by Mallory Kane
“I asked you what your name is.”
“Shellie,” she said, her voice rising in pitch. She hugged William tighter. “It’s Sh-Shellie. What’s going on? Who are you?”
Aimee gestured with the barrel of the pistol. “Sit down.”
Shellie started around the table.
“No. Sit here.” Aimee glanced at the window over the sink, where tie-back curtains hung. She needed them closed.
“Hold it,” she snapped.
Shellie froze.
“First, close the curtains.” She gestured with the gun.
Watching her warily, Shellie tucked William into the crook of one arm and reached for the curtain ties with the other.
As soon as the fabric fell into place, obscuring the window, Aimee gestured again.
“Now sit.”
Shellie obeyed. She bounced William on her lap.
Aimee’s sore heart filled to bursting with equal amounts of joy and pain. Joy because her baby was obviously safe and happy. But her arms ached to wrap around his soft, plump little body.
She shivered. The kitchen was much warmer than outside, but she could feel a chilly breeze. “Why aren’t you using that generator?”
Shellie looked from the baby to her and back again. “I had it on earlier. We’re low on fuel.”
Aimee glanced at the door to the porch. What was Matt doing? More than anything, Aimee wanted to lay her weapon down and take William away from Shellie, but she’d promised Matt she’d act like a soldier.
He’d given her an order, and he expected her to carry it out. She had to hold Shellie at gunpoint until he came in.
She quickly glanced around the kitchen, squinting in the dimness. Near the cabinets on the other side of the stove was a step stool. She lowered her head and crept across in front of the window, then nudged the stool closer to the kitchen table and sat on it. Her hands were getting tired, so she set the gun on her lap and rested one hand on the grip. The barrel was still aimed at Shellie.
Matt hadn’t told her to talk to the girl, but he hadn’t told her not to, either. “Who hired you?” she demanded, her gaze still hungrily assessing every inch of her son’s body, to make sure he was all right.
Every time she spoke, his blue eyes turned her way. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done not to look at him. If he started crying, she didn’t know if she could stop herself from picking him up.
“Hired me? I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me.” She picked up the Glock and aimed it at the girl’s head. “Who brought you up here and left you to take care of—” Aimee paused. “What’s the baby’s name?”
She didn’t want Shellie to know the baby was hers. If the woman knew that, it would give her a weapon that Aimee couldn’t counter.
Shellie licked her lips nervously and lifted William to her shoulder. She patted his back. “I don’t know his name. My boyfriend brought me up here. Listen, please don’t hurt the baby.”
Aimee uttered a short, ironic laugh. “Don’t hurt the baby? Oh, don’t worry, Shellie, I’m not going to hurt the baby. But if you don’t give me some straight answers, I am definitely going to hurt you.”
“Okay, okay.” Shellie licked her lips again. “My—my boyfriend told me he needed me to watch his—his niece’s little boy for a few days. She’s sick, and—”
“I said, the truth!”
“But that is—”
“You really believe you’re up here on the top of a mountain in a snowstorm because your boyfriend’s niece has a cold?”
William’s big bright eyes widened. He turned his head to look at her and frowned and began to whine.
Shellie’s eyes grew wide and filled with tears. She sniffed. “You don’t understand. When Roy tells you to do something, you don’t get in his face about it, you know? I mean, he’s been real good to me, but when he says do something, you just gotta do it.” She shrugged and took her hand off William’s back to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her sweater.
“Who’s Roy?”
“He’s my boyfriend. I told you.”
“Roy who?”
Shellie’s eyes narrowed, as if she were weighing the advisability of telling a stranger Roy’s full name. Then her gaze dropped to the Glock and she swallowed. “Roy Kinnard. Look, did he do something wrong? ’Cause I didn’t know nothing about it if he did. I just watch the baby.”
Aimee lowered the gun again. It sounded like Shellie was completely in the dark about Roy’s activities. But slim as it was, there was a chance that she was acting. Aimee’s instincts told her to believe Shellie was telling the truth. But she couldn’t trust her instincts. Not with her baby’s life literally in the woman’s hands.
“Oh, he’s asleep,” Shellie said softly.
Fierce longing arrowed through Aimee. She tamped it down. “Where does he sleep?” She kept her voice as hard as she could make it.
“In—in the bedroom. I pile pillows around him so he won’t fall off the bed.”
“You have children?”
Shellie laughed. “No, but I practically raised my two little brothers. I know all about babies.”
Aimee wanted to call out to Matt, but she knew there must be a reason he was keeping quiet. What if something had happened? He’d told her to give herself up if he didn’t show.
Apprehension stole her breath. She couldn’t do that. She was here, in a warm, safe house with no one but a skinny girl standing between her and her baby. Right now she was in charge. She had the advantage, and she had to keep it.
“Put him to bed.” Aimee aimed the gun at Shellie again.
Shellie stood carefully, still patting William on the back. She started toward Aimee, toward the closed door where Matt was supposed to be.
“No!” Aimee snapped. “The other way.” She stood and blocked the door.
Shellie looked surprised, but she turned and stepped through the doorway into the big front room and across to the bedroom door.
Aimee was right behind her.
Shellie shifted William and reached for an oil lamp.
“No light.” Aimee took a deep breath. “You do what I tell you to—nothing more,” she ordered the girl. “I don’t want any lights turned on. Just put Wi—the baby—to bed.”
Shellie obeyed.
It broke Aimee’s heart to watch another woman do the things she always did for William. Her heart twisted in agony to have him so close, and yet too far, in every sense of the word, for her to touch.
“There you go, darlin’,” Shellie cooed. “Sleep tight.” She leaned over and kissed William’s round pink cheek.
Aimee nearly lost it. She bit her lip—hard—to stop herself from moaning aloud. “Sit down, on the foot of the bed, and keep your hands in your lap, so I can see them.”
She didn’t want Matt to come into the kitchen and find nobody there, but she wasn’t sure how concealing the kitchen windows were. Besides, she didn’t think she could leave William alone, not even for a moment, now that she’d found him.
Aimee sat at the head of the bed, near William. She leaned back against the headboard and rested her gun hand on her lap.
“Now, how about telling me who Roy is and who he works for.”
MATT PRESSED HIS BACK against the wall next to the half-paned door, his MAC-10 in his hand. He’d been about to burst in on Aimee and the girl when the clouds had parted, allowing the moon to light the snow-covered landscape.
Aware that Kinnard was still out there, probably waiting for a chance to ambush him, he’d flattened himself against the wall, and carefully surveyed the clearing around the cabin.
He wasn’t worried about Aimee. As he’d listened to her barking orders and questioning William’s caregiver, he’d smiled and his chest had swelled with pride. She was handling the girl like a pro.
He was relieved when Aimee directed the girl to take the baby into the bedroom. He would have much more freedom to handle Kinnard knowing that Aimee and William were out of the way.
Just
as he’d decided it was safe to move across the porch to the kitchen door, he detected movement out of the corner of his eye.
He angled slightly, just enough to check the area close to the house. Nothing. Maybe he’d seen a rabbit or a deer, or even a wolf, but he didn’t think so. His instincts, honed by four years in Air Force Special Forces, told him it was a human predator.
Crouching down, he crept across the porch to the door. He was taking a chance. If Kinnard saw the lantern’s light, he’d know someone had opened the door.
But Matt would rather lure Kinnard to the kitchen than take a chance on him circling around to the front door. He wasn’t about to get himself in a position where Aimee and William were between Kinnard and him.
Matt slipped into the kitchen. The lantern was still lit, although it looked low on oil. The curtains were closed but he knew his silhouette would be visible if he stood. So he slinked across the wooden floor to the table and extinguished the lamp.
He pulled his infrared glasses down from his forehead. He figured Kinnard was likely to have infrared glasses, too, so he stayed hidden as much as possible while he slipped back over to the porch door and opened it. Staying in the shadow of the open door, he rose enough to look out. The moon was still bright.
Then he spotted a figure sneaking down toward the house from the north. Matt recognized Kinnard’s burly silhouette. His weapon was slung over his shoulder as he carefully picked his way across the snow from tree to tree.
Matt waited, watching. Once Kinnard got to the clearing, he’d have to step into the open to come any closer. Matt’s fingers tightened on the MAC-10. He could take Kinnard out at any time. He’d used deadly force a few times as an Air Force Special Op, but always as a last resort. A dead last resort.
No, he wanted Kinnard alive. He wanted to find out who had hired him, and why. He knew he was capable of extracting every bit of information Kinnard had, if he were willing to apply the necessary impetus.
Still, to be safe, he kept a bead on the man as he paused at the edge of the trees. As Matt watched, the kidnapper pulled on a pair of infrared glasses, swung his rifle off his shoulder and held it ready as he stepped into the clearing.
As if on cue, clouds covered the moon. Without the glasses, Matt would be blind in the cloudy darkness. Yet he could see Kinnard’s heat silhouette, and he tracked him across the snow-covered ground through his gun’s scope.
Kinnard swung the rifle slowly across the windows and doors of the cabin. Matt ducked back into the shadow of the doorway as Kinnard swiveled the barrel his way.
He waited, counting the seconds, considering what he would do if he were the other man. After enough time had passed that the man should have moved on to survey the next window, Matt took a chance and peered out.
Sure enough, Kinnard was aiming at the far west window as he eased forward, his shadow crawling across the moonlit snow.
Matt took a deep breath and rapidly crossed the door’s opening, flattening his back against the left facing. Now he was in a better position to shoot, if he had to.
He angled around the facing to get a better look at Kinnard’s position.
A shot rang out—cracking the cold, silent air.
Kinnard went down.
Chapter Eleven
SATURDAY 2000 HOURS
Aimee shot straight up off the bed at the sound of the gunshot. Before her brain could process the meaning of what she’d heard, several other shots followed—each one quieter than the last. Echoes, she realized.
But echoes of what? Matt’s gun? Or Kinnard’s rifle? Matt’s gun was fully automatic, but she’d only heard the one shot and some echoes. That scared her—a lot.
Had Matt been shot?
William started to whimper. Shellie jumped up, reaching for him.
“Stop!” Aimee barked, pointing the barrel of the Glock at Shellie’s head.
Shellie froze, her hands out, fingers spread.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Aimee whispered.
“That was a gunshot. It scared him,” Shellie protested.
“Hush!” Aimee dared a quick glance at her baby. He hiccoughed and stirred, probably as much disturbed by the tension in the room as by the gunfire, then settled back to sleep. She held her breath and listened.
She didn’t hear another shot, but a low deep rumbling rose from somewhere.
Shellie raised her head.
“What’s that?” Aimee asked.
When Shellie didn’t answer, she took a step toward her. “I asked you a question.”
“It sounds like snow moving.” Shellie licked her lips. Her fingers twitched, and her eyes darted back and forth from the gun in Aimee’s hand to the baby.
Aimee moved away from her, toward the door that led into the living room. She didn’t want to take a chance that Shellie would try to rush her and take her gun away. “You mean an avalanche?”
Shellie’s dark eyes met hers. She nodded. “A small one. That gunshot may have dislodged the wet snow.”
Panic fluttered in Aimee’s throat. “Is it coming this way? What happens if it hits the cabin?”
Shellie shrugged. “This late in the year, when the weather’s getting warmer, slides happen a lot. Can I pick up the baby? He’s going to be scared.”
Aimee looked at her son, then back at Shellie. No, she wanted to say. He’s my baby. I’ll pick him up. But the only thing she knew about this woman was that she cared for William. She wouldn’t hurt him. What she would do to Aimee if she let down her guard, Aimee didn’t know.
Doing her best to keep her face expressionless, Aimee nodded. “Have you got a safety seat?”
Shellie nodded. “Right there in the corner.”
“Don’t move. I’ll get it.” Aimee backed toward the corner and grabbed the child safety seat. She sat it on the foot of the bed near Shellie then backed away.
“Put him in it.”
“Uh, ma’am? You’re his mother, aren’t you?”
Aimee froze. Was she that transparent? “Why would you say that?”
Shellie smiled as she strapped William safely into his seat. “I can see how he reacts to your voice. And you can’t keep your eyes off him. I don’t exactly know what Roy’s doing, but I do know this baby needs his mama.” She pushed the seat toward Aimee. “Take him. I know you’re dying to.”
Aimee forced herself to keep her eyes on Shellie. “No. I can’t.” She’d promised Matt that she could be a good soldier. William was safe. She didn’t have to hold him to know that. Her hands tightened on the Glock’s handle and she shook her head.
“He knows I’m here. And I know you’ve taken good care of him.”
“I’ve been waiting for someone to get here. I called the police this morning, before Roy got here.” Tears formed in Shellie’s eyes and slipped down her face. “I know you don’t trust me, but I did take care of him.”
“You made the anonymous call?”
“Please don’t tell Roy. He gets mad. But I was afraid something would happen to the baby.”
“Thank you, Shellie,” Aimee said, just as another deep rumble filled the air and she felt a shudder—she had no idea if it were the cabin floor or her own legs shaking, until she saw the lantern’s flame waver.
Her fingers tightened on the Glock. First the gunshot and now an avalanche. Her head spun with panic and worry. Matt was out there. What if he’d been shot?
Had she found her baby only to lose Matt?
KINNARD HADN’T MOVED. Matt kept the MAC and his eye trained on the kidnapper’s torso. Even with the infrared glasses, he couldn’t tell if any of the shadows he saw were blood. And he couldn’t risk going out to check.
Because the gunshot hadn’t been from a Glock semiautomatic, or any other kind of handgun. That shot had come from a rifle at least as powerful as the one Kinnard carried. A gun he’d heard firing before.
It had to be Al Hamar, Novus’s man who’d followed Matt back from Mahjidastan.
Kinnard had shot him back at the ransom dr
op point. Matt had seen the blood. But obviously Al Hamar’s injury wasn’t serious. It certainly hadn’t kept him from following them.
Now he was trying to kill Kinnard. Matt had to assume it was because Kinnard was trying to kill Matt.
He’d be happy if Kinnard and Al Hamar got into a cross fire with each other, leaving Matt free to get Aimee and William to safety. But he knew it would be dangerous to let down his guard, so he crept back through the kitchen and into the front room. He wanted to check out the downhill side of the cabin and try to pinpoint Al Hamar’s location.
Just as he started across the floor, he heard Aimee’s voice, ordering the girl to precede her out of the bedroom.
As soon as he saw her, he spoke quietly. “Aimee.”
Both women jumped.
“Matt! Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Shh. Get down, both of you.”
“Where did that shot come from?”
“South. Below the cabin. I think Kinnard took a bullet.”
“Roy?” the girl cried. “Roy’s shot? Oh my God!” She set the baby seat down on the floor. One hand went to her mouth and the other pressed against her tummy.
“Calm down, Shellie,” Aimee snapped at her. “Don’t move.”
Matt pushed his infrared glasses up onto his forehead and watched the two women’s silhouettes.
“Is William okay?” he asked.
“He’s fine. Shellie took very good care of him. Matt, she’s the one who called in the tip.”
“What? She called the police—?”
“Where is he? Where’s Roy?” Shellie sobbed. “Is he in the kitchen?”
“He’s outside,” Matt said. “Settle down. We’ll check on him as soon as I can be sure Al—the shooter—is gone.”
“No! No!” Shellie ran for the front door.
“Shellie, wait!” Aimee cried.
“Hold it!” Matt said. “I need to ask you some questions about the kidnapping.”
“No! I have to get to Roy! How could you shoot him?” Shellie broke for the door.
Matt dove for her but she got to the door first and slipped through, shoving it wide enough to block Matt and slow him down.
