on the other end of that number.
“Pumpkin.” The silence that traveled between us was more frightening than any answer he could have given me.
“It’s terrorist, isn’t it?”
“Brad is still tracing it. Listen to me. There is someone there besides the Shaws. You take care. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, don’t go out there.”
“Who else is out there?”
“Right now, it’s only speculation. When we know for sure, I’ll let you know. I can’t say this enough. Do not go out there.”
“I have to get him back.” It was all I could manage.
“We’ll do our best. As soon as we can get there...”
There was nothing else to be said. I couldn’t find Jack, Uncle Stan, and Brad couldn’t get here, and whoever was coming from the Boise side wouldn’t be here either.
I followed Don back through the trees.
When we reached the parking lot by the B&B, I saw Jack’s truck. For a flash, I thought he was back. Safe. A micro-second later, reality crashed down on me. Stay steady. Stay steady. I repeated over and over in my head. This is who I am. The girl who’s always steadfast, the one able to deal with whatever is thrown at her. The one who’s not used to relying on anyone else.
This time was different. On top of everything else, it came too close on the heels of the trauma of last fall. I’d fought back toward normal with the help of Jane, but I knew I couldn’t have done it without Jack. He’d been there every time I needed him. No pressure, only the gentle touch of his hand and the strength in his voice.
The pain brought with it the realization that the two people who’d helped me along the way were now counting on me to save them. On some level—not the one that puts things into solid words, but in the very essence of my heart—I knew if I failed today my future would be lost to me.
»§«
At two o’clock, Luke opened the CSU lab door for us. “I’m glad you’re here. I have something for you.”
We walked along an ordinary corridor of mundane-colored tile leading to a beige door and, behind it, a hospital green lab. The walls were painted concrete block. Butted up against them were nondescript tables, no personal pictures or Christmas decorations in sight. The only spot of color was a periodic table of elements hanging on the far wall.
Luke plucked a slide from the table. “This tells us where they are or at least, where they’ve been. I’d bet on it.”
“What is it?” Don took the slide.
“Motor oil.”
“That narrows it down to almost everywhere.” Don’s sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on either of us. “Gas stations, truck stops, garages, homes where they change their own oil. I assume people around here do that sort of thing. Should I keep going?”
Luke shook his head. “Not this. It’s the new synthetic stuff. No one around here uses it much. It’s expensive. Only one place here in Mullen even carries it.”
“He may have walked through it.” Don handed back the slide.
“If he did, he had to splash through a puddle of it. It was on his shoes and pant legs.”
“Maybe he’s a mechanic,” I said. I held fast to this new thread of hope. It would narrow our list of suspects.
“Jimmy, the guy at the motel, is a car nut. If this guy worked in a garage, Jimmy would know him.”
I turned to Don. “He lied to us.”
“I do not like being lied to.” Don shifted his attention to Luke. “Where does this Jimmy live?”
“No idea.” Luke reached for his phone. “Maybe my sister does.” He dialed. “Hey, you remember Jimmy, the guy you went out with a few months back? Yeah, the car guy. Where’s he live?” He waited. “Thanks. Tell Mom
I’ll be over when I can. Bye.” To us, he said, “He still lives with his mother.” He wrote down the address and handed it to me.
“Figures,” Don said.
“Thanks, Luke,” I said. “And thanks for everything. You should go home to your family.” I hoped we wouldn’t need him again.
With Jimmy’s mother’s address in hand, we drove across town to a neighborhood drowned in snow. The plows hadn’t made it out here. In all our travels, I hadn’t seen any sign of them anywhere. Maybe they were waiting for a break in the winter onslaught.
I looked out at the house across the street. “What now?” The snow drifts were getting deeper. Everything was covered in almost three feet of new snow. “Do we walk up, knock on the door, and ask her if her son is a kidnapper?”
“It’s not very subtle. Let’s try a less obvious approach.”
“I don’t have any subtle left. I do have a lot of blatant. I want someone’s butt on a platter.”
“I’ve never seen you like this. What happened to my calm, rational girl?” He frowned. “The one I asked to marry me?”
“I left her up on a snow-covered mountain—” I pointed toward the failed ski resort. “—while I was fighting for my life and Jack’s. Events and this town have changed me.”
“Trace again.” He reached for the truck’s door handle. “Let’s get this over with.”
I caught up with him as he crossed the street. “This isn’t the kind of place you’d hold someone, two someone’s, hostage. We’re in a small town in the country, not in the impersonal city. People here know their neighbors.” Of course. “They aren’t being held in either Mullen or Spirit Springs.” I snapped my fingers, which didn’t make any noise because of my mittens. “They have to be in a secluded place. It must be a ranch they can get to. The Jessen’s ranch.”
“We were out there. We’d have seen some signs.”
I wasn’t wrong. I knew how information traveled through Spirit Springs. I figured it was the same in Mullen. I took in the street around us. The post-World War II houses were all decorated. All except the one we were walking toward. Around us, the falling snow distorted the holiday lights.
Someone had cleared the sidewalks. They’d probably gotten a brand-new snow blower for Christmas and opened it early out of necessity. In the house next door to our target, a Santa form stuck out of a snowdrift. The only parts still visible were the top of his head and the fingers on his waving hand. His eight-tiny reindeer were buried up to their antlers.
“Don’t you see? It makes sense. If Brad is right—” And I knew he was— “Jessen’s daughter would have access to his ranch.”
“No one even knew about her, which tells me she hasn’t been around. She wasn’t part of his life. You can’t step back into a person’s life and expect to be....” His words had a personal ring to them. I knew now all his ambition was because he was trying to prove himself. Impress someone who’d never been around and never would be. Despite everything, I felt sorry for him.
In all the months we’d been together, tonight was the first time he’d ever mentioned his family and then only his mother. It must have been painful for him when I rambled on about Cole and my dad. Of course, my attachment to Soph, ma am, papa and the boys—my other family. Being around them had to be salt in his wound. I had people who held me as close as if I were one of them. “Don.” What? I’m sorry?
For an instant, I saw the real Don March. Not the hard CIA agent, but a sad little boy. A lost frightened child.
I’d seen him in a lot of situations. I’d never seen him struggle this way. For the first time since I’d known him, his expression turned vulnerable. As fast as it had appeared, it vanished, and he resumed his mask of a self-confidence CIA supervisor. “The point is,” he said, “a child doesn’t accept an absent parent as if all is forgiven. As if, their absence didn’t matter.”
“Maybe. The thing is, she cared enough about her father to threaten Jack and me last fall and to put together a group to kidnap Jack and Jane now.” He may know a lot about the crime part of this situation, but I knew something he didn’t. A special bond exists between fathers and daughters.
“He didn’t acknowledge her. That had to affect her,” he said as he turned toward the house.
“If she didn’t care, why go to all this trouble? She lost two of her group taking Jack.”
He gazed down at me as if I were a stupid child. “She wants money. People like her don’t care about the casualties. Trace never did. Let’s get this over with.”
Why did he hate Jack with so much passion?
“Does it ever quit snowing here?” Don snapped.
“Nobody’s home,” called a woman walking her dog. At least, I assumed she was. She held one of those retractable leashes in her hand. The dog wasn’t tall enough to be seen over the mound of snow in front of her. “Haven’t been for a while.” Her red puffy jacket and short gray hair peeking out from under a red knit hat gave her Mrs. Claus look. The only thing missing was a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a plate of cookies.
I left Don and waded back to her. “Do you know where they went?”
“Bonnie won a trip south.” She adjusted her scarf up around her neck. “I wish I was in a warmer climate. My joints ache.” She paused. “Good luck for her. Still, it was odd.”
“Why is it odd?” Don asked over my shoulder.
She tilted her head as a puzzled look showed on her face. “It’s Christmas. She’s been gone for a few days. Not due back until Monday next.” She looked from Don to me. “I’d want to be with my family this time of year.”
Yeah, me too. “How about Jimmy?” I tried to make it sound as if we knew the family. “Is he around?”
“He only comes by when he wants something. Usually, money. Bonnie spoiled the boy something awful. He turned out selfish and mean.”
“I take it you don’t care for him,” Don said.
“No-good kid. First, he was going to be a mechanic. I let him change the oil in my lawnmower. He tore it all apart. When he couldn’t fix it, he took it to the dealer downtown and had the repairs charged to me. A new one would have been cheaper. Then, he was going to be an accountant. It must have required effort because he’s working at the motel down by the highway.”
“I’m Don March.” He offered her his hand.
“Gertrude Goode.” She grinned up at him.
“Have you seen him around lately, Gertrude?” Don chatted with her like she was his favorite neighbor.
“He was here this morning. You only missed him by a couple of hours or so.” She smiled at Don as her little dog began to whine. She reached down and picked up the mini-pooch.
From her expression, I guessed he was smiling back. He had a charming smile when he wanted. His smooth manner lured people into telling him anything he wanted. Something he usually ended up using to his advantage. I’d fallen for his enticements more than once.
“Did you talk to him?” Don asked.
She took a step closer to him. “Yes. He was in a hurry. I wished him a Merry Christmas. He said something about it being the best ever. Struck me as off since his mother was gone.”
“Did he mention where he was going?” Don asked.
She gave him another smile. “No. Just hopped in his little truck and left.” She laughed. “It’s a piece of junk. He’s probably stuck somewhere.”
“Do you know where he lives now?” I asked.
Her little dog was shivering. “He got a place over to the new apartments east of town. Valley View Village, I think it’s called.” She hugged her dog to her. “I’ve got to get Sparkle inside before she freezes.”
“You’ve been very helpful.” Don removed a card from his pocket. “If you think of anything else, or he comes back.” He wrote his cell number on the card. “Please, give me a call.”
She took the card. “Oh. CIA. I sure will.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this between us.”
Her eyes grew wide with excitement as
if 007 himself was asking her to keep a vital secret for queen and country. “I will. My Frank was in the Navy. You can count on me.” She watched us get into Jack’s truck.
Don waved to her as we left.
“You’re very smooth,” I said.
“I used to be in the field, remember?” He paused. “We need to talk.”
“Oh, no. Not again. What’s the point? We never get anything settled.” I’d had all the talk I wanted from him. There wasn’t anything more to be said. I knew how he felt. He knew how I felt. Nothing would change with more words. No matter how many times he said, we needed to talk. The problem was every time he started the conversation I ended up with him a whole lot closer than I wanted.
Wait, if he wanted to chat, we would. This time, it was going to be on my terms. I had only one question. “Why did you really come here?” I held up my hand as he started to protest. “I know what you said, but I want the real reason. Anyone of your men could make this exchange. Why Jack? Why now?” Okay, maybe I had a few more questions. “You said you couldn’t stand seeing me with Jack but, you haven’t truly seen me with him. I know you were the one who wanted me at the bar and grill. Why? Those few minutes were all you saw of us together.” I remembered thinking he had a listening device in my office or my house in D. C. Now it appeared he had someone sending him information from Spirit Springs. If he did, it answered so many questions. Last question. “Why did Jack agree to have me at the bar and grill?”
He stared at me silently. Finally, he started the truck. “I’ll tell you when this is all over.”
In the stillness, I wondered why he hadn’t had a sharp comeback. I wanted a reasonable explanation, one I was sure, I’d never get. It didn’t matter anymore. My here and now was closing in around me. I had more important things to worry about.
Don pulled to a stop at the Winston Motel.
“Why are we here?”
“I want to talk to Jimmy’s boss.”
“It’s Christmas Eve. He’s at home. With his family.” I hadn’t meant it to sound like I was talking to a stupid child, but it did.