Kidnapped at Christmas

by Barb Han

  “How do you know who took my sister?” Jonathon’s shock twisted his face into angry lines.

  There had been no pleading in her tone. She had been stating simple fact.

  “Forget it. You’re making this up to confuse the issue. You shouldn’t have been outside that day,” he said. “Mary Jane wasn’t allowed and you convinced her to play. Her death is your fault.”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” she defended, for all the good it would do. He’d made up his mind. His sister’s death was on her.

  Anger flared his nostrils as he straddled her and smacked her again. His legs were like vise grips. “You’re a liar.”

  “Which would still be better than killing someone for the wrong reason,” she retorted, and she could tell that his anger was rising. “Mary Jane loved you, Jonathon. You were her big brother. She idolized you.”

  He stilled as though he was considering her words.

  And then his gaze bore down on her.

  “You’re trying to distract me.” He belted her again and this time she spit blood.

  “Jonathon, think about what you’re about to do—”

  “Enough,” he ground out. And then he replaced the duct tape, securing it over her already raw lips. “You have to pay for what you did.”

  Meg tensed as the gun barrel pressed between her eyes.

  * * *

  “IT WAS HIM. The face from the sketch. I couldn’t see it before. The sketch made his nose too big and the hair was off but I do now that I know,” Wyatt said to the sheriff as he burst into his office.

  “Jonathon Fjord,” Sawmill said with a bowed head. “Mary Jane’s brother.”

  “He headed west from the restaurant parking lot,” Wyatt informed. “At least I think. I checked east and didn’t see anyone.”

  Sawmill made an announcement over the radio, alerting his deputies. Next, he called Janis in and asked her to put out a Be on the Lookout, or BOLO, so that all law-enforcement personnel would be watching.

  “What do we do next?” Wyatt asked.

  “There’s nothing to do but wait.” Sawmill shot him a sympathetic look. Wyatt didn’t need the man’s sympathy. He needed to know where Jonathon was taking Meg.

  At least she’d been alive, and he figured Jonathon was keeping her alive for a reason. There was some measure of reassurance there.

  That was more than an hour ago. Time was running out.

  “How well do you know this person?” Wyatt asked.

  “I spoke to the family’s neighbors. They described him as a quiet and polite young man. They were in shock he could be involved in anything remotely like this,” the sheriff supplied. “Mary Jane’s parents moved to the outskirts of town after her disappearance and mostly kept to themselves over the years. We had to do a little tracking to find them. They’d changed their names to avoid being dragged into interviews every time interest in the story picked up again.”

  “I’m guessing since her brother moved away last year no one suspected him,” Wyatt said.

  The sheriff nodded.

  “What about his parents? Would they have any idea where he’d take her?” Wyatt paced around Sheriff Sawmill’s office. He’d made more laps than he cared to count.

  “I have a deputy heading over there now, but we didn’t get much over the phone interview.” Sawmill moved to his desk.

  “You said you spoke to them recently. What about that interview?” Wyatt asked, unable and unwilling to sit back and do nothing now that Aubrey was safely tucked away at the Butler ranch and Dade himself watched over her to ensure her safety. It might be overkill using Dade and the Butlers for that job alone but Wyatt wouldn’t take chances with his little girl.

  “Good point. I’ll review the transcript and see if there are any clues as to where he might be taking her,” Sawmill admitted as his fingers pounded the keyboard. It was better than the hen-peck method.

  Wyatt moved behind the sheriff. “What are the chances he’d cross state lines?”

  “It’s a possibility we can’t ignore, which is why I issued the BOLO.”

  All Wyatt cared about was bringing Meg home where she belonged. Her life might be here in Cattle Barge, but he was starting to see the possibility that his might be, too.

  Whether they were in Austin or here, as long as they were together with their daughter the rest could sort itself out. She could work, not work. Hell, he didn’t care one way or another as long as he got to come home to her and the baby every night.

  If Wyatt strained, he could see the interview, especially after the sheriff blew up the type and leaned toward the monitor. He must have blown the document up by 140 percent.

  He rubbed tired eyes and rolled his neck before straining to read the words.

  Wyatt could easily see the interview from his vantage point. Since it was better to ask forgiveness than permission, he scanned the document, searching for a clue to where Jonathon might’ve taken Meg. All the air squeezed from his lungs thinking about harm coming to her.

  The sheriff’s personal cell belted out its ringtone.

  “Excuse me,” Sawmill said. He answered the call and immediately walked toward the hallway.

  Wyatt read the entry where Jonathon had taken Mary Jane for her tenth and last birthday. To a property on the lake where the two rode horses, her favorite activity.

  The only thing Wyatt was certain of was that the sheriff was on the wrong track. Send in Sawmill or one of his deputies and Jonathon might kill her.

  Which left him no choice but to strike out on his own.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The night was pitch-black and chilly. It was the kind of dark that made it so black outside that the moon wasn’t even visible.

  Normally Wyatt would see this as a good opportunity to go fishing.

  Now he saw it as good cover for hunting—hunting a criminal.

  He cut off his truck’s engine less than a mile from the site he believed Jonathon had Meg. He’d used his smartphone’s GPS to find the place.

  The sheriff’s deputy was on the other side of the county at an abandoned strip center based on a tip from the Fjords.

  On the off chance the deputy hit the nail on the head, that base was covered. Call it gut instinct or intuition, but Wyatt feared the information was wrong. He decided to take another approach in hopes one of them would find her in time.

  Any other possibility had to be pushed outside the boundary of possibility.

  Besides, if Jonathon and Mary Jane were as close as Meg had said, it made sense he would take Meg to the last place he remembered spending time with his sister.

  According to Mrs. Fjord, the lake was Jonathon’s favorite place. The property around the lake—including the stable—had since been split up to sell as lakefront property and this particular spot had been bought by a family for personal use.

  When Wyatt had pulled up GPS coordinates of the area, he’d immediately locked onto the perfect building to take a hostage.

  Wyatt hoped a family wasn’t there or he could potentially be counting a lot of bodies. No, he stopped himself right there. This wouldn’t end in tragedy. Anger fired through him, heating his skin against the frigid night air blasting toward him.

  Meg had to be all right. There was no other choice.

  Getting to the location without using some kind of light was impossible. So Wyatt covered his cell inside his jacket and dimmed the screen as low as it could go without losing all contrast.

  Problems were mounting. What if she wasn’t there? What if she was? How could he get inside the structure without alerting anyone? He’d seen a demo of shipping container homes once before, and opening the door had made more noise than an oncoming freight train. Not to mention the fact that it brought in unexpected light. He circled the building. This one had a door, at least.

  But, there was no wa
y to get any intel without breaching the building. The place was closed up tight, save for the metal door. Wyatt’s biggest fear was that he wouldn’t be able to see what was going on without alerting Jonathon to the fact that he was there.

  Basically, he might be better off if he drove his truck straight into one wall and hoped for the best. Frustration nipped at him. There was too much on the line.

  One mistake could cost him the woman he loved.

  Taking her to the lake would be a stroke of genius on Jonathon’s part. The sheriff had sent a deputy to the strip center and another to the site Mary Jane had last been spotted. No one would think about this place.

  Wyatt fired off a text to the sheriff, letting him know that Wyatt was planning to investigate.

  Stepping lightly, Wyatt followed the waterline around the lake. At least the ground was cold and hard. Sounds of night, crickets chirping and other insects filled the air. At least on the water’s edge there weren’t a lot of trees.

  A sticky blanket of something pulled at Wyatt’s face. A spiderweb?

  He didn’t want to think about the size of a spider it would take to make one large enough to spread from one tree to the next in this part of the terrain.

  At least the cold would ward off snakes. They didn’t bother him much. He just didn’t need the distraction.

  There were other creatures that could get the best of him in these lands. A wild boar caught off guard would be enough to do him in.

  Texting the sheriff to ask for backup was the right call but waiting could cost Meg’s life. If Wyatt was right and Jonathon somehow got the jump on him, Meg could pay the ultimate price anyway. Trying to do this without alerting anyone to his plans would be stupid.

  What about his newfound family? Both Dade and Dalton looked like they could handle themselves in any situation. They were clearly less experienced than the sheriff and deputies but they’d seen and done more than most civilians. Wyatt didn’t want to put them in jeopardy without them knowing full well what they would be signing up for.

  He’d give full disclosure of the dangers.

  They’d offered help before and he’d already trusted them with the care of his daughter.

  Without them, he could end up dead, with no parent for Aubrey.

  After evaluating his options, he determined that notifying his brothers of his location would be a smart move. Given more time, he could’ve come up with a better plan of attack.

  Time was the enemy and he had no idea if Meg was still breathing.

  Again, he wouldn’t allow himself to consider the possibility that she wasn’t.

  He fired off a text, giving his location and brief details about his mission.

  Then he put his phone on silent. If he had to sacrifice himself to ensure Aubrey grew up with a mother, he wouldn’t hesitate. His own mother had been the rock in his life and most likely the reason he was a successful businessman and hadn’t ended up on the wrong side of the law. The line had been blurred a few times during his rebellious teenage years, but he’d come full circle.

  He’d made her proud before she died. He’d seen that in her eyes, too. Every child deserved that chance.

  Wyatt moved stealthily along the shoreline as though stalking prey, the fight building inside him with every forward step. He’d tucked his Glock inside the band of his jeans and pulled his shirttail out to cover it. He’d learned a long time ago not to show his hand before he had to, and concealing his gun could keep Jonathon off balance should things go south.

  He chanced a glance at his phone, checking his location on the map against the target. Having cell coverage here was surprising and fortunate.

  The place was dead ahead. Wyatt blacked out the screen and returned his cell to his pocket. Since he’d been walking for more than twenty minutes, his eyes were adjusting to the dark. Another advantage. He’d take what he could get and be grateful at this point.

  All the windows were sealed off. Wyatt walked the perimeter trying to get a good feel for the place and what the floor plan might be.

  Light spilled underneath the crack of the back door. As he made his way toward the door, it swung open. Wyatt froze.

  A male stalked outside and emptied a bucket. Surely, Jonathon wouldn’t be so haphazard as to leave the back door unlocked. Had Wyatt made the wrong call in coming here?

  Heart hammering, he started to plan his retreat. He’d made a mistake.

  The guy went back inside and closed the door. He didn’t lock it, confirming what Wyatt already knew. This couldn’t be the right place.

  Another thought struck. Was Jonathon too confident no one would find him there?

  And then he heard it. The sound, that sound. The heartbreaking sound of Meg crying out in pain.

  Wyatt doubled back and stood at the door, listening. One noise and he’d be found out. It took all the strength he had not to throw open that door, burst into the room and take Jonathon down with his bare hands. Hell, Wyatt would shoot the man if it meant saving Meg.

  Again, tipping his hand could be fatal. So he waited for Meg to scream again, clenching his back teeth so hard he thought they might crack. He fisted his free hand and released, repeating a couple of times to work off some of his tension.

  And he waited.

  Meg screamed again and Wyatt used the noise to cover any sounds that might come from opening the door. He cracked it enough to see Meg curled in a ball on the floor with Jonathon standing over her. Torturing her?

  His gaze flew to Jonathon’s hands to check for a weapon. He didn’t see one, but that didn’t mean one wasn’t within reach.

  Jonathon sounded agitated as he yelled for her to be still. He was kneeling over her, doing something with that bucket Wyatt couldn’t make out.

  The room was small. It wouldn’t take but a couple of strides for Wyatt to bridge the distance.

  Every single muscle in Wyatt’s body corded as he slipped inside the door. And then Meg released a scream that nearly cracked his chest in half.

  Wyatt took two giant steps before diving on top of Fjord, knocking him off balance and off Meg. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Meg’s hands were bound. Duct tape was over her mouth, and he had to assume that her legs were taped, as well.

  Wyatt and Fjord crashed hard onto the concrete. Jonathon was small in comparison to Wyatt, but he was scrappy enough to twist onto his back and launch a knee into Wyatt’s groin.

  Air whooshed out of Wyatt’s lungs as he tried to recover while taking an elbow to the left eye.

  Meg was somewhere in the background, trying to wriggle free.

  Wyatt climbed on top of Jonathon and captured him in between his powerful thigh muscles.

  A fist came up so fast that it barely registered Jonathon was holding something in his hand until the object slammed into his forehead.

  Momentarily stunned, Wyatt shook his head.

  In the next second, he was being tossed onto his shoulder. The smaller man took full advantage of the blow that Wyatt was recovering from.

  “Get out of here,” Wyatt said to Meg. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her scooting toward them. Wrong direction, he thought as something—blood?—oozed over his eye.

  Jonathon was pounding Wyatt with fists, kicks. The guy was coming at Wyatt with everything he had.

  Wyatt fought back, but a bout of dizziness was making it difficult to keep his bearings.

  And then Meg must’ve done something to get Jonathon’s attention because he spun around facing away from Wyatt.

  That’s all the leverage Wyatt needed. He forced himself to focus and then threw his arms around Jonathon’s midsection, clamping his arms at his sides.

  Jonathon might’ve caught Wyatt off guard before, but he wouldn’t again.

  Wyatt threw his considerable heft into Jonathon, causing him to take a couple of steps forward. Th
is time when he fell Wyatt made sure to secure the squirrely guy beneath him, pinning his torso and arms with his thighs. Jonathon bucked, but he was no match for Wyatt’s size.

  And then a thought flashed in his mind. From this vantage point, Wyatt could pull out his gun and destroy Jonathon with one flick of his trigger finger.

  Being a father must be softening him because he didn’t want to explain himself in court or have a news story his daughter could read some day about how her father had killed a man, even this man.

  Instead, Wyatt drew back his fist and punched Jonathon so hard his jaw snapped and he lost consciousness.

  “Can you scoot closer to me?” he asked Meg, not daring to give an inch in case Jonathon came to and started swinging his fists again. He wouldn’t underestimate the man twice.

  She mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and he could see her making her way toward him.

  When she was close enough, he tugged at the tape covering her mouth until it was free.

  “Wyatt,” she said on a gasp. “You found me.”

  “I will always find you.”

  After untying her and instructing her to call 911, Wyatt looked down at Jonathon. Tragedy had struck his family at such a young age and Wyatt could almost sympathize. Losing his sister at such an early age had broken the man.

  “Why did he want to hurt you?” Wyatt asked Meg, wrapping his arm around her.

  “He said I didn’t deserve a family. He ran into me in the store after Aubrey was born and something snapped. He said he never stopped blaming me for Mary Jane’s death but it wasn’t until he saw me with my daughter, looking happy for the first time, that he truly broke,” she said with a sob.

  “What about Stephanie?” he asked.

  “He hated everyone connected to me. If you’d been in the picture before he would’ve tried to hurt you,” she explained. “He said he wanted to take away everyone close to me before he ended my life.”