by Lisa Childs
Tears burned her eyes, and sobs choked her throat. She’d never hear that again.
Rough palms covered her hands, pulling them away from her face. “Sarah, look!”
Red and blue lights arced around the parking lot, dispelling the last of the fog. The sirens of the patrol cars had been silenced, so Sarah heard her own gasp as she caught sight of her child.
He stood a few feet from her, wearing black clothes that set off his gold hair. He’d thought himself invincible, like a lawman. But now tears streamed from his bright-blue eyes and he rushed into his mother’s arms.
“Mom!”
Sarah pulled him close, her pounding heart matching the rhythm of his. “You’re all right? You’re not hurt?”
“No, Mom.”
She peered up at Royce. “Thank you. How did you find him?”
Royce shook his head, tears swimming in his eyes. “He found us.”
He swept an arm around them and led them away from the police officers who swarmed the lot, picking up shells from the shots Royce and the killer had fired. “He escaped on his own, Sarah.”
Jeremy lifted his head from Sarah’s shoulder. His young voice vibrated with excitement and residual fear. “No, Royce, I used what you taught me. I played dead. Then when he started on me with that needle, I kicked him in the nose and kept kicking. Then I ran.”
“That’s nothing new. You used to do that for all your immunizations.” Sarah ruffled his hair, tenderness flowing through her along with relief and happiness. “You hate needles.”
He nodded. “I really do.”
Despite his bravery, he was still a young boy. Her baby.
“So you only saw one man?” Royce asked. He turned to Sarah, lifting a brow as the coroner’s employees started past with the stretcher.
Her joy dimmed as reality slapped her hard. In order to keep her baby safe, Royce and the police needed more information. Information only Jeremy could provide. She squeezed his thin shoulders and nodded her acceptance at Royce.
Royce held up a hand, signaling the men to stop. “Jeremy, can you do something for me? Can you tell me if this is the man who held you?”
When Jeremy nodded, Royce pulled back the zipper of the body bag. “Is that him?”
Jeremy shuddered. “Yeah.”
“There was nobody else?”
Jeremy shook his head. “He called someone on the phone, but I don’t know who.”
“He had a cell phone?”
Her son nodded again, wearily. With motherly concern, she noted the dark circles of fatigue lying beneath his eyes.
“Royce, we need to get him to a hospital, make sure he’s all right.” She wanted a more complete work-up than the paramedics could offer. She wanted them to run tests to discern what that man had tried to give her son.
She might have lost touch with reality for a little while when irrational fear had taken over, but she had enough faculties left to discern that her son was still in danger.
One kidnapper lay dead, but one had escaped. Would he try again?
Chapter Thirteen
Royce blinked against the bright fluorescent lights as he entered the hospital, his arm around Sarah and hers around her son. With the police escort, he was hardly necessary. And there were a million other things he needed to do.
Like find Bart’s killer before he killed again. Like find the missing kidnapper before he tried again.
But Royce couldn’t leave them. Mother and child had both become too important to him.
They checked in quickly at the desk, then found chairs in the crowded waiting room. Jeremy clung to his mother’s side, avoiding Royce’s gaze. Finally, the boy lifted his chin with a flash of Sarah’s pride and faced Royce.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I was wrong. I know that you didn’t show me that stuff so I’d run off on my own…”
“How’d you pull it off, Jeremy?”
He shrugged his thin shoulders. “I snuck out the window, using your climbing rope. Got over the wall with it, too. That’s where I hadn’t planned too far ahead. Once I got out, I didn’t know where the bus stop was that would take me back to the company. A car stopped while I was waiting, and some big guy grabbed me. I fought. I tried to, really, but he had a gun, Royce.”
His voice broke with sobs, and he buried his young face in his mother’s lap. She patted his back with trembling hands.
Royce found himself reaching, touching the golden-blond hair. “It’s okay, kid. You got away from him, Jeremy. You did good!”
The boy lifted his head, his tear-washed eyes hopeful.
Royce smiled, then a flurry of activity by the doors drew his attention. He lifted his hand toward his holster until he identified the cause of the commotion. His father had rushed past the police officers.
“Royce!” The old man’s breath caught as he stopped by their chairs. “You’re alive. Thank God. I tried to get to the company, but the police were bringing out a body bag. Someone had been shot…”
“I’m fine.”
Donald Graham’s gaze encompassed Sarah and Jeremy, too. “You’re all okay. That’s good! That’s good!” He stepped back, nearly stumbling.
Royce surged to his feet and caught the old man’s arm. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, fine…I’ll go back home now. I just had to check…”
Sarah sighed. “Why don’t you two get some coffee? I could use a cup, and Jeremy would like something I’m sure.”
Royce glanced at his watch. “The cafeteria won’t open for a while—”
“The vending machine’s just around the corner.” Sarah pointed with her finger, and with the determined glare in her gray eyes. She wanted him to reach out to his father.
Could he? “You want a cup of coffee?” he asked the older man.
Donald nodded. “Yes.” He followed Royce to the machines. While they waited for the trickle of coffee to fill the paper cup, he opened his mouth but didn’t speak.
“What is it?” Royce asked.
“I let you down.”
Royce cocked his head, unable to believe what he’d heard. “You let me down?”
“I never encouraged you to pursue what you loved. I should have supported your fascination with law enforcement—”
“But you wanted me to go into the company with you. The company’s been the only thing you’ve ever loved. And you hated that I didn’t love it, too. That I had no interest in it.”
Donald chuckled. “You used to. When you were a little boy, you promised you’d help me run it someday.” He sighed, and more wrinkles creased his face. “And I tried to hold you to that promise, not realizing you only said that then because you wanted some of my time. And I gave it all to the business. Buying trips to foreign countries and long hours at the office kept me away from you. I’m sorry, Royce.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
The man’s broad shoulders shrugged and a ragged breath sighed through his thin lips. “I saw that body bag, and I realized why I’ve been pushing you away. My greatest fear…is to lose you. But then I realized that I already had by not supporting you and this FBI business.”
A grin quirked Royce’s lips. “The FBI a business? Only you would see it that way.”
The old man chuckled. “Yes, well, but I meant the business of finding children, like you found the boy.”
“The boy found me.”
“You knew where he was. You’ll figure all of this nasty business out, but I hope you figure out the personal stuff, too.”
Royce’s fingers slipped from the paper cup when he reached for the coffee. “What personal stuff?”
“That they love you. That woman and that boy. That you need them. That you love them, too.”
“No!”
“Royce, don’t be a fool like me. Embrace those you love. Don’t chase them away by pretending you don’t need them.”
Royce glanced over his shoulder at the wrinkles of age and unhappiness l
ining his father’s face. “You haven’t chased me away, Father. I’m here.”
“But you won’t always be. You can’t stay. Someone will call, and you’ll be off again…to some jungle, some desert.”
Royce shook his head. “No, I can’t stay. And that’s why I can’t need Sarah and Jeremy, why I can never be part of their lives.”
“Royce…”
“No, Father. I gave so much to the job. I don’t have anything left to give anyone else. Sarah and Jeremy deserve more than I can give them.”
“You can—”
“No, there’s nothing left.” He glanced past his father to where Sarah hovered in the doorway.
Her smoky eyes wide in her pale face, she backed away. “They’ve called Jeremy back. He wants you to go with him, Royce. But I’ll tell him he has to make do with me.”
He followed her mad dash across the crowded waiting room, catching her arm before she reached the checkin desk. “Sarah, I’ll go back with him.”
Her shoulders sagged, he couldn’t tell with relief or disappointment. What had she expected from him? More. More than he could give. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for, Royce.” She drew in a quick breath, then tilted up her chin. “And you’re not the only one.”
“What?” Had she guessed he loved her? That all that scared him more than loving her was the fear of disappointing her?
“I don’t have anything left to give either. Jeremy is the only one I trust to love.”
His heartbeat slowed, dragging. “So where does that leave us?”
“Jeremy and I need to go home to Winter Falls, Royce.”
His heart stopped beating entirely. “I know you intended to after the service…”
“I want to attend Bart’s service, but I can’t…not knowing that one of them… I need to leave right away.”
“It’s not a good idea, Sarah. You’re both safer here than there.”
“No.” She shook her head, and he glimpsed the shimmer of tears in her smoky eyes. “Not now.”
“Jeremy won’t try to get past the guards again. Nobody can hurt him here.”
“I’ll hire guards in Winter Falls. I’ll get armed guards to bring us back across on the ferry. The threat is here, and I need to leave. You accomplished what you wanted. You fulfilled your promise to Bart.”
How long ago had she ceased to be a promise to a dying man and become Royce’s whole purpose? Seemed like always. “But I broke my promise to you, Sarah.”
She shook her head, swirling red hair around her squared shoulders. “You did better than most. Nobody can keep promises made to me. I don’t expect them to anymore.”
Royce’s heart ached. “But you should, Sarah. You deserve promises.”
“Royce!” Jeremy called out from behind the desk. A quaver of panic shook the boy’s voice.
Sarah’s face flushed. “You don’t need to do this, Royce. I can go back with him. He thinks he needs a guy back with him, but…”
He needs a father. The thought slammed into Royce, tightening all his muscles. Sarah needed a husband. If he wasn’t willing to make those kinds of promises, he needed to let her go. “I’ll go back with him…”
She nodded, her teeth biting into her bottom lip. “Thank you.”
Thank him for what? He couldn’t be what she needed, but he could protect her. He could track down Bart’s killer and the person who threatened her son.
SARAH STARED after them long after Royce and Jeremy disappeared into the emergency room. She really should have gone back with Jeremy, his burgeoning male pride be damned. Tears burned her eyes. Male pride.
Was that Royce’s problem? Pride? Or fear?
And wasn’t she the pot calling the kettle black? Pride and fear affected every move she made. Even now…
The scent of ground chicory and coffee beans drifted to her nose as a wrinkled hand waved a cup of coffee before her. “Do you take it black, Mrs. Hutchins?”
“Sarah, please, Mr. Graham.” Before he could slosh the hot brew over the paper rim, she grasped the cup in her hands, but her empty stomach roiled at the bitter scent.
“Then call me Donald.” He barked out a rusty-sounding laugh. “Aren’t I damn cordial all of a sudden, huh?”
She forced a smile. “You opened your home to my son and me—you’ve gone beyond cordial.”
“I did that for the boy. My boy. He asked me.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He grinned. “Good. You’re a smart girl. I saw that right off. You can figure him out, find out how to reach him before he winds up dead somewhere. He needs you and your son.”
Pain and regret rolled over her pride and fear. “I heard you say that before…to Royce. He didn’t agree.”
“He’s lying to himself. Make him tell the truth.”
Sarah sighed, weary of the old man’s well-meaning arguments. “Thank you for the coffee. I need to walk. If they need me for anything, have them page me, please.”
Moments later she sagged against the wall of the elevator, grateful he hadn’t tried to stop her. “What floor?” a nurse asked her.
“Um…I don’t know. Pedes, please.” Although she’d stopped nursing when Robert Hutchins had died, she volunteered regularly at the hospital a half-hour drive from Winter Falls. Visiting the children’s ward always granted her a bittersweet peace.
The seventh-floor button lit up. “Thank you.” She hoped she’d find some peace this time.
“Visiting?”
Regrouping was more like it. “Um…yes, my cousin’s daughter.” She didn’t even know the girl’s name. How self-centered had she become? “McCarthy’s her last name.”
“Little Maggie, she’s a sweetie.”
When the elevator stopped on seven, coffee sloshed over the rim of the cup Sarah had forgotten she held, but she barely felt the splash of hot liquid. Nose wrinkled in distaste, she sipped at the cup. Then the doors opened, and the nurse pointed her toward the end of the hall.
“Maggie’s room is the last on that wing. She should have been home already, but she’s so weak. Her mother’s been frantic, but I think she left for a little while. I’m sure Maggie would appreciate a familiar face.”
But Sarah was a stranger. Instead of explaining what she could hardly understand herself, Sarah followed the woman’s directions to the last door before the exit stairs. Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting a glow across the sleeping face of a small girl. She was probably not much younger than Jeremy, but in stature, she appeared miniature. Delicate features, pale complexion, the exact antithesis of Sarah’s healthy son.
Sarah hovered in the doorway, her heart constricting. Sick children affected her to such an extent. What must Royce feel even now over those children he hadn’t been able to save? For a person who couldn’t shut off his emotions, his job would have been suicide. No wonder he thought he had nothing left.
But he did. He’d reassured her son in so many ways. He’d empowered him. Then he’d forgiven him. He’d make a wonderful father. No, she wasn’t ready to give up on Royce Graham.
She pitched the coffee into a trashcan and reached for the girl’s chart. After taking a quick glance around, she opened the binder and flipped through all the records. Poor little girl. If she were ever to have any semblance of a normal life, she’d need a transplant, although certain criteria made her a risky candidate.
Sarah sighed and pressed a hand against her heart.
“Mom?” called out a weak voice from the bed.
“No.” Sarah moved into the room, stepping into the ribbons of sunlight. “Hi, Maggie. My name’s Sarah.”
“Are you a nurse?”
“Well, yes…”
“Are you here to stick me again?”
Sarah smiled although tears threatened. The little girl’s arms bore bruises and needle marks. “No, sweetheart.”
“I really hate needles.”
“My son does, too.” She hope
d Jeremy didn’t have to have blood drawn for any reason because she doubted Royce could calm his fears over that. The kidnapper sure hadn’t been able to.
“Is he sick?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, he’s very healthy.”
“You’re pretty…” The girl’s weak voice trailed off as a sleepy smile stole across her rosebud lips. Then she held out her hand.
Sarah enveloped the delicate fingers in her own, surprised by the strength in them as they curled around hers. “You’re the real beauty.”
Stiletto heels tapped against the linoleum, signaling little Maggie’s mother’s arrival. “Is she asleep?” the usually brash voice dropped to a whisper.
Sarah nodded. “She’s so sweet.”
Pamela blinked heavily mascaraed lashes, trying to hide the tears glistening in her dark eyes. “Yeah, she’s a doll. What you doin’ here? Slumming?”
“My son’s in the emergency room.”
“Alone?” Pamela gasped.
Sarah shook her head. “No, with Royce.”
“Royce.” Pamela licked her lips. “Damn fine man. Yum. They’re okay, right? You wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.”
From the first Sarah had recognized Pamela’s fierce motherly love for her child. What lengths would this woman go to in order to save her child from this dismal life of hospitals and needles and pain?
JEREMY THUMPED his heels against the edge of the examining table, the sound echoing in Royce’s aching head. “You sure you don’t want your mom?” he asked again as they waited for the overworked ER resident.
The golden head nodded. “Yeah. She’ll fuss. She started on me right away. Show them your bracelet, tell them where he got you with the needle, make them run this test, that test. She told the checkin nurse, too.”
The kid shifted, his paper gown sliding off his bony shoulder. A purplish bruise mottled his pale skin.
“Jeremy! He hurt you!” Royce’s gut twisted with pain and anger.
The boy nodded, his bright eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t know if that’s from when he grabbed me or when I got away…or when I slipped climbing up the ladder on the side of the warehouse.”