by Jo Leigh
“Scoot over.” Mike lifted a handful of bedding and shoved it aside. There wasn’t much room, and he had to get down on hands and knees to make it, but finally he sat right next to Sam. The blankets settled back down, cutting off his view of the room. “It’s a little warm, but not half bad,” he said.
“It doesn’t smell too good.”
“Maybe Mom can think of a way to fix that.”
“Probably.”
As they settled into silence, Becky’s words swirled in Mike’s head. The last thing he wanted was for Sam to grow up to be like him. To go to work every day and not give a damn. To eat alone every night. To fall asleep in front of the TV set. The only bright spot in his life was this little guy.
“You want to talk?” Mike looked to his side. Sam sat cross-legged, with his hands folded in his lap. His hair was all messy from crawling around, but he seemed to be doing fine. He didn’t look up at Mike, but straight ahead through a small gap between a Mickey Mouse sleeping bag and an afghan.
“About what?”
“About what we discussed downstairs.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“You scared?”
Sam shook his head. “Nope.”
“I am.”
That got Sam’s attention. He turned to look at Mike. He seemed surprised. “You are?”
Mike nodded. “Sure. It’s a scary thing to have someone want to hurt you.”
“But you're in the FBI.”
Mike smiled. “You think FBI men don’t get scared?”
“Uh-uh.”
“We do.” He reached over and took Sam’s hand in his. The small palm and fingers were soft and delicate, and reminded him again of just how fragile his little boy was. “Being brave doesn’t mean you can’t be scared. Being brave is doing what you can even when you're scared. Facing trouble, even though all you want to do is run for the hills.”
“But you don’t act scared.”
“Maybe I don’t talk about it. But I feel it sometimes. Just like you.”
Sam’s squeezed his hand tighter. “Where will I live if that guy kills you?”
He wanted to tell Sam that it would never happen. That there was no chance that Mojo would get to them. But he couldn’t lie. Sam already knew too much about death. He’d seen it firsthand. He may be only nine, but he still deserved the truth.
“If that happens, you'll live with Grandpa.”
“Will I still go to the same school?”
“I think so. But you know, we probably aren’t going to get killed. What’s likely is that my partner Cliff is going to catch Mr. Jones and put him in jail for a long, long time.”
“But if he does, I'll be an orphan then.”
“Do you know what a long shot is?”
Sam shook his head.
“It’s when there’s a chance something will happen, but only a tiny one. Like the Cubs winning the series. It could happen, but it’s really, really unlikely.”
“But you said...”
“The reason I said those things downstairs was to prepare you for the very worst. But the very worst is a long way from what’s probably going to happen. So you don’t have to spend a lot of time worrying about it. As a matter of fact, now that you know what to do, you don’t have to think about it at all.”
“I'll try.”
He leaned over and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “Listen, kiddo. If you remember the safety rules, you'll be just fine. You got that?”
Sam leaned a little bit to the right, just enough so that his shoulder and arm made contact with Mike. “I like it when you live with us.”
“I know, Sam. I know.” He sat in the quiet of the closet. He couldn’t hear the wind outside, or the trees banging on the roof. All he heard was the soft, sweet breathing of his son.
Becky had been right. Sam hadn’t been stoic, just scared. Why had he resisted her words so fiercely? What was he trying to prove?
All he knew for sure was that he would do anything to keep his son safe and happy. The safe part was simple. Find Mojo and make sure he would never have a chance to hurt his family again. He still believed the letters in his duffel bag held the clues to Mojo’s plans. When Sam went to sleep, he would go look at them again.
As for keeping Sam happy, well that would be a little trickier. Becky would know how. He would ask her. And this time, he wouldn’t argue. He would just listen.
He closed his eyes.
* * *
The sound of a footstep woke him. Mike felt disoriented for a moment, until he realized he was still in the closet. He felt the weight of Sam’s body leaning against his left side. When he turned to look, he saw that his son was out. His eyes were closed, but his mouth wasn’t. He was as limp as a dishrag. If Mike had been in that position, he would have been in traction for a week. Sam wouldn’t feel a thing.
“Mike?”
“Yeah.” The sleeping bag in front of him moved, and then Becky was staring at him.
“It’s time to get up. You guys have been asleep for a long time.”
“I'm not sleeping.” Sam yawned as he sat up. “I was just resting.”
“I see. Well, it’s too late for lunch. So how about coming down for dinner? While you two were wasting the whole afternoon, I baked cookies for dessert.”
It took Sam a lot less time than Mike to crawl out. He managed, but a lot of bed rolls came out with him.
“What kind of cookies?” Sam asked.
Becky smiled. “What kind do you think?”
“Chocolate chip?”
She nodded, and Sam raced out of the room.
“Not till after dinner,” she called after him. Then she turned back to Mike.
He was busy rubbing a kink out of the small of his back.
“Whatever you did, it worked.”
“Huh?”
“Sam. He’s acting like his old self again.”
“How can you tell? You saw him for two seconds.”
“I'm his mother. I can see when he’s upset and when he’s not. Now, come on. What happened?”
“We just talked a bit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This couldn’t have anything to do with our earlier conversation, could it?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Seems you were right.”
She studied him some more. Her gaze traveled over his face, searching for clues. “I was, huh?”
He nodded. “He was scared. He didn’t want to admit it.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I was scared, too.”
She smiled. It changed her whole face. She looked soft and beautiful, and he was glad to have those eyes looking at him. “You confuse the hell out of me, you know that?”
He smiled back at her. “It’s my job.”
“Come on down. Chocolate chip is your favorite, too.”
She turned and he watched her walk out of the bedroom. His gaze traveled down the length of her, admiring her sleek body and the way she moved. All that and brains, too, he thought. He had a good feeling about the night to come.
He didn’t go right to the kitchen. First, he went to his bedroom and washed his face. The nap had done some good, but he still felt achy and stiff. He needed a solid night’s sleep. If Cliff didn’t call with good news soon, he doubted he would get one.
Mojo could be out there, on the mountain. It would be hard to travel in this blizzard, but it could be done. He would need a snowmobile. A map and a compass. Some luck. On the other hand, even if he knew they were staying at the lodge, he would have to know which cabin they were in. Mike thought about the smoke from the fireplace. He would wait until it was fully dark before he lit the next fire.
He sat on the edge of his bed and opened his duffel bag. The letters were on top, and he pulled out the stack. He heard Sam’s laugh coming from the kitchen. Then he read.
Dear Mike,You never write, you never call. It’s starting to hurt my feelings. We have so much in common, you and I. We really should be closer, don’t you
think? It’s not as if you didn’t have the time. That restaurant you frequent, George’s Café? You could bring a pad and pen in there. No one would bother you. Just like always, you could sit for hours in the back booth, nursing your coffee, eating your tasteless meals. I think it would look less pathetic if you busied yourself with correspondence, don’t you?
There was more, but Mike didn’t have the stomach to read it now. Every time that lunatic mentioned something personal he wanted to tear his throat out. Where the hell had he gotten his information? How had he known about George’s Café?
He folded the letter and put it back with the others in his duffel bag. He would work on this some more tonight. The letters held the key. He knew it.
Becky and Sam had already started eating by the time he got to the kitchen. An empty bowl and a thick sandwich waited for him. “Smells good in here.”
Becky got up and took his bowl to the stove. She ladled some of Sam’s favorite alphabet soup, then brought it back to him. The steam filled his nostrils, and he realized just how hungry he was.
“Did you see?” Sam asked through a mouthful of tuna sandwich. “Mom baked a cake, too.”
“Swallow first,” Mike said. She’d been busy. A golden cake sat cooling on the counter. Next to that were the cookies, big ones, lots of them. On the stove, next to the soup, a larger pot boiled loudly. He turned to Becky. “Bored, were we?”
She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. Something had shifted. The atmosphere had changed. The tension from this morning had disappeared. Sam, for the first time since they’d been here, acted like Sam. He ate his soup with a vengeance and swung his legs beneath the table. Becky was different, too. It was nuts, but the way she was looking at him—she was being coy. Flirting.
Had all this come about because he’d told Sam it was okay to be scared? That didn’t make sense.
But what else could explain it? They were still stuck in this little cabin. The blizzard still howled. Mojo was still out there.
“None of us will be bored tonight,” Becky said. “I've made plans.”
Mike looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows. “Uh-oh.”
Sam giggled.
“Let’s play checkers, then we'll work some more on that puzzle. After that, I thought we would play these word games.” She got up from the table and went to the counter by the phone. There was a brown bag there, and she brought it with her back to the table. “Look,” she said. She pulled out a thick tablet. “It’s a game. Full of stories that have a bunch of words left out. We make up words to fill in the blanks. Then we read them out loud. Sounds great, huh?”
Mike nodded. All he’d wanted was to sit by the fire and turn in early. But he didn’t want to spoil the mood. “Can’t wait.”
He ate his sandwich and watched his family. What used to be his family. Sam hummed the theme from Star Wars as he chewed. Becky looked relaxed and comfortable. Even though he knew it was an illusion, he didn’t care. He wanted to have this moment.
He wandered back in time, shaking out old memories. Nothing had given him more pleasure than quiet times with his family. Not his job, not vacations. Nothing. He would sit in the living room, pretending to read the newspaper, while Becky and the kids puttered around the house. He’d felt like king of the world, with a sense of satisfaction that he’d never found again. He never suspected that it all would be taken from him in the blink of an eye.
Now, the only real pleasure he had was to remember what was. Except for Sam. He watched his boy take another letter from his soup and put it on his plate. He’d collected quite a few. Mike saw he had spelled the name Darrelyn with the pasta. Wasn’t nine too young to be interested in girls? In his time, maybe, but it was a new world.
He took another bite of his sandwich. It was the best meal he’d had in ages.
Becky took her empty dishes to the sink. She felt hopeful for the first time since this nightmare had begun. Mike had really made an effort with Sam. When it came to his son, Mike was capable of going the distance. She believed that with all her heart. He’d proved it again today, when he’d talked to Sam about being scared. What a difference he’d made.
She turned at the sink and leaned back, just watching her little boy. He was playing with the letters from the soup. His hands were gooey, but she didn’t care. He wasn’t that sullen, withdrawn kid anymore. At least for now. She would do anything she could to keep it that way.
She thought about the letter she’d read on Sam’s computer. Maybe, just maybe, if Mike could be that way with Sam, he could be that way with her. Had Sam shown her that letter in an attempt to bring them back together? Was he really clever enough, old enough, to plot something that subtle?
Her gaze moved to her husband. Her ex-husband. He’d really listened to her concerns this afternoon. She knew he was frightened to let down his guard. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. What puzzled her was what he thought he was going to lose. Did he believe the Tin Man act would save him from being hurt again? Maybe. Tonight, she would bring it up. After today’s success with Sam, he might even be willing to listen.
But what if he did listen? What if he said he wanted to change? Did she really want to get involved with him again? Her life worked now. She was busy and productive, and her days—and nights—weren’t filled with dread about Mike getting hurt. Maybe she should just leave well enough alone. “You guys ready for dessert?”
Sam nodded. “I want five.”
“Five? These are big, Sam.” She lifted the plate and brought it over to the table. Each cookie was the size of a saucer. “Are you sure you can eat that many?”
“I'll bet you I can.”
“What kind of a bet?” She sat down and looked from Sam’s smiling face to Mike. He grinned, too. He seemed younger. More handsome. The humor in his eyes captivated her, and she remembered, a little too clearly, how she had always been a sucker for that look.
“If I can eat five cookies right now, we don’t have to work on that stupid puzzle tonight.”
She laughed. “Stupid puzzle, eh? And what happens if you can’t eat all five?” She knew he could, of course. He would be sick afterward, but he could do it.
“Then we put the puzzle together.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no. That’s not nearly enough. If you can’t eat all five cookies, then you have to—”
“Clean the kitchen for a week,” Mike said.
Becky grinned. “And help with the laundry.”
“What?” Sam screeched. “That’s not fair.”
“You called the puzzle stupid, Samson,” Mike said, suddenly serious. “You know perfectly well how your mother feels about puzzles. Now you have to pay.”
Sam grabbed a cookie. “I'll eat six!” He took a huge bite.
Mike got up. He moved slowly behind Sam’s chair. Sam swiveled around to look at him. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mike said.
Becky didn’t know what he was doing, either. Then Mike motioned for her to join him. She did.
Sam, still chewing, tried to scoot his chair back so he could get up.
“Nope. You have to sit right there.”
“That wasn’t in the rules.”
“Sure it was.” Mike wiggled his fingers so that Becky could see he wanted to tickle Sam.
She shook her head, and leaned very close to him. “He'll choke,” she whispered.
Mike stopped. Clearly, she’d foiled his plan. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.
Then she knew just what to do. She smiled. Only one thing bothered Sam more than being tickled. Big sloppy kisses. She winked at Mike, then went down on her knees so her face was level with Sam’s.
Mike followed quickly.
Sam looked at her, then spun to look at Mike. He was trapped and he knew it. “No fair!”
“That’s only one cookie,” Mike said. “Five to go.”
“Get away!”
“Nope,” Becky said. She nodded at Mike. As a unit, they l
eaned forward and smooched Sam’s cheeks.
He screeched.
Becky had to stop. She was laughing too hard to keep going. Mike was still at it, making unbelievable sounds as he kissed Sam, who flailed around in a desperate attempt to escape. “Five more to go,” she said and moved in for another round.
Just before she made contact with his cheek, Sam disappeared. He slid from his chair, under the table in one smooth move. Suddenly, she was staring at Mike, her face and his only inches apart.
She froze. Mike did too. They stared at each other for a long minute. Then Mike leaned forward.
Chapter 8
Becky watched his face come nearer. She held her breath as his lips brushed against hers, softly, like a whisper. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her again, harder this time, but not by much. Just enough to send a little shock wave through her system.
“I've finished. All six!”
Becky’s eyes snapped open and she pulled back. Mike gave her a wistful smile, and she felt her cheeks fill with heat. She turned quickly away, afraid that he would see her reaction to his kiss.
He’d barely touched her. His lips had been warm but closed. And he’d made her tremble.
She sat back and watched as Sam held up both hands to show he’d eaten all the cookies. The smile on his face was worth a million dollars. His eyes looked alive and spirited and his giggles were filled with delight. Then she saw the cookie-shaped lump in his pocket, and she grinned. She wouldn’t say a word.
Mike reached forward and grabbed Sam by the waist. He pulled him into his arms and gave him a bear hug that Becky almost felt. She pictured herself in Mike’s arms, then shook away the image as quickly as she could. What was she thinking? Mike toppled to his side and brought Sam with him. Their laughter filled the room as Mike got down to some serious tickling. Sam wiggled like a fish under his teasing hands.
She started to move toward them, to join in the fray, but stopped short. It was wonderful to see Sam and Mike so free and easy, but she was a fool if she thought it was for keeps. They’d all been so tense for so long, it was only natural that they would seek relief. That had been her original intent, hadn’t it?
