Hill Country Holdup

by Angi Morgan

  Every person she knew would be interrogated. Her home would be invaded, and everything she owned would be searched. They’d find the book. Now that Steve was part of this, there was a good chance they’d understand the clue that much sooner.

  Please God. Bring my little boy back to me. She prayed over and over and over.

  Heading westbound on Highway 114, she eased her foot off the accelerator as she passed a black-and-white. The lake house would be there no matter how fast she drove.

  “You have to pull through this, Steve. We need your help.”

  THREE HOURS IN THE HOSPITAL and still no one knew what had happened to him. He’d been informed they’d found another antidote vial locked in a safe at her apartment. Antidote for what? Everyone wanted to know but Jane held all the answers. It was her serum.

  Determined to leave, he’d forced his doctor to admit that nothing was seriously wrong with him. He pulled his shirt over his head just as George came through the curtains.

  “Has the Brant kid shown?”

  “We lost her.” His partner dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head.

  “You’ve got a team finding out where she’s working?” he asked and tucked his shirt into his jeans.

  “You ordered that as soon as you could talk.” George frowned and scratched his scalp. “Of course, we followed through. We know she rented a car yesterday.”

  Steve slipped his left foot into a boot and bent to pull it on. He nearly lost what little was left in his stomach but wasn’t sharing that bit of info with anyone. He wanted out of the hospital and on the trail of the kidnappers. And Jane.

  He pulled on the second boot and sat straight again, forcing a shaky hand to smooth back his hair before he slipped on his Stetson.

  “Palmer sure caught us with our pants down,” George said. “It was like she knew we were shorthanded.”

  “Maybe. But…” He couldn’t believe it. Jane wasn’t a kidnapper.

  “But?”

  But with a stick from her needle, she’d paralyzed him and left. What should he believe? “Just find her.”

  “I’m driving you home.” George dug his hands into his jeans pockets and shifted from foot to foot. “Come on, Steve. We’ve got this covered.”

  “I know Jane Palmer.”

  “You didn’t even know she was back in town, man. According to the landlord, she’s been here six weeks.”

  No, he hadn’t known she was back. And he didn’t know where she lived, but he did know Jane. He knew every inch of her body, every inch of her soul. She couldn’t be a part of the kidnapping. But she had to be since she’d picked up the ransom. He had very little time to determine why.

  The doctor warned him to take it easy for the next several days as he left the hospital. As if he actually would. A kid was still missing. And his ex-lover was climbing the FBI’s most wanted list.

  George punched the unlock button for the F150. “I can’t take you anywhere but home, Steve. Orders.”

  “Who’s in charge?” He climbed in, still stiff from the drug.

  “McCaffrey. He knows about your history with Jane. You’re on official medical leave until they know exactly what that serum did to you. Among other unanswered questions.”

  Like how he was involved. “Are they through at her apartment?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

  “What would you do?” He yanked the Stetson to his lap and rested his throbbing head against the seat.

  “She left you, Steve. She packed up and moved after two words—good and bye.”

  George started the engine. A light rain distorted the on-coming headlights. Steve leaned his aching forehead on the cool side window.

  “It was a bit more complicated than that,” he said quietly, his thoughts being thrust back four years to a time he’d rather block from his memory.

  “You can come with me,” Jane had said calmly. He could hear the disbelief in her voice. Disbelief that he encouraged her to follow her dream, to take a job offer that didn’t come along twice in a lifetime.

  “It’s not that easy, honey. I’d have to wait for an opening to transfer. I’d lose my place on the team. You know what’s coming up. This is the undercover break I wanted. It may be months before you hear from me, and I can’t let you—”

  “Don’t say it, Steve. Don’t tell me I’ve got to live up to my potential. Don’t say you won’t stand in my way.”

  “What kind of a life would we have here? I’m gone months at a time. You’d spend hours in a lab doing mindless work. You’d choose that kind of life over your dream job? You’ve been dying for this opportunity.”

  “You figured all this out on your own. No discussion?”

  “I belong here, hon.” He pulled her into his arms.

  “And what about us?” Her hands went around his waist, holding on to him like a lifeline.

  He held her, never wanting to let go, but knowing it was the best he could do at the moment. “We can’t forget about everything we’ve both worked—”

  She cut his stupid words off with a kiss. One that released every emotion bottled up inside him. Their lovemaking was exquisite, unhurried and all night.

  And in the end, she’d left.

  The opportunity at Johns Hopkins was too important and prestigious to pass up. If she’d stayed in Dallas, she would have regretted it the rest of their lives. He’d gone undercover posing for the next five months as a husband desperate to adopt a child. His team had run the sting trying to stop the illegal sale of abducted children.

  Nothing had gone right. His cover had been blown. They’d lost track of the kids. He still wasn’t over that.

  But their breakup had been for the best. Jane hadn’t written from Baltimore. He hadn’t heard from her. Not even an e-mail. He couldn’t blame Jane for leaving. He’d pushed her out the door.

  Another person gone. But this one had come back and hadn’t called. She’d made her choice.

  Enough said.

  It took twenty minutes to get to his house, but only ten to get Jane’s address from George. It was close to the University of Texas campus in Arlington. Close to where she’d lived when she’d been in school. Close to where they’d met.

  Okay, pal. Build a bridge and get over it. Keep a level head or you’ll give the brass a reason to keep you off the case even longer.

  Feeling like warmed-over cow patties, he should have stayed home. But this was Jane.

  His gut told him two plus two just didn’t add up to four. Flashing his badge at the officer still at the scene, he ducked under the crime scene tape and entered the totally wrecked apartment. There hadn’t been any reason for his team to be gentle.

  Stacks of empty cutesy frames that had filled every nook of her apartment four years ago were dumped from boxes as if she hadn’t unpacked. Jane loved pictures, but she had a habit of buying the frame and forgetting to print the picture to fill it. The knickknacks cluttering the top shelves matched everything he remembered. Nails, but no pictures on the walls. Nothing on the lower shelves.

  One bedroom remained completely empty. Odd. The desk was in the living area. Why get a two-bedroom if you’re going to put your desk inconveniently by the patio door? Didn’t make sense. Jane was a scientist and couldn’t live without having access to her files and external hard drive. So where was the computer? She hauled the entire PC with her on a kidnapping?

  He still couldn’t believe she was involved.

  The same comforter she’d had since she was eleven lay bunched in the middle of her bed. That was more like her—a creature of habit. During their three months together it had been hard to get her to change any routine.

  That uncomfortable feeling crept up the back of his neck again. The feeling he got when things were about to go from bad to worse.

  Upturned bureau drawers cluttered the floor. Clothes were piled under them. He picked up a picture of a very young Jane with her mother. She still had big sad eyes, as if she carried the fate of the world
on her shoulders. Just one lone picture?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Still slender with dark auburn hair, she hadn’t changed. Well, her bangs were dark. That was all he’d seen under that cap. He ran his finger over her lips. They’d still be soft and luscious.

  Opening the drawer in the nightstand, he found the book. Just one. A very used copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

  Jackpot.

  It had been a challenge to find a book she’d never read. A book she couldn’t quote by heart. He didn’t need to open the cover to see the words written inside, but he did anyway. “My favorite book is yours. Love, Steve.” He’d struggled with the words long enough, wanting them to be meaningful, yet casual.

  He’d come here specifically to find this, just in case the reference to one of its characters in his “antidote note” hadn’t been a fluke. He flipped through the pages, finding a Valentine’s Day card with last year’s date and a “Love, Hayden.”

  Who was Hayden?

  Under the card was a picture of Jane and himself at his parents’ lake house. He flipped it over. Austin Lake Country where Steve assured me I wasn’t alone in the galaxy.

  She’d kept the book and his picture.

  Dr. Jane Palmer closely guarded a secret about herself. He’d given her his favorite book for her birthday present, then found out she had an amazing memory. She could recite chapters of books she’d read in college.

  Shoot, he couldn’t go down memory lane right now. But he could go exactly where Jane had pointed him. Lake Buchanan, near Austin.

  He pulled out his cell and had his thumb over the speed dial for George. It was more than a hunch now. Jane had deliberately left him a trail. She needed him.

  But why not call the FBI? Why not write on the antidote note that she was in trouble? Why “Zaphod”? Because he’d understand immediately, and no one else would.

  What if he were wrong? McCaffrey would have his head if he misdirected the team. He didn’t want to be permanently relieved of duty. Right?

  He brought up the directory and retrieved the number for Southwest Airlines. If he were lucky, he could catch the first plane to Austin and bring Jane in alone. It was the safest way to get her to turn herself in and sort out why she was working with kidnappers.

  What did he have to lose?

  NINE TEDIOUS HOURS and Jane was losing her patience. Driving to Lake Buchanan through heavy rains had been a nightmare. Unexpected flooding in south Texas shut down roads and delayed her by four hours.

  Her uncanny recall for details had set her apart for as long as she could remember. But an eidetic memory didn’t help in storms that obliterated the road signs or detours due to flooding.

  How she’d wished for her ability to go away so she could be like normal little girls. A normal life full of dolls, playtime and friends. Full of stability instead of university studies. That “special” part of her everyone admired had contributed to her exploitation by her parents, losing her dream job and now the kidnapping of her son.

  The formula stored in her unique memory had drawn criminal attention to her. Guess she didn’t blend in well enough after all. If she had, Rory would be safe at home instead of in the hands of coldhearted kidnappers.

  Thunder echoed across the landscape, jolting her back to the driving rain beating against the windshield. It had started storming south of Stephenville and never let up. Kingsland had received its share, too. Although it was nearly seven in the morning, the sky remained shrouded in darkness as the rain continued to pour.

  She drove past two barricades on the last turn and parked the car in a drive leading to an unused field. The ground was normally a mixture of small pebbles and dirt, but was now mainly water and mud. A couple of steps from the car and she slid to the ground, losing the flip-flops in the dark. She walked the last quarter mile to the lake house, falling time and again.

  Her luck had to change. If the FBI understood her message, she could wait for their help here, away from the kidnappers’ view.

  If they didn’t show, she’d get a message to them. Somehow. But she was too exhausted to think after driving all night. And if Steve decided to come, what then? She’d thought about how to break the news to him. He deserved to know. But how did you tell a man he was a father and that his son had been kidnapped in the same sentence?

  I can’t think anymore. She finally sloshed up the muddy walkway thankful the heavy rains had placed the lake country in a flash-flood warning. There weren’t any cars along the road or in the driveway. No lights on in the house. Hopefully, the family was still at the ranch.

  Amanda Woods, Steve’s mother, usually hid a key so her kids could use their weekend retreat at a moment’s notice. Jane hoped it would be that way now, or she’d spend a horrible wet day in the boathouse. She hooked the soggy strands from the wig behind her ears, wearing it just in case someone saw her or if she was stopped.

  She pulled the key from under Brandon’s Texas-shaped stone near the roses, meaning Steve’s brother had been the last one here. They each had a cement rock with their handprint and initials from when they were five.

  Walking along the veranda-style porch, she wondered what it would have been like to have a loving family with traditions and roots. Her parents had done what they thought was best, protecting her from…well, everything. Yet exposing her to one university study after another and keeping her from a normal childhood.

  To be normal was all she wanted for Rory. And now? One step at a time. Or one hurdle.

  The door swung open without a squeak. Now breaking and entering could be added to her list of fugitive accomplishments.

  Trembling from nerves more than the damp, she grabbed a towel from the shelf in the mudroom and buried her face in its softness. A good sleep was far beyond her reach without Rory in her arms. But she’d been up for days and craved to stretch out with a pillow under her head. Just for an hour or so.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Jane screamed, dropped the terry cloth, and looked up to see Steve. A very alive, strong, healthy Steve. Goose bumps broke out across her flesh at the intensity of his stare. She took a deep breath, calming her racing blood.

  The T-shirt stretched taut across his muscular chest. He looked great. Too perfect for words. But she could come up with a few: absolute, excellent, flawless, hunk, masterful. Not to mention archaic, pig-headed and loner.

  Steve’s brow wrinkled, and the tiny laugh lines around his eyes were emphasized. She’d been gaping at him, but couldn’t help another look down his long, lean torso and back up again to his lightly whiskered face. Another gaze at the last and only man she wanted to see.

  But, dear God in heaven, she’d missed everything about him. The shape of his once-broken nose, his deep brown eyes, how his dark hair curled out from under his hat—even his boots. She wanted to throw herself into his arms but couldn’t. He’d made his choice four years ago. Having him hold her wouldn’t change that.

  “You look surprised to see me.” He blocked the door leading into the rest of the house. He was dry and immaculate except for that little bit of stubble that drove her crazy. “Didn’t you leave me a note?”

  Technically she’d left two. “I expected someone else.” She wasn’t up to verbally sparring with him. She wanted to warm up and dry off. Curl up and cry. Turn everything over to the FBI and be certain they’d find Rory.

  “Yeah, well, that knockout juice left a heckuva hangover.” He rubbed his forehead while continuing. “But I managed to make a plane.”

  “Just you? None of your team is here? Why wouldn’t they come? You never work alone.”

  “I take orders from the FBI, or at least I think I do.” He rubbed his temples again. “They put me on medical leave after I was stuck with an unknown drug.”

  “You were obviously injected with the antidote so you have nothing to worry about.” She needed to sit down. She pushed at his chest, attempting to get around him, but he held his ground, not budging from th
e mudroom.

  “You know, for a genius you’re not making much sense. You left a note for me to follow, but you’re surprised to see me.” He shoved the dripping blond wig off her head, resting his hands on her shoulders. “What’s going on, Jane? If something’s wrong, why not just tell the authorities everything?”

  “It was the only thing I could come up with. There wasn’t a way to write a note.” She didn’t dare look at him again. She kept her eyes focused on the scuff marks on his boots. She was just too shaky to think straight. “The picture was already in the book, so I decided to come here and hope.”

  “Why tell the FBI where you were going at all? Kidnapping has serious consequences. Tell me where the boy is and where you stashed the money.”

  “What are you talking about?” She’d kidnapped someone and had the money? “The kidnappers said they’d give him back if I did what they asked.”

  His hands stilled and created two pools of warmth through her wet T-shirt.

  She opened her mouth to ask about Rory but couldn’t. He let her go and turned away. But not before she’d seen the disappointment on his face. The same disappointment she experienced for not having enough courage to tell him about Rory.

  Steve pulled his cell from his belt. “I’ve got to call McCaffrey and let him know I’m bringing you in.”

  “I can’t go back to Dallas!”

  “Oh, yes, you can. I don’t know how you got involved, but—”

  She tried to take the cell from his hand. His grip was too firm so she kept her fingers wrapped around his. “Please, Steve, I need you to listen to me.”

  “It’s a kidnapping.” He shook her hand from his, but didn’t dial the phone. “Every minute counts if we’re going to find the kid.”

  “The kid? His name is Rory.” So he didn’t know. But why was he there? She couldn’t tell him about his son like this. She needed to think. Plan what and how. She hadn’t really slept in three days. Everything was getting jumbled in her head.