The Keres Case (Heartfelt Cases Book 4)

by Gilbert,Julie C.

  Realizing he’d never been in any danger, the boy flushed and glared at Ryker.

  “You’ll pay for that! You can’t keep us!”

  Karen and the quiet boy tried to calm the loud one.

  Feeling the vibrations from the bars still tingling in his hand, Ryker put the knife away.

  “I can keep you, but as I said, I have other plans for you. Behave and you can go home. Misbehave and I’ll send your brother back alone.”

  Ryker walked away from the cell. He didn’t doubt his self-control, but killing the obnoxious one was tempting.

  ***

  Sleep now. A friend will come and help you.

  “What friend?” Malia murmured. She never got an answer. Inviting waves of sleepiness tugged her consciousness downward, promising reprieve from the pain. She fought the sensation long enough to hear part of their conversation, but her eyes were too heavy to open.

  “The dude hurt her pretty badly,” said a young male voice.

  For an instant, Malia thought it might be Varick, but she knew his voice too well to let the mistake stand long.

  “She has experienced worse,” said Nadia. “When she is stronger, remind her to turn on the tracer.”

  Nadia must have sent an avatar.

  Malia desperately wanted to open her eyes and see her sister, but she was too tired. The effort to listen took all of her concentration.

  “Why don’t I just turn the thing on now?” asked the helper.

  “Malia is not well. She will need to be stronger for the final confrontation.”

  “Man, I’ll never understand you people. Me, I understand fine, but the rest of this is some sort of craziness.”

  “Thank you for helping,” said Nadia. “Is everything in place?”

  Malia drifted off to sleep before she could hear the young man’s answer.

  Who is he?

  Chapter 26:

  Keep Her Safe

  Comfort Cottages

  Orlando, Florida

  “You brought tracers on our vacation?” Rachel Parker asked her husband incredulously. She partially wanted to wrap Jon in a big hug and kiss his paranoid face. Another part of her wanted to shriek and throw the tracers in his paranoid face.

  “Rach, I carry them everywhere.” Jon finished installing a tracer in one of her white running sneakers. “I’m putting one in your necklace, your wallet, your cell phone, and a few other places.” He picked up the necklace, opened the locket that formerly held a picture of them, and slipped in a tiny black object. “You should probably keep the necklace on until we get the all-clear from Patrick.”

  “Other places?” Rachel repeated, confused. She slipped the necklace on and fiddled until she got the clasp situated.

  Jon nodded and offered a sheepish grin.

  “If you don’t know about the hiding places, you can’t let anyone know about them.”

  “Don’t you think this is going too far?”

  “Not if it keeps you safe,” Jon replied, gazing steadily at her.

  Brushing her wallet and cell phone aside, Rachel sat on the bed next to her husband and leaned close.

  “Maybe this level of fear is what the guy wants.”

  “I hope so,” Jon said in a voice that declared his doubts. He kissed her lightly then got up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get Jason. He needs to know what’s going on.” Jon opened the door and went to find their elder son.

  Alarm coursed through Rachel. She shot off the bed and through the open doorway to the common room.

  “Jon!” She caught his right arm and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “Don’t. He’s too young. Let him enjoy the trip. Please.” Sensing his hesitation, Rachel tugged on Jon’s arm, and added, “At least convince me it’s necessary.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jason. His half-curious, half-anxious gaze took in both parents, analyzing who would be more likely to explain.

  “What’s wrong?” Andrew echoed, worried about being left out.

  Caitlyn laughed when she saw her parents and threw the slimy rubber ring she had been gnawing on out of the car seat they’d left her in.

  “Wait here, Jay, we’ll call you in a minute,” Jon said. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Andy, play nicely with Caitlyn for a moment. Jay, keep an eye on them.” Looking grim, Jon led the way back into their room. As soon as the door closed, he said, “He’s old enough to know there might be some danger. He’s probably bursting with questions. We haven’t exactly been hiding the fact that something’s wrong.”

  Rachel knew Jon was right, but her mothering instincts fought for the idea of preserving her son’s innocent belief in the goodness of the world.

  “We haven’t even told him everything about Emily yet.”

  “It’s a good time for that too,” Jon said gravely.

  Feeling defeated, Rachel perched on their bed and waved for her husband to do as he liked. She had heard that tone before and knew that no amount of arguing would alter his mind. Deep down, she also understood that the time to enlighten Jason was overdue.

  Lord, give us the words to explain things to him.

  Rachel heard the beginning notes of a Disney movie and knew Jon expected the conversation to last a long time. She ambled to the threshold and watched her husband finish settling Andrew and Caitlyn in front of his laptop. Then, she cleared off the bed for their serious talk.

  The forty minute conversation that followed knocked down most of the emotional walls Rachel had erected around thoughts of Emily, the daughter they had lost years ago to a sniper’s bullet. She cried—they all did—but through force of will, she managed not to sob uncontrollably.

  Jon did most of the talking, as it was his past that had led to the ordeal. He explained why their last name had once been Collins and why Jason, Emily, and Rachel had been kidnapped. Then, Rachel explained what happened immediately after Emily’s death. Finally, Jon summarized the new dangers facing them and explained Jason’s duties should anything happen to either or both of them.

  Jon finished by saying, “We’re not certain about anything, but we want to be cautious. The bad man stole your mother’s bracelet to leave a warning for the Tyler Task Force.”

  “Would it work?” Jason fixed deep green eyes on his mother.

  “Would what work, baby?” asked Rachel.

  “Would the bad man be able to make Aunt Ann and Uncle Patrick stop trying to catch him?” Jason’s voice contained concern, earnestness, and curiosity.

  “Honey, I don’t think anything could stop those two,” Rachel said with a sad smile.

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Jon commented.

  Jason shook his head.

  “Would they stop if you asked them?” His question was quiet and desperate.

  “We wouldn’t ask them.” Rachel drew her son into a tight hug.

  “Why?” Jason demanded, trying to pull out of the embrace. His distraught expression added: Don’t you care about us?

  Rachel shot her husband a look that said you-started-this-so-say-something-profound.

  “There will always be people trying to bully you into one thing or another, Jay, but you can’t give in,” Jon said. “The man we talked about has hurt a lot of people. We need to stop him.”

  “But you could die!” Jason wailed, soaking his mother’s shirt with fresh, hot tears. His grip tightened.

  Heart aching to comfort her child and grateful he’d finally called out the elephant in the room, Rachel waited out the worst of the sobs.

  “God knows, Jay. Life is fragile and precious and should be appreciated and cherished and fought for, but not at any cost.” Rachel gently pulled back so she could cup Jason’s face and hold his gaze. “Never let anybody force you away from the right path. Daddy and the Duncans and the others have to do their jobs. Always.” Rachel’s heart trembled with the fear she kept locked away.

  The rest of the evening proceeded in a much smoother fashion. The family jo
ined the younger children for the last of Up. Actually, by the end, only Rachel and Jon were fully conscious. They roused a semi-conscious Jason for nightly turn-in activities, moved Caitlyn to the crib set up in their room, and wrestled Andrew into pajamas. Once the boys were tucked in and kissed, Rachel and Jon attended to their own nighttime routines and settled down to rest even though they doubted sleep would come.

  Several hours later, crashing sounds and screams from the boys’ room instantly awakened Rachel. Her head whipped left and met her husband’s alarmed eyes.

  “Stay here!” Jon barked, untangling himself from the sheets and dashing toward the door. He paused with his hand poised on the handle and threw a grim look her way. “Lock yourself in the bathroom.”

  Normally, Rachel would have protested such an order, but she recognized Jon’s intense worry. Instinct told her to rush to the boys, but Jon wouldn’t be able to help them if he was worried about her. She entered the bathroom, flipped on the lights, locked the door, and leaned back against it.

  This is wrong. She tried to distract herself by throwing cold water on her face and attempting to pray. Lord God, protect my children! She closed the toilet lid and sat down, letting the frantic prayer loop through her mind.

  Shouts and more crashes reached her from the common room.

  A moment later, Jon’s strained voice called her name from outside the bathroom.

  Knees weak with relief, Rachel whipped open the door before registering his defeated tone. The eager smile and burning questions died swift deaths when she saw the horrifying scene before her. A man wearing a blue bandana over the lower half of his face stood with Caitlyn nestled in his arms, a long gun muzzle tucked under her chin. The baby and the silenced gun presented such an odd sight, that Rachel could only stare. Andrew and Jason sat in the middle of her bed, the former sobbing and the latter gripping the blankets hard and scowling at another man who pointed a gun at his face.

  “Fight back!” Jason demanded, swiping at angry tears. He already had a black eye from doing just that.

  “Shut up, kid,” said the man holding the gun on Jason. This one wore a red bandana.

  Tearing her gaze away from her boys, Rachel looked to her husband and gasped. Jon’s gray T-shirt was torn and blood dripped from his nose and several cuts on his face. His chest heaved with suppressed rage, but he stood by the bedroom door with his hands clasped behind his head. In a straight fight, he could have taken either of these two assailants, but the guns threatening the children bound him as surely as any physical restraints.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Parker,” greeted the man cradling Caitlyn. “Please get dressed. We have an appointment to make.”

  Rachel blinked at the man.

  “Quickly now,” said the man. He waited two seconds and sighed. “Shoot the younger boy.”

  “No!” the shout came instantly and with equal force from Rachel and Jon.

  “If you value his life, follow my orders. They’re simple, and I won’t repeat myself,” said the man.

  “Please fight back,” Jason pleaded again.

  The man standing before Jason backhanded him, sending the boy crashing into his brother. They clung together, terrified of the man’s anger.

  “Stop it!” Rachel cried. “There’s no reason to hurt them!” She moved quickly past the man holding her daughter and dug clothes out of her suitcase. Turning her back to the men, she changed as quickly and modestly as possible. She reached for the sneakers containing the tracer.

  “No shoes, money, or phones,” ordered the leader.

  Rachel didn’t argue, but her hopes of making it out of this alive took a hit. A spark of hope returned a moment later when she remembered her necklace. The leader then forced her to trade places with Jon. Rachel reluctantly interlocked her fingers, tucked her hands behind her head, and waited while Jon put on daytime clothes and washed his face in the bathroom. She watched helplessly as the leader had Jon gather their cell phones and hand them to the other man who crushed them beneath his heel. Next, the leader strode over to the phone by the bed and shot it. Rachel flinched.

  “Now that you’re both presentable, here’s what’s going to happen,” said the man with Caitlyn. “My friend is going to wait here with the children while we go to the parking lot. When we’re safely away, he’ll leave them for somebody to find.”

  Caitlyn woke up, spotted the stranger, and worked up a full-blown fit in seconds. The man awkwardly tried to soothe her with one arm while still aiming the gun. A panicky expression crossed his face.

  “Let me calm her,” Rachel offered.

  The man hesitated.

  “She’s upset because you’re a stranger,” Rachel explained, unclasping her hands and motioning for him to give her the baby.

  Nodding curtly, the man walked over and dumped the squalling child into Rachel’s arms. Then, he stepped back so he could keep her in his gun sights. Caitlyn settled down almost as soon as Rachel wrapped her arms around her and started whispering reassurances.

  “We’ve got to go,” said the other man impatiently.

  “Let me give her to my son,” Rachel requested.

  “Fine,” said the leader. “Make it quick. Parker, stand over there out of the way.”

  Jon obediently moved back to the indicated corner.

  Feet heavy with dread, Rachel plodded to the bed and waved Jason over.

  His expression spoke of hurt, betrayal, and anger.

  “You said not to let anyone bully you,” he accused. “Fight them!” he added so only she could hear, throwing a fearful glance at the man who had hit him before.

  Actually, his father had mentioned that part, but Rachel was beyond arguing technicalities. Leaning over so she could kiss his cheek, she too whispered.

  “There are times to fight and times to wait. Daddy and I will wait for the right time to fight. Be brave and protect the others. When you get free, call Aunt Ann and Uncle Patrick.”

  “Hurry up, lady,” snapped the lead kidnapper.

  Rachel gently handed Caitlyn over to Jason, kissed Andrew, and returned her attention to Jason.

  “Keep her safe.” With that last request to her firstborn, Rachel stepped back and let herself be led away from her children.

  Chapter 27:

  Favors

  Starbucks Parking Lot

  Erie, Pennsylvania

  “This is wrong!” Rita Carver whispered fiercely, leaning close to the man she had just met. The untouched iced coffee chilled her good hand and soaked the bandage wrapped around her other hand. The wound reminded her of the scariest day of her life. “I shouldn’t be here!”

  “Easy for you to say,” hissed Frank Kyte. “Your boy is safe at home. My boys are with this madman. He told me who you were and said you would explain the score. So explain.”

  Thinking about the packet of photos she had received this afternoon, Rita drew a big breath and spoke despite her misgivings.

  “The man calls himself Ryker because it means ‘strong power.’ He’s using you and me to demonstrate his power to the authorities. He wants us to set a trap for somebody.”

  “Who? How?” Mr. Kyte demanded.

  “He wouldn’t say how exactly,” Rita replied with a helpless shrug. “He said we needed to come up with a plan ourselves and that would serve as the price of freedom.”

  “Freedom?”

  “Freedom for your boys and freedom from further involvement with Ryker,” Rita clarified.

  “So this is a one-time deal, right?”

  “So he says.” Rita’s voice relayed her doubts. Once she had Silas safe that first day, she thought it would be over, but then, Ryker had called her. “All I got from him is a meeting place, some target information, and a time to deliver her.”

  Mr. Kyte stared deep into his overpriced coffee then opened the lid and tossed out the contents. Dropping the thick cardboard cup, he crushed it beneath his right heel.

  “Should we call the police?” Rita asked tentatively.

&nb
sp; “No! He has my boys.”

  “He’ll have to bring them to the drop point for a trade,” Rita argued. “That’s what he called it a ‘trade.’ If the police can catch him, we won’t have to fear him any longer.”

  “We’re not gambling with my sons’ lives,” Frank Kyte declared. “You want to gamble with your own kid’s life, fine. Best of luck, but Peter and Nathan are mine. How much time do we have?”

  “The meeting’s tomorrow at eleven, but he said we could come as early as eight if we had her by then. It’s going to take a few hours to get to the meeting place.”

  “That’s not a lot of time,” Mr. Kyte grumbled. “What did you have in mind?”

  Rita drank great gulps of her icy drink to avoid answering. The sudden infusion of cold gave her a headache. A low rumble of thunder announced a storm’s intentions.

  “Oh, come on. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t given it some thought,” Kyte pressed.

  Clearing her throat, Rita nervously fingered her drink.

  “Do you have a gun?”

  “No, but that doesn’t matter,” Mr. Kyte said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve got a baseball bat and a tire iron. Those should work.”

  “We can’t kill her,” Rita said, fear seizing her anew. “He was very specific about that.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do? We can’t exactly say, ‘Please allow us to deliver you to a guy who wants to kill you, but don’t worry, it’s for a good cause.’”

  Lightning flashed and thunder followed. The skies opened up with a spectacular release of water that soaked them.

  “Get in!” Mr. Kyte shouted, unlocking his truck.

  They scrambled inside and spent a few minutes watching the storm unleash gusty winds at the trees lining the parking lot. Rain bounced off the truck with such force that they would have had to shout to continue their conversation. The windshield filled with small pieces of hail. When the rain finally settled to a steady, consistent shower, Rita spoke.

  “I’ll call and get her to come to my house.”

  Kyte shook his head.