* * *
Boone eyed Scout, knowing what he needed to say, but not liking it. He didn’t talk about Kendal much. Not to friends or family or even fellow members of HEART. He kept his daughter tucked away in a sacred place in his heart that no one was allowed to touch. It was tough, tougher than he’d ever have imagined that it could be, to have a child out in the world somewhere, to be constantly wondering if she was loved, cared for, safe. It ate at a person, and if Boone let himself, he could tumble down deep into depression at the thought of what he’d lost.
That was why he worked so hard, why he kept busy and focused. It was that or lose himself to grief.
“I do understand,” he said quietly, and she frowned, her eyes dark with fatigue, the bandage on her head slipping a little to reveal one of many staples that had closed the wound. The bullet had grazed her head, fractured her skull. A millimeter was all that had stood between her and death. If the gunman had adjusted his aim just that fraction of an inch, she wouldn’t have survived.
“I doubt it. You think you know. You’re trying to understand, but until your daughter is the one missing—”
“My daughter is missing,” he cut in. “She was taken from me four years ago, and I haven’t seen her since.”
The words were out, bitter and ugly, but a truth that he hoped would forge a bond between him and Scout. Without her trust, he’d be fighting an uphill battle to keep her safe while he searched for Lucy.
She looked as if she was trying to wrap her head around the words, figure out what they meant in the grand scheme of what was happening to her. “Who took her?” she finally asked. “A stranger? Someone you knew?”
“My wife. I was serving in Iraq, and she left with our daughter. She died of a drug overdose a year later. My daughter wasn’t with her.”
“Where—?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been all over the country trying to find her, but she’s still not home. All I can do is keep looking and pray she’s safe, pray she’s with someone who loves her and cares for her. That’s why I joined HEART. It’s why I’ve devoted my life to reuniting families. It’s the only reason I do what I do, Scout, because I do understand. I’ve lived it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, touching his arm. He felt it like the spring thaw after a harsh winter, the warmth seeping through him, the surprise of it making him look a little more deeply into her eyes.
Her hand dropped away, and she stood. Maybe she’d felt what he had, and maybe she was just as uncomfortable with it as he was.
“I didn’t tell you to make you sorry, Scout.” He stood, too, stretching a kink out of his lower back and walking to the front door. “I told you because I want you to know that I know what it’s like to want to do something even when there is absolutely nothing that can be done. I’ll get your purse. You stay in the house. Next time you need something, ask.”
He left it at that, walking outside and letting the crisp fall air fill his lungs, clear his head and chase away the memories that were never far from his mind.
EIGHT
Scout didn’t sleep. She couldn’t. Every time she drifted off, she heard Lucy crying and woke again. Just dreams. She knew that, but her heart jumped every time, her body demanding that she leap out of bed, run from the dream, from the house, from the horrible knowledge that her daughter was gone. By dawn, her eyes were gritty and hot, her body cold and achy. She wanted coffee. Black. She didn’t think it would do much to wake her up, but it might chase some of the ice from her veins.
She paced across the room, but didn’t open the door. She didn’t dare leave the room. She was too afraid she’d run into Boone again. The story he’d told her would have broken her heart if it hadn’t already been shattered. She’d wanted to tell him that, but he’d got her purse, handed it to her and escorted her back to the bedroom.
He’d said good-night, and she’d bitten her tongue to keep from asking a dozen questions about his wife, his daughter, the years that he’d spent searching. They were two people who had one terrible thing in common. It didn’t make her feel any better to know that someone else had lived through her nightmare, but it did help her understand why Boone was so determined to find Lucy.
Someone knocked on the door, and she hurried to open it, glad for the distraction.
Raina stood in the hallway, a stack of clothes and towels in her hand, her hair pulled back with a pretty blue headband. She wore scrubs and sturdy shoes, and somehow she still managed to look chic and stylish.
“I heard you moving around in here, so I thought I’d peek in before I left for work,” she said with a smile. “I brought you some towels and clean clothes.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
She laughed lightly and thrust the stack into Scout’s arms. “Please! Some clothes and towels aren’t putting me out any more than the tea I made you last night was. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Like I got run over by a train,” she responded honestly.
“I don’t doubt it. I want to change that bandage and take a look at the wound, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Actually, it is. You don’t want an infection to take hold. That can take a person down pretty quickly.” She pulled small scissors and gauze from one pocket of her scrubs and rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the other. “Go ahead and sit down. This will only take a minute. Then you can take a shower and freshen up. There’s a new shower cap in the bathroom. I put it on the counter near the sink. It should work to cover your head, but try not to submerse your head.” Just like she had the night before, she kept up a running commentary.
Scout gave in and sat, listening to Raina’s chatter as the old bandage was eased off her head.
“Hmm,” Raina said, dabbing at the skin with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.
“Hmm what?” Scout glanced in the mirror above the dresser. Did a double take. Sallow skinned with dark circles under her eyes, she had at least two dozen staples from midforehead to her temple. “Good grief! I look like Frankenstein’s monster!”
“Not quite.” Raina tossed the cotton ball into the trash can and soaked another one.
“Lucy would scream if she got a look at me now.”
“Your daughter is three, right?”
“She will be soon. Her birthday is right after Christmas. We were going to have so much fun putting up the Christmas tree and going to the live nativity.”
“You’ll still be able to do those things.”
“They won’t be the same if she’s not with me.”
Raina pressed gauze to Scout’s forehead, gently covering the wound. “They won’t be, but you’ll survive it. You’ll learn to get along without, and then when she comes home, you’ll be all that much happier to have her with you.”
“If she comes home.”
“Have a little faith, Scout,” she murmured.
“I have plenty of faith.”
“Then stop doubting what God can do.” She tossed dirty gauze into the trash can, put the rubbing alcohol and extra cotton balls back into her pocket. “I hate to clean wounds and run, but I need to get out of here. Work won’t wait. Samuel is still asleep. Hopefully he’ll stay that way for a while. If you want coffee, I already started a pot. There’s cream in the fridge and sugar in a bowl on the table.”
“Thanks,” Scout said.
“No problem. If you want some, you should probably get it now rather than later. All bets are off when the boys get back.”
“Boys?”
“Men,” she laughed. “Boone and Jackson took off about an hour ago.”
“I didn’t hear them.” And she’d been up, pacing the room and listening to the silence.
“They didn’t want you to. Boone said they had a meeting with the local police. He probably w
anted to weed through the information before giving it to you.”
“I’m not sure I like that.” As a matter of fact, she was sure she didn’t like it.
“It is what it is,” Raina said calmly. “You’re here. You might as well make the best of it. Get a shower. Drink some coffee. Have some breakfast. It could be a busy day today, and you want to be ready for it.”
“Of course I do,” Scout muttered.
When she saw Boone, she was going to tell him exactly how she felt about being left behind while he went to the police. It wasn’t Raina’s fault, though, and she didn’t want to take her frustration out on her. She tried to smile. “Thanks for the clothes and towels, and thanks for letting me stay here for the night.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Scout. I was happy to do it. Now, I really do have to get out of here. If you need anything, Stella is upstairs.”
She walked into the hall, stood right outside the room. “By the way, I tucked a phone charger in with the clothes and towels. Kind of felt like putting a handsaw in a cake and delivering it to prison, since I’m pretty sure Boone would rather you not have one.”
Another thing she didn’t like. “He doesn’t want me to use my phone?”
“He wants to keep you safe. Cutting you off from the world is the easiest way to do it.” She shrugged. “The way I see things, you’ll be more likely to stay put if you have some access to the things you want. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She bustled out of the room, and Scout grabbed the pile of clothes and towels, rifled through them until she found the charger. She plugged in her phone, took a quick shower and dressed in the borrowed jeans and sweater. The jeans were a little loose and a little long. The sweater hung to midthigh. She didn’t feel like herself in them. Or maybe she just didn’t feel like herself period.
Without Lucy, she didn’t know who she was.
Without her, she wasn’t sure what to do with her time, how to spend her morning, her afternoon, her evening.
She took the phone and the charger into the kitchen, plugged them in, poured a cup of coffee, went through the motions of a normal day even though nothing about it was normal. She didn’t usually take sugar with her coffee, but she scooped in a couple of teaspoonfuls. She hadn’t eaten in hours and didn’t think she could eat, but she needed energy for...
What?
Waiting?
Her phone rang, the sound so unexpected, she jumped.
It rang again, and she scrambled to lift it from the charger, fumbling to hit the right button and answer.
She thought it was Boone, calling to check up on her. “Where are you?” she demanded.
“Shut up and listen,” someone hissed, the words chilling Scout’s blood. “You want your daughter—you do exactly what I say. Hear me?”
“Yes,” she tried to say, but the word caught in her throat and came out as a breath of air. “Yes,” she repeated.
Footsteps pounded behind her and she thought someone had walked into the room, but she didn’t turn. She was afraid she’d drop the phone, break the connection, lose her one shot at getting Lucy back.
“Good. You have information I want. I have your kid. We’ll do an exchange. What I want for what you want.”
“I don’t have—”
“I said listen,” the caller snapped. A man. She was sure of that. “You have something I want, and if I don’t get it, your daughter is mine.”
Stella appeared at her side, her red hair wet, her face makeup free. She had freckles—lots of them—and a deep scowl that creased her forehead.
She pulled a chair over and sat, leaning in so that her ear was pressed close to the phone, then grabbed Scout’s hand, angling the phone so she could hear.
“You’re going to bring me what I want,” the caller continued. “And then you’re going to get what you want. A nice easy exchange. No drama. No fuss. Understand?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have anything of yours,” Scout said, her throat dry, her hand shaking so hard, she almost dropped the phone. Stella tightened her grip on Scout’s hand and held it steady, but didn’t say a word.
“Don’t waste my time, lady. You have it. I want it. You don’t know what it is—you’d better figure it out. You’ve got until midnight tonight. You bring it to the little park near your house. You know the one? You and your kid like to play there.”
The fact that he knew that made her numb with fear. “I know it.”
“Good. No police. Anyone but you shows up and you’ll never see your kid again. Understand?”
“I understand, but I want to talk to Lucy. I want to know she’s okay.”
The man hesitated, then muttered something that she couldn’t hear. She thought she heard a woman’s voice, braced herself for the connection to be lost, for any chance she had of speaking to her daughter being lost with it.
“Sixty seconds,” the man said abruptly.
She heard shuffling movement, a whimper that made the hair on her arms stand on end. “Lucy?” she said, her voice trembling, her entire body shaking. “Is that you?”
“Mommy!” Lucy wailed, the cry spearing straight through Scout’s heart.
“Don’t cry, sweetie,” she said, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t wipe them away. She had sixty seconds, and she couldn’t waste even one of them. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Get me, Mommy.” Lucy continued to cry, and Scout wanted to climb through the phone, put her arms around her and hold her close.
“I am. I will. It’s just going to take a little more time.” Her chest ached, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would fly out. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Get me!”
“I love you, sweetie. I’ll be there as soon as I—”
“Time’s up,” the man cut in, Lucy’s cries fading into the background, mixing with the faint sound of a woman’s voice. “Tonight at midnight. The park. You bring what I want. I’ll deliver what you want. Simple. Easy.”
He disconnected.
Scout didn’t move, didn’t think she was breathing. Her chest was too tight, her lungs unable to expand. She’d suspected the Schoepflins had something to do with Lucy’s kidnapping, but this was worse. A stranger had taken her, wanted to exchange her for something that Scout was sure she didn’t have.
“You are not going to panic,” Stella growled, taking the phone from her hand and disconnecting the call. “You are not going to fall apart.”
Yes, I am, she wanted to say, but Stella glared at her, her eyes hot and angry.
“I texted Boone while you were on the phone. The police are already on this,” she continued, every word enunciated and clear as if she didn’t think Scout was going to be able to comprehend anything else.
“She was crying.” It was all Scout could think of saying. Right at that moment, it was the only thing that seemed to matter. Lucy had needed her, and for the first time in her daughter’s life, Scout had failed to bring her comfort.
“I know. I heard,” Stella said more gently. “Move past it, okay? You need to focus. The guy said you had something that he wanted. What is it?”
“I don’t know.” That terrified her, made her breath come faster, her heart race.
“You think you don’t. He thinks you do. Since he has your kid, I think you’d better figure this out. Think back. Were you given an unexpected gift recently?”
“No.”
“Did you bring any books home from the library? Maybe something that had just been reshelved?”
“I brought a bunch of books home last week, but I’m not sure if any of them had just been returned.”
“We need to find those and look through them. It’s possible someone tucked information into one of them and you grabbed it before the intended recipient.” She
was texting as she spoke.
Sending information to Boone?
Scout didn’t ask. She felt hollow and empty, Lucy’s cries still ringing in her ears.
“Go get your purse,” Stella barked. “Grab your coat. Boone will be here in two minutes, and he’s taking you over to your place. The police will meet you there.”
She tried to jump up, but her body refused anything more than a slow unfolding. She ached. Every bone, every muscle. She hurried to her room, heard the front door open as she grabbed her purse and coat. Boone was there. He’d take her to her house; he’d help her search for the information.
If they didn’t find it, what then?
She shrugged into her coat, stumbled back out into the hall, walking right into Boone.
He grabbed her arms, holding her steady. “It’s okay,” he said.
“No. It’s not.” But Stella was right. She wasn’t going to panic. She wasn’t going to fall apart. She was going to search through every inch of her house; she was going to hunt through every book, lift every broken picture frame. She was going to find what she needed, and she had only until midnight to do it.
She hitched her purse up on her shoulder, eased out from Boone’s hands. “We need to go. I have no idea what he wants, and I only have a few hours to figure it out.”
She walked past him, down the hall, past Stella and Jackson and Samuel, who must have heard the commotion and woken up. She didn’t say anything to any of them. Just walked out the door and headed for the SUV that was still idling in the driveway.
* * *
They had something to go on. Finally. And Boone had every intention of following up on it. Lamar wouldn’t be happy about it. Neither would the FBI agent who’d been at their meeting. They hadn’t told him to back off, but they’d made it very clear they could handle the situation themselves.
They could. No doubt about it.
They weren’t going to have to.
Her Christmas Guardian Page 8
