The Target

by Catherine Coulter

  He noticed that she was barefoot. Her toes were painted a pale pink and were chipping. “When did you last speak to your father?”

  “Last week.”

  “And you told him what was going on?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me something, Molly. When was the last time you saw your father?”

  “That’s none of your business. It has nothing to do with this. Stop pushing me on this.”

  “I just want us to stay alive. You’re making that difficult by holding out on me. When, Molly? I deserve to know.” He rubbed his leg.

  “All right, but it doesn’t make any difference. The last time I saw him was three years ago.”

  He slammed the recliner forward and stood, staring at her. “Three years ago? What’s been going on?”

  She turned then to face him, but she didn’t move from her stand by the windows. “The last time I saw him was when Emma had just turned three years old. He flew to Denver for her birthday. But that wasn’t the real reason he came. He was angry at my husband. He came to Denver to see him.”

  “And did he see your husband?”

  “Yes, he saw him. Louey ended up with two broken ribs, a fractured kidney, and bruises everywhere except on his face, that lasted until the next Christmas.”

  “What had Louey done?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. It has nothing to do with this.”

  “You have no clue what does or what doesn’t have to do with anything at all.”

  “Listen, as I told you, Louey is my ex-husband. We’ve been divorced for two years. I didn’t lie to Emma about her father being worried about her. Louey did call once when he heard that she was missing, which was a big surprise to me. He called me before I even considered contacting him. As Emma already told you, he hasn’t bothered to see her since he left.

  “It was right after one of his concerts in Berlin. I remember clearly that he asked about Emma, said he’d heard from somebody in Denver that she’d been snatched, and wondered if I had her back yet. When I said no, he acted all sorry and depressed for about a minute. Then he sort of laughed and said that my daddy would pay the moon to get her back, and not to worry. He told me how the tour was going. He said this fräulein reporter—yeah, that’s what he called her—from the Berliner Zeitung compared him to Bruce Springsteen. He told me the Europeans had better taste than the Americans—in other words they like him better—said he just might spend most of the year in Europe. He talked about his conquests in Europe, in great detail. I don’t think you need to know any of that. He never mentioned Emma after the first time.

  “The policewoman listening with me just stared at me. She worshiped Louey, prayed he’d call so she could just hear his sexy voice. Or rather, she worshiped him until she heard what that sexy voice said. She patted my shoulder when I hung up.

  “I started crying and she kept patting. She thought I was sorry about Louey leaving me, sorry that he was bragging about all these women.”

  “I remember now,” he said after a moment. “There was press about the divorce, but never any details, no hints of infidelity or drugs or anything at all. Just a quiet announcement of irreconcilable differences, something like that. It was out of the public eye very quickly.”

  “My father is powerful. In this instance it was a good thing. No one had much to say about anything. There were a couple of days of speculation in the tabloids, but even they dropped it. I was very grateful to my father.” She looked down at her fingernails. There was mustard from the hot dogs on her index finger. She licked it off.

  “Molly?”

  “Louey, her biological father, didn’t ever want her. After we split up, I think he was relieved to be out of the daddy business. A child didn’t go with the sexy footloose image he had of himself. Funny thing is, she’s probably just as talented musically as he is. Maybe more so.”

  “How did Louey know Emma had been kidnapped? You said he called you before you called him.”

  “I wondered later about that. One of his friends in Denver probably called him. Louey undoubtedly thought that if it hit the press, he should act the concerned papa so he wouldn’t be seen in a bad light. Who knows?”

  “I wonder which friend in Denver bothered to call him.”

  “He didn’t say and I was too upset to ask. But you know, Louey is friends with a lot of folks in the media, from TV to newspapers. It was probably one of his newspaper buddies.”

  “Is there a special buddy?”

  “Yes, his name is James Hicks and he’s with the Denver Post. Why?”

  “No reason. I just like to gather information. Now, are you going to call your papa and tell him Emma’s safe?”

  “Yes, I should. He’s been very worried. I called him right away when Emma was kidnapped. I knew he’d have some of his people on it right away, and he did. A man and two women came by six hours after I’d called. It drove the local cops nuts. Lots of suspicion. I ignored the cops’ bitching about outsiders. I told them everything I could, why not? They wanted to help; my father was paying them to find Emma. I don’t know what his people actually did. I saw them several more times. We discussed leads, possibilities. If they found out anything, I don’t know about it.”

  “Did you tell them you were taking off to find Emma yourself?”

  “No, I didn’t. I’ll call him right now. At least he won’t try to trace the call.” She paused a moment, then said, turning to face him, “I wonder if my father suspected Emma’s kidnapping had anything to do with him? I bet he has. I know one thing: If he found out who did this, he wouldn’t hesitate to sanction a kill.”

  11

  SANCTION A KILL. She’d said it so easily, so naturally.

  How many times had she heard it said when she was a kid?

  “All right, I’m going to call. Hey, wait a minute. What if those men were there to rescue Emma and they thought you were the kidnapper? Of course they’d try to get rid of you. Of course they’d follow you. Oh goodness, there’s no end to the possibilities. I’ve got a headache, Ramsey.”

  “That goes really well with my leg ache. That theory could fly until you showed up. You think they haven’t at least seen a photo of you? You think that there’s any way they wouldn’t know you’re the boss’s daughter? Call, Molly. I want to hear what he has to say. Use your cell phone. Come over here so I can hear.”

  She sat down on the arm of the recliner and began dialing. Area code 312. Chicago and outlying residential areas, like Oak Park. Sure, that was where Mason Lord lived, only the best. He saw her hand tighten around the phone.

  Why hadn’t she seen her father for three years?

  The phone rang twice, then a man answered, his voice deep and mellifluous.

  “Miles? It’s me, Molly.”

  “Yes, Molly. You’ve got news about Emma?”

  “She’s fine, Miles. She’s back with me. Thank you for asking. I want to give Dad the news.”

  “Just a moment. Goodness, this is a relief. Mr. Lord’s been on a real tear.”

  “You heard that?” she asked Ramsey. Ramsey was three inches from the receiver.

  “Yeah, I heard.”

  There was a good twenty more seconds of silence, then, “Molly? Emma’s safe?”

  “Hello, Dad. Yes, I’ve got her with me. I found her. She’s fine.”

  “I don’t understand. I haven’t heard a word from my people. Do the Denver police know you’ve got Emma back?”

  “Yes, they know. They don’t like the fact that I got her back without them.”

  “Tell me.”

  She took a deep breath. “You know I went looking when the cops and the FBI didn’t get anywhere. I would have thought your people would know. Well, I found her. A guy had saved her and I came upon both of them. She’s safe. We’re going to stay out of sight for a while.”

  “There’s no reason to, Molly. Come home. You can bet I’ll protect the both of you.”

  “No, not yet. There are a lot more people involved th
an just a single kidnapper. I don’t want to take any chances. I’m going to keep Emma hidden as long as those people are still out there and looking for her.” Her knuckles were white she was clutching the phone so tightly. “It’s not a simple kidnapping, Dad.”

  “But they got a ransom note.”

  “Yes, but that ransom note arrived after I already had Emma back. It was a lie. Do you understand any of this?”

  “No, but I’ll speak to Buzz about it. We’ve already discussed the possibility of some enemy of mine being involved. But the important thing is you’ve got Emma back. I’m tremendously relieved.” He sighed. She could picture him running his fingers lightly through his hair, never enough to mess it up. “We’ve got nothing as of yet. But I don’t like the feel of this at all. How many people have you seen?”

  “Probably four different men, but we’ve managed to get away from them. We’re safely tucked away now.”

  “All right. I’ll speak to Buzz Carmen immediately. He’s still in Denver. How exactly did you find out about these other men?”

  “I knew they were following so I pulled off at an exit. When they went by, I got the license. I checked with a friend who found out for me that the truck was reportedly stolen from a farmer in Loveland, Colorado. The wife reported it; then the husband said he’d sold it. It sounds like maybe he did sell it—to the kidnappers. I phoned in the license plate to the Denver PD and the FBI. I’d appreciate your checking as well, Dad, then I’d know it got done right.” She gave him the license and the name of the farmer.

  “I’ve got it. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who gave you this information?”

  “I can’t.”

  He sighed. “Very well. Come home, Molly.”

  “I’ll call tomorrow. Emma’s just fine. Don’t worry. Those men won’t find us.”

  “About this man who found Emma. Who is he? How can you be sure you can trust him?”

  “If we can’t trust him, Dad, then it’s all over. Believe me, he’s the most trustworthy man in the world. Tomorrow, Dad.” She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the table.

  “At least you don’t call him Godfather.”

  She smiled at him. It was a charming smile, warm and full. She had a wide mouth and very white teeth. His father was a dentist. Ramsey always noticed a person’s teeth. His old man would really like what he saw.

  Ramsey liked that smile, too. It was almost as if she was ready to stop being afraid. She said, “Mason Lord is very good-looking. He’s black Irish: fair skinned, hair like ink, straight and thick, just a dabbling of gray at his temples. His eyes are such a startling blue, women just stare at him. He doesn’t appreciate having a grown daughter, much less a grandchild, but he copes. My mother was the one who told me I should call him by his first name, but I couldn’t get the hang of it. Neither could he. I remember thinking Mason jar every time I used his first name. When I told him that, he threw up his hands, laughed, and said to forget it. He’s been Dad for a very long time, actually since I was eight years old and moved away with my mother.”

  “I’ve never thought of Mason Lord as having human qualities, like a sense of humor. You don’t look a thing like him.”

  “No, I’m the picture of my grandmother. She was an actress in the fifties. Never got very far with it because she wasn’t beautiful or very photogenic. Boy, but could she act. It turned out not to be enough.”

  “You’re far from plain, Molly.”

  She just smiled at him, that same gorgeous smile. “You should see my mother. Now she’s what you’d call a looker. She’s fifty-five now and still a head-turning beauty. Both she and Father were appalled, I think, when I turned out the way I did.”

  She honestly believed what she was saying. It amazed him. Didn’t she look in a mirror once in a while? “Where’s your mother? What’s her name?”

  “Her name is Alicia and she lives near Livorno, Italy. That’s where her family is. She and Dad divorced when I was just a kid. I lived with her in Italy nine months out of the year and the other three months with Dad. I came back to the United States to go to college at Vassar. I’ve only seen her once a year for the past seven or eight years.”

  “Does she know about Emma’s kidnapping?”

  “I don’t think so, not unless she read about it in an Italian newspaper, and I strongly doubt the story made it there. I saw no reason to worry her.”

  “Your father hasn’t remarried.”

  “Oh yes he has, nearly three years ago. Her name’s Eve and she’s two years younger than me.”

  “You said that Emma’s musical. Does she play the piano or something yet?”

  “Don’t want to know about Eve, huh? I don’t blame you. She’d take one gander at you and lick her chops, but not while my dad was looking. One of my mother’s old friends called me and filled my ears with tales of Eve Lord. My mother’s friend is a Sunday school teacher, so I guess she’s trustworthy. Although maybe she wanted Dad for herself. Who knows? Emma plays the piano.”

  “I’ll buy her one of those two-octave portable pianos tomorrow. I’d like to hear her play.”

  “Thank you, Ramsey.”

  “Why haven’t you seen your father for three years?”

  He swore he could see her stiffen from across the room. He said, “Was it because he’d hurt your husband?”

  “You’re good at your job.”

  “Yeah, I am, but this hasn’t a thing to do with my job. I’m not being nosy, Molly, just trying to figure out what’s going on here. Help me.”

  “That was part of it.”

  “That’s a lie. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “All right. Louey said he’d take Emma away from me if I ever saw my father again. He called him a son of a bitch, as I remember.”

  “Why?”

  “Louey hated my father because he found out about him.”

  “Found out what?”

  She sighed deeply. “Louey beat me.”

  He started to jump out of the chair, grabbed his leg, and sank back down. “That scrawny little fucker beat you? As in he hit you?”

  “Yes. Don’t think I’m some sort of victim here. I told him if he ever touched me again I’d kill him. To be honest, I don’t know if he believed me, but I believed me and I’m sure he must have picked up on that.”

  “If he had a brain he picked up on it really fast.”

  “This was three years ago. What happened was that one of my friends found out and called my father. Mason came to Denver and personally beat the daylights out of Louey.

  “He told Louey that if he ever touched me again, he’d kill him. So Louey knew that he was in deep trouble, but he hated being helpless, so he told me not to see my father again.”

  “Would you have killed him if he’d hit you again?”

  “Probably not, but I would have left in a flash. That first time, he was drunk, he’d gotten a bad review on his newly released CD, Danger Floats Deep, and was really angry. That same day I got a notice from a magazine that they wanted to buy some of my photos. He was jealous, which is ridiculous, if you just think about the relative proportion of things. But it didn’t matter. Louey took his anger out on me.”

  “I don’t remember hearing a thing about Louey Santera being hurt.”

  “No, there was no coverage on it. My dad had a doctor come over and check him out. I kicked Louey out the next year.”

  “Ah,” he said. “What took you so long?”

  She sighed, realizing how easy it was to talk to him. “I wanted to try to make a go of it for Emma’s sake. Not a smart idea. Actually, when he did officially leave, it was just a formality since he’d moved out of the house and in with one of his girlfriends.” Then she laughed. “My father made sure that Louey gave me more money in the settlement than Louey even had at the time. He was royally pissed, but there was nothing he could do about it. He tried the threat again, about Emma, but I wasn’t buying it. I told him I’d kill him if he tried to take Emma, and this time, he believ
ed me.”

  “Why didn’t you see your father again? After you and your husband split up?”

  “There are two truths. The one I tell people if they ask is that Eve doesn’t want to be seen with a stepdaughter who is older than she is. And a step-granddaughter? Please.”

  “And the other truth? The real truth?”

  She began rubbing her arms. “To most people, if they’ve even heard of my father, they just think he’s a very rich successful businessman. He’s in Silicon Valley, into communications, he owns lumber mills in the Northwest, he has a chain of restaurants in the South, lots of other enterprises. He’s never been convicted of or indicted for anything. His accountants are top-notch, so he’ll never go down on a tax-evasion charge. People like you know that he’s a lot more than that. He’s a kingpin in extortion, gambling, prostitution, just about everything except drugs. He hates drugs.

  “My mother was very wise. After the divorce, she took me far away from him, all the way to Italy. I wasn’t raised with his influence. I remember how she’d cry every time she had to put me on an airplane to come to the United States, to him, for those summer months every year. I don’t want Emma near him. My mother kept me away from him and I intend to do the same for Emma.”

  “Sanction a kill. That’s what you said.”

  “You’re right. It came right out. It’s insidious, that kind of influence. Can you believe I ever want Emma to even know those words go together? A child growing up with a man like my father—I’d fear for that child and I’d be afraid of the adult that child would become. Now, that’s enough. No more for you, Mr. Hunt. I think we should get some sleep. You don’t know Emma. She’ll be awake and raring to go at six o’clock in the morning.”

  “I know. She waited until seven after I got shot in the leg. I’d wake up with this soft little hand on my forearm, just lightly stroking up and down.” He was silent a moment. “She’s a great kid, Molly.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  “We’ll keep her safe.”

  “I know we will,” she said.

  It was deep in the middle of the night when a loud piercing scream brought Molly straight up in bed.