by Laurie Paige
A premonition stiffened the hair on his neck. Rosita usually deposited the family mail on a table in the great room and gave the business mail to her husband or son to take down to the ranch office.
“There is something here…” Her voice trailed off in uncertainty.
“Let me see,” he instructed, holding out his hand.
He saw at once that the letter had no postmark. Someone had personally delivered it to the mailbox located where the ranch road met the county road. The second thing he noticed was that the envelope contained a single name—Ryan Fortune—and that the letters had been cut from a newspaper.
Well, the kidnappers were consistent.
“Thanks. I’ll handle it,” he said to the housekeeper, his heart kicking up a bit.
“This is bad,” she said. “I feel the energy. It is from anger.” With a worried frown, she left the room, closing the door silently.
Since it was practically impossible to lift a clear set of prints from well-handled porous material, Dev wasn’t too worried about contamination as he slit open the envelope. Inside there was a single sheet of paper wrapped around a blurred photo of a baby. He dropped the contents onto another sheet of paper without touching the photograph, knowing the glossy-coated film paper might prove more promising when it came to lifting prints. He doubted it would disclose any, though. The perps were sharper than that.
The message was brief. It advised they would receive a call this evening telling them where to drop the money and pick up the child. They would speak only to Ryan Fortune. He was to have the money ready when they called.
Dev wasn’t surprised that the patriarch of the clan was the man the perps would contact. They obviously knew who controlled the purse strings. More than that was Dev’s gut feeling that a great part of this case was revenge on Ryan.
By Sophia Fortune, who had no inclination to be faithful to her husband, but wanted all the perks and money the Fortunes commanded?
By Clint Lockhart, who harbored a childhood grudge against Ryan for being more successful than his own father?
By Cruz Perez, who was saving nearly every penny he made for the day he could buy his own place to get out from under the Fortune shadow?
By Ruben Perez, who, to all appearances, was a loyal ranch manager?
By one of Lily Cassidy’s kids? One who might resent their mother’s involvement with Ryan, who couldn’t seem to wrangle a divorce from his present wife?
By Lily herself, who might have gotten tired of being strung along and decided to go for the money?
By any of the dozens of friends and neighbors and business associates of the Fortune family, or ranch, or even Fortune TX, Ltd., their business holdings?
And then there were the Fortune heirs from either Ryan’s or Cameron’s side of the family. Someone who maybe wanted to secure their inheritance before it was due. Cameron’s oldest son Holden had a wild past, while Dallas was a moody recluse. Logan and Zane were the second born in their respective families. Perhaps one of them felt resentment at being overshadowed by the oldest sons and the younger kids.
He ruled out the girls—Cameron’s daughter Eden and Ryan’s twins Vanessa and Victoria—simply because they either hadn’t been present or were accounted for.
Picking up the cell phone, he called Ryan. “We’ve had a message.”
“What do I have to do?”
He gave the older man credit for control. His tone had been tense but calm and composed. In a battle, Dev would like to have Ryan at his side.
“Get back to the ranch sometime this afternoon. They’re going to call and give instructions this evening at some unspecified time.”
“Okay. Should I alert my banker?”
“I would, sir.”
“Should I bring the money with me?”
“Yes. The drop-off will most likely be today or in the morning.” He hesitated. “Or they may send you someplace to pick up further instructions. Some people like to play games.”
“Especially these. They want to see me suffer.”
“Vanessa thinks so, too. I agree.”
Ryan sighed. “It makes a man wonder what terrible sin he committed that another person would want to punish him like this—through a child…an innocent child.”
Dev had no comforting words to offer.
“I’ll be home by three. It will take that long for me to get the money and get it signed for. If you need me before then, let me know.”
“I will.” Dev said goodbye and hung up.
A sense of melancholy seeped into his spirits like ink through a blotter. He had always had the ability to separate the needs of his job from the needs of the victims. He knew and understood grief, and he’d never let feelings get in the way of his duty.
He wouldn’t now.
Yet he felt a deep sorrow for Ryan Fortune. The man had had some good fortune—so had his father, who had married the original owner of the land—but they had also worked hard and made wise decisions where other ranchers suffering the same weather and market conditions had failed.
Fate had conspired to rob Ryan Fortune of peace of mind at a stage of his life where he should be able to kick back and relax a little, to enjoy the resurrection of his first love and the birth of his first grandchild.
He carefully put the items back in the envelope and slipped them into a larger one. He had time to run to town to get the lab to check the photo for whatever it might tell them.
Once in his truck, he started the engine, then sat there in indecision. He muttered an expletive, put the SUV into gear and drove to the stables.
The stallion was in the pasture. He checked the tack room. Not there. Passing by the office, he heard laughter and veered toward the door.
Vanessa was inside, sitting on the corner of an old massive desk. Cruz and his father were with her. Through the dusty window, they looked like a happy group. They were completely at ease with each other. Cruz sat at the desk, his arm near Vanessa’s thigh. Irritation twanged through Dev, surprising him. He recognized the emotion for what it really was—jealousy of the younger man’s closeness to her and of her loyalty to her childhood friend.
Someday she would marry a man like that; one who could share her dreams. A young man who had hopes of his own.
Dev stood outside until the older man finished a story about trying to keep a determined armadillo out of Rosita’s kitchen garden when they were young and first married. He knocked once and opened the door.
An instant silence fell on the room.
He nodded to the men, then looked at Vanessa. “I have to go to town. I, uh, thought you might like to ride along.”
His ears felt hot long before he got to the end of the sentence, which seemed way too complicated for a simple suggestion.
Her smile blinded him with its brilliance. “Yes. I’ll see you later,” she said to the other two, then she came to him. Outside, she linked her arm with his. “Do I have time to change clothes? I’ve been working with the black this morning.”
“No, I’m in a hurry.”
The shine left her face. “What is it?” she asked.
“We’ve had news. The kidnappers will contact your father with instructions tonight. I want to have Charlie at the lab check the letter before then.”
She climbed into the truck without another word. Worry shadowed her eyes. Her mouth looked soft, vulnerable. “Did they say anything about Bryan?”
“They sent a Polaroid print. I want it checked by the lab before anyone handles it,” he added.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Matthew and Claudia will want to see it, naturally. And my father.” She hesitated. “Do you think Bryan is okay?”
“As far as one can tell from a snapshot.”
Charlie was at the lab, eating lunch and studying a report. “I’m not moving until I finish my meal,” he announced as soon as he saw Dev come through the door.
“Okay.” Dev removed the envelope from his pocket and laid it in the middle of the cluttered desk in the crime
lab. He pulled up two stools for him and Vanessa at the lab table where Charlie sat.
Charlie eyed the envelope. “What is it?”
“A letter.”
“Oh.” He went back to his report.
“And a photo.”
Charlie glanced at Dev suspiciously. Dev gazed out the window at the traffic. “What kind of photo?”
Charlie asked.
“Of the Fortune baby.”
Charlie looked aggrieved. “Why didn’t you say so?” He jumped off the stool and retrieved the letter after pulling on gloves. He dusted the photo. “No prints.”
“Can you tell me anything about when the photo was taken?”
Charlie was busy setting out a flat, shallow pan and a tray of chemicals. He scanned the photo into the computer, then rubbed the corner. “The date indicates the picture was taken yesterday. Of course, that can be set at any day you want. However, the photo is fresh, not more than twenty-four hours old, I’d say.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Dev said in his serious, contemplative manner.
Vanessa peered over the lab man’s shoulder. Her heart caught in her throat. “He looks okay. He’s gained weight.”
Charlie stepped back and let her get a closer look.
“His face is rounder, fuller.” She pressed a hand to her breast. “They grow so fast at this age.”
Dev came to her and slipped a hand around her waist, holding her close, sensing her need for comfort. “Tomorrow,” he murmured. “We’ll get him back tomorrow.”
She laid her head against his shoulder. “I hope so. I have just about given up hope.”
He squeezed her, then stepped back. “Let’s go to lunch and let Charlie get on with his work. We’ll be back in an hour or so,” he said to the other man.
Charlie nodded, already busy on the photo.
“I want to check in with your father,” Dev said once they were in the SUV. He called Ryan, who invited them to join him at the offices of Fortune TX, Ltd. Ryan was about to have lunch with his son Zane, Executive Director of Marketing. The bank president would deliver the money personally.
The secretary showed them in when they arrived. Vanessa kissed her brother, then her father in greeting. Dev shook hands with the men.
“Lunch is ready,” Zane announced. “We’ll use the conference room.”
Her brother was dressed in a blue summer suit that enhanced his sun-streaked blond, blue-eyed good looks. She and Victoria thought he should have gone to Hollywood and become a star instead of staying in Texas and becoming a business tycoon. But he seemed to like his job…and the social life of the city, if the gossip columns were to be believed. And they were.
His expression was quiet, serious and threaded with subdued anger, the same as Dallas’s when he spoke of the kidnapping.
They served themselves from a trolley loaded with Tex-Mex dishes—tortilla soup, chicken breasts that had been flattened, battered and fried to a golden brown, broccoli slaw, chips made from colored corn-meal and served with fresh guacamole dip.
“Have you heard anything else?” her father demanded as soon as the heavy door closed behind him.
“No. The lab checked the photo. There were no fingerprints. I didn’t expect any.”
“They’re careful,” Zane said, an expression of pure rage crossing his handsome features.
“But they’ve made mistakes. They’ll make others.” Vanessa turned to Dev. “Matthew and Claudia will want to see the picture. Do you think we can take it with us?”
“Charlie can make us a copy. He’ll take out the light glare. It’ll be clearer.”
“It’s hard, this waiting,” Ryan said.
She gave her father a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before bending over her soup. Dev sat beside her while Zane had taken the other side. Her father sat at the end of the shining walnut table.
“I saw Parker Malone this morning,” Ryan mentioned.
“The divorce lawyer,” Vanessa reminded Dev. She knew he had talked to the attorney, who had also been present at the christening party.
“He’s going to petition the court for the final decree on the divorce. The settlement discussions can continue for as long as it takes,” her father continued.
“Then you would be free? You and Lily could marry?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That would be wonderful. Once we have Bryan back and your divorce is final, you and Lily can have a big wedding. The biggest the Double Crown has ever seen,” Vanessa declared. “Victoria would have to come home for it.”
“Let’s not count our chickens too soon,” her father suggested, but with a gentle smile for her.
After lunch, Dev said he had to see Wyatt Grayhawk and Sam Waterman. He hesitated and looked at her. She recognized the invitation to tag along and accepted at once.
Strapping herself into the SUV, she laughed almost happily. “We’re making progress. Soon this will all be behind us. My family will be happy again. Then I’ll work on you and your happiness,” she vowed.
His smile was sardonic, but he would see, she promised her heart. Dev would admit they had a future…together.
The call came at six o’clock that evening. Gathered in the study were Ryan, Dev, Matthew, Claudia and Vanessa. Dev had asked that the rest of the family not be notified until the case was resolved. Two navy duffel bags sat on the floor near the door. Fifty million dollars in ransom money.
Claudia hugged the copy of the photo to her breast, a handkerchief clutched in her hand to catch the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
Vanessa patted her sister-in-law’s hand and murmured for her to be brave, that Dev and Wyatt would soon have Bryan back. She willed it to be so.
“I’ll deliver the money,” Matthew said.
“I think they’ll expect your father,” Dev told him.
Ryan squeezed his son’s shoulder. “We’ll do whatever they say.”
Matthew subsided with a curt nod.
The phone rang. Ryan picked it up. Dev was on his phone, connected to the men who were already tracing the call even as the phone rang.
“Ryan Fortune,” her father said. “Yes, I’m ready.” He picked up a pencil and paper. “Abandoned service station. An ice chest on the side. At eight?”
Vanessa clasped her hands to stop their trembling as her father listened, his jaw rigid with tension.
“Yes, I have it. Mixed bills, mostly hundreds, some fifties and twenties as stated in the note. Where will my grandson be? No! No money until I see the child.”
Dev signaled him to agree.
“All right,” Ryan said as if giving up. “I’ll leave the money in the chest.”
Dev shoved a note in front of him.
Ryan read it. “Provided I find instructions on where the baby is,” he said to the kidnapper. “And provided the boy is close by. Wait a minute—” He turned to Dev. “He hung up. Did you get anything?”
Dev held up one finger, then gestured that her father should hang up. He punched a button and put his cell phone away. “Yeah, he was at a pay phone at the truck stop on the interstate. The highway patrol is on their way, but our man will be long gone with a five-minute start.”
No one spoke when he narrowed his eyes in thought. Vanessa wondered what connection he was making.
At last he spoke. “We’ll have plainclothes detectives all over the neighborhood around the gas station. He’s sticking to the southwest side of the city. It’s probably close to where he’s holed up.”
His cell phone rang. He listened, then said he would check the print, and hung up. He glanced at her father. “Would you rather I have someone else do the actual drop, sir?”
“No, I can handle it,” Ryan assured him.
“All right. May I see the print of the baby?” he asked Claudia.
She surrendered it as if giving up the child.
“Charlie noticed the background of the picture. They propped the baby in a chair with pillows, but there’s a window behind him. That
’s what caused the glare. There’s an antenna in the background.” He pointed to the print. “There. That’s a radio station antenna. Charlie spotted it and called Wyatt. He’s running a check on the maps of the county and all local stations for locations.”
“Another mistake,” Vanessa said. She stood, her spirits soaring. “He’ll make another one and we’ll get him. And his partners in crime.”
Dev gave her a pointed glance. “The sheriff’s men and the FBI will get them. You’ll stay out of it.”
“I’m going with you.”
He shook his head. “You’ll only be in the way. Are you ready, sir?” he asked her father.
Ryan picked up the duffel bags. “Let’s go.”
Vanessa said nothing as the two men who meant the most in her life walked out for their rendezvous with the kidnappers. Claudia went to the window.
“I hate them,” she said. “Whoever did this. I hate them. I hope their souls rot in hell.”
“They will,” Matthew said grimly. “They will.”
Vanessa looked at her watch. Not quite ten after six. Two hours to wait. If only she could help….
Twelve
Vanessa sat alone in the office after Dev and her father had left. Matthew and Claudia went to their quarters to wait. She hated doing nothing. Besides, she could be of help to Dev. After all, she knew what the cowboy who had worked at the ranch looked like. Dev and Wyatt and their deputies didn’t, other than a composite drawing by a police artist.
On this thought, she dashed out and ran across the inner courtyard to the garage. Leaping into her sports car, she headed for town. Dev’s SUV was in the parking lot across from the sheriff’s office. She breathed a sigh of relief.
She parked beside him and waited.
Dev stopped when he saw her. His frown didn’t bode well for her plan. He came over and rested his hands on her car while leaning down to the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. I want to go along.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard my plan,” she accused. “You don’t have a person on the case who has met James—or Jeremy, or whatever he’s calling himself—face-to-face. I have. I can spot him for you when he picks up the money.”
