New Years SEAL Dream: A Bone Frog Brotherhood Novella

by Sharon Hamilton

  The phone went dead.

  Chapter 9

  The women came over to help Gretchen take a place on the couch. Someone brought her a tall glass of ice water. Several hands lifted her legs and massaged her feet while Kate massaged her shoulders and neck. Although it felt heavenly, part of the closeness was beginning to feel oppressive. Gretchen wanted to scream, tear something up, get a sledgehammer and make holes in the wall, cut all her hair off and put on war paint. She was furious with Joanie, her ex, and even more furious with herself for even agreeing to leave the girls alone with such irresponsible people. She knew better. She feared this could happen, and she’d been right.

  It was the last time she’d not trust her intuition. The sweet look Clover gave her as she stepped into Joanie’s car might be the last time she saw her lovely daughter. She leaned forward over her knees, covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

  “Shhh. Shhh, Gretchen. Don’t despair yet, sweetie, but I sure know how you feel.” Kate was pulling her hair from her neck, rubbing the top of her spine and soothing her with reassurances.

  “Just goes to show you big boobs and brains don’t go together!”

  Most of the group laughed. Trace shared a cautious smile with Coop. Kate hugged her from behind. “That’s my big sister. You’ll have the chance to tell her so, and I’ll be right there to be your second in case you want to take a punch at her.”

  “You’d think Tony would have more of a clue than to leave picking up our daughter to such an airhead. She was probably having her nails done.”

  “Or getting a spray on tan. She lives in Portland, remember?” answered Kate.

  Trace knelt at her side, kissing her palms and then placing his hands tenderly at the sides of her face. “Baby, Libby is making the arrangements now to get you home. I’m going to go with you to see if I can help out somehow.”

  “Thank you, Trace, but that’s not necessary.”

  Cooper piped up. “Gretchen, you’re not going to let your ex and his girlfriend orchestrate a payoff, and return of Clover. And we have to involve the police.”

  “No!”

  “Honey, you need them,” interrupted Trace. “They have training and experience with these things.”

  “I don’t trust them with the life of my daughter.” She scanned the group of people assembled around her. “But thank you all. So grateful for your support.”

  “Not enough, Gretchen,” said Kate sternly. You have to let these guys do what they do all the time. They want to come. Let us help you, Gretchen. Think about Clover.”

  That turned her stomach and she melted again into a series of sobs. Trace pulled her over towards him, while he slipped onto the couch.

  “Let it all out, Gretchen. Believe me, there’s no fuckin’ way we’re going to let anything happen to Clover. We’re going to need a little more information, so we’ll coach you for your next call with these guys. But let us help figure out where she is and see if we can get her safely returned. We’ve already started the process. I promise we’ll do everything in our power to bring her back to you.”

  Gretchen took strength from his steel blue eyes, so steady and unwavering. He wore his conviction in his face. As she looked up at Coop, Fredo and several of the other SEALs they bore the same expression.

  “Let us help you, Gretchen,” Coop asked again. “Libby’s found some tickets for a non-stop direct to Portland. Tyler and Ollie and the others will stay behind with the women. But we’re your army, little sister. The four of us.”

  “I’m older than you are Coop.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled. We’re going!” Coop grinned, patting the top of her head.

  She barely had time to say anything further before she heard him bark some orders. “Okay gents, let’s get to packing.”

  Gretchen suddenly realized she hadn’t called her parents. “I’ve got to call mom,” she said as she looked at Kate.

  “Do it.”

  Her dad picked the phone up. “Sweetie! Oh God, Gretchen, it’s all over the news. Have you heard from Clover?”

  So much for keeping it private, Gretchen thought.

  “How did the news get it?” she asked.

  “Tony did an interview at the arena. He begged for them to return his daughter. You know Tony—”

  “Well that’s just great because they asked that no one contact the police. Leave it to Tony to screw things up.” She squeezed Trace’s hand. “Dad, we’re coming to Portland, catching a flight out of Lihue at noon. Can I talk to the girls?”

  “You Mom took them to the store for a little distraction. They’ll be back soon.”

  “Tell them I’m coming home. And that I love them. Thank God you have them. And give mom a hug.”

  “Will do, honey. Anything else you want us to do now? Are they asking for money? Have you been able to talk to Clover? She must be scared out of her mind.”

  “She’s holding up. She’s a tough kid. And she knows I’m coming. I’m bringing some reinforcements. Some of Tyler’s buddies are flying home with me.”

  “Thank God. That’s what we need is a bunch of Navy SEALs right now. Well, you let us know what the plan is, and we’ll do whatever. You need money, we’ll try to raise some cash.”

  “No. Don’t do anything yet. But if the police contact you, I need a name, okay?”

  “You got it, kid. Have a safe flight home. Your mother will be relieved we heard from you.”

  Kate leaned over Gretchen’s shoulder and called out, “Hi Dad. Love you. We’ll see you in a few days.”

  Gretchen disconnected the call and sat there staring at the empty dial while the beehive of activity was happening all around her.

  Trace lay her back on the couch—the same one that she’d slept with him all night long, and, just like this morning’s early miracle hours, his tender kisses left her gasping for air. She wished she could wake up and find that this had all been a very bad dream.

  “Stay here for a minute or two. Just close your eyes, and then we’ll get you sorted and we’ll be on our way, okay?” Trace said with a pat to her head and a tender kiss.

  She nodded. But then the sounds of Clover’s terrified voice echoed in her ears and her eyes filled with tears. Before she could wipe them free, Trace was there, kissing her, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs, whispering for her not to worry.

  He stood. She took one long look at this tall hero with hands the size of basketballs—and she knew about those—but with a heart full of passion, showing no fear, only total devotion to the mission at hand. That was when she began to hope that perhaps, if anyone could help her, Trace and his friends could.

  She finally reached Joanie at the Lihue airport while she was standing in line for security.

  “Oh God, Gretchen I’m so sorry. Tony and I feel so awful,” the bombshell blathered. The more she talked and angrier Gretchen felt.

  “Save it. Where the hell is Tony?”

  “He’s at practice. You know he can’t miss practice.”

  “His daughter has been kidnapped for Christ sakes!”

  “Yes, yes, they called us. Tony made a plea on TV for her safe return. The police said it was best to get it out there to the general public.”

  Gretchen wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. “Didn’t they tell you not to involve the police?”

  “I—I don’t know. He talked to them. But apparently some reporters were there at the gym when he got the call. Coach said to take it out on the court, so he made his statement and after he’s going down to the police station. Are you coming home or staying in Hawaii. Tony didn’t—”

  “Geez, Joanie. What kind of a mother do you think I am? We’re at the airport.” She felt Trace’s firm hand on the back of her neck, massaging her, bringing her energy and letting her feel the closeness and warmth of his body standing like a rock behind her. She saw some of the other passengers look her way and knew from their reaction that Trace had stared them down. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. Just
worried. How did this happen, Joanie?”

  “I had a small accident on the way over to the school. I didn’t have Clover’s cell phone number. Stupid, I know.”

  Gretchen realized that Clover probably still had her cell with her. She turned to face Trace and let him know, but was ushered to the Homeland Security Inspector. She put her phone to her shoulder and rummaged for her ticket and her license.

  “Turn off your phone, ma’am,” the Inspector commanded.

  “I’ve got to go, Joanie. Have Tony call me. I’ll be boarding in a little over an hour.”

  “Yes, yes. No problem. I’ll get him to call as soon as I can.”

  “Cell phone off!” barked another homeland agent just as she put the phone away. Trace showed his license and ticket and waited for Gretchen to find hers. They made their way through the scanning. Gretchen had to go back a second time because she had left her cell in her pocket.

  Finally at the gate, she sat and let out a big sigh. Trace was quick to cover her shoulders with his long arm. His fingers laced along her scalp above her ear, pressing her face to his chest as he continued to rub. The feel of his strength, the steadiness of his hands and the sound of his deep breathing was all she could think about.

  They boarded the plane and soon were off into the big blue skies above the Pacific Ocean, Hawaiian music playing in the background. On any other day, she would have welcomed it, but today, the music sounded mocking and dangerous. The vacation had turned into her greatest nightmare.

  “Sleep, Gretchen. That’s all you can do right now. Save your strength for when we land, honey. I’m right here.” Trace’s soothing words helped. He adjusted her seat back to match his, and she fell asleep against his muscled arm, holding his left hand between hers.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as the plane landed, several of the Team’s cell phones rang. Gretchen’s did as well. Trace noted the number as being the kidnapper when she showed him the dial.

  “Let it go to voicemail until we have some privacy.”

  Gretchen agreed and turned off the ring. When she checked back, no voicemail had been left.

  Gretchen’s SUV was parked in long-term parking and the four SEALs loaded the suitcases while Trace took charge of driving. Gretchen sat shotgun up front. Trace noticed Fredo hadn’t changed his blue Hawaiian shirt.

  “What?” Fredo was giving Trace a dose of attitude.

  “Well, you’re right about one thing,” inserted Coop. “We should still be on vacation. But hell if I don’t actually get excited now that we’ve got something to do.”

  Trace considered Coop’s comments, and he also began to enjoy the pulse of a Brotherhood op coming up. The wrinkle and complication was that it involved someone he cared about very much. But then, he always cared about the people he was trying to rescue. It was not usually in the good old US of A.

  Armando leaned over the seat as Trace exited the parking lot toward the freeway. “Your dad have any guns, Gretchen? Big guns?”

  “My parents were hippies, Armando. Sorry, no guns, but I have a .38” she returned.

  Trace nodded and gave her a wink. “You know how to use it?”

  “I took a class, and had some practice. Dad insisted.”

  “He sounds like a good man. Every woman should know how to shoot.”

  “We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got, then,” Armando sighed.

  “I’ve got the cell phone data. Registered to a Casa de Flores.” Coop said as he examined his notebook.

  “Never heard of it,” said Gretchen.

  “We can’t find an address with that business listing either.”

  “Oh, one other thing, we have a locator on Clover’s cell phone. Didn’t think about it until we were boarding. And then I forgot. I’m so sorry.” Gretchen frowned.

  “Not a problem. Write her number down,” Coop said as he handed her a small spiral notebook.

  Trace decided to reveal he had packed a sidearm.

  “We all do, Trace,” answered Fredo. I never go anywhere, even on vacation, without some protection.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to use them. But at least we have something,” mumbled Armando.

  They arrived at Gretchen’s home, on a hillside overlooking the Willamette River, and the lower districts bordering the Columbia River beyond. Rain was threatening, and the late afternoon was quickly evaporating.

  They parked around the rear of the two-story structure and Gretchen showed them in through the kitchen. With the suitcases brought into the living room, Gretchen got to work making some sandwiches and heating up some soup she had in the pantry.

  “Should I attempt to call them back?” she asked as she brought over a plate of fruit.

  “Trust me, for a million bucks, they’ll call,” said Armando.

  “I’d try to call. Let them know you’re back in town,” offered Trace. “And try your ex again. See what the updates are, if any.”

  “Good idea,” Coop agreed, with his phone to his ear.

  “And I’m texting Kate now to let her know we’re here. She can let my folks know.”

  Then Gretchen tried to redial the number the stranger had called from and it came up with a disconnect. “No luck there.”

  “So, let’s discuss what we know,” said Trace. Gretchen sat next to him, texting her sister.

  Coop was walking toward the hallway, talking to his contact.

  “She’s in a warehouse type structure,” said Armando.

  “It’s cold. Probably no heat in the building. We got a business like a wholesale florist I’m guessing from the name,” added Fredo.

  “I’m wondering how they knew where she’d be,” added Gretchen.

  “They’ve been following them? Following the girls?” asked Trace.

  “You know, something must have given them the idea. I’m guessing this isn’t a big operation, more like the crime of opportunity,” Armando added.

  “Maybe they thought they’d get Gretchen as well. Perhaps they got lucky when Clover was left all alone? That type of thing Armando?”

  His Team brother shrugged. “Maybe. Just speculation. But I’m thinking something planted the idea this would be a good idea.”

  “You check your messages for anything from the police, Gretchen?” Trace asked her.

  She ran to the kitchen and pushed the replay on the answering machine and wrote down the detective’s name who left her a message some three hours ago. “I’m going to call him right now.”

  Before she could do so, her cell rang. She held up the screen, showing the SEALs it was the same number.

  “Mrs. Sanders. You are back in Oregon now?”

  “Yes.” She pushed speakerphone so they could all hear.

  “Good. So we have spoken to your husband.”

  “Ex.”

  “Ex-husband then. And he has indicated he will be working on raising the necessary cash. I suggest you coordinate with him. But he has violated one of my rules about the police and the press.”

  “Yes, I just found out about that. We have not been able to talk.”

  “This is what he says. I am not happy. So, I have raised the bar to one million five hundred thousand dollars. This is non-negotiable.”

  Gretchen gasped, but Cooper moved his palms in a level single plane, motioning her to be calm. Trace saw her stuff down her anger and her growing fear.

  “Y-yes. I’m listening.”

  Good girl, Gretchen, Trace thought.

  “He gave permission for you to bring the money to the designated drop off spot.”

  Gretchen rolled her eyes and stared back at him. Trace shrugged and motioned for her to continue the dialog.

  Cooper held up his notebook, on which he had written, ask to talk to Clover again.

  “Okay, we’ll work that out. But I want to talk to Clover again to make sure she’s okay.”

  “I will give you exactly one minute when I’m done. So, tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock, I will call you back and you will
bring the money to the spot I’ll designate. You’ll only have a few minutes to get there. Are you less than thirty minutes to Clover’s school?”

  “Yes.”

  “The drop won’t be there, but I will leave further instructions for you at the school.”

  “H-how will I know?” Gretchen asked.

  “It will be explained tomorrow. Now, you would like to speak with Clover?”

  “Yes, please.”

  They all heard the teen’s fragile voice start in with the same refrain she’d had earlier, “Mom, when are you coming to get me?”

  “Soon, baby.” She looked at Coop for further instructions since he was writing furiously in his notebook. Gretchen read it over quickly and then repeated the instructions he’d written. “Did it take more than a few minutes before they arrived at where they’re holding you?”

  The sound of the phone dropping gave Trace the chills.

  “Mrs. Sanders, you were told not to make tricks with me. I am going to be very angry if you don’t behave. It’s going to be a long evening. You don’t want me anywhere near your daughter when I get angry.”

  “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Your full compliance is required, Mrs. Sanders.”

  The last sentence was drowned out by the sounds of a locomotive blast in the background, and then what appeared to be a rumbling echo as the train was accelerating. All the SEALs stood straight and took notice.

  “No more tricks. Tomorrow at eleven then.”

  “Sir, please, may I—?”

  But the phone had already gone dead.

  “We need a Portland map of the rail lines. You have something like that here, Gretchen?” asked Coop.

  “No, but I can get it online.” She pulled out her laptop from her carry-on bags and began the internet search. Finding the page she wanted, she turned the computer to face Coop and Trace, who studied it side-by-side.

  “Wish we had Tyler today. He grew up here in Portland,” muttered Fredo.

  “I think we have what we need,” said Trace. “Look. There’s a station house, and it’s a hub. We’ve got what appears to be about four sets of tracks all parallel there. The only other one I see is downtown Portland.” Trace stood up. “Wouldn’t we have heard cars and activity?”