Austin barely sensed Maggie’s confusion and her protective instincts as she moved closer to her car, and toward the woman. He wasn’t tuned in to Maggie; he was picking up on the man who was a dark threat to her.
“She’s off guard now, there’s fear in her eyes. It takes no effort at all to grab her around the waist and press the gun to her head.
‘“Get the kid!’” Austin related.
“The woman yanks open the car door and grabs the boy. The mother’s fighting now, using all her strength, and she manages to break away for a moment. The woman has the kid out of the car, and he still hasn’t shut up.
“She’s surprisingly strong now, but a knock on the head with the gun fixes her.
“Have to be careful of fingerprints. Get the gloves on. I drag her to the driver door and force her in. She slumps over to the side, but I jerk her back up. I have to lean across her to start the engine. I crank the steering wheel to the right and pull the gearshift lever down.
“The car rolls toward the embankment, and I slam the door shut, then run behind and push so it’ll pick up speed.
“There’s got to be enough momentum to get the car off the road and down into the water. She isn’t dead, and if she doesn’t drown, she’ll be able to identify me. This kid is worth a bundle.
“The woman is waiting by the car on the road. It’s a white Corsica. New Mexico license plates.” Austin rattled off the numbers and letters.
“‘Piece of cake,”’ he went on in the man’s viewpoint. “The Sentra’s slowly sinking into the water. I get back in the white car. ‘Shut the kid up! It’ll take twelve or more hours to reach the contact and get the money, and I’m not going to listen to that crap the whole time.”’
Shaine’s soft crying shifted Austin’s attention from the vivid scene in his vision to her misery.
She stared at him in shock, huge tears rolling down her colorless cheeks.
“I should have done that by myself,” he said gruffly, his mind’s eye still elsewhere. “I shouldn’t have put you through it.”
“I had to know.” She shook her head. “It’s what I’ve needed to know all along. That man killed her!”
Helpless anger arced through her like a bolt of lightning. She’d been killed! Her sister had been murdered!
The high color that had been evident on Austin’s face moments ago instantly drained, leaving his tanned cheeks startlingly pale.
“What is it?” she asked, leaning forward.
His expression blanched, and she reached for him.
He gulped for air like he couldn’t breathe. Was he having a heart attack? What was happening to him?
“Austin!” She bracketed his face, but his eyes were glassed over with pain and horror. “Austin!” Caught up in a terror all his own, he couldn’t hear her.
His entire body tensed. Shaine placed her hand over his pounding heart, her own pulse racing with fear.
“Austin, answer me!” She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms—and discovered his clenched fist.
The watch.
It took all her strength to pry his fingers open and wrench Maggie’s watch from his grasp. She dropped it and brought his hand to her face.
Slowly his breathing calmed. His body relaxed. And finally, at least a minute later, he focused his gaze on her. Unimaginable suffering dwelled in the depths of his burden-dark eyes.
“You were there,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “With Maggie. Weren’t you?”
His eyes didn’t change. Only his lips moved when he said, “Yes.”
Shaine dropped her head forward, her hair hiding her face. He’d gone through that for her. He’d experienced the pain and horror again.
But Maggie—her heart broke all over again with the knowledge—Maggie had experienced it. And died. The loss and the unacceptable thoughts of her sister’s pain and terror pierced Shaine anew. How did the people left behind live with this? How did they cope and go on with their lives?
“We have something to go on now,” he said.
She raised her head and threaded her hair back. The glimmer of hope that she’d clung to glowed bravely. “Yes,” she whispered. “Thanks to you.”
The intercom in the kitchen crackled. “Shaine?” Nick’s voice, sounding concerned, came through. “Can you come up here right away? Audrey’s going to have the baby!”
Her eyes met Austin’s. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 13
“Audrey, you can’t have this baby tonight! You’re not going to have it until next Thursday.”
“Nick, run home and get my bag.” Audrey turned back and looked at Shaine like she’d predicted an ice storm in July. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw the baby, and I saw his birth date. It’s not time yet.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to him,” she said, rubbing her distended belly. I’m having this baby, and I’m not waiting until you think it’s the right time.”
“Okay.” Shaine gave her a quick hug. “I’ll take care of everything here.”
“I know you will.”
Nick returned and the Pruitts drove off.
Six hours later, Nick brought her home, tired, cranky and still very much pregnant. “False alarm,” Audrey told her over the phone. “And if you say ‘I told you so,’ I won’t talk to you for a month.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Nick says the guys at work have a baby pool going. He wants to know how much the baby will weigh.”
Shaine told her and Audrey relayed the message.
“And, Shaine?”
“Yes?”
“Is he all right? I mean, he’s healthy and all?”
“He’s perfectly healthy, hon. And he’s beautiful. Now get some rest. I’ll do everything in the morning. You stay home.”
“I will. Until I can’t stand sitting around any longer.”
Shaine hung up and snuggled against Austin. She’d barely fallen asleep when Audrey’s call had come. She’d lain awake thinking of Austin’s vision that day, hurting for her sister, worrying about Toby and blaming herself because Austin was the one with the bad dreams that night.
He’d been mumbling, turning from his side to his back again and again.
He’d left a message for his FBI friend. She had to believe that soon they’d have something on the people who killed Maggie and took Toby.
“You awake?” she asked, knowing he’d heard the phone ring.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“What proof will we have on these people?” she asked. “How will your friend prove they had anything to do with Maggie’s death?”
“Usually, by the time I’m called on a case, he doesn’t have much to work with. Anything I come up with is a gold mine to the department.” Austin turned to face her, and his voice grew stronger. “One thing leads to another. We have the plates to go on. The description of the car and the kidnappers. I might get something else.”
“How?”
“The channel’s open, Shaine. I’m not going to close it now.”
“You mean you could just see something? Or dream something?”
“I could.”
“You’ve done that before?”
“Yes.”
She thought a minute. “Did you hear yourself?”
“What?”
“You’re hoping.”
He was silent so long, she thought he’d fallen asleep. When he spoke, his voice held a note she’d never heard before. “The only thing I’m hoping right now is that you’re not too hurt when all is said and done. I’ve learned to expect the worst. You haven’t even begun to comprehend it yet.”
“Ken’s lined up a meeting with the composite expert at OPD,” Austin told her late the next morning.
“Who’s that?”
“The person who puts together likenesses of criminals and missing persons.”
“An artist?”
“Not really. It’s all done by computer now, and I guess she’s one of the best.”
Shaine drove and parked on the street near the police station downtown. They checked in and waited. Within five minutes an attractive young black woman greeted them and led them through several doors and to an elevator.
As Ken had promised, Treasy Browne was good, and Austin had obviously done this before. He helped with features and expressions, and before long they had computer composites of the man and the woman he’d seen. Treasy faxed the pictures to Ken’s office and made copies for Austin and Shaine.
“How could you describe him so well, when you were seeing through his viewpoint?” she asked on the way back to the inn.
“I don’t know. It must be because I got there through Maggie. And Maggie knew what he looked like. There are never any rules to follow. One time to the next can be different. You just take what you get and work with it.”
The delay wore on their nerves. Neither of them slept well. Austin found things to do, even painting the back fence, cleaning the garage and waxing Shaine’s car and Nick’s pickup.
Finally, two days after Austin had had the vision, Ken called with news. “The kidnapper’s car was licensed to a woman named Lorenz in New Mexico,” he informed Austin. “It was reported stolen three days before Maggie’s death, and it turned up forty miles away from the Lorenz woman’s home one day after.”
“What do you figure from that?”
“He was probably driving from Arizona or New Mexico and stole the car, leaving his somewhere nearby. They got to Nebraska, watched Maggie for the opportune time, nabbed the kid, then returned to their own car.”
“Where did the stolen car turn up?”
“A convenience store in Silver City.”
“Evidence?”
“The police have a file and a couple of items in evidence.”
“Can you arrange something?”
“You going to come?”
“As soon as I can.”
“I’ll meet you there. It’s been a while.”
“I’ll probably have a woman with me.”
“Interesting... Call when you get there. They’ll page me.”
“Gotcha.” Austin hung up, found Shaine and relayed the news.
“I’m coming,” she said.
He knew she wouldn’t be shaken from the idea. “Are you comfortable leaving Audrey?”
“She has another week. This will take us a couple of days. I’ll see that Marge Andersen fixes the breakfasts until I get back. The guests will just have to eat after her kids go to school.”
“When shall we leave?”
“First flight out,” he said.
“You’ll have to phone for reservations.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’ll pack.”
Their flight arrived in Las Cruces shortly after seven that evening, where they ate and caught a commuter flight to Silver City. Standing in front of the car rental booth, their luggage at their feet, Austin reached over her shoulder and selected a color folder from a rack. “A Spanish-style bed and breakfast.”
“Where?”
He opened it and studied the miniature map. “A few miles from here. Want to check it out?”
“Let’s call and see if they have an opening,” she suggested. “We can find something to eat on the way.”
The inn did indeed have an opening, and the short drive was worth the few extras minutes it took Austin to locate it. The inn was beautiful, the young couple who owned it gracious, and by ten, Shaine and Austin had settled in their room.
Austin turned the bathroom light out, glanced around and got into bed. “Is there a TV hidden somewhere?”
“Guests come here to get away from the twentieth century,” she said, smiling. She picked up a journal from the nightstand and flipped through the pages. “At least there’s something riveting to read. Notes from the guests who’ve stayed in this room.” She glanced through the pages.
The place made Austin uncomfortable, but he’d known she would enjoy it.
“Look,” she said, holding it toward him. “A lot of them are couples celebrating anniversaries or taking a weekend holiday away from their families. Isn’t that romantic?”
He took the book. A disquieting tremor ran up his arm and he pushed the journal right back at her.
She gave him a questioning glance. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t like holding it.”
“Really?” She looked at the book like he’d given her a whole new perspective, then gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Are there impressions stored in it?”
“Hundreds.”
“But you’ve got the switch turned off, right?” He didn’t say anything, and she went on. “That switch isn’t a hundred percent effective, is it? That’s why you’re careful not to touch things.”
“It works most of the time. But every so often something slips past the barrier.”
She returned the book to its place and appeared thoughtful. “I truly understand why you needed to make a place for yourself away from all this. I enjoy my antiques, and I like to imagine who owned them, but if I really knew their histories, I’d probably feel differently.”
Her words meant more than she knew. He’d often considered himself strange, and hadn’t shared anything personal with anyone since the girl he’d foolishly trusted in college. It was hell going through life not trusting anyone. Not being able to share the real him. Never getting close enough to form any kind of attachment.
He’d thought he was resigned to that life. And he had been. Until Shaine.
She snuggled down beneath the covers, and he turned to study her features. She appeared thoughtful. He could lose himself in her eloquent eyes. He ran a finger across the alabaster skin of her cheek.
“What are we really doing here?” she asked a little later.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s been a year since those people took Toby and left the car near here. No one will remember anything.”
“Probably not, but there’s still the evidence.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find that out tomorrow.”
“I should check with Audrey.”
“There’s no phone.”
She arched a brow. “We’ll make our calls in the morning. There’s a phone at the desk downstairs.”
“Your rooms are nicer,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Mine don’t have phones or TVs, either.”
“It’s just the thought that went into planning them. They’re more...welcoming.”
“Well... thanks.”
“A racket, when you think about it.”
“What’s that?” Her eyes were closed now.
“You guys don’t have to pay for cable or phones and lines, but you charge more than the nicer motels.”
“Atmosphere is worth something.”
He had to get out of bed to turn off the fake gas lamp on the wall. “Right.”
“Well, it is. These rooms and all this furniture have a history.”
“Tell me about it.”
“They make you uncomfortable?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can you fall asleep dreaming of the people who lived here, raised families...?”
“Knocked off a chunk in this bed every Saturday night,” he finished.
“Austin,” she reprimanded with a laugh in her tone.
He pulled the covers away a little and kissed her neck. “I’ve never made love in a crowd before.”
Laughing, she threw the covers completely back and embraced him.
Austin called Ken in the morning, and after a quick breakfast in the inn’s dining room, he and Shaine set out to meet him at a roadside caf6 a short distance from the convenience store where the white Corsica had shown up.
Once there, Austin led Shaine to a booth. “Shaine, this is Ken McKade. Ken, Shaine Richards.”
“Miss Richards.” He was a little older than A
ustin, not as filled out, with dark hair graying at the temples. He wore a pair of brown slacks with a neutral shirt and tie.
“Call me Shaine,” she said.
“All that exercise is paying off, Allen,” he said, with a wry grin. “You still look like you did years ago.”
Austin shrugged. He ordered coffee and brought the conversation to the point. “Shaine is the one who saw her nephew alive.”
“Saw him?” Ken asked. “How?”
“She saw him in a dream.”
“Oh.” Obviously used to Austin’s extrasensory skills, he accepted that information and turned to her. “Where was he?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t get a handle on the location.” She explained her dreams and the visions she’d experienced while holding Toby’s toys. “Austin’s the one who held them and got the couple with the Corsica.”
“Could have knocked me over with a feather,” Ken said with a shake of his head, “hearing you’d taken it up again.”
“I haven’t,” Austin clarified. “Just this one case. Just to help Shaine find her nephew.”
“Okay. Well, you know I’m not a skeptic. That’s why I dropped a couple of other cases going nowhere to back you up when you called. If you’re seeing it, it’s coming down.”
“Thanks, Ken.”
“We’ll walk the perimeter of the store first. You can go inside. It’s been a long time, though. Thousands of people have come and gone.” He stirred sugar into the coffee the waitress had placed in front of him. “But you never know.”
Shaine sipped her coffee and listened, fascinated by the respect between the two men.
“Then we’ll go to this Lorenz woman’s place and see the car. By then I should have the paperwork through to check out the evidence.”
The plan sounded solid, and Austin showed no signs of uncertainty. Finished with the discussion, the three of them parted and met again in the convenience store parking lot.
Shaine hung back as Austin and the agent walked around the lot and the building. While the two men went inside, she glanced around. Cars and distracted customers came and went. A year ago, the kidnappers had stopped here with Toby. He’d been a tiny boy in a strange car and a strange city without his mama. What kind of people stole a baby? And what had the kidnappers done with him? Sold him? The idea was sick.
The Truth About Toby Page 14