by B. J Daniels
WHEN FRANK CALLED, the news no longer came as a shock. “Maggie is Jenna’s daughter,” Frank said. “That’s the connection, along with the brown van. Also, I talked to Clark Terwilliger’s sister Dana again, hoping she might know of a place he would take them.”
Flint had been hit by so much since that phone call from Maggie saying she was moving in. “Did she come up with anything?”
“Not yet. But we’ll keep trying. We’re checking out some places around here,” Frank said.
“Thank you.” He disconnected and looked to Mark. “We have to find Terwilliger.”
“We haven’t gotten a hit on his brown van even though we have the plate number now,” Mark said. “He’s holding them somewhere. Otherwise, he would have surfaced by now.”
Or they were both dead and Terwilliger had dumped the van, gotten another ride and was on the move far from there.
“He’s gone to a lot of trouble to find Jenna—and their daughter,” the undersheriff said, clearly trying to assure him. “He wouldn’t do that just to kill them.”
Flint raked a hand through his hair. “I hope you’re right. At some point, they are going to become more trouble than they’re worth, though.”
“At least now we know the connection. You had no idea?”
“None,” the sheriff said. “Maggie couldn’t have known. When Jenna went missing, she would have said something. She would have shown more concern.”
“I guess we won’t know until we find them. Jenna disappeared before Maggie was taken. Where around here could he hide them and himself?”
* * *
MAGGIE LET CLARK take her back into the bedroom and help her into her cage. She’d thought about trying to get away, but he was too big and strong for her. Even if she could escape him, there was Jenna. But the biggest reason for not trying anything was the strong feeling that he was expecting it.
She’d seen the way he’d slapped Jenna. He liked to hurt people and Jenna was afraid he wanted to hurt the daughter he’d said he’d wanted so badly.
That thought sent a dagger to her heart. She told herself that Jenna couldn’t be her mother because that would mean that Clark was her father. She shuddered at the thought, since from what Jenna had tried not to say outright, Maggie knew that Clark had forced himself on her.
But it answered a lot of her questions growing up. That feeling of being flawed. Of people talking behind her back. They knew about Jenna’s pregnancy, about the rape. They knew that Clark’s blood ran through her veins.
The thought made her shudder again as he locked her in and left, closing the door behind him. She listened, hoping he didn’t hurt Jenna any more than he already had. But she didn’t hear anything. No raised voices. No cries. No sound for a long time until she heard a door slam. Shortly after that, the lights went out and whatever made that humming sound went out, as well. A generator?
Exhausted and still hungry, she lay down on the bed, curling into a fetal position, feeling like a child again. She’d never felt loved until Flint. That thought brought the tears she’d managed to hold back during dinner.
And now she might never see him again.
It tore her heart out.
When Clark didn’t return at the sound of her crying, she let it all out. Sobbing for what might have been. Sobbing out her fear and her regrets. Crying mostly for the childhood she could have had—but didn’t. Life could be so unfair. She’d always just pulled up her bootstraps, determined not to let it get her down. But this?
Finally, she couldn’t cry anymore. She sat up sniffling. That was when she heard it. A scratching sound, then a voice.
“Maggie? Can you hear me?”
She turned to look at the vent near the floor next to her bed. The memory of hearing someone else crying rushed back at her. She wiped her eyes and lay down on the bed so she was closer to the vent. “I can hear you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Maggie was too choked up to answer for a moment, her emotions all over the place. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said finally.
“I was...ashamed. And you were doing so well at the salon. I was so proud of you.”
She had to swallow the lump in her throat. She’d never heard those words from the woman who’d raised her. Now she realized that the woman she’d thought was her aunt had always looked at her sideways as if waiting for her to turn out like her father.
“Do you know where we are?” Maggie asked.
“No. I was out most of the drive.”
“What are we going to do?” Her voice broke.
“I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”
“Anything. Just tell me what to do.”
“Shh,” Jenna whispered. “He’s coming back.”
* * *
MARK HAD GONE home this morning to change clothes when he got the call that a letter with no return address, no stamp, had apparently been left for him. He’d been wondering when he was going to hear from the kidnapper again.
He grabbed a quick bite, since he’d pretty much been living at the sheriff’s department and hadn’t been home in days.
As he ate standing up in the kitchen, he thought about Flint and Maggie. He’d been so happy when he’d realized the sheriff had fallen in love. Everyone in town knew about the sheriff’s first marriage and the trouble he’d had with Celeste since then. Mark had thought that Flint was finally going to get a chance for happiness.
Being a confirmed bachelor himself, he had wondered how love would change Flint. Now he knew. Love had definitely taken the starch out of the man. Having Maggie abducted had left Flint bereft. He tried to imagine loving a woman with that kind of intensity and couldn’t. Maybe it was just as people said, that he hadn’t met the right woman yet.
He scoffed at that as he finished his sandwich, anxious to get back to the office and open the letter that had been left for him. As he drove back to work, he hoped the letter writer and the kidnapper were one and the same and that Flint Cahill got the happy ending he so deserved.
Unfortunately, he’d been in law enforcement long enough to know that happy endings often only happened in fairy tales.
His office called again. Deputy Harper Cole needed to see him immediately. He swore and said he was on his way.
At his office, he carefully opened the letter and read the contents before turning it over to one of the lab techs to check for fingerprints. If these were coming from Clark Terwilliger, then they might be able to find some of his DNA. And since his DNA was available because of all his run-ins with the law...
But all of that took time.
He reread the copy of the note he’d made, thankful to see that a drop site and date and time had been included. Tonight he would find out who was behind the ransom demand.
Mark called Flint and caught him before he left his brother and sister’s saloon. “I’m going to need some money—not all of the fifty-thousand-dollar demand. Just enough to catch a kidnapper.”
“Where is the drop?” Flint asked.
“Sorry. I can’t let you in on this.”
“When?” Flint asked.
“Tonight. So one way or another, it will be over soon.”
“If it’s him and he’s arrested, then what happens to Maggie and Jenna if he refuses to tell where they are?”
“Don’t buy trouble. This could be what we need to find them.”
“Or not.”
Mark could hear the pain in his friend’s voice. “At least now we’re pretty sure who has Maggie and why. We’re going to find them. You have to keep believing that.”
“I’m trying, but as the days go by...”
“I know. Maybe you could have one of your brothers bring the money by. Stay away, okay? I’ll call you later.”
*
* *
FLINT COULDN’T STAND to sit around and wait for the call. It was still early in the day. His brothers had promised to get the money to Mark. He couldn’t bear simply killing the hours until the ransom drop. He’d done too much waiting. He had to look for Maggie. If Clark was the kidnapper, then he would have to leave Maggie and Jenna to come pick up the money. It would be the perfect time to get them out while he was gone.
But he had no idea where Clark might be holding them. The winter storm had dumped over a foot and a half of snow. Many of the roads were impassable, several closed to through traffic.
“Maybe that’s why Clark’s van hasn’t been seen,” he said to himself as he left the saloon and climbed into his pickup. “Maybe he can’t get out. Which means he can’t get out for supplies, either.” But how could he pick up the ransom money if he was the one who’d sent the kidnapping demand?
He tried not to think about that as he looked to the mountains. The simplest explanation was that Clark had them in a house somewhere. He could have rented one. But that would have taken some planning in advance. Also, it would leave a paper trail.
He tried to think like a man determined to kidnap his daughter and the woman he professed to love. Once Clark knew where Jenna was, it was just a matter of abducting her and taking her to wherever he planned to keep the both of them. Flint reminded himself that he was assuming Clark would have wanted to keep them both alive. At least for a while.
Once Clark had Jenna, he would want to put her under lock and key as quickly as possible so he could go to Gilt Edge and get Maggie.
His heart began to pound a little faster. He wouldn’t drive Jenna all the way back to Gilt Edge. Too much of a chance someone might see her bound in the back of his van, especially if she was conscious. No, he would want a place close to Sheridan, where Jenna had been staying with Kurt Reiner.
All this time, Flint had been looking around Gilt Edge. If he was right, Maggie and Jenna were being held closer to Sheridan. He told himself that he should wait until he heard from Mark tonight, but he would go crazy waiting for the call.
He swung by the ranch and threw some clothes and supplies into a duffel bag, and then, taking his rifle and several small firearms, he headed for the door.
“I hate to ask,” his brother Cyrus said when he saw him come out the door with the rifle.
“I’m going looking for Maggie.”
Hawk came up from the barn just then. “We should go with you.”
“No,” Flint said. “I appreciate it. But it’s too dangerous. I can’t involve you. It’s enough that you’ve put the ranch up to raise the ransom. Anyway, you need to stay here and take the money to Mark.”
They both started to argue.
“I need you both here to make sure that the rest of the family is safe,” he said. “Also to get me out of jail if I call since I have no authority to be doing what I’m about to do.”
Cyrus laughed. “Anyone seen my by-the-book brother Flint?” he joked. “You know, the one who’s arrested our father how many times? I don’t know about you, Hawk, but I like this new Flint Cahill. Also, I have to admit, there is something about seeing him behind bars that has its appeal.”
Hawk shook his head at his brother as if this wasn’t the time for humor. “Call if you need help. You don’t always have to do things alone.”
Flint placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I know. I’ll call. Mark said you were bringing him the ransom money? Thanks again.”
He brushed past them, wading through the deep snow to his pickup. It was a six-hour drive to Sheridan and he had no idea where to look when he got there. He just had a feeling in his gut that told him he was on the right track and that he’d know what he was looking for when he saw it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HARP PULLED OUT his phone with his left hand and fumbled with it until he heard it ringing. He’d taken the undersheriff’s advice and stayed away from Vicki but he was tired of staying alone in a motel room. It was time to go home. If he still had a home to go to.
“Hello?” Vicki answered in her usual tentative, quiet way.
Today it annoyed the hell out of him. “It’s me,” he said as if she didn’t know that. Silence. “So what was that about the other night?”
“We need to talk.”
“Apparently so. I thought you wanted to get married, give this baby a name. I thought...” Oh no, she wasn’t crying again, was she? “Look, I’ll come home if you aren’t going to lose it again.”
“I won’t,” she said and sniffled.
“Okay, I’m on my way.” As he hung up, he was having his doubts. Did he really want to marry this woman? Did he really want to get married at all? He thought about his job. He’d done good with Gary Long, even if he had been reprimanded for the way he’d gone about it. He could be sheriff. He could be anything he wanted.
But he’d like a woman waiting for him at home who appreciated him. Not one he’d have to worry about when he walked in the door. He questioned if Vicki was stable and what that would mean for their kid.
He thought about the things that drove him crazy about her. He’d never known what a clean freak she was until on his day off he’d had to sit there watching her scrub. He told himself it must have something to do with those hormones she was talking about because when she wasn’t cleaning she was crying. Before that, the house was a total disaster and she was throwing up. Was there no happy medium with that woman?
Either way, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take as he parked out front of the apartment, took a deep breath and climbed out of his truck.
* * *
VICKI DRIED HER eyes as she heard Harp’s heavy tread on the stairs. She promised herself she wouldn’t lose control again as she glanced toward the ruined bathroom door. Listening, she heard him turn his key in the lock. The door opened and the first thing she saw was his haggard face. Then her gaze went to the cast on his hand.
She leaped up and went to him. “Is it broken?”
He nodded. “Since I can’t shoot a gun, Mark put me on leave.” He tossed his hat on the coffee table as he moved past her into the apartment.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans. “It’s all my fault.”
He turned to look at her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to agree. “No, I was the one who lost it. Vicki, what happened? I was so excited about the ring and asking you to marry me.”
“I was...overwhelmed. It was what I’d wanted for so long, but when it actually happened...” She could feel his confused gaze on her. Tell him the truth. She’d only made things worse the other night. “It’s the hormones,” she heard herself say. “I’m not myself.”
He stepped to her and took her left hand in his. The too-large ring had slid around her finger. He straightened it so the diamond was up. “We’ll get it sized,” he said. “I got the smallest size they had. But it will be all right.” He met her gaze. “We’re going to be a family, you and me and the baby.”
She nodded, unable to speak around the huge lump in her throat. Tell him the truth.
“We should set a date,” he said. “You know, to get married. We’ll keep it small because I’ve heard weddings are real expensive. But you should get a nice dress. Maybe not white,” he said with a laugh and quickly sobered. “Unless you want white because you can have whatever you want.” He drew her into a hug.
She couldn’t breathe. Her tongue seemed rooted to the top of her mouth.
“I love you, Vicki, as nuts as you make me.”
* * *
THE WIND WHIRLED the freshly fallen snow, obliterating everything in front of the pickup. Flint gripped the wheel, swearing silently as he tried to see the highway. He’d been driving too fast, feeling an urgency born of knowing now who he believed had Maggie. Clark Terwil
liger was a criminal with a rap sheet as long as Flint’s arm, not to mention the man was apparently out for revenge.
He caught glimpses of the highway through what he called “snow snakes” as the wind blew the snow across the pavement in hypnotizing stripes. Speeding up, he glanced at his navigation system. He was still some miles from Sheridan, but he wanted to take the back road in, starting with a place called Decker, Montana.
The exit came up fast. He hit his brakes, skidding a little on the icy road, but getting the pickup back into control as he turned off. The snow had frozen to the pavement, making it more slick than it looked.
Now that he was off the interstate and driving along the Tongue River, the wind wasn’t quite as bad. The narrow road was snow covered and icy, and he drove slowly so he could look for whatever it was he thought he’d know when he found it. An old barn with tracks into it? An abandoned house? Any place out here away from everything where a man could hold two women and not be heard or seen, for that matter.
From the snow on this road, it was clear that it got little use. But he reminded himself that there could be a dozen roads like it around Sheridan. Except this one was still in Montana. For a man like Terwilliger, who’d spent most of his adult life behind bars, he would know that taking Maggie across state lines would be a federal offense. Not that it might make a difference to him at this point.
Flint saw one old building after another, but no tracks in the snow indicating that anyone had been in or out of the property since winter had begun. He reminded himself that Terwilliger hadn’t been on the move in the van or he would have been spotted. But out here in the boonies, he doubted anyone even knew he was wanted by the law.
The man would only get caught if he went into town. It was afternoon and he would be losing light soon. Flint was thinking he was wrong about Terwilliger staying in Montana when he saw a building ahead through the blowing snow. The old roadhouse looked as if it had long since been closed. Most of the windows, as well as an old loading-dock entry at basement level, had been boarded up.
He slowed, seeing what appeared to be an old two-car garage in the back. His heart began to pound even before he saw the vehicle tracks through the snow into the out-of-the-way property. It was all he could do not to go racing in, guns blazing. As he drove by, he noticed the tracks in front of the garage where someone had been using it. To hide a brown van?
