Abby pressed her lips together and nodded.
After what seemed like an eternity, the woman scowled and waved them through toward the conveyor belt feeding into the luggage scanner. Gabe resumed breathing.
The agent working the scanner barked, “Coats and shoes off. Cell phones in tray.” He paused and ran an appraising gaze over the two. “Jewelry, too. Then step forward.”
Gabe’s tray went through first. He walked through to collect his belongings.
The agent said, “Hold it,” and picked up the ring. “Interesting. Whaddaya call that stone?”
Mentally cursing Abby and her damn witchy icons, Gabe flashed his fake grin. “Obsidian. Family heirloom. I don’t like it but my dad wants me to wear it.”
The man held the ring to the light and examined it carefully. Was he just killing time on a slow night, or had the machine picked up something? Beads of perspiration popped out on Gabe’s forehead. He had to bite his lip to keep from cursing.
“Why does your dad want you to wear it?”
“Hey, man, our flight’s about to leave. Could we hurry this up?”
“Oh, yeah. Right,” The man handed the ring back to Gabe and then plucked a bottle of hand sanitizer from Gabe’s coat pocket. Hand sanitizer that Mrs. Wachsmith insisted her students carry with them at all times. “Can’t take this on board, though.”
“It’s all yours,” Gabe said, gathering up his belongings.
Abby’s tray rolled through.
“Please step forward, miss,” the agent said.
Abby, her forehead crinkled with worry lines, avoided Gabe’s eyes.
Frowning, the man reached across Abby and lifted the pendant from the tray. “The scanner reacted to this necklace. Not sure why.”
He set the pendant in his palm and studied it.
Gabe closed his eyes. We’re so screwed! Goodbye, Birdie.
Abby shrugged like she didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s just a harmless piece of junk jewelry. You can have it if you want.” She leaned close to the man and murmured words too low for Gabe to hear. Then she touched the pendant with her index finger.
The man lifted his gaze from the pendant and stared into Abby’s eyes. A long moment ticked by. Gabe held his breath. Finally, the man gave a little jerk, handed her the pendant, and blinked rapidly. “Move along, you two. You’re holding up the line.”
They passed through the body-scanning machine without a hitch and sprinted, shoelaces flapping, up the escalator and through the concourse leading to the D gates. Puffing with exertion, Gabe looked over his shoulder at Abby. “What did you do to that guy back there?”
She clasped a hand around the pendant and gasped, “Helped . . . him . . . change his mind.”
When Gabe spotted a large group of passengers gathering up their carry-ons at gate D4, he stopped abruptly. Abby slammed into his back, stumbled, and lost her balance. Gabe grabbed her arm and hauled her up.
“Listen,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.
The unmistakable sound of an irate, squalling baby echoed through the massive corridors.
“Birdie?”
“Absolutely,” Gabe said. “I’d know that cry anywhere.”
He started toward the crowded waiting area, Abby trailing behind. “Wait, Gabe,” she called. “How do you want to do this?”
“What I want to do is grab the baby and run like hell. Probably not a good idea” He pointed at her pendant. “Can that thing help us?”
“It already did.” She caught his hand in hers. “Now it’s up to you. Birdie belongs with you. She’s blood of your blood. You’re the smartest guy I know, Gabe. You’ll figure it out. I know you will. Just tell me how to help.”
When Gabe looked into Abby’s steady gaze and listened to the words spoken from her heart, a rush of confidence swept through him, filling him with fierce purpose. He thought for a moment and then brushed his hand against her cheek. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
GABE AND ABBY moved to the edge of the crowd, taking care not to draw attention to themselves despite their urgency. They fell in behind the passengers who’d formed a sloppy line in anticipation of the boarding announcement. Gabe tugged on the bill of his ball cap to cast his face in shadow.
“There they are,” Abby whispered.
Clad in high-heeled boots, tight jeans, and a leather jacket, Lacey stood at the front of the line. No baby in her arms. Instead, she was gazing into a compact and finger combing her hair. Directly behind Lacey, another woman dressed in a gray pants suit wrestled with Birdie, trying in vain to comfort the kicking, screaming baby.
“Who’s holding Birdie?”
Seething with rage, Gabe whispered, “Paula McMillan. The fake social worker I told you about.”
He gave Abby a gentle nudge. “Now go. Don’t let Lacey see your face.”
Abby pulled up the hood of her pink sweatshirt, tucked her hair inside and headed for the counter in front of the boarding gate. Gabe watched as she sidled through the crowd, her back to Lacey and McMillan. She reached the counter just as the agent began to speak into her microphone. The woman stopped and leaned forward, listening intently to Abby. Gabe crossed his fingers. His hastily formed plan hinged on Lacey. Would she react the way he thought she would?
The woman spoke into the microphone. “Passenger Woodard, please report to the counter for an upgrade to first class. Lacey Woodard, report to the counter.”
Abby faded back into the crowd.
Lacey stopped primping, dropped her compact into her purse, and approached the counter. Gabe pushed his way through the milling passengers, oblivious to their muttered protests. He stepped up behind Lacey and tapped her shoulder. She glanced at his face and froze.
“Hello, Lacey. You’ve got something of mine. I want her back.”
Eyes wide with fear, she whirled, shoved him hard in the chest and took off running, leaping over bags and skirting the crowd. Once she reached the open corridor, she sprinted away without a backward glance
The agent behind the counter was trying to get Gabe’s attention. “Sir! Sir!”
Gabe ignored her and hurried to Paula McMillan. Abby fell in beside him. Ashen-faced, McMillan clutched the squalling baby, her gaze darting from side to side as if looking for an escape route. Aware that something unusual was happening, the crowd pressed forward.
“Birdie,” Gabe called. “Come to daddy.”
Birdie risked a glance over her shoulder. Her sobs subsided. She took a deep, shuddering breath and held out her arms to Gabe.
Gabe wrapped his hands around her body and tugged. McMillan, eyes bright with fury, held tight to the baby’s legs.
Someone in the crowd yelled, “Give him the kid, lady. It’s obviously his.”
“Yeah,” another person said, “She’s been screaming for an hour. This a custody thing or what?”
Gabe nodded. “Yeah, and I have custody.” He leaned close to McMillan and whispered, “I’m sure the agent already called security. You want to blow your fake cover? You want to explain why you’re taking my kid to Sacramento? Remember, I’ve got her birth certificate.”
Fear flashed in McMillan’s eyes. She released her grip on the baby and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring their curious stares. Gabe watched as a man dressed in dark clothing, folded his newspaper, stood and walked swiftly in the same direction.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured to Abby. She grabbed Birdie’s car seat and diaper bag and ran to catch up with him.
They’d barely stepped onto the main concourse when they heard the order, “You with the baby, stop!”
Gabe fought the overpowering need to run. Instead, he stopped and turned to face the two burly security men closing in on them. He glanced over at Abby wh
o was pale and shaking. Should he ask for her help? Would magic make it better or worse? No, Abby was right. The baby was blood of his blood. His responsibility.
“This your baby?” One of the men asked.
“Yes.”
“ID, please. Both of you.”
Gabe struggled to hang onto Birdie while retrieving the wallet from his back pocket.
“Give her to me,” Abby said. She lifted the exhausted baby from Gabe’s arms and placed her in the car seat.
Gabe handed over his driver’s license.
“We’ll need the child’s ID, too,” the other man said.
Gabe stifled a groan. “I don’t have it with me.”
“So, really, you have no proof the baby is yours.”
Suddenly Gabe couldn’t take it anymore. The events of the evening coalesced into a simmering ball of rage and frustration and he exploded. “Hell, yes, I have proof! Her birth certificate’s at home.”
“Take it easy, son. You’re not helping yourself here.”
Abby stepped between Gabe and the men. “His parents are at baggage claim. Maybe you should talk to them.”
The two men exchanged a glance. “Your parents are here?”
Gabe nodded. Why hadn’t he thought to play the parent card?
Ten minutes later, the entire family plus Abby were in a private office. Much to Gabe’s relief, Papi said, “I’ll handle this, son,” and kicked into full bore pro-active mode. He called Simon and instructed him to fax a copy of Birdie’s birth certificate. Stat.
It was after midnight before all the details were ironed out and the weary group was free to go. Holding Birdie to his chest, Gabe stepped through the automatic doors into a chaotic scene of flashing lights, uniformed policemen, and aid cars.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Gabe said.
Gabe and the others approached a group of onlookers clustered under the roof overhang, out of the rain. “What happened?”
“Some woman got creamed by a shuttle bus.”
“Yeah, I heard she had some help.”
“Help?” Gabe said.
“That guy over there? The one talking to the cop? He said a guy dressed in black shoved her in front of the bus and took off running.”
A feeling of dread rose in Gabe’s chest. Could this night get any worse? He peered through the slashing rain as an ambulance pulled slowly away from the curb.
A person in the crowd said, “No reason to hurry. She’s toast.”
“Anybody know her name?” Papi asked.
“I heard the guy say she was wearing gray pants and a jacket.”
Abby gripped Gabe’s arm. “Paula McMillan was wearing a gray pants suit.” She searched Gabe’s eyes for an answer.
He leaned close and whispered, “I saw a guy in black follow her from the gate.”
Abby shuddered. “There’s evil here. I can feel it.”
A chill crept down Gabe’s spine that had nothing to do with the weather. The air around him grew oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Jumbled thoughts raced through his brain. The back of his neck tingled. Gabe glanced over his shoulder, halfway expecting to see someone creeping up behind him. Never had he felt more vulnerable.
Heart pounding in alarm, he turned to his father. “We’re in danger. Let’s get out of here.”
The feeling lingered until they dropped Connie off at her hotel and headed for home. Papi pulled into Abby’s driveway. She dropped a kiss on Birdie’s head before she slipped out the door. “See ya tomorrow, Gabe.”
“Hold it.” Gabe stepped out of the van and wrapped his arms around her. He leaned down and pressed his cheek against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured. “Thank you doesn’t cover it.” He cupped her face in his hands and, aware of Papi’s surveillance, gave her a chaste peck on the lips. “See ya tomorrow.”
“What about Lacey?’ she whispered.
“Dunno. Too late to call Boomer tonight. I’ll check with him tomorrow. Don’t worry, okay?”
Simon poked his head into the garage as Gabe and Papi offloaded Birdie and all her paraphernalia. “So, everything’s okay?”
“Yep,” Gabe said. “It’s all good. Go to bed.”
After Gabe tucked Birdie into her crib, he knocked on his father’s bedroom door. “Papi? We need to talk.”
Papi opened the door, clad in a strap tee shirt, baggy boxer shorts, and black socks. Gabe hid a smile. Papi had never been a GQ kind of guy. Papi pointed at the chair next to the bed. “Sit. It must be important if we’re discussing it at 2 a.m.”
Gabe perched on the chair. “I think Paula McMillan was the woman killed at Sea-Tac. Whoever wants Birdie is willing to kill to get their hands on her. Our family could be in danger.”
Papi sat on the edge of the bed, took off his glasses, and polished them with the hem of his tee shirt. When he looked up at Gabe, his eyes were bright with anger. “That is unacceptable. Tomorrow, we will hold a family meeting and decide how to proceed. In the meantime, we must all be vigilant. I’ll speak to Henry and Simon in the morning.”
He stood and hooked an arm around Gabe’s neck, pulling him close. “I’m proud of you, son,” he whispered. “Stay strong.”
Gabe bit his lip to stop the hot tears stinging his eyes. He stepped away from his father, muttered, “Thanks,” and bolted from the room, wondering what tomorrow would bring. Then, he realized, it was already tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Scientific Academy of Merit
“DAMMIT!” SAMANTHA Worthington examined the blood oozing from the puncture wound on her thumb. She extended her hand and let the blood drip onto a pristine white rose. Somehow, seeing the scarlet stain spreading across the perfect white rose made her feel better.
In times past, a stroll through the academy’s rose garden and water feature had a calming effect on her. Not today. Taking care to avoid the rose’s thorny branches, she retrieved the pruning shears from where she’d thrown them in a fit of rage. Overhead, a passenger plane began its descent to the nearby airport, brilliant sunlight dancing on its silver wings. Another reminder of who had not been on the flight from Seattle last night.
It was after midnight when she’d received the bad news. No baby. Hamilton Knowles had tried to put a positive spin on it. “At least no money was wasted.”
Samantha had to fight the urge to strangle him with her bare hands.
Yes, K-35 had done his job and no money was spent. But one fact remained: Samantha had, once again, been outsmarted by an eighteen-year-old kid.
She attacked the bloodstained rose bush with the pruning shears, slashing and cutting until all that remained was a single mutilated woody stem. Breathing hard, she retreated to a group of benches next to the artificial waterfall. She glanced at the secure wing, the lock-down unit with high, barred windows. The unit that housed her unique specimens. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and punched in a number. When the supervisor answered, she wasted no time with pleasantries. “Do we have a sample of Jacob Landman’s DNA?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him to the rose garden.”
“Right away, Ma’am.”
It was time to apply more pressure on Landman. In the past, he’d been uncooperative to the max, refusing to reveal the whereabouts of his granddaughter, Elizabeth. He’d insisted on playing dumb about the whole Abolescos connection, even though Samantha already knew his past history from the paid informant who’d befriended him.
Tapping her foot with impatience, Samantha stared at the locked double doors leading to the secure unit. Five minutes passed before the doors opened and Landman appeared. Dressed in khaki trousers and a white tee shirt, Landman, accompanied by an aide, Gary Wilson, shuffled out the door and onto the lush grounds, one hand lifted to shield his eyes from the sun. W
ilson gripped his arm and helped him across the grassy expanse to Samantha.
Samantha stood and pointed to a bench opposite her own. “Sit.”
“No thank you. I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself,” she said. Why did Landman seize every opportunity to defy her? Perhaps he needed to be softened up.
“You want me to stay?” Wilson said.
Samantha’s rule was to never be alone with one of the supes. Surely, this old man wasn’t a threat, but still, it paid to be cautious.
“Stay,” she said, studying Landman’s face.
His expression was neutral, except for his eyes. His eyes were deep brown pools of sadness, a fact that made Samantha almost giddy with excitement. The last time she’d interviewed him, she’d seen nothing in his eyes but anger and resentment. Progress, she thought.
“Mr. Landman,” she began, taking care to sound respectful. “We know where your great granddaughter is. Wouldn’t you like to see her?”
Hope flared briefly in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the ground. When he lifted his head, his expression had changed. The sadness was gone, replaced by a look of contempt. “Sounds like you’re getting a little desperate. Having trouble getting your hands on the baby, Samantha?”
Samantha ground her teeth in frustration, took a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly. “Think how nice it would be, Jacob. You and the baby here together. A family reunion.”
Landman glanced over at Wilson. “Take me back inside, Gary. I’ve got nothing more to say to this woman.”
Samantha stood and screeched. “You’ll go back inside when I say so!”
Landman chuckled and spoke to Wilson. “Power trip.”
Shaking with rage, Samantha said, “It would behoove you to remember exactly who has the power in our relationship. You’re a useless old man. Give me one good reason I should continue to feed and clothe you.”
“I’ve lived my life. I’m not afraid to die.”
Baby Gone Bye Page 15
