by Anne Hope
She nodded. “Come with me.”
“No. I have to stay up here.” He needed to feel he was doing something, even if all he could do was stand vigil.
“Afraid I’ll get us lost?” Martin tossed over his shoulder.
“Or fall overboard,” Zach shot back.
“I think the probability of that happening increases exponentially if you stick around.”
“All the more reason for me to stay.”
Becca shook her head and rose. “I’ll leave you two to your petty squabbles. My fingers are just about ready to fall off.”
As soon as Becca disappeared below deck, Martin shot Zach a resentful stare. “She’s too good for you,” he told him without a hint of remorse.
“Maybe so, but she’s mine.” Zach’s tone was unmistakably proprietary. “And I’m keeping her this time.”
Martin flinched.
The wind howled as the boat gained speed. Zach returned to the helm to watch the hull slice through the waves. “I’m curious. How come you never made a move on her when we broke up?”
Martin was silent for a long time, and Zach wondered if he’d heard him. Then he finally answered in a steady voice that belied the stiff set of his jaw. “I know how to hedge my bets. I never stood a chance with her. She’ll always be hung up on you—any fool can see that—and I’m not the kind of guy who can settle for second best.”
Everything suddenly made sense. “It’s just killing you, isn’t it?”
Martin angled a quizzical look his way.
“That Liam and Lindsay named me guardian instead of you.” The miniature yacht hit an unexpected swell, and Zach grabbed hold of the hull for support. The fine drizzle turned to a downpour. Impenetrable blackness rolled in from the north to shroud the sky. “That’s why you’ve been sniffing around us like a dog in heat.”
Martin chuckled, but the sound held no amusement. “You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” He shook his head, steered the boat westward. “Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I’ve been sniffing around because these three are all I’ve got left of my kid brother?” His hands tightened around the rudder, but his expression gave nothing away. “I was never really there for Liam. I always had some big deal to close, the next plane to catch. I thought I had all the time in the world to make it up to him. I was wrong.”
He aimed a steely glare Zach’s way. “You may not think much of me, but I’m no idiot. I make it a point to learn from my mistakes. I’m going to be a part of these kids’ lives, whether you like it or not.”
It looked like Martin had finally grown a backbone, and resentment briefly morphed into respect. Before Zach could analyze the touchy-feely moment, the misty outline of land caught his eye. Anticipation and anxiety dueled along his nerves. “Let’s find them first.” His stomach muscles gathered in a tight knot. “We’ll work out the details later.”
It was night again. Noah could tell by the dark wall that stretched beyond the window. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds, and it looked like someone had thrown a black cape over the building. He listened for the sound of footsteps, but all he heard were crickets and rain. The hamburgers remained untouched in the paper bags. Kristen had dug out the toy—a small, stuffed bear—and now hugged it to her chest.
Her breathing had gotten worse.
At the top of the barrel stack, Noah stood working the nail again, as he had most of the day. His fingers had begun to bleed. Thankfully, Neil Hopkins hadn’t noticed when he’d brought them the stupid burgers.
“We’re never going back, are we?” Tears leaked from the corners of his sister’s eyes, and she rubbed them away with her fists. It was late, and they were both exhausted. “We’re never going back home. Like Mom and Dad. Do you think Mr. Hopkins took them, too? Will he bring us to them now?” she asked between a cough and a wheeze. “Bring us to Mom and Dad. I miss them.” Her words were choppy, her breath short. Panic was setting in, and she was babbling.
Noah didn’t answer. He just kept working the nail. The tips of his fingers burned. A sob expanded in his chest, but he swallowed it. Kristen couldn’t see him cry. She’d totally freak out if she did.
“It’s dark outside. Why is it so dark?”
“It’s night.”
“It wasn’t so dark before.”
“That’s because the moon was out.” Now it had disappeared behind the clouds. Rain pelted the glass.
“I d-d-don’t like the dark.” Her next breath hissed out of her. “It s-s-scares me.”
He hated the dark, too. It suffocated him, like when he sometimes slept with a blanket over his face. The thought of being trapped in the dark forever, with nothing to see or smell or hear, terrified him.
“Do y-you think Mom—” she coughed, “—and Dad are scared of the dark?”
The tears punched at his eyes, lumped in his throat. “’Course not. Mom and Dad weren’t scared of anything.”
“Even dying?”
Noah’s stomach kicked him in the ribs. Kristen’s eyes had grown so big and so deep, it hurt to look into them. “They’re not dead,” he lied, feeling beaten, like an old man. “They’re just sleeping.”
She hugged herself, squeezed that silly pink bear. “They’re never going to wake up, are they?”
He wanted to tell her what she needed to hear, but the lie wouldn’t come this time.
Tears spilled over her cheeks. “Are we g-g-going to die, too?”
“No.” The word tore out of his chest. “Do you trust me?” She gave him a weak nod. “Good, ’cause I’m getting us out of here.”
Kristen stood on wobbly legs and began to climb up the mountain of barrels.
“Careful,” he told her.
When she reached the top, she surprised him by wrapping her thin arms around his neck and sliding in for a hug. “I love you, Noah.”
His throat suddenly felt scratchy, as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. “Yeah, me too.”
Then the nail slid free. With a swell of triumph, he shoved at the window until it burst open and a cool mix of wind and rain rushed in to soak their faces.
“You did it!” Kristen’s wide smile filled him with pride.
“Told you.”
After pocketing the nail, he clutched her by the waist and lifted her to freedom. They were in some kind of basement because the ground was at the level of the window. Kristen didn’t have far to fall. The black, hungry night instantly swallowed her as she crawled away. He began to climb out after her, but his chain snagged on the latch and broke. His father’s silver ring clattered to the ground. He couldn’t leave it. He had to go back for it. It was all he had left of his dad.
“Be right there,” he called to his sister, then scrambled back into the room to look for the ring.
He found it hidden behind the metal rack and grabbed it. Just as he began to scale the barrels again, the familiar jingle of keys reached his ears. “Kristen, don’t wait for me. Run!” he cried at the top of his lungs, hoping she listened this time. Then he raced up the rack to the window.
He never made it. A hand gripped his shirt, pulled him down. The ring slipped from his grasp as the barrels collapsed beneath him. His last sight before he hit the ground was of the pale moon cutting a scar across the bloated black belly of the clouds. His last thought was of Kristen, alone and frightened, lost in that night.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“How are we going to find this place?” Rebecca could barely feel her legs, a result of cold and fatigue. They’d set anchor in the cove below, next to another two motor boats—one of which they hoped belonged to Neil Hopkins—and were now snaking their way up the surrounding hills with nothing but a couple of flashlights to cut through the gray gloom.
“There’s a trail up ahead.” Zach quickened his pace, crouched, then directed his weak beam to the ground. “I see prints. About the same size as the ones we found in the house. Someone’s been here. Recently.”
When she approached, she saw the faint outline
of a man’s shoe etched in the mud. The rain hadn’t washed it away yet, which meant Zach was right.
Martin caught up with them. “Are you sure this is a good idea? There were two boats down there. What if he’s not alone?” He mopped the rain from his face with his palm. “Maybe we should wait for that ADA, Jenkins, to send back-up.”
“No damn way.” Zach’s sharp tone sliced the night. “By the time Pat gets anyone out here, Hopkins and the kids could be long gone. I’m not willing to risk it.” The moon cut through the haze to paint his face silver. His skin was smooth and hard, like polished rock. “Back-up will come when it comes. Till then, we keep looking.”
Dampness beaded on Rebecca’s flesh, sent a chill skittering along her spine. She tasted salt on her tongue, mixed with the cloying tang of overripe fruit. “But what if Martin’s right and he’s not alone? They may be armed, and all we’ve got are these flashlights.”
Zach wouldn’t be swayed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now all I care about is finding the kids.” There was fire in him. Fire and determination.
He wouldn’t quit on her this time. She saw that now. He had purpose, conviction. He’d fight for what was his, battle the demons, plow through the carnage of their lost dreams and breathe new life into them. No matter what it took. He wasn’t the same man who’d insisted she give up trying to conceive, the one who’d taken off at a run when she’d refused to do as she was told.
She realized then these children had changed him, too. They’d reached deep inside him and fixed what was broken, the same way they had with her. They were the glue that would hold them together, restore their hope, teach them what it meant to be whole.
That was what children did. Amidst the haze of sleepless nights and chaotic days, they gave you clarity, made sense of the madness, filled all the hollow spaces in your heart. Now that she’d experienced the fullness that came with loving a child, she could never go back to the emptiness again. It would kill her.
Zach raised his hand to her cheek, swiped at it with his thumb, and only then did she realize she was crying. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. We’ll find them.”
She nodded, the lump in her windpipe so thick it crushed her voice.
Martin, who’d walked ahead of them, suddenly stopped. “I think I see something.”
Rebecca scrambled up the path to where Martin stood. To their right, where the trees thinned and a trembling moon cut a patch through the clouds to cast its waxing glow, a tenebrous structure hunkered amidst unkempt shrubs.
“Is that the winery?” It was so dark she couldn’t be sure.
Zach came to stand beside them. “Sure looks like it. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed her by the elbow, urged her forward. “Time to take back what’s ours.”
Neil lifted Noah off the floor, fighting the urge to slap him. Liam always said the kid was trouble. Because of the brat’s unwillingness to do as he was instructed, barrels now inundated the cellar. Some had burst open, and wine trickled across the floor to pool around his feet. But that was the least of Neil’s worries. He struggled to look out the window for the girl, but all he saw was the yawning night.
No child had ever escaped him before. Over the years he’d perfected his craft, and things always ran like clockwork.
But not this time.
Everything had gone wrong from the get-go. That was what he got for breaking his number one rule. Never target someone you know. That was the code he’d always lived by. But he’d gotten overconfident, strayed from the path, and now he was paying the price.
The boy struggled as Neil dragged him out the door and up the staircase. “Where are you taking me? Let me go! I have to find my sister.”
“I’d help you, but there’s no time. Someone is waiting for us.” Just south of the Vineyard, on a deserted chip of land drowning in the Atlantic, a boat sat moored, eagerly anticipating Noah Birch’s long-overdue arrival. Once there, Neil would swap the kid and the documents for a briefcase filled with cash. The payment would need to be renegotiated, of course, now that he no longer had the girl.
A pang of disappointment assailed him. He could’ve used the extra cash, especially now that he had to find himself another middleman. He couldn’t keep doing what he’d done yesterday. Pick-up duty was risky. He needed someone he could trust to handle that particular aspect of the operation. Someone who knew as little as possible about Neil and his connection to the Broken Angels. Raymond York had been perfect, almost always doing exactly as he was told, never bothering to ask tedious questions.
Frustration made him tighten his grip on the boy’s biceps as he yanked him through the plant. “You shouldn’t have helped your sister escape. She’ll die out there on her own.”
The thought was some consolation. At least she wouldn’t live to expose him. Martha’s Cellar sat on an impressive expanse of land, hidden by a vast maze of trees, on the quieter southwestern side of the Vineyard. No one even remembered the winery was here, so there was no chance someone would wander by and find Kristen Birch wheezing in the shrubs. The girl was as good as dead.
A shudder shimmied up Noah’s arm. “Let me find her. Please.” Neil understood how much it cost the boy to beg.
“Sorry. We can’t be late.” Regret traveled through him. “I’m really going to miss our chats, Raptor.”
Noah’s small frame hardened to stone. “My dad was right when he told me not to trust you. The meeting at Ringgold Park. It was a trap. That’s why my dad grounded me.”
Neil felt a crazy rush of pride, as if this kid belonged to him now. In a way, he did. “I always knew you were a bright one.”
Just like your father.
It still amazed him how Liam had pieced it all together. Somehow he’d realized someone was preying on his kid and had asked Adrien Gorski to create a spyware program for him that could track his son’s chats. When Neil had invited Noah to meet him at Ringgold Park, Liam had shown up instead. Thankfully Neil had sent Raymond to collect the boy, so his cover hadn’t been blown. Still, Liam had been far from dissuaded. On the contrary, he’d grown even more determined, engaging in a one-man crusade to bring the stalker down.
Neil hadn’t been worried at first. For years he’d evaded the Feds and their ever-increasing Internet crime squads. There was no way the chats could be traced back to him. His IP address was secure. Or so he’d thought. He must have said something on one of the chats, or maybe inadvertently at the office, because Liam had put two and two together.
Neil would never have known how close his employee had gotten to exposing him if he hadn’t intercepted a phone call from Gorski.
“You were right, Liam,” the tech-guy had said. “It wasn’t easy, but I managed to trace the chats back to Hopkins and Associates. Night-Owl is someone you know.”
Neil had erased the message, but Liam must have gotten in touch with Gorski, because soon after he began a dogged investigation into the life of his own boss.
Ungrateful little prick.
That was what he got for giving Birch a job right out of law school, making him partner…
“The man who shot my parents, did you send him?”
The question froze him solid. Apparently, the kid had not only inherited his father’s acumen but his deductive abilities. “Enough questions.” Neil shoved the boy forward just as the sound of breaking glass shattered the stillness.
Someone was here. Fear laced with dread lanced through him.
No, not now.
A few more minutes and he’d be home free.
Maybe a vagrant had wandered by, seeking shelter from the rain. People normally didn’t come this way, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility, especially given the lousy luck he’d suffered recently. He changed his course, circled around a stainless-steel tank toward the back door.
But Noah had heard the sound, too, and reached the same conclusion. “Help!” he screamed. “He’s got me. He’s taking me to his—”
Neil clamped a firm hand over
the boy’s mouth and half carried, half dragged him out the back door. He wished he had the use of both his hands, but the other was securely fastened around his briefcase. The kid was strong, nearly impossible to hold, especially now that he believed rescue was imminent.
Neil wrapped his arm—the one clutching the briefcase—around the boy’s middle and lifted him off the ground. Then he carried him into the woods, where towering trees sheltered and concealed them. Above their heads, a thick cover of clouds conveniently slid in from the west to block out the moon again.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Noah’s voice bounced off wood and metal to fill the cavernous space like a death knell. The unexpected sound of it sent a sharp jolt through Zach. Urgency searing his veins, he reached his arm through the window he’d shattered with his flashlight, not caring when the jagged glass tore through his forearm, and unlocked the door. A heartbeat later he was sprinting across the faded wooden floorboards. On either side of him, empty shelves reached scaly arms toward a water-damaged ceiling.
“Noah!” His voice traveled through the gingerbread-style house, reverberated off glass and steel.
No one answered.
Becca tumbled in after him, dogged by Martin. “Are they here?” Her strained tone matched the tight look on her face.
Zach was too distracted to reply, his attention riveted on the door looming behind a rundown counter. A door that would probably give them access to the plant that stretched behind this peaceful façade like the back end of a spider. Judging from the cobwebs that clung to the walls and ceiling, it was a fitting analogy. The building smelled of mold and neglect and of something else. Something he couldn’t identify. All he knew was that it made his stomach twist and bitter bile rise in his throat.
Following his gut, he breached the back room. An impenetrable maze devoured him, cluttered with large white bins, stainless steel tanks and old equipment that had rusted from lack of use. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie white glow over the place.