by Charly Cox
As she watched her son, Alyssa tried to work out the puzzle. Isaac hadn’t recognized Jenkins, yet she was certain he was involved, because why else would he have been in her neighborhood? Plus, his kidnapper had known Hunter Jenkins was dead.
Brock’s familiar footsteps interrupted her thinking as he stepped up behind her, and she leaned into his strength as he laid his head on her shoulder, his cheek pressed against hers. He spoke softly into her ear, ‘He’s a lucky boy to have you for his mom.’ He turned her in his arms and rested his chin atop her head. ‘He’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it. Why don’t you come back to bed now?’
She nodded her head, and together they walked down the hall to their room. She woke several more times throughout the early morning hours, listening for the sounds of Isaac’s breathing before dozing off again until the next time.
Now, here it was, morning, and she was on her second cup of coffee. Brock sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, sipping from his own cup, a plate with toast crumbs pushed to the side.
‘I called Dr. Brown’s office and explained what happened. He agreed to meet us at the clinic since they’re closed on the weekends. We have an appointment at eleven. It’s just a couple blocks away, so we shouldn’t have any trouble making that time.’ Alyssa waited for Brock to look up from the article he was reading. ‘I think you should go with him because he might be more comfortable talking to the doctor if his dad is there instead of his mom.’
Brock cleared his throat and then asked, ‘Do you think he was hurt… in that way?’ The pain in his eyes conveyed how difficult it was to even ask the question.
‘No. Brock, he’d tell us something like that. I don’t think he hid anything last night.’
He tipped his head forward, considering her words, then said, ‘You’re right. So, what will you be doing while we’re gone?’
‘I’ll get ahold of Cord and the rest of the team. I’m going to ask Liz to contact Tex Rivers and see if she can pry out enough information for a rough sketch, and then if he’s comfortable with it, I’d like Isaac to sit down with her and do the same, and then we can compare the two, and see if that shakes anything loose.’ Just the thought of asking her son to willingly go through his ordeal, even for a good reason, was enough to make her sick.
A haunted look fell across her husband’s face, and she knew he was no more comfortable with the idea than she was, but they really didn’t have many options at this point.
When her phone rang, Brock pushed his chair back, poured himself another cup of coffee, and said, ‘I’ll take a quick shower, and then go wake Isaac and Holly.’
She nodded as she checked her caller ID. Guthrie Hammond. ‘Captain,’ she answered, wondering why he was calling.
He cleared his throat. ‘Grapevine says you got your boy back. I’m glad. A couple things: first, I want to apologize for the hard stance I was forced to take on the Amber Alert issue. I hope you understand that, as law enforcement officers, we walk a tenuous line sometimes, and we must be careful not to overuse or abuse the system, or it fails to work. That’s why there are so many fail-safes in place.’
Alyssa did get it, as a member of law enforcement – but as a mother, she was still more than a little sore about it. She kept quiet as Hammond continued. ‘And second, we need to find out why Jenkins is trying to draw you into a game of cat and mouse.’
You don’t think that’s my number one priority? My son was kidnapped! Alyssa bristled even though she’d wondered the same thing. ‘That’s the plan,’ she said, then ended the call.
* * *
She replayed the conversation back as she gathered the ingredients for a ham, green chile, and cheese omelet, her son’s favorite. She preheated the oven and pulled out a package of bacon, arranging it on a cookie sheet as the oven warmed. She was chopping the chile when she heard Brock singing loudly off key. Her palm covered her heart as she smiled, knowing her husband was purposely making noise to lessen the chance of frightening Isaac when he went in to wake him.
A few minutes later, their muffled voices carried down the stairs, ‘Do I have to?’ from Isaac and a ‘Yep. Mom says, and you know what happens when Mom insists.’ Grumbling, groaning, and squeaking bedsprings accompanied Isaac as he rolled out of bed. A bittersweet smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she wondered if that was what Timmy would’ve been like had he lived to be a teenager.
She poured another cup of coffee as Isaac walked into the kitchen and scraped a chair back. Alyssa gave him a warm smile. ‘Little bit of a rough night for sleep, huh?’
Isaac looked embarrassed but mumbled a ‘yeah’ before he collapsed into the chair, crying out at the jolt to his body. Then he leaned forward and laid his head on the table.
‘It’ll get better, you know?’
He twisted his neck and regarded her doubtfully.
‘Not right away, but it will. So, hey, I’m making your favorite; green chile and ham omelet with bacon on the side.’ Alyssa washed and dried her hands, then ruffled her son’s hair as she walked by to grab a bowl out of the cupboard.
‘You’re just trying to make up for forcing me to go to the doctor,’ Isaac said sullenly. ‘Sara said I was fine,’ he said as he picked splinters from the wooden table.
‘Sara said you were fine enough to go home last night but that you had to make sure to go to the doctor today to get checked out.’ Alyssa refused to feel guilty for doing what was right.
‘Moommm. I really don’t want to go. I told you I’m fine.’
‘Yes, you did. And you probably are, except for the probably sprained ankle, the possibly sprained wrist, the cuts, the scratches, the fever, and the possibly cracked or broken ribs. Do I need to go on?’
Isaac remained stubbornly quiet.
‘Honey, I’ve already explained this. You need to get checked out in case any of those scratches are infected. And it wouldn’t hurt to check those ribs, either.’
‘They won’t do anything if they are,’ he mumbled. ‘They don’t even wrap broken ribs anymore. Trevor told me when he broke his when he got thrown from that horse last year.’
‘That may be true, but you’re still going. Besides, it would make me feel better, so please, I don’t want to fight with you on this.’
Holly entered the kitchen at that moment, and Alyssa noticed her eyes immediately landed on her brother as her gaze went from head to toe and back again, assuring herself last night was real, that her brother was home. ‘It might not happen often,’ she said, ‘but I agree with Mom.’ She smiled as she sat next to Isaac. ‘Do you want me to go with you?’
‘I don’t want to go with anyone. I don’t want to go at all.’ Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes, and Alyssa sighed.
‘I know you don’t want to, sweetie. But you need to, and sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.’ She set her spatula on the counter and walked over, putting one finger under his chin and tilting his face up to hers. ‘Kind of like you did when you took a chance to escape. You knew the possible consequences, but you did it anyway, even though you were sick, weak, and terrified beyond belief.’
‘I guess.’
‘Besides, that nasty bruise on your ankle is twice as big and blacker than it was last night. It looks like it’s trying to catch up to the one on your ribcage,’ she said softly, trying not to wince at the brightly colored bruises peppering her son’s body, trying even harder not to let the helpless rage she felt at not protecting him from all this show through.
As if mentioning the ankle brought it back to his attention, Isaac leaned down and probed the tender skin, lifting his sweats to his knees so he could better see it.
Nervous in a way she wasn’t accustomed to, Alyssa spoke from the heart. ‘What you went through was traumatic and terrifying. But, what you did, escaping like you did, as sick as you were – that took courage and strength. And I’m proud of you, and so are Dad and Holly.’ Holly’s head bobbed up and down as her hand covered her brother’s, both her children openly crying
now. ‘And Grandma – who will be here when you get back from the doctor’s.’ She cleared her throat as her own emotions threatened to choke her words. ‘And you should be proud of yourself. When you accept you’re safe again, concentrate on that, okay? You were, you are so brave. And because of that, you survived. Remember that when times get tough… because they will. But we will all be here to help navigate those deep waters, okay?’
Isaac spoke over a lump in his throat. ‘Yeah, okay.’
When Alyssa looked up, Brock stood in the doorway, wiping his own eyes as he held her gaze and mouthed, ‘I love you.’
Isaac scooted back from the table. ‘I’m going to jump in the shower – or get in gingerly, because jumping’s probably out for now,’ he slipped in the small joke to break the choking tension in the room. ‘I’ll be back before breakfast is done.’
On his way upstairs, he yelled down. ‘Maybe later I can talk you into making me fudge brownies.’
Everyone laughed, but she knew she’d be baking later. Probably right alongside Mabel. She didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her she was trying to make up for self-reproach brought on by not protecting her son in the first place.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Sunday, April 7
The vacant house no longer an option – the police weren’t even trying to be covert; a uniformed officer was parked outside the home at all times – Evan hunkered down in a group of bushes in Alyssa’s neighbor’s yard. He’d already decided that if they caught him, he’d kill them, and their blood would be on Alyssa’s hands, along with those of her family. And while he preferred a full view of her front yard, he settled for a partial view of both the front and back.
Yesterday, he distracted himself from his urge to be here by planning. The first thing he did was head to the hardware store where he purchased chains, posts, and hooks and then got to work revamping his basement to accommodate four guests instead of one. Then he headed upstairs to his room, where a box sat on his bed next to the items he’d stolen from Alyssa’s house, among other things. He secured one of the photos from her album to the inside, triple-checked that he hadn’t forgotten anything, then sealed the box with packing tape. It was too bad he wouldn’t get to see her open it. The expression on her face would be priceless.
As soon as the post office in Tijeras was open, he climbed into his car. He’d considered rebirthing Hunter Jenkins for the drive in, but since his face had been plastered all over the news, he thought it safest to leave the prosthetics behind. Unconcerned that the kid might’ve been able to describe him enough to get a likeness on the news so soon, he decided he’d go as himself. After all, he’d been doing it for years.
Even so, he took precautions, knowing this delivery was crucial. He had no intention of being caught before he finished this. Finished her.
As it was Saturday, the line was long, and Evan scooted the box in front of him until it was his turn, and then he hefted his package onto the counter. The employee was an older lady who’d seen better days. ‘How can I help you today?’ she asked.
‘I need to overnight this.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but the mail doesn’t run on Sunday. We can have it delivered by Monday, though, if you’d like.’ The woman – Irene, according to the lanyard draped around her neck – glanced at the address. ‘Oh,’ she said, lowering her glasses to squint at him. ‘You sure you want to pay for that? It’s going to Albuquerque, so it’ll probably get there by Monday, no later than Tuesday, I’d think. Of course, we can’t guarantee that.’
Evan’s back teeth scraped together as he resisted the urge to slap the lady. Yes, you stupid cow, I do want to pay for overnight. I don’t care if it’s just going next door. ‘I want to make sure it gets there on time. It’s for a special occasion, so I don’t mind paying the extra cost.’
‘Then I’ll need you to fill this out, if you don’t mind.’ She grabbed a form and a pen, setting them both down in front of him while she stamped the box in several places, and after he assured her he wasn’t sending weapons, money, or the like, she asked if he wanted insurance.
‘Oh, I don’t think you can give me the kind of insurance I’ll need,’ he said cryptically.
‘And it looks like you forgot your return address. You’ll want that in case something goes wrong with the delivery.’
‘Not necessary,’ he said in a tone that brooked no further argument.
‘Okay, sir. Up to you,’ she said in a way that promised she’d mentally added idiot at the end, then she weighed the box and gave him the total. He counted out some bills and handed them over, watching as another man lifted the box off the counter and set it on the floor behind him. ‘Here’s your change, and have a nice day,’ she said.
‘Oh, I intend to,’ he said, turning away. ‘Believe me, I intend to.’
Today, he’d set an alarm for three thirty a.m., and parked at a twenty-four-hour store, jogging the rest of the way to the detective’s house. That was when he’d noticed the cop car. These bushes were the next best option, and so he’d skirted around the house and through the neighbor’s yard to hide in them.
And he’d waited. When the sun finally rose, he watched as, several times, Alyssa stepped outside, her hand moving to the gun holstered at her waist as she walked to the street and observed the comings and goings of her neighborhood. Once, when her eyes flowed past her neighbor’s house, right over his hiding place, he bit his cheek to stop from laughing. He’d infiltrated her safe haven time and time again, and here he was, once again, right under her nose, and she didn’t have a clue. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he told her.
Finally, she waved to the officer and turned to go back in, and as she lifted the hair off the back of her neck, a memory of their mother – her mother – doing the same thing ignited his temper, and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands to stop himself from lunging at her and slitting her throat right there. If he did that, it would be over too quickly, and he needed her to suffer.
And though the thought of it nauseated him, he’d decided yesterday as he’d prepared his basement, that one of the first things he would do was take her precious Isaac down there, but he wouldn’t gouge his eyes out first. No, first he’d do all those things that Carl had done to him when he’d first abducted him. He’d force her to watch every second, and any time she closed her eyes or looked away – any time any of them did – he’d start all over. But he wouldn’t muffle Isaac’s screams as Carl had done to him the first time. No, he’d let those screams tear at her mind as she watched helplessly.
He’d make her hell last days, weeks if he had to, before he finally ended it. And then he’d burn the cabin to the ground with them inside. Maybe he’d burn it down while they were still alive. Either way, he’d leave New Mexico and settle somewhere up north, maybe Montana or Washington. He already knew that once he finished this, he’d never take another woman. There would be no need. After killing the person who’d ruined his life, after making her pay, he would be vindicated once and for all. He only wished he hadn’t stumbled upon her parents’ obituaries because he relished the idea of making them pay, too.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Monday, April 8
Clicking keyboards, tapping fingernails, ringing phones, voices shouting over one another, screams of innocence, and dirty, smudged windows were normally great distractions, but this morning, Alyssa ignored all of it. Two composite sketches lay side by side in the conference room, and she studied them. There was a vague familiarity about him, but she couldn’t really say what exactly it was.
Because Isaac had met Liz in the past, he was comfortable with her, so she’d explained that she’d be happy to sketch a profile from his description, but suggested they use another forensic artist to speak to Tex Rivers, afraid she’d be influenced by doing both, subconsciously putting in similarities that didn’t belong. Alyssa had sat in the living room and watched, in awe at how Liz coaxed minute details from Isaac’s memory. The same could be said f
or the man who’d made a composite from Tex Rivers’ description, especially since Tex had barely gotten a glimpse of Isaac’s kidnapper.
She picked up one sketch, then the other and held them up to the light, as if the fluorescents blinking down would provide all the answers eluding her.
Absently, she snapped at the hair band around her wrist as she glared at the drawings. Then she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, then immediately took it back down, and began snapping her wrist again.
‘The rest of the gang’s on the way.’ Cord walked into the room, breaking into her thoughts.
Alyssa nodded. She hadn’t wanted to leave Isaac today, had cringed when he’d announced this morning that he was returning to school. ‘There’s no rush. Your teachers will understand.’ She’d make sure of it.
‘Dad just got that big contract, and you have to go so you can find… so you can find him,’ he’d said. And she’d heard what he wasn’t saying: I feel safer at school, surrounded by classmates and friends, keeping my mind busy.
Reluctantly, she’d agreed because he was right.
So as soon as she arrived, she sent a text to her partner that they needed to round everyone up. Because it was no longer a matter of finding Callie McCormick’s killer. It was a matter of finding the man who’d kidnapped her son. And until she was pulled from the case, she was working it. She turned the sketches toward Cord. ‘Does he look familiar to you at all?’
‘Not really,’ he said. Then looking pointedly at her red wrist, he added, ‘I think it’s safe to say that’s not helping.’ A few seconds later, Hal wheeled himself in, followed by Joe.
Joe threw his thumb out like he was hitchhiking. ‘Liz is talking to Ruby about something, and Tony’s just putting something in the fridge.’
As she waited for the others, she thought about texting Isaac. She glanced at the clock. 10:13, which meant he’d be in Spanish class right now. He wasn’t supposed to have his phone on in school, but she knew he kept it on anyway.
