A man stood bent over a person lying on the ground.
“Gretchen!” Colm barreled at the man and grabbed him at the midsection. The two went down, but when Colm scrambled over to the body in the grass, he saw it was another man, not Gretchen.
“Troy?” Colm felt for the man’s pulse, then swung around to see Ethan gaining his feet. “What did you do to Troy?” A sudden surge of worry about what he didn’t see at the scene pushed him to his feet. “Where’s Gretchen?”
Ethan rubbed the back of his head. “It would appear I’ve brought danger to her doorstep.”
“Appear?” Colm closed in on the man with slow steps.
“If she’s dead, it’s my fault.”
The color red clouded Colm’s vision. He grabbed hold of Ethan’s denim shirt. Without realizing he even moved, he forced the man up against a tree at lightning speed. “Where…is…she?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know. She was taken. I was knocked out before I could get to her. I thought it was Troy she was fighting off, but he’s been knocked out, too. Whoever hit us must have her.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t deck you.” Colm leaned in, but before he could make a move he found the tables turned in a flash. One second he had Ethan in his grasp—the next, Colm found himself on his knees with his arms behind his back.
Fast breaths escaped his lungs. “Wh…where did you learn that takedown?” he asked incredulously. “Are you a ghetto boy, too?”
“No. FBI.” Ethan reached into his pocket and withdrew a wallet. He showed the badge to Colm and let him take it all in. Ethan said, “I’m investigating your crew for works of art that have gone missing from some of your renovations. It’s no secret that someone is after a certain piece on this island, as well.”
“You think someone from my crew is involved?”
“Possibly you.”
“Are you mad? If I wanted the painting I would be long gone with it by now. I know where it is.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Ethan hummed his indecision. “All right. Because I need your help finding Gretchen, I’m going to let you go. Plus, something tells me you care more about her than you do any painting. Am I right?”
Colm didn’t hesitate and nodded once. “More than anything.”
With that, Ethan released him and walked to a place in front of the rock. He knelt and grabbed something from the ground. “She sent notes to my five suspects. You, Sly, Wendy, Nate and Troy. Then I had her wear a wire. A lot of good it did.”
Colm reached for the smashed equipment. “This is what you needed her for—bait?” He felt the roiling emotion that used to lead to an all-out brawl. The man definitely had it coming. Instead Colm turned away and said, “Time is ticking. We need to wake up everyone, crew and town. Whether Gretchen wants our help or not, she’s going to get it.”
They ran through the woods and started banging on the sides of trailers. Colm ran straight for Sly’s mobile and barged in. “Sly! We need you. Gretchen’s missing.” He reached the man’s bed, but when he felt around, he found it empty and still made.
Sly wasn’t here.
Colm backed away from the bed, sickness flooding his body and raising bile in his throat. Was Sly involved in this?
For his friend to orchestrate Gretchen’s kidnapping would mean everything the man told Colm about being forgiven would mean nothing. Colm’s new life would be a lie. He really would be a phony.
“Nay. I am not a phony,” Colm stated aloud and refused to let the doubtful thoughts take root. Sly was a friend, but he wasn’t the one who gave Colm his forgiveness and new life. Jesus was the friend who laid down His life and saved Colm. And His promises weren’t phony.
But if Sly thought stealing artwork from clients was his better way to getting rich, he had some things to pay for.
“And if he took Gretchen, he will answer to me,” Colm vowed to the empty trailer.
“Colm, you in there?” a voice boomed from outside the trailer and the door swung wide. “There you are.” Sheriff Matthews stood in the doorway. Behind him hundreds of people with flashlights filed into the yard. The sight of the whole island in one place nearly knocked Colm over and struck him silent.
“We heard Gretchen’s been taken,” the sheriff said. “We’ve formed search parties, with some heading out to sea and others searching the woods.”
“You’ve already gathered search parties? How? Ethan and I just found out ourselves.”
“Your electrician came running into town, saying he saw Gretchen being carried into a boat. He’d been sitting on the shore in the shadows and was able to escape unnoticed. He came straight to me. He knew he couldn’t overtake the man and it would be better to round up help.”
“Of course.” Air rushed from Colm’s lungs with relief. “That’s Sly’s better way.”
Colm followed Sheriff Matthews out and thanked some people for coming. Fear and worry showed on the many faces, but so did determination. They were ready for a fight, and in that moment Colm looked down at his fisted hands and noticed he was, too. He had been ready since the moment Ethan told him he’d put a wire on Gretchen.
But Colm hadn’t belted Ethan as he would have in his former days.
Instead he’d set out to round up help.
The realization struck Colm as he watched the mass of people around him making plans and strategies for the coming evening just as he had in that split-second decision.
That was when it finally hit him.
His old self really was dead. He had no doubt about it now. Jesus had made him a new creation, but definitely not a weaker one. Colm still had his strength, but now he knew how a real fighter fought. It wasn’t reflexive; it was responsive. It was strength and power under control, even in the chaos.
Especially in chaos.
Restoration does not take place in an atmosphere of peace, he realized. It occurs in the midst of conflict.
And suddenly Colm could see in the midst of the worst battle he had ever fought, fighting for the woman he loved, he had been restored. Peace flooded over him and allowed him now to fight clearheaded for Gretchen.
“Sheriff, did Sly say if he recognized the man who took Gretchen?”
“Yes, he did. I’m saddened to say it was Billy Baker. It’s hard to imagine one of our own would turn on us.”
“Us?”
“Yes. We feel Billy’s abuse of Gretchen is an attack on us all. We trust each other, and he broke that trust.”
Colm could see the island was a tight community and loved that Gretchen was a part of it. He meant to keep it that way tonight.
“I never thought he would hurt her at all,” Sheriff Matthews continued as an odor wafted to Colm’s nose.
He sniffed the air and turned. “Do you smell smoke?”
Colm and a few bystanders searched the area for the direction of the growing smoke scent. Quickly all noticed black billows mixing with the gray clouds of the evening.
“Fire!” someone shouted.
Colm saw smoke drifting near Gretchen’s house. He legged it for the servants’ quarters.
Colm passed the medical station wagon with Troy sitting on the back bumper, holding a cold pack to his face. “Stop right there, McCrae! Get Nate. I want this on film, now!” Troy tried to stand but dropped back onto the bumper.
Colm kept running. Flames burst out the back of the house, growing hotter and higher each second. The old wood of the house lit up in seconds.
His first thought screamed, Gretchen. Then he remembered she was taken out to sea. To stay and fight the fire would mean not finding her.
Colm growled loudly in frustration. There was no way to save both Gretchen and her house, and right now, she came first.
But just before he turned away, he thought he saw a person running from the house into the woods. And that someone sure looked like Billy Baker.
But if it was Billy, what had he done with Gretchen?
Colm’s stomach bottomed out as h
e took in the growing fire again.
There was no doubt now.
Sheriff Matthews ran up behind Colm and halted at the sight. “This is no coincidence.”
“No, and I think I just saw Billy running from the house. There’s a chance she’s in there.”
“As soon as the fire crew is ready, they’ll check it out. We have two people to find. Troy says his cameraman is missing, as well. He might be in there, too.”
“Nate’s gone?”
A quick realization crossed Colm’s mind. Gretchen had sent Nate a note, too.
Colm looked at the attic and the location of the painting. “Is that what you want, Nate?” Colm looked to the lawman. “Sheriff, grab your deputy. I’m going in.”
If Gretchen was inside, no one and nothing would be able to stop him. Not a blazing fire or an art thief.
*
The rumble of the engine died out. Gretchen felt the boat glide a bit farther, but soon the choppy waves slowed it and bounced it side to side. Water hit the hull in what would normally be a soothing rhythm, but tonight as she lay bound and gagged, the sound only reminded her that she was in over her head. If she went overboard tied up, she’d never resurface. Those very same lapping waves would push her under, her hands useless.
Footsteps sounded beyond where her head lay on the deck. Her whole body tensed for whatever was to come.
Suddenly the rag in her mouth was pulled out and Gretchen screamed. She twisted in her ropes but soon figured if she was allowed to scream, it would do no good. Wherever she’d been taken, no one could hear her.
She asked, “Who are you?”
“I think the correct question is, what do I want?”
The voice was male, but she couldn’t place it. It sounded familiar. She needed her kidnapper to speak more or to take off her blindfold.
“All right, then, what do you want?” Gretchen followed his lead and hoped a few more words would match a face to the voice.
“You tell me. Your note said you wanted to give it to me.”
He was one of the five who got her note.
Gretchen deduced that this wasn’t Wendy. And it wasn’t Troy, and it most assuredly wasn’t Colm.
Or was it? Perhaps Colm had changed his voice. But even when he dropped his accent, he still held a tone that was pure Colm McCrae. It was something he couldn’t cut out, like dialect, because it was a part of his identity. Little words that weren’t used regularly on American soil spilled from his mouth constantly. His Irish phrases made Gretchen feel as though she frolicked in a green meadow with little thatched-roof cottages on a hillside down yonder, as he would say.
Gretchen smiled, remembering such a time, then started when her kidnapper barked, “Well? I don’t have all night, and neither do you.”
Not Colm. That she was sure of. Colm would say he had all the time in the world. So, if not Colm, her kidnapper had to be Sly or Nate.
She’d rarely heard either man speak—except when Nate reminded her of the terms she’d signed.
“What are the terms?” she asked, formulating an idea.
“The terms?”
It was Nate. She’d recognize that word on his lips any day. “Yes, Nate.”
The next second her blindfold was ripped off. “The terms are that you’re going to give me what I want. Then you’re going to die.”
Gretchen gulped, then answered, “I’m not giving you anything. Do you really think you’ll get away with kidnapping and murder?”
“If you’re not around to tell.” Nate reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pocketknife, the blade snapping out as he opened it. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain things, but since I have to, we’ll do this the hard way.” He reached for the ropes behind her and sawed through them with a couple quick jerks.
Only when he yanked her to a sitting position she found her hands were still tied behind her. He’d only released her from the ropes that bound her to the boat’s deck. To do what? Throw her overboard like this? She shuffled away from Nate but came up against the port-side wall.
“You see, Gretchen, there on your little island you don’t have a clear picture of the dirty world Colm and I come from. Where one does whatever he has to, to come out on top. It’s not enough just to survive. People have to know you’re in charge.”
Nate swung her around by the arm. She felt like a rag doll in his rough grasp. He yanked her arms back, causing her to cry out in pain. “Even if that means someone gets hurt. Especially someone who gets in the way.”
A searing pain emanated from her right pinky finger. Gretchen turned around. “You’re hurting me!” she cried out. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a taste of our world. And making sure you know I’ll do whatever I have to, to get what I want.”
“By cutting off my fingers?”
“The pinky will go first.”
Pain exploded further from her finger and she cried out again.
“I gave you ample time to get out of my way, but you never left. I set up hazard after hazard so you would realize you shouldn’t be on the set. Not even the shock worked! How was I supposed to carry out my job with you around?”
“Your job? I never stood in the way of filming. You reminded me constantly that I signed terms that stated I couldn’t.”
“Not the filming!” he burst out but quickly calmed. “The painting. It was going to be my biggest fence yet. When I saw it above the fireplace at the restaurant during the interview, I knew it was something special. And now you’re going to give me what I want, just like your note said.”
“You won’t get away with this. The FBI is onto you.”
Nate laughed. “They’re not onto me. They’re onto Colm. You see, I watched you leave the notes for the others. You didn’t see me, but I saw you. Worked to my advantage. I told your ex where he could find you and to take out the fed in the woods, as well. Yeah, I already knew about him. That’s why I knew this would be my last heist. Take the painting and never look back. And Colm would be the one to pay for it.”
“I don’t understand. How is Colm involved? He would never break the law.”
Nate laughed. “Shows what you know. When I met him he was breaking the law. It was only because Troy bribed the cop that he got off. My friend was fired that day. Colm won that round. But I couldn’t have him forgetting what he was, believing that just because he cracked jokes in front of my camera he was something special.”
“That’s what this is about? You wanted to make sure Colm knew he didn’t succeed on his own?”
“He got a free ride because Troy saw dollar signs when he watched him fight. But now I’ve made sure he’s going where he should have gone in the first place—to jail. I made sure all roads lead to him. And it was Gil Griffin who helped me.”
“His stepfather?”
“Right after Colm joined the crew, Griffin called for Colm, but I answered the phone that day. He had a connection who was looking for art. He thought since Colm was now hanging with the swanky Hollywood types, he might come across some unique works that would bring a pretty penny. He then proceeded to lay on the subliminal threats that Colm’s mother could really use his help and he better deliver.
“I told the man that Colm was a Goody Two-shoes now and a real praying man. We shared a laugh over that, then we talked about how a cameraman is really the person he should talk to about this venture. After all, no one notices the cameraman, but I notice everyone and everything, right down to the paintings on the walls.
“I sent Gil pictures of what I found, and he told me which ones to grab. A great opportunity had finally come my way to put Colm in the jailhouse and put me in the rich house.”
“So, you’ve made it look like Colm is the one stealing the art while you send them to Griffin.”
“A tortured soul Colm is over the abuse of his ma. He would do anything to help her.”
“You’re sick.”
He pressed the knife deeper into her finger, but Gretchen he
ld her breath to hold in a whimper. “But I’m about to be very rich. Unless I don’t show up with the painting. So where is it?”
“Don’t you care that an old man fled his homeland with nothing but that painting? Do you even want to know why Griffin wants it? Have you thought how you’re nothing but a puppet for someone else to control? You’re only playing on someone’s strings. You’ve been hoodwinked, Nate. Tell me, how much did Griffin promise you? Ten grand? A hundred grand? A million?”
His knife-wielding hand lessened its grip at her last figure. She knew she had her answer. She let out a laugh, having no reason to hold back now. This could be her last night alive.
“That’s it, huh? A cool million.” She turned to try to look him in the face. “It’s a van Gogh, Nate.
“You agreed to steal it for a million dollars, when Griffin will sell it for a hundred million. It’s probably worth a lot more.” She leaned in close to him. “You feel those puppet strings strangling you yet? How about using your knife to cut those instead? You may think you’re winning this fight, but the truth is no bully will ever allow such a thing. I know this for a fact.”
Nate was quiet for a few moments. Gretchen’s lungs began to expand as she realized she may have convinced Nate that Gil was using him.
“Take me back, Nate. Let this go and break your connection with Griffin before you end up paying for his crimes. You can do it.”
A second later, Nate yanked hard again on her hand and pressed his knife back into her wound. Gretchen bit down but the pain was too strong and she moaned. Tears filled her eyes.
“‘You can do it,’” he mimicked in a singsong voice. “What do I look like? Some cameraman from a children’s television show?” He pulled her back. “No. This is how it’s gonna go down. You’re going to tell me where the painting is. I know you know. I saw the old man bring it into your house the first day we arrived. I was heading out to take pics on the ledge, and I saw him carry a brown package that could only be the painting. Things would have gone easier for him if he had only left it on the wall of the restaurant. But when I paid him a visit, he wouldn’t tell me where he stashed it…so I decked him. I turned that house upside down looking for it. You must have put it somewhere else. That’s all I can figure. But where?”
Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1 Page 54