by Angi Morgan
“And why would we be any different?”
“Because I know how my team works. I know their standard procedures. Shoot, I wrote the procedures.”
“I have a suggestion.”
“Yeah?”
“Since the FBI assumed Rory was…um…you know.”
He could see how difficult it was for her to even think the thought. He’d experienced it himself yesterday. She needed to be held, comforted and reassured everything would be okay. But he kept his distance. He needed to think.
Swallowing hard, she continued, “Most likely they didn’t confer with anyone near my apartment. Any person there could have confirmed that Rory existed.”
“The team didn’t have a reason for interviews when they saw the death certificate.”
“Why didn’t they ask me?”
“The shrink advised against it.”
“Yeah. So much for evidence.” She pulled her arms tighter around her body, retreating further into a protective shell. “I have a…a friend. He’ll wire me as much cash as we need.”
A friend?
“Hayden won’t ask questions, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Huh?”
“There’s no reason for that look on your face. I can trust Hayden.”
The cab honked its arrival.
“Listen, we’re Winnie and Fred. Got it?” Her head bobbed up and down. He was surprised the tears filling her eyes didn’t bounce out. “And you do what I say.”
“I’m not blindly following you anywhere, Agent Woods.”
Just where she dredged up that spunk, he didn’t care. They needed it. She needed it to get through the next few days.
“There’s no debate here, sweetheart. When I say jump, you ask how high while you’re already in the air.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded his head, agreeing with himself. “Yeah, you just remember who’s in charge.”
“Sure, Fred.”
Chapter Eight
Jane had never been more scared in her life. Not for herself. But for Rory.
Every heartbeat seemed to take her farther from her son.
Every minute lessened the chance she’d ever find him.
The cheap motel walls shook each time a plane took off at Kelly Air Force Base. Even the sound of jet engines wouldn’t interfere with some sleep if Steve would just stop pacing. Back and forth. Side to side. The same short length of carpet would be even more threadbare than when they arrived.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she fell to the bed, so tired she could barely move. “Why such an elaborate scheme to make me look crazy? Who would want the FBI to think Rory was dead?”
“Don’t you get it? Someone not only wants your son, but they want to put you away for life. And, honey, in Texas, murder might make your life real short. Understand?”
“The death penalty.” Yes, she understood.
“So let’s go over it again,” he demanded. “Do you have anyone who wants you and Rory out of the picture? Who benefits from your serum if it’s not you?”
“I don’t know, Steve. I’ve told you this.” She hit the bed with her palms and sat up. “I haven’t made a will and the formula isn’t in the moneymaking stage yet, but I suppose it would all go to Rory.”
Between each question, she grew more and more certain there wouldn’t be a request for ransom. More concerned each minute she stayed awake. She needed sleep. But there was no way to rest. Not until her son was back in her arms.
With her eyes, she wearily followed Steve’s habitual pacing. Up and down from the door to the bathroom—between the full-size bed and the cheap mirror on the dresser. His reflection doubled the annoying habit.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” she asked. “If you can let my brain recharge, I’ll be able to keep up.”
“We’re missing something,” he said. “Let’s go over it again.”
At least his voice sounded tired but his actions were jerky. He held the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He was running on sugar and caffeine. They both were. She craved the weight of the covers on top of her, but she wouldn’t sleep. Logic told her she should get as much sleep as possible. She needed to rest in order to search for Rory.
If the police burst in the door at this point, she’d promise to be here in the morning if they just let her sleep for several hours straight.
“I’ve been awake since Wednesday at 5:00 a.m. It’s now sometime around two on Friday afternoon. I could determine how many hours I’ve been awake, but honestly, I don’t want to know.” She toed off each shoe, pulled back the covers and plumped the unfamiliar pillows. “Zombies have more energy than I do.”
Curling her legs between the cool sheets, stretching her back flat and laying her head on a pillow were ordinary little things. She just needed to rest her eyes. Then begin again.
“As much as I want Rory back in my arms, you’ve convinced me there’s nothing to do until we meet your friend. When you called, he said to meet him at the mall at nine. So we rest.”
To give him credit, he didn’t talk anymore. His pacing, however, didn’t slow. Attempting to block him from sight, she covered her head and heard the bathroom door open then quietly shut. The pipes rattled, signaling the use of the shower.
I sure hope he knows what to do next. They were putting their freedom at risk by avoiding the authorities.
The drums pounding in her head wouldn’t stop, and she just couldn’t speculate anymore. The headache was partly from exhaustion, partly from thinking so hard, and partly from questioning everything that had happened. She’d been set up, but by whom?
She didn’t have enemies. Nor friends—other than Hayden. And he didn’t need her formula. Hayden Hughes came from a long line of old money and didn’t need to work at all.
Friends had been a void in her life from the time she could recite everything read or taught to her. No playgroups for Mom and Dad’s special girl. No lasting friendships, no family, no terrific teachers, no nothing except one move after another.
Well, Rory would have more. She’d brought him back to Dallas to meet his family. All of it, whether Steve liked it or not. Rory had a birthright and needed grandparents. She wouldn’t demand Steve change his life, she couldn’t ask that.
And as for Rory, nothing made sense. Who would want to take him from her?
Calm down. Sleep. Things had to be better when she could think clearly and use her brain to get out of this mess. Like her mother had constantly warned, her emotions interfered with logic and had to be kept at bay.
The room phone lay on the table next to the bed. Steve had specifically said not to contact anyone, but what happened if he changed his mind or if his team believed the death certificate was real? Who could help her?
Hayden.
Her fingers quickly tapped the keypad by memory. “Collect from Jane. Come on, Hayden. Pick up.”
“Yes, I’ll accept. Hello?”
The familiar voice brought a warmth to her inside she hadn’t felt since returning from the store to find men in her apartment.
“I don’t have time to completely explain, Hayden. I need you to contact the FBI and verify that you know Rory was alive when I last saw you.”
“Jane? What’s happened? I don’t understand.”
“Rory’s been kidnapped.” The sound of a friendly, caring voice was enough for the tears to build in her eyes again.
“Oh, my God, who would do something like that? What do they want? Do you need money? I can leave Baltimore and be there in a matter of hours.”
“I don’t know why this is happening, Hayden.”
“Why do you need me to verify Rory’s alive, Jane? Where are you?”
“It’s too complicated. Rory was taken to San Antonio. We’re meeting someone who can help us later tonight at a mall.”
“Who’s we? Are you with Rory’s father?”
“Yes. Steve’s helping me. I can’t explain.” She could understand his frustration. Sh
e heard the water shut off. “Please, I’m begging you, contact the FBI and tell them about Rory. I have to go.”
She placed the phone gently on the receiver and pulled the covers over her shoulder.
The door opened and closed again.
“I’m too tall to sleep in the bathtub.”
If she ignored him, maybe—just maybe—he’d assume she was asleep.
“You gave yourself away by holding your breath before you decided to pretend you were out. This isn’t up for discussion. It’s a warning. I’m coming out of this bathroom in my shorts and climbing into that bed.”
Exhausted, she was determined to force herself to sleep. She’d never find Rory if her mind couldn’t focus. She kept her eyes closed tight. At least that was what she kept telling herself to do even when she peeked at Steve’s long legs and bare chest.
AFTER HE’D CRAWLED INTO BED, he’d finally managed a deep sleep. Between listening to every car door in the parking lot and consciously knowing Jane’s luscious body lay next to him, it was difficult to close his eyes.
It was evening. Proof of it shone through the window where the privacy curtains overlapped. A streetlight beam fell directly across Steve’s face, causing him to squint his eyes shut.
A steady stream of fighter planes shook the building until he wanted to protect his head when the roof caved in. But it held together and normal traffic sounds came through the walls.
Attempting to stretch into action, he realized he was lightly pinned on his right side. Sometime during their rest, he’d wrapped Jane in his arms. Or she’d laid her head on his chest. Either way it didn’t matter. She was tensing by the millisecond so she must be awake.
She scampered away from him toward the edge of the bed, pulling most of the sheet with her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You still have all your clothes on.” He gave the top blanket a gentle tug in the direction of his lap. “I, on the other hand, do not.”
He didn’t want her to notice what she did to him. But he didn’t have long to worry. Without a word, she slid off the bed and retreated to the bathroom.
“Nice waking up next to you, too, beautiful,” he said when he heard the door shut behind her.
God, he missed her. Digging into work had filled the empty time he’d never noticed until after Jane was gone. It was stupid to think he was whole again. In all this mess, he didn’t have the right to think of her in a physical way, but he just couldn’t get her out of his head.
It took some doing, but he pulled on his jeans. He walked to the Texaco station across the street and bought two cups of coffee. At the last minute he remembered the two creams and sugars for Jane, hoping she still took it that way.
Standing in the laundry at the corner of the building, he waited several minutes before making his way back to the room. He was fairly certain no one had caught up with them yet—friend or foe. But it was only a matter of time. He’d trained George and eventually his team would check on Jane’s story.
Eventually. But no one had checked yesterday and someone’s pay increase would be forfeit for that major mistake.
Jane sat on the edge of the bed in front of the TV finger-combing her hair when he entered their room again. The action stirred something deep within him. A memory of the first time they’d made love. Jane had showered and combed her hair the same way.
Until he’d tossed his brush in her lap.
That had been the beginning. Were they coming full circle to start again? Or were they on the verge of the end?
“Thanks,” she said as he handed her the foam cup.
“I thought we’d hit the mall food court before we meet Rhodes.”
“What’s wrong with meeting him here? Besides the frequent fly-bys and thin-as-toilet-paper walls?”
“Rhodes has a place and should have a computer. We can’t stay here long. It’s only a matter of time until they track us.”
“Right, I know how thorough your team is.” She took a long slurp of coffee.
“Come on, Jane. Give me a break here.”
She pointed the remote toward the TV and turned up the volume. “You’re as big a celebrity as I am now.”
His picture—a very drab FBI head shot taken years ago when his hair was academy-length short and he looked like a bald rooster—appeared in the corner of the screen as the news anchor said, “…was on medical leave. They’re unsure if Palmer and her accomplice have abducted Agent Woods or if he is with them voluntarily.”
A string of words his mother would have fainted upon hearing from his mouth blurred together and only “stupid McCaffrey” escaped.
“Why is he stupid? Now he has the entire state looking for us.”
“Yeah! Right!” He couldn’t seem to make his mouth work. His parents were going to freak. Kidnapped? On the run? He’d have to get a message to them soon. “Did McCaffrey try to call me and see what was going on?”
“Like you would have answered your phone between jumping over fences and mowing the lawn in your boots?” She giggled. “Besides, I saw you leave it so your team would find the Brant child sooner.”
“We’ll have to pick up a prepay phone at the mall.” It was good to see her smile. “So, he still didn’t try.”
“What are your plans?” She pointed the remote and clicked off the news. “Where do we start? Do we dye our hair and get you a fake beard?”
“Sleep does you wonders.”
So she wanted to get down to business. She was right. Had he really expected concern or sympathy? Yeah, he had. He wasn’t thinking with the brain he’d trained to react quickly to the facts presented to him. Nope, he was allowing other parts of his anatomy to lead him around.
Gulping the last bit of his coffee, he stood straight and chucked the cup into the trash can two feet away from Jane’s sexy legs. Down to business. Yeah, right.
Easier said than done.
The ache to capture Jane’s mouth under his caused him to swallow hard. Several times. But he managed to get the feeling compartmentalized. Right now he focused on finding the perps who’d framed Jane and kidnapped her son.
“You aren’t going to like this.” He sat on the corner of the dresser. “I need to call Agent Stubblefield.”
“No.”
“Yes. She helped us get away this morning. We can give her Hughes’s number and she can confirm that Rory is alive. I need to find out if they’ve traced the money. We don’t have a choice. We need their technology.”
“I don’t trust them.”
“It’s the fastest way to find Rory. The FBI has countless resources—”
“That didn’t do them a bit of good yesterday.”
“Arguing won’t get us anywhere.”
“How could you have thought I was crazy?” Her voice was filled with hurt and anguish.
“Whoa. The team did, but for the record, I never believed what the shrink said.”
“Why not?”
He could tell her everything that had gone through his mind.
“They presented a rock-solid case for the team. The shrinks said you were delusional. That your need to have Rory alive had grown so great that you kidnapped a boy and came to me for help.”
“And you didn’t believe them?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t. You didn’t need me when you found out you were pregnant. And only came to me in a roundabout way when Rory was kidnapped.” Where had that come from? She turned her back to him, but he could tell she swiped at her eyes. He felt two feet tall.
As quickly as the tears came, they were gone.
When had she become this emotionless, detached robot? The woman he knew had been happy, full of life and energy. Had the past couple of years made her shut down? Or was it just being around him? Maybe she was angry enough not to allow her emotions to get in the way.
Maybe he should force himself to do the same? But every time he looked at her, something reminded him of what they’d had and made him crave it again.
She flipped her hair and f
luffed. The subject was officially changed. He loved the soft ringlets and curls left when she let it dry naturally. If things were different, Jane would be worried it made her look too young.
He wished things were different. Then maybe they could try to patch things up. Or start over. But that might be hard considering she was a mother.
“I asked Hayden to call the FBI.”
“You did what?” He saw red. Or green. He was unable to differentiate whether his anger stemmed from her initiative or the fact that she’d asked Hayden for help. “Is Hughes the father?”
“No,” she said quickly but took a long pause before continuing. “He’s only a friend who can verify Rory was alive two weeks ago. We need to know who forged Rory’s death certificate. Right? So when do we meet your friend Rhodes? I could use that computer.”
“Soon, but what makes you think—”
“I can break into Maryland county records. It won’t be that big a deal.”
“That big a deal? Oh, sure, we’re wanted for kidnapping and God only knows what else. What’s a little hacking into government files?”
Rest really had done her good. She didn’t flinch at his tantrum, didn’t even blink an eye. She’d already set a plan in motion and they were about to see it through. She pulled her shoes on, the ones he’d found after looking in two Walmart stores for her size.
“Do you have sources that might help trace the money? Other than your team at the FBI. Know any hackers?”
“Sure, but—”
She was smiling. At least with her mouth, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had her own agenda and apparently felt more confident.
“If I call Hayden again, he can have a computer genius we know work on it from his end.”
“We can’t involve more people.”
“We should be able to find Rory, Steve. We don’t need your friends at the FBI.”
Ouch. That stung. Even if she were right, he had to call his team. He had to let someone in authority know all the craziness that was happening.
“You use your hacker. I’ll give Stubblefield a call.” Her jerk to attention told him she didn’t like his compromise. “We have to prevent an out-and-out manhunt, Jane. Deal?”
