2000 Kisses

by Christina Skye

  He climbed the steps to the stage, thinking about how different his work was today. In the past, he had guarded senators and celebrities while they did the talking. Now he was the one at the mike.

  He saw Ms. Eliza Jenkins’ fourth-grade class. He saw their parents and their friends holding white cups filled with Mae’s coffee. All of them were good people. All were entitled to promises made and kept.

  He intended to do just that.

  After the mayor finished his introduction, T.J. cleared his throat and pulled the mike closer. “My grandfather always told me there were three things a person had to know to live in Arizona. Never stalk a bobcat from the front, a jackass from behind, or a politician from any direction.”

  He rubbed his jaw as laughter rippled through the audience, followed by loud applause. Tess and Grady were grinning as he continued. “The problem for me is that I’m standing here as your sheriff, and that means I get elected just like your other politicians. We’ve done good work here in Almost over the last few years. We’ve upgraded the 911 service, and so far there have been no problems with Y2K. We’re fully connected with the state crime database, and we have acquired two automated accident assessment computers. In short, the millennium has passed us by almost painlessly.” Applause broke, interrupting him for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t have challenges before us. We need higher qualification in firearms for all officers. We need better staffing for our search-and-rescue team. Our holding facilities could do with a major renovation, too. Of course, we all know that those things take money, something we don’t have a lot of right now.”

  T.J. stared out at the crowd, feeling a glow of pride for these people he’d been elected to protect. “Meanwhile, we’re catching up with the rest of the world, and we will continue to improve our record.” He linked his fingers at the podium. “Today is the day Almost was founded one hundred and twelve years ago. If legend holds true, the first mayor had the disposition of a mule and the determination of an Apache scout. Those are traits we can all cultivate if we hope to survive here for another century or two.” He pushed back his hat and studied the crowd, then looked up at the drone of motors over the hillside, where a sleek helicopter churned into view. He picked out the bright red call letters of a television station in Tucson.

  “One last thing and I’ll stop talking. All of you know where to find me if you have complaints or suggestions. Meanwhile, enjoy the celebration and thank you for making Almost the best place in the world to live—for me and everyone else I know.”

  As the applause rippled, T.J. watched Tess turn and move through the crowd toward the drinking fountains just across the square near the library. He relaxed as he saw Grady right beside her.

  The helicopter landed, the din of its motor drowned beneath applause from the crowd.

  T.J. saw Grady pacing awkwardly outside the women’s room. He was heading across the square when two town council members cornered him, eager to talk about a fund-raiser for the new clinic.

  Tess washed her hands carefully, then splashed some water on her face. She was pleased to see that her cheeks had taken on a healthy glow.

  Her friends in Boston would be full of envy when she returned.

  When she retuned.

  Tess swallowed hard. Did she really want to go back?

  She tossed the crumpled paper towel into the garbage, avoiding her reflection in the single mirror.

  She was barely outside the door, when a bank of lights flipped on, blinding her. A man with perfectly even white teeth shoved a microphone into her face. “Ms. O’Mara? Morning News Arizona. We’d like to ask you a few questions, please.”

  “Questions?” Tess blinked into camera lights that were blinding, even in the afternoon sunlight. “About what?”

  “We want to talk about your experiences here in Almost. What does someone from the East think about a small town like this? You’re from Boston, aren’t you?”

  She stared at the bright red logo on the microphone. “Boston?” she repeated flatly.

  How did they know that?

  “Sorry, I have to go.”

  Distracted by the lights, she didn’t feel the pinprick on her arm until it was too late. By then the sky was tilting, going dark above her.

  It took T.J. three minutes to escape the council members. He crossed the square at a trot, searching for Grady, but only a mother with two toddlers stood outside the library.

  There was no sign of Tess anywhere.

  His trot turned to a sprint.

  He was running now, pushing through the crowd as he fought down a premonition of danger. He was almost to the other side of the square when he saw the news helicopter lift off from flat ground behind the courthouse. The blades droned, shining in the late afternoon sunlight.

  He looked up, shading his eyes against the sun. Something about the call letters on the side of the helicopter seemed wrong.

  A moan drifted from the far side of a little garden outside the library, where Grady lay crumpled on the ground beneath a mesquite tree.

  T.J. cursed as he crouched and performed a quick check for broken bones. “Grady, wake up,” he ordered. “Where’s Tess?”

  The deputy rubbed his head, wincing. “Last thing I knew, she was in the bathroom.”

  T.J. tapped on the door and drew his gun. “Anyone in there?” A mother came out with a baby in her arms. “No one else is in there, Sheriff.” She frowned at T.J.’s gun, held in a tight line down the side of his body. She moved out of range fast, and T.J. edged inside.

  He searched each stall and found them all empty.

  Grady was standing unsteadily when he emerged. “No one in there. Where is she?”

  “They hit me from behind. I didn’t see anything until it was too damned late.”

  T.J. felt the shock hit him in the chest. Tess was gone, in the hands of men who would squeeze whatever information they wanted from her. When they had that, they would kill her.

  Fury blurred his vision.

  But T.J. shoved down his anger and his fear. Emotions weren’t going to get her back safely. He reached for his cellular phone, dialing the television station, only to be told what he already suspected. They had posted no news team to Almost.

  “They must have taken her in the helicopter,” he said flatly, trying to stay calm while his stomach twisted in knots.

  “The news crew?” Grady looked confused.

  “That was no news crew.”

  T.J.’s mind was already scanning possible locations, every thought focused on Tess, as if he might somehow pick up her subtle mental signals if he tried hard enough. The kidnappers would need a place that was secluded, where they would not be easily seen. Most canyons in the area were visible from the air. That left only two places.

  The back country near the Needle would be perfect, but there weren’t many places to land a helicopter there. That left only one.

  T.J. ran to his Blazer, shouting orders to Grady on the way. He considered borrowing a helicopter from a rancher to the north, but discarded the idea almost immediately. The noise would give them away as clearly as a police siren.

  The only answer was to go by car and track the chopper.

  He needed Miguel to do that.

  Grady directed him to the library, where Miguel was hunched over a computer terminal. He looked up, his eyes questioning.

  “Someone has taken Tess,” T.J. explained tersely. “I need help to track them, and it might be dangerous,” he added. “But no one can read the landscape like you.”

  Miguel’s only answer was to rise and shoulder his canvas bag.

  Ten minutes later, T.J. had assembled a backup crew by phone. Thirty hand-picked men were waiting in town, ready to follow at his order. Grady had notified the state authorities. That left one more call to make.

  T.J. tracked down Andrew O’Mara, his voice terse.

  “Dammit, how did they get past you, McCall?”

  “They did. That’s all that matters. We’re going af
ter them now.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “Wait till dark. Stay close but not too close.” T.J. stared at the line of mountains to the north. “We know the desert, and they don’t.”

  “That’s an assumption. They could be working with someone local.”

  “No one from Almost, I promise you that.” T.J. thought about Tom Stoner, unable to believe he could be involved in kidnapping.

  Not that T.J. was taking any chances. He had already told Grady to run the rancher in and hold him until their return, just in case.

  “I’m taking the next flight out. I’ll give you a number to reach me en route.” O’Mara muttered an oath. “Hold on, McCall. My assistant is waving at me like it’s World War III.”

  The silence stretched out. T.J. waited impatiently, staring into the shining red ball of the setting sun.

  “Andrew?”

  The line was dead.

  24

  Pressure throbbed inside Tess’s head. She opened her eyes, and nearly gasped at the pain as light burned past her eyelids. She rubbed her neck, trying to focus her tangled thoughts through the drone of motors and a tilting sensation.

  She twisted, only to feel her hands bound tight. Panic engulfed her as the motors abruptly died.

  From the silence came drifting bits of conversation. She was certain that one voice belonged to the man who had claimed to be from the television news crew.

  She remembered the prick at her arm.

  Drugged.

  Kidnapped.

  The money …

  She lay still, giving every appearance of being asleep.

  Another voice came, lower and more nasal. “Shouldn’t she be coming out from under by now?”

  The first man answered. “Anytime now. And we definitely need her conscious.”

  “You want me to slap her around?” The man sounded pleased at the thought.

  “Just use water. I don’t want her to be any more difficult to deal with than necessary.”

  Tess forced herself not to move, groaning and refusing to open her eyes when they shook her. Instinct told her to feign unconsciousness as long as possible.

  “What about that sheriff? He’ll be coming after her.”

  “Only if he has some kind of superdog that can track a helicopter over the mountains,” the other man snapped.

  “Still, he’ll be coming. He or one of the deputies has been with her every day. By now he will have found that officer outside the library.”

  “Let them come. None of them will know where to look. By the time they get trucks out to these canyons we’ll have what we want and be long gone. Most people in the area don’t even know about this place, so you can stop worrying. You’ll get your money.”

  The nasal voice cut him off. “So you keep telling me. I haven’t seen any of it yet.”

  “You will. We all will. Now, stop whining—I have to make a call.”

  Tess heard the sound of rustling. Then the man cleared his throat.

  “Give me Andrew O’Mara. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  There was a pause, broken only by the sound of the wind.

  “No, you listen to me. It’s time to make a deal, O’Mara. You want your sister back, you’re gonna have to give us our money. That’s right, all of it. A million dollars. You have two hours.”

  “Time? That’s your problem.” There was a bark of laughter, but to Tess it sounded strained. “Talk to her? Sure you can, the very next time I call. Right now you’d better work on getting that cash together. Small bills. I’ll give you the drop location when I call back.”

  Footsteps crunched over gravel. Hands tightened, pulling her upright and slapping her face. “Wake up, dammit.”

  She gave a low groan.

  “Still asleep.” It was the nasal voice again.

  “The next time I call, he’ll demand to speak with her, and I want her conscious.”

  She lay unmoving, her palms sweaty, praying they would go away.

  “Wake her up.”

  A hand clamped down on her neck.

  T.J. was fighting impatience as the silence stretched out. What was happening? Had O’Mara turned up some news already?

  Finally Andrew cut back onto the line. “Bad news.” His voice was clipped and tight with anger. “These people are well connected, McCall. They had my name and my office number. Here it is: they want their million or they’ll kill Tess, and I can’t negotiate after a ransom threat. It’s against all government policy.” Metal clattered as if a can had been thrown against the floor. “I told them not to freeze the damned account. I told them it would push these people into a corner, and it has.”

  T.J. fought for calm despite a surge of rage. “Get someone on the call. It’s probably a cell phone, but it could still be tracked.”

  “Already done. It’s going to take time.”

  “Keep them dangling. Tell them the money will be brought in tonight.”

  “I know the drill,” Andrew snapped. “And you can be sure I’ll make them let me talk to Tess when they call back.”

  “Good. Stay on them.” T.J. swept the valley before him. “We’re on our way.”

  Miguel stopped above a deep wash shaded by cotton-wood trees. The leaves shook like tiny coins in the wind as the wiry man moved slowly, crisscrossing the rocky ground. T.J. paced restlessly, seeing nothing beyond the double tracks of a jackrabbit, but he bit back his impatience, knowing Miguel had good reasons for stopping.

  He had thirty men waiting to head out from Almost. At his call they would move instantly.

  But T.J. had to wait. The last thing he wanted was Tess caught in the middle of a firefight.

  Miguel squatted, scanning the ground. Finally he stood up and pointed. “They came this way, flying low. They were headed northeast.”

  “How can you tell?” It seemed like pure imagination to T.J. Miguel was good, but no one was this good.

  “The tracks tell me that the animals fled. All the prints move in the opposite direction and they are made at the run. Only three things can do that. Floods, fire, or something that terrifies with deafening noise, like a helicopter.” He swept his hand to the right. “The bobcat moved here, and a rabbit ran beside it, unharmed. Only great fear would cause such a thing.” He moved higher up the slope and beckoned to T.J., who saw running sets of double oval tracks.

  “Javelina. Three or four of them.”

  Miguel nodded. “Running. Very frightened.” He crouched, fingering the willowy bough of a young mesquite. “See how the branch is broken in many places? A great wind can do this, or blades that cut fast. They would also send the sand in shifting patterns like water.”

  T.J. looked down and saw just such a pattern on the sand before them. His admiration for Miguel’s skills grew tenfold.

  Back in the Blazer, T.J. gunned up the slope, sand spinning angrily beneath his wheels. At the top, he slowed, feeling his first hint of optimism since he’d discovered Tess was missing.

  He knew the place before them. He recognized the dark walls across the distant cliffs, even in the gathering twilight. Near the base of a granite outcropping he saw the glint of metal. He looked at Miguel, who nodded.

  “We will find her, my friend. Soon it will be twilight, and I know a dozen ways in. No one will hear us.”

  “There.”

  T.J. and Miguel were crouched behind a gravel ridge banked by dense scrub. Below them stretched the undulating waves of the foothills with the ancient ruins like a dark scar in the gathering shadows. They could make out activity near the base of the canyon.

  T.J. pulled out his rifle, focusing through the night vision sight. “There are two men by the canyon wall beside the helicopter.” He scanned the scene twice and cursed. “I still don’t see Tess.”

  Miguel stared for a long time in silence. “She is there. I sense her.” He pointed carefully. “There is a small path from the left. It follows the old ruined walls.”

  T.J. studied the slope with the night visio
n sight. “I see it.”

  “You will take that path. In the darkness, you will not be noticed.”

  T.J. turned his head to study his companion. “What about you?”

  “I will come from the opposite side. It is better that we go separately. If one of us is caught, the other will find her.”

  After a long time T.J. nodded. He didn’t want to think about Tess huddled in the darkness, alone and frightened. She must know that he would follow her, no matter what.

  He prayed he was in time.

  Ruthlessly, he forced his thoughts to the task before them, knowing it was the only way he could help her. The shadows were already shifting into darkness as he slid his rifle, phone, and canteen into a black pack. Over his shoulder he heard a soft sound, almost like the whisper of sand in the wind.

  He turned sharply. “Miguel?”

  There was no answer. Only the mesquite fronds moved, ghostlike in the night. The spot where Miguel had been standing was empty.

  Through the trailing greenery of the mesquite, T.J. thought he saw a brown shape lope up the wash toward the cliff.

  They pulled her upright and shook her hard. Tess groaned and made a weak twisting movement.

  “Untie her feet and put her on the ground. Then douse her with water.” The words were hard and clipped. “I want her awake and vocal when I call her brother. What happens after that is a different matter,” he added roughly.

  After that they would kill her.

  Tess fought back panic, knowing she had to stay calm. She felt them work at the ropes on her ankles. Then she was toppled to the ground in a blur of pain that was followed by the slap of freezing water. This time she didn’t have to feign a moan.

  Somewhere nearby she heard the flare of a match. “Use more water. Then shake her.”

  She steeled herself to another onslaught, listening to something rustle up the slope. She prayed it wasn’t a snake.

  “Sanchez, is that you?”