Bound to You

by Vanessa Holland

  Sam leaned over, forcing himself to calm down and focus his blurred vision to examine the paperwork and photos. The answer was there. It had to be. But there was too much information and it was all scattered between dozens of printouts. He sat down knowing he had to start somewhere, and move slowly, so as not to miss anything.

  “I don’t write the final report until the investigation is finished,” Tad said. He sat down and started pulling sheets of papers one-by-one from the mess. “First, let’s weed out the obvious stuff.”

  A small sound came from the doorway, someone clearing their throat. Sam glanced over his shoulder, saw one of the girls, and went back to work.

  Tad pointed at his daughter, Lara Beth. “Back to bed, missy,” he ordered.

  But she stepped forward. “I think I may know something.”

  They all turned to give her their attention, Sam quickly standing, too wired to keep his seat.

  “It’s about Ally Stewart,” Lara Beth said, standing nervously near the doorway. “I was at Bri’s party tonight, and I think I saw her, and I know Bri would never invite her because we all hate her. So I thought it was weird. But I think I saw her there, in the house, but there was a lot of people and I didn’t see her again. So I can’t be sure. And she had a cap on and I never saw her wear one in school, except maybe in winter. She had her hair up under it.” Her shoulders fell and she frowned. “But, whatever. It might not have been her. But I might know something else.”

  “Allison Stewart,” Tad announced to the others. “That’s Brandon Stewart’s sister.” He got up and gently ushered his daughter into the room because she looked like she was about to throw up, probably intimidated by all the wild and agitated male eyes staring at her.

  “Well, I remembered something else,” she said. “At graduation, I heard her bragging about a lake house her dad just bought.”

  “Which lake?” Sam asked.

  Lara Beth only shrugged, but Tad turned back to the table.

  “I know about that,” he said, searching for the right sheet of paper. “I have that information.” He found the paper he was looking for. “Here it is. Watts Bar Lake. Damn. That’s a good three-hour drive.”

  “Let me see that,” Sam said, snatching the paper.

  “But wait,” Tad said. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take the kid there. The cops will look there. I had no trouble getting this kind of property information.”

  “Oh!” Lara Beth said, hopping in place. “Oh! Oh! I know! I know something!”

  “What?” several men yelled at her.

  “The cabin!” Lara Beth said. “The old cabin!” She stopped suddenly, blushed, and glanced guiltily at her father. She lowered her voice. “But that’s probably not it. It’s stupid.”

  Sam stepped forward, forcing himself to stay calm. “Listen, kiddo, if you know something, you’ve gotta tell me. It’s my son. He’s only two years old. He might be in danger.”

  Lara Beth swallowed hard, closed her eyes for a moment, and then let out a breath. “There’s this cabin where kids go to… you know, be alone, or do things. It belongs to, I think, a girl named Sierra or Sienna, or her family. I don’t know her, but Ally Stewart does. But it’s like, empty, you know, and some kids go there.” She widened her eyes at her father. “I’ve never been there. I promise.”

  “Okay,” Tad said, his tone a little tense, but calm enough. “That’s fine. Where is it?”

  “I don’t know, but….” This time Lara Beth glanced guiltily at her Uncle Sage. “Ask Mercy. She might know.”

  They all looked at Sage, whose eyebrows shot up. “Mercy knows?”

  Lara Beth grimaced. “Maybe?” Her shoulders fell. “Just don’t tell her I told. She’ll kill me.”

  While Uncle Sage called his daughter, Sam took out his phone and called Brianna on her new number. He didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she did. He could tell she was crying. “Where are you?” she asked. “The police are looking for him and they’ve gone to question Brandon, and to check out our old house, but they want to talk to you and Jenna won’t stop crying. Come back here!”

  “Listen,” Sam said, having to ignore what he’d just heard because he had no choice. The only way to help Jenna was to bring her son home safe. “Do you know about some cabin kids go to? Belongs to a Sierra or Sienna?”

  “What?” Bri said, sounding incredulous. “Where are you? I can’t deal with this all by myself! Help me! I’m scared!”

  “I’ve got it!” Uncle Sage said.

  “Okay,” Sam said to both his uncle and Brianna. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he told Bri.

  Sam gave Lara Beth a hug and ran into his dad and Boone who had just arrived, both looking as wild and worried as he felt. He filled them in on the way out of the house.

  Grateful to have his family with him, Sam set off with Tad and Foster in his truck, the remainder of his family following along behind them like a convoy.

  He was going to find his son if it was the last thing he ever did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jenna paced the living room, hugging Ethan’s blue bear and her phone to her chest, unable to sit still, unable to form any thought other than seeing her son’s beautiful face again. Her torn, wrapped feet ached but she didn’t care. She welcomed the pain. Physical pain felt good compared to the pain in her gut, and heart. What had started out as one of the best days of her life had turned into a night of absolute horror. The worst nightmare she could possibly imagine.

  The property was buzzing with activity. More officers had arrived, as well as a couple of media vans. Police were searching the property, dragging the pond, and asking her endless questions. A unit had come out to take fingerprints but they weren’t hopeful because too many people had been in the house, she’d been told, because of Bri’s party. Detectives had arrived to ask more of the same questions. They’d set up some kind of command center in the dining room. The FBI was being called in.

  Every instinct urged Jenna to leave the house and search for her son but she wasn’t allowed to leave. She wasn’t allowed to go up to her son’s room. She wasn’t even allowed to leave the living room. She was as good as a prisoner there. A couple of officers were in the room with her to make sure of that. She had no idea where Sam was and she needed him more than ever.

  Bri sat on the couch, no longer crying, but hugging herself and rocking endlessly. “Is it?” she asked. “Is it my fault?”

  Jenna shook her head but couldn’t quite follow her sister’s questions.

  “I had to have that stupid party,” Bri continued. “They said that’s why it happened. The commotion. Someone used the commotion as a diversion.”

  Brandon Stewart. Jenna was just waiting for them to bring Ethan home and tell her Brandon had been arrested. She couldn’t have been clearer in her accusations. Who else would do something like this? No one else would do something like this. Brandon wanted revenge for what had happened to his mother. She’d told them that a dozen times.

  A new commotion near the doorway caught her attention and she rushed over when the door opened, actually seeing Ethan’s face for an instant before Becky walked in carrying her own baby, followed by Crystal, with her young daughter, and Sam’s mother. They all hugged her at once, offering reassuring words she could barely hear. She couldn’t stop staring at the children the women held, so jealous she couldn’t keep from crying again.

  “Have they called?” Becky asked. “They wouldn’t tell us anything. Have they contacted you yet? What do they want?”

  Jenna shook her head but couldn’t speak. There wouldn’t be any call or ransom demand because this wasn’t about money. This was about revenge. Revenge for something her father had done. For something his own mother had done twenty years ago. Brandon had stolen her son just to make Jenna share in his suffering. And he was succeeding.

  Sam’s mother, Sunny, held Jenna’s face between her hands, meeting her gaze, forcing Jenna to pay attention.

  “Whatever
they want,” Sunny said, forcefully, seriously, “we’ll pay it. No matter the amount. I’ve called my accountant. Don’t worry about that. We’ll get him back. I promise.”

  Crystal held out Ethan’s baby book, which Sam had forgotten and left at his mother’s house. “So they’ll have plenty of pictures.”

  Jenna dropped the bear, grabbed the book, and hugged it instead. She wanted to open the book and look at her son’s face but was afraid to. She was afraid she’d completely lose her mind and be of no use to anyone.

  “I gave them pictures,” she heard herself say. “They have pictures. We have pictures.” She didn’t have her son. That’s what she didn’t have.

  Sam’s mother ushered her over to the sofa, to sit them both down, and held her hand. Crystal sat on her other side and put her arm around Jenna’s shoulders. Becky sat on the coffee table directly in front of her.

  “Whatever you need,” Becky said. “Anything at all. We’re here.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Crystal assured her. “Not until we have him back. Frankie wanted to be here, but the doctor just put her on bed rest until the baby comes.”

  Jenna nodded, thanking them, but the words were perfunctory. She could barely understand them.

  “Listen to me,” Sam’s mother said, “they don’t want to hurt him. They only want money. And we’ll pay. The boys are out looking. My brother-in-law, Tad, is a private investigator. He knows what to do. We’ll find him.”

  Jenna leaned forward and covered her face, feeling both comforted and smothered.

  Everyone kept saying that and yet her son was still out there somewhere, alone, terrified, lost, possibly being harmed. She couldn’t take one more assurance. She wanted results. She wanted her son’s warm, soft little body in her arms again. And she couldn’t stand being surrounded another moment, or sitting still another moment. She couldn’t breathe.

  She murmured appreciation and stood with some effort to pace again. Crystal turned to hug Brianna, who was still rocking and blaming herself.

  The grandfather clock, probably made by someone in Sam’s family, kept ticking away the seconds, ticking away every minute Ethan was still missing. Jenna found herself timing her steps to the ticking, counting them, anything to keep her mind occupied and to keep horrifying images out of her head.

  He had to be wondering where she was – why she wasn’t coming to him. She was his mother. She was supposed to protect him. He’d always trusted her to protect him and she hadn’t, when he needed her the most.

  An officer came in the house, a young man with a stern face but kind eyes, and told them the pond was clear. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except for Jenna, who knew exactly where her son was, if only they’d listen to her.

  “Find Brandon Stewart!” she yelled at the officer. She wanted to beat the man with her fists. “Why aren’t you doing that? Why are you just standing there?”

  A female officer who had been loitering in the living room came over to take Jenna by the arm. “Just calm down, ma’am,” she said. “We’re doing everything we can. Sit down, please.”

  A space on the sofa was cleared and Jenna sat down, hugging Ethan’s baby book, but only seconds passed before she started rocking back and forth, Brianna’s sobs echoing in Jenna’s ears and turning into Ethan’s cries for his mother. Cries she couldn’t answer.

  And the night wore on, agonizingly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sam drove over a rough dirt road, bouncing them all over bumps and ruts, refusing to slow down. Tad was on the phone with Mercy, keeping her on the line to make sure they didn’t waste minutes getting lost. The cabin was secluded in the woods, well off a paved road. The perfect place for kids to do all the things parents feared the most. The perfect place to hide a stolen child.

  Ethan would be there. Sam kept chanting that thought in his mind. He’d find his son there. He’d find Ethan there, safe, and he’d take him home.

  Finally, the road bended, and the small cabin could be seen up ahead. Lights shined in the front windows.

  “Stop here,” Tad said. “Turn your headlights off and let’s creep up and surround it.”

  But Sam kept going. He was going inside that cabin. He didn’t care if it was the right cabin or not. He didn’t care if he found armed gangsters shooting up or an elderly couple inside, the man whittling and the woman knitting in a rocking chair. He was going inside even if it got him arrested in the end. His son was inside that cabin. He knew it. He could feel it deep in his gut. He could feel it in his bones.

  The cabin was small, probably consisting of only one room, and all gray, as if neglected for decades.

  He screeched to a stop just in time to keep from crashing into the tiny front porch, put the truck in park, and jumped out without killing the engine. He ran up the steps while Tad yelled at Foster to go around back.

  He tried the loose brass doorknob, found it locked and stepped back and kicked the door open. As he strode inside the room, he quickly took in the scene. Two girls sat on a dirty, tilted orange sofa, both gaping at him with open mouths and wide eyes, one of them frozen holding out a stuffed toy.

  And there, as if the heavens had opened up and shined a glowing light down on him, stood Ethan in the middle of the room. Ethan took the toy and with a loud “No!” threw the toy.

  Vaguely, Sam was aware of several of his family coming in behind him. The back door burst open and Foster came in. The girls both screamed and huddled, backing up on the couch in fear.

  But Sam didn’t care about anything but the sight of his son alive and standing there, safe.

  Ethan started gasping at the commotion, as well, backing up toward the far corner as too many people entered the room at once.

  Sam slid a vinyl chair aside on his way to his son, forcing himself to keep his tone calm, worried about forever traumatizing his child. He held up a hand warning everyone to stay still and quiet. “Ethan, honey,” he said, approaching slowly, bending at the waist. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me. It’s just your daddy.”

  Ethan looked all around, at all the huge men, then followed Sam’s voice. He blinked his big blue eyes then his face brightened as recognition set in.

  “Daddy!” Ethan yelled and ran to him with his arms outstretched.

  Sam scooped up his son and held him tight, rocking him from side to side, his vision blurring as he watched Tad and Foster surround the girls, Tad already on the phone with the police.

  “You’re okay,” Sam told his son, forcing himself not to squeeze to tightly. “You’re safe now. Daddy’s got you. You’re safe.”

  He turned and bumped into his own father who was stepping in to give Ethan a rub on the back.

  “Let’s go home,” Sam said, aiming for the doorway.

  All he needed was his son in his arms and his dad to drive them home. Tad and Foster could deal with the business end of this nightmare.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The sun was just rising on the horizon, glowing in pinks and oranges through the tree limbs as Sam and Jenna sat on the back porch rocking and watching the sunrise. The birds were up and flittering about, singing as if with joy at Ethan’s return.

  Ethan slept peacefully wrapped in a blanket in Jenna’s arms and Sam wondered if she would ever let him go again.

  Sam kept his arm around Jenna’s shoulders because she was still shaking, and he wanted to stay as close to her and Ethan as possible.

  They’d finally been given a few minutes alone to enjoy a moment to reunite, though his family members still filled the house and a few law enforcement personnel continued to linger, mostly to hold back the press who wanted a story. They’d have to wait.

  So would Sam and Jenna. Even though the two girls at the cabin had been arrested, they were still waiting to hear what was happening. And whether Brandon Stewart would be implicated.

  But those questions seemed trivial compared to having their son back home with them, unharmed and content. The girls, it seemed, had tak
en care of him, and had tried to keep him happy, at least. Sam could only hope Ethan would never remember that terrible night.

  A lot of work was yet to be done, but one day soon the ordeal would be over and life could return to normal.

  He looked down at Jenna’s feet, both heavily wrapped in gauze. “Your poor feet,” he said. “Do they hurt?”

  She lifted her feet and shrugged as she looked down at Ethan. “I can’t even feel it.”

  “What say,” Sam said, “we go stay at the ranch for a week or two till things die down around here? I need to pack up my things, anyway.”

  Jenna nodded, her eyes still glassy, her cheeks still flaming red. “I like that.” She sighed down at Ethan. “I really like that.”

  Sam found himself sighing, too. They both couldn’t seem to stop sighing with relief. “We’ll do that, then. As soon as we can. Mom and Dad’s anniversary party is next Friday. We’ll leave the next day.”

  “Oh, though,” Jenna said, wincing, “I can’t leave Bri alone here. She wants to keep her job and she’ll be scared here by herself.”

  “She can stay with my parents for a while. She’ll like it there. They’ll pamper her. She’ll be safe there.”

  Jenna leaned in closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “That’s good. I like that. If they don’t mind.”

  He knew they wouldn’t mind. They’d welcome Brianna wholeheartedly. She was a good kid. And the last he’d seen of his mother she’d been snuggled up on the couch with Brianna, almost like mother and daughter.

  Jenna straightened suddenly. “How did you do it?” she asked as if the past few hours had finally caught up with her. “How’d you find him?”

  He chuckled. “You have my cousins to thank for that. Lara Beth and Mercy. They knew about the cabin.” And he’d have to think of some way to show his own appreciation to them both. Something monumental. Nothing he could think of seemed big enough. They may very well have saved Ethan’s life.