Dancing with Fire

by Susan Kearney

  Becca stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?” Was he saying he wasn’t American? Had dual loyalties?

  “Just believe that I want to help you find Lia.”

  He sounded sincere, but she didn’t like it. Didn’t totally believe him. He sounded mysterious, strange. Almost as if he wasn’t himself.

  She glared at Shadee. I’m not what I seem. What was he trying to tell her? “Now who’s keeping secrets?”

  The back porch door opened, and Shadee didn’t answer her question. Becca turned her head, surprised to see Kaylin walking over, pulling up a chair. Even in the moonlight Becca read the worry on Kaylin’s face.

  “Did they call again?” Becca asked, sitting up in the hammock. Shadee sat up with her and kept an arm over her shoulder.

  “No. There’s something I need to share with you. Mr. Lansky—Dad’s attorney,” Kaylin added for Shadee’s sake, “told me that we have a grandmother.”

  “What?”

  “Mom’s mother is still alive.” Kaylin told Becca and Shadee the entire story of what had happened earlier that day. At first shocked and suspicious, Becca thought their grandmother had duped Kaylin to gain her sympathies, but as she heard the entire story, she changed her mind. Kaylin was sensitive and perceptive. If she believed her grandmother then Becca would, too. And as Kaylin explained, Becca slowly took in the news, and her hope of finding Lia increased. They had a wealthy grandmother, who’d offered to take them in. A grandmother who regretted the past, who’d suffered enough, according to Kaylin.

  “Do you think our grandmother might help us find Lia?” Becca asked.

  “I don’t know.” Kaylin sighed. “I’m worried that out of the belief she was helping, she might go directly to the authorities and blow everything.”

  “So why did you tell me?” Becca asked, for the first time realizing the tremendous weight on Kaylin’s shoulders.

  “If anything happens to me during the exchange, I thought you should know.”

  Kaylin was worried that if the kidnappers called and she had to bring the formula in exchange for Lia, she might not come back. Becca reached out to her sister and took her hand. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

  Because Becca was very glad she didn’t have to make the decision.

  Kaylin turned to Shadee. “You still willing to help us?”

  He nodded.

  “Helping us could be dangerous. My father is dead, my sister’s been taken. I hate putting anyone else in danger.”

  Shadee stood. “I’ll do my best.”

  27

  AFTER A NIGHT dealing dope, Billy hoped to return home before morning, no one the wiser for his absence. And if he sneaked back into the house early enough, Lia wouldn’t even have to cover for his absence. But he’d have to hurry; it would be daylight soon.

  Meanwhile, luck seemed to be going his way. After he’d left Drano without incident, he’d broken up the pot into ounces. And his other business had gone down smooth as sensimilla smoke. With the pot quality high, he’d had no trouble moving the weed or getting his price. If his luck held, he’d be out of debt and danger by daylight.

  And he’d smartened up. He no longer walked around with his cash or his stash. Nope. He’d hidden it. So if the worst happened, and someone ripped him off, it wouldn’t be for the full amount. He had an econ teacher who’d called that “hedging one’s resources” and realized that maybe some of the stuff he’d learned in school might be somewhat useful after all.

  He had one more stop on his list before dawn. If he could hit Jimmy Shaddack’s before his parents woke up, Billy would have time to take a breather. The guy had appropriated a garage behind his parents’ house for his bedroom. And Jimmy usually hung out with his friends and played loud music until dawn. But the guy was unpredictable.

  Billy had called before coming over, and Jimmy, already wasted, had assured him he’d caged his Rottweilers. So when Billy heard the loud barks, he didn’t back off.

  He parked his bike by the fence and headed down the side yard. The houses sat close together in this neighborhood, and in the side yards, the roofs blocked out the street lights as well as the moonlight. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and mosquitoes buzzed. At the reek of the dog kennel, Billy held his breath and walked faster.

  Jimmy’s parents raised Rottweilers, and the cage needed hosing. Damn. No wonder Jimmy smoked dope. Who wouldn’t prefer the sweet aroma of weed to the stench of dog shit?

  At the sound of a low growl, Billy jumped and ignored the hair on his neck rising. He kept going. Next time Jimmy would meet him at the front fence, or he’d refuse to sell to him. So what if the garage was more private? This place stank. It was dark. Spooky.

  A spider web caressed his face, and he ripped it away as he reached the backyard. Although the pounding of the heavy metal music reassured him, the howling, growling, and barking dogs had him on edge. A huge male lunged at the fence and probably would have ripped out his throat if the chain link hadn’t held. A motion detector turned on the side light, and Billy halted. But Jimmy’s parents were either gone or oblivious to the racket.

  Rounding the corner, he headed toward the garage. Motorcycles, several cars, and a truck had pulled through the back lot and parked on the property. He should have come that way. But he’d never been here before, just clicked with the dude at school. He bragged a bit too much about his extracurricular activities for Billy’s tastes, but, hey, no one was perfect. No one was outside in the yard, either. Inside, the blackout shades were down. Billy hurried to the door and knocked. No one answered.

  Why would they? How could they hear his knock above the decibel level? He’d be lucky if his head didn’t ring for a week after he left. He couldn’t imagine why the neighbors hadn’t complained.

  Billy banged harder on the door. Just as someone opened it, and the whiff of pot hit him full force, Billy caught sight of a sheriff’s cruiser, red and blue lights darkened and heading down the street.

  “Cops!” Billy shouted, spun, and raced back toward his bike. The dogs lunged against the fence, but he kept running. He had to get out fast. Prayed the deputies weren’t raiding the place from both sides.

  As he ran, he debated on whether or not to ditch the ounce. But he couldn’t afford the loss. He had to risk a getaway. Besides, his fingerprints were all over the plastic bag. If he threw it away, they’d find it and charge him anyway.

  Best to just run like hell.

  Jimmy must have shut down the music, because the noise stopped. Billy had made it past the motion detectors and yard lights and had almost reached his bike when the blue and red lights of the cop cars behind him flashed.

  Surely he had to be far enough away that they couldn’t see him? Two cop cars converged on the garage. Now what?

  Billy’s hands shook on his handlebars. He could try and go slow. Look innocent. But what kid on the street at 4 A.M. was innocent? He could say he had a newspaper route, but if they caught him, they’d check his story. And he had an idea his fleeing alone might be good enough reason for them to search him.

  Damn it. He should have listened to Lia. She’d told him he’d been heading for trouble. Getting high was cool. But it wasn’t worth jail time, a record, or getting kicked out of the Danner house.

  Heart pounding, Billy sprinted alongside his bike, then hopped on. If he cut through a neighbor’s yard and headed to the next street, he should be fine. He pedaled hard, and after his run, his lungs strained for air. Another bad thing about smoking. If he made it through this weekend, he was going to quit.

  Billy hit a crack in the sidewalk and almost tumbled. Good balance saved him. That and the adrenaline that kept his muscles pumping despite his fatigue.

  Huffing and puffing, he cut through an unfenced yard. Momentum carried him through the front. After he slowed, he hopped off the bike and pushed. His c
alves cramped, his chest hurt, and he had a massive stitch in his side, but he kept going.

  Shouts behind him, as well as neighbors waking and turning on the lights to see what was happening, spurred him on. The last thing he needed was someone calling 9-1-1 to report a kid fleeing through their yard.

  Finally, he made it to the next street. But he still didn’t feel safe. If the cops caught Jimmy, and they must have, Jimmy might sell out Billy to lighten his own problems. Billy could still be in big trouble. Sheesh, if the cops just showed up at home to ask questions, Kaylin would freak. Even if they didn’t find anything . . . she’d assume he was guilty since she seemed to know when he was high.

  Don’t panic.

  It would be his word against Jimmy’s. And he hadn’t sold Jimmy anything. He hadn’t even showed him the goods. He couldn’t be arrested for knocking on a door.

  Besides, Billy had hidden his stash and the cash where the cops would never find it. He’d been careful, and it looked as if he’d gotten away. Sweat streamed off his body, and he stank almost as bad as the dog pen. He didn’t think he’d ever needed a shower as badly in his life as he did right then.

  But he couldn’t go home.

  Not until he’d sold this last ounce. Not until he had the money to pay off his debts.

  Not only was Billy running out of darkness and time, he’d run out of buyers. It wasn’t like he bragged about his activities at school. He kept a low profile. Only sold by referral.

  So his list of safe choices on where to sell his last ounce tonight had diminished. He needed to stop, rest, clear his head. He just couldn’t think straight—he was too nervous, too hyped, too worried about recovering his collateral.

  Maybe he’d pull over on the next street and roll a joint. Just one or two tokes, and he’d be good to go.

  Sheesh. He’d evaded arrest. Gotten away clean.

  He owed it to himself to celebrate.

  28

  LIA DIDN’T WANT the van to stop. Stopping meant her journey had come to an end. Stopping meant the men would do . . . whatever the hell they wanted. And she had no idea if they were driving into the woods to rape or murder her. As frightened as she was, no one could stay at the highest state of terror forever. Her body ever so slowly began to unwind. The trembling stopped. Either she’d become accustomed to the fear or had accepted that she could do nothing to change her fate. No. She hadn’t accepted that. She’d fight. But with her hands tied and her eyes blinded, she couldn’t have harmed a flea.

  So her stomach remained twisted and tense. Her heart still pounded too hard. But she’d twisted about enough to dislodge the headset so that it no longer blocked her hearing and started to take in the sounds around her. Despite the blindfold, she could already identify the men by their voices. The injured guy spoke in grunts and groans. The leader, the one who sat next to her in the back, barked short commands in a language she didn’t understand or recognize.

  The driver possessed the solid assurance of a soldier while the fifth guy seemed younger and alternately elated, then scared. She’d given up trying to figure out where they were taking her. Or why.

  She needed a bathroom real bad. Since she’d freed a corner of the tape from her mouth, she could speak, but hesitated to do so. She didn’t want to alert them to her tiny victory. After all, she might get the chance to scream.

  So far, they hadn’t stopped. But maybe they’d be careless enough to push her down and drive through at a fast-food joint. No. They wouldn’t. But maybe they’d stop for gas. And when they opened the door, she would scream and scream.

  If only her bladder would wait.

  But when they finally stopped, she didn’t hear the sounds of pumping gas or people talking. Or the sound of traffic. It was so quiet, they must be out in the country. She didn’t hear any airplanes or dogs barking.

  She breathed in through her nose but didn’t smell anything that would help her figure out where they’d driven. One of the men dragged her from the van, and she stumbled, her bare feet hurting as her toes came down on a rock. They made her walk for a long while over uneven ground that cut up her feet when she stepped on rocks, sticks, and debris, but the worst part was not knowing what would happen next.

  She tried not to cry out from the pain and told herself they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to kill her. They needed her alive. She thought about struggling but didn’t want to give them a reason to hurt her any more than they already had.

  When they stopped, she heard nothing beyond her own harsh breathing. It was quiet. Too quiet. And despite her exhaustion, she tensed. Began to shake.

  A man pushed her to her knees.

  She hit the ground hard. She heard a gun cock.

  Oh, God. She’d been wrong. They didn’t need her alive. They were going to kill her.

  Lia didn’t want to die. She was only a kid. It wasn’t fair.

  When warm liquid trickled down her leg, she was too scared to care that the men were laughing. Too scared to move, she braced for death.

  29

  THAT SHE COULD do nothing for Lia tore at Kaylin. Her sister and Billy had to be terrified. For the tenth time in the last half hour, Kaylin checked her watch, wondering how long it would take Shadee to contact the authorities and return to the house. Her gaze scooted to Sawyer’s phone, which sat on the table between them. Still green. Good to go. But neither her cell nor his repaired land line had rung.

  After Sawyer had finished his data entry and fallen asleep at the kitchen table, Kaylin covered him with a jacket. She didn’t have the heart to wake him. At least one of them would be thinking with a clear head. Even now, she wondered if she’d made a terrible mistake. Had sending Shadee to the cops been a good idea? Should she have contacted her grandmother? Should she have hung up on the kidnappers?

  Any mistake could cost Lia and Billy . . . everything. Dammit. Who were these people who had murdered her father, invaded her home, and kidnapped her sister and Billy? What right did they have to rob and steal and murder? Why didn’t they just work for what they wanted like decent folk?

  Randy padded up and leapt into Kaylin’s lap. Poor little guy. He didn’t know what was happening, but he sensed the tension in people. Kaylin scratched behind his ears, and he circled and settled with his snout between his paws.

  She stared at the phone, willing it to ring. Hours had passed. Becca was still outside in the hammock on the back porch. Mitzy had taken the bourbon to her room. And Kaylin sat at the table thinking that if she didn’t get Lia and Billy back safe, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

  Half a dozen times, she reached for the phone to call Shadee. Each time, she stopped. Suppose they were watching? Or had tapped Sawyer’s phone? And even if the authorities cooperated, what could they do for Lia when Shadee could hardly give them any new clues to go on?

  Doing nothing, second guessing herself, not knowing if Lia and Billy were okay, began to drive her insane. She had to do something. Search for them. But she didn’t know where to look.

  Maybe she should have jumped in the car and chased after the kidnappers. But if she had, they might have killed her, too.

  Stop it.

  She could do her sister and Billy no good if she kept blaming herself. Second guessing herself.

  The kidnappers would call. And she and Sawyer would hand over the fake documents and get the kids back. Kaylin had to believe the plan would work. She had to.

  And if the kidnappers didn’t call, she and Sawyer would find her father’s old friend Quinn. She wanted to know why the man owned half her father’s patents, and if he’d gotten greedy and now wanted them all. Kaylin had already left a message on her grandmother’s private investigator’s phone. Becca and Shadee could follow up. If he’d been watching the house, maybe he’d seen something.

  Shadee returned just before dawn. He slipped into
the kitchen, and Kaylin fixed him a cup of coffee. “It is done. The FBI and the Secret Service—”

  “Secret Service?” Kaylin looked at him in surprise.

  “They assist in kidnapping cases. So does the FDLE. Your cell phone is being monitored. No one official will contact you. And the information is being kept on a need-to-know basis.”

  “And if the kidnappers call? If they demand a ransom?”

  “No one will interfere until after you, Lia, and Billy are safe,” Shadee assured her. “Just make sure you keep your cell phone with you at all times. There’s a GPS inside so the authorities can track you.”

  “Thanks.” Kaylin reached out and squeezed his hand. “We really appreciate your help.”

  Shadee slipped back out to Becca, and Kaylin watched the sunrise and hoped Lia was somewhere watching it come up, too. Although the idea of food made her stomach roil, she cooked breakfast. No one ate much, not even Shadee, who promised to stay with Mitzy and Becca while Kaylin and Sawyer drove to find Quinn, whom they’d found online. Kaylin had plugged the address into her phone and had the directions plotted. She was relieved to learn that Quinn Productions wasn’t far from Riverview and decided to check him out.

  They carried their cell phones and the data with them on a flash drive in case the kidnappers called. Sawyer drove, and Kaylin navigated—not that he needed much directing until they reached back roads. They turned off Highway 301, drove past a few subdivisions, and then hit an industrial park.

  “Third building on the right,” she directed. The park was a mix of businesses, including a carpet cleaning service, auto mechanics, a boat trailer manufacturer, a roofing company, a martial arts studio, and a vending machine stocker.

  Sawyer parked in front of a Quinn Productions banner that hung over a door. The lack of a permanent sign was the first clue that this wasn’t a high-class operation.

  They knocked on the door, and a burly bouncer type in a gray muscle shirt and baggy shorts opened it and loomed over Kaylin, blocking her view of the interior. “You’re late. Get inside and get your clothes off.” He moved aside to let her pass.