by Lisa Childs
ROYCE TIPPED BACK the driver’s seat to a more comfortable reclining position. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of sleeping, although his body screamed for some rest.
But his mind screamed at him to think. And stay alert. These would-be kidnappers were bold. A boldness born of stupidity or desperation? Either reason could prove dangerous to Jeremy and Sarah.
But Sarah was smart. He couldn’t forget that. She was right to mistrust him. She knew he didn’t have her best interests at heart, that he wanted her for another reason. That he just plain wanted her…
He groaned and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. Jeez, had it been so long since he’d held a woman that deep gray eyes and silky red hair could steal his objectivity? He couldn’t afford to get emotionally involved with Sarah or her son. The price was too high.
Despite the cold night air blowing through his open window, sweat beaded on his brow. He picked up his cell phone from the console and punched in a number familiar to him even though he seldom dialed it.
“Hello?” A deep voice grumbled with impatience.
Royce sighed. “Father, sorry for waking you.”
“I wouldn’t expect to hear from you at a reasonable hour. I hadn’t gone to bed yet, though. I’m not an old man who sleeps his life away.”
No, he wheeled and dealed his away, losing a wife and neglecting a child and never noticing. Royce squeezed his eyes shut. “Well…”
What could he say? The old man took exception to his every statement, and Royce was too tired to fight.
“So did you find her?” Donald asked.
“How’s Bart?”
“I asked you a question first.”
Royce bit back the sharp retort that immediately sprang to the tip of his tongue. “I won’t know until Bart sees her. Has he come out of the coma?”
“You never could give a straight answer. No, he has not. They doubt he’ll ever come out of it. You’re wasting your time, boy, as usual.”
He hadn’t expected a pat on the back. The old man didn’t give them to anyone except himself. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“If you really found her, bring her back now.”
“It’s not that simple, Father.”
The old man coughed. “Never is with you. And, either way, it won’t mean a damn thing to Bart.”
“I don’t believe that, Father. The doctors didn’t think he’d make it this long. He’s waiting for me to bring him Sarah Mars.”
“Then get back before he gives up on you, Royce.” The line clicked dead. He already had.
Royce flipped the phone shut, set it back on the console and grabbed the knapsack from the passenger’s seat. The slim notebook computer slid onto his lap and then booted up with impressive speed. He loved his gadgets.
In minutes, borrowing top-secret clearances and passwords gained him access to the story of his Sarah Mars’s life. His? He meant this one he’d found. This Sarah as opposed to all the others he’d tracked. This was nothing personal to him. This was for his godfather.
The old man had to be wrong. Bart was waiting for him. He’d always taken more interest in Royce than his father had. Royce owed him. He had to find a way to get Sarah to the hospital.
Jeremy’s hospital birth certificate scrolled across the screen. He pressed a finger to the tiny footprint. According to the date of this document and Sarah’s date of birth, she’d only been sixteen.
Jeremy’s father had died before he was born. Royce’s stomach knotted. The kid needed a father. A man old enough to be his grandfather hadn’t sufficed. He hadn’t played ball, coached his games or caught him smoking. Royce knew how that was, being born to his father late in the old man’s life. He could commiserate with Jeremy, but he couldn’t care about him. He couldn’t care about either of them.
He slammed the laptop shut and dropped it back onto the passenger seat. He’d found her. What did he do now?
Short of kidnapping her, he couldn’t figure how to get her out of Winter Falls. He couldn’t even figure how to gain her trust. He suspected few people ever did.
The night air drifted through the open window, raising goose bumps along the bare flesh of his forearms. He needed to move around. He needed to check the grounds again. Despite the alarms wired to the gates at the street and the beach, the estate was an intruder’s ultimate playground. Entrance could be gained through any of the tree-lined ravines.
The muscles tightened in his gut, and he slid through the open window of his truck. No sense in alerting anyone with a flash of the dome light if he’d opened the door. Moonlight weakly penetrated shifting clouds to guide him around the imposing brick and stucco house to where the lawn dropped steeply to the beach.
He stilled and cocked his head, listening to the sounds of the night. The trees rustled as the wind played through them. Other noises accompanied the wind; the steady chirp of crickets, the whistling of tree frogs, and the soft lap of the waves against the sand below.
The snap of a twig. He peered through the darkness. An animal. Had to be a nocturnal critter.
Through swaying branches he glimpsed the lake, glittering in the sparse moonlight like a rolling blanket of diamonds.
Before he could utter the gasp that caught in his throat over the beauty of the scene below him, another twig snapped. He slunk deeper into the trees and concentrated on the shadows around him. One moved, separating from the darkness, as it snuck toward the house. A two-legged shadow.
Reflex had his hand reaching for the holster he hadn’t brought. He hadn’t thought he would need it to track down a woman from Bart’s past. Regret flashed through him, but then his stomach muscles tightened as if he’d been kicked. He had only instinct now.
In the trees at the side of the house, he lost sight of the intruder as clouds shifted and blocked the moonlight. Careful of the darkness, he slowed his steps, minimizing the crunch of branches and dead leaves beneath the soft rubber soles of his worn running shoes.
But another noise shattered the relative quiet. The security alarm shrieked for several of Royce’s erratic heart beats before silence reigned again. The soft light that had shone earlier from within the house had been extinguished, leaving dark holes where the windows had glowed.
Had the intruder already gained entry? Not that fast. Unless Royce had been following the wrong shadow…
He rounded the corner of the house as moonlight burned through the fog of clouds, touching briefly on a shadow crossing the gravel courtyard near the den. Then the clouds thickened, and the light evaporated.
The soft breeze carried the crisp smell of the water and the musky odor of moss. And the whisper of stones skittering across the pavement.
Edging around a tree toward the small courtyard, Royce glimpsed only a movement of shadow, tall and imposing. For a second the clouds shifted again and light burned through, glinting off the barrel of a gun. The band moved on, thicker, dousing the glimmer.
His breath caught and held, swelling in his burning lungs. The intruder wouldn’t get inside the house, wouldn’t threaten Jeremy and Sarah. Not while Royce breathed. Knowing his only defense against the gun was the element of surprise, he leapt into the darkness.
Chapter Five
Sarah paced in front of the dresser she’d shoved against the door. The first note of the alarm had propelled her into Jeremy’s room. She’d moved the heavy piece of furniture before the alarm had abruptly stopped. Before the power had been cut.
Someone had gotten past the security system, just as Royce had said. Why hadn’t she listened to Royce? Should she have trusted him? No. She knew better than to trust any man. They all lied, all made promises they never intended to keep.
In the past she’d been given assurances of undying love. Only that love had died a quick, painful death. And later, so had the man. Royce hadn’t promised love, but hadn’t he promised to protect them? She shook her head. No, he had made no promises at all.
“Mom, what’s going on? Why did the alarm g
o off?” Jeremy sat up in his rumpled bed, his back braced against the headboard as he fumbled for the lamp near him. Click. Click. Only darkness reigned but for the faint moonlight filtering through the tall windows. Fear widened his bright eyes. “Why’d you lock us in?”
Sarah couldn’t stop pacing. If she did, her trembling knees threatened to fold. “It’s nothing, Jeremy. The alarm did go off. But Royce is checking on it.”
She hoped. Was he still outside, or had the cold sent him to a hotel in town? She stepped closer to the window, glad it faced the driveway, as the silver metal of his truck glowed below. He hadn’t left. And she couldn’t discern any shadow within the truck.
Had he walked into danger? Or was he the danger? Had he tried to get inside to prove his opinion of the security system? Or could he have tripped the alarm to frighten her into returning to Milwaukee with him?
She bit her lip. Although the alarm had been cut off, it should have reported to the police department. Why did no sirens blare as cruisers tore up her driveway? Why was the only sound her shallow breaths?
“Mr. Graham will find out what happened. It was probably just an animal, Mom, which is good since he doesn’t have a gun on him.”
She’d learned that at the ice cream parlor. He’d only recently returned to the country and never tried to get weapons past airport security. Getting arms in foreign lands never posed a problem for him. But he was in Winter Falls now and unarmed. How much danger was he in without a weapon?
Jeremy kicked off the covers and climbed out of bed. He grasped her hand in both of us. “It’ll be okay, Mom.”
She smiled over his attempt at comfort. Her brave son. “Jeremy…” She squeezed his long fingers.
“Mom, if you really don’t believe you’re the one Mr. Graham is looking for, why are you so scared? What’s going on? Really going on?”
The words she wanted to tell him caught in her throat. In some ways he was so mature, but in others he was still a boy. She couldn’t scare him any more than she already had. “I bet you’re right. It’s just an animal.”
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the quiet of the night and called her a liar.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Royce!” Panic and guilt flooded her. She’d doubted him, and he’d gone unarmed into the night to protect them.
“Mom, we have to see what’s going on!”
Her fingers clutched the edge of the dresser as fiercely as fear clutched her heart. “Jeremy, I—”
She had to think about her son’s safety. But she had to know if Royce was all right.
“You stay here.” She struggled to slide the dresser back the couple of feet she’d pushed it before the door. She inhaled a shaky breath. “Lock the door behind me and shove the dresser back. Don’t open it for anyone but me or Dylan.”
“Mom—”
She dragged him close for a fierce hug. “Stay here. Stay safe. That’s what you need to do for me.”
His arms clutched then dropped back to his sides. “Okay. See if Mr. Graham—”
His voice cracked from fear, not hormones, this time.
She nodded and pulled open the bedroom door. “I’ll be right back.” Had she just made a promise she couldn’t keep? She shut the door and waited for the click of the lock before she ran across the landing for the stairs.
The steel treads chilled her feet and rattled beneath her footfalls. Her toe had just touched the cold slate when the front door flew open, the alarm pealing out again due to battery backup.
Trembling hand on the railing, she turned to flee up the stairs. Curses stopped her. Although she’d only met him today, she knew that voice. “Royce!”
“Sarah, you’re okay? Where’s Jeremy?” He grunted, and something slammed against the wall.
She peered down the dark hall to the entrance. “We’re okay. Royce, what’s—”
A hulking shadow headed toward her. As moonlight washed over it, two shapes formed. Royce carried a body across his wide shoulders. “You killed someone?”
He bent and dropped the body on the floor, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs. Then Royce jumped up, staggered and headed for the security control panel. The blare of the alarm fell to silence. He must have noted the code she’d punched in earlier.
She forced herself to glance down, her gaze sliding over the khaki uniform and dark hair. “Deputy Jones?”
“And he’s not dead. Nearly killed me, though. That guy should not be armed.”
“Deputy Jones?” She shook her head. “He tried to shoot you?”
Jones shifted, a groan emanating from him.
Royce raked a hand through his tousled hair. Bits of grass and gravel drifted to the floor with a couple drops of blood.
Her heart clenched. “Did he shoot you?”
Royce squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Caught me in the nose with the back of his head.”
Her fingers ached to reach for him, to offer comfort with her touch. “But you’re all right?”
“Probably nothing more than I deserved.” His light-brown gaze slid over her.
Sarah shivered, mindful now of the cool night breeze drifting through the open door and swirling around her bare legs. Why had she bothered changing into her nightgown when she’d known sleep would prove impossible? The silk shifted against her body like cold water poured over her skin.
“Let me get you an ice pack before your nose swells.”
He caught her arm before she could turn for the kitchen, his rough fingers sliding down to encircle her wrist. His voice slightly hoarse, he said, “I’m fine. There’s no swelling. Go upstairs and get a robe. You’re freezing.”
Heat emanated from his hand up her arm, the chill leaving her blood as she shivered for another reason.
Deputy Jones shifted on the floor, groaning, and Sarah tugged her wrist free of Royce’s grasp.
“What…happened?” the deputy asked.
“You tell me,” Royce quipped. “What the hell were you doing sneaking around?”
Jones’s lips curled into a snarl. “My job.” He pulled himself up to a sitting position, grunting with each movement. “The sheriff posted me by the gate at the street.”
“At the street? I didn’t find you by the street.”
“I saw someone moving around by the house and came up the drive.”
“Me, probably,” Royce admitted.
Sarah’s rapid pulse rate finally began to slow. A misunderstanding. It had all been a misunderstanding.
“But you came up from the street?” Royce continued, his tone quietly intense.
The deputy nodded, winced in the moonlight, then said, “Yeah. I was parked right outside the gate.”
“But I saw the intruder…”
“Where, Royce?” Sarah’s heart stilled as panic returned.
“…come up from the beach.” He swiveled toward the open door. “Damn!”
EARLIER he’d been glad he’d worn the old running shoes. Now he wished for his climbing shoes as he juggled the deputy’s high-beam flashlight and sought purchase on the steep hillside to the beach below him. The shoes were only a few yards away, in the back of the Avalanche, along with some nylon webbing and a climbing rope.
But he couldn’t waste any time retrieving them, not if the intruders still lurked on the estate. He’d checked inside the house already and found no evidence of forced entry. Outside, he’d discovered a smashed power meter. The deputy worked on starting the backup gasoline generator while Royce had taken the younger man’s gun and flashlight to canvas the grounds.
He didn’t happen upon any more two-legged shadows although he had scared up a few of the four-legged variety. Instead of using the stairs built into the hillside, he continued down the steep treed slope to the beach, using the first light of dawn to find footholds. Once in a while he had to catch a tree, fingers scraping across the bark, to prevent a fall.
Years of rock climbing had roughened up his palms and fingers to the abrasiveness of sandpaper, so no pain bothere
d him. What bothered him was the threat against Sarah’s son. Why? She’d asked it earlier, and he’d never stopped asking himself. Why?
The toe of his shoe skidded in sand as he neared the beach, and he dropped the last couple of feet down to the shore. The beam of the flashlight jiggled and glinted off something half buried in the sand.
He glanced around, securing the area, before he reached for it. But first, from his pocket he dragged the handkerchief Sarah had pressed to his nose earlier. Using a clean corner of the linen, he wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle of a pocketknife. He opened the handkerchief in his palm and shone the light on what Bart McCarthy had always put in his safe with his other valuables. The pocketknife Royce had made for him at junior-high summer camp.
Clutching what Bart had deemed a priceless heir-loom when Royce had gifted it to him, he swung the beam of the flashlight across the sand. The sand still bore the shape of the hull of a small boat that had been banked there, secured with a rope around a rock near where the knife had fallen into the sand.
Accident or message? Were they reiterating what they’d said on the phone, they weren’t going to let the Tracker get in their way? How did they know him?
These people, who had followed Royce from Milwaukee to Winter Falls, were determined to take Jeremy by whatever means necessary. Land. Water. Royce hoped those options didn’t include death.
And again he asked why. Why hurt Bart? Why threaten a child? What was the link between Bart and Sarah? The knife, dropped either by accident or on purpose, proved Royce’s instincts hadn’t failed him. He had the right Sarah Mars. And to learn the other answers to his questions, he would need to bring her to Milwaukee.
“What did you find?”
He started as Sarah’s soft voice carried on dawn’s cool breeze. Swallowing a moment’s guilt, he slid the knife, wrapped in her handkerchief, into his pocket. “A boat was pulled to shore recently.”
“Tonight? The kidnappers came by water?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” The lie burned his throat.