“I’ll try. I just wish I could be more like you. You always seem so calm.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Iz. But it has taken years of practice. I almost fainted the first time I had to give CPR. And growing up, I hated the sight of blood.”
“Seriously? How did you end up becoming a paramedic?”
The event that dictated the future course of her life flashed before her eyes. The shattered glass. The scent of burning rubber. The wail of sirens. The trail of blood. She shook off the memory. She still thought about her father’s death almost every day, but she hadn’t talked about it in years. Hadn’t dreamt about it for even longer than that.
“It’s a long story. Maybe we can talk about it later.”
“Okay.” Isobel winced as another contraction pulled her into its grip. “Help me, please. I feel like my insides are being squeezed by an iron grip.”
Abby shifted into high gear. “Try not to fight it. Roll with the pain. You have to let the contractions do their job.”
“I’m trying. But it’s hard.”
Abby reached over and took Isobel’s hand. “You’re doing great. But remember, these things come in waves. Once one crests, you need to start preparing for the next one, okay?”
Isobel nodded.
“Is there anything we can do to make her more comfortable?” Cal asked.
Abby shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
“Okay, then. If you don’t need me, I’m going to check out that vent on the wall. There’s something not quite right about this whole setup. The robbers sure seem to be taking their time clearing the money out of the vault. I’m going to try to crawl through to the room next door and see if I can find out anything about their plan. Better yet, I might find a way for us to get out of here before Max and Martina come back.”
“That would be great, Cal,” she said distractedly. “Isobel seems to be entering the transitional stage of her labor. It won’t be long before she needs to push.” She met Cal’s eye, silently transmitting a somber message: the baby might well be born in the break room of the bank, whether any of them liked it or not.
* * *
Cal crouched down on the floor and began loosening the screws on the wall vent. “Just tug on my feet if you need me,” he called over to Abby.
“Sounds good,” Abby said. She seemed so focused on helping Isobel through her next contraction that he could have told her he was heading to Starbucks for coffee and she probably wouldn’t have noticed or cared.
Using a short Phillips-head screwdriver he had found in a drawer, he removed the four screws holding the vent cover in place. Once the last one was loosened, he set the metal piece onto the floor and tried to estimate the size of the opening. Three feet by two feet? Maybe a bit larger. It wasn’t huge, but there was room enough for him to slither through if he pressed his stomach flat against the bottom and tried not to think about being squashed like a pancake. Dust swirled through the air as he inched forward, a shaft of light guiding him toward the opening on the opposite wall.
He flexed his shoulders to keep them from cramping up and let his mind drift back to his first few weeks on the job as sheriff of Dagger Lake. He had barely finished arranging his desk when the mayor’s secretary stuck her head into his office to tell him about Abby. “Cute, sweet and perfect in all ways.” That had been the first effort in what turned out to be a determined campaign to set the two of them up. And there were certain third parties—Abby’s brother, for one—who hadn’t been willing to take no for an answer.
After months of resisting, he had finally given in and asked Abby out to dinner. But when she didn’t show up, he was glad. As lovely as Abby was, he wasn’t ready to embark on a new relationship, especially not with someone who reminded him so much of his ex-wife. His marriage had not been a particularly successful one, but the last few years had been especially rough. He had taken it hard when Shannon was killed, and, even now, three years after the shooting, he was still untangling all the complicated emotions swirling in his mind.
The vent narrowed slightly as he edged the last few inches toward the opening. The slats on the wall were partially open, and he used his fingers to pry them up the rest of the way.
It was hard to tell from his reduced perspective, but the room seemed to have the same basic layout, beige carpet and white walls as the break room. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down, and a tingle of alarm wound down his spine. This wasn’t good. Stacks of cellophane-wrapped packages were spread across the floor. He recognized their putty-like shape as well as the faint aroma of tar. C-4. A plastic explosive. That was powerful stuff. And there was a lot of it. Way more than it would take to blow up a safe. It was all over the room, not just around the vault. He leaned in closer for a better view.
As his brain registered what his eyes were seeing, his pulse began pounding in his head. Dread washed across his senses as he realized that everything he thought he knew about the robbery was incorrect. He had assumed that Max, Martina and Tomas were a trio of robbers intent on breaking into the vault. That was wrong. He’d reckoned that when push came to shove, it would be two against one. Even that was wrong.
A new set of feet stood in that far corner of the room. A pair of brown wing-tip shoes. A fourth criminal.
But judging by his imperious tone, he was the one calling the shots.
And even worse.
At the man’s feet was a car seat. Just the right size for an infant. And next to the base was a stack of baby clothes and a package of diapers.
It was so much more sinister than he had imagined.
This wasn’t a bank robbery. It was a kidnapping.
And there was enough C-4 in the room to blow up the entire building.
He took a deep breath. It would take time to process this new information. But his brain flashed into overdrive as he struggled to make sense of it all. There had been countless indications that this was more than a run-of-the-mill robbery. Realization dawned. Maybe the injured robber had medical training. Which, in turn, explained why Abby was still alive. With Tomas out of commission, they needed to keep a paramedic at the ready.
At least until the baby was born.
And just like that, his optimism evaporated. There was a cruel tone to the new man’s voice, a calculating edge that spoke of a cold-blooded killer.
A killer who would blow up the bank with all the hostages inside. And with the amount of C-4 the robbers had stockpiled, any evidence would be incinerated.
But who would risk so much to kidnap a baby? Sure, there were plenty of people out there who wanted children. But what kind of person would commit a crime of this complexity to abduct a newborn? The scheme was more elaborate than anything he had come across in all his years of police work. The bank’s isolated location made it the perfect place to stage a kidnapping, with the added bonus of confiscating the cash on hand. The person behind such a devious plan had to be a relative or family member. It was the only thing that made any sense.
He scooted a few inches forward, hoping to glean something from the men’s conversation that would help him understand the nature of their plan.
The blaring jingle of a cell phone set his heart racing. Leaning in, he heard the new man answer. “Ricky.”
Now he had a name.
Slowly and carefully, he pushed away from the grate. He needed to get back to the room to talk to Isobel. To find out who Ricky was. To ask Abby to slow down the labor. Because, if he was right, the moment Isobel’s son entered the world, the kidnappers would snatch him from his mother’s arms and blow up the building with the hostages inside.
But as he shoved his arms forward to propel himself back, his pant pocket snagged on the seam of the vent. He jiggled his body to release the catch. Sweat beaded on his brow as the metal casing gave an ominous creak. Within the narrow confines of the vent, the noise echoed with a deafening groan. His heart j
ackknifed in his chest. Had the men in the other room heard? Should he continue to shift backward in case they barged into the break room to investigate? No. He could just make out the muffled sounds of hushed conversation.
“It came from over here.” The voice sounded like Max.
His body froze. Had they found him? Had he just jeopardized Abby and Isobel through his careless haste? A cold band of unease wrapped around his body. He closed his eyes and then opened them to peer through the slats. A pair of black Converse sneakers blocked his view.
“Probably just a rat in the air ducts.” Martina’s strident voice carried clear. “This building is so decrepit we’re doing it a favor by blowing it up.”
He held his breath. A few seconds later, Max walked away from the vent. That was way too close. And they were very nearly out of time. He needed to talk to Abby now. With sweaty palms, he resumed his exit. With a few backward thrusts, he slid out of the vent. His heart was racing, but he smoothed his face into a bland expression as he walked across the room. He needed answers, but not at the risk of causing Isobel any unnecessary distress. She would have to be told the truth eventually, but not yet.
He waited until Isobel relaxed from her latest contraction before stepping closer to the couch. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“Pretty good.” Isobel’s smile was strained.
“Quick random question. Is the baby’s dad in the picture, or are you planning to raise your son on your own?”
Abby shot him a look. “Maybe now’s not the best time for this kind of conversation.”
“No. It’s okay, Abby.” Isobel’s upper lip trembled. “My husband doesn’t know about the baby, Cal. I ran away when I found out that I was pregnant.” A large teardrop ran down her face. “It’s not a story with a happy ending.”
A protective surge rushed through his gut. He had seen that same terror-filled expression too many times in his line of work. It was worn by women who had suffered abuse and live in fear for their lives. Like so many others, Isobel had been hurt in the past, her present was dismal and her future looked fatal. He reached across the sofa and took hold of her hand. “I understand. I won’t ask any more questions. But can you at least tell me your husband’s name?” He held his breath, though he knew the answer before she replied.
“Ricky,” she whispered through a veil of tears.
FOUR
Cal’s eyes had that hundred-mile look of a man who had no idea what to do next. Clearly, he had seen something in the room next door and, judging by the shadow darkening his countenance, it wasn’t good.
What had he witnessed or heard that was making him so agitated? Abby wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. She closed her eyes to gather her thoughts. When she opened them, Cal was standing next to her with his back to the couch.
“We have a problem,” he whispered.
“What?” she breathed back.
He took a step away from the sofa and beckoned her to follow. “I saw someone new in the room next door, and there’s a good chance it was Isobel’s husband, Ricky. Is there anything you can do to delay the baby’s birth?”
She shook her head. “At this point, that would be impossible. What’s going on?”
A muscle tensed in Cal’s jaw. “It’s starting to look as if Isobel’s husband is the mastermind of this whole scheme. I don’t know how long he’s been here at the bank. But he has a car seat and some clothes and diapers, so it’s safe to assume that he’s aiming to leave with more than just cash. I suspect he’s planning to make a grab for the kid.”
“What about Isobel? Do you think he wants to abduct her, as well?”
“What are you two talking about?” Isobel’s anxious voice interrupted their hushed conversation. “Is everything all right? Is something wrong with the baby?”
Abby’s brain froze, and she was unable to choke out even a straightforward reply. “Your little boy is fine, Iz. Just give me a minute to talk to Cal.” She turned and followed Cal to the corner of the room.
He leaned his head close to hers, unease coursing across his countenance. “How long do we have until the baby is born? Twenty minutes? A half hour?”
“It could be as long as that, but it’s hard to say.”
“Okay. But as soon as Isobel gives birth, we’re going to need to get out of here fast. Right now, Max and Martina are laying explosives to blow up the bank. We need to stop them. But at this point, I’m out of ideas.”
She fought against the hopelessness threatening to overtake her. “We’ll think of something, Cal. We’ve got to save Isobel and the baby.” But when she turned her head, her heart jumped in her chest. A moment earlier, her patient had been fine. But now she appeared to be in the throes of a full-on panic attack. Her eyes were huge against her face, and her breathing was quick and shallow.
“I can’t do this, Abby. I thought that I was ready, but I’m not. I can’t have my baby in a bank. It’s not sanitary. What if he gets a disease? What if he catches a cold? I have the cutest little outfit packed in my overnight bag for him. A set of footie pajamas with a pointy, striped hood in supersoft cotton that won’t irritate his skin. I was going to bring it to the hospital for him to wear home. But now I don’t have anything. He’ll be naked and shivering, and I don’t even have a diaper or an undershirt to keep him warm.”
She could understand what Isobel was feeling. It was natural to focus on the minor details even as the world seemed to be falling apart.
“It’s going to be okay, Iz. Babies are born every day under less-than-perfect conditions. Just think of the story your little guy will be able to tell the other kids when he gets older. That he was born in a bank, during a robbery, and that his mom was courageous and brave.”
“I don’t know Abby. I don’t feel courageous or brave. I feel scared.”
“We’re all scared, Iz. But we have to have faith. Hasn’t God taken care of us so far?”
Isobel sniffled and then nodded her head. “He has. And I’m grateful I don’t have to go through this alone. I couldn’t ask for a better support team than you and Cal. But everything is happening so fast that I can’t even process it. What am I going to wrap the baby in once he’s born? He’ll be so tiny and cold.”
Abby had been thinking the same thing. Both the infant and Isobel would require extra warmth after the trauma of birth. She looked at Cal. He was obviously agitated, as evidenced by his relentless pacing across the floor. She could feel his adrenaline mixing with her own rising panic.
And then she remembered something she had noticed while she first looked around the room. In one of the drawers next to the sink were oversize dish towels, the right size for swaddling a newborn. They weren’t perfect, but they’d do in a pinch.
“Hey, Cal,” she called out. “Would you mind grabbing a few of those dish towels in the drawer?”
“On it.” Cal was halfway across the room when Isobel’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Wait. I know!” She pointed toward the ceiling. “There are a bunch of blankets upstairs in the attic.”
Cal turned his head, his eyes burning with excitement. “This place has an attic?”
Abby looked up, a gasp catching in her throat. There it was, plain as day when you knew what to look for—a wooden panel set flush with the tiles that offered access to the attic above.
She held her breath as Cal pulled a chair across the room, climbed up on the seat and yanked hard on the latch. Nothing happened. His jaw tightened as he pulled harder. With a slow creak, the panel opened to reveal a set of collapsible stairs. He gave another hard tug, and a hinged staircase unfolded to the floor.
“Piece of cake.” Cal climbed down from his perch and set his foot on the bottom step of the staircase. “I’ll get those blankets and see what else I can find up there. If anyone comes to the door, you’ll have to stall them until I can maneuver this contraption back in p
lace.”
“Sure thing.” Abby still couldn’t believe her eyes. But there was no denying the sight of Cal’s boots disappearing into the square opening at the top of the stairs.
“Abby?” Isobel pulled herself up to a sitting position, a frantic look on her face. “I think I need to push.”
Abby scooted next to Isobel and reached for her hand. “Okay, Iz. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Keep your chin tucked in and just bear down when you feel the pressure. I’ll be here with you, helping you all the way. Are you ready to give it a go?”
Isobel nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” Abby waited until the contraction began to subside. “Good job. But you need to rest now so you’ll be ready when the next one rolls around. And remember that the important thing is not to fight the pain.”
Silence settled over the room, punctured only by Isobel’s breathing. Isobel’s gaze searched to meet hers. “Is it okay if we talk a little bit more? I was hoping we could discuss something that relates to what Cal asked about my husband. I told Cal that Ricky didn’t know about the baby, and that’s true. But I didn’t mention that the baby was the reason I ran away. I had been planning to leave for a long time, but finding out that I was pregnant sealed the deal.”
“You were afraid that he would be angry when he heard your news?” Abby guessed.
“Actually, it was the opposite. I knew that once he found out he’d never let me go.”
“How could he stop you?”
“That’s the part I didn’t want to tell Cal. With him being the sheriff and all, I was afraid I’d be judged by association. Ricky pretends to be a regular guy and a hardworking businessman, but none of that’s true. He operates outside of the law, dealing drugs and engaging in human trafficking. He’s been caught a couple of times, but his attorneys always get him off on some technicality. He’d never rest if he thought I was keeping him away from his only son.”
“Cal wouldn’t judge you if he knew the truth. He wouldn’t think less of you because you made a mistake and married the wrong man.”
Rescue on the Run Page 4
