“I don’t think there’s anything in it, but...”
“Brian says he’s staying here with Shannen when we move out. I can’t wait to see you pull that one off, buddy.” Doug hid a grin behind the soda can he drank from.
Like Doug, Rhone knew Shannen wouldn’t take staying behind lying down. He couldn’t say he blamed her; he wouldn’t, either. But for her safety she had to.
“Any idea when you’re heading out?” Brian asked, entering the room.
Rhone shook his head. “When I get the first piece of reliable information.” Taking a cup of coffee, he went into the living room and started culling through the file. Service record. Academy grades. Instructor remarks. Personal information.
Aware of the sounds of Shannen moving about above him and her restless need to have her child back, he gave a cursory glance to each piece of information. He winced when his own name showed up, along with the fact he might have been one of ten to put the fatal bullet in Norton’s hideous hide.
Rhone flipped to the bottom of the information, reading Norton’s family history: a twin brother, deceased parents, divorced, no children.
Then Rhone spotted it.
Norton had owned a cabin in Colorado. Undoubtedly, neglect to pay the taxes had long since forfeited ownership—not that Jimmy would care. Or Rhone. The cabin was a link, the first viable lead they’d had.
Shannen joined him on the couch, taking a sip from his coffee. “What?” she asked.
Doug and Brian echoed her question.
Rhone glanced up at their expectant expressions. “Jack owned a cabin near Winter Park.” Taking the report with him, Rhone met Doug at the map they’d placed on the wall days before.
Colored dots marked the locations where anonymous tips had indicated Norton’s location. They were scattered all over the state. While the televised report had been painful to face, it had opened a door in the investigation, though nothing had panned out.
“Here it is—roughly fifty to sixty miles northeast,” Doug said, marking the location of Jack’s cabin.
“Then let’s go,” Shannen said, her excitement communicating through the grip she held on Rhone’s arm.
“He’s not there,” Rhone said quietly, continuing to stare at the map.
“But...”
“It’s too easy. Norton would expect us to look there.”
“We have to check it out,” Doug inserted.
Rhone nodded, turning. “Tell Cox and the others to be ready to move in thirty minutes. I think it’s a waste of time and manpower, but you’re right. We’ve got to check it out.”
Doug headed for the back door.
“I’ll finish loading the Jeep Cherokee,” Brian said, trailing after Doug.
The fax machine spit out a sheet of paper. Shannen collected it, adding it to the stack that had already come through. She carried the papers back to Rhone, reading as she walked.
“Anything?” Rhone asked, more than willing to delay telling her she wouldn’t be going with them.
She reread the paper. “State Patrol had to break off the high-speed pursuit of a white truck when lives were endangered. Norton?” she asked.
“Possibly.” Rhone saw her flinch. “Norton knows the chase is on,” he continued, “and he’d be in a hurry to get back to wherever he’s holed up.”
Rhone saw the expression of anticipation on Shannen’s face. “Shan, listen, don’t get your hopes up.”
“This is it, Rhone. I know it.”
So did he. Couldn’t have explained how he knew it, but there it was. Heartbeats increased, indicating an adrenaline rush. The same feeling—instinct—that warned of imminent danger, the internal warning he’d cultivated, respected and trusted.
Norton had made himself known because he wanted to up the stakes. Obviously, he tired of the game, just like Rhone. It was time for a victor to emerge.
Rhone would be it.
And he would have his son safe, too.
Shannen thrust the papers at him. “I’ll get Nicky’s stuff,” she tossed over her shoulder as she dashed up the stairs.
With reluctance, and feeling like the coward he was, Rhone followed his wife. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “There’s something you should know.”
She didn’t stop long enough to look at him.
“Shannen, you’re not going.”
She stopped then, pinning him with a stare that made him wonder if their intimacy had been real at all. “Rhone, you’ve shut me out of everything for long enough.” She jerked open a zippered duffel bag. “Just try and stop me.”
He closed the distance in a few strides and took her shoulders between his palms.
“Get your hands off me.”
“Shannen, listen to me.”
“Don’t patronize me. I won’t stand for it.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Security.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I can’t go because it’ll threaten security.”
“Well, that’s—”
“I fell for that line too many times to count. Now take your hands off me.”
“Security has nothing to do with this.”
She arched a brow. “No?”
Rhone fought for courage to admit the truth. “I’m the one who has everything to do with this decision, and I’m not willing to risk your getting hurt.” He knew the admission made his voice scratchy. Gruff. “I care about you too much.”
“That’s nice.”
He’d done it—exposed his innermost fears, only to have her throw them back in his face.
“I’m going to find my son, and you’re not going to stop me.”
“The hell I won’t.”
“Rhone, get your hands off me.”
With a ragged exhalation, he did. “It’s for your own good,” he said, helplessly dropping his hands to his sides.
“I’ll make that decision.”
“I won’t fight over this.”
She shoved Nicky’s belongings and her own into a canvas bag and met his gaze. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
Knowing the battle wasn’t over, he went back downstairs and started to fill a thermos with coffee.
“Didn’t go too well?” Doug surmised, obviously interpreting Rhone’s dark expression and the reason for it.
Rhone shook his head.
“Can you really blame her?” Doug asked. “In her position, would you stay behind?”
“That’s different. You know as well as I do anything can happen. This is Jimmy Norton we’re dealing with. Whatever he dreams up next is limited only by his demented imagination. I don’t want Shannen any closer to him than she’s already been. I want her here. Where she’ll be safe.”
Doug shrugged, inclining his head toward the door. “Convince Shannen, not me.”
Rhone looked up. Shannen’s unyielding expression dared him to try. His glance swept over her. She’d traded canvas shoes for leather boots that gave the illusion of lengthening her legs. In jeans and V-neck sweater, he decided she was the most incredibly sexy woman he’d ever known. It wasn’t that the clothes she wore enhanced her femininity, but more the other way around.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said softly. “But I’m a grown-up, capable of making my own decisions.” With an expression that begged for his understanding but promised a fight, she added, “Please respect the fact I know what I’m doing.”
Damn, he wished all this was behind them. Wished all the ugliness was forgotten so they could begin a new life. Together. With their son. Then the thought occurred to him that if he was lucky, very, very lucky, maybe they had made a baby brother or sister for Nicky. If they had, surely Shannen wouldn’t be too quick to toss Rhone out of her life.
The realization that asking him to leave remained a possibility ate at him. Shortened a temper already stretched to the breaking point. He cast another glance to the bags at her feet. A breath hissed between his teeth. “Leave one,” he commanded. “Tra
veling light is essential.”
Shannen nodded at Brian, who hovered nearby. “Take them both.”
“I said—” Rhone began.
Shannen shook her head and moved forward, purpose in every step. In front of Rhone, she stopped, speaking for his ears only. “I have no idea what to expect when we find Nicholas. Undoubtedly, he needs clean clothes, blankets, diapers. Maybe food, medicine, I don’t know, but by God, I do know I will be prepared to meet his needs.”
You selfish fool. Have you forgotten this isn’t only about protecting your wife but also about rescuing your son?
“You’re right,” Rhone admitted. He gave a concise nod to Brian, who lifted Shannen’s bags and headed for the door.
Following, Rhone waited while Shannen locked up. “All set?” he asked when she turned, pocketing the key.
“Not quite.”
“Did you forget something?”
“No, but I think you have. I want to make something perfectly clear, Rhone Mitchell. There will be no more secrets like your little plan to leave me here. As a part of this operation to get our son back, I deserve to know what’s going on. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not a child. I will not be treated like one. I’ve been patient up to this point, staying in the background, letting you guys plot and plan, but no more. Either you include me completely or, I swear, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“The hell you will,” Rhone exploded.
“Try me.”
Standing toe-to-toe, he couldn’t help but admire her spunk, but this time she was way out of her league. Damn woman. Rhone rolled his eyes skyward. Give me strength, he prayed silently. He didn’t doubt for a minute that out of blind desperation she would follow through with her threat. Terrifying thought.
Out of understanding, his anger subsided. He reached out, lightly running the back of his hand over her cheek and jaw. He felt her tension ease, too, having made her point, as she tilted her head into his palm, accepting the casual caress. Too bad he couldn’t successfully lock her in her house where she couldn’t bring harm to herself—or anyone else trying to protect her.
He sighed. Along with independence, his wife had obviously mastered the art of coercion. He put his hand on the small of her back as they headed toward the Jeep.
“Shan, this is no friendly camp-out where the wildlife is the only danger.”
He felt her tremor and knew the cause was more than the night’s chill in the air.
“I know that,” she said.
“You asked me to respect that you’re fully aware of what you’re doing. I do. Know that I want you to stay behind for your safety and my peace of mind.”
“I do respect your concerns, Rhone.”
“But you’re not going to be dissuaded.”
“No.”
With that, she climbed into the front seat. Getting in beside her, he immediately felt the closeness in the crowded vehicle and lowered the window halfway. Damned unfortunate, he thought, that there wasn’t a pill he could take to make the claustrophobic nightmare disappear, or diminish the terror that confining spaces induced.
While he drove, Rhone sensed Shannen’s worry, her fear. He reached over to take her hand, enfolding frigid fingers within his grasp. “We’ll find Nicky. Soon. Norton’s getting antsy. He’s ready to lay his cards on the table.”
“Instinct?”
He nodded.
“Good enough for me. I trust you.”
Simple words. Yet they spoke volumes. How many people, Rhone wondered, truly understood or felt the meaning of those three words when they exchanged their vows? But then, how many could possibly know to what extremes the promises they gave to one another would be tested? And could they be held responsible, or even blamed, if those extremes were more than they could handle?
He gave Shannen’s hand a squeeze. No, he decided. They couldn’t.
An hour and a half later, as the map indicated, Rhone turned off the highway onto a county road. Washboard slowed his pace and that of the cargo van that followed.
“You know the sheriff and his deputies will be ticked we didn’t invite them along.”
Rhone heard the smile in Brian’s voice.
“Handled,” Doug answered from the back seat. “Jenkins has his men chasing down leads while he’s monitoring all radio transmissions. It goes without saying Norton has his own shortwave setup. Rhone, just up ahead, on your left,” Doug added, lowering infrared binoculars.
Rhone checked his odometer. “That’s it,” he said.
He switched off the headlights as he turned. Overgrowth narrowed the one-lane road. Inside the passenger compartment, tension thickened. Rhone stopped, pushed a button that lowered all the windows and listened for anything out of the ordinary. He heard the tick of Shannen’s watch, the sounds of breathing.
In his rearview mirror, he saw six shadows emerge from the van. They disappeared immediately among the trees, so quietly, Shannen remained unaware they were being surrounded by some of the best-trained men in the country.
Accustomed to the darkness, Rhone put the vehicle in gear, driving slowly.
Not more than five minutes later, Doug spoke quietly. “Twelve o’clock.”
“I see it.” Rhone made out the solitary cabin straight ahead.
He pulled off the road into a small clearing several feet away and cut the ignition. “Stay here,” he told Shannen. “We’ll go have a look around.”
Shannen gripped his arm. “I’d feel safer if I could go with you.”
He frowned, wanting to argue, knew it would be no use. “Stay close to me.” He turned to the two men in the back seat. “Ready?”
Stepping away from the Jeep, the three men drew guns. With Shannen at Rhone’s side, the foursome moved cautiously toward the cabin. Gauging from the exterior, Rhone guessed it to be no bigger than four or five rooms on the inside. The windows were boarded up and ground cover choked the foundation.
The occasional sound of chirping crickets broke the silence. Silence that seemed accustomed to the vacancy of human life.
“No one’s here, Rhone. What do we do now? Where do we go next?”
He heard the disappointment in Shannen’s voice. He kept his eyes moving, inventorying their surroundings, automatically committing them to memory. “Oh, Norton’s been here, all right.”
Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “How do you know?”
“Tracks,” Doug supplied.
“That he’s tried to conceal, but in his rush, didn’t quite succeed. Or—didn’t on purpose,” Rhone added. He knelt down and flipped on his flashlight. “They’re a couple days old.”
A few feet away, Rhone turned to Shannen. “Wait with Brian while Doug and I check out the interior.”
She seemed about to argue, then apparently changed her mind.
Rhone heard distinct sounds that separated themselves from normal night noises, alerting him that his team of sharpshooters were in place.
Positioning themselves at opposite corners of the small wooden structure, Rhone and Doug crouched, inching toward the door. Flanking it, Doug poised, weapon raised and nodded to Rhone.
Rhone reached around to the handle, finding that it turned with ease. He winced as thirsty hinges protested with a loud squawk. Making eye contact with Doug, Rhone raised his own weapon, swung around toward the opening and lowered the barrel. Without making a sound, he crossed the threshold, moving the gun from side to side. Within seconds, Doug joined him.
In a methodical pattern, they checked all four rooms, finding more dust and rodent droppings than furniture or anything else.
Returning to the living room, Rhone lowered his weapon and turned on the flashlight, circling the beam for a final check. Nothing out of the ordinary. Rhone gave a snort of disgust. He knew Norton had been there. The foul odor of day’s-old sweat lingered in the stale air and was as good as his calling card.
Then Rhone saw the footprints, recognized the distinctive figuration. When Jimmy walked, he dragged the right tip of h
is shoe an inch or two, trailing a short line above the imprint.
For a second, the light wavered. Rhone’s hand tremored briefly in reaction to his own expectancy. The prints led to the far end of the room, to a crudely built wooden table.
The funnel of light skimmed over the contents on top.
The butcher knife plunged into the surface was a vulgar contrast to the half-filled baby bottle that sat nearby.
Rhone began a savage curse until his throat tightened, the realization truly hitting him for the first time that his son could very well be injured. Or dead.
Doug squeezed Rhone’s shoulder, the pressure conveying his friend’s own anger and frustration before he turned and walked away. As though from a distance, Rhone heard Doug call out an all-clear.
Harsh reality, based on an almost intimate knowledge of their enemy, reminded Rhone of the facts. In trying to abate Shannen’s anxiety with words of comfort, laced with confidence that he would get Nicholas back, Rhone had made a critical error. He’d started believing his own words, forgetting the most important fact of all.
Jimmy Norton was utterly capable of anything.
Chapter 12
“Damn it, Rhone, move.”
Resolutely, he shook his head.
Her anger built. Logically, Shannen knew he only wanted to protect her, shield her from more hurt. But she was tired of him treating her this way. “He’s my son, too.”
“Shannen,” Doug said, “Rhone’s right.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Ever since Rhone had rescued her, he’d become tenfold more protective. Shutting her out had always been one of their biggest problems. No more, if she could help it.
Despite the way he acted, as if he wanted their marriage to work, Shannen realized, with a painful stab, that love wasn’t enough.
But as she stood there, facing down two very determined males, her own determination grew. “Rhone, you’ve got to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?”
She sighed in exasperation. “Treating me the way you’ve been treating me.”
“Shannen, after—”
“Stop! I’m a grown woman. I have as much at stake here as you do.” She dropped her voice, begging him to understand.
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