by Jeanne Adams
She linked her fingers with his, not letting go until she needed both hands on the wheel. It helped. He didn't know why, but hearing the rings click, as they had in Baltimore, helped. The brisk night air whistled in the window and worked to clear his lungs. He wanted to hang his entire head out the window in hopes that the miasma of chemicals would blow away.
"I think Shadow would like to do the same thing," Dana said, managing a smile for him.
"I'll make room."
"There's water in the console here," she patted the container between the seats. "Maybe that will help."
"Yeah, thanks." He'd forgotten the bottles stashed there. He drained one and felt miraculously better within minutes. Uncapping another, he sipped it more slowly, and the headache receded. She rummaged behind the seat as he reached for a third bottle. "What do you need? I'll get it," he said.
"My purse. I have it now," she said, dragging the leather satchel onto the seat. "In the zippered part, there're three bottles: aspirin, acetaminophen, the generic stuff, some painkillers. Take the aspirin. It's buffered and will help the headache, especially if it's from dehydration."
"I'm better."
"I can tell, you're not gripping the armrest so hard."
"You're an observant woman, love."
"Thanks."
Now that he wasn't feeling quite so wretched, he was able to notice her state. Her hands, clutching the steering wheel, were white-knuckled. Her voice was steady, but her breathing wasn't. She was on the verge, close to losing her composure.
"We'll find him, love. We will. I was wrong to doubt you, and him."
"I know I told you he would, but... but... I can't believe he actually managed it," she said, a wobble in her voice. "We've talked about what to do. We have these code words and phrases."
"Tell me," he encouraged. Talking would give her a pressure valve, relieving some of the tension.
"If Donovan ever tried to get him at school, he was to call the police first. Then me. If he was in trouble, the code phrase was 'Queen to King's level three.'"
"Star Trek."
Her smile was weak, but it shone in the darkness. "We watched the old ones on TV Land. They were hokey, but a lot of fun."
"Yeah. The Trouble with Tribbles. What else?"
"If they shoved him in the trunk he was supposed to kick out the taillight, wave as hard as he could to attract attention."
"That's a good one. What else?"
"If someone besides Donovan had him, he was supposed to be polite, not antagonize, but try and leave a trail, try and get to people who would help. Anything."
"You taught him scenarios."
"Everything I thought of, we talked about. Practiced."
"How long have you been at it, that kind of scenario building?"
"Three, four years."
"Since he was six or seven."
"Yeah."
"No wonder. Kid's got guts, like his mom. He said the car was probably blue. I'm guessing the interior is, at least. Unless 'blue' is a code word."
"No, but I did tell him to give as much information as possible. The make and model of the car—he loves cars, so that's never been hard—the license plate, that sort of thing."
"You two are a hell of a team."
When she glanced over at him, tears streaked her cheeks. "I hated to do it. Hated to constantly make him feel unsafe, on alert, cautious. I hated the look in his eyes every time we'd be somewhere and I'd ask him, 'What would you do if your father came right now, here and did such and such?' Or 'That car we passed, what color was it?'"
"Did he hate it?"
The question evidently caught her off-guard, because she hesitated before answering.
"Sometimes," she said, evidently remembering moments when she'd gotten the reaction she'd mentioned. "But on the whole, no, I don't think he did." Surprise rang in her voice. She sounded lighter, more sure when she continued. "Not that much. He saw it as a game, I guess. Like the strategy things he gets into with the video games."
"Which came first, the video games or the strategy sessions?"
"Video games. Much as I hate them, I couldn't always take him out to the park or encourage him to run around outside."
"Understandable."
"My alternative solution was a Game Boy at five and successively more complex games on the computer and television console thingies as he asked for them."
"He's good."
"Really good."
"I'll bet they actually helped when you began teaching him strategy."
"I'd never considered it that way, but yeah, I guess they did."
"What do you—" he started to ask about other things they did together, continuing the distraction, but her phone was buzzing once again. "The phone. It's Xavier."
"What does he say?" she kept trying to see the screen and drive too.
"Focus on driving. I'll read it as it comes in."
"Sorry."
He waited as the text showed up, letter by letter. "She's still on 58. He saw the road number." They had turned onto 58 as well and were heading east, but they were well behind Booth and the boy. He hoped Xavier gave them more information or told them if she took a southerly turn.
"Do we call Tervain?"
"Do we dare?" he countered. "I don't want to miss anything from the boy, and I can't use my cell, its compromised."
"What about Sears?"
"You said she snagged him too. Besides, he's in the hospital."
"Crap. You're right. Who could get a message to Ter-vain and not alert her? TJ and Chaz? Your contact, the one who told us we were being tracked? Someone else in the agency?"
"My contacts, Tervain's team, are out of commission."
"What about Tervain's secretary?"
"His who?"
"His assistant, the woman who works with him. You know, Sophia? I have her number. It's programmed into my cell."
"You are amazing. Incredible," he praised.
"Desperate. Panicked."
"Hey, we're doing good. Don't jinx it."
"What else does Xavy say?"
"He's going to try to call at some point when he thinks she's distracted. He's going to put it on speakerphone so we can hear her."
"Oh, God."
"How do you mute your phone? We don't want her to be able to hear us, or God forbid, Shadow, so we'll have to be on mute."
"It shows as an option once the call comes in."
"Got it." He turned on the light, scanning the phone's features. "Here. Ah, another text message. He's going to call, may have to cut it off suddenly if she gets suspicious or if he thinks the battery's running down."
The phone trilled a few minutes later, and when Caine answered he immediately muted it, turning the volume as loud as it would go. It was good that he'd been quick because Shadow, heretofore silent, let out a bark that made Dana swerve in the road, she was so startled.
As she shushed him, Booth's voice came through, loud and clear.
"You awake, kid?" the woman asked. They heard a rustling noise and Xavier spoke.
"I'm awake. Who are you? Where're you takin' me?"
"My name's Booth. Don't you recognize me?"
"You're FBI. You were at the house. Why did you take me?"
"I'm taking you to your father. Shut up and listen," she said, silencing Xavier's protest. "Your dad's anxious to meet you. See you. I left your mom and Agent Bradley tied up. I owe Bradley. If you screw up and tell your dad they're alive, don't count on 'em staying that way, you get me?"
"You didn't hurt them, did you? My mom, is she—"
"I said I didn't hurt them. But they'll get dead real fast if you blab to Walker, got it?"
"Got it."
"I can't believe she's doing this," Caine commented softly. "She's going out of her way not to hurt anyone, but she's taking the kid to Walker."
"She's in love with him," Dana put in, as they listened to Booth bad-temperedly reassure Xavy that Caine and the dog were okay too. "I feel sorry for her, but i
f she stands between me and Xavy, I'm going through her."
"Same goes."
"Good to know." Daylight had come upon diem as they drove, and he heard Dana cursing under her breath. "What?"
"Gas, we need gas."
"We're lucky she didn't slash the tires and shoot the gas tank. We can't run empty." He scanned the road. According to the map, they were running parallel to the North Carolina line. Danville, Virginia was behind them, but they had yet to hit South Boston.
"We want an easy-off, easy-on exit. There," he pointed, seeing a road sign indicating multiple fuel stations. "You start the fueling, I'll keep listening. When we're done, I'll drive."
"Are you well enough?"
"Yeah, my head's clear."
Whipping into a Gas-n-Go, Dana took the credit card Caine held out. She set the tank to fill and bolted for the bathroom. She'd had to go for the last hour.
When she hurried over, he motioned her inside and did the same. The sounds from the phone were innocuous enough. Booth had the radio on, and Xavier was humming along with the song.
"Durham," came a whisper from Xavier. "Just passed a sign for Durham."
"What'd you say, kid?"
"I was talking to myself, lady," he sounded sulky, petulant, as if she'd interrupted something important. 'That sign said Durham. That's where Duke is. Nobody can touch them when it comes to basketball. They rock. We going to Durham?
"No."
"Where're we going then?"
"None of your business."
Xavier was silent, as was Booth. Dana kept checking the phone to be sure they were still connected. She said a quick prayer that there was good cell coverage on whatever this road was.
"Can I put on my headphones? Listen to my music?" Xavier finally spoke again, disrupting the quiet that had stretched Dana's nerves to the breaking point.
"You're taking this pretty calm, kid," Booth said, sounding suspicious. Xavier must have heard that as well.
"I'm scared shitless," he said, and he made it sound as if he meant it. Dana bit her lip, her heart aching for him. Then, in a little boy voice, a bit cocky and smug, he added, "But I'm, you know, like . . . curious."
"What do you mean?"
"Uh, well, like, I, uh, don't remember my dad. My mom won't talk about him," the boy blurted the words, as if he were ashamed to say them. "For a long time, everybody told me he was dead. Now I get to meet him. I don't like it, I'm scared, but you aren't giving me much choice here, are you?"
God, he sounded so strong. So adult.
"No, I'm not."
Evidently, Xavier had struck the perfect balance between combined fear and interest, because Booth told him to put on his headphones. They heard more rustling, then the phone cut off.
"What happened?" Dana was frantic. "I need to call him, don't I? Where . . ."
"What is it?" Caine looked away from the road when she broke off, trying to see.
"Text message, bless him," she said, reading.
"Turn off 2 sv batt. LY, X"
"How long to South Boston?" Caine asked. The dashboard GPS showed them where they were, but she didn't know how to work it well enough to get an answer to that kind of question. It was easier to check the map.
"Thirty or forty miles."
"We're close. Better than I hoped. Your heading south paid off," he praised.
"Thanks." She let her head fall onto the headrest. Driving down the road, with no Xavier sitting behind her, knowing her son was in danger, was killing her. Shadow poked his nose over the seat and whined. She smoothed the fur on his long muzzle. "I know, boy. We're going to find him. Promise."
"We need more information soon. She could turn off at any of these feeder roads. Thing is, if she's heading for South Carolina, especially the coast, she'll want 95. If she does that, and we can catch her, that's good. But if she gets onto those side roads, we're screwed. Xavier'll have a lot harder time giving us clues without arousing her attention."
"Please, God," she breathed the prayer. "Let us catch up."
"We'll get to him, Dana, before Donovan does. We have to believe that." He reached out, tangled his fingers with hers.
"Thank you." Hearing him say it bolstered her courage. "What about Tervain's assistant, do we call her?"
"Yeah. You'll get a beep, if Xavy calls?"
"Yeah."
"Go for it. Once you get her, give her to me."
"With pleasure."
The phone rang a number of times before a light, feminine voice answered. "Mr. Tervain's office, Sophia speaking."
"Sophia, its Dana Markham."
"Oh, my God. Mrs. Markham, are you okay? Nevermind, hang on," Dana heard her shouting for Tervain. "He's coming. I'm praying for you, ma'am."
"Dana?" Tervain was breathless when he came on the line. "Are you there? Where are you? Are you all right?"
"I'm here. We're in southern Virginia, heading for South Boston. Xavier's been able to text us, give us a heading."
"Is Caine with you?"
"Right here. I'll let him tell you," she said, handing the phone to Caine.
"No," Caine said, after listening for a moment. "I won't. So deal. Yeah. Right. We think she's heading for South Carolina, maybe the coast. Dana says Walker had holdings in Myrtle and Charleston. Were those shut down? Confiscated? Sold? Well, find out," he snapped, then paused, glanced over at her. She put all her questions in one look and he shook his head. "Yeah. Her phone. Yours and Sears are black, that's how Booth tracked us. Yeah, split-scramble and forward. Never suspected because she was ours and presumed."
The men continued their short-hand, terse conversation for a few more minutes. When Caine clicked off, he handed the phone to Dana.
"So?"
"He's pissed, cranky, wants us to pull out of the chase and let them take it."
"Like hell," she said. She'd give no quarter to anyone on this, not with Xavier's safety on the line.
"Ditto. He'll call. They'd figured one of their cells was black—compromised."
"Took 'em long enough."
"Yeah. They're mustering, but without a fixed locale, their hands are tied. Jurisdictional crap. Tervain's heading for Raleigh-Durham and hopes to intercept."
"That's something, I guess."
"Dana?"
"Hmmm?"
"I want you to know that I'll do whatever it takes. You know that, right?" He took his eyes off the road long enough to meet hers. "This isn't some bullshit thing. Between us. I think... I know I... love you, and Xavy, too." The words spilled out, fast, nearly desperate. "You need to know, in case."
Clenching her eyes shut to staunch the tears, she pulled their joined hands to her cheek. "Oh, God. I know you will. We've got to be in time, Caine. We have to be."
"I hope he calls soon," Caine whispered, almost as if to himself. "It helps to be connected."
It amazed her to hear her own thoughts spoken out loud.
Shadow paced restlessly as they drove, whining a bit. He would sit, then pace. It was driving her crazy, but she didn't have the heart to tell him not to do it.
The phone vibrated in her hand, and she jumped.
Her heart sank when it wasn't Xavier.
"Hello? Yes, Tervain, he's right here."
"Yeah?" The two men talked, longer this time. Caine was silent, absorbing whatever Tervain was relaying.
"Yeah, we're going through South Boston. Make sure the highway patrol knows not to stop us. It's daylight now, and we're going to be breaking a lot of speed laws."
Dana noted the conglomeration of fast food shops, gas stations, and businesses that surrounded the interchange. Traffic was heavy. Morning commuters, she presumed. But it was moving. Thank God.
"There, the sign for Durham he mentioned," she exclaimed, pointing to a road marker ramping south for 501 to Durham, North Carolina.
"Yeah," Caine said, relaying the information. "501 toward Durham. We think that's what Xavier saw."
Caine continued to talk with Tervain as he drove, navigat
ing lane changes and easing around trucks with veteran driving skills. Part of her wanted to be driving, to be in control of the wheel. Then, at least, she'd have something to concentrate on besides how useless, how helpless she felt, trailing along behind her son's kidnapper.
Knowing Booth was heading for Donovan, Dana wanted to howl. Everything she'd prayed for, everything she'd been prepared to risk in this venture, was to keep Xavier out of the line of fire. Now, thanks to Booth, he was the bull's eye.
Caine suddenly tensed beside her, and her heart clenched.
"Gotta go, Tervain. Incoming call." He handed the phone to Dana. "You get it."
Her heart leapt up but tumbled just as quickly.
"False alarm," she said, cursing. "It's the school, calling about Xavier, I guess. Didn't Tervain call them?"
Adjusting her attitude, she answered. It took a few minutes to get the woman off the phone. She'd been calling about homework and PTA.
"What the fuck do I care?" Dana exploded, after hanging up. "I'm driving like a bat out of hell down a busy highway chasing a woman who has my son, and she wants to talk to me about PTA? Jesus, I'm going to scream. I'm preserving some useless fiction. And for what?" she turned on Caine. "Why? All this running and name-changing, what the hell has it gotten me? I'm still running, except this time I don't have my boy."
"Dana," he said, his voice firm. "You can't think about it that way. We have to take it one step at a time."
"You think I don't know that?" she raged. "I fucking know that."
"How much do you owe for saying fucking two times in a row without taking a breath?"
"Oh for Christ's sake," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "I don't know." Burying her head in her hands, she struggled for composure. She couldn't lose it. Couldn't. Why the hell had she even answered the phone call? Caine's hand on her back was warm, possessive, comforting. Present.
With a deep breath, she mustered her scattered wits. "Fifty cents, I think."
"What?"
"For cursing, I owe fifty cents."
"You gonna pay up, or welch because Xavier didn't hear it?"
"Pay up. It goes into his college fund."
"Are you going to be okay, for now?" he asked softly, continuing to trace a reassuring pattern of warmth on her shirt.
"Yeah, but no guarantees on the time span between breakdowns," she warned, knowing he would understand.