by Riser, Mimi
“No. And, though I understand your reasoning, I don’t think the kidnapper is Farrell. Not because I think he’s above this sort of thing, but because I’m damn sure Molly is. And he couldn’t pull off the deal without her help. I also think this was a spur-of-the-moment scheme, not planned. Someone saw an opportunity and grabbed it. But I agree that it’s someone who knows about your diamonds – which narrows the field of suspects – and also that he has an accomplice. And I think you’re dead right on the motives. Greed and revenge. If you want to make certain about Farrell though, just compare this fax with one of his reports and see if the handwriting matches.”
Tyler sighed again. He’d already thought of that. He wasn’t a complete idiot, for godssake. “I can’t. I always shred his reports after I read them. You know that.”
“Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry.” Barry squinted at the fax. “Well, then—”
“Yes, I tried calling him. His cell, his home phone, and his office. Three strikes. He’s out. Which he would be, of course, if he’s here. And his cell might not work if he’s at the dugout – not that he’d answer even if it did. I left him an obscene message on his voicemail.”
“He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure,” Barry said. “But that wasn’t what I was going to suggest. Did you try the number the fax came from?” He waggled his brows.
Tyler felt proud of himself for not smacking him. “I really hate it when you do that. And, no, I didn’t try the fax number. What was I supposed to do, fax him back a confirmation?”
He shot another glance at the clock. Beanpole had thirty seconds to make his point. “I did look at the number,” he added quickly. “It’s nowhere I recognized.”
“You would if you spent more than a few weeks a year here. It’s the in-house line, the one you never use because you prefer shouting for people. This fax was sent from the Green Room. Which is now red and gold, by the way, since Bambi redecorated. It looks like an eighteenth-century cathouse on acid. Have you seen it recently? The waterbed is the best part.”
Tyler knew that. His feet stuttered to a stop midway between the desk and the door. The nine minutes were up and he’d been striding out, full steam ahead, with nary a word or a backward glance, when Barry’s info threw a monkey wrench into his works. He should have realized the fax came from inside. They already knew the kidnapper had been in the house. How else did he get Stevie?
The kicker was the room it came from. One more clue for his con theory. If Farrell had been skulking about the property today, waiting to pounce, he could have stumbled onto the dugout easily enough, but he wasn’t familiar with this mansion. Neither was Molly, but if she’d wanted to give him directions anywhere inside, that was one room she knew.
Tyler’s chest constricted at the memory of what they’d done there. The doubt flickered again. Even to him, the clues were starting to sound flimsy. Hell, maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe he was looking for reasons to blame her.
Because she’d gotten under his skin too deeply, too fast? Blaming was so much easier than caring, after all. So much safer than trusting.
Maybe he was angry she’d hoodwinked him into signing that damn contract, which left things so uncertain between them. Or did he feel it made things too certain? He hadn’t held out much hope she’d stay once the terms of that contract were completed. Maybe he was trying to hurt her before she hurt him three months from now.
And maybe he should—
“I think we should check out the Not-Green Room before the dugout,” Barry said.
He’d pulled the thought right out of Tyler’s head, but… “We?”
Barry stood up and moved around the desk to join him. “You didn’t think I was going to let you go alone, did you?”
He rested his hands on Tyler’s shoulders.
Tyler shrugged him off and headed for the door. “Do I look like I’ve gone soft to you? One lousy kidnapper, whoever it is, I can handle.”
“Hey, a dozen kidnappers I’m sure you can handle. Though I think it’s only one – or two, if you count his accomplice – and I’d like a crack at him myself, but I’ll leave that honor to you, if you insist. You wanna do the dugout alone, go for it. Have fun. I meant I’m tagging you to Waterbed Haven. Trust me, you will need my support there if its current guest is home.”
Tyler paused, his hand on the doorknob. He smelled it coming.
“That’s where Bambi is staying.”
Muscles tensed, and the doorknob ripped out of its mooring. Clutching it in a white knuckled grip, Tyler sank forward. His forehead hit the closed door with a hollow thud.
“She is the kidnapper’s accomplice, I believe,” Barry added. “Which most likely makes the kidnapper her dirtbag boyfriend—”
“Vinnie Smart,” Tyler said on a sigh.
“Who is very dumb,” Barry finished, while prying the knob out of frozen fingers.
“That makes two of us.” Tyler braced a hand on each side of the doorframe and banged his head a few times against the solid wood in front of him. He should have figured this, the way Bambi had been coming on to him. He would have figured it if he hadn’t been so dead-set determined to think the worst of Molly.
Carlotta’s crew had flown in by private jet, but it would have been easy enough for Vincent Not-So-Smart to grab a commercial flight to Lubbock, then rent a car to meet Bambi here at the Ranch. They both knew the property. They both hated its owner. They both went through money like it was water, and neither liked to work for it. Although Bambi might dispute that claim.
During the screaming bout that preceded their divorce, she’d insisted she worked damn hard at her wifely duties, which to her meant nothing more than putting on a good show in the bedroom. After she popped her pills, of course. Her “allergy meds,” she called them. It had taken him awhile to realize she was simply allergic to sobriety.
Unfortunately, she’d worked even harder at trying to seduce every male member of his staff. A lazy chauffer named Vinnie was the only one stupid enough to respond. Vinnie got the sack. Bambi got a divorce, plus a generous settlement to go with it. She hadn’t deserved it, but it was the simplest way to get her out of his hair.
She had the dubious distinction, in fact, of being the only one of Tyler’s wives he had filed on. The other five had filed on him, generally claiming “psychological abuse” – he was impossible to live with apparently. Looking at it coldly, if the drugs hadn’t disgusted him, and his ego could have tolerated the infidelity, Bambi might have been perfect for him because she made no emotional demands. She was just in it for the money and the kicks.
“Just like you, Tyzie,” she’d taunted.
Maybe it was the thought she could be right that had bothered Tyler the most about her. Maybe that last fiasco of a marriage had been his wake-up call, the thing that had started him wondering if he might be the one who wanted more from a relationship than kicks.
There sure were a lot of maybes tonight, weren’t there? A hell of a lot of questions. The most pressing one being whether Molly would forgive him for doubting her. No, he hadn’t accused her to her face. He hadn’t said anything to her. That was the problem. She must suspect something was up, given the way he’d shoved her into the boys’ suite and locked her in…like he was locking her out of his life.
He banged his head on the door a few more times.
Barry’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Ty, you can beat yourself up later, okay? In case you’ve forgotten, we still have a little boy to find.”
Shit!
He hadn’t forgotten exactly, just been…momentarily distracted.
Tyler jerked back. He’d been thinking of the kidnapping as a con, meaning Stevie wasn’t in actual danger. If Vinnie was involved, however… His stomach cramped and his hands hardened into fists.
The grip on his shoulder tightened, as he made ready to kick through the door he’d inadvertently sealed by breaking off its knob.
“Whoa. Before you play storm trooper, let me see if I can fix it.” Barry
knelt to slide the doorknob’s snapped rod back into its slot.
Tyler checked his watch. It was almost 12:30. “We don’t have time for that.”
“We do if my hunch is correct. Chill. Just think a moment.”
No. He’d been thinking too much recently and it was getting him into all kinds of trouble. But to kick through the door now, he’d have to first kick through his assistant. Tyler did consider that option.
Unaware of the vulnerability of his posterior, Barry fiddled with the knob as he spoke. “The time factor is the whole key to this thing. And the diamonds. What do you keep handy in diamonds? Only a million or so, right? Mere pocket change to you. Anyone who knows about them, knows that. So why would kidnappers demand so little when they must know they could get so much more?”
Tyler gritted his teeth. He might have been wrong about the who, but not all his conclusions were wrong.
“Because they don’t want me to have time to react. They are in a rush.” He crouched to breathe down Barry’s neck. “So am I.”
“Hey, man, I’m not the one who broke it. Cool your jets. I’ve almost got it.”
Beanpole had no idea how close he was to getting it.
Tyler didn’t cool.
Barry kept fiddling.
And talking.
“They’re obviously rushing, but I don’t think it’s to give you less time. If it’s Vinnie and Bambi, they know you can move fast under any circumstances. Besides, that kind of reasoning is a little beyond them. I’m betting the rush is because they don’t have much time. If I’m right, they don’t even have the kid.”
“What?”
“Think about it, Ty. If Stevie was grabbed out of the suite, why didn’t they take all three boys?”
“Because they could only carry one?”
“Mmm, it’s possible. But the dog and cat are missing, too. And speaking of the dog, if there was a kidnapper in their suite, why didn’t Fluffy bark? That leads me to suspect that Stevie just went off on his own for some reason. Maybe the animals got out, and he went to look for them. Or he got hungry and decided to raid the kitchen, or simply thought it would be fun to prowl around while everyone else was asleep. Who knows? Kids do stuff like that sometimes. I know I did.”
So had Tyler, but not for fun. Steve Sr. had been a sleepwalker when he was little, and big brother had spent many a night tracking him down and leading him back to bed.
Was sleepwalking an inherited trait? Could that be what happened here?
Tyler rose from his crouch, thinking. He had to admit the idea made sense. Barry might be right. Again.
“So, what you’re saying is that Bambi – or Vinnie, if she managed to sneak him into the house – saw Stevie wandering around, guessed we didn’t know he wasn’t in bed, and sent the ransom note hoping to collect before we discovered he hadn’t really been stolen.”
It did sound like the kind of stunt Bam-Bam and Ding-Dong might think they could get away with. Neither one was exactly a Rhodes scholar. When he’d refused Bambi’s earlier advances, they might well have leapt on this as an alternate scheme for money. There was just one detail that bugged him – besides the detail that a young boy might be sleepwalking about in a huge estate full of pitfalls, like pools to drown in and balconies to fall off.
God…
Tension tightened Tyler’s voice. “Why would they pick Molly to deliver the ransom?” Only one thought popped to mind. “Because she’s the least likely person to recognize Vinnie?”
He hoped.
“I wish,” Barry said.
And the hope died. Tyler guessed what was coming before the next words were out.
“But that’s where my point about the diamonds comes in. We do have a kidnapping to worry about, and revenge is part of it. It just hasn’t happened yet. When Bambi ambushed you tonight, you told her about Molly, right? Knowing Bam-Bam, I’m sure she’d love to get her claws in the woman who she probably feels cut her out of a chance to slide back into your wallet. I think they were planning on grabbing Molly when she made the diamond delivery and holding her for a bigger ransom.”
Except Molly wouldn’t be delivering anything. Tyler let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief flooded through him. Thank God. He’d done it for the wrong reason, but he’d done the right thing. If Barry was correct on all this, and he probably was, the real intended victim was safe and would stay safe.
And…well, it might be a bit of a prevarication, but he now had a reasonable explanation to offer for why he’d locked her in. He’d just dodged not one, but two very big bullets.
He raked his hands through his hair, deciding the next move. “Okay, forget the Green Room excursion. Even if Bambi’s there, there’s nothing I can pin on her at the moment, except sending a threatening fax, which she could claim was just a bad joke.” Ha-ha. “We’ll deal with her later. You need to organize a house search for Stevie, fast. I’ll tackle the dugout and dropkick Vinnie back here.”
“Right. I’ll be waiting by the goalposts.” Barry hauled upright and gave the knob an experimental twist. “Fixed. Told you I could do it.”
The door clicked open a crack, and Tyler suddenly hesitated. So did Barry because a buzzing sounded from the desk. An outside call. Not an unusual occurrence for the office of a man who had investments in every time zone. Calls came through at all hours.
With a sigh, Barry moved to answer it. “Under the circumstances, I’d better get that – just in case. You go ahead. Say hi to Vinnie for me.”
Tyler still hesitated, staring at the door and thinking about the one who stood just beyond it across the hall. Molly was behind that other door, undoubtedly worrying about the missing boy and probably pissed-off as all hell at him, and with good reason. If he was smart, he’d take a few minutes to unlock that door and talk to her, let her know what was happening.
But he didn’t really have a few minutes, and he’d been so stupid before, it was hard to be smart now. He was scared, that’s what he was. Scared to face the censure in those blue-green eyes. No time and no guts. And if they were right about this situation, she was safer where she was.
If they were wrong, he really didn’t have the time, because Stevie could be in real danger. And Molly was still safer out of it. So that was that. He’d take his chances with her later. He had three months to gain her forgiveness. She’d signed that contract as well as him, and he could hold her to it. He’d hold her. For three months at least. If that was all the time he had, he’d make good use of it.
Behind him, he heard Barry’s voice, bright and oh-so chipper. Smart-ass.
“Hey there, George. We were just talking about you… Oh. You got his message, huh?… No kiddin’, he said that? Well, you know how creative he can be… Sure, I’ll tell him… Really? Interesting… Yeah, I’ll tell him that, too… Right. Catch ya later.”
A click sounded as the phone’s receiver hit the cradle. Footsteps padded across the carpet, and Barry joined him at the door, his expression curiously blank.
“That was Farrell.”
Tyler tamped down his impatience. “So I figured. Calling to return my creative message, was he?” He managed a good facsimile of Barry’s brow waggle.
Barry didn’t seem to notice. He reached for the doorknob and stood there holding it as if he’d forgotten how it worked. “Um, yeah. Sort of. He said he appreciates your suggestion, but he believes it’s anatomically impossible. However, he invited you to try it yourself to make sure of that.”
“He would.” Tyler smiled, grimly. “Well, this is definite proof you were right about him. He wouldn’t be calling if he were here.”
Barry gazed at his feet a second, then his eyes flashed back up, cold as glass, sending a chill straight down Tyler’s spine. “Actually, I’m not so sure of that anymore. He was calling from his cell – I saw the number on the display. And…” He swallowed. “I heard coyotes in the background. Kinda odd for a guy who lives in the city. Unless it was off a TV maybe?”
&
nbsp; Did they want to take that chance?
Dead silence struck the room.
Tyler thought for a moment he’d gone deaf, then he heard his own voice – “Shit!” – and a crash as Barry pulled open the door so hard it slammed back against the wall and the knob came off in his hand. He tossed it aside, and the two of them nearly cracked the doorframe as they bulled through it, side-by-side.
Then stopped.
Staring.
At the open door across the hall.
Double shit.
Tyler charged into the boys’ suite, knowing what he would find. Nothing. Molly was gone. So were Jeremy, Josh, and the bird, all four of them taken flight.
Numbness settled over him like a lead shroud.
I was right about her?
He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to be right, not this way.
Moving like a deep-sea diver on the ocean floor, he walked back into the hall. Barry shoved his cell phone into his hand, and closed his fingers around it when Tyler couldn’t seem to grip it.
“Ty, it’s Wilson, from Security. I just called him, but he wants to talk to you.”
Swell. Tyler didn’t want to talk to Wilson, didn’t want to talk to anyone just then, but he was the boss. If there was a crisis, he had to give the orders. Besides, he was a man, a big, strong, tough man. Tough guys didn’t break over stuff like this. He blinked a sudden moisture out of his eyes – must be dust (damn worthless housekeeping staff) – and listened to the gruff voice on the other side of the connection.
Uh-huh. Well, at least he knew where she was. Approximately. Now if he could just muster together enough brain cells to figure out what to do about it.
He returned the cell to Barry. “It seems Molly knows how to crack safes. Either that or she really is magic. She’s taken off with my diamonds. Wilson says she was last seen crossing the airfield, wearing jeans and a black shirt. That was about ten minutes ago. He thinks she’s heading for the prairie. Security just sent a team after her.”
Barry cleared his throat. “Ahem…there was something else Farrell told me to tell you. Why, I don’t know, unless he’s trying to divert suspicion from himself by playing business-as-usual. Since you buzzed him tonight, I suppose he figured he’d better return the call.”
