“I never would have jumped out of the way if I knew you were there,” Carson continued as if Skye hadn’t spoken. “I only moved aside because in Texas, we don’t hit women. Even one like Glenda Doozier.”
“I know.” Skye patted his arm. “You’ve proven you’re always there for your family, so I’m sure you’d take a flying Glenda for me.”
“Anytime, sugar.” Carson’s voice was hoarse as he walked around to the driver’s side. “For a minute there, before Earl tackled his crazy wife, I was ready to draw my gun and blow her away.”
“It was a little surreal to see him make such a split-second interception.” Skye scrubbed her eyes with her fist. “If he can move like that, Earl should be playing for the Chicago Bears.”
“Nah, that boy has too much yardage between the goalposts to make the team.” Carson winked at her before starting the engine.
“True.”
“You sure you’re okay?” Carson asked worriedly as he reversed out of the Dooziers’ driveway. “Even if that dang fool woman didn’t plow into you, you did stumble around a lick.”
“Except for a little damage to my vanity, I’m fine,” Skye assured him.
“It’s a good thing”—Carson gripped the SUV’s steering wheel—“or I’d be using her for target practice and her husband would be in jail.”
“You sound just like your son.” Skye chuckled. “Do you remember me telling you about my experience as an Oompa-Loompa?” When her father-in-law nodded, she continued. “The reason I ended up orange was because Wally jumped out of the way when Glenda tried to shoot him with a paint gun. Like you today, he didn’t know I was behind him then either.”
“We’re going to have to put a bell around your neck,” Carson teased.
“Or let me handle the Dooziers without your or Wally’s ‘help.’” Skye smiled at the look of indignation on her father-in-law’s face, then glanced over her shoulder at the box of disposable cameras in the back of the Hummer. “What are you going to do with forty-seven homemade stun guns that may or may not work?”
“Well, I suppose I could rewire them and use them to take pictures of my grandbaby,” Carson suggested with a twinkle. “Or, I could dump them all in your burn barrel and we could have a bonfire.” At Skye’s appalled expression, he grinned. “But we probably should turn them into the police for proper disposal.”
“And to be tested to see if one like them was used in Zeke Lyons’s murder,” Skye said, then added, “Besides, there will be enough snapshots of this baby without ones from the Doozier Photography Studio. And who knows what kind of hazard cremating them might create.”
“Testing and proper disposal it is.”
“Phew.” Skye wiped a pretend drop of sweat from her forehead.
After a quick stop at the Catholic church to a light a candle for Wally’s safe return, Carson and Skye headed home. As her father-in-law drove the short distance between St. Francis and her house, Skye imagined Father Burns’s face when he opened up the candle donation box and found the hundred-dollar bill Carson had slipped into the slot while Skye had been praying.
Glancing affectionately at her generous father-in-law and his seemingly bottomless wallet, she smiled when he turned the SUV onto Brooks Road. It would be good to get home. Even if right now, home was an RV.
As Carson pulled into Skye’s driveway, her eyes widened and she stammered, “How… Who… What…”
“Did I forget to mention that I hired a crew to come in to tarp the house, clear up the downed trees from your property, and haul away the damaged cars?” Carson asked innocently.
“Yes. Yes, you did.” She frowned and said, “You really have to stop doing stuff like that. What if the insurance people didn’t want us to touch it? Now the company might not reimburse us.”
“I checked with both adjusters and they said we could start the cleanup.” Carson beamed. “I got their contact info from your cell while you were talking to that old guy at the church shelter.”
“I had my phone in my purse and my purse with me that whole time.” Skye scowled and her father-in-law raised his brows as if to say Your point? “Okay. I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you really have to stop swiping my cell.” She wrinkled her brow and asked, “How did you figure out my password to unlock the screen?”
“Sugar, 1234 is not a password.” Carson snickered. “And if you change it, don’t use your birthday or Wally’s or the baby’s.”
She wrinkled her brow, trying to think of a password she could remember. If she didn’t have something simple, she’d forever be looking it up. Maybe she’d use her weight. If she got any bigger with the twins, it would probably be a four-digit number soon.
“Fine,” Skye huffed, hoping Carson realized that when a woman said fine, she didn’t really mean it as okay, but rather that she was ending the argument and he needed to stop talking.
Clearly, her father-in-law didn’t get the hint, because he continued. “With the tarps covering the exposed first floor, any of your possessions that are recoverable are protected from the weather. That way, you can wait to deal with it all when you have more time.”
“Thanks.” Skye gritted her teeth and reminded herself that he meant well.
Heck! If it weren’t for her pregnancy hormones, she probably would have been grateful rather than irritated by his methods.
Carson pulled the Hummer up next to the motor home and turned off the engine, then checked his phone and frowned. “Quentin and the security team hit some bad traffic and won’t be here until six fifteen.”
“I need to call Dante.” Skye glanced at her watch. “But he won’t talk to me now because it’s after five and before seven.” When Carson shot her a puzzled glance, she elaborated. “He doesn’t take calls during dinner or the news. And his favorite program comes on at eight, so he won’t let Aunt Olive answer the phone then. That leaves me only between seven and eight.”
“Are you serious?” Carson took off his seat belt, then walked around the Hummer to help Skye get out of the vehicle. “How about the electrical outage? And is the television even back on?”
“Dante has a generator, and if the satellite isn’t working, he has an old-fashioned antenna.” Skye shrugged. “He probably made Aunt Olive get up on the roof to adjust it. Dante is in love with the machinations of reality television and never misses an episode of one of his beloved shows.”
“Your uncle is a man of many interests.” Carson’s tone was sardonic as he opened the motor home’s door for Skye and waved her inside.
“Getting Dante to talk about Zeke and the city council will be tricky,” Skye warned, walking over to the kitchen counter and plugging her cell into its charger.
“Why is that?” Carson tilted his head. “He’s your blood kin. Dante should be eager to provide you with any helpful information.”
“It’s complicated.” Skye turned to the fridge, grabbed two bottles of water, and handed her father-in-law one of them. “You know about all the crap Dante has tried with Wally and the police department?”
“Wally’s mentioned some of the issues,” Carson answered, uncapping the Dasani and taking a long drink. “But surely with Wally’s life in danger, Dante will call a truce in his petty vendetta.”
“Unfortunately, my uncle won’t see the connection between finding Wally and fessing up to whatever he’s got going on in the city council.” Skye finished her water. “My uncle thrives on pettiness. He has taken spiteful to a new level and gives a new meaning to the word ‘feud.’ He makes Snow White’s stepmother seem sweet.”
“Worse comes to worst, I’ll buy his cooperation.” Carson’s hands fisted. “He seems motivated by the almighty dollar, so I’ll feed his greed.”
“Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that. In my experience as a psychologist, rewarding bad behavior just leads to even worse behavior. And the idea of an even-worse-behaved D
ante is terrifying.” Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin under the sink, Skye headed toward the master bath. “I better make a pit stop before Quentin and your guys get here.”
As she used the facilities, she realized she hadn’t had to pee since just before she left the police station, which probably meant she was dehydrated. And that was a problem because she didn’t have time for muscle cramps or another round of Braxton-Hicks contractions.
While she washed her hands, she vowed to drink another bottle of water immediately, and a couple more before bedtime. Hearing the motor coach’s outer door open and men’s voices, she quickly straightened her hair, swiped on some lip gloss, and rushed out to greet Quentin and the security guys.
When Quentin swung her into a tight hug, she blinked back tears. He could pass as Wally’s younger brother and his presence just reinforced his cousin’s absence.
While she was busy investigating Zeke Lyons’s murder, she could forget that Wally had been kidnapped. Or at least pushed it to the back of her mind. But now the fact that he was gone couldn’t be ignored.
Without any warning, fear and worry slammed into her chest, robbing her of her next breath. Forcing herself to inhale, she wiped the moisture from her cheeks and stepped away from Quentin.
Turning to the huge man standing next to Wally’s cousin, she held out her hand. “Hi. You must be Mr. Tucker. I’m Carson’s daughter-in-law, Skye. Thank you for coming so quickly to help get my husband back safely.”
“Call me Tuck.” The enormous man with the dark buzz cut gently took her hand. “Mr. Boyd has always treated me and my team right. I’d be here even if he weren’t my boss.” He squeezed her fingers. “If Wally is still alive, I promise you that I’ll get him home to you in one piece.”
Skye resolutely ignored the “if he’s still alive” part and said, “I’d appreciate it. The baby and I need him whole, not in several parts.” When Tuck nodded his understanding, she asked, “Where is the rest of your team?”
“Familiarizing themselves with the area,” Tuck said.
Skye nodded and gestured at the couch and chairs in the living room. “Why don’t you all have a seat? I’d like to hear exactly how this is going to work.”
The men refused her offer of food or drink and made themselves comfortable. While they settled in, Skye grabbed a bottle of water for herself and perched on the edge of a kitchen chair she’d dragged from the table.
Once everyone was seated, Quentin put a metal briefcase on the coffee table and opened the lid. Inside were stacks of twenties, fifties, and hundreds.
Carson pointed at the ransom. “We have a list of the serial numbers and this case has a tracking device installed in the hinges.”
“I’m guessing the itemized numbers and GPS-enabled briefcase isn’t something you threw together in a few hours.” Skye raised her brows. “This is something you’ve had prepared for quite a while.”
“Correct.” Quentin narrowed his eyes. “Wally is right. You aren’t just a pretty face.” When Skye didn’t react, he explained, “Dealing in foreign countries is a little different than in the U.S. Occasionally, we’ve had to provide ‘bonuses’ to ensure our employees’ safety.”
“Lovely.” Skye recalled her conversation with Quentin during the night before her wedding. They’d been discussing why Quentin didn’t want Wally to take Carson’s offer of a job at CB International.
Quentin had said that Wally was too honest. He’d called his cousin a Dudley Do-Right and claimed that Wally couldn’t see, and didn’t believe, that there were a lot of shades of gray in the world.
Skye had asked him why being honest would be a problem, and Quentin had said it would threaten the Boyd empire. She hadn’t been able to understand why a company couldn’t just do the right thing, but Quentin had explained that sometimes corporations had to use any means necessary to keep the business in the black and beat the competition.
At that moment, Skye had realized that because Wally would never be comfortable cutting those kinds of corners and just plain wouldn’t do it, corporate life would destroy him. And although she’d never wanted Wally to take a job in his father’s company, before then, she would have accompanied him to Texas if he’d decided to do so. But understanding what it would do to Wally, she’d vowed to fight him if he ever considered making that move.
While Skye had been taking a stroll down memory lane, Tuck had placed a long, camo duffel bag next to the briefcase. Now she watched him unzip it and pull the sides apart. The sinister black gun inside looked an awful lot like one she’d seen in Shooter, an action movie she and Wally had gone to see last spring.
Clearing her throat, she asked, “Is that a sniper rifle in that bag?”
“Two.” Tuck opened another compartment and the first gun’s twin was revealed.
Skye gazed at the duffel’s numerous pockets. She was pretty darn sure they contained enough ammunition to take down a small country. Obviously, in Carson’s part of Texas, security had a whole different meaning than Skye’s limited experience in Illinois.
“What do you plan to do with the rifles?” she asked, pretty sure she knew the answer.
Tuck caressed the gun’s barrel and his brown eyes darkened until they were nearly black. “I plan on shooting anyone who needs to die.”
Glancing at her father-in-law, Skye said, “I’d like some specifics, please.”
“We’re prepared for two different scenarios. In one, the kidnappers have Wally with them when they come to get the money. In that case, Quentin, who has been training with Tuck’s men for the past couple of years, will be set up somewhere with a clear view of the ransom drop site. If there’s a way to do it while ensuring Wally’s safety, Quentin will take out any of the kidnappers who are present.”
“He’ll kill them?” Skye squeaked. Could Quentin really kill someone in cold blood?
“If necessary to save my cousin, hell yeah,” Quentin said, his tone completely unruffled. “A lot depends on what the situation looks like at the time. Are they armed? What are their positions relative to Wally? Can I get them all before they can do anything to him?”
“Why Quentin and not one of the security men?” Skye asked.
“Because next to Tuck, who’s needed elsewhere, I’m the best shot.” Quentin stared at Skye. “Do you have a problem with that?”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. She didn’t like it. But Wally’s life in exchange for a criminal’s? There was no contest.
“Good for you, darlin’.” Carson got up and stood with his hands on her shoulders. He inhaled sharply and continued. “However, it’s much more likely they’ll have Wally stashed somewhere else, which is where Tuck and his team come in. They’ll follow whoever picks up the money.”
“After the kidnappers have the ransom, shouldn’t we wait to see if they release Wally before we do anything else?” Skye could barely speak.
“We can’t take the chance. Once they have the money and count it, they have no incentive to free Wally or keep him alive.” Carson shoved his fingers through his hair. “And depending on where they have him, the tracker in the briefcase might not work. Which would mean we’d have no idea how to find Wally or the bad guys.”
“What if the kidnappers see Tuck or his men and execute Wally?” Skye’s pulse was racing and she tried to calm down. She could almost feel her blood pressure rising. This couldn’t be good for the babies.
“They won’t.” Tuck voice was utterly sure. “My team and I did two tours in Afghanistan and two more in Iraq. We never once were spotted and we never ever missed our target. The scumbags holding Wally will be incapacitated without harming your husband.” He paused and stared into her eyes. “Mr. Boyd wouldn’t risk his only son if he wasn’t absolutely certain of our ability to bring this mission to a successful conclusion. Successful being Wally coming home alive.”
“Right. Of course.�
� Skye was still nervous and didn’t completely believe Tuck’s assurances. But she didn’t really have any choice. “So does that mean you’re making the drop, Dad?”
“Yes. That was what the kidnapper demanded.” Carson shrugged. “They have doubtlessly seen my picture online, so I have no choice. After I get the call and hear Wally’s voice, I’ll put the briefcase in the trash can.”
“I’m coming with you,” Skye said. When all three men started to yell at her, she added, “I’ll wait in the car, but if you ever want to see your grandchild, Dad, you won’t try to leave me behind.”
Chapter 20
“See what you have done! In a minute I shall melt away!”
—Wicked Witch of the West
Skye waited for Carson, Quentin, and Tuck to calm down. They each presented an argument as to why she shouldn’t accompany them to drop off the ransom, then she crossed her arms and refused to budge on her decision. Finally, after wresting several concessions from her, the men gave up and agreed she could go along.
Once that was settled, the three guys left to reconnoiter the drop-off site. They wanted to map out the property’s access points and find the best spot for the sniper station.
Skye closed the door behind them and blew out a sigh of relief. She needed some time to herself. She’d been surrounded by people since Carson’s arrival and she wanted a few moments to think about everything that had happened, as well as to plan her future actions.
Not really hungry, but knowing she should eat, Skye heated up a can of tomato soup and made a toasted cheese sandwich. She had to call Dante soon, but the conversation would go better if she was centered.
As she ate her supper and drank another bottle of water, Skye thought about Tuck’s plans. She had to admit that she was glad she hadn’t given in to her guilt and told Roy about Wally’s kidnapping. Unlike her father-in-law, there was no way in the world the Scumble River Police Department would be able to bring in a top ex-military extraction team. Not to mention have access to the type of equipment Tuck had described.
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