Apples and oranges. You couldn't compare the two of them. Kevin operated from weakness while Sam operated from strength. You only had to look at him to know he was the kind of man who took charge of situations. The kind of man who would be there for you, no matter what.
Wishful thinking, Galloway. Don't listen to all of those nesting hormones because they'll lead you astray.
Sam was the finest person she had ever known. He had taken on the responsibility for his five brothers and sisters at an age when most guys were looking to get drunk and party. Because of Sam, his siblings were well-educated, productive men and women instead of the statistics they might have become if Sam hadn't been willing to step up to the plate.
Besides, she owed him her life. If he hadn't broken down her door that night, she wouldn't be there right now with a miracle child growing inside her belly and more happiness inside her heart than she had ever believed possible. Could she be that wrong about a man who had revealed so much of his own heart to her?
Warren had said that Sam was like a son to him. They don't come any better than Sam, he told her one day when Sam was out of earshot. I'd trust him with my life.
So would I, Annie thought as she rested a hand on her belly. I'd trust him with two lives.
Maybe it was crazy. Maybe she was heading down the same disastrous road she'd walked with Kevin but she was willing to take that chance. What was the point of loving someone if you weren't willing to put yourself on the line when the going got rough?
Her gaze swept the barn. She saw the canoes swaying from the ceiling, the one in progress on his workbench. The elegant curves of wood. The mountain of nails. Shavings of red cedar spiraled on the floor. The cell phone resting on the bench of the canoe in progress. Her heart beat so hard that it hurt. The phone, that was it! What was it he had said – dead as a doornail. But it wasn't. She had seen the faint green glow seeping between his fingers as he cupped his hand over the display as if to hide the light from their visitors.
They had lied to him and he knew it and now she knew it too. But what on earth was she supposed to do with the information?
"Ready?" one of the suits asked Sam.
"Now's as good a time as any," he said. He looked toward Annie. "You'll take care of Max?"
"Of course I will."
"Don't worry," he said with a jaunty smile. "I'll be back before sunset."
She favored him with a big smile. "Ciao," she said. She held her smile until he turned away. She refused to let any of those bastards see her cry.
She held onto Max by the collar and they watched as the suits helped Sam into one of the cars then drove away. The pain inside her heart was almost more than she could bear but she didn't have time for pain or disappointment or questions. She counted to ten after the last car disappeared then grabbed for the cell phone on the work bench.
She had to figure out the phone's importance and fast. She pressed the power key then watched as green light filled the display. There was nothing special about the phone, at least not as far as she could see. No fancy gadgets or internet capabilities. The one thing that caught her eye, however, was the red 6 key. How odd. What could be so compelling about the 6 key that you would make it the centerpiece of the keypad?
She did what any normal person would do under the circumstances: she pressed it.
Nothing.
She pressed it again and then hit the send key.
Still nothing.
She pressed AUTO then the 6 key and instantly a no-nonsense voice crackled in her ear.
"Code number, please."
"I don't have a code number."
"Use of this phone requires a specific code number. Please speak it into the mouthpiece."
"I can't," Annie said. "I don't know what it is."
"Please identify yourself by slowly speaking your name, first and last, with correct spelling, followed by street address, zip code, phone number, and social security number."
"I have no idea who you are. Why should I give you my social security number?"
"Ma'am, you are using a phone restricted for use by the United States government. Any other use is a violation of the law."
"You don't understand. The owner has been arrested and I don't know what to do. I found his phone and –"
"Hold on, please, ma'am. An agent will be with you momentarily."
"Max," she said to the yellow dog by her side, "I think we're in big trouble."
Chapter Nineteen
They were smarter than Sam had figured. Two of the four cars peeled off when they hit the highway which made them look more like independent travelers and less like a flotilla.
Smarter wasn't good. He had been hoping for a lot less in the way of grey cells and a lot more in the way of conversation. So far the chatter in the car had been limited to gas mileage and that weird knocking sound under the hood. He'd been tempted to strike up a conversation with them and maybe ask them outright what the hell was going on but an attack of common sense stopped him.
He tried hard not to think of Annie. They wouldn't send anyone back there for her. If they'd wanted to grab her, they would have done it when they found them together. She was safe. He repeated it over and over again, a mantra. She was safe and he would be back in her arms before the night was over.
When she said "Ciao" instead of goodbye, he had wanted to send up a cheer. They had ended every phone conversation with that word since the night at Cappy's when they'd listened to the Yankee matron trill "Ciao" into the mouthpiece after each call. Annie knew about the phone. She had listened and watched and added up the clues. Now all Annie had to do was punch in a few keys and headquarters would be swarming all over Shelter Rock Cove in the blink of an eye.
He wouldn't be at all surprised if they had a little welcome party waiting for them at the airport.
He glanced out the window. They were almost there. His heart raced so quickly he had trouble breathing. The cops had to be there. Maybe the feds, too. They would swarm the car before the driver shifted into park and Sam would be free.
It's not going to be that easy, Butler. These guys kidnapped you. That's a federal offense. They're not going to go down without a fight.
Which meant guns. Sweet Jesus, what the hell was happening? He sank down lower in his seat. If the airport was teeming with law enforcement types, it was bound to get ugly. He had the feeling neither side would think twice about opening fire, and guess who was the only one around for miles without a weapon? But then, it wouldn't have mattered if he had one because his wrists were cuffed. A real good news/bad news situation.
The driver made a sharp left and they proceeded through the gates and out onto a runway that hadn't seen a repair crew – or anybody else -- in a long time. A small jet waited some hundred yards away while a man in a pilot's uniform walked around it. He did everything but kick the tires.
No cops. No feds.
He was on his own.
I love you, Annie, he thought as they opened the car door and he stepped out into the afternoon sun. Whatever happens, I'll always love you.
He let it all out, all of his rage and frustration and love, every bit of it, in a series of kicks meant to kill. His first kick took the taller agent by surprise and the guy dropped like a sack of rocks. The agent clutched his mid-section and rolled on the tarmac in agony. His second kick clipped the shorter agent's shoulder but didn't slow him down. He kept coming at Sam, aiming blows to Sam's head that Sam couldn't ward off with his hands in cuffs.
Sam's balance was off. He was dizzy. His head felt like it was spinning. He dug in and tried to center himself for another kick but he couldn't position himself in time and space. He heard the sounds of car engines close by, voices, people running toward them.
You're running out of options, Butler . . . better make it work . . . better get it right . . . I love you, Annie . . . love you . . . .
He spun into his third kick but it was too little and it was way too late. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one o
f the agents moving toward him and that was the last thing he saw before everything faded to black.
#
Warren's home and barn were swarming with more agents, cops, and detectives than Shelter Rock Cove had taxpayers. Sam hadn't been arrested; he had been kidnapped and the question now was by whom. Annie was being grilled by a man named Briscoe who acted as if she had singlehandedly tried to overthrow the government. He made innocence feel like it should come with jail time. He even held out the theory that Sam's kidnapping might actually be a set-up.
"I don't know who they were or what they wanted with Sam," Annie said for the third or fourth time. "They're the ones who kidnapped him, not me." She had trouble even saying the word. The thought that Sam was somewhere out there being held captive by God knows who terrified her even more than the thought of an arrest.
"Nothing about the situation seemed strange to you."
"I didn't know there was a situation until they showed up. All I can tell you is that Sam asked why they hadn't called first and they claimed his phone wasn't working. I remembered seeing the green light flash when he tried it and – I've told you this over and over for the last hour and a half. Why are you wasting time asking me all these questions when Sam's out there in danger?" With that she did what she'd been trying not to do for the last hour: she burst into tears.
"You need a shot of whiskey," Briscoe said. "Any around here?"
"C-can't drink whiskey," she said. "I'm pregnant." Then she cried even harder.
Tough-as-nails Briscoe turned instantly to mush and Annie wondered why she had wasted so much of her adult life being stalwart and independent when it was clear a woman's best weapon was still a well-placed tear. Briscoe ordered his colleagues to make her a cup of tea and bring it to them in the living room right away. He offered her a pillow, a blanket, an aspirin. She shook her head and kept on crying. She couldn't have stopped crying if she had wanted to. Fear, joy, wonderment, love, disappointment, all of the emotions she had felt in the last few hours washed out of her in a torrent of tears. She was pregnant. She, Annie Galloway, was actually going to have a baby and the man she loved, the father of her child, had vanished without a trace.
Oh, Sam, I drove out here to tell you right away. I don't know how you're going to feel about it . . . we never talked about children . . . I didn't think it could happen . . . a baby, Sam, our baby . . . .
"Here," said Briscoe, handing her a cup of milky tea in a thick mug. "This'll help."
She thanked him. Max, who had been by her side every second since Sam was taken away, looked up at the agent and growled low.
"What's with that dog?" Briscoe took a step back. "Is he always that protective?"
"Yes," she said, giving Max a kiss on his yellow head. "He's a great boy, aren't you, Max?"
She took a huge gulp of tea. It was hot, sweet,and bracing, exactly what she needed. "Please go look for Sam. I'm afraid he's in danger."
"We're working on it, Ms. Galloway. Believe me, we want to find Mr. Butler as much as you do."
I doubt that, she thought as she took another gulp of tea. You're not carrying his baby.
"This is my house, goddamnit!" a familiar voice rang out from the foyer. "Now let me in or I'm going to have your asses in a sling before you know what hit you!"
"Jesus H. Christ," muttered Briscoe. "What now?"
Warren strode into the room with all guns blazing. He was a good thirty years older than anyone in the room but he dominated the place through sheer force of will. He walked right toward Annie and bent down to look at her.
"You're okay?"
She nodded. "It's Sam. He's been kidnapped."
"I heard." He stood up and went toe-to-toe with Briscoe. "You better have one damn fine explanation for all of this."
Briscoe repeated the same company line he'd spun for Annie. They were there in response to Annie's phone call, not to disseminate information.
"What made you call the feds?" Warren asked her quietly.
"I used Sam's cell phone," she said. "Press the big red six and it's hello Washington."
Warren whistled low. "Any idea who kidnapped him?"
"I haven't a clue," she said, "and I'm not convinced they do either. Can you believe they suggested the whole thing might be a set-up?"
Warren pulled his own cell phone from his shirt pocket and made a call to a highly-placed Washington official. "They're tracking the progress of a private jet that flew out of the strip north of here about two hours ago. It's registered to the wife of one of the big chiefs at Mason, Marx, and Daniels where Sam worked."
Annie's spirits plummeted. That would only fuel Briscoe's set-up theory. Warren handed the phone to Briscoe, who listened, said little, then hung up.
"We may need to speak with you again tomorrow," Briscoe said to Annie. "Where can I find you?"
She gave him the address and phone number for Annie's Flowers.
"We'll be in touch," said Briscoe. "Remember: the public story will be that Mr. Butler was arrested. It's in his best interest and yours that you stick with that."
#
The news of Sam's arrest spread from one end of Shelter Rock Cove to the other at the speed of light. By the time she got home, everyone in town knew that Annie Galloway's boyfriend had been seen being taken away in handcuffs. Nobody knew where he had been taken, or by whom for that matter, but that didn't stop the gossip. Ceil from Yankee Shopper said her brother-in-law Stan had seen them boarding a private plane at the landing strip north of town but everyone knew Stan had a deeply personal relationship with Jack Daniel's and couldn't be counted on for accurate reportage.
Still, the bare bones of the story stayed the same no matter who did the telling. Poor Annie had picked herself a real loser. Oh, the sex was probably great – did you see the way they looked at each other and in public no less – but what good was great sex if the guy was behind bars? Maybe next time she would use her head and not her hormones and pick a man like that nice Hall Talbot. Everyone in town knew he'd been carrying a torch for her since high school. Wouldn't it be grand to see her with someone who had grown up in town same as she had?
Warren, who was a world-class worrier, drove home behind her to make sure she was okay. She invited him in for a cup of coffee and so he could satisfy himself that no bad guys were hiding in her closet or under the sleigh bed.
She played back her phone messages then deleted most of them. Sweeney sounded genuinely concerned. Susan sounded shocked. Hall sounded almost guilty. "I'm sorry about this. It's all my fault," he said. "Call me." Too ridiculous to even think about.
She poured Warren a cup of coffee and they sat down at the kitchen table to compare notes.
"You've known Sam a long time," Annie said. There was no point to beating around the bush. "Is there something you're not telling me? Some deep dark secret, maybe, that –"
"He's not like Kevin, honey."
Her head snapped back in surprise.
"Didn't mean to throw you a curveball but we don't have time to mince words."
"You knew about Kevin and his . . . " She couldn't get the word out. She had spent too many years keeping his secrets from the people who knew and loved him so they could go on loving him.
"Gambling," Warren said. "He asked me for money not long before he died."
"And you gave it to him?"
"No." Warren looked sadder than she had ever seen him and his sadness served as a balm to her aching heart. "I tried to help him work his way out of it, I volunteered to go with him to Gamblers Anonymous." He dragged a gnarled hand through his still-thick white hair. "I was afraid to give him the money. I figured he'd gamble it away before the ink was dry on the check."
"You're right," she said. "That's exactly what would have happened."
"I didn't want to embarrass you," he said. "I know the way you guarded your privacy. You protected Kevin's reputation with your own."
"I was wrong," she said. "I should have shouted it from the rooftops and forced him
to get help."
"You did what your heart told you to do. Can't ask more than that of a person."
"You knew why I had to sell the house."
"Ay-up," said Warren. "I knew."
"And you lowered the price on this one to help me out."
He scowled but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. "This dump? I was lucky anyone wanted it."
"I love this place," she said, then reached for his hand. "Almost as much as I love you."
They went over the afternoon's events again from beginning to end but still came up empty-handed. Warren whipped out his cell phone and made a few calls to his attorneys and a private investigator who kept track of comings and goings in the area. "I want every scrap you can dig up on who these guys were and where they were headed," he ordered, "and I want it yesterday."
"Yesterday?" Annie arched a brow. "You've been watching too much TV, Warren."
"If you don't tell them yesterday, you'll get it a week from tomorrow," Warren said. "Now let's start again from the beginning."
Annie had just begun to run through the sequence of events when they heard Claudia's footsteps coming up the walk.
Warren shook his head. "I don't know how such a little woman can make so much noise."
Annie glanced around the room as if she were looking for an escape hatch. "I'm not up for this," she said. "I can't face a round of I-told-you-sos from Claudia."
"I'll keep her in line," Warren said. "Any nonsense from her and I'll boot her narrow butt out the door."
Claudia knocked politely, waited a half second, then said, "I know you're in there. I'll camp out here all night if I have to."
Warren rolled his eyes as Annie got up to open the door for her mother-in-law.
"How are you?" Claudia cupped Annie's face in her hands and inspected her for signs of wear. "You look exhausted."
"I'm okay," Annie said, "all things considered." She motioned for Claudia to join them at the tiny kitchen table.
"I should've known I'd find you here." Claudia fixed Warren with a stern look. "Sticking your nose where you don't belong."
"Put a sock in it, old woman," he said. "If you don't have anything helpful to say, don't say anything."
A Soft Place to Fall (Shelter Rock Cove) Page 27
