Wings Like Eagles

by Tracie Peterson

  There was silence for several seconds before Christy responded. “I guess I am. Do you suppose Debbie could come over and put together this crib? Sarah’s due to come home from the hospital tomorrow, and if it’s left to me, I’ll still be trying to find the double brace bolts when the sun rises again.”

  Curt smiled to himself. “Debbie’s busy. Something about an important dinner date with her real fiancé.”

  “Pity. I really would have liked to talk over several things with her.”

  “Oh? And just what kind of things did you have in mind?”

  “Why, double brace bolts, of course,” Christy laughed.

  “Of course.” Curt waited, saying nothing more.

  “You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?” Christy finally muttered.

  “Nope.” Curt’s simple reply filled her ears.

  “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Would you come over and help me put this crib together?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Curt said in a formal tone that left Christy smiling. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks. You know the way over, and I’ll do like that motel chain and leave the downstairs light on for you. I’m afraid I shall be upstairs sorting through bags of important metallic discs and little nut things and—”

  “Just leave them in their little sacks and wait for me,” Curt quickly interrupted. “I’ll be right there.”

  Christy didn’t have long to wait. As Curt’s sports car roared into the drive, Christy wondered whether a DEA agent could get speeding tickets fixed. Maybe if the police stopped him, Curt would just tell them he was on a case.

  Waiting to open the door until he knocked, Christy suddenly felt self-conscious. Things had changed between her and Curt, and while she didn’t feel the same sense of betrayal that she once had, her feelings frightened her.

  Curt knocked and without even waiting to look as though she was doing something other than standing with her hand on the doorknob, Christy opened the door in welcome.

  “Hello,” Christy said rather shyly.

  “Hello.” His voice was soft and warm, and Christy immediately felt her heart beat faster. Curt came into the house, and when Christy did nothing but stand there, he asked, “So where’s the nursery?”

  “At the head of the stairs,” she announced and led the way.

  Opening the door opposite her bedroom, she went to where the instructions for the crib lay, with four bags of bolts, nuts, and other pieces that she couldn’t name. Picking them up, she thrust them into Curt’s hands.

  “I defy you to find the double brace bolts,” she said with as much reserve as she could.

  Curt laughed, glanced for a moment at the instructions, then at the bag, and finally held up the smallest of the four. “These, my dear Christy, are double brace bolts.”

  Christy looked at the drawing on the instruction page, then back to the bag, and returned her gaze to Curt’s amused face. “Dumb luck,” she replied and went in the direction of the door. “You create the crib. I’ll go get us some refreshments.”

  “You sure you can cook?” Curt teased.

  Christy popped her head back around the door. “You mean to tell me that you plan to spend the rest of your life with me, and you still don’t believe I can cook?” She hadn’t really meant to refer to his marriage proposal, but the words spilled out before she could check them.

  Curt’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he dropped the bags of bolts and instructions and came to the doorway. “I figured it wasn’t as important as other things I already knew you were good at.”

  “Such as?”

  “I already know that you can sew like a dream,” he smiled. “And you can handle a caterer with the greatest of ease, and you wear expensive clothes better than anyone I know.”

  Christy feigned a look of disgust. “You’re hopeless. You know nothing about me except for what your DEA dossier tells you.” She started to walk away, but Curt quickly pulled her back.

  “My files didn’t tell me what a great kisser you are,” he said and lowered his lips quickly to hers before she could protest.

  Christy melted against him and sighed. She wanted to forget all her fears. She wanted to give in and tell Curt that she would marry him.

  Curt pulled away, and Christy opened her eyes to find him staring down thoughtfully at her expression. “I can always hire a cook.”

  Christy smiled and pushed him away playfully. “And I can hire a crib builder, and I will if you don’t get back to work.”

  The evening passed in a state of near perfection, as far as Christy was concerned. Curt continued to tease and joke about her kitchen skills, but when he tried her almond cheesecake, he stopped laughing and had seconds.

  They worked well together, putting not only the crib into sturdy order, but the dressing table, baby swing, and bassinet, as well. Curt finally noticed that it was nearly eleven o’clock and held up his hands to halt their operation.

  “Enough for tonight. What we haven’t finished, we can do tomorrow after we bring her home.”

  Christy yawned and agreed, making her way to the door.

  Arm in arm, they walked down the staircase, enjoying the quiet moment together. Curt started to kiss Christy, when the telephone rang.

  Christy made her way to the sitting room to pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Christy, it’s Grant.” The color drained from Christy’s face, and she hoped that Curt wouldn’t pick up on her sudden trembling. She turned away, praying that Curt would just ignore her and think the call was something private, which of course it was.

  “Yes,” she finally managed. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do you have my money?”

  “I think so,” she answered carefully.

  “Sarah is being released tomorrow, you know. I have the lawyer’s papers right here in front of me, and I’ll be happy to sign them, but not before I see the money. I’ll come over in the morning and—”

  “No!” Christy exclaimed a bit more harshly than she’d intended. “I mean, that wouldn’t work for me.”

  “Then where?” Grant questioned irritably.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered softly. “Why don’t you call me in the morning?”

  “All right, but don’t think about pulling anything stupid, or I’ll take Sarah.”

  “Of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good-bye.” Christy replaced the phone with trembling hands. She bolstered her courage and turned to face Curt, who was admiring a Victorian vase.

  “Planning another wedding dress?” Curt questioned without looking up from the ornate rosebud vase.

  “Something like that,” Christy replied. “It’s late, Curt. I think you’d better go.” The playfulness was gone from her voice.

  “I was thinking the same thing.” He replaced the vase on the Queen Anne table and walked to the door with Christy close behind him.

  Pausing, Curt surprised Christy by turning to take her in his arms. Christy closed her eyes, anticipating a kiss, but Curt did nothing until she opened her eyes. Then just as suddenly as he’d held her, he released her and walked out the door.

  Christy followed him outside and stood at the top of the porch stairs. At the bottom step, with something between sorrow and anger in his eyes, Curt spoke. “Sooner or later,” he said stiffly, “you’re going to learn to trust me. I’m not a fool, Christy. People don’t call at this hour of the night to arrange for a wedding dress.” With that, he walked to his car and drove away, leaving Christy feeling as though she were a small child who had just received a reprimand.

  Aching to explain, Christy sighed deeply and went back inside. Dear God, she prayed silently, locking the door and turning off the downstairs lights, how can I tell him? How can I allow Curt to get in the middle of this thing?

  After a restless night, Christy awoke to the telephone ringing. Her house might as well be Grand Central Station for all the endless interruptions. Certain that it would be Grant, Christy was
stunned when one of the nurses she’d become well-acquainted with at the hospital spoke from the other end.

  “Christy, I just wanted to call and let you know that Sarah’s father picked her up a few minutes ago.”

  Christy felt as though she was going to be ill. Had she truly heard the woman correctly? “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I was so surprised, but he had all the correct identification. I figured he must have changed his mind about raising her. I just wanted to call and make sure you were all right. I know how much you were looking forward to taking Sarah home.”

  “Thanks,” Christy whispered, trying to wipe away tears and sleep from her eyes. She hung up the phone without waiting for the woman to say anything more. Grant had Sarah! Now the real waiting game would begin.

  Christy flew into action. She got dressed as fast as she could and hurriedly put her makeup on before rushing downstairs to get her bankbook. She had to get Grant’s money before he called and expected the exchange. She was nearly out the door when Curt appeared.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked casually, then continued, “Of course you are. Sarah’s coming home today. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Christy said rather abruptly.

  “You aren’t going to punish me because I forced your hand last night, are you?”

  Christy felt her breath quicken. If she didn’t hurry and get to the bank, Grant might call while she was out, and she would miss knowing where they were to meet. “I’m not upset with you!”

  “You sound upset,” Curt replied softly. “What’s wrong, Christy?”

  Christy wanted so badly to break down and tell Curt everything. But fear won out, and she shook her head.

  “I have to go somewhere, and I need to do it quickly. I can’t pick up Sarah until later,” she lied, while telling herself it wasn’t a lie because she didn’t know when Grant would allow her to exchange Sarah for the money.

  “I could drive you,” Curt insisted.

  “No, I—” The phone rang and broke Christy’s train of thought as she jumped. Hurrying back into the house, she picked up the phone.

  “Do you have it?” Grant questioned.

  “Yes,” she said, “at least I will. I have to stop by the bank.” She didn’t realize until she felt Curt’s hands on her shoulders that he had followed her into the house.

  “I’ll expect you at ten,” Grant told her and gave her instruc- tions to a nearby shopping mall.

  “I understand,” Christy replied and hung the phone up. Curt’s hands felt like heavy weights. Weights of truth and trust that threatened to unnerve her reasoning.

  Relying on old modeling skills, Christy turned with a smile fixed on her face. “I really have to go, Curt. I’ll see you later and then maybe you can help me get Sarah.” Her hands were shaking, so she held them together tightly, hoping that Curt wouldn’t notice.

  “All right, Christy. I’ll come back later.”

  Christy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and waited until Curt’s car was well down the road before heading out to her own car. Then, just as she started to back up, a delivery truck pulled up to the end of her driveway and blocked her exit.

  “You Ms. Connors?” the deliveryman questioned.

  “Yes,” Christy replied, getting out of the car. “Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Can I help you?”

  “I have a delivery here for you. Just sign on the line,” he said, handing her a small computerized tablet and marking pen.

  Christy signed and handed the machine back to the man, shaking her head. “I don’t remember any shipment being due in. Can you tell me what it is?”

  The man punched something into the computer. “Looks like material from Ireland.”

  “But that should have been shipped to New York, not here,” Christy protested. “I have a warehouse waiting for this.”

  “I can’t help that, ma’am. I have to leave it here with you. Just show me where.”

  Christy threw up her hands in exasperation. “All right,” she said, fumbling for her house key. “Bring it inside, but please hurry.”

  twenty

  Christy barely made it to the designated place by the appointed time. She glanced nervously up and down the corridor of the busy shopping mall. Where was Grant? It only took a moment before he appeared, and when he did, Christy’s chest constricted in fear. Sarah was not with him.

  “Did you get my money?” he questioned.

  “Yes, but where’s Sarah?”

  “She’s safe. For now that’s all you need to know.” Grant casually toyed with his sunglasses.

  “That’s not good enough,” Christy protested and hugged the briefcase of money close. “You can’t have this money without giving me Sarah and the paperwork that gives her to me legally.”

  Grant considered his sister-in-law for a moment, then stuffed the sunglasses into his pocket and took hold of Christy’s upper arm.

  “You will listen to me and do just as I tell you; otherwise, you will never see Sarah.”

  Christy cringed at Grant’s touch and words, but nevertheless let him lead her to a small bench.

  “What do you want? I brought the money, and I’ve already paid for all of the hospital and funeral expenses,” Christy said in an exasperated whisper.

  “You have a shipment that I need,” Grant began to explain. “I don’t know what all Candy told you, but if I knew my little wife the way I think I did, then I’m certain she told you everything about me. Is that true?”

  Christy nodded. “I know about the drugs, if that’s what you mean.”

  Grant’s face tightened uncomfortably for a moment. “That’s ex-actly what I mean.” He glanced around as if expecting someone to be watching them. Grant returned his stare to Christy’s nervous face. “You haven’t told anyone else about me, have you?”

  Christy knew that Sarah’s safety would depend on her answer. She could feel her palms grow damp with sweat. Slowly, with as much confidence as she could muster, Christy faced Grant. “Who would I tell? Erik? Like he isn’t devastated enough with losing Candy. They were quite close, you know. This won’t be something he gets over quickly. I couldn’t burden him with the fact that you’re the local drug czar.”

  Grant laughed softly, and he put his arm around Christy as though they were lovers, not mortal enemies. When Christy tried to pull away, Grant pressed his hand painfully against her shoulder. “Stay put and listen. I don’t want this to appear to anyone else as anything less than an intimate moment.”

  Christy settled down. This is for Sarah, she reminded herself.

  “Good,” he murmured against her ear. “Now listen carefully. Have you received a shipment that you weren’t expecting?”

  Christy nodded, unable to speak. Her throat felt as though it were about to swell shut. She fought to control her emotions, but fear was quickly edging out all other thoughts and feelings.

  Grant was running his hand down her arm in a much-too-familiar manner. “The shipment was intended for your warehouse in New York, correct?” Again, Christy nodded. “That’s what I thought. Somewhere along the way, this particular crate was accidently rerouted to you here. It contains a great deal of high-grade cocaine, and it belongs to me.”

  Christy felt as though she couldn’t breathe. A priceless shipment of cocaine was sitting in her storeroom, a DEA agent was looking at every turn for some way he could lay his hand on the killer of his parents, and a tiny helpless infant was the only bargaining chip offered.

  “I want my goods, Christy. Until I get them, you can’t have Sarah.”

  “I certainly don’t want your drugs. Come get them and bring me Sarah!” Christy exclaimed.

  “No, you could easily arrange for someone to be there. You go home and get the stuff loaded into your car. I’ll call you just before we’re to meet, and if you dare to try and cross me up, you’ll never see Sarah again. Understand?”

  Christy felt angrier than she’d ever been, but sh
e clenched her jaw tightly and nodded.

  “Good, now hand over the money and—”

  “Oh, no,” Christy said, clutching the case closer. “You’ll get the money and the drugs when I get my niece safely and legally delivered. You’d better make sure those papers are in order,” Christy added and got to her feet before Grant could protest. “Because if they aren’t, I’ll torch your shipment bit by bit, until I get what I want.”

  Grant looked stunned, and Christy felt better just knowing she had something of importance to hold over his head.

  “And I want you out of my business affairs,” she snapped, not caring who heard her in the passing mall traffic. “You know what I mean, and I’ll expect results immediately.” She turned to leave, but Grant caught her arm and turned her back around.

  “You may think you’re a brave little girl, Christy, but I’m the one with the real power. Power, money, and enough dangerous friends that you could be killed before you ever knew what happened.”

  Christy nodded. “I know all of that Grant, and I’m not at all brave,” she admitted. “I do, however, love Sarah, and I want to make a good life for her. You can’t possibly hate her so much that you don’t care where she ends up or with whom, do you?”

  Grant shrugged. “It’s immaterial to me. I never wanted a child, and I told Candy that. Now I’m telling you. It really doesn’t matter if she ends up with you or with someone else. I just want my shipment and money. Be a good girl and do what I say, and I’ll be cooperative and let you have Sarah. Otherwise…” He let the word trail into oblivion, but Christy fully understood his meaning.

  The drive home seemed to take forever, but once there, Christy quickly raced through the house to the storeroom, never taking time to close the front door.

  She eyed the crate suspiciously, then took a crowbar to it and pried off the lid. The first few layers were devoted to packing materials and Irish lace. Beneath that, however, were neatly placed rows of brown paper-wrapped packages the size of bricks. Christy picked one up and tore the paper away to reveal her worst fears. Slamming the package back in the crate, Christy steadied herself against a nearby chair. What was she going to do? This was even worse than giving Grant the money, because now he was making her a part of his drug trafficking.