by DiAnn Mills
“I want to make cookies,” Cloud said. “And cake and pie.”
Their childish exchange nearly distracted her from the growing threat, but she didn’t want to be naive. “We’re going to drive through McDonald’s for lunch, go home, and talk about something very important.”
All three groaned.
“We must be in serious trouble,” Prime said.
How could she let them know the possible danger without frightening them—or boring them to tears? “No one is in trouble. I’m taking the rest of the day off. We’re going to play a game about stranger danger, and each one of you will get to be it.”
“Prizes?” Mac said.
“Of course.”
“Oh, I forgot about the man.” Cloud touched her lips. “But he had a girl voice.”
Savannah shivered, fear racing through her heart. “What man, sweetheart?”
“He was pulling weeds near the playground fence. He knew my name and he asked what time you picked us up.”
“You’re sure the person was a man?”
“Yes, ma’am. He wore boy clothes and a ball cap.”
“Was there anything special about the cap?”
“I don’t think so.”
Her heart thudded . . . ached. “What did you tell him?”
“I said when you got done at work. I asked him if he was a stranger. Mommy and Daddy told us about them.”
“Did the man answer?”
She nodded, her blonde curls dancing. “He said he was a friend of my daddy’s.”
Chapter 9
Thursday night after the children were threatened and a man had approached Cloud, Savannah answered the door to Paul and his ex-partner, James Creary. She expected a large man with laugh crinkles, but instead she saw the tall, athletic type who did not look his age.
After introductions, Savannah asked if James was ready to meet the children.
“You bet. Do you mind if I have them call me Uncle Jim?”
“Perfect.” She slid Paul a smile. What a gem of a friend. Left up to her, she’d still be in a panic mode . . . so much for the FBI special agent training.
The kids were in the kitchen creating masterpieces with sunflower play dough, a recipe she’d found online. Mac ate as much as he created.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “This is Uncle Jim, and he’ll be going with you to day care every day.”
Prime scrunched up her face. “Like a babysitter, Savvy?”
“Not exactly.” Savannah didn’t want to use the word bodyguard. “You’re so special to me that I want to make sure you’re always safe.”
“I don’t understand.” The child was far too serious for her age.
James walked to the table and complimented the three on their creations. “I’m going to make sure no strangers bother you.”
Cloud nodded. “We played a stranger-danger game with Savvy this afternoon. You’ll help us figure out who’s good and bad?”
“I’m Spider-Man,” Mac said. “I’ll help.”
“Great.” James pulled up a chair to the table. “Can I make something?”
Savannah and Paul left them alone and walked outside onto the patio. “Thank you so much. He is just what I needed.” She flipped on the overhead fan.
“Other than me?” He grinned.
“Can’t replace you.” She meant it, but she hoped he took her words light. “Do you have a minute to discuss the case?”
“I think we should. Our firebug is trailing you. Someone who is clever and we don’t suspect.”
“I admit when I’m with the kids, I’m not as aware of what’s going on. But he was watching us when I was burned.”
Paul nodded. “Lots of theories here, but our theory of his targeting older churches no longer applies. We can assume he knows where you live and is watching the house.”
“Should I hire James 24-7?”
“Or me.”
“That could ruin our reputations.”
“At our age?” He grinned. “I’d keep watch outside.”
“When will you sleep?”
“We have a case to solve. I’ll talk to James about alternating nights with me.”
“I doubt I’ll get much sleep until this is over either. I’m in—”
“You have those kids to take care of. James and I can handle it.”
Paul was more of a friend than she’d ever given him credit for. She wanted to hug him, but . . . “Cloud looked at a pic of Daryl Jacobs and Jesse Mendoza. Nothing about either of them looked familiar.”
“She said the person had a female voice. What about the build?”
“To Cloud, every adult is tall. All we have are flimsy leads. In the morning I’m going to spread out every detail of this case and figure out a way to solve it.”
“The phone used to call the day care was a burner.”
“Another dead end. I’m not surprised.”
“I learned more about Pastor Golden, perhaps why he was in such a foul mood and wanted to protect his son-in-law. His only son was killed in Afghanistan four months ago.”
“Grief can do strange things to you.” She had her own sorrow. “From what we’ve learned, Mendoza is a good guy. Paul, our firebug has to be connected to the churches, a common link.”
“After reviewing the fires again, I don’t see a pattern, and each one is planned. Even the shoe size and limp may be there to trip us up.”
“Has the mysterious woman who phoned in the last fire been found?”
“No. She was mentioned in the press conference earlier. Let’s hope she calls in and has information to give us.”
“I hate the digging and waiting,” she said. “Especially when the FBI looks inept.”
“And our kids are threatened.”
She glanced at the setting sun in bright orange and yellow. God, what are You doing?
* * *
Saturday morning, Savannah didn’t feel like taking the kids outside, but neither could she keep them cooped up as though being punished. A few days ago, she’d planned for today to be a memory maker. She knew how to protect her grandchildren, and she wasn’t going to let a bully arsonist stop her.
“We’re going to do something different and fun,” she said, while flipping chocolate chip pancakes.
“What?” Prime set the syrup on the table, wearing Savannah’s FBI T-shirt that hung below her knees.
“Superhero day.”
“What does that mean?”
Mac, dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas, and Cloud in her Cinderella nightgown climbed into their chairs.
“After breakfast cleanup, we’re going to be superheroes. I have costumes for all of us, even Byte.”
“It’s not even Halloween.” Prime uncharacteristically hugged her. “You’re the best Savvy in the world.”
Maybe she wanted to be a better grandmother than a mother.
Savannah snapped pictures of the kids stepping into character. Prime danced in a yellow-and-blue Wolverine suit with black boots and a pointed-ear mask. Cloud was the Incredible Hulk, wearing green gloves and a terrifying mask. Mac adored his Spider-Man costume, with padded muscles and red gloves, boots, and mask. Byte wore a Batman cape and hat.
“You look good,” Mac said to Savannah. “Next to Spider-Man, I like Flash.”
She wasn’t so sure how she looked in a red suit and yellow belt and boots, but at least the mask hid her face. “Are you ready to save the world?” She opened the back door and gestured them outside.
They saved good guys.
Stopped the bad guys.
The games continued for hours, and not once did she think about a firebug.
The gate in the backyard opened, and Paul stood with his hands anchored on his hips. Captain America had joined the crew.
“Let’s go to Chuck E. Cheese’s,” Paul said.
The kids were all over that suggestion.
“Are you sure?” Savannah said. “What if someone we know s
ees us?”
“I thought you were fearless.”
Everyone boarded Paul’s SUV, and the superheroes headed for more fun and food. Inside, Savannah bought tokens for the games while Paul ordered pizza and drinks. He did look cute as Captain America, all red, white, and blue.
She handed each of the kids a few tokens. “Go ahead and play until the pizza is ready. Remember the stranger rules. Once I get the drinks, I’ll join you.”
“So we have to stick together until you find us?” Prime said.
Savannah nodded. “Superheroes always stick together.”
The three headed for the games.
Paul chuckled. “You sure are fetching as Flash.”
“Fetching?”
“How about hot?”
“Fetching will do.”
They found a table and set the drinks and a mountain of napkins on a table.
“I’ll handle Spidey, and you can have the girls,” Paul said.
She saluted him, and she didn’t care that everyone was looking and laughing at their costumes. She was enjoying her children . . . yes, her children.
Prime and Mac raced to her and Paul. “Savvy, Cloud’s gone.” Prime’s frantic voice rose above the noise.
“Are you sure?” Savannah’s stomach churned. It hadn’t been ten minutes. “Maybe she went to the restroom.”
“A girl was talking to her.”
“Look around, and I’ll head outside.” Paul disappeared through the crowd.
Savannah grabbed each child’s hand while scanning the area. Nothing. A worker checked the restroom while another searched the skee ball area.
Savannah hurried outside. Paul was racing after a car pulling out of the parking lot. The rear license plate had been covered.
Paul reached the passenger’s side and pulled Cloud from the front seat and clear of the car.
The small sedan sped away.
Chapter 10
Monday morning, Savannah arrived at work early after leaving the children in James’s protective care and following them to the church’s day care. The scare on Saturday had her determined to find who was torching churches and terrifying her family.
Cloud told her the person who’d approached her at the day care and at Chuck E. Cheese’s had the same voice, but at Chuck E. Cheese’s she was dressed as a girl. An FBI artist helped form a composite picture, but the little girl had been too shaken to offer much help. Paul had seen the driver briefly when he yanked open the car door for Cloud. His recollection was vague because she wore a cap pulled low over her eyes, but he saw her hands on the wheel and thought she was black. Nothing in the FBI database matched.
A press release would distribute the composite this afternoon.
Savannah walked to the break room for a candy bar and a Dr Pepper. She needed sugar and caffeine to brainstorm.
“Hey, if it’s not one of the fabulous five,” an agent at the vending machine said. “I saved the newspaper clipping. Thought you might want it.” He handed her the Houston Chronicle article and photo. “The FBI now has a new image.”
“Very funny,” Savannah said. “We might hit the road.”
“Seriously, glad your granddaughter is okay. If it had been my daughter, I’d have killed someone who tried to take her.”
“I was ready.” She walked back to her cubicle, where Paul was leaning against the doorway. From the plowed lines on his forehead, he’d been thinking.
Paul rubbed his eyes. He’d spent most of the night in his car watching her home. How would she ever make this up to him?
“Do you have a new spin?” she said.
“Maybe. We have a shoe size, a limp, and an infatuation for rhymes. Saturday’s driver was wearing dog tags and a cross. When I grabbed Cloud, I saw a church bulletin on the front seat of the car. Been racking my brain to figure out the logo.”
His tone alarmed her. “A kidnapper had a church bulletin? What did it look like?”
“I’ll draw it. I’ve seen it somewhere.”
She handed him a piece of paper, and he sketched a steeple with a three-sided stone tower. “It was in color against a blue sky. I could kick myself for not looking harder.”
Savannah’s pulse sped. “Like the one at Amazing Grace Church?”
“I want to talk to Dr. Phillips.”
“I thought we’d marked his church off the list of suspects, but . . .” She quickly googled Amazing Grace Church for the logo.
“That’s it.” Paul pointed to the screen. “His church is the only one not burned to the ground, and we don’t know why. I recall a pictorial directory on Dr. Phillips’s desk.”
“Let’s go.” She grabbed her phone and purse.
Dr. Phillips greeted them in his office. Pastor Golden stood beside him, frowning the moment they entered.
Savannah explained the threat made on her grandchildren and the attempt to abduct Cloud on Saturday. “My grandchildren just lost their parents, and they are my life.”
“I don’t understand how I can help you,” Dr. Phillips said. “You’re trying to end a crime spree and the arsonist is doing his best to stop you.”
“We think there may be a connection to your area,” Savannah said. “Agent Winston can better explain the findings.”
“When I pulled Agent Barrett’s granddaughter from the car, I got a glimpse of the young woman, a teen. She’s not in our database. She wore a cross necklace and dog tags. The other odd thing is a bulletin from your church was on the front seat.”
Pastor Golden’s anger bolted through his words. “Are you now blaming one of our young women for a kidnapping attempt?”
“Dr. Phillips, Pastor,” Paul said. “We need to look at your pictorial directory to see if the young woman is a member of your congregation. I gave a composite earlier which will be released to the public this afternoon, but it’s not clear.”
“Do you have a subpoena?” Pastor Golden clenched his fists.
“Excuse me.” Dr. Phillips waved his colleague down. “The FBI can and will look at our church directory.” He pulled a booklet from his desk and handed it to Paul. “This is four years old. Pastor Golden and I will leave you two alone in the office to go through it. Will thirty minutes be enough?”
Paul agreed and the two men left.
Savannah pulled her chair close to his. “I think the good pastor was being taken to the woodshed.”
Paul blew out his exasperation. “I want an investigation into his background. Something about him doesn’t ring like a man of God.”
“If her photo is here, we can end this today. Otherwise, the press release later on should bring us a name.”
For the next several minutes he turned pages. Savannah studied the photos too, but no one looked familiar. When Dr. Phillips and Pastor Golden returned, Paul had nothing to report. “Thank you for your time,” he said to the men. “I found nothing.”
“Before you leave, I’d like Pastor Golden to explain his . . . his attitude. He’s a good man, came to us three and a half years ago.”
That’s why he wasn’t in the directory.
The man glowered. “Only because Dr. Phillips has requested this.” He swallowed and eased into a chair. “My son was killed in Afghanistan four months and twenty-seven days ago. Lee Jr. was a godly man, seminary trained but not for a specific denomination. When he couldn’t find a position here in Houston, he believed God was leading him to join the Army as a chaplain. We thought he’d be safe.”
Now Pastor Golden’s rudeness made sense, horrible sense. “I understand how it feels to lose your only son. I recently lost mine,” Savannah said. “I’m thankful I have his children.”
“I have two daughters.” He moistened his lips. “It’s still hard. My wife . . . she may never get over it. He was so badly burned that we never saw his body. The grieving has made all of us bitter.”
“I appreciate your willingness to share this.” Savannah fought for control. “I haven’t allowed myself to feel all that losing my son means, but I will. C
loud’s attempted abduction made me angrier than I can ever remember.”
Pastor Golden’s face smoothed. “Agent Barrett, I want the arsonist stopped too, and certainly any person who would stalk a child.”
* * *
That evening Savannah shoved a dirty diaper into a plastic bag and stomped outside to the garbage can, gagging on the smell. The day had been hard—listening to Pastor Golden’s story and then forcing herself to face the truth about her own emotions. At least she’d been able to see Travis and tell him good-bye. Not so with Pastor Golden’s son. He’d been burned beyond recognition.
Tragic as it was, she hadn’t eliminated a connection with him and the case. The arsonist began shortly after Golden’s son died. She and Paul planned to find out at which churches he’d applied for a position.
Mac met her at the back door wearing his Spider-Man cape. He yanked out his pacifier. “Hi, Savvy. Do you wanna play?
“Mac, I need to fix some supper first.” She bent to his level. “You’ve got to start using the potty like a big-boy. You’ll be four in two months.”
“I like my diapers.”
“But I don’t.”
“Spidey says it’s okay.”
But Spidey didn’t change him. She’d tried everything from candy to an occasional threat, tactics which weren’t recommended in any child-rearing books.
“If you’ll give up your diapers and your pacifier, I’ll buy you a four-wheeler.”
Bribes had worked for his dad.
Mac’s dark eyes widened. “A jeep with a horn and a radio?”
“Yes. Any kind you want.”
“All mine?”
“Yes.” She crossed her fingers with a prayer for help.
“And I could ride in the backyard and on the sidewalk?”
“Yes. They run on batteries, but we could get more than one.”
He handed her his pacifier and walked inside the house.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my Spider-Man underwear. We’re going to the store.”
Chapter 11
Tuesday morning, Savannah contacted the churches that had been burned. All four had interviewed Pastor Golden’s son for a youth minister position, but there’d been no openings at the time. He had an excellent résumé, and all spoke of the godly professionalism displayed during the interview. Two of the churches recalled his death in Afghanistan.
