Beneath the Stetson

by Janice Maynard

  Cade rolled his eyes, looking like one of the precocious kids from the Disney Channel. “Miss Bailey, you know what I mean. Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”

  She squatted beside him, hands on her knees. “I thought we talked about this.”

  “I’m not asking for a new mom. I just want to know if you like him.”

  The kid should be a lawyer when he grew up. She studied his innocent face, his features so like his father’s. “Some subjects are for grown-ups, Cade. It’s not that I don’t want to answer your question. But what you’re asking me is a private thing. Between your dad and me. Do you understand?”

  His sigh was theatrical. “I guess so.” He rubbed the puppy’s head, his eyes downcast. “He likes you.”

  Oh, crap. How dignified was it to pump a kid for information? But the temptation was too much. “How do you know?”

  Cade’s expression was earnest when he looked up at her. “I heard him singing in the shower this morning.”

  Bailey frowned. “So?”

  “So my dad never sings in the shower.”

  “Maybe he was in a good mood.”

  “I told you. He doesn’t sing in the shower.”

  Clearly, Cade’s logic made perfect sense to him. But Bailey was befuddled. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. Reminding herself that she was a mature adult, she derailed the provocative conversation. “Let’s go back to the house. Chance’s cook promised to fix a snack for you.”

  Cade stood up, a piece of hay stuck to his pink, round cheek. He tucked his small hand in hers as they walked back to the main house. “I like you, too, Miss Bailey. Thanks for babysitting me today.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Bailey took Cade up to her room and washed his face and hands and removed the worst of the mud from his shoes. She couldn’t return him to his father looking like a ragamuffin. “We’d better head out,” she said. “If I’m late getting you home, I’ll be on your dad’s bad list.”

  Cade giggled. “Dad says people aren’t bad. But sometimes they do bad things. Is that how you get on the list?”

  She picked up his jacket and the small cowboy hat Chance had given him. “I suppose so. Your dad is a very wise man.” And a darned good father. Cade’s maturity and grounded personality didn’t happen by accident. It was the result of unwavering love and the confidence he possessed that his father would always protect him.

  * * *

  Her car was warm from sitting in the sun. She cranked up the air and then made sure Cade was properly strapped into his booster seat in the back. His eyelids were drooping. He considered himself too old for a nap, but he had played hard today.

  As the crow flew, the trip from Chance’s ranch to Gil’s wasn’t all that far. But the only way to get from one to the other was to drive the several miles out to the highway, hang a right for another six or seven miles, and finally, traverse the long road out to Gil’s house.

  The whole trip took thirty minutes or so. Cade, bless his heart, was conked out before she even got to the main highway. Keeping the radio turned low, she hummed along to a favorite song, feeling her pulse race at the thought of being with Gil again.

  Imagining what he wanted to talk about was tantalizing. But she kept her anticipation in check. It was a long time until Cade would be tucked in tonight. By the time she and Gil talked, it would be late. After that, would he expect intimacy? With his son asleep down the hall? Or would they go their separate ways?

  She couldn’t imagine that. Not after yesterday. Gil looked at her with such intensity in his gaze that she was under no illusions about what he was thinking. He was a virile man. A sexy, masculine alpha male. And he wanted her.

  The knowledge was exciting. But she felt restless and nervous. The sting of continuous desire was a unique experience. She didn’t know it was possible to feel such gut-level need and still be so uncertain about the future. Would tonight be a watershed moment? Or was she making too many assumptions?

  Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a car pulled out to pass her. She grimaced. Impatient drivers were the worst. In slow motion it seemed, she glanced in the rearview mirror to look at Cade and almost simultaneously realized that the vehicle beside her was not merely crowding her accidentally. The driver jerked his wheel sharply and sideswiped her, pushing her toward the side of the road.

  Her training clicked into gear. She had to outrun them. But even as she stepped on the gas, she despaired. The car responded sluggishly, the front right tire hung up in the ditch. With shaking hands she grabbed her cell phone and texted 9-1-1 to Gil...and seconds later to Nate. Then, dialing 9-1-1, she dropped the phone on the front seat and left the call open.

  Her heart in her stomach, she prayed that Cade would stay asleep. The thought of him being scared made her angry. When she determined that her car would go no farther, she put it in Park. Bitterly regretting that she had not brought her service weapon, she debated her options. If at all possible, she would not let whoever had disabled the vehicle get near Cade.

  At the moment, there was no movement from the other car. It had stopped, as well.

  She glanced at Cade. His thumb was in his mouth and he clutched the small plastic pony that was his favorite. But still he slept.

  Adrenaline flooded her stomach with sickening force as the door of the other car swung open and a man exited the vehicle. He wore a ski mask. Walking rapidly, he closed the distance between them. Though his arm was not outstretched, he had a gun in his hand pointed at the ground. “Get out of the car,” he said loudly, standing several feet away, nothing but glass between them.

  “What do you want? I have money.” She reached for her purse. “Credit cards. Cash. Take it and leave me alone.”

  “Let me see both of your hands.”

  Her brain raced. Did he know she was trained law enforcement? Was this Alex’s kidnapper? Slowly, wanting to draw his attention away from Cade, she held up her arms.

  The man’s posture was rigid. “Get out.”

  If she did as he asked, Cade would be completely helpless.

  The man took two steps closer. “Now,” he shouted. “Or I shoot the kid.” He placed the muzzle of the weapon against the glass of the back window.

  Bailey glanced desperately at the boy in her charge. “Cade,” she whispered. Knowing she couldn’t take a chance that the man was bluffing, she unlocked the door and stood up. The assailant charged her and struck the side of her head, and her world went black.

  * * *

  Gil flew down the street toward the sheriff’s office. He’d been in the chopper, still a long way out from the airport when Bailey’s text came through. His return call to her went straight to voice mail.

  Parking his truck haphazardly, half on, half off the sidewalk, he jumped out and ran toward the building just as Nate pulled up in a squad car, sirens blazing. Gil stared at his friend, his heart pumping like a madman’s. Before Nate could speak, Gil grabbed his arm. “What in the hell is going on? I got a 9-1-1 text from Bailey.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Damn.” Fear like he had never known swept over Gil. It was a hell of a time to figure out that his love for Bailey was neither halfhearted nor theoretical.

  The door to the building burst open and Nate’s second in command ran to meet them. “A 9-1-1 call came in about forty-five minutes ago. From Ms. Collins. She left the connection engaged so we could listen in. As crazy as it sounds, it appears that someone tried to carjack her. We sent personnel out immediately.”

  Nate frowned. “Where?”

  “We located her cell phone signal. She was about halfway between McDaniel’s Acres and Mr. Addison’s place.”

  Fury choked Gil. “Where in the hell were you, Nate?”

  “On a domestic disturbance call north of town. Woman took a butcher knife to her husband.
I got back as soon as I could.”

  The cell phone at the young man’s hip crackled. He answered it, and the blood drained from his face. “I understand. Thank you.”

  Gil felt a great yawning void in his chest. “Tell me,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me.”

  The twenty-something kid swallowed visibly. “They found the car. Ms. Collins was lying in the road...unconscious. Nasty blow to the head.”

  “And my son?”

  The younger man was pale as milk. “He’s gone, Mr. Addison. No sign of him.”

  Gil reeled mentally, though he kept himself upright by sheer strength of will. Everything seemed very far away, the street sounds muffled.

  Nate took his shoulders and got in his face. “Steady, man. We’re going to find him.”

  “He’s only a baby.” Gil had spent the past five years making sure his son was happy and healthy. “How could this happen?”

  The deputy spoke up, his voice shaky. “We have a team going over the crime scene. They’re very good.”

  Nate still held Gil’s shoulders. “Why don’t you go to the hospital and check on Bailey? I’ll text or call you every half hour. We have a protocol, and we’re going to be all over this. Trust me, Gil. I’ll search for that boy as if he were my own son.”

  Gil wanted to argue. He wanted to get in his car and comb the county. But without a lead, he was stonewalled. “You have to find him. I can’t lose my son. I can’t lose my son.”

  Nate released him, but still frowned. “I’m not sure you should be driving.”

  Gil glanced at his car. “I’m fine,” he said dully. “I’m fine. I want to go with you.” Everything inside him screamed in agony. The woman he loved was hurt...badly. But Cade needed him. The cruel impossibility of helping them both sliced him to shreds.

  Nate hesitated, obviously weighing the pros and cons of letting Gil ride shotgun. “It’s boring work,” he said. “We’ll be there for a while.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I might be able to help.”

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Gil saw nothing of the familiar scenery as it flashed by his window. When Nate screeched to a halt in front of three other squad cars and a van, Gil saw Bailey’s car. Bile rose in his throat, but he choked it back.

  They got out, and he strode beside his friend, stopping only when he saw the unmistakable stain of blood on the ground. God in heaven.

  Nate quizzed the detective in charge. “Tell me what you know.”

  A female officer, her eyes shadowed as she glanced at Gil, spoke calmly and concisely.

  “The damage to the victim’s car indicates that someone sideswiped her, forcing her off the road. We have decent tire tracks, as well as several shoeprints. Assailant was likely male.

  “Any blood inside her car?”

  “No.”

  Gil walked on shaky legs toward the vehicle and peered inside. “His booster seat is gone.”

  Nate followed him. “That’s a good sign. Whoever took the boy means no harm.”

  Just then another officer climbed out of the mobile lab in the van and jogged up to them, his face red from exertion. “We found this, sir.” He handed it to Nate. “It’s a tracking device. No telling how long it’s been on her car. We’re trying to find the manufacturer.”

  Fifteen

  Nate cursed as Gil’s blood congealed. Gil squeezed the bridge of his nose, his fear mounting. “I told her that what she was doing put her in danger. She wouldn’t listen.”

  Nate shook his head. “This may have nothing to do with Alex’s disappearance.”

  But Gil could hear the uncertainty in the sheriff’s voice. The timing was too much of a coincidence. Someone could have kidnapped Cade, knowing that the wealthy Alex Santiago would pay to ransom a child’s life. And now that Gil knew the truth about Alex... Good Lord. If the attacker knew the truth, also, then he or she was aware that del Toro was one of the richest men in Mexico.

  Gil cleared his throat. “A kidnapping for ransom would be a best-case scenario. If that’s what happened, they won’t hurt him.” But Gil’s innocent son would still be scared and alone. Goddamn it.

  Nate pulled out his phone and dialed. “I’m calling the hospital. If Bailey wakes up...when Bailey wakes up,” he said more forcefully, “she may be able to give us a description of the car and the attacker. In the meantime, we’ll put out an Amber Alert.”

  “But with no vehicle description and no way to tell who Cade is with, that will be pretty useless.” Gil’s fury was misplaced. Nate was trying to help. They all were.

  Gil spun on his heel and strode down the road, away from the vehicles, away from the image of his son being dragged from the car, away from the sickening vision of Bailey lying in the dusty road.

  When he had put several hundred yards between himself and the uniforms, he stopped, eyes scrunched closed against the piercing pain that threatened to explode his skull. Dear God, he prayed. Protect them...please... His brain was in such turmoil, those were the only words he could articulate. Over and over. Protect them. Protect them.

  Nate followed him moments later. “I need to know what he was wearing.”

  Gil rattled off the requested information, trying not to think about how he had helped Cade get dressed only that morning, the little boy chattering excitedly about his day with Bailey.

  Nate answered a call and listened intently. When he hung up, he touched Gil’s arm in a brief gesture of reassurance. “Bailey’s going to be okay. She has a severe concussion and required several stitches. It was a bad wound, but she’s stable. The head nurse will call me when they have further news.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” The six words ripped his throat like sharp glass. His whole adult life he had been a man in control, the one to whom everyone else turned in a crisis. What kind of father stood by helplessly while his child faced God knew what evil?

  “I think you should go to the hospital now. Call me with updates about Bailey, and I’ll keep you apprised of our progress here. It’s going to be critical that we find out what she knows.”

  Gil understood the sense of what Nate was saying. But he had the odd and terrible notion that he needed to stay right here. At the spot where his son was last alive and well. As if by some miracle, Cade might teleport back to Bailey’s car and this whole thing would be a dream.

  He nodded slowly, his hands fisted at his sides. The sense of helplessness was suffocating. But if he could not help his son in the short term, his only other option was to be with Bailey.

  He had closed his mind to the possibility that she could have been killed. He couldn’t process that thought in the midst of his son’s disappearance. The brain could only handle so much trauma before it shut down. Bailey was fine. And she would understand his delay.

  Leaving the crew on the scene to search for any last clues, Gil and Nate headed back into town. Gil got out of the squad car and stood on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful evening. All around them traffic bustled. People smiled and waved. The world went on.

  But for Gil, time had stopped.

  Nate hugged him. An unusual enough occurrence that Gil was both shocked and taken off guard by the other man’s compassion.

  Nate stepped back, preparing to go inside. “I’ll keep you posted, and you do the same.”

  Gil nodded.

  “Talk to someone at the hospital. You may be in shock. You won’t do anyone any good if you collapse.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” It was true. He was encased in ice now. Nothing could touch him. He had a plan and a mission. Watch over Bailey. Find out what she knew.

  Leaving a concerned Nate staring after him, Gil strode to his truck, climbed in and started the ignition. For a moment, he couldn’t remember which way he needed to go to find the hospital. Realizing that Nate still watched him, Gil
took a deep breath and shifted into drive. He backed up, pulled into traffic, and rounded the corner.

  Five minutes later, he pulled off into a narrow alley, put his head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

  * * *

  Had it been only a couple of weeks since Gil and Bailey had visited Alex? Kissing her in the parking lot seemed like a dream now...a bittersweet dream. Tonight was supposed to have been a threshold for them, a day of reckoning. Instead, anticipation had crumbled into sickening fear for his son.

  Gil walked into the hospital, sparing only a fleeting thought to wonder if Alex had been discharged. Thinking about Santiago...or del Toro...or whatever his name was made Gil’s anger rise again. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Cade was gone. Gil knew that intellectually. But it was easier to shift his fury onto Alex than to admit that he had failed his son.

  The waiting room was empty. Gil approached the pleasant-faced older woman volunteering at the information desk. “Bailey Collins. Can you tell me her room number?”

  “Are you family?”

  He ground his teeth. “She has no family in the area. I’m her friend.”

  “I’ll need to check with the nurse...”

  He gripped the edge of the desk, closing his eyes briefly and reaching for patience. “Ms. Collins and I are in a relationship. Do you understand what I mean? I have to know what’s going on.”

  The lady in the pink smock flushed, her eyes wide. “I’m just following rules, sir. But I will take you at your word.”

  While Gil waited, the woman made a brief phone call, then hung up. She smiled hesitantly. “Ms. Collins is not in the room. She’s having a CT scan and a couple of other tests as a precaution. As soon as she’s back, they’ll let me know.”

  Gil swallowed, feeling light-headed. “Thank you.” Numb and filled with a black void of despair, he dropped into an uncomfortable chair on the far side of the room. A TV on the opposite wall, thankfully muted but with closed captioning on, played old reruns of The Andy Griffith Show. Opie was small in this episode, maybe Cade’s age. He had broken his arm falling out of a tree, and Sheriff Andy was carrying him into the hospital.