She locked eyes with Daniel as the guard pounded on the portal at her back. The teen stood across from her, his thin face and reedy body so like Sam’s at that age. Even today, Sam was still thin enough to be Daniel’s older brother.
The pounding continued as a thought glimmered at the back of her mind.
There might be a way out of this after all.
27
“Pick up the phone, Sam. Pick up the goddamn phone,” Pippa chanted as she raced down the path toward staff parking.
By the time she’d opened the door of Daniel’s room to admit the security guard, her kernel of an idea had blossomed into a full-blown scheme. One dependent on, first, her brother being home, and second, him being willing to help. After barking orders to the startled guard to not let the teen out of his sight, for the boy’s protection, she’d retrieved Clay’s cell phone and hot-footed it out of the depressing, gothic juvenile home. She’d dialed Sam’s mobile number from memory and willed him to answer.
One ring, two…four…Oh God, please Sam. You have to be home. You’re my only hope.
Finally, on the fifth ring, as she despaired of him picking up, her prayers were answered.
“What?”
“Oh, thank God, Sam.”
She stopped talking as her throat closed against her panic. She bent at the waist, bracing a hand on her trembling knee as she struggled to force air back into her lungs
“Pippa? Is that you? Jesus, where are you? You were due at Jack and Jem’s twenty minutes ago,” Sam said. “With all the shit going on around here today with the funeral, we’re worried sick. Did you hear a bomb threat had been called in at the funeral home?”
“For God’s sake, Sam, shut up and listen.”
“Whoa! Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning? Since when do you—”
“Shut. The fuck. Up. Sam,” she gritted out.
Shocked silence came down the line as she straightened and jumped into her Jeep. Jabbing the key into the ignition, she turned it with a vicious twist, and the vehicle roared to life. Switching the phone to the other ear, she gunned the motor and reversed out of her parking space.
“The kids are in trouble. So is Clay. I need you to meet me at the corner of Maple and Granite Boulevard.”
“What do you mean the kids are in trouble?” Sam’s question reverberated loudly over the tinny mobile connection. In the background she heard raised voices. “Hey, you guys shut up. I can’t hear.”
“Please don’t ask questions. Just be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll explain it then. Call Jack and tell him to meet us too.”
“I’m at his house.”
“Thank God.” Hope surged to life. This might just work. Oh, please God, let it work. “Sam, I need you to borrow a ratty pair of jeans from Jack, and his Chuck Taylor high-tops. Mark’s old Army jacket, the one I gave Jack, is hanging in the hall closet. Bring that too. Oh, and a baseball cap.”
“Okay. But you’re worrying me, Pipsqueak. Do I need to call the cops?”
“No! God no!” Dizziness washed over her as she hyperventilated at the thought of Dewey suspecting anything. Her knuckles whitened when she gripped the wheel tight and swerved around a slow moving Cadillac. “Please, Sam. Just you and Jack.”
“We’re on our way. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Dropping the phone in her lap, she concentrated on keeping the Jeep on the road and refined her plan. Every detail had to be perfectly executed if she had any hope of everyone getting out without injuries.
Well, maybe it would be okay if Dewey were injured. A little. Her lips pursed into a tight seam and her jaw popped against the tension. The sick son of a bitch had made her tie her children’s hands. He’d threatened them all with a loaded gun. Her breath shortened as she remembered the sound of Dewey’s evil laugh when Clay had reluctantly frozen in the entry hall. The memory of the way the Clay’s forehead dimpled when Dewey had pressed his ugly, black gun against his temple made her stomach roll viciously.
Before she left to get Daniel, Clay had promised he’d protect Mason and Mia with his life. She prayed it didn’t come to that. She couldn’t live without any of them. Her children had been the center of her life for over six years. But her future lay in making their small family larger with Clay.
Turning left, she slowed her speed to match the posted residential limit as images tumbled through her head. At Elder Pointe while Clay observed his mother’s therapy sessions. The interest he took in Seeley’s progress and his expression as he sang along with his mother’s favorites. The sincere way he’d encouraged Seeley to take one more step while Pippa worked on gait training with her. His smile when he laughed with her children over dinner. Her daughter’s small hand in his large fist and Mason grinning while Clay lifted him up on broad shoulders. The way the golden flecks had shimmered in his beautiful green eyes the last time she’d lain in his arms.
The moment she’d said goodbye to him this morning and he’d told her, for the first time, he loved her.
A love she’d finally acknowledged she returned.
She pulled her Jeep to a halt behind Jack’s big black truck at the corner as her brothers jumped out and moved toward her, a united front.
Shoving the gearshift into park, she grabbed Clay’s phone and hopped out. Sam reached her first and pulled her into a bear hug, wrapping his strong arms around her back. The terror that had snared her in a suffocating embrace since Mia had opened the door to let Dewey in eased by a tiny margin.
She didn’t know what was happening back in her kitchen, where the man she loved was bound to a chair near her tied-up children. But with Sam and Jack’s help, she’d take one step closer to ending the ordeal.
Sam released her into Jack’s arms, demanding, “What the hell is going on, Pippa?”
“Dewey Evans showed up this morning with a gun—”
“Holy Christ!” Jack exclaimed. “Who is he?”
“He’s the Liberty Battalion protester I ran into after Ethan Wright’s funeral. Turns out, he’s the father of one of my clients at Woodward. He’s planning to use the protest at Roberto’s funeral as a cover for his real goal to break his kid out of detention. He showed up at my house this morning and made me tie up Clay and the twins to force me to help him.”
“So that son of a bitch is holding the twins and Clay hostage at gun point while you’ve been sent to pick the kid up?” Confusion lit up Sam’s face as he bent to peer into the Jeep. “Where is he? The kid, I mean.”
Wringing her hands, she blinked back tears before they could spill over. “The little shit wouldn’t come with me. Said he didn’t want dear old dad to ruin his life the way he’d ruined his mother’s.”
“But it’s okay to ruin your kids’ lives, or Clay’s?” Jack grabbed her arm and tried to steer her toward his truck. “Come on. We’re going back for him.”
“No.” She dug her heels in, jerking out of Jack’s grasp. “No, Jack. He shouldn’t have to sacrifice his future for kids he doesn’t know. As much as it pains me to say it, he’s right.”
“But, Pippa—”
She lifted a hand sharply, cutting of her brother’s protest, and stiffened her spine. “No buts, Jack. I won’t force him to help. That’s why I called the two of you.”
“So what’s your plan?” Sam asked, as he wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders. “How can we help?”
She drew a deep breath and met her brother’s gaze. “You’re going to be Daniel Robards.”
“That’s just asinine,” Jack exploded. “How are you going to pass a grown man off as a teenager?”
“Look at him, Jack.” She gestured toward Sam drawing Jack’s attention to him. “With Sam’s build and those clothes, he could be Daniel. They have the same physique and similar coloring. Sam works with teens everyday, so he’s best suited to walk like one of them, to make Dewey believe it really is his kid.”
A small grin flitted across Sam’s face as he shifted his posture into a typical teen slouch. Jack�
�s jeans were a size too big for Sam’s narrow hips, so they sagged in a perfect imitation of today’s style choice for teenage boys. With the oversized Army jacket and a ball cap pulled low over his brow, he could easily pass as a fourteen year-old, if Dewey didn’t look too closely.
She grasped Sam’s hand, trying to convince him, and herself. “Dewey Evans hasn’t seen Daniel in over two years. He’d expect him to be taller and heavier. Sam, it can work. It’s got to work.”
“I think we should call the police,” Jack insisted. “Let them handle it.”
“Absolutely not. Dewey has a gun, and he’ll use it. He warned me not to call anyone or he’d kill Clay and the kids. Shit, I’m not even supposed to have a cell phone, but I stole Clay’s before I left the house.” Her voice cracked with fear and she fought the lump growing at the back of her throat. The trembling of her lips got out of control, and she bit the lower one before continuing. “He made me tie them all up. They won’t be able to defend themselves. My children and Clay don’t stand a chance. Please, please will you help me?”
“I’m in,” Sam said, as if he didn’t care that he’d be putting his life in danger. He looked at Jack, who nodded. “How are we going to make this work?”
“We’re going to give Jack a head start so he can set up in the back yard to go in through the kitchen. Dewey will head to the front of the house when Sam and I walk in the door.” She worked her house key off the World’s Best Mom keychain the kids had given her last Mother’s Day and handed it to Jack. “Jack, cut through the hedge on the north side of the property. The pines will provide some cover and you can sneak up to the back door without being seen from that angle. Sam, as soon as we walk in, you head straight to the living room and sit. Make sure your back is to the door. I’ll stop Dewey from going to Sam long enough to give Jack time to get in, free Clay and get the kids out to safety.”
“But what are you going to do about Dewey’s gun? What if he suspects something’s up?” Concern deepened Sam’s voice.
“How the fuck should I know? We just have to make damn sure he doesn’t.”
“Okay, I can wing it. I’m good with that. You can’t be a high school teacher and not think fast on your feet.”
Jack put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Pippa, the news reported that authorities are investigating a suspected car bomb in front of the funeral home. Most of the police will be tied up with that, so we’re most likely are on our own anyway.”
“That’s the evil beauty of Dewey’s plan. The cops will be so busy sorting out that mess they won’t have time to deal with an escaped juvenile delinquent. Dewey was in Ranger training with Clay, so the man understands how to manipulate the situation to his advantage.”
A frown creased deep ruts into Jack’s forehead. “I hate the thought of you and Sam facing a man with a gun. There must be someone we could call for help.”
“You said it yourself, Jack. We’re on our own.” She smiled, a first in the past hour. “Remember, we have Clay. I trust him to keep us safe. Once he’s sure the kids are clear, I guarantee that Dewey will be his top priority. Sam and I will just have to stall the sick bastard until Clay can sneak up behind him.”
“I’ll be sure to get Mason and Mia out of the house fast so Clay can come and rescue you.”
“This will work, won’t it?” she asked, facing her brothers, drawing her shoulders to her ears at the skeptically hopeful tone of her voice. “Oh, fuck, it’s got to work!”
So many things could go wrong. Success depended on the timing of their plan. One wrong step, and lives would hang in the balance. Her children’s lives. The life of the man she loved. If they failed, the soundtrack of Pippa’s future would end on a discordant note…something she couldn’t fathom surviving. She suppressed a shudder.
Jack squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll make it work. But Pipsqueak? Why don’t you leave the swearing to us? It’s just wrong coming out of your mouth.”
28
Clay tried to keep his movement to a minimum, but it wasn’t easy. Sweat popped out on his body as he slipped the knife from his coat sleeve and sawed at the sturdy gray tape binding his wrists. After helping himself to a beer from Pippa’s refrigerator, Dewey had sprawled on the loveseat in the family room, where he could see his captives and the television. A local network affiliate had broken into the Saturday morning cartoon lineup with breaking news about a bomb threat at the funeral home.
Multitasking as best he could, Clay continued to saw his bonds, kept a wary eye on the asshole and his gun, throwing positive thoughts toward the twins and plotting a strategy for taking Dewey down once he was free. The minute Mason and Mia were out of harm’s way.
He worried about Pippa’s safety. She should be back at any moment with Daniel, and would walk straight into a hostage situation they might not get out of. As much as he wished she’d stay away, he knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening. Her kids…her life…sat in this kitchen with him, so she’d come back for them. He could only hope Dewey would take his son and leave as quickly as possible.
Not fucking likely.
Throwing a glance toward the kids, he calmed his thoughts. Mason had lifted his bound arms over Mia’s head and cuddled her near, resting her head on his shoulder. Eyes closed, her lips moved as she crooned a lullaby, the song barely audible over the volume of the TV set. At least she wasn’t whimpering any longer. The mournful, frightened sound had jabbed Clay’s heart like an old rusty saw. He cleared his throat discreetly, gaining the boy’s attention.
“You okay, buddy?” he rasped, attempting to keep his voice low, to stay off Dewey’s radar.
Nodding his head, Mason whispered, “Can you get us out of here?”
“I’m working on it.”
Mia’s eyes opened at the sound of her brother’s voice and Clay smiled at her.
“I know you guys aren’t going to like this, but I need you to separate a little. That way, when it’s time, it will be easier for you to run out the door. If you’re tangled up like a barrel of monkeys, you won’t be able to move quickly.”
In spite of the fear in her eyes, the corner of Mia’s mouth tilted up crookedly when he mentioned her favorite game, reminding him instantly of her mother’s sweet smile. He saw the promise of beauty in the child, and renewed his mental vow to ensure she grew up safe and sound. When they got out of this, he was going to insist that Pippa marry him and guarantee his right to turn Mia’s potential boyfriends away at the door.
As the kids pulled out of each other’s arms, Mia whispered, “When will Mommy be home?”
“Soon. She’s had plenty of time to get…” His whisper ground to a halt when movement near the trees in the backyard distracted him. From his seat near the kitchen table he watched in amazement as Jack Kerrigan crept low behind the magic trees. He would have been completely exposed if Clay hadn’t replaced the seedlings with much larger evergreens. Who would have guessed that his ploy to get Pippa into his bed might be the thing to help them out of this situation?
The twins must have realized Clay’s focus had been drawn to something behind them because they started to twist around in their chairs. Clay hissed at them to sit still, throwing a panicked look toward Dewey, who sat with his back to the windows.
Mason and Mia froze, then settled into their chairs, facing him.
Fortunately, the volume on the TV was almost as loud as it had been the last time Clay had been in the lounge at Elder Pointe. A bomb could go off and Dewey might just think he’d farted extra loud.
Tracking Jack’s furtive progress toward the back door with one eye, he kept the other on dipshit Dewey and his gun. He squashed the urge to grin, and worked harder on the duct tape around his wrists, determined to be ready when things heated up.
The sound of a key slipping stealthily into the keyhole on the back door happened just seconds before the front door crashed open. Dewey jumped from the chair he’d slumped in, the gun raised in his fist and he moved
into the kitchen as Pippa murmured to her charge to sit on the couch and not move.
Clay tensed, shifting to keep his nearly free hands out of Dewey’s sight as the heavyset man lumbered toward the front of the house, his footsteps echoing his progress.
The back door swung open silently and Jack slipped inside, his eyes riveted to Dewey’s retreating back. He beckoned the kids. “As quietly as you can, I want you to run next door to Stuart’s house. Have his mom call the police. Go!” Jack grunted softly, holding the door open.
The boy slid off his chair and held his finger to his lips as he turned with his sister to comply with his uncle’s direction. As soon as they scooted down the steps to the yard, Jack closed the door with a soft click and turned toward Clay, eyeing the slash of gray that bound his legs to the chair. He started forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a utility knife.
Clay gripped the plastic handle of the knife tightly to keep it from dropping and strained his arms against the binding, relying on brute strength to separate the last remaining threads of the tape.
Time to take control of the situation.
29
Pippa’s heart jackhammered painfully against her ribs when Dewey walked down the narrow hallway toward her. Sam had raced through the front door and slid into the living room, where he plopped down on the sofa, his back to the hall. He slouched low—leaving only the back of his head visible. With white headphones tucked into his ears and his head bobbing, he really did resemble an average teen. He kept his face trained on his lap, supposedly fiddling with the iPhone he held between his hands. Pippa knew he wasn’t listening to music but focused on the scene about to unravel behind him, waiting for a text from Jack telling him the kids were out of the house and Clay was in place, out of sight but ready to attack.
She held her hand up to stop Dewey before he entered the living room. She couldn’t let him walk around in front of Sam or her plan would be shot. At least, not until she was sure her children and Clay were safe. She sent up a silent prayer for success. All their lives depended on it.
Hearts in Harmony Page 23