Between Now and Forever

by Barbara Freethy

  He stood up. "All right. Let's go."

  Chapter Nineteen

  It took Nicole and Ryan far longer to get across town in the Los Angeles morning commute than either one of them expected. By the time they pulled up in front of Carole's house, it was almost nine. There was no car in the driveway, although certainly Carole could have put her car in the three-car garage at the side of the property.

  Nicole jumped out of the car as soon as Ryan cut the engine. He followed her up to Carole's front door. She gave the bell an impatient jab. No one answered. She tried again, this time holding her finger down on the bell.

  Finally, the door swung open, but it wasn't Carole in the entry, it was an older woman dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved black sweater. A housekeeper, Nicole thought.

  "We're here to see Carole Holt," Nicole said.

  "Mrs. Holt is not home."

  "Do you know when she'll be back?"

  "No, she didn't say."

  "We really need to speak to her. Do you know where she went? It's an emergency."

  The woman shook her head. "Sorry."

  Nicole let out a sigh as the woman closed the door in her face. "That's great. Carole is gone, and we don't know where she went. We need to call the police, Ryan. Maybe they can find her."

  "Let's talk about it in the car," he said, heading back down the drive.

  As they got into the car, she pulled out her phone. "Who should I call? Max? Inspector DeCarlo or Chief Silveira? What do you think?"

  "Hold that question."

  He drove down the block, then pulled a three-point turn and parked behind a white van on the opposite side of the street.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "I saw someone look out the window when we were at the door. Carole may be home and just doesn't want to talk to us again. I think we should wait here for a bit and see if anyone leaves the house."

  "All right," she said, not sure that they wouldn't be waiting all day, but at the moment she didn't have a better idea. She settled more comfortably into her seat. "By the way, after you fell asleep last night, I did a search on the two male names that Carole gave us, and they're both dead ends as far as I can see, at least in terms of one of them being the kidnapper. Malcolm has been overseas with the Marines for the past several months, and while Devon might have dropped off Andrea at rehab, he's been in New York the last few weeks, performing as a DJ at a nightclub."

  He gave a nod of approval. "Nice work."

  "I think our most likely suspect, aside from Carole, is Jonathan Haywood, but I couldn't find anything on him beyond what Chief Silveira told us yesterday. What do you think?"

  "I agree that Haywood is probably involved. I can't explain the gummy bears in Carole's bag, unless they're some sort of guilty pleasure for her. I have seen adults eat gummy bears."

  "Maybe, but seeing them in her bag—"

  "And in your dream," he reminded her.

  "I do know the difference between reality and a dream, but we'll just have to see what comes of it."

  "You have good instincts, Nicole, so if you think the gummy bears are important, so do I."

  "I appreciate that."

  "And I'm sorry I fell asleep on you last night."

  "You were exhausted." She paused. "I'm going to call Max and tell him what we know so far. It's been awhile since I checked in with him, and I want to make sure that Chief Silveira is keeping him in the loop." She punched in Max's number. "Hey, Max, it's Nicole."

  "I was just going to call you," Max said. "Inspector DeCarlo told me that you spoke to Mrs. Holt yesterday. How did that go?"

  "Well, she lied to us, so not that well."

  "What are you talking about?"

  She suddenly realized that no one else knew about Andrea. She'd been so distraught after leaving the center that she hadn't given a thought to sharing the information with the police. "We found Andrea Holt," she said.

  "What?" he asked in surprise. "Where?"

  "She's in the Serenity Healing Center in Santa Monica. She's undergoing psychological treatment and rehabilitation for substance abuse. She's been there for three weeks, Max. She doesn't have the kids. She's not the kidnapper. I saw her with my own eyes."

  "Did you talk to her?"

  "No, she was sedated."

  "You should have called me, Nicole."

  "I know. I really am sorry. I was shaken up when I realized she didn't have the kids, and I wasn't thinking straight, but you can follow up with the director of the center, Dr. Robertson. He's going to speak to Andrea this morning and see if he can get any information from her about the biological father."

  "So you haven't found the father yet?"

  "No, but I hope Chief Silveira filled you in on Jonathan Haywood."

  "Yes, I'm up to date on that part of the investigation. We're trying to find Haywood now."

  "I think Carole Holt is also involved," she said. "She lied about not knowing where Andrea is. Dr. Robertson told us she visited her daughter the second day she was there. And Carole also had gummy bears in her grocery bag."

  "What?"

  "Gummy bears. I know it sounds far-fetched, Max, but I don't see this Beverly Hills woman having a desire to eat a sugary kids treat like gummy bears. I think she bought them for the kids."

  "Where are you now?"

  "Outside of Carole's house. Her housekeeper claims she's not home. We're waiting to see if that's a lie."

  "Nicole, you need to get out of there. If Carole is involved in the kidnapping, she could be dangerous."

  "Ryan is with me. We're okay."

  "Ryan is a pilot, not a cop, and I don't think he has a gun—does he?"

  "No. But we're not doing anything dangerous. We're just waiting for her to come home."

  "Or to leave," Ryan interrupted, tipping his head toward the silver Mercedes backing out of the driveway.

  "I've got to go," she told Max. "She's leaving. We need to catch her."

  "No, you don't need to catch her. I'll call the local police and have them bring her in for questioning."

  "Do what you need to do," she said to Max. "I'll call you later."

  "Nicole, do not go after her on your own."

  She ended the call and then turned the ringer to mute as Ryan drove down the street, careful not to get too close to the Mercedes.

  "Max is calling the local cops," she said. "They'll bring her in for questioning."

  "Only if they can find her," Ryan said grimly. "I'm not letting her out of my sight until the cops pull her over, or she gets to where she's going."

  Ryan followed Carole through Beverly Hills and onto the freeway. There was enough traffic for them to remain inconspicuous, but not too much that they couldn't keep Carole's car in view.

  "Where is she going?" Nicole muttered fifteen minutes later, as Carole left the freeway and turned north up the Pacific Coast Highway towards Malibu.

  Ryan didn't bother to answer, his focus on the Mercedes.

  Nicole felt her nerves tighten with every passing mile and she was filled with anxiety. She hoped that Carole was leading them to the boys and not on another wild goose chase. But they wouldn't know for sure until Carole stopped. One thing was clear; Carole was the only one in the car. Whatever she was doing—wherever she was going, she was on her own.

  They drove past the mansions of Malibu, continuing north along the coast. The highway ended as they entered a town called Oxnard. Carole continued through the residential streets, driving past much more modest homes, as well as fruit stands and small farms.

  As the traffic thinned, Ryan deliberately stayed behind a slow-moving truck for some cover. But it didn't appear that Carole knew anyone was following her since she didn't make any sudden moves or lane changes.

  Nicole's phone rang twice, Max and then Emma's number flashed across her screen, but she didn't pick up either call. She knew they would try to talk her out of this chase, and she had no intention of letting Carole out of her sight. Once Carole got t
o wherever she was going, she would let Max know where they were.

  "She's turning," Nicole said.

  "I've got it," Ryan said, hugging the back of the truck until the next intersection came up.

  A few turns later, they saw Carole pulling into the driveway of a small one-story house, whose backyard faced the ocean.

  Ryan slowed down, pulling in behind a parked car five houses away.

  Nicole's heart leapt into her throat as she saw Carole get out of the car with two grocery bags and head up to the front door.

  Ryan turned off the engine. "Call Max," he said. "Tell him where we are."

  She dialed Max's number.

  "Where the hell are you?" Max asked.

  "I'm on Branson Street in Oxnard. The 400 block. Carole pulled into the driveway of a small house and went inside with grocery bags. I think she has the kids, Max. There's no way she has friends in this small, random neighborhood an hour away from her home."

  "I'll send the local police," he said. "Wait where you are, Nicole."

  "Okay," she said, knowing that if Carole tried to leave or if she saw any movement in the house, there was no way she'd be able to stay in the car, but there was no point in fighting with Max.

  She set down the phone and looked at Ryan. "Max is sending help. He wants us to wait here."

  "I figured," Ryan said grimly.

  She met his gaze. "We're not going to wait, are we?"

  "We don't know who's inside. They could be armed."

  "And they could have our son," she said, impatient to get Brandon back now that they were so close. "I don't think Mrs. Holt will try to shoot us."

  "Whoever she hired to kidnap our kids might be willing to do that," he reminded her. "Carole had to have paid someone to do the dirty work."

  She understood that it might be risky to go up to the house, but she didn't want to wait anymore. "Ryan, if the cops come and arrest Carole, she'll get a lawyer. And if the kids aren't in that house, she sure as hell isn't going to tell us where they are."

  "Fine. I'll go. You stay here."

  "No. We're doing this together."

  "Nicole, I don't know if I can protect you," he said flatly. "And I don't want to have to make a choice between saving Brandon and saving you."

  "If that was the choice, you would save Brandon," she said quietly, looking him straight in the eye. "But I can take care of myself."

  "I don't want to be stupid about this. We can wait for the cops."

  He was thinking logically, and he was probably right about waiting, but every instinct she had was screaming at her to act.

  And then the decision was made for her. The front door of the house opened, and a young woman came out. She carried two small backpacks in her hands. She walked over to Carole's car, opened the back door and put the backpacks inside.

  "They're leaving," Nicole said, her heart jumping into her throat. "We can't let them get away now."

  "Let's go," he said decisively. "I'll take the front. You go around the back, just in case there's another way out of the house. Be careful, Nicole. Stay out of sight as long as possible.

  "I will. You be careful, too."

  They got out of the car and walked down the sidewalk, then split off as they neared the house. Ryan headed toward the front door, Nicole to the side gate.

  She paused in front of the gate, watching as the young woman walked out of the door again—this time right into Ryan. The woman squealed in surprise.

  "Who are you?" she asked in alarm.

  "I want to see Mrs. Holt," he said, not bothering to identify himself.

  "I don’t know who that is," the woman said, stepping in front of him as he tried to move past her. "You can't go in my house."

  "Mrs. Holt walked through that door not more than five minutes ago," Ryan told the woman. "So get out of my way."

  "I'll call the police," the woman said.

  "Don't worry. They're already on their way." He flung the words over his shoulder as he pushed past her.

  As Ryan disappeared from view, Nicole moved through the side gate and into the small fenced-in backyard. She kept out of sight behind a tall bush, wanting to see who else might be around before she made a move.

  There was a play structure in one corner of the yard with a tunnel and a slide. There were toys on the grass, colorful balls and big blocks, and on the deck were sketch pads and paints.

  She heard a voice, a little boy's voice, asking what was happening. It had to be Kyle, she thought, her heart leaping with anticipation.

  The boys were here!

  She peered around the bush, and saw the French doors open onto the deck. Her breath caught in her throat. Carole was coming through the door, dragging two little boys with her. One was Kyle, and the other was Brandon.

  Nicole's heart stopped as she saw the face of her son for the first time in five long days. He wasn't happy. He was trying to pull away from Carole, and he had a look of agitation and fear on his face.

  "Brandon, stop," Carole said. "We have to go now. I have presents for you in the car. You're going to love them."

  "What kind of presents?" Kyle asked.

  "Lots of them," Carole said as she wrestled to keep a grip on Brandon, who was trying desperately to get away from her.

  Nicole slipped out from behind the shrubs just as Brandon broke free of Carole with a high-pitched scream. He ran toward the play structure, but before he could get there, a man came around the far side of the yard and grabbed Brandon, holding him in front of him like a shield as Ryan came charging out of the house.

  "Stay back," the man warned.

  "Don't hurt my son," Nicole said.

  She heard Carole gasp at her sudden arrival, but all of Nicole's attention was on the man holding her child.

  "I said stay back—both of you," the man yelled. He was a big guy with broad shoulders, long brown hair and a scruffy beard.

  "It's over," Ryan said. "The police are on their way. There's nowhere to go."

  "Oh, there's somewhere to go." The man looked at Carole. "Take out your wallet and throw it over here."

  Carole hesitated.

  "Do it," the man said.

  Brandon squirmed in the man's arms, his little legs kicking the man's big thighs.

  "He's right, Jonathan," Carole said, defeat in her voice. "It's over. Let Brandon go."

  "No way. I'm not getting away with nothing. Throw me your wallet now, or the kid takes a swim." He moved towards the waist high fence that was meant to prevent people from climbing on the crumbling cliff or falling into the ocean below.

  Swamped with fear, Nicole took another step forward. So did Ryan.

  "Don't move," Jonathan repeated, anger in his eyes. "I got nothing to lose."

  "Kidnapping is not the same as murder," Ryan said. "Let Brandon go now."

  "Not without cash."

  "Give him the money," Nicole said to Carole. Beyond the fence, the sea swirled like an angry, impatient and hungry monster.

  As Carole reached for her wallet, Jonathan cursed at Brandon, who was fighting as hard as he could.

  "Knock it off, kid," Jonathan yelled.

  Brandon screamed and then he planted his mouth on the man's arm, biting through his skin with a fury that came from somewhere deep inside.

  "Shit!" the man swore, stumbling backwards.

  Ryan rushed forward and yanked Brandon out of the man's arms. He set Brandon on the ground a few feet away and then rushed toward Haywood, swinging his right fist into Jonathan Haywood's face.

  Haywood flew back against the fence from the force of Ryan's punch. When he tried to move, Ryan hit him again. Haywood sank to the ground covering his bleeding nose with his hands as he rolled around, howling in pain.

  Nicole ran to Brandon. She wanted to throw her arms around him, but she didn't want to agitate or frighten him even more. He was huddled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his waist as he stared at his father.

  Ryan gave Haywood a kick when he tried to get up. "St
ay down," he ordered.

  "Brandon," Nicole said. "It's Mommy. Everything is going to be okay now." She paused. "Brandon, can you look at me?"

  Usually, when she asked him to do that, he ignored her or pretended not to hear her. But today, his head slowly turned.

  She caught her breath, not wanting to spook him.

  His gaze met hers, and there was a spark of recognition in his eyes that made her stomach clench. "Daddy and I have come to take you home," she told him.

  A part of her wondered if he remembered her or Ryan or home.

  She held her breath, hoping he wouldn't reject her or put up a fight, but he seemed to be all out of fight.

  His gaze moved past her, and she saw Kyle coming up behind her, a tentative, worried look on his face. He looked at her and then at Brandon. Something passed between the two boys. Then Brandon got up and walked over to his brother. He held out his hand, and Kyle took it.

  Then Brandon brought his brother over to her.

  It was the craziest, sweetest, most heartbreaking thing she'd ever seen.

  Then it got even better.

  Brandon put out his other hand to her, his gaze on her face.

  Her eyes blurred with tears as she covered his small fingers with hers. The warmth of his touch was shocking and wonderful, strange and familiar, all at the same time.

  "Oh, Brandon," she said. "I've missed you."

  He didn't answer her, but he didn't look away.

  Then Kyle said, "Are you really Brandon's mommy?"

  "Yes, yes, I am," she said. "And I'm going to take you home to your mommy, to Jessica. She's told me a lot about you."

  "She said this is our home now," Kyle said, pointing to Carole. "She said she was taking us to our real mother."

  Rage ran through Nicole. She looked at Carole and wanted to hit her the way Ryan had hit Haywood. But there was no point. Carole was done. There was defeat in her eyes, and she made no move to run.

  "She was wrong," Nicole told Kyle, a firm note in her voice. "Jessica is your real mother."

  "I thought she was," Kyle said with a nod. "Can we go home now?"

  "Soon," she promised.

  "I just wanted Andrea to see them," Carole said. She moved her sad gaze from the boys to Nicole. "My daughter was killing herself. When I saw her three weeks ago, she was close to death. She told the doctor that she hated me for not fighting for her kids, and she didn't want to live without them anymore. I had to do something. She's my daughter. I love her. I had to try to save her, and I knew there was only one thing that would make her happy."