by Diana Palmer
“Another time Tully got spooked when they came up on a skunk. The skunk put out his scent, and when Will rode back, he smelled so bad it took three days to wash the stench off of him.” Brody laughed, but Will pulled his chin as if he might be remembering that day.
Brody continued to tell stories about Will as he showed him the horses, then led him to the dining hall. Several of the ranch hands were laughing and talking about a cow that had gotten stuck in the mud, and the campers filled the room with their chatter.
He introduced Will to Carlos, one of the older boys who’d joined them as a counselor after he’d attended the camp, then he spotted Kim Woodstock and Jordan McGregor, counselors and the wives of two of Brody’s best friends, and made a mental note to seek their help.
Two of the kids ran up and hugged him, and Brody hugged them back. “How’s it going?”
“We roped a calf today,” a little guy named Palmer said.
Freddy, an eight-year-old who’d just joined the group this week, grinned. “And Carlos showed us how to play horseshoes.”
Brody ruffled the boy’s hair. “That was my little brother’s favorite game. He used to beat me at it all the time.” Actually he’d let Will beat him but the joy on his face had been worth it.
“We’re going to camp out under the stars tonight,” Palmer said.
“And Carlos said we get to ride with the cattle drive,” Freddy exclaimed.
“I’m so proud of both of you.” Brody grinned as they raced off.
But when he looked up at Will, his brother was studying him with an odd expression.
“I like seeing the kids so excited,” Brody said. “Most of them come from broken homes, and the majority don’t have good role models. We teach the kids how to trust, how to have fun and work hard, all about teamwork and respecting themselves and others.”
Will lapsed into another sullen silence, but Brody continued the tour, determined his brother see that the BBL was not a prison. The next few hours he introduced him to a couple of other camp groups. They sat in on the camp out where the kids told stories about what they’d done that day, then they roasted hotdogs over the fire.
Will looked puzzled as they walked from the cookout back to the house. When they reached the porch and Brody sank onto the porch swing, Will hesitated.
“Why did you bring me here?” Will finally asked.
Brody swallowed hard. He didn’t know if it was the right moment, but Julie said time was important, that little Hank, and whomever else Will’s abductor had, might be in danger.
So he decided to tell him the truth. “Because you’re my brother,” he said gruffly. “All those stories I told you, they were stories about you and how we grew up.”
Will’s jaw hardened. “That’s not true, my name is Kyle.”
Brody met his gaze. “Kyle is the name the man who kidnapped you gave you. Your real name is William Henry Bloodworth.” Pain wrenched his chest. “We lived on a small ranch with our father. But we both loved the rodeo and when you were ten years old, we went to a local rodeo.”
Will shook his head in denial, but Brody continued. “I was seventeen, your age now. And Julie, Special Agent Whitehead, she was my girlfriend.” Brody leaned forward, his breathing labored as the memory haunted him. “Dad had gone to work a job, and I was supposed to watch you. But Julie and I snuck off to the barn to make out, and I left you in the stands alone. When I returned…” his voice cracked and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were gone.”
“I’m not this Will,” he said. “You may want me to be but I’m not. I’m Kyle.”
“Yes, you are my brother, Will. The DNA results proved it.” Emotions flooded Brody, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I looked for you for years. I dogged the police and FBI, hired private investigators, I told myself I’d never give up. And now you’re here.” His breath rattled out. “I don’t know who took you, but I know he abused you, and…I’m sorry. So sorry that I didn’t protect you. So sorry that you’ve suffered.” God, he wanted to pull his brother in his arms and hug him. “I…wish I could change the past, Will, wish I could take back the horrible things that have happened to you, but I can’t.”
“I’m not this Will,” he said, although his voice sounded weak this time, and pain darkened his eyes. “So stop saying I am.”
Brody heaved another breath. His chest was about to explode. “Yes, you are.” He pulled out a copy of the DNA report he’d received from Julie. “Look at that, Will. It verifies that you are my little brother.”
The boy’s hands shook as he took the paper and read it. When he glanced back up at Brody, anguish flashed across his features, but denial screamed in his eyes. “No…this is wrong. I wasn’t kidnapped. I live with my father and he loves me and…I’m not this Will.”
Then he raced inside the house and slammed the door. Brody closed his eyes, praying he hadn’t made a mistake by pushing him too hard. Julie said it might take time for Will to come around. To trust him.
But they didn’t have time.
Poor little Hank Forte might be getting a beating he didn’t deserve right now.
*
JOSEPHINE CRANTERA fidgeted in the seat beside the TBI sketch artist. “No, he had thick eyebrows. Dark, sort of pinched together.”
Julie listened, praying this wasn’t a false lead.
“Like this?” Ava, the sketch artist asked as she angled herself so Josephine could see the drawing.
“Yes, yes, that’s good. And his nose was flat, like it had been broken. And he had a scar above his right eye.”
Julie studied the photo as the woman continued to describe him.
“His face was longer, narrow,” Josephine said. “And his eyes, brown. Dark. Beady as if he was up to no good.”
“Where was it you saw him?” Julie asked.
“Beside the balloons, you know the dart game.”
Julie nodded. “How old was he?”
Josephine twisted her skirt in her hands, bunching it up. “A young man, maybe twenties. But there was something off about him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way he stared at that little boy. It just didn’t feel right.”
The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck prickled. “Go on.”
Josephine pressed a hand to her mouth. “It was like he was angry at him, but then he had this strange smile. That’s what made me think about him when I saw the picture of the missing little boy on the news.”
Julie frowned. The profile of the kidnapper had put him in his twenties when the crimes had just begun, which would make him in his forties now.
Either this woman was wrong, and this young man had nothing to do with Hank Forte’s disappearance, or…the kidnapper had a partner in crime.
Josephine squinted at the sketch one more time. “Wait. Something else. He had a birthmark, small but on his neck.” She gestured to the right side. “This side, sort of like a strawberry.”
Ava added the birthmark then tapped the page. “How is this?”
“Yes, that’s good,” Josephine said.
Julie’s heart hammered as she studied the finished sketch. “Let me have that for a minute.”
Ava handed it to her and she rushed to her computer then pulled up the screen shots of all the victims, including the shots showing the age progression.
Dear God.
The sketch of the young man Josephine had seen looked like the first boy who had gone missing twenty years ago.
Jeremy…
He was alive.
Nausea suddenly rose to her throat. He had survived, but judging from Josephine’s account, he was now helping his abductor kidnap other boys.
*
KYLE PACED the room, his pulse racing. He was not Will Bloodworth, that boy Brody Bloodworth talked about. He had never met the man before, never lived on a ranch with him, never ridden a horse named Tully or played horseshoes.
His name was Kyle Wylie. He lived with his father and brothers.
&
nbsp; He gave you that name when he took you.
Brody’s words taunted him. Father did give his sons new names, names so the people who’d thrown them away wouldn’t track them down and hurt them or try to take them away from his family.
But he was not this man’s brother.
Why was he trying to make him believe that he was? Why had he brought him here?
Images of the kids running up to Brody and hugging him flashed back. The other campers at the campout had all been smiling and talking to him, too.
All day he’d waited for the prison walls to come down. He’d expected to see barbed wire fencing and guards posted around the ranch. To be punished when he’d arrived.
To go to a dark hole.
But that hadn’t happened.
Yet.
What if today was an act to lull him into trusting them?
That TBI agent would be back, too. Back with her questions and probing and demands.
He paced to the window and peeled back the curtain, then stared across the land. No barbed wires or guards. Even the horses ran free and seemed to be treated well.
A fleeting memory tried to shove through the confusion in his head. When Brody had talked about that rodeo…he had seen images of the barrel racers, of calf-roping contests, of a cowboy on a bull.
Those images had seemed real.
But he had never been to a rodeo before.
He closed his eyes, beating his head with his fists. He had to think straight. Think like his father had taught him. As a soldier would.
That TBI agent with the gold hair and tender smile was the enemy. So was Brody Bloodworth with his phony DNA report.
He paced back across the room, then noticed a scrapbook on the table by the bed. Pulse jumping, he picked it up and opened it. A photo of a younger Brody and an older man and a little boy was on the first page. The little boy had sandy-brown hair and freckles and was staring up at Brody as if he was his hero.
That boy must be the Will Brody talked about. The one he thought was him.
The man was confused. He belonged to Father.
Still, curiosity nagged at him, and he flipped the pages. Images of the two brothers together filled his vision. In one picture, Will was about three and was riding on the same horse with Brody. In another when he was a little older, it looked as if Brody was teaching the kid how to ride. Then there were pictures of Brody winning barrel races, of him playing baseball on a high school team. Of Brody teaching Will how to ride a bike.
Then one of the horseshoe game.
His stomach cramped, and Kyle slammed the book shut, then threw it across the room. That had been a happy family.
But it wasn’t his and it never would be.
He had to go back to Father. Make sure the other boys weren’t being punished because of him.
Footsteps pounded on the steps in the hall, and Will flipped the lights in the room off, kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed.
He’d wait until Brody was asleep then he’d find a way to escape. He’d seen a Jeep parked beside a truck outside when they’d arrived.
He’d take the vehicle and hightail it back to his father.
Try to save little Hank from the hole.
Footsteps sounded outside the room, and he kept himself locked inside. No way he wanted another confrontation with Brody. Finally sometime after midnight, when the house was dark, he sneaked down the stairs. He wished he had the damn keys to that Jeep, but he could hotwire it in no time.
He held his breath as he slipped out the front door. Like a good soldier escaping the enemy, he didn’t make a sound as he closed it. The sky was dark, void of stars, the dark clouds shutting out the light.
It reminded him of the hole.
Father might put him back there when he returned, but he’d have to risk it. His boots snapped twigs as he crossed to the vehicle, the sound of a horse whinnying in the distance making him pause.
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to escape.
He scanned the area around the Jeep and the pastures but didn’t see anyone, so he eased open the door to the Jeep, then slid in and bent over to try to hotwire the vehicle.
Suddenly footsteps crunched gravel, echoing in the silence, and he realized someone had seen him. His heart raced. He had to hurry.
A figure suddenly appeared behind him. He felt it, heard his breathing. He gritted his teeth, fear immobilizing him.
It was too late to escape. Too late to help little Hank.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brody fought disappointment as he grabbed the car door. He’d hoped he’d gotten through to Will earlier, maybe triggered some memories, but apparently not.
The boy would rather go back to his abuser than stay with him.
That hurt.
“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll be glad to drive you,” he said.
Will spun around toward him, his eyes wild with fright. Brody’s pulse clamored as he realized that Will was afraid of him.
Or maybe he’d thought he was someone else?
Will wrapped his hands around the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. “You’d take me?” he asked.
Brody grimaced at the scars on his knuckles. “That depends on where you were going. You want to take me to the man who kidnapped you and Hank?”
Will glared at him. “No.”
“Then like it or not, you’re under my supervision. It’s here or back to jail.”
“Like this isn’t another prison?” Will asked in a sharp voice.
Brody sighed. “Does this ranch look like a prison? Are there bars on your windows? Guards at the door? Cells?”
Will gave him a challenging look. “You picked up troubled kids from orphanages and brought them here to work for you. You may act nice at first, but I bet once you have them here for a while, all that changes.”
“Is that what happened to you?” Brody asked. “The man who kidnapped you treated you nice at first, then he turned on you and started beating you?”
The color drained from Will’s face, and he averted his eyes as if he realized he’d said too much.
“He beat you and locked you up and did God knows what?” Brody said, the images haunting him. “So why would you go back to him?” He pounded his fist on the roof of the car. “That is where you were going, isn’t it?”
Will worked his mouth from side to side, then slid from the car and faced him. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”
“Try me.” Brody squared his shoulders. Will was almost as tall as him but leaner. Still he had that hardness in his eyes that cut him to the bone.
Will made a sarcastic sound low in his throat. “Why? So you can use it against me?”
Brody silently cursed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Will. I’m on your side just like I am for these kids. I don’t bring them here to work. I don’t beat them or hurt them. Most of them have had some hard knocks in their lives. They’ve been abused, abandoned, hurt, and some of them have even skirted trouble with the law.” He paused to let that sink in. “But I treat them with respect, teach them to respect themselves. No one on my staff, and that includes me, ever lays a hand to one of them in anger.”
Brody gave him an imploring look. “Please, let me help you. Talk to me.”
“You can’t help me,” Will said, his voice low, filled with despair. “No one can.”
Brody reached out to touch him, but Will jerked away.
Headlights suddenly beamed a path down the drive, and Brody sighed in relief again. He’d been waiting up on Julie, wondering why she’d been gone so long.
But when she rolled to a stop and climbed out, the expression on her face sent tension coiling in his belly.
She shot a look at Will. “We have to talk.”
Brody gritted his teeth. Something was wrong. Was Will in more trouble than he thought?
*
JULIE DREADED the conversation she was about to have because of Brody. But she had to question Will again.
/> And push him harder to tell the truth.
The realization that Brody and Will had been having an altercation beside the Jeep hit her.
She narrowed her eyes at Will. “What’s going on out here?”
Will clamped his mouth shut and stared across the pasture. Brody shrugged. “We were just talking.”
Will glanced at Brody as if he was surprised he hadn’t revealed more. Judging from the fact that they were standing beside the SUV, she’d bet Will had tried to escape.
She pointed toward the house. “Let’s go inside.”
Brody gestured to Will, and Julie led the way into the house, then veered into Brody’s office.
“What’s wrong?” Brody asked as she set her briefcase on the conference table Brody used for meetings.
Julie cut her eyes toward Will, then removed a folder and opened it. “Sit down, Will, I have some questions for you.”
All emotion fled from his face, and he resumed his military mask as he slid into the wooden chair. Brody looked nervous, but Julie forced herself to focus.
Julie wanted the man who’d taken Will, and she was going to find him, even if it hurt Will and Brody in the process.
She laid Hank Forte’s photograph on the table and pushed it toward Will. “Do you recognize this little boy?”
A muscle ticked in Will’s jaw. “I already told you I don’t.”
“The thing is, Will, I know you’re lying.”
He stiffened and shot her a cold look.
“See,” Julie continued. “I think that the same man who kidnapped you seven years ago kidnapped him.”
Will folded his arms.
“I also think that he kidnapped all of these kids.” She pushed photo after photo onto the table, forcing him to look at them. Then she tapped Jeremy’s photo. “We believe that this boy was his first victim.”
Then she laid the drawing the sketch artist had created from the woman’s testimony in front of Will. “You say you don’t know these other boys. But this guy—how about him?”