"That goes really well with my leg ache. That theory could fly until you showed up. You think they haven't at least seen a photo of you? You think that there's any way they wouldn't know you're the boss's daughter? Call, Molly. I want to hear what he has to say. Use your cell phone. Come over here so I can hear."
She sat down on the arm of the recliner and began dialing. Area code 312. Chicago and outlying residential areas, like Oak Park. Sure, that was where Mason Lord lived, only the best. He saw her hand tighten around the phone.
Why hadn't she seen her father for three years?
The phone rang twice, then a man answered, his voice deep and mellifluous.
"Miles? It's me, Molly."
"Yes, Molly. You've got news about Emma?"
"She's fine, Miles. She's back with me. Thank you for asking. I want to give Dad the news."
"Just a moment. Goodness, this is a relief. Mr. Lord's been on a real tear."
"You heard that?" she asked Ramsey. Ramsey was three inches from the receiver.
"Yeah, I heard."
There was a good twenty more seconds of silence, then, "Molly? Emma's safe?"
"Hello, Dad. Yes, I've got her with me. I found her. She's fine."
"I don't understand. I haven't heard a word from my people. Do the Denver police know you've got Emma back?"
"Yes, they know. They don't like the fact that I got her back without them."
"Tell me."
She took a deep breath. "You know I went looking when the cops and the FBI didn't get anywhere. I would have thought your people would know. Well, I found her. A guy had saved her and I came upon both of them. She's safe. We're going to stay out of sight for a while."
"There's no reason to, Molly. Come home. You can bet I'll protect the both of you."
"No, not yet. There are a lot more people involved than just a single kidnapper. I don't want to take any chances. I'm going to keep Emma hidden as long as those people are still out there and looking for her."
Her knuckles were white she was clutching the phone so tightly. "It's not a simple kidnapping, Dad."
"But they got a ransom note."
"Yes, but that ransom note arrived after I already had Emma back. It was a lie. Do you understand any of this?"
"No, but I'll speak to Buzz about it. We've already discussed the possibility of some enemy of mine being involved. But the important thing is you've got Emma back. I'm tremendously relieved." He sighed. She could picture him running his fingers lightly through his hair, never enough to mess it up. "We've got nothing as of yet. But I don't like the feel of this at all. How many people have you seen?"
"Probably four different men, but we've managed to get away from them. We're safely tucked away now."
"All right. I'll speak to Buzz Carmen immediately. He's still in Denver. How exactly did you find out about these other men?"
"I knew they were following so I pulled off at an exit. When they went by, I got the license. I checked with a friend who found out for me that the truck was reportedly stolen from a farmer in Loveland, Colorado. The wife reported it; then the husband said he'd sold it. It sounds like maybe he did sell it-to the kidnappers. I phoned in the license plate to the Denver PD and the FBI. I'd appreciate your checking as well, Dad, then I'd know it got done right." She gave him the license and the name of the farmer.
"I've got it. I don't suppose you'll tell me who gave you this information?"
"I can't."
He sighed. "Very well. Come home, Molly."
"I'll call tomorrow. Emma's just fine. Don't worry. Those men won't find us."
"About this man who found Emma. Who is he? How can you be sure you can trust him?"
"If we can't trust him, Dad, then it's all over. Believe me, he's the most trustworthy man in the world.
Tomorrow, Dad." She pushed the Off button and laid the phone on the table.
"At least you don't call him Godfather."
She smiled at him. It was a charming smile, warm and full. She had a wide mouth and very white teeth.
His father was a dentist. Ramsey always noticed a person's teeth. His old man would really like what he saw.
Ramsey liked that smile, too. It was almost as if she was ready to stop being afraid. She said, "Mason Lord is very good-looking. He's black Irish: fair skinned, hair like ink, straight and thick, just a dabbling of gray at his temples. His eyes are such a startling blue, women just stare at him. He doesn't appreciate having a grown daughter, much less a grandchild, but he copes. My mother was the one who told me I should call him by his first name, but I couldn't get the hang of it. Neither could he. I remember thinking Mason jar every time I used his first name. When I told him that, he threw up his hands, laughed, and said to forget it. He's been Dad for a very long time, actually since I was eight years old and moved away with my mother."
"I've never thought of Mason Lord as having human qualities, like a sense of humor. You don't look a thing like him."
"No, I'm the picture of my grandmother. She was an actress in the fifties. Never got very far with it because she wasn't beautiful or very photogenic. Boy, but could she act. It turned out not to be enough."
"You're far from plain, Molly."
She just smiled at him, that same gorgeous smile. "You should see my mother. Now she's what you'd call a looker. She's fifty-five now and still a head-turning beauty. Both she and Father were appalled, I think, when I turned out the way I did."
She honestly believed what she was saying. It amazed him. Didn't she look in a mirror once in a while?
"Where's your mother? What's her name?"
"Her name is Alicia and she lives near Livorno, Italy. That's where her family is. She and Dad divorced when I was just a kid. I lived with her in Italy nine months out of the year and the other three months with Dad. I came back to the United States to go to college at Vassar. I've only seen her once a year for the past seven or eight years."
"Does she know about Emma's kidnapping?"
"I don't think so, not unless she read about it in an Italian newspaper, and I strongly doubt the story made it there. I saw no reason to worry her."
"Your father hasn't remarried."
"Oh yes he has, nearly three years ago. Her name's Eve and she's two years younger than me."
"You said that Emma's musical. Does she play the piano or something yet?"
"Don't want to know about Eve, huh? I don't blame you. She'd take one gander at you and lick her chops, but not while my dad was looking. One of my mother's old friends called me and filled my ears with tales of Eve Lord. My mother's friend is a Sunday school teacher, so I guess she's trustworthy.
Although maybe she wanted Dad for herself. Who knows? Emma plays the piano."
"I'll buy her one of those two-octave portable pianos tomorrow. I'd like to hear her play."
"Thank you, Ramsey."
"Why haven't you seen your father for three years?"
He swore he could see her stiffen from across the room. He said, "Was it because he'd hurt your husband?"
"You're good at your job."
"Yeah, I am, but this hasn't a thing to do with my job. I'm not being nosy, Molly, just trying to figure out what's going on here. Help me."
"That was part of it."
"That's a lie. I can hear it in your voice."
"All right. Louey said he'd take Emma away from me if I ever saw my father again. He called him a son of a bitch, as I remember."
"Why?"
"Louey hated my father because he found out about him."
"Found out what?"
She sighed deeply. "Louey beat me."
He started to jump out of the chair, grabbed his leg, and sank back down. "That scrawny little fucker beat you? As in he hit you?"
"Yes. Don't think I'm some sort of victim here. I told him if he ever touched me again I'd kill him. To be honest, I don't know if he believed me, but I believed me and I'm sure he must have picked up on that."
"If he had a brain he pic
ked up on it really fast."
"This was three years ago. What happened was that one of my friends found out and called my father.
Mason came to Denver and personally beat the daylights out of Louey.
"He told Louey that if he ever touched me again, he'd kill him. So Louey knew that he was in deep trouble, but he hated being helpless, so he told me not to see my father again."
"Would you have killed him if he'd hit you again?"
"Probably not, but I would have left in a flash. That first time, he was drunk, he'd gotten a bad review on his newly released CD, Danger Floats Deep, and was really angry. That same day I got a notice from a magazine that they wanted to buy some of my photos. He was jealous, which is ridiculous, if you just think about the relative proportion of things. But it didn't matter. Louey took his anger out on me."
"I don't remember hearing a thing about Louey Santera being hurt."
"No, there was no coverage on it. My dad had a doctor come over and check him out. I kicked Louey out the next year."
"Ah," he said. "What took you so long?"
She sighed, realizing how easy it was to talk to him. "I wanted to try to make a go of it for Emma's sake.
Not a smart idea. Actually, when he did officially leave, it was just a formality since he'd moved out of the house and in with one of his girlfriends." Then she laughed. "My father made sure that Louey gave me more money in the settlement than Louey even had at the time. He was royally pissed, but there was nothing he could do about it. He tried the threat again, about Emma, but I wasn't buying it. I told him I'd kill him if he tried to take Emma, and this time, he believed me."
"Why didn't you see your father again? After you and your husband split up?"
"There are two truths. The one I tell people if they ask is that Eve doesn't want to be seen with a stepdaughter who is older than she is. And a step-granddaughter? Please."
"And the other truth? The real truth?"
She began rubbing her arms. 'To most people, if they've even heard of my father, they just think he's a very rich successful businessman. He's in Silicon Valley, into communications, he owns lumber mills in the Northwest, he has a chain of restaurants in the South, lots of other enterprises. He's never been convicted of or indicted for anything. His accountants are top-notch, so he'll never go down on a tax-evasion charge. People like you know that he's a lot more than that. He's a kingpin in extortion, gambling, prostitution, just about everything except drugs. He hates drugs.
"My mother was very wise. After the divorce, she took me far away from him, all the way to Italy. I wasn't raised with his influence. I remember how she'd cry every time she had to put me on an airplane to come to the United States, to him, for those summer months every year. I don't want Emma near him.
My mother kept me away from him and I intend to do the same for Emma."
"Sanction a kill. That's what you said."
"You're right. It came right out. It's insidious, that kind of influence. Can you believe I ever want Emma to even know those words go together? A child growing up with a man like my father-I'd fear for that child and I'd be afraid of the adult that child would become. Now, that's enough. No more for you, Mr. Hunt.
I think we should get some sleep. You don't know Emma. She'll be awake and raring to go at six o'clock in the morning."
"I know. She waited until seven after I got shot in the leg. I'd wake up with this soft little hand on my forearm, just lightly stroking up and down." He was silent a moment. "She's a great kid, Molly."
"I know," she said. "I know."
"We'll keep her safe."
"I know we will," she said.
It was deep in the middle of the night when a loud piercing scream brought Molly straight up in bed.
She grabbed her daughter and shook her. "Em, wake up, honey. Come on, wake up!"
She shook her again. Ramsey stood in the doorway, his heart pounding, his Smith & Wesson in his hand.
He watched Molly sit up and pull Emma onto her lap. "Come on, love, wake up. It's all right. I'm here with you. Ram-sey's here too. Wake up, Emma."
Emma suddenly arched then twisted around, throwing her arms around her mother. She was shuddering and sobbing. Ramsey quickly sat down beside them and held them both tightly. After a few moments, he eased his hold and leaned back. He pushed back Emma's tangled hair from her ear. "It's okay, really, Emma, it's okay. We're here. No bad guys, just us."
She slowly stopped sobbing. She hiccuped. He looked at Molly over Emma's head. Her eyes were shadowed, then he saw her mouth was tight, saw the pain deep within her, visible now to him, and he knew what that pain felt like because he felt it as well. Emma said in a flat singsong voice, "I dreamed about him, Mama. He tied my hands and feet to the bed. He used twine. He said he didn't need rope because I was just a little girl. He said I was perfect and that he needed me more than God needed him.
Only me. He took that twine and he wrapped me like a package." She fell silent. Ramsey and Molly waited, stiff, enraged, but she said nothing more.
They held Emma between them for a very long time. Finally, Molly said quietly, "She's asleep. Thank you, Ramsey. I'll hold her real close the rest of the night."
It was a very long time before Molly fell asleep again.
When she awoke, she felt Emma's wet kiss on her cheek. Emma took her arm and pulled it and she naturally turned over to curl around her daughter's back.
When Ramsey awoke early in the morning, he thought about Emma's nightmare, her flat dead words.
Twine. He'd tied her with twine, as he would a package. He hadn't needed rope. She was just a little girl.
Not that it mattered. If Ramsey could get his hands on that man, he would probably kill him. Would he send the man through the system, confident that he'd be punished as he should be? He didn't know. He just didn't know. And he should know. He walked to the other bedroom, stood quietly in the open doorway, watching Emma and Molly sleep.
"Ramsey?" A little whisper of a voice.
"Good morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?"
"Oh yes. Mama's all snuggled in behind me. This is nice, but I have to go to the bathroom."
He heard Molly giggle.
He saw Molly kissing Emma's neck, telling her they'd both go and then they'd get her a bowl of cereal, with bananas, none of those disgusting peaches.
He went back to bed and pulled the covers to his chin. Louey Santera had beaten her. He didn't blame Mason Lord one bit for taking the bastard down. He'd have taken him down himself. He wondered, as he got up to go to the bathroom himself, if Molly had loved her husband before that.
12
EMMA WAS JUMPING out of her skin she was so excited. She started playing the two-octave piano as soon as she saw it, Ramsey standing just behind her, so surprised he couldn't speak.
She was playing a Mozart Sonata that had been the title song to an old film called Elvira Madigan.
All the salespeople in the toy store were beginning to gather around along with children and their parents.
No one was saying anything, just watching Emma play on that little excuse for a piano and listening to the incredible music she was making.
He looked over at Molly. He could see that she was humming to herself along with Emma's playing. She looked as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
He bought the piano. The saleswoman said, "It's a pity she can't have a regular piano. She's quite talented. How long has she been playing?"
Molly answered. "Since she was just three. We're vacationing here and forgot to bring her portable piano. We'll make do nicely with this one."
"Amazing," the saleswoman said. "Just amazing. You've got a lovely, talented little girl."
Ramsey nodded. "Yes, she is amazing."
He felt Emma's hand slip into his. He hugged her against his leg, which was feeling nearly back to normal again. He was down to about four aspirin a day. He wondered if Emma remembered her nightmare. He wanted to ask her about it but thought better of it.
No, they needed to talk to a professional. He realized he could call and get a reference.
He said low to Molly when he opened the car door, "Do you think Emma's doing okay?"
"I don't know. I haven't asked her. After last night, I'm more afraid than before."
"I could probably find out the name of a local shrink, one who deals only with children. What do you think?"
She chewed on that so hard he could practically see her thinking. Finally, she shook her head. "We don't dare take a chance. I think that for the time being we should just keep her close and let her know she's safe."
But she knew Emma wasn't safe from those terrifying dreams. Molly forced a frown because she wanted to cry.
He nodded, still uncertain. He looked into the backseat of the Toyota. Emma was holding the big box with her piano inside really close. Her eyes were closed. What was she thinking? Or was she just playing music in her mind? He prayed it was music there and nothing else, at least for the time being.
He noticed the Honda Civic a half mile from the shopping center. There weren't many cars on 89, the only road to Lake Tahoe from Truckee. It was another seven miles, give or take a mile, to Alpine Meadows Road, their turnoff. He didn't say anything, just kept checking every couple of minutes in the rearview mirror.
Finally, when he was certain they were being followed, he said quietly, "Molly, look back and see if you can get the license plate number on the Civic two cars behind us. It's fairly new and gray. Be as discreet as you can. We don't want them to notice us looking."
She didn't even change expression, but he saw the panic in her eyes, followed by a hard coldness, the look she'd given him when she'd burst into the cabin that first morning.
She looked back at Emma. She was staring out the window, her piano box still hugged to her chest. She didn't appear to have overheard them.
They were nearly to their turnoff when she could finally make out the license. "It's F A R B three-three-three. That's too easy. Are you sure they're following us? It's a ridiculous plate."
"No. But I'm not about to take any chances. You got your gun?"
"Oh yes. What do you want to do?"
"Let's turn and see what they do. It's two guys, right?"
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