Drawing in a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and forced the agonizing memories back. That was then, this was now.
“Michael, you okay?” Back in the living room, he headed to the front window and eased the blind open. The dark blue sedan that had been parked on the corner earlier that morning was missing as well. Harrington’s.
“Michael, did you reach Agent Harrington?” Michael was sitting at the table in the kitchen. His son held Ryan’s cell phone tightly against his ear with the weirdest expression.
“Michael, what’s wrong?”
Michael lifted his hand to halt Ryan’s questions. “Yes, sir, he’s here now,” he said, then extended the phone in Ryan’s direction. “They want to talk to you.”
“Oh, really?” Ryan could feel the anger rising. Being left out of the loop wasn’t acceptable. He knew they were breaking rules by letting him participate at all, but Harrington promised to keep him informed. Snatching the phone, he fully intended to give the agent an ear full. But the familiar voice cut him off.
“Ryan, where the devil have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour.” Ryan’s eyes drifted back to Michael confused.
“I think something’s wrong with your phone,” Michael said.
“What?” Broken words played hide and seek with the static. “Wait a second, I can’t hear you.” Ryan pulled the phone from his ear and examined the screen closely. The battery was charged, the tone set to ring as well as vibrate, but there was enough static to give a swarm of angry hornets a run for their money. The only explanation he could come up with was that the phone must have hit the ground when he knocked Michael off the motorcycle.
This wasn’t happening.
Putting the phone back to his ear, he strained against the noise to hear Agent Harrington. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. A new bought of irritation burned inside him, rising and falling with every breath.
“We have movement.” Anxiousness vibrated through the agent’s voice. “Every one of the suspects has up and left the building. They’ve scattered. Something’s going down.”
“And Steven?” Another long pause and several seconds of static followed before Ryan’s worst nightmare came true.
“I’m afraid Steven’s location is unclear at this time.” Ryan’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach, his mind spinning. So this was it. Steven was about to make his move and they were totally blind as to what it was.
He looked down at the crumpled piece of paper between his fingers. Makayla’s last words, her fate, their future now lifeless in the palm of his hand.
The park?
Could it be that simple?
Chapter Sixteen
Steven was on the move.
Ryan stood in the kitchen, but his soul felt detached and a million miles away. He ran a hand through his hair, each jolt of his heart packing more punch than a sledge hammer and fueling his determination. Watching worry seep over Michael’s face, he tried to keep his tone level. “Have your men head to the park on 21st street. I’ll meet you there!” The phone went dead before he finished, but he hoped they’d heard enough.
Following this lead was all he had.
Michael slanted a peculiar gaze at Ryan. “We’re going to the park?”
“Yes, son.”
“Why the park? Is Steven at the park?” As the last word left his lips, a knowing expression lit his dark eyes. “It’s Nicholas, isn’t it?” Michael’s brow eased out of a frown. “He lost Nicholas. Way to go, little brother. Stupid asshole didn’t know what he’d gotten his hands on taking that little stinker.”
Ryan’s gazed jumped to meet Michael’s after the curse word slipped, but Ryan let it slide. After all Michael had been through over the years, he’d certainly earned the right to curse.
Steven had damaged so many lives.
By the time they reached the park, the horizon burned with the orange hue of a setting sun. Visibility was slipping away too quick, the element of surprise turning to dust with the sirens echoing through the air.
Could the local police be that dense? Or were his suspicions right? Someone on the inside trying to tip their hand and send out a warning? Steven was no idiot. He wouldn’t stick around knowing the law was closing in.
Gravel crunched beneath the trucks tires as Ryan pulled into the gravel parking lot and brought the vehicle to a stop. Michael didn’t hesitate. He flung his door open, bolting off in a dead run for the tree line at the back of the playground. Ryan followed, evaluating the surroundings all the way.
The entire universe had gone crazy. Whatever happened to establishing a plan of action first? You know, securing the area? He shook his head and picked up his pace.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Ryan thanked God Agent Harrington had managed to hear his last words through all the static on his phone. He waved the team around the opposite end of where Michael entered the trees.
Evidently, Nicholas’ hiding place resided among the dense cover of the shrubs surrounding the park. Just beyond them, a dilapidated wooden fence, a small farm road and then the interstate. The perfect escape route for Steven. This was not good at all.
Ryan pulled his gun from the holster and entered the small opening only seconds after Michael. He felt his world teeter.
“Michael, where are you?” His oldest son had disappeared. Not a broken tree limb. Not a peep. Steadying his grip on the gun, he scanned the brush and trees, searching for movement.
A twig snapped just to his right. He froze. His heart lodged in his throat.
“It’s me! Oh, crap. Don’t shoot!” Michael emerged through a small hole beneath a fallen tree trunk and Ryan felt his heart rate intensify.
Shit. Ryan lowered his weapon and fought to contain his composure. Michael was lucky. He had no idea how close he’d come to being shot. Ryan’s level of training wasn’t at all what it used to be. The brisk breeze swirled the tension around them, intensifying the urgency. He cleared his throat. “Did you find anything?”
“Yes. Nicholas has been here. I’m positive.” Michael paused to swallow and catch his breath. “And Mom, too. But they’re gone now and it doesn’t look like they left alone.”
There are moments in life that rip deep gouges in your soul, unimaginable wounds left to fester and grow, fed only by one’s past experiences and nightmares. This was one of those moments.
Ryan tucked his gun back into its holster in a trance, fighting to keep the haunting memories away. The “what if’s” were stronger now, the threat of losing Makayla and Nicholas intensifying close to a festering frenzy. So many years had passed. So many gut wrenching emotions locked away deep down inside. How could this happen again?
Gritting his teeth till his jaw ached, he hurried to clear the fallen trunk and other scattered debris so he could assess the scene himself. Time was slipping away with the light.
“Can you tell how long?” Michael asked after several moments of intense silence.
“There are four sets of prints. Your mom’s, Nicholas’ and two men. By the look of the half eating granola bar and cold drink box, we just missed them.”
Ryan fought with his emotions to understand what the evidence before him meant. They were alive. Or at least they had been before they left. But the footprints were strange. Two sets, adult size, one larger than the other, lay at the back of the opening. They clearly belonged to Makayla and a very large man by the size fifteen-foot print embedded in the soft dirt. Then there were two other sets smack dab in the middle of the clearing near the leftover food.
These two triggered more uneasiness. One belonged to a man, the other to a child. His child. Makayla had fought hard, the drag marks in the dirt proof of a struggle. But the other two sets of prints, the large ones and the tiny ones he knew so well, had left side by side.
Could it be?
A talk he’d had with Nicholas several times over the past few years filtered through his mind. The conversation, telling a child how to react during a hostage situation, h
ad felt awkward, so Ryan made it out to be a game. With the fear Steven would find them someday lingering in the back of his mind, he’d had no choice but to try and prepare his sons.
Ryan followed the set of prints belonging to Nicholas. They lead to a hole at the back of the shrubs. A man-made hole. One probably cut with some kind of large tool or knife. His gut churned out a nasty warning.
This is where Steven and his goon entered, found Makayla and Nicholas, and then left with part of Ryan’s entire world.
He bent down to look at the footprints closer, forcing the uneasiness to recede and discovered a curious piece of evidence. Scanning further along the opening, he found another, and another and another. Yes. There could be no other explanation.
Lifting his eyes to the sky, he silently said a prayer of thanks. Nicholas had been listening after all. This young boy intended to lead his father to them exactly as Ryan instructed in the game.
“What? Did you find something?” Michael asked, stepping up behind Ryan to peer over his shoulder.
“Clues. Your brother is leaving us clues.” He turned his head and smiled up at Michael.
“Clues?” Michael brows furrowed in the center of his forehead, one raised perplexed.
“Look. This is a piece of his granola bar,” Ryan said lifting a tiny block for Michael’s inspection.
“And this crumb is a clue because…?” Michael’s voice revealed concern for his stepfather’s mental state. “Nick’s not the neatest eater.”
Ryan ignored him. “And here’s another. And another,” he said as he stood and walked forward into the shrubs, his eyes carefully searching as he shuffled his feet through the leaves and broken branches.
His young son appeared to be following his instructions to a tee.
When Ryan found tiny pieces of the wrapper on the other side of the shrub line, leading a clear path toward the fence, he turned to Michael. “Now do you believe me?”
Michael’s mouth fell open. “You’re telling me, Nicholas did this on purpose?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s get going. There’ll be more.”
Ryan slipped through the opening in the fence where several of the rotting boards had been removed and hurried to the dirt road, with Michael close behind. Fresh tire tracks. More of those damn drag marks. And lots of tiny footprints.
“I’m thinking Steven and Nicholas are riding in the backseat. Makayla’s in the front with the driver. Probably restrained.”
Michael’s brow lifted. “You can figure all that out just by looking at their footprints?”
“I’m guessing about the placement, but certain they all got into the same car.”
“Look. There’s more.” Michael inched forward to get a better look.
“Wait.” Ryan quickly halted his progress with his hands. “That’s far enough. Stay on the grass. We don’t want to disturb any evidence. The less footprints, the better.”
“Right there. Do you see it?” Michael squinted against the dimming light, his focus on the ground a few feet from Ryan.
Clarity hit.
“It’s a freaking arrow, Ryan.”
“Sure is. Nicholas has shown us the direction they were headed.” Heart pounding, he reached for his phone, remembering at the last minute it was broken. “Damn.”
“Man, I’m not believing this. When did he learn all this, Dad?”
“I’ve been coaching him for some time.” He paused and met Michael’s gaze. “I did the same with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ryan took a deep breath, searching the area. Where was the FBI? Every second that passed, put his loved ones in more danger.
“I taught you a version of this game when you were littler too.” He watched Michael’s eyes, knew he was trying hard to remember. “This mess is the reason I taught you to ride the motorcycle so young. I always worried this day would come.” Pain etched the tone of Ryan’s words. Damn these emotions. He needed to be strong for Nicholas and Makayla as well as Michael. The difficult part was knowing what Steven was made of. Ryan knew the psychopath better than anyone ever cared to.
A deep anguished laugh erupted before he could stop it. He pictured Steven’s face when all this ended. Steven would be trying to figure out how everything fell apart for years as he sat behind the bars of his jail cell. That is, if Ryan decided to let the bastard live.
The sound of heavy footsteps and rustling branches enveloped them as Agent Harrington and the others converged on the spot.
“Finally. Where the hell have you been?”
“Right behind you.” Harrington walked up and patted Ryan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ryan. We’ll get a visual on Steven’s vehicle by helicopter. If my hunch is right, they’re headed due west.”
Ryan passed a knowing look at Michael. His suspicions would be confirmed soon.
“Back home. To California.” Michael’s words hit Ryan like a ton of bricks. Ryan knew exactly what Steven’s plans were. The coward wanted to take Makayla and Nicholas back to his territory where he had the men and resources to hold off an army for eternity. If he made it, Makayla and his son’s chances would be slim to none.
“We can’t let that happen. We have to stop him,” Michael said. Painful memories flashed in his eyes.
“He won’t make it.” Ryan turned and gave him a quick bear hug. “I promise.”
After sharing with the FBI what he’d discovered in the clearing, Ryan rejoined Harrington on the dirt road. “I need a cell phone.” Nicholas would sabotage every step Steven tried to take. Ryan planned to be ready and waiting for the clues.
“I have an extra one in the car.” Agent Harrington motioned for an agent to retrieve it.
Once the phone was in his hands, Ryan commenced making calls. McCoy confirmed that road blocks, surveillance, and authorities in every state from Florida to California had been alerted and were now on standby. Well, what do you know? Looked like the FBI was finally on top of the situation.
Steven was good. But Ryan had the upper hand this time, had a little man working on the inside. A proud smile gravitated to his lips as he wrapped his arm around Michael.
“We’re going to find them,” he whispered.
Chapter Seventeen
Makayla’s wrists hurt, not to mention her face.
She eyed her cramp surroundings in a foggy, drug like state. A dashboard. Leather seats. Dark tinted windows. The heavy smell of a familiar aftershave mixed with sweat and torturous memories turned her stomach.
Several more minutes passed before her brain functions returned to normal and the reality of what happened registered. Man, Ricky hit hard. Why did they always have to strike across the jawbone? She moved her mouth, grimacing at the pain the effort caused. At least nothing felt broken. This time.
Panic rushed over her as she recounted her steps. Where was Nicholas?
Her jog to the park had been uneventful. She’d been careful. Thought she’d made it without being followed. The bench sitting at the back of the park had a clear view of the entire area. And she’d watched. Waited. For nearly fifteen minutes, she’d surveyed every inch of the park and playground, every entrance for signs of Steven. Only then did she make her way to Nicholas’ hiding place.
There her son lay, balled up in a fetal position peacefully sleeping.
“Nicholas!” Her heart wanted to explode.
Sleepy eyes turned tearful as he focused on her. But she was at his side before he could call her name.
“Oh, honey, are you all right?” She stroked his damp hair away from his dirt streaked cheeks. “Did that awful man hurt you?”
Nicholas smiled slyly. “I tricked him, Mommy. I tricked them all. I told them I had to go potty.” Then his little eyes turned serious. “Are you mad at me?”
“No. For what, sweetheart?”
“I went to my hiding spot without telling you.” A single tear rolled down his check. All this time he’d been alone and worrying that she would be mad.
“No. No, N
icholas. You did good. Real good, sweetheart. Mommy’s not mad. I’m so proud of you.”
His entire face lit up when he smiled back at her. “I’m hungry.”
Those very words were what started this whole mess. She would never understand how this little man’s metabolism worked. But if she’d fed him instead of worrying about the call, maybe her son wouldn’t have had to suffer like this. Grabbing the granola bar and drink box she’d smuggled into the bedroom with her when no one was looking, she fed her son.
That’s when the devil himself appeared before her.
“Steven!” She couldn’t believe her eyes. He’d walked through the thick shrubs separating the back of the park from the dirt farm road like a ghost through a wall.
“Myka,” he purred. “It’s so good to see you, my pet.” Those beady eyes stared at her, drilled hot piercing holes down to her soul.
Makayla pulled Nicholas to his feet as she stood and shoved him behind her. “Leave the boy alone. It’s me you want. I’m the one who disobeyed you, not him.”
“Fine young man you have there. Reminds me of my son.” The words scraped the back of his throat as they slipped out in a rough tone. So much bitterness, so much loathing it turned her stomach.
“But this is not your son, Steven.” She knew her mistake the minute the words slipped, but it was too late.
“That’s right. He’s not. But you. You are still my wife. So what does that make him?” He shook his head. “How could you, Myka?”
A flash of courage sparked through her. She’d grown up since they’d last tangoed, and he was about to see a different side of his precious Myka. “Your wife? Is that right?”
Steven’s brow furrowed into a challenging frown. “You dare question me?” She could feel the anger radiating from deep within him and every fiber of her being wanted to bolt.
“Oh, no, Steven. I would never question you.” She glared back at him, her fury over all his deceptions building strength within her. “I’m calling you a liar.”
Betrayals of the Heart Page 13
