“And now he’s missing?”
Dane balled his fist.
“More like he left.” Dane relayed what he’d found and didn’t find. “I already tried his cell. It’s off. Can you tell me why he snuck out of his own house with packed bags but not the kid?”
“Sounds like running away to me,” Chance answered.
“It sounds like Tucker Hughes knows something,” Dane said. “And I’d like to ask him what that something is.”
“All right, Captain, then let me work some of my magic and see if I can’t pull this rabbit out of a hat.”
Once their call ended, Dane took a second to let a breath out. He could feel a tension headache rising behind his eyes. Too many questions. Too many isolated events or too many connected ones that made no sense.
Yet.
Dane rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the houses around them. A car was parked in the driveway across the street. Maybe they had seen something or knew something. Dane pulled up Rachel’s number and called her.
“I’m going to ask the neighbors some questions,” he said by way of greeting when she answered. “I’ll just be across the street.”
“Sure thing, Mom.”
Dane felt his brow rise.
“You’re trying not to freak the kid out, aren’t you?” he ventured.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered. “Anything else?”
Dane started toward the road. “Yeah, go ahead and lock the door. There’s something weird going on here. Stay on your toes.”
“Sounds good,” she said, voice chipper.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Dane was a second away from ending the call when Rachel responded.
“Love you, too. ’Bye.”
The call ended. The surprise at Rachel’s words and how they resonated with something he couldn’t deny was pleasant within him, didn’t.
Chapter Seven
Rachel talked Lonnie into showing her his art portfolio while Dane went to talk to the neighbors. It wasn’t due until the end of the year, but she was surprised to see he had been vigilantly filling it. Lonnie was sitting on his bed trying to look like he didn’t care, but Rachel called his bluff.
“These are really good, Lonnie. You must have worked really hard on them.” She paused at a collection of doodles. They were in the style of a comic. She wasn’t lying. They were really good. “This looks cool.”
She held out the page.
For the first time since she’d known the boy, Lonnie’s eyes lit up.
“It’s not finished,” he said. “I’m working on the other pages still. Then it’ll be an entire comic book.”
Rachel didn’t have to check the smile that sprang to her lips. Any child expressing genuine passion for art made her happy. Add in the fact that that child had been written off by most as just an angry, unhappy boy? Well, that made it doubly wonderful to see him so enthused.
She delicately placed the picture back in the portfolio. “And what does your uncle think of all your art? Surely he has to be as impressed as I am.”
Lonnie shrugged. “He’s not into art.”
Rachel was careful to put the portfolio back in the space between the bed and the wall.
“Just because someone’s not into art doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate a good job,” she pointed out.
He shrugged again. This time he didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s just not his thing.”
“You know, I don’t know much about your uncle,” she started. “Why don’t you tell me a little about him? Like what do you two do for fun?”
Rachel once again tried to get that open mind back, but she saw her answer in his eyes when he finally met her stare. Tucker was rarely home and they didn’t do anything for fun. Still, she let him say it.
“He works a lot,” he said. “And when he comes home he’s tired. But it’s okay. I don’t mind. I like being alone.”
A vise went around Rachel’s heart and squeezed.
She didn’t know what she wanted to say but knew she wanted to say something. Yet movement out of the corner of her eye turned her attention to the window.
A black Lincoln pulled into the driveway.
It wasn’t a van, but the anxiety was immediate.
“Does Tucker have a second vehicle?” she asked.
Lonnie followed her gaze. “No.”
“Recognize that car?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Rachel looked across the street to the house Dane had walked to. She couldn’t see him or any neighbors outside it. She pulled out her phone as the back door of the Lincoln opened. Tucker Hughes stepped out—or rather, he spilled out. Even from the second-story window, Rachel could see the blood caked across his face. He limped as he started toward the house.
“He’s hurt,” Lonnie whispered.
The front two doors of the car didn’t open, but Rachel knew better. Just because no one got out of the front, didn’t mean they weren’t threats.
“And he’s not alone,” she said.
It was a moment of pure déjà vu.
Rachel went straight for Dane’s number.
* * *
THERE WAS NO doubt that Tucker Hughes was in pain. Dane stood in the shadows of the house across the street and watched as the man wobbled to his front door. Whoever’d driven him stayed in the car. Dane took a picture of the vehicle and its tag.
Tucker knocked against the door.
Dane’s phone rang. It was Rachel.
“Hide,” he greeted. “Something’s not right. I’m coming over.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “We’re upstairs.”
Her voice was so soft. Vulnerable. It moved Dane to action.
He called Billy. Sliding his free hand down to his holster, he crouched low and hurried across the street to the back of his truck. He’d had to park farther back, since Henry’s car had been in the way. Maybe Tucker and the men in the car thought Dane’s vehicle belonged to the neighbor. Either way, he didn’t give it or Dane a second glance as he pulled his keys out and worked on the front door.
“Reed here,” Billy answered. Once again, Dane didn’t bother with pleasantries. Tucker went inside. Whoever was in the car didn’t try to follow. Dane couldn’t see past the window tint to get a description.
“Tucker just showed up, bloody, from a black Lincoln,” he said, copying Rachel’s whisper. “At least two people are still inside the car. Rachel and Lonnie are in the house. I told her to hide, but I’m going in.”
“Be there as fast as we can.”
Dane ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. If the passengers in the car were looking toward the other side of the house, there was no way he was going to be able to stay unseen while he made a dash through the side yard. But that was a chance he was going to take. Dane still didn’t know what was going on. He could have been jumping to conclusions, but then again, his gut was firm in its assessment that something was not right.
Keeping his hand on the butt of his gun, Dane took a deep breath and ran.
No one shot or yelled or tried to get his attention when he got to the side of the house. He didn’t pause to celebrate. Keeping low to avoid being seen through the first-floor windows, he looped around the back of the house to the porch. It wasn’t missing any steps like the front was, but it wheezed something awful under his weight. Dane cringed, trying to make it to the door. The floor went from a wheeze to a wicked creak.
He wasn’t surprised when the doorknob turned.
Instead he was ready.
Tucker’s expression went from confused to afraid in the blink of his swollen eye. The gun pointing at him probably wasn’t helping matters.
“Don’t make a sound,” Dane warned. “I don’t want your friends coming in before we can talk. Got it?”
Dane didn’t know much about Tucker, he’d be the first to admit that, but at least he knew the man wasn’t wholly stupid. He nodded and retreated backward into the house, both hands in the air. Dane kept the gun trained on him. If he really was blowing this whole thing out of proportion, he was going to get a lot of grief over how he was acting.
But he wasn’t going to apologize for it.
Not when Rachel and Lonnie were still in the area.
Dane eased the door shut behind him. Tucker watched, eyes as wide as they could go considering how swollen and bloodied he was.
“I’m Captain Dane Jones with the Riker County Sheriff’s Department.” Dane introduced himself. He didn’t whisper, but his voice was low. “I have some questions.” He started to lower his gun. “Okay?”
Tucker nodded. He kept his eyes on Dane. “Where’s Lonnie?” he asked.
“Who are the men outside?” Dane countered. Tucker lowered his hands to his sides.
“Where’s Lonnie?” Tucker repeated.
“Don’t worry. He’s okay. But judging by your face, you’re not. Who are the men outside?”
Tucker shifted his weight. He threaded his fingers together. His gaze bounced from Dane to his gun and back again. He was uncomfortable and not just because he was hurt. Something else was bothering him.
“I need to know where Lonnie is,” he said. “Now.”
“You mean the kid that you left in the middle of the night?”
Tucker’s lips thinned.
“I came back,” he muttered.
“You still left. Why?”
Dane was mindful of his service weapon’s weight in his hand and the space between him and Tucker. Was the man stupid enough to try to disable Dane?
And if so, why?
What the hell was going on?
A car door shut in the distance. With that, Tucker’s weird behavior took another turn. This time it was straight to fear.
“They can’t know you’re here,” he rasped. “No one but Lonnie is supposed to be here.”
“That’s not how it works,” Dane said, eyeing the front door. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”
Tucker followed his gaze. It was like he was seeing a ghost.
“They’ll kill me,” he said simply. “They’ll kill me if they think I called in the cops.”
There was no more fear. No. It was worse than that. The man was terrified.
It made up Dane’s mind. “You do anything and I’ll take you both down.”
Tucker jerked his head up to nod. Dane raised his gun to prove he meant what he said. He fell back to the doorway that led from the main hall into the kitchen. If anyone wanted to get to the stairs, they’d have to get past him first. Until then he was going to listen. He needed to know what was going on.
The front door opened without a knock. Whoever it was, even their movements into the house sounded aggressive.
“You’re not thinking about running again, are you, Tuck?” The voice belonged to a man. It was deep, but Dane couldn’t place it. It also clearly held no love for Tucker Hughes. “Levi might have given you a second chance, but I’m here to tell you there won’t be a third.” His footsteps slowed. Dane tightened his grip on the gun. If Tucker decided to give up his location, he’d have to fight sooner rather than later.
“I’m not running,” Tucker declared. There was more backbone in his voice than Dane expected of the man he’d just seen drowning in fear. The other man must have heard it, too.
“You’re damn right you’re not running.” The other man spat. “Fool me once, Tuck.”
“I’m not fooling anyone,” Tucker snapped back. “I was just looking for Lonnie, is all.”
“What do you mean you’re looking for him? You’re saying he’s not here?”
“I didn’t say that, I—” Tucker stopped. Dane hoped he didn’t look toward the kitchen.
“I—I what?” Heavy footsteps barreled down the hallway. Dane held his breath, muscles tensing. “You know when Levi told me your part in all this, I laughed. Do you wanna know why, ol’ Tuck? Because I couldn’t believe the entire plan came back to you of all people.” The other man snickered. “You buckle under even the slightest pressure. Hell, I remember how you quaked at every football game and you weren’t even off the bench. Ready to cry if the coach even thought about putting you in. And now?”
Dane heard a soft thud and Tucker’s intake of breath. The man must have hit him.
“Now I’m the only one who isn’t surprised that you royally screwed this.”
Dane imagined Tucker cowering on the other side of the wall. However, he was wrong. Tucker bit back.
“At least I’m not the one who got outmatched by a woman and a kid.”
They could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. Dane’s own anger cascaded over him, coiling his muscles even tighter. His gut continued to grumble. Tucker wasn’t just a neglectful uncle, he was a suspect.
“You listen here, Tuck,” began the other man. His words had turned toxic, slithering around in a barely contained rage. Dane recognized the sound. Years ago he’d heard the same in his own voice. “For whatever reason, the boss thought he needed you to keep the boy safe. The operative word? Thought. The moment we caught you trying to get the heck out of Dodge was the moment you became even more useless than you already were. We don’t need you. Not anymore.”
Another sharp intake of breath let Dane know the man was getting physical again. Tucker whimpered. “What you are going to do for me is tell me where that boy is or else I’m going to kill you. Plain and simple. So make your choice. Now.”
In Dane’s head he was already turning the corner, gun ready, to keep Tucker from making a choice and to keep the mystery man from dishing out the consequence of whatever that choice might be. Planning ahead hadn’t always been Dane’s strong suit, but now, after what had happened to David, he tried his damnedest to keep two steps ahead of the game. Yet not even the most skilled of strategists could account for every piece on the game board. A lesson Dane was reminded of when something happened that neither he, Tucker nor their mystery man had planned.
A thump shook the ceiling.
The mystery man laughed. “Looks like I might not need you at all. Sounds like the boy is upstairs. Safe and sound.”
Dane swung around the corner. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”
The mystery man didn’t have a gun, but he did have a knife. It was an angry-looking thing with a blade that stretched at least six inches. It drew a stark contrast to the skin of Tucker’s neck. All the man had to do was change his gaze to Dane and he was still in a position of power.
And he knew it.
After the surprise shook free, a smirk drew up one side of his lips.
“I figured Tuck would pull something,” he said, all humor. “Other than trying to run away. And who might you be?”
Without declaring his intentions verbally, the man only had to press the knife to Tucker’s skin. It held Dane and him both captive without the man having to utter any threats.
“I’m with the Riker County Sheriff’s Department and you need to drop your weapon. Now.”
The man was tall and lean and had a farmer’s tan peeking out from beneath his plain T-shirt. His jeans weren’t faded like Dane’s but dark and new, like they’d just been bought, and his shoes were shiny enough that the reflection of the fluorescents in the hallway bounced off them. It was like he was a man caught between two worlds. Like he was still in the process of getting ready for a party or in the process of winding down from one. Even his blond hair was slicked back, yet he had a chin covered in stubble.
He also didn’t seem nonplussed that a man of the law had a gun trained on him. He pressed the knife forward. Even in his profile, Dane saw Tucker cringe.
“I’m warning you,�
�� Dane said, pulling out his lowest baritone. Still the man didn’t move a muscle or show any signs of fear. “Backup is on the way,” Dane added. “And I’m here to tell you, you’re leaving this house in either cuffs or a body bag. Those are your choices.”
Dane took the smallest of steps forward.
It only made the man’s grin widen.
Dane heard the creak behind him two seconds too late.
“There’s always a third choice,” said a new voice from behind him. Dane’s blood froze. “Always.”
Chapter Eight
Rachel kept one arm wrapped around Lonnie’s body, fastening his back to her chest and his arms to his sides. She had the other over his mouth, trying her best to keep him quiet. She didn’t like to get physical, but she also didn’t like what they’d heard downstairs.
She definitely didn’t like it when Lonnie had tried to run down the stairs toward the men who seemed to want him.
Telling Lonnie to hide in his own home when Tucker approached the house wasn’t something he’d taken too well. He hadn’t understood why they’d needed to hide. Rachel had still been struggling to convince him to hide in his room when Dane started talking to Tucker. Lonnie had, thankfully, quieted by then. Like Rachel, he’d wanted to listen to what his uncle had to say. So that was why they had been in the small hallway connecting all the rooms on the second floor when the third man came in.
Then Rachel had seen the same fear she felt reflected in Lonnie’s eyes when that man had spoken.
It was the same sandy-haired man who had shown up at the school.
Rachel didn’t dare move as three of the men spoke, but she heard every word.
So did Lonnie.
If Rachel wasn’t so afraid that they would hear her move, she would have gone the few feet between her and Lonnie and pulled him back to his room. Instead the two of them stood in silence, letting the conversation below float up the stairs. Apparently their run-in with the man at the school hadn’t been a stroke of bad luck on their part. They had wanted Lonnie. But why?
And how did Tucker play into it all?
The Negotiation Page 6