by Rita Herron
“You don’t,” the voice said. “But if you want to see her alive, you’ll do what I said and wait for the call.”
Sam’s heart pounded, and she ran to wake up John.
Chapter Eighteen
Sam’s hands shook as she punched in Miss Mazie’s number. She had to make sure Emmie was safe.
Thankfully, Miss Mazie answered and assured her they were both fine.
“Give me the phone,” John said. He spoke to the older woman, then asked to speak to his deputy. “You’re staying around the clock, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Deputy Floyd said, “everything’s fine.”
“Good, keep it that way. We received a call from the kidnapper and are on the first flight out.”
Sam was already packing, and he ended the call, then went to throw his own duffel bag together. They booked the early morning flight, the tension mounting between them during the flight and as they landed. John hadn’t spoken about the night they’d spent together and she didn’t know how to read him.
At least he hadn’t apologized or said their lovemaking was a mistake.
Her body still ached for him, the memory of his touches so sweet and blissful that she wanted to be with him again, wished they could have stayed in bed all day and kissed and loved each other again and again and again.
But Honey and Emmie needed her.
She clenched her phone, hoping to hear from the kidnapper with more instructions as they found John’s SUV at the airport and rode back to Butterville. The fall leaves were turning beautiful colors, the majestic view of the mountains radiant. It was a gorgeous day.
Sam only hoped that Honey’s kidnapper hadn’t lied and that she was still alive.
JOHN WAS SICK OF THIS GAME. He had checked the flight on the way to see if any of their suspects were on board, but found nothing.
As soon as they arrived at the police station, he organized a county wide search and called in a county planner who brought in topical maps of the area to help pinpoint any deserted buildings, houses or cabins that they hadn’t searched previously. Dwayne Hicks showed up, eager to help and acting anxious. Sam’s silence disturbed him. He wanted to comfort her, but he hadn’t broached the subject of their sexual interlude and now wasn’t the time.
Sam’s phone buzzed, and she stepped into the hall to answer. He studied her movements as she paced, then saw her start down the hall. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he hurried toward her and caught her just before she stepped outside.
“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked.
She turned panicked eyes toward him. “He called, John, and he said Honey is alive.”
John exhaled. “Where is she?”
“He asked me to meet him.”
Rage sizzled through him. “And you were going alone?”
She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. “He said if I didn’t, he’d kill her.”
John hissed and gripped her firmly by the arms. “Sam, don’t you see—this is a trap. He might be lying about Honey being alive just to get you alone so he can kill you.” His voice cracked. “And he’ll try to force you to tell him where the baby is first.”
“Then he’d have to kill me because I’d never do that,” Sam said emphatically.
He took a deep breath to control his rage. “That’s why you’re not going alone.”
Sam tried to pull away. “But John—”
“Sam, you are not going to fall into his trap. I want you alive.”
“And I want to save Honey.”
God, the woman was so damn stubborn. “Then trust me,” he growled. “And let’s do this together.”
Fear clouded her expression, and he wanted to pull her into his arms again, but time was of the essence. “Where did he ask you to meet him?”
Sam’s sigh sounded torn. “At the old orphanage where Honey and I met.” She clutched his arm. “I should have thought of it sooner.”
“Shh,” he said quietly. “Now, this is what we’ll do. You’ll drive and I’ll hide in the back.”
She studied him for a long moment, then quietly agreed. He hurried to get the keys for an unmarked police car, then they rushed to the car.
MEMORIES OF THE ORPHANAGE bombarded Sam as she drove from town and wound around the mountain. The first night she’d spent at the orphanage after her parents were murdered, she’d been in shock, terrified of the haunted-looking old mansion, and afraid of the dark.
Then Honey had come and crawled in bed beside her.
Fall leaves fluttered to the ground, the wind scattering them along the mountain road as she climbed the ridge. The orphanage looked like a castle, the stone pillars giving it an eerie, ominous, cold feeling. Her heart began to pound as she relived other bad memories there, the day Honey had been taken to Miss Mazie’s and she’d been left alone.
Courage and determination fortified her. She had to be strong and save Honey today.
From the backseat floor where John had hidden, he spoke in a low voice. “Park near the building beneath some trees so I can sneak out.”
“Got it.” She bounced over the graveled drive, then pulled beneath a cluster of oaks. Hopefully the spidery trees would help shield John from sight.
“Don’t do anything rash, Sam,” John said.
“I won’t.” Her instincts on alert, she climbed out and scanned the woods and sides of the building but saw nothing. The wind whipped her hair around her face, and dry leaves crunched beneath her feet as she crept up to the entrance.
Stomach knotting, she reached for the heavy wooden door, gripped the steel handle, then slipped inside. The building had been deserted for years, and it showed. Cobwebs draped the corners and ancient light fixtures, the place was icy cold from lack of heat, and darkness shrouded the interior, the scent of decay, dust and mold hanging heavy in the thick air.
The screech of bats and mice skittering in the attic echoed off the concrete walls as she climbed the steps to the dormlike sleeping quarters of the orphanage. Her foot hit a piece of torn carpeting, and she nearly tripped, but she gripped the stone wall, its rough cold texture sickeningly familiar.
Another sound reverberated through the corridors, and she hesitated, wishing John was beside her.
He’s close by, she reminded herself. He won’t let anything happen to you.
Besides, she had to take the chance.
The odd noise sounded again—a low cry. Someone whimpering.
Adrenaline shot through her, and she rushed the rest of the way up the steps, then down the dark hallway, searching the corners for Honey’s attacker, then heard the noise again. A cry.
Honey’s.
She picked up her pace and ran to the end of the hall, then swung inside and paused to search the shadows. Honey was lying on one of the old cots, her feet and arms bound, her mouth gagged.
But she was alive.
Alive and hurt and crying.
Sam ran toward her, then dropped to her knees and hugged her, searching her face for injuries. “Oh God, Honey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought…you were dead.”
Honey moaned and jerked at her bindings, and Sam pulled the gag from her mouth.
“Sam, watch out,” Honey cried.
Sam spun around, but a man’s hard, cold hand connected with her jaw, and she fell backward against Honey, dizzy and disoriented.
JOHN SLIPPED THROUGH the trees and bushes and found a side window, wrapped his jacket around his hand and punched out the glass. He crawled through the opening, then crept through the dark, listening for sounds to alert him where Sam was.
Footsteps on the staircase told him Sam was upstairs, and more footsteps indicated Honey’s attacker had followed Sam. He inched his way up the back staircase and paused, then heard a groan and voices.
“You can’t kill us,” Sam said. “The police will find you.”
John slid his gun from the holster, and inched down the corridor toward the voices, praying he made it in time.
�
�Please,” he heard Sam say. “Why are you doing this?”
“Tell me where that damn baby is,” the man growled, “or I’ll finish you both off right now.”
John’s heart raced at the fear in Sam’s voice, and he hurried toward the dark room, then crept into the entrance and aimed his gun at the ready. The room was filled with shadows, but he instantly sized up the situation. Honey lay bound, gagged and bleeding on a cot, Sam beside her, Teddy Jr. gripping her around the neck with a knife blade inches from her carotid artery.
“Drop it, Wexler,” John said through clenched teeth. “It’s over.”
Even in the dim light, John could see that Wexler’s face paled. “You bitch,” he snarled. “I told you to come alone.”
“You’re crazy, Wexler,” John said. “You won’t get away with this.”
Teddy tightened his grip on Sam, and she winced in pain. The bastard was choking her.
“Don’t hurt her, Teddy,” Honey pleaded. “Please, it’s me you want, not Sam.”
“They have to die and so do you,” Teddy said, a crazed tone to his voice. “I’ve gone too far now to stop.”
John spoke calmly, hoping to diffuse the situation. “That’s not true, Teddy. You haven’t killed anyone yet. We can strike a deal, you’ll get a plea bargain.”
“No,” Teddy said. “I can’t go to jail. My father would disown me.”
The son of a bitch was still worried about his damn money. “You are going to jail,” John said. “Either that, or I’ll shoot you here and you won’t make it to the hospital.”
Teddy shook his head wildly, then suddenly Sam brought her elbow up and slammed it into Teddy’s groin. He grunted in pain, dropped the knife, doubled over and fell to the floor scrambling for the weapon.
Sam tried to kick the knife away, and John fired. The bullet pierced Teddy’s shoulder, but he clenched the knife in his other hand and jabbed it at John as he lurched toward him.
The knife stabbed John’s thigh, and blood spurted out. Sam screamed, and John slammed the butt of his gun against Teddy’s temple.
The man groaned and fell backward, dazed, then unconscious.
“John,” Sam cried. “You’re bleeding.”
He pressed a hand to his thigh, felt the blood trickling, but ignored it and handcuffed Teddy to the old furnace. “Are you okay, Sam?”
“Yes, but you need a hospital.”
“Untie Honey and I’ll call it in,” John said.
Sam gave him a teary look, then turned to her friend and began to try to free her. Tears streaked Honey’s dirty cheeks, but she was fighting to undo her bindings.
John glared at Wexler as he called for an ambulance. He wanted to kill the bastard for trying to hurt Sam.
But jail would be worse for a man like Teddy Jr. He’d love to see the judge’s face when he saw his son being carted off to prison for attempted murder.
“SAM,” HONEY WHISPERED hoarsely. “Oh God, Sam, I can’t believe you’re here.”
Honey collapsed into Sam’s arms as soon as she removed the restraints and the two of them hugged and cried.
“God, Honey, I was so scared,” Sam said.
“So was I.” Honey gasped for a breath. “I thought he was going to kill you. I couldn’t have lived with that, Sam.”
“And I was afraid for you.” They both laughed between their tears. Sam pulled back and cradled Honey’s face, examining her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Honey nodded, swiping at tears with a dirt-stained hand. “I kept thinking he’d kill me but he kept holding out, hoping I’d tell him where my babies were.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “You did find Emmie, didn’t you, Sam? Please tell me my little girl is all right.”
“Yes, I found her,” Sam said, wiping at her own eyes. “And she’s safe, Honey, I promise.”
“Where is she now? I have to see her.”
“She’s with Miss Mazie and well taken care of. John assigned a guard to protect them around the clock.”
Honey’s face crumbled again. “Oh, Emmie’s with Miss Mazie. I’ve missed her so much.”
“Honey.” Sam gripped her friend’s hands tightly within her own. “You had another baby, a little boy.” Her heart pounded with fear. “Where is he? Did Teddy hurt him?”
“I left him with an old friend of mine in San Francisco, a man named Reed Tanner.”
“We met him,” Sam said. “When we went to Dallas to track down who’d attacked you.”
“He didn’t mention that he had the baby.” John limped toward them, grabbed one of the old pillowcases and tied it around his leg to stop the bleeding.
“Oh, my God,” Honey said. “What if he didn’t find Troy or someone got him? I left him on Reed’s boat, but I had to leave a note and get out of there because Teddy was on my tail.” She clutched John’s arm. “We have to call Reed. I have to make sure little Troy is okay.”
“Do you know his number?” John asked.
Honey nodded and recited the number, and John punched it in, then handed the phone to Honey just as the sound of a siren wailing reverberated off the mountain.
Honey clenched the phone with a shaky hand. “Reed, this is Honey.”
A tense moment of silence passed. “Yes, I’m alive. What about Troy? Did you find him? Is he okay?”
Sam held her breath, and John placed his hand on her shoulder as they waited for his response.
Chapter Nineteen
“He’s fine,” Honey said, visibly relaxing as she disconnected the call. “Reed is taking care of him. He didn’t tell you because he was afraid you would try to take Troy away from him.”
The ambulance arrived, along with one of the other deputies, and John ushered them in, grateful they’d found Honey alive and that both the babies were safe.
Wexler stirred from unconsciousness, protesting and screeching as they pushed him toward the squad car and it squealed away.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Honey protested. “I just want to see my baby girl and hold her. I bet she’s grown in the last few days and I’ve missed it.”
John had had doubts about Honey being a good mother, but she obviously loved the little tykes and had done everything she could to protect them.
“You’re going to get checked out,” Sam told Honey, taking charge. “You’re injured and dehydrated, and John needs stitches.”
The paramedics loaded Honey and John into the ambulance. Sam followed in the car and met them at the hospital where John received stitches, and Honey was treated for cuts and bruises and received fluids.
Night was falling as they stopped by Miss Mazie’s to pick up Emmie. John watched the tearful reunion, a lump in his throat as Honey cradled the baby in her arms.
“Sam, I want you to be my babies’ godmother.”
Sam traced Emmie’s finger over her cheek, then kissed her forehead. “Of course I will, Honey. I love Emmie already. And I know I’ll love Troy, too.”
John felt oddly out of place, like a third wheel who’d stepped into a happy family’s private moment. He drove Sam, Honey and the baby back to Sam’s house, resigned to leave them alone, yet already dreading going back to his house.
Just as they made it to Sam’s front porch, a woman stepped from behind a cluster of pines. The shiny metal of a gun glinted beneath the moonlight, a gun trained on Honey and Sam. “You shouldn’t have come back here, Honey.”
SAM FROZE IN SHOCK, and Honey stiffened beside her, hugging the baby to her as Sally Hicks stared them down.
John held up a hand to caution Sally against coming closer. “What are you doing, Sally?”
“Honey called Dwayne,” Sally screeched. “She wants him back, that’s why she called. But she can’t have him, he’s mine!”
“Sally, calm down,” John said in a low, soothing tone.
“Please,” Sam murmured. “You don’t want to do this, Sally.”
“She dumped him and he came back here, and then he said he loved me. You can’t have him now, Honey. Yo
u can’t.” Hysteria made her voice shrill. “I won’t let you.” She raised the gun to fire, but a truck pulled up and careened to a stop, and Dwayne jumped back, terror-stricken when he spotted his wife with the gun. “Sally, what in the hell are you doing?”
“She can’t have you, Dwayne.” Sally waved the gun. “I don’t know what kind of power she has over men, but I won’t let her take you away.”
“I’m not trying to get back with Dwayne,” Honey said softly. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Yes, it is,” Sally cried. “You brought that baby here so Dwayne would take care of you.”
Sam moved slightly in front of Honey to shield her and Emmie, but Honey pushed Sam aside. “You’re always taking care of me, Sam. From now on, I’m taking care of myself and my babies.”
“Honey, be careful,” John warned. “You don’t want to get Emmie hurt.”
“Sally, don’t do this,” Dwayne pleaded. “I love you, not Honey. I want to be with you.”
“That’s right.” Honey clutched the baby protectively. “I did call Dwayne, but only because I needed money. He told me he loved you, Sally, and that he couldn’t help me.”
Sally’s hand shook and she was wavering. “Is that true, Dwayne?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” Dwayne inched closer, until he could touch her shoulder. “Put down the gun, and let’s go home. We’ll make our own baby.”
Sally burst into tears, but lowered the gun and dropped it to the ground. “You mean it, Dwayne?”
“Yes, of course I do,” he said then pulled her into his arms.
John strode down the steps, picked up the gun, then reached for his handcuffs. “Sally Hicks, you are under arrest—”
“No.” Honey handed Sam the baby, then joined him and Sally. “I’m not pressing charges.”
“But Honey,” John said. “She tried to kill you.”
“I’m not pressing charges.” She gave Sally a warm smile. “If I want people around here to forgive me and respect me, then I have to forgive them. Ain’t that right, Sally?”