Safe and Sound

by Fern Michaels

  “I think so, too. Peter Junior seems like a nice guy. He cares about his dad, so that says a lot about Peter Senior when his son cares for him. That’s my opinion.”

  “I agree. Hey, your phone is vibrating. You want me to take the call?”

  “Sure.”

  Nikki clicked on the phone and listened. “This is Nikki, Isabelle’s friend. She’s driving. She said to tell me whatever it is you’re calling about.” Nikki listened, her eyes popping wide. “Of course I’ll tell her. Is he going to call back? Okay, okay, if he does, tell him to call Isabelle’s number again. Someone will answer it this time.”

  “What? Did something happen to Abner, to the boys? What?”

  “No, no. It’s Ben. He’s the one who called you. Then he called your office and said he ran away because he’s in danger. He said he didn’t go to school today. He said he’s at number three, and you would know where that is. He also said he didn’t know how long he could stay there. Where’s number three, Isabelle?”

  “That’s it! That’s it! What the hell is number three? Why didn’t he leave a number? Oh, my God, that kid is on the loose, and if he thinks he’s in danger, then he is. He’s only eight years old, Nikki. Eight! Oh, God, what does it mean? I have no clue what number three is,” Isabelle wailed.

  Nikki was as agitated as Isabelle but had no answers. “We’re here. We need to make this short and sweet. I’ll do the talking and you think. If Ben thinks you know what number three means, then you do know. So start thinking. Okay?”

  Isabelle nodded as she climbed out of the car to follow Peter Jr. into the Coastal Center, her thoughts all over the map.

  Meeting Peter Olsen Sr. for the first time sent shock waves through both women. He was in a world of pain, and it was evident to his son, also, who started to fuss over him. Senior waved him off. “I’m okay, Junior. They just gave me a shot, and it will kick in in a few minutes. Talk fast before I fall asleep.”

  Nikki went right into her spiel as Isabelle kneaded her hands and fidgeted in her seat. She heard everything everyone was saying, she even understood it, but her thoughts were with Ben and what “number three” meant.

  “Sign this retainer. A dollar will cement the deal,” Peter Junior said, pulling a single sheet of paper out of his briefcase. Both women signed the retainer and handed over two one-dollar bills.

  Satisfied, Senior said, “Ellie checks in once a week, never the same day or the same time. I don’t have a number for her. If I did, I’d gladly give it to you. She wanted it this way. She said it was for my own protection, so I wouldn’t have to lie for her. I agreed. When I realized that we were fighting a lost cause, I put Ellie in touch with some . . . ah . . . financial people who helped her. Eleanor Lymen, at this point in time, is a pauper. Rita and Irene, her two best friends, more like sisters, actually, were wealthy in their own right and are now doubly wealthy. Young Ben is the beneficiary of all that wealth. Originally, Diana was the beneficiary, but when she was killed, we changed everything over to Ben.

  “The firm at the time hired private detectives to watch over Ben. But after three months with no changes in the routine, we canceled them. I didn’t see any sense in throwing good money after bad. Ellie was a little upset, but the agency didn’t want to renew the contract we had with them. Young Ben is on his own, so to speak.”

  “Not really, Pop. Ben found Ms. Flanders, and they struck up a friendship. He asked her to help him find his grandmother. I think things have gone south in the Ryan household because the money stopped flowing. It’s that simple. What’s your plan, or haven’t you developed one yet?”

  Seeing Senior’s eyes start to droop, Isabelle rushed to explain about the morning calls from Ben. “We’re going to snatch him. Take him somewhere safe. You okay with that?” she asked, steel ringing in her voice.

  “Hell, yes, missy,” Senior barked. Junior nodded.

  “First we have to figure out what ‘number three’ means,” Nikki said.

  Senior clucked his tongue. “Number three is Rita’s house. It was the third one finished if you recall, Ms. Flanders.”

  “Oh, my God, you are so right! Eleanor had a champagne party that day, and we cracked a bottle over the light post at the end of the driveway. We have to leave right now,” she said, jumping up, with Nikki right behind her. “Save that boy, ladies,” Senior said, slurring his words. Junior just nodded.

  Outside, in the brisk autumn air, the two sisters looked at each other. “That went better than I expected,” Nikki said. “If the cops get around to talking to them, they won’t give up anything. I’d bet my license on it.”

  “Me too,” Isabelle said as she stared at her car. “This is going to be tricky, Nikki. The front of every house on the Circle can be seen clear as day from the front windows of the Institute by people who are on a break. Ben told me that people, mainly the instructors, like to stare out the windows at the Circle because it’s so pretty. We need to be preemptive here. I can get us in the walk-through gate since I have a key. But when we leave, there will be three of us, not two. Someone is bound to see us.

  “However, I could walk through the gate, go around, and open the drive-through gate, and you can drive through on the ring road, we pick up Ben, and drive out. The problem with that is, our license plate will be visible to anyone watching. Any ideas?” Isabelle asked.

  Nikki’s eyes sparked at the challenge. “Is that a hoodie in the backseat?”

  “Yes. I keep it in the car in case I’m on-site and it rains. Why?”

  “Put it on, keep your head down, walk through the gate, open the drive-through gate, I pick you up, and we drive to Rita’s house. Listen to this, I just had a brilliant idea. I know how to alter your license plate for the trip out.”

  “What? What?”

  “Do you have any eyeliner with you?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Your license plate has three numerals on it. There’s a one, a three, and another one. Or it might be an I, not sure. We make the ones into fours and the three into an eight. Am I a genius or what?”

  Isabelle laughed. “Five more minutes, and we’ll be there. I wonder how he got into the house. He told me he didn’t have keys to those two houses, just his grandmother’s key in the birdhouse.

  “Best guess is he broke a cellar window and crawled in that way. He wouldn’t risk the front door. There is probably an alarm of some kind, so he’d be afraid to set it off. Therefore, the only other option would be the cellar. Usually, those windows are pretty small, but a little kid could wiggle through. It’s a thought, Isabelle, nothing more.”

  “Ben is a very resourceful kid. He might only be eight, but he seems more like eighty sometimes. He’s a college student. And yet he’s still a little boy. Okay, we’re here. Let’s do it!”

  Isabelle parked a half block from the Circle. She got out and donned the hoodie while Nikki climbed behind the wheel. “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Give me five full minutes, and by the time you get there, just drive through like a bat out of hell, the gate will close right behind you, so don’t let up on the gas. Go left, and Rita’s is the first house. I’ll meet you there.”

  It all went just the way Isabelle had said it would. Nikki floored the gas, whizzed through the open gates, and made the left turn on two wheels. She broke out in a cold sweat the minute she brought the car to a full stop behind Rita Dolan’s house. She climbed out on shaky legs. Isabelle hugged her. Nikki noticed that Isabelle was shaking as badly as she was.

  “Now what?” Nikki asked.

  “It’s a given we can’t go around to the front. Let’s try the back door. We can bang on it, or if there’s a doorbell, ring it. We can’t yell or shout, someone might hear us. If that doesn’t produce any results, we’ll start thinking about the cellar.”

  As plans went, it was the best they could do.

  Inside Rita Dolan’s house, Ben heard the sound of a car engine. His heart kicked up several beats when he heard the engine cut off. He ran
to the pantry and climbed up on a stool so he could see out the window. His fist shot high in the air, and he was off the stool and running to the back door. He was so excited he could hardly breathe. He blew a kiss to Isabelle, who grinned from ear to ear.

  “I can’t go out through the doors,” he yelled. “The alarm is on. The alarm company records the times of entries and exits. Did you hear me?” Isabelle nodded.

  “I got in through the cellar. I’ll have to leave that way. Go around to the side and you’ll see the window. It’s up high, so I don’t know how I’m going to get out.”

  “Just go there now, we’ll figure something out. Careful, Ben.”

  “I’m always careful, Izzy. Thanks for coming. I was starting to get scared, but I knew in my heart that you’d come.”

  Nikki squeezed Isabelle’s arm to show she was feeling the same thing she was. A kid in need, and here they were to the rescue.

  Nikki and Isabelle made their way around the house. They walked bent over to peer through the dense shrubbery that hugged the foundation. “There it is. I almost didn’t see it,” Isabelle squealed.

  The sisters plowed through the prickly bushes until they reached the small window. She called out to Ben.

  “I’m here,” he replied. “I have to find something to put under the window. I tried jumping, but I can’t jump that high.”

  “Everyone has a ladder of some kind. It might be hanging on a hook on the wall. Look around and tell me what you see.”

  Ben whipped his Maglite about. “I can’t see anything because there isn’t anything to see. This looks like a brand-new cellar would. Connor’s basement is so full of junk, you have to step on top of stuff to get to the other side. Ooooh, wait, there is a ladder, but it’s not big. Only four steps. Five if you count the top.”

  “Can you carry it, Ben?” Isabelle asked anxiously.

  “No, but I can drag it. I can do it. No, that was wrong. I will do it. You always have to be positive.”

  The women listened as the little boy dragged the ladder across the concrete basement floor. It was an ear-grating sound. Ben was huffing and puffing, but he finally made it to the window with the ladder. He struggled to take deep breaths. Safety was just minutes away.

  “Can you get the ladder upright or is it too heavy?” Isabelle called down.

  “I think I can do it.”

  Isabelle and Nikki shouted encouragement as the little boy struggled with all his might to get the ladder in an upright position. “I did it! I did it!”

  “Good. Now spread it open and climb up. Be careful. When you get to the top, we’ll pull you through. Is the ladder shaky?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Okay, then put both feet on each step. Hold on to the sides. We can barely see you. I’m going to lean down as far as I can, and Nikki will hold on to my belt, so I don’t fall. When you see my hands, stretch yours out, and I’ll pull you the rest of the way.”

  Ben swallowed hard as he climbed, doing exactly what Isabelle had told him to do. When he saw her arms, he thought he was going to faint. He reached up. No touch had ever felt as good as those two hands gripping his wrists.

  “Holy shit!” Ben said as he tumbled to the ground. “Oooh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not allowed to use those words. My grandmother used to put soap in my mouth when I forgot. I’m up to a whole bar by now. I won’t say it again. I promise.”

  “It’s okay. I felt like saying the same thing myself. I think your grandmother will understand when you ’fess up. You will ’fess up, right?” Isabelle teased.

  “Absolutely. As long as I don’t forget,” Ben said, showing off his gap-toothed smile.

  Climbing the ladder again, Ben steadied himself on the top step, then reached once again for Isabelle’s outstretched arms. This time he managed not to fall, and Isabelle pulled him through the window onto the ground in back of Rita’s house.

  “Ben, this is Nikki Quinn; she’s one of my best friends. She’s going to help us find your grandmother.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Am I allowed to call you Nikki? That’s a nickname, right? Only friends call each other by their nicknames.”

  “Yes, you can call me Nikki. I hope you will consider me a friend,” Nikki said.

  “I do. I do. I just like to make sure so I don’t make a mistake. Sometimes one can take liberties. I haven’t been able to master the differences. You know, like when it’s okay to tell a little white lie, so no one’s feelings get hurt. That kind of thing.”

  He’s only eight years old, Isabelle reminded herself.

  “That’s all for another day. We need to get out of here, and the sooner the better. But first Nikki and I have to do something to make sure our getaway is clean.”

  Ben watched as Nikki changed the numbers on Isabelle’s license plate with the aid of her mascara brush. His jaw dropped, and his eyes popped wide. “I get it,” he chortled. “You changed it so when you drive through the gate, anyone watching from the Institute will see the license plate and possibly write it down to give to the police when they come here looking for me. That is very clever, Nikki. I can’t say I would ever have come up with that idea. It’s pure genius.”

  Nikki laughed. “And here I am, just a plain old lawyer breaking the law. Doncha just love it?”

  Ben laughed, showing that gap-toothed smile that rivaled the sun. “I don’t think I ever had so much fun doing things I’m not supposed to do with people who are doing the same thing.” He was still giggling when he climbed into the car and automatically dropped to the floor, without having to be told.

  Safe and sound. He was finally safe and sound. Three of the best words in the English language. He said them again and again as he grinned from ear to ear. He’d outwitted Connor and Natalie. He’d actually done it, and now he was safe and sound.

  Isabelle took one last look at the shrubbery to make sure the window was once again fully covered. It was impossible to see unless you stood right in front of it, and even then, it looked like a whole branch was growing right out of the window. Design was everything.

  Their exit from the Circle was as flawless as their entry. Once they hit the highway, Isabelle told Ben he could get up and to buckle up.

  “Where are we going?” Ben asked.

  “First, we’re going to my house to switch out vehicles. Then we’re going to Pinewood, where the rest of my friends are waiting for us to bring you to them.”

  “Do you think there will be any food there?”

  “Count on it. What would you like?”

  “Well, if I have a choice, I’d pick spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “Done!” Nikki said, sending off a text to Myra. She finished with, Our ETA is 1 hour.

  Ben wanted to talk to explain the circumstances, but Isabelle told him to wait till they got to the farm, so everyone could hear it at the same time. The rest of the conversation concerned Lady and her pups and how they loved kids.

  When Isabelle pulled into the driveway, Ben hopped out. “Izzy, you live in a pickle factory!”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll show you around some other time. We just came here to switch out vehicles. We’re going to take my husband’s truck and park this one in its place.”

  “I never rode in a truck before. That sure does look big. Must have a lot of horsepower under that hood.”

  He’s only eight, Isabelle reminded herself once again. “Yep. It just eats up the road. We’ll be at Pinewood before you know it.”

  Ben climbed into the back, muttering about how cool it was. When the garage door closed behind him, Isabelle heard him murmur, “A pickle factory. Who knew?” She smiled to herself, then she offered up a silent little prayer of thanks that things had gone as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

  Chapter 7

  It started to rain ten minutes into the drive out to Pinewood. The sisters and Ben made small talk about the long drive, the farm, and what Ben could expect once they arrived. Nikki told him about Myra’s service do
g, Lady, and her four pups, about Annie, who lived down the road on another farm, and how she herself lived across the field in still another farmhouse just a hop, skip, and a jump from Myra, who was her adopted mother. “In the winter, with snow on the ground, we use snowmobiles to visit Myra. In the summer, we use a dune buggy or a golf cart, providing the ground isn’t too wet. Sometimes we even walk across the field just for the exercise.”

  All Ben needed to hear were the words “adopted mother” and he was full of questions. Nikki explained her situation and was stunned when Ben said, “You sure are one of the lucky ones.” He then proceeded to tell them stories about his stepmother, Natalie, that horrified both women.

  “Let’s not talk about Natalie anymore, Ben. We’re going to take care of Natalie, believe me, so don’t give her another thought. By the way, I bought you some things. They’re in the bag next to you on the backseat.”

  The two women listened to the rustle of the bag and the tissue paper, then the boy’s exclamation of, “Holy cow! A real watch! A Mickey Mouse watch! I never had a watch before. I love it, Izzy. Thank you, thank you,” he said, fastening the watch on his thin wrist. “It fits!” he bellowed. Isabelle laughed out loud.

  “A real cell phone! I don’t believe it! I bought a burner phone last night at Rite Aid. That’s how I called you. What kind of phone is this?”

  “I bought it before I knew you’d taken it on the lam, Ben. I was going to give it to you tomorrow. See that star at the bottom? If you press the star, help will come to you right away no matter where you are. For God’s sake, don’t press it unless you’re in danger. Read the manual so you will understand how it works. I already programmed my number into the directory, along with all my friends’ numbers. The people you’re going to meet at the farm. You can ditch the burner phone or keep it in reserve, that’s up to you.”

  “A whistle! I never had a whistle. What’s it for?” He blew it, his head jerking back at the sound. Isabelle and Nikki almost jumped out of their skin at the high-pitched squeal of sound.