Family in Hiding

by Valerie Hansen

  “McCall is in the car with me. I’m going to put you on speaker so he can listen, too. Okay?”

  “Fine. I’m probably going to need help from both of you.”

  Launching into as complete an explanation as she could, Grace filled the marshals in on everything that had happened since Marshal Phillips had been called away. She concluded with, “Do you know where the Galleria is?”

  “The mall near your neighborhood?”

  “Yes. That’s where Dylan is going to try to trade himself for Kyle. I don’t trust these people to keep their word under any circumstances. I can’t understand how he can.”

  “He may not,” Summers said flatly. “What he’s doing is exactly the kind of thing we always warn against.”

  Grace had to strain to hear what the woman was saying over the background noise of the car in which the marshals were traveling and the increasingly inclement weather on her end of the line. “I know. But he won’t listen to me. He thinks there’s a leak in your office and worries that would jeopardize Kyle if the information filtered back to the men he’s preparing to meet.”

  “I can see his point,” McCall replied soberly. “We both can. How much time do we have before Dylan makes his move?”

  “It’s set for seven, tonight, in front of the men’s clothing and tuxedo rental shop on the second level of the mall. He’s supposed to show up, then hang around and wait for further directions. I’d assumed the exchange would take place right there, but now that I’ve listened to myself telling you about it, I’m not so sure. What if they give him a message to go somewhere else after you’ve set a trap in the mall? How will you follow him?”

  The mumbling on the other end of the line frustrated Grace. Finally she ran out of patience and raised her voice. “Well?”

  “Does your husband have more than one pair of shoes, Mrs. Appleby?”

  “He has a pair of cowboy boots that he wears most of the time. Why?”

  “Because there’s something you need to do for us,” McCall told her. “Inside the luggage we issued to you there’s a tiny transmitter. Run your hand around the inside seams of the side pocket. When you feel something smaller than a pea and almost totally flat, that will be the tracking device. Pull it loose and hide it in the boots, then make sure he wears them tonight. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” She hesitated, deciding to be totally open and aboveboard with the pair of agents. “I plan to be there, too. We don’t have a car anymore so Dylan will have to take a cab. I’ve arranged to leave the house ten minutes after he does.”

  Hearing muttering, she added, “Don’t bother telling me I’m making a mistake or being careless. I’ve thought this through, believe me. I know the police are short-handed because of the search for Kyle and whoever took him not only knows where we live, they’ll know Dylan will be gone tonight. If the other kids and I stay here we’ll be worse sitting ducks than if we go to the mall and mingle with the shoppers.”

  “You do have a valid point,” the female marshal conceded. “However, it would be better if we sent one of our people to stay with you until this is all over.”

  “By over, I assume you mean when Dylan either succeeds or fails to get our boy back, not until after the trial for child-stealing.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re already making arrangements to move you again, farther away this time.”

  “Where to?”

  “Sorry. We can’t say yet.”

  Sighing, Grace understood completely. “The hoodlum who called said that two of my children are responsible for outing us. Is that true?”

  “It looks likely,” Josh McCall replied. “Listen. Stay put till one of us gets there. We should arrive in plenty of time to set up a sting operation and contact you again with specific instructions. Whatever you do, don’t follow your husband to the mall tonight.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d planned to do.”

  “I’d figured as much.” Grace could tell how frustrated he was becoming even before he said, “Look, Grace, we’re pretty short-handed. If we miss you at home, one of us will meet you at the mall tonight and take you and the kids into protective custody there.”

  “Okay.” Grace cast a brief, sidelong glance at the house when she heard the door bang. “I have to go. Dylan’s coming. I’ll go fix his boots right now.”

  She ended the call before anyone had a chance to say goodbye and slipped the phone into her pocket.

  “Everything okay out here?” Dylan asked, joining her.

  “Fine. Would you mind watching these two while I run into the house for a minute?”

  “Okay,” Dylan said with a soft smile. “Hurry back. I’ll miss you.”

  “Not half as much as I’ll miss you if anything happens to you tonight.”

  “Don’t go borrowing trouble,” he warned. “You know you’re supposed to ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not unto your own understanding.’”

  “Easy to quote and very hard to do,” Grace countered, stifling a shiver. “Particularly since some lowlife took my son.”

  * * *

  It was difficult for Dylan to concentrate on anything besides his upcoming meeting with the men who had snatched Kyle. He was going through the motions of a seminormal day with his family but it was all an act, both for their benefit and for his. If he allowed himself to think too deeply he started to become overly emotional. That was unacceptable. It was bad enough that Grace kept sniffling and blowing her nose.

  It was also dangerous to let his feelings take charge. The more he did that, the less chance he had of coming out of this challenge in one piece. Kyle had to be foremost in his mind and heart. Moreover, he had to concentrate on his faith; on trusting God no matter what. As long as the slightest doubt remained, it meant he was relying on himself too much.

  He saw her returning with four bottles of cool water and almost managed a genuine smile.

  “I decided I was thirsty,” she said, handing two of the plastic bottles to him. “Hold mine while I give these to the kids?”

  “Sure.”

  Dylan could not have torn his gaze from her if he’d wanted to. Every glance into those sky-blue eyes made his pulse jump. Every glint of light from her burnished red hair tugged at his heart until he thought he’d burst with pride and appreciation. And fear. Always the lurking fear.

  He placed the water in the dappled shade at the edge of the wooden back porch and sat next to it. With his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped between them, he began to twist his wedding band and think back to the day Gracie had placed it on his finger.

  They had been so young back then, so eager for a life together, that failure was inconceivable. As the children came along, their chances to spend quiet time appreciating each other had dwindled, of course, yet they had still shared their hopes and dreams until... Until when? he asked himself, realizing he had no idea what to answer.

  There had been no big arguments, no pivotal point at which they had decided to call it quits and separate; it had simply happened. Truth to tell, they had drifted so far apart he hadn’t been particularly surprised to be served with divorce papers. And then the rest of his world had come crashing down when he’d been picked up in connection with the baby-stealing racket.

  Dylan heaved a sigh. In a twisted way, it was that crisis that had caused him to step back and reevaluate his entire life. Not only had he made poor choices for even worse reasons, he had turned his back on the things he should have valued most: his family and his faith.

  Grace. Watching her toss her head and interact with the children as the wind fluttered her beautiful hair, Dylan realized this might be his last opportunity to open his heart and make her believe how penitent he was. To explain how he had done his best to turn his life around and be the kind of husband she could respect. They couldn’t go back. He kne
w that. But he desperately wanted her to know how much he loved her before...

  He could not bring himself to admit that his plan was flawed, that it might cost him dearly. Where there was life, there was hope, right? And where there was faith? Dylan slowly shook his head. It was his belief in God, his commitment to Jesus Christ, that kept reminding him of the possibility he could soon go to heaven.

  Not that he was anywhere near ready to leave this earth, he insisted, he was merely aware that anything could happen. He had prayed fervently for divine aid and believed it would come. The uncertainty lay in not knowing what form God’s assistance might take.

  Filled with conflicting emotions, he got to his feet as his wife left the children and came toward him. If he could have sent a wish list straight to Glory he would have done so, but he knew prayer didn’t work that way. As a Christian, it was his job to turn his cares over to the Lord and leave them there. Ultimately, he knew he could do that. It was what took place in the interim, what temporal choices he made, that were up to him.

  So that had to be his prayer, Dylan realized, focusing his thoughts as Grace closed the distance between them.

  Lord, help me do the right thing, the best thing for the loved ones you’ve given me.

  She hesitated only slightly before stepping into his open arms.

  Searching for tender words and finding none at the ready, he closed his eyes and did the only thing he could. He kissed his teary-eyed wife and thanked God for this time together.

  * * *

  Grace wondered why the marshals had not contacted her again if they were going to be delayed. When hours passed and she had heard nothing from them she began to get even more antsy. Naturally, Dylan noticed.

  “Settle down, honey. You’re going to wear yourself out,” he said.

  “I can’t help it. I just keep thinking about Kyle and...” Once again her voice faltered and tears threatened.

  “I know. But we need to stay calm for the sake of the other kids.”

  “They’re in the back bedroom watching cartoons on a DVD because I don’t want to scare them, but it was all I could do to let them out of my sight.” She fought hard for self-control as she eyed him from head to toe. “I laid out clean clothes for you.”

  “Why? I didn’t plan to change.”

  Her breath caught. He wasn’t wearing his boots! “I think you look handsome in your jeans and Western stuff. Why not wear that?”

  “It never occurred to me.”

  “Please?” Short of begging she had no idea how to influence the stubborn man to put on the boots with the tracking device inside. She’d thought about wedging it under the insole but had discovered plenty of room in the pointy toe so that’s where she’d stuck it. Once it was in place she’d inverted the boot and given it a shake to make sure the bug stayed put. Satisfied, she’d decided to lay out a complete change of clothes in the hope that would motivate Dylan.

  He got to his feet and stretched. “Okay, I’ll humor you, although I can’t see any reason to get all dressed up to meet a bunch of criminals. I’m sure they’ll be impressed enough when I show up at all.”

  His glib attitude made Grace angry. “Hey, if you’re going to do something this stupid you may as well look your best.”

  In the back of her mind she started to envision his photo in the news with captions like Local Man Gunned Down in Fashion Mall or Lawyer Shot Foiling Kidnapping. And they kept popping back into her mind as if they were little toy rubber balls on elastic thread and her brain was a wooden paddle to bounce them off.

  For all the good my mind is doing me right now, it might as well be a piece of dead wood, she told herself in disgust. This was the time for keen wits, not confusion and cluttered thoughts.

  Grace sighed and shook her head, staring at the doorway Dylan had passed through. There had been a time, many years ago, when she had not only chosen his suit, shirt and tie combinations, she had helped him tie a perfect knot and then straightened his collar so it lay flat.

  When had she stopped doing that? And why? Perhaps it was because Dylan had started keeping such long hours, returning home late and leaving so early that she was barely awake. His job had meant the world to him. How sad that he was no longer going to be able to practice law.

  Her wan smile appeared naturally as he returned, as fully Western as a cowboy who had just ridden a bucking bronco at a rodeo.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Fine,” Grace said, unable to counteract the somber mood that hung in the air like icy mist on a winter’s morning.

  As she watched, Dylan rechecked his silent cell phone and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Outside, a horn honked.

  “That’ll be my cab,” he said, starting for the front door.

  “Wait!” The emotional outburst slipped past her waning self-control before she could squelch it.

  Dylan stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned a quizzical expression toward her.

  “I—I want to say goodbye.”

  She closed the distance between them and reached to cup his cheeks before standing on tiptoe and giving him a heartfelt kiss.

  Over the years she and Dylan had shared many kisses, some better than others, but there had never, ever, been one that had transmitted this much sentiment. This much tenderness. This much restrained passion. He set her away. “I have to go.”

  “Bring him home to me. Promise.”

  “I will.”

  What she yearned to hear was his solemn vow that he would come back to her, too. But she could not demand that. Their son was depending upon his father to rescue him, God willing. The Lord had to be looking out for Kyle, she argued. The boy was just an innocent bystander. All he had done was lose his temper the way any child would when faced with catastrophic events over which he had no control.

  It occurred to Grace that she had done the same thing. And, even knowing it was unsuitable, she was still so mad at Dylan and so conflicted about her true feelings for him she could barely think straight.

  Dylan had thought he was helping orphans when he was actually breaking the law on behalf of a bunch of low-life crooks. Yes, he’d been wrong, but could she continue to fault him when she knew he’d thought he was doing the right thing? Making the best choices? At least that was what she now believed.

  With a heavy heart and an ache that filled her soul she watched her husband walk toward the waiting taxi. Rain was beginning to fall, as expected.

  Then, she turned away and confirmed her order for a second cab. This was it. The most important event of her life, of her family’s future, was about to take place. Was she ready?

  The queasiness in the pit of her stomach and the taste of bile on her tongue told her otherwise.

  Intestinal fortitude—and faith—carried her forward just the same. If this was to be the hour when she saw her husband suffer to give her back her son, she would face the event with courage and rely upon the Lord.

  Without her faith to fall back on she knew she would have curled up in a fetal position and given in to the fear of a mother for her son. Fear that was showing no mercy and clawing at her heart like a snarling, hungry tiger.

  NINETEEN

  Traffic had moved slower than Dylan had expected, no doubt due to the increasing severity of the storm.

  “Where to now?” the taxi driver asked when they reached the Galleria parking lot.

  “Get as close to a main door as you can so I don’t get soaked,” he replied. “That one over there looks good.”

  “Gotcha. You been watchin’ the weather radar? This is gonna be a real ripper.”

  “Terrific. Just what I need,” he grumbled, shoving a twenty at the man and telling him to keep the change.

  It was already six forty-five. He went straight to the site map kiosk to plot his course, then race
d up an interior stairway rather than take the elevator or walk to an escalator that was even farther away.

  From the railing skirting the second-floor walkway he could look down on the indoor skating rink. Above, the glass atrium had darkened and was beginning to be pelted by what looked and sounded like hail.

  He took up a position in front of the store he’d been told to seek out and checked his cell again for the time. It had taken him fewer than five minutes after leaving the cab to reach his goal.

  Now, all he could do was wait. And pray. There were no words that were adequate; no pleas as desperate as those that were unspoken and rose directly from his pounding heart to his heavenly Father.

  Dylan didn’t try to speak his prayers. He merely closed his eyes and let his wounded, burdened spirit do it for him.

  * * *

  Grace could stand it no longer. She called the marshal’s cell number. “Where are you?”

  “Setting up at the mall,” Marshal Summers said. “Your guards have been delayed. Just stay put at the house and wait for them till we tell you otherwise.”

  “No way. I’m not going to let Kyle down.” She had trouble swallowing past the cottony feel of her throat. “Tell me where to meet you and I’ll bring the kids.”

  “All right. Main entrance. There’s a covered area right outside the doors. We’ll have someone waiting there.”

  “Gotcha. On my way.”

  She folded her youngest inside her jacket to shield him and slipped a makeshift raincoat over Beth. She’d cut holes in a black plastic trash bag, then pulled it over the girl’s head. It wasn’t fashionable but it did the trick.

  Ignoring her daughter’s wails of protest over being dressed like a walking sack of trash, Grace hurried toward the honking taxi and fastened both children in the rear seat with the help of the driver. She and he were both dripping by the time they climbed into the front.

  “The Galleria,” Grace said, pushing at her bangs and flipping her head to get wet hair out of her eyes. “As fast as you can.”

  He chuckled and used a bandanna to dry his own face before putting the car in gear. “No speeding in this kind of weather, lady. Sorry. I’m real fond of living.” He patted the cab’s dash. “And so is my baby here.”