THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC

by Patricia Rice

  “She’s inside,” he whispered, still off balance from this impossibility. “She can’t come out. Are you Mikala?” He thought he saw a flutter of white on the driver’s side of the van.

  “You’re the man?” she whispered back. “You’ll help us?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He hoped. He had utterly no clue what he was expected to do with a runaway child. He was a law abiding type, not a kidnapper. “Don’t go away,” he warned. “It really is dangerous out there.”

  “I want to see the lady,” she insisted.

  “Let me handle this guy looking for you first.” Magnus could see the guard storming toward the RV.

  He stepped out of the shadows, into the road to meet the guard half way. “Trouble, mister?” he asked calmly. He loomed a head above the rotund guard. Sometimes, his size worked for him. “I heard shouting.”

  “You with that thing?” The guard nodded at the RV.

  “I’m waiting for my partner to return with a tire. What’s the problem?” he asked again.

  “Mind if I take a look inside?”

  “I most certainly do. Maybe I should rephrase the question—who the hell are you?” Magnus crossed his arms and blocked the guard’s view of the van.

  “I’m from the school down the road. We’ve got a runaway. You could be some kind of sick sex maniac.” The guard spoke into his radio.

  “What kind of kidnapper would sit out here with a flat tire?” Magnus gestured at the vehicle and pulled out his cell phone. “If a kid is missing, the sensible thing to do is call the cops, isn’t it?”

  The guard hastily signaled for him to put the phone away. “No point in getting ahead of ourselves. If I can just get the kid, there’s no problem.”

  Magnus punched in 911 anyway. He had confidence in Conan’s people. Besides detectives, the team contained teachers, social workers, and law enforcement officers who cared what happened to missing children. Conan would have had them monitoring the situation out here ever since Vera had told them about the school.

  “Just let me look around,” the guard pleaded. “She’s just a brat that needs to be in bed. We don’t need cops for that.”

  “Kids usually don’t run away for no reason.” He couldn’t chase this guy off through intimidation. Time for Plan B . . . “If she’s around here . . . Hey, kid,” Magnus called over his shoulder. “If you’re there, do you want to go with this guy?”

  “No!” came a firm reply. “They’ll lock me up and give me bread and water like they did Robby. I want my mama.”

  Magnus shrugged. “Looks like we got ourselves a runaway after all.”

  He spoke into the phone to the dispatcher answering. “We have a bit of a problem, ma’am,” he said in his best aw shucks voice. He gave a description of their location and kept blocking the guard from going around him. He was faster on his feet than the round guy. “We’ve got a kid saying she and others have been abused, and a guy who just threated to whip her. I’m not letting him have her until some official tells me it’s okay.”

  The security guard screamed urgent orders into his radio.

  Magnus leaned his shoulder against the RV’s door, opening it just enough so Nadine could overhear. “What’s your mama’s name, kid?” he asked. “Can I call her?”

  “No,” the little voice said forlornly. “She’s not there. She’s never there. I’ve tried and tried to call.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s not there. We’ll work it out. The sheriff is a real nice man. He’ll help us, too. You want to come out here where we can see you?” Magnus held his breath and thought he heard Nadine bite back hers.

  The kid didn’t reply.

  Behind him, Nadine hissed. “Say we have Oreos.”

  “Look, I’ll get some Oreos from inside, and you can just sit here on the step behind me until the sheriff comes, okay?” he said, willing to try whatever Nadine suggested.

  The situation made him antsy. He couldn’t fight off an army of security if they arrived. He couldn’t even escape on a flat tire. He hadn’t quite thought that part through. He’d counted on Conan’s team flying to the rescue, but they were a little slow tonight and the situation was escalating faster than anticipated.

  Planning ahead was not his strong point.

  A motorcycle roared down the road just as the white figure passed in front of the RV, drawn by the offer of cookies. The headlight caught a stocky child, with thin straight mouse-brown hair, wearing an ankle-length nightgown. She froze in the glare, then darted toward Magnus.

  He stepped into the road, blocking the kid from the guard making a grab for her. A little music, and they could cha-cha. “Your dance moves need work,” Magnus said, causing the guard to look at him if he was crazed. Obviously, he was. A sane man wouldn’t be out here with a broken down RV protecting two mental cases from a seriously paranoid berserko.

  The motorcycle halted in the road. The driver took off her helmet and swung a head full of blond hair free. “Problem, boys?”

  “Nothing to do with you,” the guard growled. “Move along.”

  A Jeep rumbled up the drive from the school, and the guard relaxed a fraction. Reinforcements had arrived.

  The child hid behind Magnus. He noted that a package of Oreos had materialized on the step of the RV. The child settled into the safe enclosure of the steps and munched contentedly.

  On the off chance that the motorcycle rider was one of Conan’s plants, Magnus shrugged when she glanced his way. “He’s hunting a runaway. The runaway is crying abuse. I’ve called the cops. If that Jeep over there starts shooting, you might want to hightail it out of here and warn someone.”

  “Is that the runaway behind you?” she asked, ignoring his warning. “Do you have a name, hon?”

  Magnus heard Nadine whisper urgently when the girl hesitated. The kid glanced uncertainly up at him, then reassured, she turned to the woman and nodded.

  “My name is Mikala. I want my mama.”

  That seemed to be all the inspiration the motorcyclist needed. She rolled the heavy bike between the van and the Jeep screeching to a halt in the middle of the road. “Well, then, I guess I’ll just sit here and make sure Mikala is safe until the sheriff arrives. We girls have to stick together. Hi, I’m Alista Mayhew, a special ed teacher at the local middle school.” She stuck her hand out to Magnus.

  “Good to meet you, Alista.” He shook her hand and heard Nadine snort. He didn’t try to interpret the snort but refrained from getting too friendly with the pretty blonde. “Thanks for standing in. I figure my wife would raise a ruckus if I didn’t step in to help a kid. I know my nephews can fib at the drop of a hat, but I just can’t take that chance, right?”

  Oz ought to hire him as one of his actors. Life had been easier when all he’d had to do was shoot the bad guys.

  A taller, more menacing guard stepped from the Jeep. This one wore a holster. “She’s one of our students. Her parents left her in our care. Step aside, and we’ll take her back to the school where she belongs.”

  “Not until she talks to her parents and the sheriff says it’s okay,” Magnus said, continuing to block the door where the kid sat. “If the sheriff is satisfied, then I’ll just go back to my nap. Do you know your phone number, Mikala?”

  The kid looked to be about ten. She nodded and gave him a number. Magnus plugged it in, but the bars on his phone had suspiciously dropped out. “Well, now, looks like we suddenly have a little reception problem. Maybe the sheriff’s line will work. Looks like him coming now.”

  Red and blue lights flashed down the road.

  Two more guards from the Jeep got out and approached. Magnus knew he was outnumbered. So did the guards.

  “You don’t need to get involved,” the guy with the holster said with what was supposed to be reassurance. “The sheriff knows the school houses troublemakers. Just go back to your nap and we’ll handle it.”

  “Nope, that’s not the way I look at it.” Magnus tried to look non-threatening, but he maintai
ned a stance directly in front of the child. He was eager for action, except bullets and children didn’t mix.

  As expected, two of the guards attempted to grab him while the third reached for Mikala. Fully prepared and happy to mix it up a little, Magnus whacked his elbow into the nose of the guy on his right, swung his hammer into the ribs of the one on his left, and booted the crotch of the one reaching for Mikala.

  The sheriff’s car pulled up with lights flashing just as the victim of the crotch blow covered his nuts and crumpled.

  “Got a little trouble, boys?” the uniformed officer asked, stepping from the car and taking in the situation.

  “Want an Oreo?” Mikala whispered behind him.

  A grin tugged the corner of Magnus’s mouth. That sounded like something Nadine would say. “You putting ideas in her head?” he murmured while the sheriff dusted off the guards.

  “No, she’s just generous,” Nadine whispered back. “Can I come out now?”

  “No,” he said firmly, before hauling up the guy with the bloody nose. “They attacked me,” he asserted loudly. “Miss Mayhew can testify to that. Mikala, you can come out now. The sheriff is one of the good guys.” He hoped.

  A woman stepped from the passenger side of the sheriff’s car carrying a clipboard and looking officious. The sheriff gestured in her direction. “This is Ellen Ramirez. She’s with social services.”

  Magnus shook her hand. Alista and Ellen seemed to know each other and exchanged greetings.

  Mikala peered tentatively around his legs. “Can I call my mama to take me home?”

  “We can try, Mikala,” the social worker said. “Can you tell us your name and where you live?”

  The child happily spelled out her street address, her name, her parents’ names, and gave them her phone number. Magnus leaned against the RV and kept an eye on the surly guards. Nursing their injuries, they were angrily talking into their radios— blocked cell reception must be frequent out here.

  The social worker couldn’t make her phone work. The officer used his radio. As they conferred, the RV’s driver pulled up with a tow truck and a tire. Conan must have alerted them when the 911 went out.

  An RV wasn’t exactly the kind of vehicle Magnus had in mind for chasing down the general, but if that was all he had . . . He hoped Adams had been alerted and was monitoring this situation involving one of the school’s most valuable assets.

  “Want to sit here?” Mikala asked from her balcony seat. “I can make room.”

  “Nah, I like standing,” Magnus assured her, standing to one side now that the law had arrived. “I’ll take one of those cookies now, if you don’t mind.”

  She solemnly handed him a cookie, and they munched while they watched the guards yelling, officials consulting, and the tow truck lifting the backside of the RV. The special ed teacher wandered over and took a cookie too.

  “If they can’t reach your parents, Mikala, will you be okay going with Mrs. Ramirez? I know her. She’s real nice. She’ll take you to a home to spend the night, until they reach your parents.”

  Magnus hid his grimace. The foster system didn’t seem like the best choice for a sensitive, possibly abused child. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Nadine thought about that. He could practically feel her tension.

  “I want to stay with the lady,” the child said, as if that was a given.

  Damn. Magnus wasn’t a creative genius like Oz. He needed a story and didn’t have one.

  “The lady?” Alista asked in puzzlement.

  “Yes, the lady who talks with me in my head and can see me when I’m not there.”

  Magnus choked on a cookie crumb and caused enough disturbance to cause the girl and Alista both to turn to him. Not that it was likely they could have performed a Heimlich on him if needed.

  The officer and the social worker strolled past the angry guards in the direction of the RV, further distracting from Mikala’s demands.

  Magnus quit choking and waited to hear what came next. The rotund guard rushed up to raise another protest. The officer lifted a hand to hush him.

  “The parents have requested that Mikala be taken to friends over in El Padre,” the sheriff’s deputy announced.

  “What about the little kids?” Mikala demanded before anyone else could react. “They’re crying. The lady said she would help them.”

  Magnus decided it was easier to nail a thug with a hammer than sort through all the talk, but he recognized El Padre. Oz and Pippa lived in El Padre. Conan and Dorrie were staying there before the wedding.

  He figured there was no chance in hell that Mikala actually came from El Padre, where Pippa knew everyone. Somehow, Conan had interfered with phone communication to get the kid sent to them.

  But what the devil did he do about “the lady” and the school? Damn Nadine and her sweeping promises.

  “We talked to the boss,” the guard shouted, interrupting. “He says we can’t let a kid go to strangers. The school is responsible for her and we can get sued.”

  The social worker, sheriff, and special ed teacher ignored the guard and focused on the kid.

  “Why are the little kids crying, Mikala?” the social worker asked. “Are they hurt?”

  “Sometimes,” she said defensively. “They want their mamas, too.”

  That wasn’t a line that was going to take her far. Magnus prodded the process. “Mikala told me earlier that they went hungry, and I heard the guard threatening to beat her. That’s the reason I insisted on calling the police. You might want to check on the other kids.” He gave the Jeep of armed guards a narrow-eyed look that the sheriff picked up on pretty fast.

  Magnus figured everyone in town was dying to get inside that school. He’d just given them reason to do so. If that didn’t bring the general down on his head, the guy must be dead.

  Twenty-six

  Nadine held her breath, bit her tongue, sat on her hands, did everything she could think of while the fate of a bunch of special children hung in the balance—and she could do nothing.

  Now she understood why Magnus preferred action to waiting. She was about to come unplugged. Or explode.

  She dearly wanted to hug Mikala, go with her in the sheriff’s car, reassure her that all was well . . . But the general stood in her way. She got that now, too.

  If she wanted to help these kids instead of using them for experiments, she had to stop Jo-jo. And the only way to stop Jo-jo was to get him arrested.

  She might as well construct a nuclear bomb. She couldn’t. But Magnus could. So she had to wait and listen until he told her otherwise.

  She pinched her nose as the guards raised holy hell and the sheriff called in reinforcements. This was turning into a long night.

  She heard a heavy engine that reminded her of the souped-up Camaro. Escape had arrived?

  I know the ladies in El Padre, she told the child in her head.

  In all her practice with Vera and others, she’d never really been able to send verbal thoughts. Francesca had been as close as she’d come to mind-speaking, and those had been numbers and images. But Mikala’s child-like mind was wonderfully receptive when she left it open, which she was doing now.

  Nadine couldn’t be certain the child understood the words or how they sounded in her head, but she had no images to project except the one of Pippa and Dorrie. She conjured an image of Mad Max’s Camaro and sent that, along with the message, We’ll follow you.

  She could sense the child’s sulk, but the argument was too distracting for more.

  “You can’t take the kid anywhere until our lawyers get here!” one of the guards shouted.

  “Then let us in the school to prove her accusations aren’t true,” the social worker countered.

  Nadine pounded her head with her fist and wanted to strangle everyone.

  She heard more cars stopping. She wished she could see outside. New lights flashed through the windows, so she assumed another police car had arrived.

  Mikala sent her
an image of the Camaro—not the same one that Nadine had sent her but a more glamorous one, with black paint and red flames down the side. So, that really had been a muscle car she’d heard.

  She could practically hear Mikala’s question. But it was Magnus who answered, just outside the door so she could hear.

  “Hey, bro, you’re a little late. The tire’s almost fixed.” Mad Max spoke in a lazy baritone, as if all hell wasn’t in the process of breaking loose.

  “Yeah, well, I figured I’d wait to see if the good sheriff would haul your ass to jail before I bothered wasting my time coming out here. Hey, Alista, Ellen. How’s it going?” Conan. Conan had arrived in the flashy Camaro.

  Nadine hadn’t realized she was feeling Max’s tension until he relaxed. It was like a balloon deflating. Which probably meant that was his car out there and he had a plan and it probably didn’t include her.

  Crap on that. She’d had enough uselessness for a lifetime.

  Nadine eyed the big window she’d decided was an emergency exit. No one would notice if the van bounced up and down with all the commotion happening out there. She eased from the floor and studied the window. It popped out just like a bus exit. Easy.

  Go with the good people, she tried to tell Mikala in her head. I have to leave now, but I’ll find you tomorrow. The little ones will be fine now. You did good.

  She thought Mikala’s sulk lessened a little.

  She carefully placed the exit window on the bed and studied the scattered grove of trees following the creek bed. Vera had said there was a grave by the creek bed, but that was probably on the other side of the road, by the school. She wasn’t stupid enough to trespass on the general’s territory. Even the sheriff would require a search warrant for that.

  It was dark, but headlights and police flashers crisscrossed the road and the land. If anyone lurked out there, she couldn’t see them. She was an experienced window climber now. She knew to throw her legs out first.

  ***

  “The general will be ordering all cars followed,” Magnus told Conan. They eased further from the doorway so Nadine couldn’t hear them.