Carly Bishop - No Baby But Mine

by No Baby But Mine(Lit)

  "Does J.D. know?"

  Ann shook her head, color staining her cheeks.

  "No one knows, Kirsten.

  You're the first person I've ever breathed a word of it to. " A bewildered expression flitted over her finely honed features.

  "I

  thought I was done dealing with the loss of it. It's been fifteen years. I'm not sure J. D. would understand. " She breathed deeply, composing herself.

  "Anyway, I just wanted you to know I share your feelings." She angled her head toward the men who were sitting in a tight little knot strategizing.

  "Actually, they sent me back here to get you so Garrett can fill you in on what's been decided in the last hour or so."

  Kirsten took her hand and squeezed it.

  "Thank you. Your confiding in me means a lot."

  Ann nodded.

  "You're welcome. But we'd better head up there now."

  Matt moved out of his seat, which faced Garrett's, when she came forward with Ann. Garrett went right into it.

  "By the time we get to Jackson, we'll have six hours before Loehman's deadline. Word is that the roads are passable in and around Jackson now. We don't know what kind of place he's going to dictate for the han doff, or even if Christo will be there. Best guess is that he won't be. They'll hold him at some other location.

  "Our goal is to find Christo and get him back before the time is up, but whether we have him back or not, we'll go through with handing over the tapes."

  Reading between the lines, Kirsten nodded. It was unlikely that they would find Christo far enough in advance to make any real difference, and God only knew what hell Loehman would unleash if the tapes were not handed over to him. She'd heard them talking over the possibility of paging Garrett the minute they retrieved Christo, assuming it could be done in advance, but the point was really academic. They would have to go through with the han doff.

  "Matt's been in contact with a local--a retired CIA analyst who was a satellite and telecommunications guru," Garrett said.

  "He's working on breaking into Loehman's communications loop. Matt will join him and work on pinpointing their locations" -- "And where Christo is being held?" Kirsten asked.

  "Yes." He looked at her, a warning to keep her expectations in line.

  He took her hands.

  "It's a long shot, but we're playing it. If we get a break, you and J.D. will go after Christo."

  She swallowed hard.

  "I thought you would want" -- "To be the one to rescue Christo?"

  Exhaustion was taking a steep toll on her emotions. All she could do was to nod.

  "Loehman expects me to hand over the tapes to him personally. I don't want to hand him any excuse to call off returning Christo." His look, though, told her he would have sacrificed almost anything to be the one to rescue his son.

  "We have to do this smart."

  "I grew up in Colorado, Kirsten," J. D. offered, his voice low, gentle.

  "Telluride. Same kind of snow and terrain. That might give us an edge.

  Christo will need you. Vorees will ride shotgun with Garrett, make the han doff with Loehman. "

  She saw the logic in their choices.

  "What if we can't find Christo first?"

  A grimace tightened Garrett's mouth.

  "Loehman and I won't be parting company until I know Christo is back with you, and that you're both safe."

  they were met at the plane by Ross Vorees, who had arrived while they were taking off out of Seattle. He drove them to Sam and Ginny's place, explaining that he'd spent his time without any luck canvasing motels for anyone checking in with a child of Christo's size.

  Which, Kirsten thought, bundled into the back seat of the Suburban, didn't rule out motels because Christo was small enough to be carried in a large tote if that's what it took to keep him hidden from sight.

  Garrett was making the same point when Vorees crested the hill and Sam and Ginny's mountain cabin came into view with six hours and fifteen minutes left to them.

  Exchanging tearful hugs with Ginny at the door, Kirsten went inside and asked right away to go to Christo's room. She sank to the bed from which he'd been taken. Garrett examined the window with Sam where a hole had been cut in the glass large enough to reach a gloved hand through to unlock the window. Scuff marks on the freshly painted sill remained where the kidnapper had come in and taken Christo back out through the window.

  Matt sat on Christo's bed beside Kirsten, reading the dog a riot act.

  "Wag is no guard dog, but I can't believe he wasn't at least barking at the kidnappers."

  "He may have barked his head off, but Gin and I had him out front with us while we were hauling in firewood. Wag pretty much sat on the porch, doesn't like snow at all." Sam shook his head, his eyes watering.

  "I cannot believe this happened. I swear, Ginny and I" -Clapping Sam on the shoulder, Garrett cut him off.

  "No one could have predicted this, Sam, or guarded against it. There's no point in blaming yourselves. Let's just concentrate on finding where they've taken Christo."

  "That isn't going to be easy." Given something practical to do, Sam led the way downstairs to the dining room. He pulled a set of car keys out of his coat pocket and handed them to Matt, who was going off to work on the satellite surveillance with the retired CIA Spock.

  On the table were maps of every variety from USGS topographical maps to satellite photos of various magnifications.

  Sam pointed to the one in which every building within a hundred-mile radius of Jackson could be seen.

  J. D. grimaced.

  "A lot of rugged ground to cover."

  "You're right about that," Sam said.

  "Trouble is, with all this snow, the lay of the land is masked."

  "Where are we?" Kirsten asked. The only way she was going to get through this was to focus hard on the details.

  "Your house, I mean--on the map?"

  Sam stabbed a finger at a barely visible rooftop a half centimeter south of the town of Jackson.

  "Here. Right here. See the road?"

  She nodded.

  "They didn't use this road, though, did they?"

  Sam gritted his teeth.

  "If they did, Kirsten, the tracks were wiped out when the snowplows got through."

  "I thought you plowed the road."

  "I do--the five hundred yards closest to the house. That I know for sure hadn't been disturbed, which means they didn't get closer to the house than half a mile with any vehicle other than, possibly, a snowmobile."

  Garrett took a swallow of coffee.

  "It's dead silent out here, Sam.

  Wouldn't you have heard a snowmobile engine? "

  Sam shrugged.

  "It's quiet now, but the wind was blowing like hell. Howling around the house. I'm not sure we would have heard the engine of a 777."

  "With all this snow," J. D. put in, "I can tell you right now these guys would have had this kidnapping planned down to the smallest detail. Nothing left to chance. On foot, on skis partway, maybe a snowmobile on the far end. They probably would not have made a lot of progress. Supposing they haven't taken Christo out of the area, we're close."

  "If Loehman can be believed," Kirsten said, wanting badly to believe J. D. "s assessment.

  Garrett looked at her.

  "Loehman wants those tapes too much to play games. We have to go with it, Kirsten."

  She nodded.

  "How far is 'close," J. D. " in your estimation?"

  "In this kind of weather, over mountainous terrain, no more than ten or fifteen miles at the outside."

  "Well, that certainly narrows the search." Staring at the satellite photo, Garrett frowned.

  "It's a start, I guess."

  J. D. shrugged, sharing Garrett's frustration.

  "Not much of one," he answered.

  "But if they approached the rear of the house where Christo's window is, and went back the same way, the incline due north was working against a man on
snowshoes or cross-country skis."

  J. D. got deeply into a series of possible scenarios. Too tense and unfamiliar with the mountains or lingo to follow his explanations, Kirsten wandered into the kitchen. Ginny followed and poured her a cup of Earl Grey tea, but her cup rattled as she set in down on the saucer after only one sip.

  "Kirsten, what's going on?"

  She straightened. Nothing got by Ginny, ever had or ever would. One overlong look between them was sufficient to arrest her best friend's attention.

  "Garrett Weisz is Christo's father."

  Ginny blinked.

  "I don't think I heard you" -She gave a bittersweet smile.

  "Small world, isn't it?"

  "Small world?" Ginny asked, incredulous.

  "Kirsten, I don't believe you. Did you know who he was all along? All this time? Was he someone you knew from when you were on the task force? Is he married, is that why" -- "Ginny, no! It's nothing like that. I've never lied to you."

  "That's not exactly true."

  "What I mean is, nothing I finally told you was a lie. We were strangers to each other. Five years ago Garrett Weisz was in the military, winding up his last tour of duty in naval intelligence. He was based in Seattle, but I-He had nothing to do with the task force I was on."

  Her shoulders sinking, Ginny began to understand what an unbelievable fluke had occurred. Kirsten's past had come back at her with the force of a freight train, colliding head-on with the most poignant, irrelevant runaway train of fate.

  "Does he know?"

  She nodded.

  "But not until we knew Christo was missing. It just... it just happened that way." Ginny only knew about Christo's baby monitor and the se220 No Baby But Mine blowing like hell. Howling around the house. I'm not sure we would have heard the engine of a 777. "

  "With all this snow," J. D. put in, "I can tell you right now these guys would have had this kidnapping planned down to the smallest detail. Nothing left to chance. On foot, on skis partway, maybe a snowmobile on the far end. They probably would not have made a lot of progress. Supposing they haven't taken Christo out of the area, we're close."

  "If Loehman can be believed," Kirsten said, wanting badly to believe J. D. "s assessment.

  Garrett looked at her.

  "Loehman wants those tapes too much to play games. We have to go with it, Kirsten."

  She nodded.

  "How far is 'close," J. D. " in your estimation?"

  "In this kind of weather, over mountainous terrain, no more than ten or fifteen miles at the outside."

  "Well, that certainly narrows the search." Staring at the satellite photo, Garrett frowned.

  "It's a start, I guess."

  J. D. shrugged, sharing Garrett's frustration.

  "Not much of one," he answered.

  "But if they approached the rear of the house where Christo's window is, and went back the same way, the incline due north was working against a man on snowshoes or cross-country skis."

  J. D. got deeply into a series of possible scenarios. Too tense and unfamiliar with the mountains or lingo to follow his explanations, Kirsten wandered into the kitchen. Ginny followed and poured her a cup of Earl Grey tea, but her cup rattled as she set in down on the saucer after only one sip.

  "Kirsten, what's going on?"

  She straightened. Nothing got by Ginny, ever had or ever would. One overlong look between them was sufficient to arrest her best friend's attention.

  "Garrett Weisz is Christo's father."

  Ginny blinked.

  "I don't think I heard you" -She gave a bittersweet smile.

  "Small world, isn't it?"

  "Small world?" Ginny asked, incredulous.

  "Kirsten, I don't believe you. Did you know who he was all along? All this time? Was he someone you knew from when you were on the task force? Is he married, is that why" -- "Ginny, no! It's nothing like that. I've never lied to you."

  "That's not exactly true."

  "What I mean is, nothing I finally told you was a lie. We were strangers to each other. Five years ago Garrett Weisz was in the military, winding up his last tour of duty in naval intelligence. He was based in Seattle, but I--He had nothing to do with the task force I was on."

  Her shoulders sinking, Ginny began to understand what an unbelievable fluke had occurred. Kirsten's past had come back at her with the force of a freight train, colliding head-on with the most poignant, irrelevant runaway train of fate.

  "Does he know?"

  She nodded.

  "But not until we knew Christo was missing. It just... it just happened that way." Ginny only knew about Christo's baby monitor and the se222 No Baby But Mine quence of events after that, none of the emotion, the tension, or of Kirsten's fears.

  "I couldn't tell him that first day, Ginny, and then things just happened so fast, or he was gone or we were interrupted or" -- "Oh, God," she said again, the lines in her sweet, round face deepening.

  "I'm sorry. The last thing you need now is me harping at you. How is he... what has he said?"

  "Not much." Tears rushed into her eyes.

  "We have to find Christo first. That's the most important thing."

  "Of course it is." Ginny swiped at tears of her own, carrying the weight of guilt that would never leave her.

  "Kirs, I'm so sorry" -- "Ginny, don't do that, please," Kirsten cried.

  "Please. No matter where we took Christo, they would have known. John Grenallo knew where Garrett had taken Christo right from the start."

  "If anything happens to that child" -Ginny broke off.

  Kirsten straightened. She had no such inability. She would tear out Grenallo's heart if she got the chance, but she had to believe it wouldn't go that far. She finished her tea, set the cup and saucer in the sink and stood looking out the kitchen window at the expanse of wilderness meadow and the surrounding forest. The quality of light struck her, the flatness of it. The sun must be directly overhead now, but the cloud cover blunted its rays.

  Drawn by some instinct to examine the quality of light on the snow, she snatched up a coat of Ginny's from the pegs along the wall by the door, slipped into a pair of her friend's boots and let herself outside.

  A few seconds later, Ginny followed, bundled to the hilt, but Kirsten's attention was riveted on the endless blanket of snow and she trudged beyond the area Sam had shoveled through drifts of snow for a better vantage point.

  "Kirsten, wait. What are you doing?"

  Shading her eyes against the flat glare of light, she stood a moment staring at the field of snow broken only by the tracks of a coyote.

  "Do you have a pair of sunglasses?"

  "Goggles. Will that do?" Ginny tugged a pair out of her pocket with her mittened hand.

  Kirsten took the orange-tinted goggles and slipped the elastic band over her head, fitting the mask to her face as she retraced her steps through the snowbank. Her breaths came out in small clouds, and it was mind-boggling how the altitude and snow slowed her pace.

  "Kirsten... what is it?"

  She studied the area leading away from the ground below Christo's bedroom window.

  "I don't know if it's my imagination or what, Ginny.

  Come here and see if you see this, too. " She peeled off the goggles while her friend scrambled over the drifts.

  "Here. Put these on."

  Ginny put on the goggles.

  "Okay. Now what?"

  "Do you see depressions in the snow below Christo's room?"

  "Some. Don't you think that's just the way the snow drifted?"

  "Partly, but try letting your eyes follow the de e press ions leading away from the house. The light is so subtle now. I'm not sure you could see this at all in bright sunshine, but with the sun behind the clouds... Do you see what I mean?"

  Shaking her head, Ginny removed the tinted goggles.

  "I don't, but... are you thinking you could follow along, like a trail of bread crumbs or something?"

  "I don't know." Kirsten shook he
r head thoughtfully.

  "This light won't last. But if I could enhance the depressions with digital photos.

  Maybe. " Tears rose up, foiling her resolve, exposing her house-of cards emotions again.