by Kara Lennox
But he hadn’t taken her to school, because of the flat tire.
They’d both gone back into the house while they waited for something called auto club to come fix the tire, and Daddy had told her she could play for a little while. She’d gone out into the backyard to swing.
The puppy! That’s when she’d seen a white puppy huddling near the fence.
She loved animals. She still missed Pixie. People didn’t think she could really remember the dog, because she’d been only three when he ran away, but she did remember.
The puppy had looked scared, and MacKenzie had gone right over to it. Where had it come from? Was it lost? She’d pet it, and it had licked her hand, making her laugh.
Then... Oh, yeah, the man. He’d talked to her through the fence. He’d said it was his puppy and it had run away, and he’d asked her to bring it to the gate and let it out so he could take it home. She’d happily picked up the trembling puppy and done as the man had asked, though she’d wanted to play with it. She’d unlocked the gate and opened it—and the man had grabbed her. He’d put a cloth over her face with something stinky on it, and that was all she remembered.
“Daddy?” she tried again. But no one was answering. Daddy wasn’t anywhere near. This car was taking her farther and farther away from him.
Everybody always told her not to talk to strangers. Now she knew why. But he’d sounded so worried about his puppy....
She felt sick to her stomach, so sick she almost couldn’t be scared. It smelled bad here, like rubber and dirty carpeting. Her stomach rolled; she didn’t want to upchuck, because then she would be lying in it. She tried moving. Maybe she could sit up. But with her hands tied up it was hard.
She scooted her knees under her body and tried to raise up, but she hit her head on something. Oh, she was in the trunk! Daddy was going to be really mad that she wasn’t in her car seat. She was never, ever supposed to ride in a car without her car seat.
No way around it—she was in trouble. First she’d talked to a stranger, then she’d gotten into a car with a stranger—also a big no-no—and now she was riding in a car without even a seat belt. When this car stopped and she got out, she was going to yell at that bad man who was getting her in so much trouble.
Her daddy had told her that if any person ever made her afraid, she had to stay calm and tell a grown-up what was going on, or she should call 911 and tell the police. Dr. Bree had told her she was smart, and she shouldn’t let anyone bully her or make her do something she didn’t want to do, that no one had a right to hurt her or take her things.
When that bad man let her out of his car, she was going to yell at him real good. And she wasn’t going to cry anymore, because she wasn’t a baby. Dr. Bree said it was okay to cry sometimes, but that if you were sad or scared, it was much better to do something to make yourself feel better. MacKenzie liked that idea. She liked it that she could do things, make things happen.
She was going to make that bad man take her home to her Daddy.
* * *
BREE’S STOMACH FELT like a cold, hard rock inside her. Daniel had whisked her back to his home so she could pick up her car, because it might look weird if she showed up driving a different vehicle. He’d said he wanted to be sure the kidnapper knew nothing of Project Justice’s involvement.
Now she was behind the wheel of her Fiat, amazed she could drive without having a wreck.
Poor MacKenzie, poor little girl, in the hands of some monster! And poor Eric. Hadn’t he been through enough? Whoever had taken her had known how to strike where it would hurt most. Eric would die a thousand times before he would let anyone harm so much as a fingernail of his precious child.
She was terrified at the responsibility she’d been given. She would be Daniel’s eyes and ears; with the super-safe encrypted silver phone he’d given her, she and Eric could talk freely to him.
Her speedometer had inched up in the past few minutes. She slowed. A speeding ticket wouldn’t help matters. She glanced into the rearview mirror. A plain-looking silver Honda followed her. Joe Kinkaid was behind the wheel along with Jillian. They would park somewhere near Eric’s house and see if they could figure out who was watching, if anyone was. If no one was watching the house, then they would come in and hunt for evidence. Beth had assured her that the kidnapper had left something behind—a hair, a footprint or perhaps a witness. The lady next door was a big snoop, always peering out a crack in her curtains. Though Eric had been cleared of all crimes, she had made it known she didn’t want “those Riggs boys” living next door to her. One day when Bree was taking out the trash, she’d had the misfortune to run into the unpleasant neighbor, who had mistaken Bree for a housekeeper and confided her theory that Elena was sleeping with both brothers.
Bree had disabused her of that notion.
Maybe the old biddy would be useful for something, after all.
As she pulled into Eric’s driveway, her heart started to pound and her palms grew damp. Would she always have this reaction to him? Ever since she’d realized she was reluctant to get involved with Eric because of fear, she’d been nervous about seeing him again.
She wanted to take the chance. But would he, since she’d been acting like a split personality? If anything happened to MacKenzie, she wondered if he’d ever believe in anything again.
She opened her car door and started to get out, but the front door of the house opened and Eric stepped out onto the porch. “Bree. Don’t get out.”
“What?”
“Just drive around to the garage. There’s a spot for you.”
He seemed a little intense about where she parked. Did he not want anyone to see her car there?
She drove around to the alley, and a few seconds later she pulled into the open garage. As soon as she got out she found herself wrapped in Eric’s arms.
“Jesus, Eric, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry I got you involved in this.” Then the tears came. She started crying and couldn’t stop. It hadn’t hit her until this moment, but she was responsible for MacKenzie’s kidnapping. If she hadn’t pressured Eric to take on her cause, this wouldn’t have happened.
“It’s not your fault, baby,” Eric said softly, stroking her back as they stood there in the garage.
“But this has to be related to Philomene’s murder and all the rest.”
“Maybe not. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but MacKenzie is the sole heir to a huge fortune, something like $17 million. That fact was in the news. Someone might have gotten the idea that I have access to that money. I don’t. It belongs to her great-grandmother, Tammy’s grandmother, who’s in a home and completely senile. The money is untouchable until she dies.”
Bree got herself under control and dried her tears with a tissue from her purse. “Who handles her money now?”
“She gave some nurse at the home her power of attorney. We are very fortunate the woman is a responsible, honest sort who is using the money strictly for Granny’s care.”
“Who would inherit the fortune if MacKenzie was...?” Bree asked as they went inside.
“A second cousin of Tammy’s. Somebody is looking into that angle.”
In the living room, Bree found Elena and Travis sitting on the sofa, holding hands. The kidnapper had specified that Eric tell only Bree, but it had been impossible to keep it from his brother and sister-in-law. When Travis called to ask why she hadn’t shown up at a job site with some paperwork, Elena had told him what was going on and he’d come straight home.
Bree hugged them both. They had been so kind and welcoming to her, and she knew they couldn’t love MacKenzie any more if she were their daughter.
“So why did I have to park in the garage?” Bree asked.
“It occurred to me,” Eric replied, “that whoever wants to harm you has lost track of your whereabouts and would like to find you. B
y kidnapping MacKenzie, they’ve drawn you back onto the radar. I just didn’t want to take a chance that someone would take a potshot at you when you got out of your car.”
Bree shivered. “I never even thought of that. I was so focused on MacKenzie....”
“That might be exactly what someone wants. We’ve all got to be careful. Someone who stoops to kidnapping a child might do anything. Which brings me to the question—have you talked to your parents lately, Bree?”
Bree sank into a chair. She was always at odds with her mom and dad, but that didn’t mean she wanted them to come to harm.
She couldn’t deal with them right now. So she called her aunt Terry in Corpus Christi and asked her to let her parents know that she had become the target of a killer and they needed to be extremely careful.
She was relieved to learn they were currently out of town, on a cruise.
Next, Bree checked in with Daniel using the encrypted phone.
“I take it you haven’t heard anything from the kidnapper?”
“No.” It was twenty minutes until noon.
“I’ll make sandwiches,” Elena said.
“I’ll help,” Bree offered. It wasn’t that anyone was hungry, but Bree needed to do something with her hands. She couldn’t just sit there staring into Eric’s haunted eyes.
Bree spread mayonnaise on bread while Elena stacked slices of ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce. By the time they were done, they had more than a dozen sandwiches.
Bree felt like crying when she realized this was the sort of thing one did when there had been a death in the family and you expected friends and family to gather.
“When the kidnapper calls back, will the call be recorded?” Elena asked.
“I think so. They’ve tapped into Eric’s cell phone.”
“Can they do that without the police... Oh, never mind. I should know by now not to ask questions. Project Justice does what it does, and the results speak for themselves.”
Bree nodded. She didn’t care whether it was legal or not. She just wanted someone to find MacKenzie safe and sound—and make the son of a bitch who’d taken her pay.
“How do you think MacKenzie is holding up?” Bree asked.
“She’s stronger than people give her credit for,” Elena said. “Stronger every day. When I first met her, she was afraid of everything—thunder, the dark, bad dreams, strangers. It’s amazing the progress she’s made.” Tears filled Elena’s eyes. “It’s just so unfair. How can so many bad things happen to one man—one family?”
Bree folded Elena into a hug. “We’re gonna get her back. I know it in my heart.” Her heart also told her that she belonged here, with this family. With Eric. Anything that happened to them might as well happen to her.
God, she hoped her heart was right this time.
* * *
“YOU WANT A COOKIE, MacKenzie?”
MacKenzie stared hard at the man, but she didn’t answer. Her daddy had told her not to talk to strangers, but he’d been especially determined that she not take candy or cookies or any other food from a stranger.
“Suit yourself.” He took a bite out of the cookie himself, and MacKenzie’s mouth watered. Her breakfast seemed a long time ago.
The bad man had tied her to a chair. They were in a house somewhere. It was cold and quiet—she didn’t hear any cars or sirens or dogs barking. Out the windows all she could see were the bare trees of winter.
She wished she’d put on a warmer sweater before going outside. She wished she hadn’t gone outside by herself at all.
“Where’s my daddy?” she finally mustered the courage to ask.
“Don’t worry. You’ll see your daddy soon.”
It sounded as if he was lying. She knew a lot about lying—her foster parents used to lie to her all the time about what happened to the clothes and toys her daddy gave her. Grown-ups got this certain tone in their voices, and a shifty look in their eyes, when they were saying something untrue just to shut you up.
“I want my daddy,” she said. “And I’m gonna cry if you don’t take me home right now.”
He looked up at her, a little surprised by her demand. “You can cry all you want. No one but me will hear you.”
MacKenzie knew a thing or two about temper tantrums. She’d been having them for as long as she could remember, and sometimes they worked wonders getting her what she wanted. She opened her mouth and let out an ear-piercing scream, followed by a series of loud sobs. She couldn’t fall down on the floor for a proper tantrum, but she kicked the legs of the chair and swayed back and forth so hard she almost knocked the chair over.
Her eyes automatically filled with tears. By sobbing, she kind of fooled her eyes into crying for real. It wasn’t too hard, especially now, when she was scared.
But all of her howling seemed to have little effect on the bad man. He just rolled his eyes and walked out of the room.
Oh, she hated it when that happened. She howled all the louder, but the bad man didn’t come back.
At least she didn’t have to look at him. He was scary, the way he didn’t smile or frown or yell. It was as if he didn’t have any feelings.
Eventually she got tired of crying and the sobs slowed down. She tried to think of what else she could do.
Dr. Bree had said when she was scared, she should take some kind of action. Like, if the dark scared her, she should turn on a light. Or if she was scared of getting a shot at the doctor’s, she should think of something nice, like kittens or puppies or ice cream.
Speaking of puppies, the bad man had put the white puppy outside as soon as he got done tying MacKenzie to the chair. It was whining at the kitchen door, but like MacKenzie’s tantrum, the dog’s pitiful cries had no effect on the man. He didn’t love that poor little puppy. It meant no more to him than she had meant to the Stovers.
She’d always wanted a puppy. If it were her puppy, she wouldn’t make it stay outside. And she would name it Snowflake.
She thought again about Dr. Bree’s advice. Besides comforting herself by saying over and over that her daddy would come for her soon, MacKenzie tried to think of what she could do to make herself less afraid. She wouldn’t be quite so afraid if she weren’t tied up. Being tied up was scary. Bad guys always tied up people on Scooby-Doo and then they had to be rescued. Maybe the puppy would rescue her. That idea made her laugh, a little bit.
She looked down at her hands. The man had tied up her hands with silver tape. Her feet, too, so she couldn’t run. Then he’d told her to sit on the wooden chair, and he’d wrapped stretchy cords around her—a whole bunch of them. They were tight against her arms and it kind of hurt.
She’d seen Uncle Trav use this silver kind of tape before. He called it duck tape. She had no idea why. Sometimes, when he wanted to tear it, he used his teeth.
MacKenzie leaned down to see if she could reach her hands with her mouth, but no matter how hard she stretched her neck, she couldn’t reach.
Then she got another idea. The cords around her were tight, but they were stretchy. She wiggled her arms a little. If she used all her strength, she could move them up her body, under the cords, an inch at a time. The cords rubbed her skin raw but she didn’t care. Maybe she could get loose! Then she would run away from the bad man. She would run all the way home to her daddy and Elena and Uncle Trav. Then they would put the bad man in prison.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
NOON CAME AND went with no phone call, and the minutes crept by.
Joe and Jillian had joined them. After checking every house and car on the street that might have a good view of their home, the two had concluded no one was watching. So they’d begun the task of searching for trace evidence. In their car they carried a portable evidence kit with rubber gloves, tweezers, bags and bottles and boxes for storing evidence, fingerprint pow
der and brushes, swabs for collecting DNA samples, and luminol and alternate light sources for finding blood.
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Eric flicked the living room curtain back and peered into the backyard. Jillian was on her hands and knees combing the winter-brown grass with a flashlight. It looked as if Kinkaid was examining something on the gate, close to the ground.
Bree joined him at the window. “How long will it take?”
“I don’t know. As long as it takes, I guess.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re doing great. I don’t know how you’ve stayed so strong. I’m about to fall apart and she’s not even my daughter.”
If anyone knew what he was feeling at this moment, it was Bree. She knew what it was like to lose a child. Even if the child had lived only a few hours, the mother-child bond had formed. He squeezed her hand. “It helps a lot, your being here. And all these other people—I can’t imagine going through this alone, like you did.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Kelly.”
Suddenly Eric understood. He knew why she was so loyal to Kelly. It wasn’t that she was still in love with him. She was just standing by the one person who had stood by her at the lowest point in her life. He’d gotten her through it, even if ultimately their relationship had petered out.
“You’re amazing, Bree.”
She smiled uncertainly. “Me? Why?”
“Your heart was broken. But you still have so much love and compassion to give other people.”
“My heart broke. But it’s healing. You know what they say about time.”
“If anything happens to MacKenzie—” His voice broke. “I’m not sure I’d ever recover. I’m not sure I could ever be a functioning human being again.”
“It does feel like that at first. But, hey, we’re going to get MacKenzie back safe.”
“Do you know what the statistics are? Most children kidnapped by strangers are dead within twenty minutes—”
