by Rebecca York
He squeezed her tightly, then eased away. “Will you tell me about him?”
“Yes. I’ve got pictures in my wallet. Is my purse in the mudroom?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I should have given it to you.”
“I didn’t need it,” she answered on the way to retrieve her purse. Opening her wallet, she got out a handful of pictures of a dark-haired little boy with blue eyes. The earliest one showed him in a high chair banging a plastic cup against the tray. Then there were two pictures of him at a playground. A school picture where he was posed against a blue background and a picture of him on a horse.
“He rides?”
“I figured he’d like horses. That was at a rodeo that came through Boulder.”
“He looks like me,” Matt marveled.
“Yes. I’ve got a lot more pictures at home. Not just pictures. I’ve got videos. And I try to write down the interesting or the funny things he does. I guess in the back of my mind I was keeping a record for you. But I couldn’t admit that to myself.”
“Tell me more about him.”
“He’s…sweet. And smart. He’s memorized all the songs they sing at school. He loves to paint. He’s already learning to read.”
Matt looked impressed.
She laughed. “He likes chili. I guess he gets that from you. But it’s hard to get him to drink his milk.” She glanced at the mugs still sitting on the table. “I have to put chocolate in it.”
Eagerly she went on to tell him so many of the things she hadn’t been able to share with him. They made her feel closer to Matt—and to Trevor, too.
“It sounds like you’re a good mother.”
“I let somebody take him,” she whispered, because she knew that if she tried to speak louder, she’d break down again.
“You couldn’t guard him every minute. You had to work—to support him. Sending him to nursery school was a good option. And you had no idea that anyone was after him,” he finished.
“Now it feels like I was living in a fool’s paradise.”
“I’m the one who would have been on guard.”
“But you couldn’t be. Because I didn’t tell you.”
He sighed deeply. “We’d better stop assigning blame. You came here so I could help you get him back. We’ll do it.”
She nodded, hope blooming inside her. She hadn’t known any of Matt’s history, but knowing it made her feel as though they could find their son.
“You need to eat something. Then we’ll get to work looking for him.”
“Not the best conditions for traveling.”
“We’ll start with the computer. With abductions. The way the world is wired today, it’s hard to keep anything in isolation—even when they told you not to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
He had just gotten up when a buzzer sounded, and she jumped.
“What’s that?”
“The alarm. That’s how I knew you were coming up the road.”
Fear zinged through her. “You think somebody’s watching the ranch? That they know I’m here?”
“I don’t know, but better safe than sorry.” He walked rapidly to the back entryway and took down a holster and a gun. Then he began getting into his cold-weather gear.
“What are you doing?”
“Going out to have a look. Like I did for you.”
As she watched his preparations, she was thinking that in the normal course of events, he’d be considered paranoid for going out in the snow to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him. But it wasn’t paranoia when you’d been kidnapped as a child, and when there had just been another kidnapping.
Still, she grabbed his arm before he could step out the door, and he turned to face her. “What?”
Her lips trembled. “If the kidnapper knows I’m here, they could hurt Trevor.”
He stood looking at her, considering. “I think we have to assume that they want him for something, and they’re not going to hurt him. They told you not to go to the authorities so they wouldn’t have any interference.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she murmured.
“Just like they wanted me for something,” he added.
“What?”
He swallowed. “To experiment on me, I guess.”
Fear clutched at her insides again. “Do you think they’ll do the same thing to Trevor that they did to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m scared.”
He nodded tightly.
“Are you thinking we should call the FBI?”
“Not yet. I’m thinking we should handle this by ourselves, under the radar—and use the FBI as a last resort. But I’d like to make sure we are under the radar.”
“Yes,” she agreed. She’d been on her own for so long, it was a relief to have someone else to share the decisions—and the worry. But she was going to carry her weight. Following him to the mudroom, she reached for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”
“No. Stay here where it’s safe.”
“You could get Ed.”
“I don’t want to put him in danger—or anyone else.”
Her heart started to pound as she peered into the darkness. “You think it’s dangerous out there?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve had a lot more experience with protecting myself than you have.”
She wanted to ask what he meant—exactly. Had someone threatened him since the boyhood kidnapping? But she knew that this wasn’t the time for questions, not when he needed to focus on whatever was out there. So she watched as he slipped out the door and into the frigid night.
Still, as he disappeared around the side of the house, she had to force herself not to follow him as another scenario zinged into her mind. What if they both had it wrong? What if someone was returning Trevor to them—at the ranch?
Her heart started pounding harder. Maybe that was it! Maybe all her fear and terror would be over soon.
Please, Lord, let that be true. Whoever had Trevor was returning him, just like they’d returned Matt. The same people? She didn’t care at the moment. She just wanted to hold her son in her arms again and smother him with kisses. She wanted to make him laugh. And she wanted to run her fingers through his silky hair. So much. But she ordered herself not to clutch at straws. Why would someone kidnap Trevor—then bring him back?
It didn’t make sense, but it was exactly what had happened to Matt. After three months, she reminded herself.
Feeling as if she’d caught the paranoia bug, she turned off the lights before walking to the window and staring out. When a shadow flitted by, she stiffened. Then she recognized Matt’s tall form, checking out the ranch yard.
At least it was easy to do in this weather, she realized. If someone had come up to the house, he’d see tracks in the snow.
Her stomach clenched again as she remembered struggling up the road toward the house. But nobody would be foolish enough to leave a little boy out in the snow like that—would they?
She opened and closed her fists, forcing herself not to run outside. Trevor probably wasn’t even here. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from clinging to that hope because the thing she wanted most in the world was to get her little boy back.
Please, Lord, please. Let Matt come back with our son.
Every few moments, she glanced at the clock, keeping track of the time Matt had been gone. After five minutes, she started pacing the kitchen, returning to the window periodically to stare outside.
After ten minutes, she wanted to scream.
Why hadn’t she insisted on going out there? It was all she could do to stay in the house—while she listened for the sound of gunshots.
But the only sound she heard was the pounding of blood in her ears. Until the back door opened, and Matt stepped back into the mudroom.
“Did you find Trevor?” she blurted as she turned the lights back on.
He tipped his head to the side, looking confused. “Trevor?”
She flushed, knowing that hi
s mind hadn’t taken the same leap as hers. “I…I was hoping that whoever took him returned him to us. Here.”
Understanding bloomed on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t find him.”
“Okay,” she answered, defeated.
He pulled off his coat and stamped snow off his boots.
“What did you find?”
“I think the only tracks leading up and down the road are yours and mine, although I can’t be absolutely sure in the dark. Someone could have stepped in my footprints to disguise their trail.”
“Okay.”
“But I did see deer tracks down there. Maybe they set off the alarm.”
She nodded. “I guess it was stupid of me to think someone would bring Trevor back—just like that.”
“It could have been true—given what happened with me.”
“But you don’t remember anything from while you were gone.”
“No!”
The way he said it made her throat tighten. “I’m sorry.”
“If I remember anything, you’ll be the first to know,” he snapped, then looked apologetic. “Sorry, I’m on edge.”
“We both are.”
“There’s a café in town that makes pretty decent chili.”
“You’re not suggesting that we go out, are you?”
Matt shook his head. “No. I bring it home in plastic containers. I thawed out a batch and stuck it in the refrigerator this morning.” He laughed. “That sounds pathetic doesn’t it?”
“Of course not. Cooking is a chore,” she answered.
MATT COULD HAVE told her that he had plenty of time for chores. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and took out the carton.
“I’m not very hungry,” she murmured.
“Neither am I. But we have to eat. We can each take a bowl of chili into the office while we do a computer search.”
“Of what?”
“Missing children. I can’t believe we’re not going to find some cases that match Trevor’s disappearance.”
When he saw hope bloom on her face, he felt his chest tighten. So that she wouldn’t see anything revealing in his eyes, he got out a glass bowl from a lower cabinet. After dumping the chili inside, he covered it with wax paper and set it in the microwave.
She’d come here because she had been at the end of her rope. Not like his mother who had pretended everything was fine and dandy while he was gone.
That told him something. She was a good mother to their son. And he was glad she had turned to him.
Could they find Trevor, then settle down together? His heart leaped at the thought. But was there any way to live as a normal family, or would there always be a threat hanging over him? Over them?
He struggled not to shudder, but she must have been watching him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Your shoulders are so rigid.”
He made himself turn and face her. “This is a difficult situation, but we’re going to get through it.”
She gulped. “Are we going to find Trevor?”
“If it’s humanly possible.” He laughed. “And maybe my inhuman talent will help us.”
“It’s not inhuman.”
“What would you call it.”
“Extraordinary. Something that gives you an advantage over other people. In this case, over the bad guys—whoever they are.”
He nodded. Although he hadn’t thought of it that way, she was right.
Turning practical again, he asked, “What do you want to drink with dinner?”
She shrugged. “Coffee—if we’re going to be up searching the Web.”
He got a bag of coffee beans out of the freezer. While he ground the beans, she took down two bowls and spoons. They’d prepared a lot of meals together five years ago. It felt good getting back into that routine, but he reminded himself not to get too comfortable. She was only here to get his help in finding her son. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping for more.
They both carried their food and drinks to his study, where he cleared off a space on the desk. Then he pulled over the extra chair.
As he did, his hands tightened on the back. He’d bought the chair for her when she’d been doing his accounts, and the two of them had sat where they could both look at the computer screen.
They were going to do it again, but this time the mission was a lot more important than making sure the Silver Stallion Ranch wasn’t spending more than it was taking in. They were going to find out what had happened to their son.
His son! He was still trying to wrap his head around that concept, but the reality had taken hold as soon as she’d told him about Trevor.
He booted the computer, then took a spoonful of chili while he waited for the machine to go through its opening routine.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said as she watched his opening program bring up the news.
“Google,” he said with confidence. He began by typing in a search field, then started cruising Web sites with information on missing children.
There was one site that listed children who had disappeared recently, but Trevor wasn’t on it—because he had never been reported missing.
There was a site of “cold cases,” but that, too, led to a dead end.
He checked law-enforcement sites in Colorado and surrounding states, then widened the search to the whole U.S.
When that didn’t pan out, he went to private web pages of parents who were trying to find their children, but none of them seemed to have any relevance.
Beside him, he could feel Shelley willing him to find something—anything—that would help them.
A FEW HUNDRED FEET from the ranch road, in a patch of snow-covered pine trees, Bobby Savage and Don Campbell sat in a darkened sedan. Savage was blond with blue eyes. Campbell was dark.
Savage had a scar on his lip from an old knife fight. Campbell had a broken nose. He was a big guy with broad shoulders. Savage was smaller and quicker. But external appearances aside, they were very much alike. Either of them could kill a person as easily as they could run over a cat crossing the road.
They’d once enjoyed plenty of contract work in the New York/New Jersey area, doing whatever they were asked as long as the job paid well. Intimidation and murder were their specialties.
But after a job where they’d left some unfortunate evidence, the east coast had become a little hot for them. Since neither of them had enough money to retire comfortably, they’d accepted a gig out of Denver. After completing that assignment successfully, more jobs had rolled their way. The former city boys had adapted to working in the wide-open spaces of the west.
Too bad it was cold as a witch’s lips out here.
“Turn up the heat again,” Campbell said.
Savage reached for the control and cranked up the blower. As warm air flooded the car, Campbell sighed.
“This is a bitch of an assignment.”
“The pay is good.”
“But I don’t like the way we’re communicating with the guy who hired us.”
“Advanced technology.” Savage pulled out his BlackBerry and looked at the screen. There was nothing new. There had been nothing new for the past few hours.
“Does he think we’re going to sit here all night?”
“I expect so.”
Savage reached into the back seat and retrieved the bag of food they’d picked up at a fast-food restaurant in Yuma. Turning on a small flashlight, he directed the beam into the bag, then pulled out a wrapped hamburger that had gone cold hours ago. With a grimace he set it on his lap, then reached for the thermos of coffee that he’d stuffed into the door pocket.
“You’re gonna have to get out and pee,” Campbell cautioned, the idea of unzipping his fly in this weather making him shiver.
His partner gave him a knowing look. “Yeah. And eventually so will you—if we’re gonna be here all night.”
Savage craned his neck toward the ranch road. “I say they’re not going anyw
here until at least the morning.”
“And your point is?”
“We could get a room in that town we passed and come back in the morning.”
“You want to take a chance on losing them?”
Savage considered the question. He didn’t know much about the man who had hired them, but he suspected that failure would be bad for their health.
With a sigh, he settled down in his seat for a long night in the cold.
BESIDE Matt, Shelley made a low sound. “This isn’t doing any good.”
He glanced over at her and saw that her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. It looked as though she was trying desperately to hold herself together, and he didn’t blame her.
“Give me a little more time,” he muttered.
“Okay.”
Shelley leaned back and closed her eyes, and he knew she must be exhausted. She’d left Boulder early, then gotten caught in the storm, then come staggering up the road in snow up to her knees. He wanted to reach out and wrap her in his arms, but the rigid line of her jaw told him she didn’t want comfort. She wanted results, although she didn’t need to sit here while he tried to get them.
“Do you want to go to bed?”
Her eyes snapped open again. “No! I want to stay here in case you find something.”
He didn’t try to send her away again, because he knew that as long as he was sitting here, she was going to stay. She’d come to him for help, and he’d thought he could at least give them a start on the Web. He’d gone down a long list of sites, but he was losing faith in his ability to find anything. At least on this particular topic.
Still, he wasn’t going to give up. Not while Shelley was sitting next to him, counting on him.
The Google entries were getting repetitive. He’d seen a lot of them before, but as he scrolled down, he spotted a new one that looked interesting. It wasn’t from any organization. Instead it belonged to a man named Jack Maddox who was trying to find his missing brother, Jared.
Could this be the break he’d been looking for?
Matt clicked on the URL and waited with a sense of anticipation while the site loaded. Scrolling down, he saw something that made him gasp—a picture of an eight-pointed star.