Kincaid’s Dangerous Game

by Kathleen Creighton

  “Do you think they believe us?”

  “I think they’d like to.” He was sitting relaxed in his chair, arms folded on his chest, and his eyes, resting on her, were calm. “Problem is, we’re all they’ve got. And we’re so perfect for it. Biological mom hires private investigator to find child she gave up for adoption, they go to see the kid, and the next day she’s abducted? Doesn’t get any more perfect than that.” He smiled wryly. “Hell, I’m not even sure I believe us.”

  Her lips felt numb; she couldn’t make herself smile back. “But…they’ll check at the airport, won’t they? They’ll ask Tony. He’ll tell them he brought us back here last night.”

  “Yes,” Holt said gently, “and I’m sure they’ve already done that. Doesn’t mean we-you-couldn’t have hired somebody like Miley to kidnap your daughter.”

  She put a hand over her eyes and whispered, “Oh, God.” After a moment she took her hand away and glared up at the video camera. “They’re probably listening to us right now, aren’t they?”

  “Probably.”

  “They know I have a rap sheet, I guess…” Her stomach felt raw and sore, and there was a sick, sour taste in her mouth. “From when…I was on the street.” Yes…all the miserable, stupid things I did then, to stay alive. Panhandling, shoplifting, trespassing…but at least-She blurted it out. “I want you to know, I never did drugs. And I never turned tricks.”

  He sat up suddenly. Felt as if she’d slapped him. “My God-Billie…”

  “You believe me, don’t you?” She stared at him with hot, dry eyes.

  The air between them was like a solid thing. He wanted to reach through it to touch her, but it seemed impenetrable. He said huskily, “I believe you. But it wouldn’t matter to me if you had. I’d never judge you.”

  “Yeah, you would. And it would matter. You might not think so, but it would. You know why I didn’t?” Her gaze didn’t waver, just seemed to grow hotter and brighter-and at the same time more distant. Like stars. “I didn’t because I figured if I was going to do that I might as well go back home. At least there I’d have food and a warm place to sleep.”

  What could he say? The effect of the words and that hot, hard gaze was enough to make him feel cold and shaky clear through to his insides. Staring back at her, he kept seeing all those battered young bodies he’d had to look at, in so many morgues, in so many cities, laid out cold and still with clean white sheets covering the evidence of how cruelly life had treated them. So many without names…All he could do was look at her and hope she’d understand his silence.

  After the longest ten seconds he’d ever lived through, she sat back and exhaled sharply.

  “Why are they still keeping us in here? They’ve asked us everything they possibly could. What are they waiting for?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, I think-” And just then the door opened to admit the Las Vegas detective they’d spent so much time with earlier in the day. Right behind him were the two people Holt wanted most in the whole wide world to see. “I think-” he finished, grinning as he rose to his feet “-for this.”

  As he went to greet his visitors, he caught a glimpse of a face gone white as chalk, and he knew then that what scared Billie Farrell-or Brenna Fallon-more than the entire Las Vegas Police Department combined was this moment, and what was about to take place. Meeting this man-Wade Callahan.

  My brother.

  She had no recollection of having risen to her feet, but she must have. Now she stood with her hands on the tabletop to steady herself and watched them come into the stark little room.

  She saw him first-a tall man with broad shoulders and a slightly rumpled look, a face with a rock-solid jaw wearing a hint of beard shadow, close-cropped brown hair and heavily lashed eyes a deep, dark shade of blue. Right now those eyes were frowning and aimed straight at her, even while he was busy shaking Holt’s hand and clapping him on the arm. Then he pushed past everyone else in the room, and tables and chairs, too, and she was swallowed up in the biggest, strongest hug she’d ever known.

  Except, unbelievably, that big, strong body was shaking. She could feel the hard edge of his jaw pressed against her head, and her feet didn’t touch the floor as he whispered, “Hey, baby sister. Nice to finally meet you. I’m your brother Wade.”

  She didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare laugh, or even draw breath. She was so fragile, her self-control so tenuous, one word…just one sound…would smash it to pieces.

  Then there was a sound, and she didn’t break after all. A soft, almost comical, “Ahem…”

  Wade released her with a shaken laugh. “Yeah…all right, I know. Sorry, Tee…” He turned to bring the other person, the woman, forward, although he kept Billie tucked in the curve of his arm. “Hey-I want you to meet my wife. This is Tierney. Tierney…this is my sister Bren-”

  “It’s Billie,” Holt said, from somewhere nearby.

  The woman was lovely, with tousled blond hair and clear, beautiful blue eyes, so different from her husband’s indigo, and worlds apart from Holt’s hot-cold steel. She had sun-kissed skin, a scattering of freckles and a warm and generous smile. Something about her made Billie think of flowers.

  “Hi, Billie,” the blond woman said softly, and held out her hands to take Billie’s. “Friends and family usually call me Tee.” Her hands felt warm…so warm, and Billie realized hers were like ice.

  “You read people’s emotions,” she said gruffly. “Holt told me.” She tried to smile. “Guess this must be pretty intense, huh?”

  Tierney’s smile blossomed. “Oh, don’t worry-I can block most people’s most of the time.” She gave Billie’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “Think how awful it would be if I didn’t.”

  But her eyes held Billie’s for a few moments longer, and…it was the oddest thing. She wasn’t psychic, she was sure of it-at least, she’d never even thought of such a thing before-but suddenly there was a voice inside her head, a voice that wasn’t really a voice at all, more of a feeling, impossible to describe. And in words that weren’t exactly words, but so clear it seemed as if they were words, it was saying, You’re not alone…we love you. No matter what happens, we’re here with you now.

  “So,” Holt said, “here’s what we want you to do.”

  They were in a small squad room now-Holt and Billie, Wade and Tierney, several members of the Las Vegas Police Department assigned to the kidnapping case, and a couple guys from the FBI. They were scattered among the several desks in the room, some peering at computer screens or talking quietly on telephones.

  Holt was sitting on the edge of a desk and Billie was standing in front of him, straight and stiff as a mannequin. He had his hands on her arms, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted her in his arms. Wanted to do whatever he needed to do to get that dazed, scared, brave, stoic, frozen look off her face.

  “You just need to buy us some time, okay?”

  He waited for her nod and a barely audible, “Yeah, sure.”

  “All you need to do is to show up for the tournament, hang in for as long as you can. Give us time to find where he’s holding her.”

  Her eyes looked flat and hopeless. “How can you? How can they? He could be…She could be anywhere.”

  He lowered his voice to a murmur and tipped his head toward the detectives poring over their computers in the room behind him. “These guys know their stuff, and they haven’t been sitting around on their asses. They have some leads-they’re working on those now.” She just looked at him, clearly unconvinced. He forced a smile. “Plus, you’ve got me. I find people, remember?”

  “Kincaid.” One of the LVPD detectives-Holt was pretty sure his name was Vogel-held up an arm and beckoned him over to the desk where he was hunched over an array of electronic equipment along with a tech guy and one of the FBI agents. “I think we’re ready here.”

  “Yeah…coming.” Holt slid his backside off the desk but kept one hand on Billie’s shoulder as he guided her over to where the three men were waiting. Her shoulder felt
small-boned and defenseless, and he had to remind himself she was anything but.

  The techie was a slightly overweight guy with thinning red hair cut short and flat on top. He looked about nineteen. He handed Billie a phone, and Vogel said, “Okay, what I want you to do is call this guy Miley Todd back at the number he called you from. That’s this number right here.” He smoothed a piece of paper on the desk with one hand, and Holt recognized the note he’d scrawled before leaving Billie’s. “We know it’s a cell phone,” Vogel went on, “so we can’t trace it. But what we can do is try and ID the tower the signal’s coming from. Understand? That’ll narrow our search area. So we need you to keep him talking as long as you can. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, and Holt saw her throat move. He thought she looked scared to death.

  “Tell him you need proof he’s got Hannah,” he said, drawing her eyes to him, putting all the strength and confidence he could muster into the look he gave her. “Tell him you need to know she’s all right. Keep him on the line as long as possible.”

  She nodded again. The techie donned a pair of headphones and pointed to her. She took a breath, let it out and punched in the number. A moment later, everyone in the room could hear the brrr of the distant ring.

  Once. Twice. Three times. Holt was willing to bet nobody in the room took a breath. Then there was a click, and a voice, high and scared and one he’d heard before, said, “Yeah-who’s this?”

  “It’s me-Billie.” Holt couldn’t believe how calm she sounded. Angry, yeah, but definitely not scared.

  Miley, on the other hand, was freaking out. Holt wouldn’t have thought his voice could get any higher, but it must be hitting close to high C.

  “Billie? What the hell! How’d you get this number?”

  “Caller ID, you moron,” Billie replied, and several people in the room had to stifle laughter.

  “Hey, you better watch who you’re callin’ names, okay? I’m not kiddin’ around here. You better not be talking to the cops, either, you hear me? Billie? You hear me? No cops!”

  “Yeah-” she cleared her throat; her eyes were closed “-yes, all right. Just…calm down, okay? Look, I’m doing what you want, I’ll be in the damn tournament when it starts tomorrow. I just want-” her eyes flicked to Holt’s for one panic-stricken moment, then she caught a quick breath and rushed on “-I need to know she’s okay.”

  “I told you, I’m not gonna hurt her. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Yeah, but she’s probably scared to death. Let me talk to her, okay? Just let me tell her-”

  “Hey, I know what you’re doing.” His voice went up the scale again. “You’re trying to keep me talking so you can trace this call. You better not be tryin’ to trace this call, you hear me? Won’t do you any good anyway, ’cause the kid’s not here.”

  Billie’s fingers were gripping the phone so hard her knuckles were white. “Where-”

  “Yeah, right, like I’m gonna tell you? Somewhere safe, is all you need to know. Somewhere you won’t find her, neither, not without me. So you just better not be talkin’ to the cops. Because if the cops do find me? If anything bad happens to me, you’re never gonna find her. You hear me, Billie? Nobody’s ever gonna see that little girl again.”

  Chapter 9

  The weather turned warmer that evening. The wind had died down; the front, or whatever it was, had moved on east. This being the desert, the temperature had dropped with the coming of darkness, and Holt knew it would be chilly by morning, but for now it was pleasant enough that the tourists were out strolling the Strip in droves.

  Billie and Holt had had dinner with Wade and Tierney, who had flipped a coin to decide which of the touristy mega-hotel/casinos they should stay in for their first trip to Vegas, and belated honeymoon to boot. The Venetian had won the toss. Holt and Billie had left the newlyweds waiting for their turn at a gondola ride and had driven back to Billie’s in time to meet the police technician who’d be setting up a monitor on Billie’s landline.

  While Holt and the techie had their heads together over the electronics, Billie had wandered out onto the patio in the backyard. After seeing the techie-whose name was Riley-to his van and locking up the house, Holt found her there, sitting cross-legged on the deck beside the empty pool. She wasn’t wearing a jacket, just the long-sleeved pullover she’d put on that noon after getting the phone call from Miley. Her SWAT outfit, he thought, smiling to himself. And at the same time his heart felt curiously heavy.

  “Hey,” he said, and she looked up at him, smiling just a little, but not saying anything.

  “What are you doing out here in the dark?” he asked, although it wasn’t really dark, with the light from the kitchen pouring through the windows and a three-quarter moon bright overhead. He sat down beside her, not cross-legged-his joints were no longer comfortable with such extremes-but with his feet dangling over the side of the pool.

  She looked down at her linked hands. “Just…you know. Thinking about stuff.”

  “Yeah, well…I guess you’ve got a lot to think about.”

  She took in a breath and shook back her hair. Looked up at the night sky. “Actually, I was thinking about the Grand Canyon.”

  What could he say to that? Considering everything that had happened to her in the past day or so, it seemed…unexpected. To say the least. Finally, he just said, “Yeah?” hoping she’d explain.

  Instead, she asked, “You ever been there?”

  “Nope,” he said. “How about you?”

  She shook her head. “Always wanted to. I meant to. I mean, I think everybody should see it, don’t you? It’s one of the most amazing things on the planet, and it’s right there. So close. And I’ve never been. Don’t you think that’s…I mean, it just seems wrong.” Her voice had an odd little vibration in it.

  It awakened a corresponding hum in his own chest, and he started to tell her something, then realized just in time that what he’d been about to say was, “We’ll go. When this is over. I’ll take you.” As if it was a given they’d be together then.

  “How come you have a pool with no water in it?” he asked after a moment.

  She gave a little half laugh, then shrugged. “I don’t know, it just seems like too much trouble. I mean, my parents had one, and they were always needing to do something to it-clean it, disinfect it, strain stuff out of it, fix the filter, heater…I think it’s kind of like owning a dog. You know? Ties you down.”

  It occurred to him that he did know. That he knew exactly what she meant, because he was the same. Hell, he didn’t even have a potted plant. “You’ve got plants,” he said. “Aren’t they a lot of trouble, too?”

  “Yeah, but if they die it’s not a big deal, you just throw them away and get new ones.” There was something defensive about the look she gave him. “Nobody cries for a plant.”

  “No strings,” Holt said.

  “Right.” After a moment, she took in another of those breaths that seemed like a portent-as if she’d turned some sort of mental page. “I was just thinking…it would be kind of nice to have water in the pool right now. I sort of wish I did. It would be nice to just…drift in the water…in the dark. You know?”

  “So you wouldn’t have to think,” Holt said softly, and she gave a light laugh and said, “Yeah…”

  Then she looked at him, and the naked longing in her face made him inhale sharply. He wondered if it was really the pool she was talking about at all, or if it was the strings she missed. Or if he was only projecting his own loneliness onto her. Loneliness he hadn’t even been aware of until now.

  He cleared his throat and said carefully, “I don’t have a pool, but a warm bath or shower sometimes works for me.”

  She shook her head, and he could see a wistful smile. “Not the shower. Showers always make me think-it’s sort of like a brain lubricant for me.”

  “Bath, then.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. “Come on-I’ll run it for you. Got any bubbles?”

  S
he was laughing when he pulled her up, but the laughter died quickly, and a second later she was in his arms. Not the way it had been with them before, with the chemistry and fireworks and pounding heartbeats, but quietly, gently, with her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek resting against his chest. He held her that way for a while, until he felt a tremor run through her. And in that moment, and that small shudder, he knew he wanted it, too-the water in the pool, the potted plants, a dog, maybe…most of all, this. A woman to hold, to share the Grand Canyon with, to run a warm bath for. No…not a woman. Just this one.

  “You’re cold,” he said with gravel in his throat. “Let’s go inside.”

  What is this I’m feeling? Billie thought. Not scared, not lost…but like I’ve been that, and then somebody came to find me and he’s got his arm around me, and now it’s almost as if I’ve never been anything but safe and warm. And most of all, not alone. I can barely remember what it felt like, all those years of being alone. As if they were a dream that’s gone from your head when you open your eyes.

  But how can that be, when the truth is, this is the dream, and one day soon I’ll wake up and he will be gone…

  “I don’t think I have any bubble bath,” she said. “Would dish soap do?”

  “I guess. It softens hands…” he intoned, and she stifled a laugh against his soft cotton shirt.

  In the kitchen, she got the bottle of dish soap from under the sink while Holt locked the door and turned off the lights, and they walked down the hall without touching. In the bathroom, she turned on the light, then stood holding the bottle of soap while he turned on the water in the bathtub, tested the water temperature and put in the old-fashioned stopper. When he finally straightened and his eyes reached for her across the brightly lit room, her heart stumbled.