Hill Country Holdup

by Angi Morgan

  “Rory?” He wrinkled his brow. “You collected the ransom for Thomas Brant. The kid you and a couple of monsters abducted yesterday morning.”

  Another kidnapping? A second little boy was missing? She stumbled against the washer and slowly slid to the floor.

  Sweet mother of God, would she ever see her son again?

  Chapter Two

  “Are you okay?” Steve’s first instinct was to kneel down and pull Jane into his arms, but he couldn’t. She was a fugitive.

  Wanted for kidnapping.

  And no longer his.

  “I’m so stupid.” Her hands covered her face and she burst into tears. More than tears. Her body shook from the force. She rocked back and forth like a woman keening for a lost child.

  This near hysterical person was not the woman he had known four years ago. Jane hadn’t shed a tear as they parted ways or at any point in their relationship.

  “I’ll never see…him…again,” she hiccupped.

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “My son, Rory. He’s gone. They took him. I can’t believe I… Oh, my God.”

  When he couldn’t watch the stream of tears any longer, he knelt until she looked him in the eyes. “I don’t think I heard you right, Jane. You keep saying your son. The little boy that’s missing is Thomas Brant.”

  “And Rory. They have Rory.”

  “You’re saying they kidnapped two kids and one is yours?” He got back to his feet.

  Her bottom lip trembled and her head dropped as she pulled her knees in close to her chest again.

  Steve couldn’t have heard her correctly. He’d been up all night, drugged yesterday and his brain wasn’t working right. Were her words just the result of a drug-induced hallucination?

  She had a son? Jane? His Jane?

  Her dark auburn hair was plastered to her scalp, she was soaked to the skin, but she was still beautiful with those tear-filled eyes staring up at him. And very real.

  Leaning on the doorjamb kept him upright, but he couldn’t think. He forced his hand to reach out. After a few seconds her shivering fingers wrapped around his and he pulled her to her bare, muddy feet. Then he moved, taking the short tiled hall in four steps with Jane following. He tossed his phone onto a chair, sinking onto its match. All his energy had been zapped right out of him when he heard those words.

  She had a son.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He croaked the question past a very dry throat, wanting to head to his dad’s wet bar and the bottle of Jim Bean hidden from view. “When did you get married?”

  That guy was lucky. Jane was smart, beautiful and crazy in bed. He couldn’t think of her like that. The hell he couldn’t. She’d been with him first. Her kid was missing on top of being involved with the Brant kidnapping. Pull yourself together, Woods. You made your choice four years ago.

  “His father is… He’s… I wanted to call you, Steve.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I couldn’t tell you. They said not to involve any police or the FBI. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “Wait, slow down. Let’s start at the beginning.”

  If he couldn’t have a shot of whiskey, he might as well make it aspirin. Where did his mom keep them? He pushed out of the chair and stretched his stride to its limit, but stopped short of the kitchen.

  “The beginning? Rory and I were going to the park.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a kid?”

  “Why do you think you had the right to know? I thought it was better to just keep things the way you wanted.” She sat on the couch, looking as completely worn-out as he felt, but the words still managed to sting. “You were undercover and couldn’t be reached.”

  Undercover for almost three years. A lot had happened to her while his life had been on hold.

  “I thought we were friends.” Yeah, he knew the futility of the words as they left his mouth and didn’t need it confirmed by her look of you’re-just-being-stupid. “Don’t you think a significant thing like having a kid warrants a phone call?”

  “The phone works both ways, buddy. You never called me, either.”

  The truth flicked him like a bullwhip, inflicting small sharp pangs of guilt. Yeah, he could have found her. He had ways, contacts. But he’d avoided admitting his culpability, and then it seemed too late for a relationship.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “I couldn’t call you while I was undercover. You knew that.”

  “I tried to write several times, but what could I say? You made your feelings very clear when you asked me to leave.” Sniffing, she draped a worn afghan around her, like a protective wall between them.

  “Who’s the father? Could he be involved?” Probably some genius guy she worked with. It had to be. Maybe that Hayden fellow?

  His desire to think superseded the need for aspirin so he skimmed the perimeter of the room, pacing as far away from the afghan and what it covered as possible. He didn’t want to recall the disappointment he’d experienced and just how much he’d wanted a letter during that first assignment. If he did admit it, that would mean he’d been wrong. No, his work over the past four years had been important. It wasn’t a waste.

  Jane’s hand peeked from under the blanket to brush her hair back. “His dad’s never been involved with him. And he’d be the last person to kidnap a small child.”

  So, the guy had been after sex and not the consequences. Jane deserved better.

  As if she thought the same, she pushed off the couch, dragging the afghan around her shoulders to the window. “We have to find Rory.”

  Lightning glistened off the phone in the chair, beckoning him to do his job. He should call his team. It was important to let McCaffrey know he had the suspect. Or he could get Jane’s story, then make the call since the FBI needed information on her son’s kidnapping.

  “When did you get back to Dallas?”

  There hadn’t been any evidence of a child living in Jane’s apartment. Could he be wrong? Could all this just be a ruse to throw him off? After all, he hadn’t seen her in years. But why leave a note he was certain to follow?

  “Ten days ago.” Jane leaned against the window frame and looked expectantly out toward the lake.

  Her landlord had told them six weeks.

  “No one else is coming,” he said. At least no one I’m expecting. “Why would someone kidnap your son? What would they gain?”

  “I wasn’t looking for anyone.” She seemed more resigned, more somber if that were possible. “The new drugs I’m developing are very valuable. The sedative is what I used on you yesterday.”

  “It has a heck of a kick.”

  “It’s not fully developed. I wasn’t scheduled to begin at the lab until Monday. Copies of the formula and several vials were still at the apartment. They took everything.”

  Wrapped tightly in the afghan, she took small steps back to the couch and perched on the edge.

  “How would they know about it?”

  “My money’s from the private sector. It came after my paper was published in the Journal of Anesthesiology. Anyone could know about it.”

  “What about your dream job at Johns Hopkins? Did they have any right to the research?”

  “Actually, that job didn’t work out. I’ve been privately funded with the understanding that my research belongs to me. So I have a lot of control over the development of the drugs. At least for the time being.”

  “Was there a bidding war? Did someone get pissed off because you cut them out of the deal? Maybe another partner?”

  “I worked alone and approached a friend at Foster Pharmaceuticals. It wasn’t associated with anyone or any company.”

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Tell me what happened with your son.”

  Taking a deep breath, she dropped her head onto the back of his mother’s old couch cushions, closed her eyes and pushed her hair behind her ears. “God, I can’t believe this is really happening.”

  Another deep b
reath and a long pause. He wanted to ask a million questions, but his Bureau training held firm. He slowly sat back in the chair across from her to wait on the story. Waiting was the worst part of his job.

  “Mrs. Newinsky, my neighbor on the floor below, greeted us when the movers pulled up to the building last week. She constantly came over and offered to watch Rory. We were going to grill hot dogs at the park July second, but she forgot to buy a package of buns.”

  A tear fell from her right eye, and she swiped it away as if it never existed.

  “I didn’t think twice. I just thought it would be quicker if I went to the store and she stayed with Rory.” Jane sat forward and picked lint from the afghan with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze. There was a small sniff. Then her eyes met his, but she quickly looked out the window where the rain continued to pour.

  “I…um…” She struggled, swallowing hard. “I got back and they were inside my apartment. At least two of them. With guns. They never spoke, wore masks and shoved typed notes in front of me.”

  Steve forced himself not to interrupt and then pried his short nails from the palms of his hands. He stood, needing to relax, keep a clear head and not tear her story apart. Just let her finish.

  “Mrs. Newinsky and Rory weren’t there. The note had instructions telling me they had Rory and they’d take me to him if I didn’t make a scene.”

  “So that happened two days before I followed you at the fireworks.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I had to do what they said. They had Rory. I got into the side door of a black van and didn’t see the plates. They blindfolded me—”

  “Did you count the turns? Any unusual smells or sounds?”

  “As much as I would like to believe I could re-create the ride, I tried to keep track but I can’t tell you anything significant. It was a building with no visible address. I couldn’t see the surrounding skyline. Nothing. All I know is that forty-something turns later I still wasn’t with Rory.”

  “What did they want?”

  “Not much the first day. Being separated from Rory drove me insane. It was the same for most of July third.”

  “Wait a minute. You rented a car on the third.”

  “Not me.” She shook her head and pulled the afghan tighter. “The last note said the car was in my name and to avoid the police. It also stated to find the stroller by the Mustang sculpture at the fireworks. Everything I needed, including clothes, was in the car. One man drove me to the hotel parking garage.”

  Images of a little boy floated into his mind, a toddler with short chubby legs and a patch of light brown hair the shade of Jane’s.

  Why was he unable to concentrate? He was a federal agent. He should be able to keep his head, be able to think about this situation rationally. He diligently concentrated on the tile where each boot fell as he paced.

  “How many men were there?”

  “I think two, but it’s hard to be certain.”

  “Could you recognize any of them?” His boot hit a cracked tile. An accident he and his brother were probably responsible for. Concentrate.

  “They wore full head masks and never spoke.”

  “Since they didn’t do anything to you and didn’t need you earlier than the fourth, why not wait and take you just before the fireworks? Why take your son? Why this elaborate scheme to collect ransom money?”

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t shrug or move. Then her chin quivered.

  He felt like an ass.

  “So tell me about last night.”

  “They watched everything I did during the fireworks. The one time they spoke, their voices were altered somehow. One guy met me in a boat, took the money and took me to the car. I needed to hide, so I came here on the way to San Antonio.”

  “San Antonio?”

  “That’s what the instructions said to do. I need to meet them at the Alamo on the sixth and I’ll get Rory back.”

  No spoken instructions? Disappearing notes? Secret formulas and threats to her child? This was so farfetched he didn’t know where to begin to tear her story to shreds. It didn’t make sense.

  And what happens if she’s lying to you, pal? A niggling voice kept gnawing at his thoughts. There weren’t any pictures, no kid clothes, no toys.

  “I went to your apartment, Jane.” Confronting her was easier than playing guessing games. “There isn’t any evidence to support what you’re telling me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Like he would with any suspect, he watched for tells. Subtle expression changes, a shifting of her eyes to indicate she was lying.

  All he could see was Jane. Holy cow, she wasn’t lying. She had a son. Rory was real.

  “The team wasn’t gentle when they searched your place, but they were thorough. I think I would have noticed if a child lived there.”

  Jane looked confused. “Why would they take his things? It was the only room I’d finished unpacking.”

  The tip of Jane’s nose turned red from holding back the tears she refused to surrender to again. Her lip trembled as much as her clasped hands. He clenched his jaw tighter to withhold his sympathy and drew on a reserve of professionalism he’d never tapped before.

  This wasn’t a normal abduction. It didn’t fit any profile, any standard he could focus on. His gut told him the kidnappers didn’t have any intention of returning her son. It didn’t make sense.

  “Who are these ghosts?” He didn’t hold back his frustration, letting his voice boom through the room. She flinched. He didn’t expect Jane to answer, but she shrugged and choked back a sob.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see them.” She dropped her face into her hands, thought better of it and looked into the far corner. “Details scream at me every moment of my life. I don’t forget anything. Ever. But I can’t remember what they didn’t expose me to.”

  “I want to believe you.” But he wouldn’t let his wants get in the way of reality. As much as he wanted to accept everything she said, he still hadn’t heard a viable reason why she would be anyone’s target. The Brants, yes. They had a million dollars’ worth of reasons—that Jane didn’t have with her anymore.

  “How did you know I’d find your message?”

  “Actually, I hoped they wouldn’t have to involve you, Steve. I assumed the police would discover who I am and hoped. I hoped that someone would look inside the book.”

  Dang it! Did all her actions imply she was innocent or did he want her to be? “Why not just write details about the kidnapping and let the police know about your son?”

  “They handed the note to me when we arrived in the parking garage. I found the stroller, then found a free pen when I passed by a booth. I barely managed to write ‘Zaphod’ on the top before the fireworks began. I hoped by mentioning a character from your favorite book, it would draw your attention to the case. What if they don’t follow through, Steve? I need your help to make certain I’m the one at the Alamo.”

  With McCaffrey in charge, there wasn’t much chance of him helping with the exchange. He had serious doubts anything he said would be taken into consideration.

  “Driving here wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Jane.” The rain had probably played in her favor, or she would have been apprehended in that rental. Which was probably what the kidnappers had wanted. “You should have called me, the police, anyone who could have helped you.”

  With her body covered with the afghan, he couldn’t pick up any abnormal nervousness. She had just as much apprehension as any parent he’d interviewed after a child went missing.

  “When we were together, Steve, you spoke of your last case. The reason you were on medical leave. The parents didn’t follow the kidnappers’ instructions—” a choked sob caught in her throat “—and the child…”

  Died.

  He remembered Kevin Haughton every day. He couldn’t avoid seeing the scar on his chest from the bullet that had nearly killed him. There wasn’t any way on earth he could argue with her reasoning. He�
�d given it to her.

  “I couldn’t take the chance to phone on the way here. What if they were following me? I thought I was doing the best thing.”

  “I don’t doubt you thought you were right. But this makes no sense. Kidnappers don’t work this way. Why involve another person? Why you? Why force you to pick up the ransom from a second abduction?” He walked the length of the living room.

  Stopping at the window, he watched the steady downpour of rain. Rising water would soon be their enemy, just like time. The longer the kidnappers took to return her son, the less likely he’d be found.

  God, he was convinced. It surprised him how easily Jane had persuaded him. Yet, he knew she was holding something back.

  “What’s next?” he asked her. “You said you were waiting to surface in San Antonio. When?”

  “I need to be at the Alamo tomorrow morning at ten. They’re supposed to give me Rory,” she said.

  Steve heard another choked sob, and his chest constricted tighter.

  During their whirlwind romance, Jane had never cried. Their days and nights had been completely filled with laughter and love. Keeping his back to her now and maintaining his distance was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He tightened his grip on the window frame, but could only focus on her reflected image in the glass as she slipped the blanket from her shoulders. No woman’s tears had ever affected him this way.

  “Steve—” her voice shook near the point of breaking “—you said the other little boy hadn’t been returned. Does that mean they won’t…that they may hurt Rory?”

  Turning to her, he tried to reassure her, refusing to think about the possibilities connected to this strange MO. He wouldn’t stop until he found both boys. “He’ll be fine. We’ll find them both.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. We’ll leave as soon you can get some of Mom’s clothes and shoes, before the flooding gets worse.” He looked pointedly at the towel around her neck and smiled as reassuringly as he could. “The phone is out. I need to try my cell again since I couldn’t get a signal earlier.”

  “What will happen if the police think I kidnapped the Brant child?” Her eyes widened and pleaded as she shook her head. “You can’t tell them I’m with you, Steve. Promise me. Rory needs me.”