Who was after him?
And why?
He’d racked his brain trying to figure out who could hate him so much, but each time he drew a blank. It didn’t make any sense.
He made the turn onto the gravel road that led to Lance’s house. When was the last time he’d been here? A month? Two? Since Lance was at his house so often, he rarely needed to stop by his friend’s place.
Lance had been a good buddy, even though he could be a grouchy bear at times. He’d changed a lot since their carefree days as football stars. Jackson had closely followed Lance’s career during the years that his friend had remained in the NFL after he’d left. Jackson could remember sitting on the couch watching his old team while Hailey learned to walk and later when she sat on the floor and played with her dolls and plastic ponies.
The burning tightness in his throat threatened to strangle him again. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do. Where else to look. Where is she?
Lance’s clapboard house looked dingy compared to the crisp whiteness of the light snowfall. Trash, tools and pop cans littered the area. The place was more run-down than he’d seen it since Lance had started fixing it up. It was in worse shape than it had appeared to be a few days ago when he’d pointed it out to Mariah. Machine parts were scattered on the ground in the area in front of the barn where Lance was rebuilding a classic ’66 Mustang in his spare time. Up close, he noticed that paint had chipped off the picket fence that encircled the front yard of the house, leaving it looking sad and neglected.
“It looks better from a distance,” Mariah said. “Not really the kind of place you’d expect him to own.”
“What kind of place do you think he’d buy?”
Mariah shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. He seems kind of flashy. I figured he’d live in a house that was as nice as that fancy car he drives.”
“At least it has indoor plumbing.” Flashing Mariah a teasing grin, Jackson put the truck in Park and turned off the motor.
Ignoring him, she opened her door and slid out. She walked around the front of the vehicle and wrapped her arms around her torso. “Do you think it’s getting colder, or does it just feel that way because of the snow?”
He looked up at the gray sky, batting his eyes as snowflakes clung to his lashes. “I think maybe the wind has picked up. I sure hope Hailey...is someplace warm.”
For a moment, he thought Mariah would burst into tears again. Instead, she made a valiant effort at blinking them back. He almost envied women that it was all right for them to cry.
They clomped up the three wooden steps to the porch, and then he twisted the knob and opened the door, allowing Mariah to go in first. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness inside before he located the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the kitchen in a warm glow.
“Oh, my.” Mariah lifted a hand to her mouth. “What a mess!”
Dirty dishes littered the countertops. Empty TV dinners coated with dried food and crushed soda-pop cans were scattered across the table and stove top. A distinctly sour odor attacked his nostrils.
“I’m almost afraid to see the bathroom.”
He looked at Mariah. “Lance always was a bit of a slob, but this is something else. I’ve never seen it like this. He used to pay Kelly to come over and clean for him, but that didn’t last long.”
“I can see why if she had to deal with this all the time.” Her lips tightened into a thin white line, and then she heaved a sigh. “Which way to the restroom?”
“Down the hall, first door on the right.” Jackson walked to the window and stared out. Please, God. Help me find my little girl. Keep her safe.
A few minutes later, Mariah returned looking much relieved. Her gaze traveled over the kitchen, and she shuddered. “I was thinking of asking for a drink of water, but I’m afraid I might get salmonella poisoning or something.”
“Try the fridge. Lance and I both got hooked on drinking bottled water because we traveled so much during our football years. You never knew what the local water would taste like.”
Using only her thumb and index finger, Mariah carefully opened the refrigerator, as if scared she might contract a disease. Jackson smiled and shook his head. He walked around the table and took the bottle from Mariah’s hands and opened it for her.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Her teasing grin sent tingles of delight charging through him. She reclaimed the bottle, tilted it up and took a swig, the tender part of her neck moving as she swallowed. Lifting his hand, he ran his finger across it. Her skin was so soft. He loved to touch her. She stared at him wide-eyed and swallowed again.
Stepping closer, he pulled her into his arms. He’d decided that he wouldn’t kiss her again, but he needed to feel her arms around him. There was truth in human touch being good for the soul.
Mariah melted against him as he laid his cheek on her head and held her for a few minutes. The old refrigerator hummed as the compressor kicked in, and the clock on the wall ticked off each second in a steady beat. Another second that Hailey was lost to him. How many seconds or minutes or hours would pass before she was returned?
He blinked his eyes as his gaze traveled over the littered cabinet. A box of Fruity Flakes sat open, next to a milk carton. His chest ached as if it were being squeezed with a vise grip. That was Hailey’s favorite breakfast cereal. She loved the multicolored flakes and even used them for making decorations. Last year at Christmas, she’d meticulously picked out all the red and green flakes and glued them to a Popsicle-stick picture frame. After Deuce helped her glue a picture of herself to it, she gave it to Jackson for a Christmas present. It still sat on his desk. Funny, he never knew that Lance liked Fruity Flakes, too.
All of a sudden, Mariah went rigid. Her gasp penetrated the quiet and she pulled away. “Jackson, isn’t that Hailey’s coat?”
FOURTEEN
Jackson’s gaze followed Mariah’s finger to a blue denim jacket, lying on the floor under the table. His heart jolted. His mind raced. Wasn’t that the coat Hailey was wearing when she disappeared?
“Why would Hailey’s jacket be here?” Mariah voiced his unspoken thoughts. “Have you all visited here lately?”
Jackson shook his head. Maybe he was wrong. Hailey had several coats, and he’d never paid all that much attention to them. Kelly usually took Hailey shopping to buy clothes. “I guess she could have left it last time we were here, though I can’t remember when that was.”
She picked up the coat and studied it. “No, I’m sure I saw Hailey wearing this since I’ve been here. It looks like the one Kelly told the sheriff Hailey had on yesterday.” Her face suddenly went pale as she reached in one of the pockets. She pulled her hand out and in her palm rested something long and purple. Mariah looked at him with a stunned expression.
He immediately recognized the four-inch-long purple flashlight. Along the side he read the inscription Dallas Observer. The night Mariah had arrived, he’d caught Hailey in her room after bedtime looking at a picture book by flashlight. That flashlight. The one Mariah had given to her only a few days ago.
His gaze lifted to Mariah’s. His heart ricocheted in his chest. His mind swirled.
“This is the jacket Hailey was wearing when she disappeared. How in the world did it get here?”
She voiced his very thoughts. Suddenly, something that had been nagging at him made sense. He reached for his hat, yanked it off and smacked it against his leg. A fire burning deep within him threatened to ignite. Had he been duped by his best friend?
Jackson tugged his daughter’s coat from Mariah’s hand and sniffed Hailey’s scent. His eyes watered, and he hugged the jacket to his chest. He didn’t want to believe Lance would take his daughter, but the truth was staring him in the face. He cleared his throat. “Something’s been bothering me. I’ve always taught Hailey to fight back hard if someone t
ried to kidnap her. I told her no matter what they said or did, she should scream her head off and kick and fight. We even practiced. I wondered how someone could take her and nobody heard a peep.”
What if Lance had done something to Ms. Garrett and then tricked Hailey into going with him? Could his best friend have kidnapped his daughter? He pulled a chair out and all but melted into it. No!
“Would Hailey have gone willingly with Lance if he’d said the right thing?”
Jackson nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He grabbed hold of an empty plastic cup on the table and squeezed so hard it cracked.
The idea that his supposed friend would abuse his relationship and steal his daughter sent an unstoppable rage building within him. Jackson growled and lurched up, lifted the edge of the table and sent it tumbling over with a loud racket that made Mariah jump.
She hurried to his side, grabbed his upper arms and forced him to look at her. “You have a right to be angry. There’s no way you could have prepared for something like this. But we aren’t even positive Lance’s done anything. We need proof.”
Jackson glared at her. He knew. Somehow he knew. Lance had always been jealous of his success and of his finding a woman to love when Lance couldn’t. And Lance had taken several hard knocks lately with getting hurt and losing his mother.
“You don’t suppose Hailey could be around here somewhere, do you?” Mariah squeezed the plastic water bottle in her hands. “Why would Lance be out helping to find her if he did something with Hailey? Unless—”
“It’s his alibi.” Jackson stared at her a moment then spun into motion. His daughter might be here! In this very house. “Hailey! Where are you, baby?”
He raced from room to room, calling out her name. Searching. Hunting. His lips moved in a steady prayer. “Please let her be okay. Help me find her, Lord.”
He opened the closet doors in Lance’s bedroom while Mariah searched the other room. Nothing. Just Lance’s junk. More and more junk. He’d never noticed before how much of a slob his old friend was.
Friend. Ha! He’d have to stop thinking in those terms if Lance had anything to do with Hailey’s disappearance. He still didn’t want to believe it was possible.
Something skittered across his mind, and he struggled to grasp it. He’d always wondered how someone could get close enough to his barn to set it on fire without Baron barking. Could that be why Lance had fed Baron a biscuit every time he’d arrived at Jackson’s house? He heaved a derisive snort. Had that been part of the man’s plan? Make friends with Baron so he could move around and destroy Jackson’s property without a peep from his dog?
He crossed the room, and his heart jumped. On the bed was a half-packed duffel bag. Lance’s clothes had been tossed in haphazardly. He didn’t remember Lance mentioning taking a trip.
“Jackson, you’d better come here.”
His blood suddenly ran cold at the ominous tone of Mariah’s voice. He rushed down the short hallway and into a surprisingly tidy bedroom. White-faced, Mariah looked up from the closet. Both of the sliding doors were open, revealing a four-foot-wide opening. On the closet walls were dozens of photos. Pictures of him and Lance in their glory days before they’d quit football—all with Jackson’s face x-ed out. And there were more.
He rushed into the room to gain a full view of the closet, and his heart stopped. His blood ran cold. The wall was a giant collage of him, Misty and Hailey. There were several pictures of Kelly and even a few of Mariah.
She moved to his side. “This is creepy stuff.”
He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. Sweat ran down his temples, tickling his cheeks. His heart pounded out a frantic rhythm as he stared at photos he’d never seen before.
There were revealing pictures of Misty, which could only have been taken by someone she trusted. Someone she had been intimate with.
He closed his eyes, wanting to push the images away. Anger, disappointment and shock coursed through him like a turbulent river. Why hadn’t he recognized the signs? Lance had always been quick to hug Misty and place a kiss on her cheek whenever he had seen her. Jackson had just thought it was his charming friend’s way of greeting her. Not once had he considered that Lance might have been the man Misty was leaving him for.
Jackson curled his hand into a tight fist. He’d even let the guy date his little sister. How could he have been so blind? His gut swirled as he thought about Lance romancing his sister and—his wife.
“We’ve got to call Kincaid. He needs to see this.” Mariah’s words cut into his thoughts.
Jackson stepped forward and yanked off a picture of Misty in a revealing negligee. As he reached for a picture of him and Hailey horsing around near his barn, Mariah’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Don’t. You’re tampering with important evidence.”
“This was my wife,” he gritted out through his clenched teeth.
“I know, and I’m so sorry, Jackson. But you have to leave this alone until the authorities see it. It shows Lance’s state of mind.”
He sagged against her, needing her strength and support. “I never thought for a second that Lance was the man Misty loved. It never entered my mind. She was leaving me, you know. The night she was killed we had a terrible argument. She told me that she was in love with someone else. She was leaving, and the other man was going to raise my child. I can’t tell you how that tore me up.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson. I didn’t know.”
“Nobody knew. Right after Misty’s accident, the doctors did an emergency C-section in order to save Hailey’s life. Misty was brain-dead and not expected to live. She didn’t make it through the night. Unable to face my friends and the media, I took Hailey as soon as she could leave and disappeared.”
Mariah tightened her grip on him, and he absorbed the comfort emanating from her. “That’s such a sad story. I don’t know how you endured it all.”
“I don’t think I could have, if it hadn’t been for meeting God. He became my strength. And I had to live for my daughter.”
“But I don’t understand how Lance could so convincingly pretend to be your friend all these years. Why would he?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Underneath his duster, Mariah ran her hands up and down his back. “I’m so sorry, Jackson. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”
He didn’t know what he was feeling, either. Hatred for Lance swelled within him. The man he’d thought was his best friend had stolen Jackson’s wife, attempted to woo his sister and had now taken his daughter. Why, God? Why did You let this happen?
With his free hand, Jackson pulled out his cell phone and called Detective Kincaid and told him what they’d discovered. “You’ll let Sheriff Parker know?” He nodded his head as Kincaid said yes, and then he turned off the phone and pocketed it.
“Kincaid will be here soon. He said to wait here until he arrives.” He rested his chin on Mariah’s head and stared out the window. The peaceful snowfall was such a contrast to his raging emotions.
He knew in his heart this wasn’t God’s doing. It was the hand of man. Lance, a man corrupted by selfishness and greed. A man who’d refused to accept Christ as his Savior. He’d talked to Lance many times about God, but Lance always resisted, making up some lame excuse why he didn’t want to become a Christian. Jackson had thought if he prayed enough that, in time, Lance would see the light.
Jackson knew how Jesus must have felt at Judas’s betrayal. Closing his eyes, he sought God for strength and the ability to forgive his enemy, just as the Bible instructed. It was a hard thing to do, and he wasn’t sure if he could. He gazed at the pictures of his daughter again—pictures of her when she was small, others of her with him or Kelly and those with Sabrina and Lilly. Lance had been spying on them for years. He wanted to smash his fist into the
man’s face.
Please, Lord, show me where Hailey is. Keep her safe and help her to not be afraid.
A familiar bark drew his attention away from his prayers and out the window. A black-and-white dog raced by. Baron. Jackson slipped out of Mariah’s arms and moved to the window just in time to see the dog shimmy through a hole under the side of the barn. Why would Baron be way over here at Lance’s? And why would he want to get into Lance’s barn so badly?
Hailey!
He spun around so fast he almost knocked Mariah over. “Call Kincaid. Tell him I think Hailey’s in Lance’s barn. Then call Sheriff Parker and tell him what we found. Ask him to take Lance into custody.”
He raced out the bedroom door with Mariah close on his heels.
“Why do you think she’s in the barn?”
“Baron just crawled in there,” he called over his shoulder.
Adrenaline charged through him. His daughter was in Lance’s barn! He could feel it. His boots smacked loudly on the wooden floor as he jogged down the hall. He jerked open the back door and raced outside. He moved as if in slow motion. He couldn’t get there fast enough. Skidding to a stop on the thin layer of snow, he grabbed the handle and yanked. A new latch and lock had been installed. Frantic, he searched for something to break off the latch.
Nothing.
He hurried around the side of the building to examine the hole that Baron had crawled through. There was no way he’d fit through it. Even Mariah was too big.
Turning in a circle, he scanned the area, looking for something to use as leverage. His gaze fell on the barn’s side window. He wiped off the snowflakes clinging to the frigid glass and peered inside. “Hailey! Can you hear me, baby?” His warm breath made a foggy circle on the pane.
Baron’s excited bark echoed from inside. Jackson wiped off the fog and stared hard but couldn’t see anything in the dark interior. He realized then that he was staring at the back of a cabinet or some big wooden structure. Lance must have wanted to make sure nobody could break in.
Rancher Under Fire Page 17
