A Soft Place to Fall

by Barbara Bretton

  So proud, he thought. Strong and tough and honorable, yet it was her loneliness that had reached out and touched his heart.

  "Who's back?" he prodded. "More Galloways on a mission from God?"

  The afternoon was so quiet. Not even bird song cut into the silence. Then in the distance he heard the sound of a car moving closer and in that moment he realized she was trembling.

  "You don't know what they're like," she said as he began to wonder if she was talking about little green men in space suits. "You can't hide from them. They'll find you no matter where you go and they'll keep finding you until they get what they want."

  He grabbed her by the arms. "You're scaring the shit out of me," he said, hoping to shock her back into coherence. "Who's after you, Annie? What the hell is going on?" She couldn't know about him. There was no way she could have found out.

  A car turned into the driveway. A second car followed right behind.

  "Take Max and go," she said, trying to push him away. "It's me they want. I did everything I could after Kevin died . . . I sold the house and the car . . . I worked three jobs . . . I paid off everything, every single dime but you can't break free of them . . . "

  It was beginning to make sense. The cottage by the water. The beat up old car. The lack of furniture. The sense that maybe her marriage hadn't been quite as easy as everyone else wanted him to believe.

  A car door slammed shut, then another, then two more.

  "Oh Jesus!" It was almost a keening cry. "Please go, Sam. This is my problem, not yours. You don't deserve to –"

  Four men in dark suits stepped from bright sunlight into the shadowy barn. Annie broke free of him and stepped forward. She was Amazonian in her defense of him and he had never loved her more than he did in that moment.

  "Let him go, " she said in a voice far stronger than he had ever heard before. "He's nothing to you. I'm the one you're looking for."

  The four men exchanged puzzled glances and Sam knew it was all over. His idyll in Shelter Rock Cove had come to an end. He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her back into the shadows.

  "I'm the one you want," he said, wishing with all his heart there had been a way to make this easy for her.

  "Sam Butler?" One of the men stepped forward from the pack.

  "I thought you'd call first," he said. "That's what I was told." First a phone call, then an agent would arrive to bring him back to New York under protective custody. That was the way it had been explained.

  "Check your cell phone," the man said. "We tried but you never picked up."

  A warning bell went off deep inside his gut.

  He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and pressed the power switch., then cupped his hand over the display so they wouldn't see the glowing green numbers. He quickly touched the button again to shut it off.

  "Dead as a doornail," he said.

  "See?" asked the man. "Couldn't get through."

  What the hell was going on? He'd had enough dealings with the feds over the last year to know when something didn't feel right. Only one explanation made any sense: Mason, Marx, and Daniels had gotten wind of the sting and Sam's place in it. They weren't big enough to stop the government but they sure as hell were big enough to stop Sam Butler.

  Annie's eyes were wide with fear. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything, walk her through his days and his decisions, shoulder the guilt that belonged to him and even some that didn't, if only it could take them back to where they had been just an hour ago before the real world came calling.

  But the less she knew, the better. All that mattered to him now was keeping her safe from harm.

  He tossed the phone onto the work bench. "So where do we go from here?"

  "Sam Butler, we have a warrant for your arrest on charges of embezzlement. You have the right to remain silent . . . "

  Annie cried out and for a moment Sam wanted to pull her into his arms and lie to her. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't do one goddamn thing but hold out his arms for the cuffs and let the silence between them say everything and nothing at all.

  Max growled as the men approached his master. Sam met Annie's eyes and the look of anguish in them almost dropped him to the ground. This is what you did to her, Butler. This is how she'll remember you. Can you live with it?

  He wanted to fight the bastards. He wanted to slam his fist into their smug faces then grab Annie and run as far away as they could. He'd never been one to give up in the face of trouble but this time there was no choice, not if he loved her.

  Annie wrapped her arms around Max's neck and held him by the collar. Poor old Max whimpered a little but she couldn't help the tears that streamed down her cheeks and darkened the dog's yellow ruff. The men weren't there for her. They had nothing to do with Kevin's gambling debts. For the first time in years, she wasn't the one running scared from strangers who showed up on her doorstep and turned her life inside out.

  The funny thing was, Sam hadn't seemed surprised. Startled, maybe, but not surprised. All of that talk about phone calls – it was almost as if he had been expecting this.

  Good going, Galloway. You really know how to pick them. Bad enough the first one was a compulsive gambler, now you've snagged yourself a criminal.

  She refused to believe that. Sam was a good man. She knew it deep inside her soul.

  Kevin was a good man, too, but that didn't stop him from almost ruining your life.

  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 of 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 Sa
m 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."