by B. J Daniels
Gillian hated that she’d let Marc keep her from her sister. But the few times she’d visited he’d made her so uncomfortable that she hadn’t gone back. And Marc had put Becky on a leash that didn’t allow her to come up to Big Sky to visit often. It wasn’t that he forbade it, he just made sure Becky was too busy to go anywhere.
Rubbing a hand over her face, she tried to concentrate on what lay ahead rather than wallowing in regret. Becky was stable. Gillian couldn’t count on her regaining consciousness. It was why she had to find Andy—and that damned ledger before Marc did.
Austin slowed as they reached the back of the Baker house. She saw him look down the alley both ways before he drew her into the shadows along the side of the garage. The yard stretched before them. Huge pines grew along the sides against a tall wooden fence.
They walked toward the back of the house staying in the deep cold shadows of the pines. At the back door, Austin hesitated for a moment. She could tell he was listening. She heard voices but in the distance. Someone was calling a child into the house for dinner. Closer, that same dog barked.
Austin headed up the steps to the back door. She followed trying to be as quiet as possible. The houses weren’t particularly close, but this was a small town. Neighbors kept an eye on each other’s homes, especially when they knew a family was away for Christmas.
That was where the Bakers had gone, wasn’t it?
Gillian took a deep breath as she saw Austin pull out the key. It was such a long shot, she realized now, that she felt silly even mentioning it. But it didn’t matter if the key worked or not. She knew Austin would get them into the house. She was praying once they got in the house that they wouldn’t find evidence of Marc having been there—and especially not of any kind of struggle.
She held her breath as he tried the key. It slipped right in. Austin shot her a look, then turned the key. She felt her eyes widen as the door opened.
“Rebecca left the key,” she said more to herself than to Austin. She knew she sounded as disbelieving as he must have felt. Her heart lifted with the first feeling of real hope she’d felt since Marc had abducted her. “It has to mean that Nancy has my nephew, that Andy is safe.”
* * *
AS CANDY APPROACHED, the security guard ran a hand down the front of his uniform as if to get out any wrinkles and remind himself to suck in his stomach. He stood a little straighter as well, puffing up a bit, without even realizing he was doing it, Victor thought amused.
“May I help you?” the guard asked her.
Candy gave him one of her disarming smiles.
Victor saw that it was working like a charm. He looked into one of the rooms, before moving down the hall to Rebecca’s. He could hear Candy asking for directions, explaining that her best friend had just had her third baby.
“Ten pounds, eleven ounces! I can’t even imagine.”
Victor smiled and gave a somber nod to the guard as he pushed open the door to Rebecca’s room. He was so close, he could almost taste it.
“Just a minute,” the guard said, stopping him.
“I told the family I would look in on Mrs. Stewart,” Victor said.
“Did you say first floor like down by the cafeteria?” Candy asked the guard, then dropped her purse. It fell open. Coins tinkled on the floor. A lipstick rolled to the guard’s feet.
The guard began to stoop down to help pick it up, but shot Victor another look before waving him in.
“I’m so sorry,” Candy was saying as the door closed behind Victor. “I’m so clumsy. How did you say I get to my friend’s room? I would have sworn she said it was on this floor.”
Victor approached the bed. He’d met Marc’s wife only once and that had been by accident. He liked to keep his business and personal lives entirely separate. But there’d been a foul-up in a shipment so he’d stopped by Marc’s auto shop one night after hours. Marc had told him he would be there so he hadn’t been surprised to see a light burning in the rear office.
As he’d pushed open the side door, though, he’d come face-to-face with a very pregnant and pretty dark-haired woman. She’d had a scowl on her face and he could see that she’d been crying. It hadn’t taken much of a leap to know she must be Marc’s wife. Or mistress.
“Sorry,” she’d said, sounding breathless.
He’d realized that he’d startled her. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Are you here to see Marc?”
“I left my car earlier,” Victor had ad-libbed. “The owner said he might have it finished later tonight. I saw the light on....”
She’d nodded, clearly no longer interested. “He’s in his office,” she’d said and he’d moved aside to let her leave.
As the door closed behind her, Marc had come out of his office looking sheepish. “I didn’t know she was stopping by.” He’d shrugged. “My wife. She’s pregnant and impossible. I’ll be so glad when this baby is finally born. Maybe she will get off my ass.”
Victor hadn’t cared about Marc’s marital problems. He’d never guessed that night that Rebecca Stewart might someday try to take them all down in one fell swoop.
As he stepped to the side of the bed and looked down at the woman lying there, he could see the brutality Marc had unleashed on her. His hands balled into fists at his side. He’d known this kind of violence firsthand and had spent a lifetime trying to overcome it in himself.
“Rebecca?”
Not even the flicker of an eyelid.
“Rebecca?” he said, leaning closer. “How are you doing today?”
Still nothing. Glancing toward the door, he could hear Candy just outside the room, still monopolizing the guard’s attention.
Victor pulled the syringe from his pocket. He couldn’t let this woman wake up and tell the police where they could find the ledger. He uncapped the syringe and reached for the IV tube.
Rebecca’s eyes flew open before he could administer the drug. She let out a sound just a moment before the alarm on the machine next to her went off.
Chapter Nineteen
Marc could feel time slipping through his fingers like water. He tried to remain calm, to think. With a start, he realized something. If Gillian knew where the ledger and Andy were, then she would go to both. Once she had the ledger in her hot little hands, she would turn it over to the cops. Victor would be on his private jet, winging his way out of the country—after he had Marc killed.
Which meant Gillian really didn’t know where either item was. It was the only thing that made any sense because otherwise, by now, the ledger would be in the hands of the police.
But she would be looking for it. Was she stumbling around in the dark like he was? Or had her sister given her a hint where it was? Unlike her, he had cops after him. He felt as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Once that ledger surfaced... He didn’t want to think about how much worse things could get for him.
For a moment, he almost wished that Rebecca had cut his throat and he’d died right there at her feet—after he’d pulled the trigger and put the both of them out of their misery.
Marc shook himself out of those dark thoughts. If he was right and Gillian didn’t have a clue where the ledger was any more than he did...well, then there was still hope. He dug out his cell phone.
When the hospital answered, he asked about Rebecca’s condition.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “I can’t give out that information.”
“There must be someone I can talk to. I’m her brother. I can’t fly out until later in the week. I’m afraid it will be too late.”
“Let me connect you to her floor.”
He waited. A male nurse came on the line. He could hear noise in the background. Something was happening. Was it Rebecca?
When he asked about his “sister’s” condition, the nur
se started to say he couldn’t give out that information over the phone. “How about her doctor? Surely I can talk to someone there.” He gave him his hard-luck pitch about not being able to get there right away.
“Perhaps you’d like to talk to the pastor who just went into her room,” the nurse said.
Pastor? Marc stifled a curse. Victor. That son of a...
“I’m sorry, I don’t see him,” the nurse said. “Why don’t I have the doctor call you?”
Marc slammed down the phone and let out a string of oaths. How dare Victor. Marc had told him he’d handle this. Not only that, he wanted to be the person who killed her—after he found out where she’d hidden the ledger and his son.
So was Rebecca dead? The last person Victor had paid a visit to while dressed as a pastor...well, needless to say, that person had taken a turn for the worst.
* * *
ONCE THE DOOR of the Baker house closed behind them, Austin snapped on his small penlight and handed a second one to Gillian. The silence inside the house gave him the impression that no one had been home for some time.
They were standing in the kitchen. He swung the light over the counter. Empty. Everything was immaculate. No dishes in the sink. Stepping to the refrigerator, he opened it. There was nothing but condiments. No leftovers that would spoil while the family was gone. As he closed the door, he noticed the photographs tacked to it and the children’s artwork. There was no photo of Gillian’s sister.
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” Gillian said from the doorway to the living room. “But they must have Andy. My sister wouldn’t have left me the key unless...” She stopped to look at him in the dim light.
He agreed, but he knew they both wanted proof. “Let’s check the kid’s room upstairs.” It made sense that if this family had Andy they might have left something behind to assure Gillian that her nephew was fine, or, better yet, another clue as to where Gillian could find the ledger and put Marc away for a long time.
As they moved through the living room, Gillian whispered, “No Christmas tree. No presents. They aren’t coming back until after Christmas.”
Or until they hear that it’s safe, he thought. Had Rebecca told them she would call them when it was safe? But what if she couldn’t call?
They climbed the stairs to the bedrooms. It didn’t take long to find the child’s room. It was bright colored with stuffed animals piled on the bed. Gillian stepped to the bed. He knew she must be looking for her sister’s doll. It wasn’t there.
“Do you see anything of Andy’s?” he asked.
She sighed and shook her head. “His favorite toy is a plush owl, but it’s not here. Then again, it wouldn’t be. He’d want it with him, especially if he wasn’t with his mother.” Her voice broke.
They checked the other rooms but found nothing. Going back downstairs, Austin looked more closely in the living room. Rebecca had been scared of her husband. But her clues for Gillian did make him wonder about the state of her mind. He reminded himself that she’d been terrified of Marc. The clues had to be vague, things only Gillian would understand.
They searched the house, but found nothing that would indicate that Andy Stewart had been here. Like Gillian, he kept telling himself that Rebecca had left them a key to this house. Didn’t that mean that the Bakers had Andy and all were safe since there was no sign of a struggle in the house?
He’d stopped to go through a desk in the study when he heard Gillian go into the kitchen. She had looked as despondent as he felt. He’d been so sure they would find—
Gillian let out a cry. Austin rushed into the kitchen to find her standing in front of the refrigerator. Her hand was covering her mouth and her eyes were full of tears as her penlight glared off the refrigerator door.
He’d checked the kitchen first thing and hadn’t seen anything. As he moved closer, she pointed at what he’d assumed had been artwork done by the daughter. What he hadn’t seen was a note of any kind.
“What?” he asked, looking from Gillian to the front of the refrigerator in confusion.
She carefully plucked one of the pieces of artwork from the door. “Andy.”
He looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand. It was a drawing of an owl with huge round eyes. Someone had taken a crayon to it. The owl was almost indistinguishable under the purple scribbles.
“Andy?” he repeated confused.
“I told you. He loves owls.”
That seemed a leap even to him.
Gillian began to laugh. “Rebecca drew this at my house when she and Andy came up to visit. Andy’s favorite color is purple.”
“You’re sure this is the same drawing?” he asked. He couldn’t help being skeptical.
“Positive. Look at this.” She pointed to a spot on the owl. The artist had drawn in feathers before they had been scribbled over. In the feathers he saw what appeared to be numbers. “It’s a phone number. I’m betting it is Nancy Baker’s cell phone number.”
* * *
VICTOR POCKETED THE syringe as he stepped back from the hospital bed. Rebecca Stewart’s eyes were open. She was staring right at him, a wild, frightened look in her dark eyes.
As a doctor and two nurses rushed in, the security guard at their heels, Victor clutched his Bible and moved aside.
“What happened?” the doctor demanded.
“Nothing,” he said. “That is, I was saying a prayer over her when she suddenly opened her eyes and that alarm went off.”
The doctor began barking orders to the nurses. “If you don’t mind stepping out, Pastor.”
“I have other patients I promised to see, but I will check back before I leave,” Victor said, but the doctor was busy and didn’t seem to care.
On the overhead intercom, a nurse was calling a code blue as he walked toward the door. He felt the security guard’s gaze on him as he stepped aside to let a crash cart be wheeled into the room. Without looking at the man, Victor started down the hallway away from all the noise and commotion in Rebecca’s hospital room.
He half expected the security guard to call after him, but when he glanced back as he ducked into the first restroom he came to he saw that the guard was more interested in what was going on in Rebecca’s room.
Reaching into his pocket he put on the latex gloves, then carefully removed the syringe from his other pocket and stuffed it down into the trash. Removing the gloves, he discarded them, as well. After washing his hands, he left.
The security guard didn’t look his way as Victor turned and walked down the hallway, stopping at one of the empty rooms for a moment as if visiting a patient.
The guard hadn’t asked his name. No one had. As he left the empty room, he saw a nurse coming out of Rebecca’s room with the crash cart. He couldn’t tell by the woman’s face what the outcome had been for the patient.
Nor did he dare wait to find out. Turning, he walked out of the hospital.
Chapter Twenty
Marc felt sick to his stomach. His fingers shook as he dialed the hospital. Again, he pretended to be her brother.
“I have to know her condition. I can’t get a flight out because of the weather right now. Tell me I’m not going to get there too late.”
“Just a moment. Let me check,” the nurse finally said, relenting.
He waited, his heart pounding. As long as Rebecca was alive, he stood a chance of fixing this mess. He would do anything she wanted. He would convince her to give up the ledger to save not just her own life but his and their son’s. She had no idea the kind of people who would be after her and Andy.
But if Victor had killed her... Hell, he thought. The cops would think he’d done it! Or paid someone to do it. What had Victor been thinking?
The answer came to him like another blow, this one more painful than the crystal tumbler. Victor planned to
kill everyone who knew about the ledger and what was in it. He would take his chances that wherever Rebecca had hidden it, the incriminating book wouldn’t turn up. Or if it did, the finder wouldn’t have a clue what it was and wouldn’t take it to the authorities. Or...it was this third option that made his pulse jump. Or...Victor was tying up loose ends before he skipped the country.
The nurse came back on the line. Marc held his breath.
“Good news. Your sister’s condition has been upgraded. She had an episode earlier, but the doctor is cautiously optimistic about her complete recovery.”
He tried to breathe. Victor had failed? His relief was real. “Can I talk to her?”
“I’m afraid not. The doctor wants her to rest. She is drifting in and out of consciousness. Perhaps by tomorrow...”
* * *
GILLIAN COULDN’T BEAR to wait until they returned to the motel to make the call, but Austin was anxious to get out of the house. She tried the number she’d found on Rebecca and Andy’s artwork on the walk back to the motel.
The phone was answered on the second ring. “Gillian?”
“Nancy.” She began to cry.
“Is everything all right?” Nancy asked, sounding as anxious as Gillian felt.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so relieved. Tell me you have Andy.”
Several heartbeats of unbearable silence before Nancy said, “He’s safe.”
“Thank God.”
“He keeps asking about his mother, though. Rebecca said she would join us before Christmas.”
Gillian didn’t know how to tell her. “Rebecca’s in the hospital. The last I heard, she’s unconscious.”
“Oh, no. And Marc?”
“He’s on the loose. Tell me you have Andy somewhere Marc wouldn’t dream of looking.”
“We do.”
“A deputy sheriff from Texas is helping me try to find a ledger that will send Marc to prison. Do you know anything about it?”
