by Debra Webb
She stormed up to the driver’s side of Terry’s car. “I want my boy, you son of—”
Laney’s knees buckled. Joel caught her before she hit the ground.
There was a hole in Terry’s chest… Blood had soaked his shirt and… run down onto the seat between his legs. Where was Buddy? She couldn’t see him…not in the front seat or the back.
A surge of adrenaline hit Laney. She jerked from Joel’s hold and reached for the door. “I have to find Buddy!”
Joel grabbed her back. “Don’t touch anything, Laney.”
“I have to find my baby.” How had this happened? Who had taken her baby if he wasn’t with his father? Was he cowering in the back floorboard? “Buddy! It’s mommy! Where are you, baby?”
Joel gave her a gentle shake. “Let me look, okay? This is a crime scene now and we have to be careful. If whoever did this took Buddy, we can’t risk contaminating evidence.”
Blackness threatened. Laney barely hung on. Terry was dead. Buddy was gone. Whoever had taken Buddy was willing to kill… .
Joel braced her against the wall away from Terry’s car. Her body felt cold and hot at once. She couldn’t draw a deep enough breath. Where was her baby? What had Terry done? Who had done this to him? Was there even enough room in the rear floorboard for Buddy to hide? Why wouldn’t he have cried out to her when he heard her voice?
Because he wasn’t here… . Her heart lurched.
Joel moved around to the other side of the car and opened the passenger side door. Laney dared to move away from the wall. Her legs felt rubbery but she managed to stay vertical.
Joel fumbled in the glove box then withdrew from the passenger side as the trunk popped open.
Laney’s heart hit the concrete. She hadn’t thought of that. Her knees went weak again. No. Please don’t let him be in there… .
After a quick survey of the truck’s interior, Joel closed the lid and shook his head.
A crazy mixture of relief and renewed fear flooded her veins. What did this mean? Who would take her little boy?
A drug dealer? A person who wanted to sell her baby to human traffickers or some sick pedophile?
Her heart rose and started to thunder. How would they ever be able to find Buddy now?
Joel’s words drifted to her through the haze of panic. He was on the phone. He stated the address and then said that he wanted to report a homicide. He’d called the police.
Dear God. Why would anyone do this? What kind of people had Terry gotten himself involved with?
Images filled her head. Stick figures all lined up in a row…dozens and dozens of them on that motel wall.
She’d watched Buddy through his bedroom window.
The grandma lady…the murderer.
Port Arthur Police Station, 8:30 a.m.
JOEL HAD BEEN INTERROGATED BEFORE. The Port Arthur detective along with the two from Beaumont had questioned him repeatedly about the incident in the High Noon parking lot when Kingston and Joel had exchanged heated words.
Anger came and went as Joel wrestled with his emotions. These guys had a job to do and Joel understood that. But there was a child missing and these guys should be helping look for him, not rehashing irrelevant information.
They’d run Joel’s prints just to be sure he was who he said he was. Simon Ruhl had called and offered to come to the station but Joel knew he needed to be on the search for Lucas. The sooner Lucas was found, the sooner Simon and the others could help with this situation.
God almighty, the situation had gone to hell fast.
He’d come here to protect Laney and Buddy and he’d failed.
A female detective was questioning Laney. He wished she didn’t have to go through this. Until they released them there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot Joel could do.
“Well, all right,” the detective from Beaumont in charge of Buddy’s case finally announced. “We’re going to request support from the FBI. For now, I believe it would be in the best interest of all if you took Ms. Seagers home. We’re doing everything that can be done at this time.”
Joel stood. “I can appreciate that, but you need to appreciate what she’s going through. Sitting around waiting isn’t the answer for her peace of mind.”
The detective nodded. “We do understand. We’ll contact you if we learn anything new.”
Joel turned for the door but the detective spoke again. “And for the love of Mike, call us if you get a lead and let us follow up. There’s a far less likelihood of the evidence being contaminated.”
Joel tossed back the man’s own words. “We understand.”
Joel walked out. He wasn’t making any promises he wouldn’t keep. He followed the corridor back to the lobby area. Laney sat in a chair looking devastated and lost. She didn’t even look up as he approached.
He sat down beside her. She blinked but didn’t look at him.
From the moment he confirmed that Kingston was dead, Joel knew with complete certainty that his murder and Buddy’s disappearance had nothing to do with drugs or human trafficking or some sick pedophile.
Clare Barker and Weeden had been watching. Kingston’s desperate move had provided an opportunity. Clare had been taken with Buddy—that was obvious. She wanted him. Maybe to reel in Laney.
All Joel had to do was find those two and he would find Buddy. He felt certain of that. For now the boy was likely safe. If the goal was to lure in Laney, they would need Buddy alive.
With the Amber Alert, Lucas missing and Terry’s murder, Clare Barker was now wanted for questioning by the police as well as the Colby Agency. She couldn’t afford to be out in the open. She and Weeden would need to find someplace to lay low where no one would look for them. Someplace one or both considered safe and way off the radar.
“If you were Clare Barker,” Joel said quietly, “where would you go to hide with the grandson you had been dying to spend time with?”
Laney looked over at him. “You think she took him?”
Her voice wobbled. Joel nodded.
“She must’ve taken him. We have to find her, Joel. We have to. I read those articles that were in the photo album,” she said. “Their farm was off the beaten path. No one lives there.”
Joel managed a weak smile. That was his thinking, too.
Some of the victims’ families had bought the place in a tax auction years ago. They’d boarded it up and swore that no one would ever live there again.
“No one would look there,” Joel offered. “It’s too obvious.” He tugged at a strand of her hair. “You know, like in the movies, when you just know the bad guy can’t be a certain cliché character because it would be too much of a no-brainer.”
Her lips trembled into a faint smile of her own and she nodded.
“I say we take off and head there right now. We could be in Granger by one, maybe sooner since we’ve missed most of the morning commuters.”
“There’s nothing else we can do here.” Anticipation tinged her voice.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Except wait.”
Laney pushed to her feet. “I don’t want to wait.”
Joel stood. He took her hand in his. “We will find him.” She turned to him, her usually glittering brown eyes clouded with fear and misery. “That’s a promise,” he guaranteed.
As they exited the police station Joel prayed he would be able to keep that promise.
Chapter Eighteen
Granger, 1:15 p.m.
Clare had rocked the boy to sleep. It had taken a while. He’d slept most of the way here but when he’d awakened he had cried for his mother.
She had used this old rocker to sway her girls to sleep when they were little. She was glad it was still here. Much of the old furniture was still here. The house had fallen into grave disrepair, but that could all be fixed in time. She and her family could make something of the place. Turn it back into a real home.
“Sweet boy.” She gently brushed the hair out of his face. He was an angel. Beautiful and perfect in ever
y way. Just like his mother was. She had been almost this age when Clare last held her. She had been crying for her bear just as Buddy had cried for his.
Clare wasn’t sure how Tony had managed to get the boy away from that rotten father of his but she was glad he had. She hadn’t asked any questions and, as usual, her son had offered no explanations. To Clare’s way of thinking, Tony was a hero for rescuing Buddy. No man like that drunkard Terry Kingston deserved to have this precious angel.
Now Lisa would want to come to Clare. Tony’s plan was a good one. She had worried about how she would convince her daughters to come to her. Especially with the Colby Agency working against her.
The floor creaked and Clare looked up. Tony hovered in the doorway. He looked away when her gaze met his.
“He’s precious, isn’t he?”
Tony nodded.
She had never gotten to hold him this way. Clare wondered if Janet or the Weedens, the people who had ultimately adopted Tony, had ever once been kind to him. The thought of what they may have done to him besides what was obvious made her sick to her stomach. Clare hadn’t known the Weedens but Janet had. Since her release, Clare had learned that the Weedens had been a bad bunch. They were all gone now. The old man and woman had died years ago. Not soon enough for Clare’s liking. They had been immensely cruel to Tony if half of what she had learned about them was true. No matter what Tony said about the accident that had caused the loss of his arm, Clare feared the injury had been the result of something far more sinister. She knew her sister too well. Janet had benefited financially from the adoptions of Clare’s girls and she suspected the loathsome witch had done the same when she turned Tony over to the Weedens.
“Lunch is ready,” Tony announced. “Ham and cheese sandwiches with all the fixings.”
Clare caressed the child’s soft cheek. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I cut the tomatoes fresh,” he snapped. “If you wait, the bread will be soggy.”
Clare looked up at him and wondered if watching her with Buddy made him envious. She wished she could change that. Take away the hurt from the past.
But what was done was done and she had made many mistakes. The most she could hope for was forgiveness or perhaps not even that. If they could all just start over from here, that would be enough.
She looked around at the room that had once been her girls’ bedroom. The place was old and run-down for sure. The yard looked like a mess. The clinic that had once been a barn was falling in.
At least the dead who had been buried here had been moved. That was something. The past was behind her now and she wanted to forget those ugly years.
Tony shuffled away. The sound drew her attention to the door. She had disappointed him enough. The least she could do was eat the meal he had prepared.
Anything to make him happy. He had done so very much for her and was prepared to do more.
She placed Buddy carefully on the throw she’d spread on the floor. There was no pillow or proper covers but it would do for now. Children his age could sleep through a war.
Truth was, they were caught up in a war. The battle had scarcely begun.
Tony had told her this morning about his savings. He had plenty of money, he’d said, to fix the old place up if he could buy it back.
That would be nice.
When she had accomplished her goal the world would know the truth and perhaps her home would be returned to her. Wouldn’t it be nice if Rafe lived to hear of her good fortune? He would tear out his hair. She prayed he would suffer every minute of every hour until they shoved those needles into his loathsome veins.
Clare left the room and went in search of her dear son. She owed him so much.
She had seen the spots of blood on his shirt when he brought Buddy to her. But that was irrelevant in this war they were waging. Whatever he had done to bring her grandson to her, she needed to properly show her appreciation.
It was the least she could do with him so willing to sacrifice so much for her.
Tony waited in the kitchen. He had stocked a cooler with fresh sandwich meats and drinks. He thought of everything. Clare wasn’t sure what she would have done without him. He seemed prepared for every situation. He had flashlights and changes of clothes. Maps and money. He said that they would find new transportation soon. His idea to come here, the last place anyone would look, was genius.
He was her hero.
A good son.
Clare smiled as she picked up the sandwich he had made. “This is so much better than anything I was ever served in that awful place.”
He ducked his head in acknowledgment of her praise. Her son didn’t say much but he provided more than she deserved. He had overcome much in his life. Like her, he was a survivor.
They ate in silence for a few moments. Clare didn’t like the silence. She had endured far too much of it in prison. She’d had no one to talk to. No one who cared if she lived or died. “Did you find a place to hide the car?”
“Down the road in the turnoff that leads into the woods to an old burned-out house.”
“Where the old Martin house once stood.” She remembered when the house burned. She and Rafe had just moved here in what the weathermen had called the worst winter in Texas history. Like their old house, the Martins’ had nothing but a fireplace to keep warm. It was a terrible tragedy. The whole family was lost in the fire.
Tony shrugged. “Guess so. It’s easy to find through the woods beyond the barn.”
Barn… He meant the clinic. Where she and Rafe had done their work…when they were happy so, so long ago.
“We can get there quickly if need be,” her son noted.
He was worried that they would be found here. But with their photos all over the news now, their options were limited. In truth, taking Buddy hadn’t likely been a good idea but she would not spoil her son’s glory. His intentions had been good. And she had so desperately wanted to get to know her grandson.
More silence followed. Clare hoped Tony wasn’t regretting having helped her. He seemed to have less and less to say to her with each passing day, even if he accomplished more.
The sound of crying broke the silence. Buddy had awakened. Poor child, he was probably terrified.
“I’ll get him,” Tony grumbled.
“You finish your lunch.” Clare set her sandwich aside and started across the room. “I’ll get him.”
Tony turned sharply. “Wait.”
The feral look on his face scared her. Her fingers balled into fists to contain her fear. “What’s wrong?”
He rushed past her. She followed, her movements stiff with uncertainty. He moved to the front window in the entry hall next to the door and peeked out the grimy glass.
Her heart started to pound with the fear swooshing through her veins. “Is something wrong?”
Tony wheeled around. “Go to the car now. I’ll get the boy.”
Fear snaked around her heart. “The police?”
“Go!” he commanded. “I’ll bring the boy.”
Clare rushed out the back door and across the yard, the blood pounding in her ears. She fled deep into the woods before she dared to stop.
She gasped for air and tried to hear above the sound of her own heartbeat. How many were here? Her journey could not end this way. There was still much to do. She hadn’t found Olivia yet. She wanted to—
A scream filled the air.
Her heart stopped.
Buddy.
Chapter Nineteen
Beaumont Hospital, 1:15 p.m.
Victoria waited in the lobby, her body numb with fear. The relief she had felt at finding Lucas had been short-lived once the E.R. physicians had examined him.
His right shoulder had been dislocated and his left leg was fractured. But the worst was the head injury. A serious concussion. Once the CT scan was completed they would know the extent of the damage.
Victoria closed her eyes. For nearly twenty-four hours they had searched for him. The last six very
near the area where he had been found by a passing motorist.
The thick canopy of trees had hidden his rented sedan from view as the helicopter they’d hired had made pass after pass over the area. Lucas had suffered hours of agony because Victoria could not find him.
Clare Barker and Weeden were responsible for this. Fury unleashed inside Victoria. Lucas had told his rescuers how Weeden had forced him to take the ditch to prevent a horrendous collision that might have killed them all.
He had lain unconscious for hours. When he’d awakened he had endured the pain of scrambling into the passenger floorboard for his cell. But there had been no service. He’d had no choice but to start the slow, agonizing effort of trying to pull his damaged body up that embankment to the road.
Victoria prayed Lucas had suffered no permanent damage.
She opened her eyes and took stock of the deserted lobby. Even the reception desk had a bell one could ring if service was required. Victoria was alone. Simon and Jim had been here with her until half an hour ago. She had dismissed them. There was nothing either of them could do. They were needed in the search for Buddy Seagers. Victoria would take care of her husband.
Please let him be okay.
All those months ago they had made the decision that they would retire, and look at them now. Lucas was chasing the bad guys as if he were closer to thirty than sixty. And she was no better. Ferreting out the secrets of heinous killers.
What had she been thinking?
She would see that this never happened again. Never. She and her husband were going to make that lifestyle change they had promised to make. Jim was handling the agency in Chicago beautifully and Simon had the Houston office well on its way to fully staffed.
There was no need for her and her husband to be involved in the day-to-day operations. A nice cottage on the beach and long walks in the sand were far more suitable for the years that lay ahead of them.
Victoria would attend to that just as soon as she ensured the woman and her accomplice who had done this to Lucas were captured and paid sufficiently for their crimes. And if Rafe Barker was innocent, which she sincerely doubted, she would set the record straight on that, as well.
