by Mallory Kane
He stared at her. “How long has it been?”
She looked at the face of the phone. “Thirty hours.”
He took the next right.
“Where are you taking us?”
“Back to the hotel.”
“But, Johnny—”
“They already followed you there. They’d think we’d be fools to go back.”
Paige looked at his profile. “Wouldn’t we?”
His mouth tightened and his jaw flexed, knocking off a little shower of mud flakes. “I hope not.”
JAY PULLED THE CAR into the alley behind the hotel. They were almost out of gas, thanks to the extra load of mud the car was carrying.
He used a few handfuls of the sticky stuff to cover bullet holes and to finish obscuring the license plate. Standing back, he looked at it critically. Would layers of mud be less noticeable than bullet holes?
The casement window to his apartment was smashed. As they climbed in avoiding the glass, the evidence of struggle was obvious, as was evidence that their pursuers had spent a few minutes searching the room. The mattress and bedclothes were on the floor, and his sketches were torn and scattered.
Except for the drawings, there was nothing here that meant anything to him, but the little room had been the closest thing to home he remembered.
Paige picked up a torn sketch. “Johnny, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. He was, too. Looking at the chaos, he wondered briefly if he’d have been better off never putting the drawing out there. He shook off that notion.
Last night had told him one thing. There might be things in his past that he didn’t want to face. Things so awful he couldn’t imagine them.
But he was tired of being alone.
He had no memory of anyone depending on him. No purpose that gave meaning to his life. But then Paige had knocked on his door, with her trusting eyes and her desperate plea. She’d given him more in these last few hours than he could remember ever having.
She was the key to his past, and maybe, the doorway to his future.
She stood in the middle of the chaos that had been his room, holding his torn drawings, her expression a mixture of concern and expectation. She was depending on him. God help him—she believed in him.
His reaction was frightening and new. He wanted to be dependable. He hoped he was the kind of man who could be. He frowned and his skin tightened and itched where the mud had dried. They needed to get going.
“You have the gun, right?” he asked.
She offered it to him, holding it delicately by its handle. He took it and quickly and efficiently cleaned it, using the corner of the sheet from his bed. Then he held it out to her.
“You hang on to this while I clean up.”
“I don’t—”
Jay put the gun into her small hand and positioned it correctly. “This is the safety. Pushing it this direction makes it possible to fire the gun. Then all you do is pull the trigger.”
Her hand tensed under his. “I don’t want it,” she said.
He tightened his grip reassuringly. “Listen to me, Paige, the window is broken, the door is smashed, and I need to get this mud off me and change clothes. Otherwise, wherever we go I’ll be a little conspicuous.”
He let go of her hand. “Now, I’ll be done in less than two minutes. You put that gun in your pocket. No, put the safety on first. And if you hear anything, you take the safety off, point the gun, and yell for me, okay? You have to do this. It’s your life, and your—our daughter’s.”
She paled, but nodded.
“Good.” He let his breath out in a sigh. There was no bathroom, just the door to the toilet on one side of the room and a sink and a shower on the other.
He stood at the sink and started shedding his clothes. When he looked into the mirror, the reflection he saw resembled some bizarre harlequin, with half his body and face covered in mud.
As he peeled off his T-shirt and jeans and dropped his boxers, he was acutely conscious of the woman behind him.
He glanced in the mirror and caught her gaze before she looked away. To his dismay, his body stirred at the thought of her eyes on him.
He clenched his jaw and stepped into the shower.
As good as the hot water felt, he didn’t waste any time. Paige was out there alone. He soaped up quickly and rinsed the mud down the drain, then pushed the curtain aside and stepped out, reaching for a towel.
Paige stood like a soldier, stiff and alert, directly opposite the shower. When Jay stepped out, her eyes went wide and she blushed.
“Sorry,” he said, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his middle, trying to ignore the erotic sensation of her eyes on him. “No time or space for modesty.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay.” She sounded choked, but she lifted her gaze to his and for a brief moment something passed between them. Something that felt familiar to Jay.
Something like the memory of love.
Jay searched her face, basking in the idea that she knew him, knew his body. He held on desperately to the sense that he’d seen that look of hunger on her face before.
But she blinked and dropped her gaze, and the sense of déjà vu slipped away.
As he pulled out underwear, jeans and a white button shirt, Paige spoke behind him. “What happened to your hip?”
He tucked in his shirt and buttoned his jeans. Then he pulled on socks and running shoes. That pretty much took care of his wardrobe, he thought wryly.
He grabbed a light windbreaker to hide the gun tucked in his belt.
“I don’t know,” he said in answer to her question. “The doc at the clinic said it looked like a surgical scar. He offered to x-ray it, but I didn’t bother.”
He turned to look at her. “Did I not have that scar before?”
Paige had started picking up his sketches, but at his words, she looked up, then straightened. Her cheeks turned pink.
“No.” Her eyes flickered downward. “No scar.”
She bent down to pick up another drawing.
“Leave those. Let’s go.”
“No, I want them.”
Now that he was cleaned up and dressed, Jay was anxious to check on Old Mose and get away from this place where their pursuers had found him.
“Come on.” He led her out through the smashed door and down the hall to the front of the old hotel. He pushed open the front door, and waves of relief washed over him as he saw Old Mose sitting in his usual spot.
“Mose!” he rasped, his throat tight and his eyes burning. Mose had been one of only a few people he’d felt he could trust.
The relief that Old Mose was unharmed was overwhelming.
“Well, well. Jay. I see your pretty vision found you.” Mose pulled a greasy paper bag from his pocket and drank from the bottle it hid. “Have some?”
Jay shook his head, smiling at the familiar gesture. Every time he saw Mose, the old man offered him a drink, and every time Jay declined. “Seen anybody suspicious, Mose?”
Mose laughed, then coughed. “I see suspicious every day, son. But if you’re talking ’bout those two fellows who ransacked your room, I ain’t seen them since they hightailed it outta here all bloody and bruised. Your doing?”
Jay nodded. “You didn’t talk to them, did you?”
“Naw. I mostly hid.”
Laughter bubbled up inside Jay’s chest. He shook his head. “Mose, you are something. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. “Go to the clinic today. They have better medicine than the liquor store does.”
“I hear you, son,” Mose agreed, nodding as he took the money. “I just might do that. You two on your way then?”
Jay nodded as he put his hand on the small of Paige’s back and guided her down the steps. “If anyone comes around asking questions…”
“Old Mose don’t know nothing. Old Mose just a drunk.” The old man winked at him.
“Thanks, Mose.”
Jay glanced around, then ushered Paige around
the corner.
“That house in the swamp belongs to Old Mose?”
“Yeah,” Johnny said as he guided Paige away from the alley where the car was parked.
“We’re not taking the car?”
“Too risky. Those guys might recognize it.”
He led them toward a streetcar stop.
“Where are we going?”
“You tell me. I want to see your apartment.”
Chapter Five
Paige paused at the door of her apartment, overwhelmed by the remembered horror of finding Katie gone. As she pushed the key into the lock, her eyes lit on a little handprint beside the doorknob.
She reached out and placed her fingers on the smudged outline of her daughter’s hand, her heart contracting in worry and grief.
Johnny squeezed her shoulder, but not even the comforting warmth of his hand could quell the dread with which she opened the door. She stepped reluctantly into the living room, her stomach in knots.
The first thing she saw was the phone with its torn, naked wires lying in the middle of the floor. In the neat, orderly room it was the only sign that anything was out of the ordinary.
But nothing would ever be ordinary again. They’d taken her child.
Johnny’s hand slid down her arm to clasp her hand.
She stared at the phone for a moment, then walked past it. “Katie’s—” Her voice echoed in the empty apartment.
A hole had been carved out of her heart when her mother died. Then when Johnny went away it had gaped even larger. But nothing she had ever experienced compared with the empty place inside her now. It seemed bigger than she was.
Without Katie, there would be nothing left of her.
Johnny’s fingers tightened reassuringly. “Show me Katie’s room.”
His calm, clear voice was like a beacon in a dark world. She focused on it, drawing strength from his presence. She had to stay strong for Katie.
She did her best to answer him with the same calmness. “It’s in here,” she said, stiffening her back as she walked down the hall and entered her daughter’s room.
Katie’s pink-and-purple comforter was in a heap on the floor where she’d thrown it, and her favorite pillow still had that tiny indentation where her precious head had lain.
“Did you pull the sheets and bedspread off the bed?”
She nodded, her gaze riveted on the pillow. “The cell phone kept ringing and I couldn’t find it.” Her voice caught.
“It was in here?”
“On her bed. Right there, on the pillow, where…” Paige couldn’t make the words come out. She couldn’t even get breath. Her child was gone, kidnapped. Held captive God knew where.
The void inside her throbbed.
“I can’t stand this,” she whispered, her palm pressing on her chest. “I can’t do it any more. What if they hurt her?”
“Hey,” Johnny said, moving to place his hands gently on her upper arms and rubbing reassuringly. “Look at me. We will find her. You’ve done everything they’ve asked you to do, haven’t you?”
She nodded, her eyes dry and burning, her throat aching with unshed tears. “What if it’s not enough?”
The cell phone rang.
Paige jumped. She fumbled in her jacket pocket for the phone and the tape recorder. Johnny took the tape recorder from her and pressed the record button. Hands shaking, she answered the phone, holding it at an angle from her ear, near the recorder.
“Katie?” she said, her voice still raspy with emotion.
“Hello, Paige,” the disguised voice said. “I have someone who wants to talk to you.”
Paige gasped and squeezed the phone so tightly her hands ached.
“Mommy?”
Relief almost buckled her knees to hear that sweet familiar voice.
“Hi, sweetie.” Katie never called her Mommy any more. It was Mom or Mother these days. She must be so scared.
“Are you okay? Are they feeding you?” She held her breath, expecting to have the phone yanked away from her child any moment, cherishing every breath, every word that kept her connected for one more second to her precious daughter.
“They brought me pizza, but it was cold.”
A shaky laugh erupted painfully from Paige’s chest. Katie must be okay. She was complaining about cold pizza.
“Are you warm—”
“Mommy, do you know where my daddy is?”
Paige’s heart slammed into her chest wall. “Katie, honey, what do you mean? What have they told you, sweetie?”
“Mommy, please. I don’t like it here. Come and get—”
Her scared little voice stopped abruptly.
“Katie!”
“Hello, Paige. It’s so hard to control emotional little girls, isn’t it?”
“I swear to you if you hurt one hair on my child’s head, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Laughter crackled like static in her ear. Paige wished she could tell if it was a man or a woman. “You’re not in a position to make threats. You’re running out of time. Your phone’s battery is probably half run-down already.”
“Where do you want me to go? Give me a time. Give me a place and I’ll be there. You’re the one delaying.”
“All the better to see you squirm, Paige.” The voice went brittle with anger. “You are under my control and you will do as I say. Make no mistake about it. You so much as nod at a policeman, and you will never see your child again.”
“I’ve given you my word. I won’t tell anyone. Just tell me where to be and when. I’ll be there.”
The phone went dead.
Paige stared at the quiet phone, then raised her gaze to Johnny’s. He was watching her, his face grave, his brow wrinkled in concern.
“She called me Mommy. She never does that anymore. She’s so scared.”
Johnny’s eyes glinted with sadness. “I know. We’ll find her. I promise.”
He brushed the corner of her lip with his thumb, then wrapped his hand around her nape and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His warm fingers, his gentle kiss, made her want to believe in his promise.
She met his gaze and saw in it a reflection of the boy she had known, and remembered his earnest vow that he would never leave her.
She’d believed his promises before.
She pulled away from his touch, anger burning through her grief. “Don’t patronize me. You can’t promise me we’ll find her. You can’t promise me anything.”
She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You don’t even remember who you are!”
He grasped her arms. “Paige, calm down. If we’re going to stand a chance of finding her, we’ve got to work together.”
She jerked against his grip again, but he held firm, the determination in his face reminding her that he was no longer the boy who had left her.
Everything about him exuded strength and dependability. His strength called to her, as did his calm words.
He was right. She had to believe in him. She had no other choice.
She nodded, picking up Katie’s pillow, hugging it to her, breathing in the faint scent of bubblegum shampoo.
Johnny looked at the tape recorder in his hand.
He rewound the tape, then listened. Paige sat stiffly as her pleading and Katie’s scared little voice reverberated in the room.
When the caller’s voice came on, Johnny’s grip tightened on the recorder and he frowned. He stopped the tape, then played it back again, louder. Then he turned the volume down and held it close to his ear, his eyes closed.
His face drained of color, his lips were compressed into a thin line.
“Listen to this,” he said, rewinding it again. “Can you tell what those sounds in the background are?”
He hit Play.
Paige listened, shaking her head. “There’s a creaking noise, and something else.”
“A train,” he said, his voice strained.
She looked up at him. “A train?” Her heart leapt in hope. “Do you kn
ow where they are?”
He shook his head, a bewildered frown marring his features. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? Then what do we do? We can’t just wait around for them to call.”
Johnny wiped his face and directed his full attention back to her. “We won’t. I want you to talk me through the evening Katie was kidnapped. I need to understand everything that happened. You went to a party. When did you get there? What time did you leave? Did anything odd happen?”
His steady, even tone, and his logical words buoyed her spirits a bit. Still holding on to Katie’s pillow, she told him about the charity benefit, describing everything she could remember about the evening.
“It was one of Sally’s classic events. An art auction to benefit a home for pregnant teens.”
“And when you left here everything was fine?”
Paige’s breath caught. She nodded. “Katie wasn’t happy with me for going. It was pizza night. And she was supposed to start her second year of swimming lessons the next day.”
“How long did you stay?”
Johnny was moving around the room, his keen gaze roaming over every square inch. He picked up a pink stuffed bear off the floor, holding it for a brief moment before setting it on the bed.
She grabbed the bear. “Too long. I was about to leave around eleven-thirty, when Sally found me and pulled me into one of her famous little dramas. She unveiled your drawing to me in front of all the guests.”
Johnny studied the bookcase where Katie’s favorite books and videos were stacked. He picked up the Mardi Gras mask Katie had made herself from papiér-mâché and painted in garish yellow and red and chartreuse. He moved to the open closet door, his hand sliding across Katie’s clothes.
Watching him touch her daughter’s things sent conflicting feelings through Paige. A part of her wanted to push his hand away from her child’s clothes. But she couldn’t ignore the look of longing on his face and the tenderness with which his fingers paused on Katie’s blue denim jumper.
They were his daughter’s things too.
“What are you looking for?”
His head angled toward her, but his eyes lingered for a moment on the little dress.
