Calculated Revenge (8 page)

She mashed the button on the automatic garage door opener, but got no response. She tried again, and the door still didn’t budge. Oh, bother! The batteries were probably dead. Good thing the ring for the car keys also held a house key. She shut the vehicle off and went around to the passenger side to collect her groceries.

As she leaned in to grab them, a soft shuffling sound carried to her from behind. She stiffened and began to turn. A hard object crashed into the back of her head, and bright sunshine faded to twilight as she folded to the pavement. A torn tennis shoe swam into view. Then darkness owned her.

T
he hum of tires against the pavement and mellow classic rock turned low on the radio kept Noah company on the road between Minneapolis and Cottonwood Grove. He should have chosen a blues station to reflect his mood. As much as he’d resisted taking another missing person’s case, he’d begun to taste the thrill of the hunt. A shameful, selfish little gremlin on the inside felt cheated of the catch.

Worse, Laney and Briana were out of this life—at least for the summer. There was no guarantee they would return to Cottonwood Grove in the fall. With Laney’s parents living in Louisville, it would be easy for her to decide to take a job in that area.

Driving through one of the myriad small towns along Highway 55, his cell phone rang. He turned off into a convenience store parking lot and answered.

“This is Roland Thompson,” said the voice at the other end.

The gravity in the man’s tone sat Noah to attention. “What’s up?”

“Laney’s been attacked.”

Bile scorched the back of Noah’s throat. He swallowed. “Is she all right?”

“We’re at the hospital with her now. She’s got a concussion, and they’re admitting her overnight for observation—over her
protests, I might add.” Roland heaved a harsh breath. “Her memory is pretty fuzzy, but she thinks somebody came up behind her in our driveway and clubbed her over the head. We believe—” The man’s voice broke. “We believe that’s all that happened, but they’re checking her out more thoroughly.”

White heat flashed through Noah. “I’m turning around. I’ll catch the first flight.” He shot out of the parking lot. Somebody was going to answer for this.

“Thank you.” The words came out laden with emotion. “We don’t have the right guy behind bars yet, do we.” The sentence was a statement, not a question.

“It would appear not.” Noah pressed the gas pedal until his speed hovered on the edge of demanding a cop’s attention. “Have you notified the FBI?”

“There’s an agent here breathing fire down our necks to talk to her, but the doc hasn’t let him in yet.”

“I’ll call Sheriff Lindoll in Cottonwood Grove and see if he can get a feel for what’s happening in the Minneapolis office as a result of this development.”

“Thanks again, Noah. A boulder just rolled off my chest, knowing you’re back on the case. Laney will be happy to see you, too.” The tone held a sly note.

What was Laney’s father trying to tell him?

“My wife’s pretty sharp about these things, and she insists you care for my daughter,” Roland added. “Is she right?” The point-blank question said the man would stand for no evasion.

So that was it. Noah might as well own up. “Yes, sir, I do. But I don’t plan to let personal feelings affect how I handle this matter.”

“See that you don’t. Let it ride…for now.”

Hope skimmed Noah’s consciousness. Was the man hinting his daughter might return the interest? Laney had always been reserved and professional around him. And then there was Pierce vying for her affection, and she wasn’t exactly pushing him away.

“Expect me this evening,” he told Roland, and they ended the call.

Noah punched in the auto dial for Hank. Good thing he’d programmed that number in before he left home.

“We’ve got trouble,” Hank greeted him.

“You know already?”

“What are you talking about? You can’t possibly know what I know.”

Noah took a deep breath. “Let’s start this conversation over. Laney was struck from behind outside her parents’ home, and she’s in the hospital. Is that the trouble you mean?”

Hank let out a low whistle. “No, it sure isn’t. She all right?”

“Concussion. They’re checking her out at the hospital now.”

“Someone popping Laney makes my information even more vital.”

Noah’s hands strangled the steering wheel. “What bomb are you sitting on, Lindoll?”

“Your school custodian has disappeared. Miss Aggie phoned me about a couple hours ago when he didn’t answer an emergency call about what could be a burst pipe in the school building. It’s a regular flood, pouring out the doors onto the sidewalks. That’s how some neighbors noticed it on a Sunday and all.”

Noah groaned. Great! A crisis at the school, too. “Maybe Richard’s out of town for the weekend.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but I got curious, so I drove to that farm place he rents outside of town.” Hank’s desk chair creaked in the background. “The door to the house was standing wide open. Everything’s gone—personal effects, furniture, the little horse trailer he used when he moved his stuff in, the whole nine yards. I hate to tell you, but your custodian has moved on without notice.”

Noah scratched behind his ear with his thumb as he held the phone. “Maybe the landlord knows where he went.”

“Ahead of you there.” The sheriff gave a dry chuckle. “He had no idea the guy was moving out and stiffing him for a month’s rent, much less where his tenant was headed.”

Noah’s gut clenched. “Maybe Louisville, Kentucky.”

“I’ve got an APB out on his vehicle, as well as a request for the Minneapolis PD to check the airport lots.”

Noah nodded, though he realized the other man couldn’t see him. “Have you tapped your source in the federal office to see what they’re thinking about Edward Foreman now that Laney’s been attacked while he’s in custody? The guy’s blood on the backpack begs an explanation.”

Hank’s chair creaked. “I’d give a lot to know what Foreman says about how that blood got there, if he’s innocent the way they all say.”

“Could there be conspirators?” Noah burst out with the first thing that came to his head. “But then,” he added, as arguments against the theory rushed him, “pedophiles don’t normally work together. If we’re actually dealing with that sort of monster. I’ve been toying with other ideas—like a vendetta against the Thompson family. But why has there been an eighteen-year span of time between attacks?”

Hank grunted. “I’m leaning toward the lone pedophile angle. Maybe the perp socked Laney over the head to get her out of the way, thinking her daughter was in the car.”

Noah’s brows lifted. “That’s a good theory. I may know more when I talk to Laney.”

“And I’ll get what I can out of the feds.”

“I’m on my way back to Louisville. If that’s where our perp is, that’s where I need to be, flooded school or not. I’ll have to call Miss Aggie for an update on that end.”

“You do that.” Hank chuckled. “Chances are she gave that flood water one of her looks, and it hightailed straight back into the pipe it came from.”

Noah spurted a laugh. “That wouldn’t surprise me.”

He hung up with Hank and got on the phone to the school office. If he guessed correctly, that’s where he’d find his ever-capable assistant. She answered on the second ring.

“Are you up to your neck in alligators?” Noah asked her.

“Hah!” she barked. “That’s about the only thing we don’t have around here, what with the plumber, the insurance adjuster and the clean-up crew.”

“How bad is the damage?” He passed a sign that said he was nearing Minneapolis. He’d be back at the airport in about forty-five minutes, barring traffic issues.

“The adjuster hasn’t said yet. At minimum we’ll need a new gym floor, as well as some sheet rocking where water soaked up the sides of the walls.”

Noah shook his head. “For the water to have saturated that much, the pipe must have burst shortly after we locked up the building on Friday.”

“Who said a pipe burst?” Her words contained an edge.

“Well,” Noah paused, “Hank mentioned that as a speculation.”

Miss Aggie sniffed. “A lot he knows. I got a plumber in here right away. He says somebody turned on the main and left it running.”

Words dried up in Noah’s throat. Someone had sabotaged the school building,
and
someone had struck Laney
and
someone had abducted and killed a defenseless child eighteen years ago. The same person? Richard Hodge? Noah’s brow furrowed.

The custodian had been rifling through the backpack when Noah came outside to secure the scene. Had the man been trying to convey the appearance of natural curiosity as a cover for a deeper motive—to give a non-suspicious reason for why his prints or DNA might be on the pack? Then how did Edward Foreman’s blood end up on Grace’s school bag? This case grew more confusing by the minute.

Laney lay in a hospital bed with the head end elevated, and stared without seeing at a television program. She gnawed at her lower lip. Why couldn’t she be home with her parents and her daughter, instead of stuck in an institution for a night? Except for a nagging headache, masked by a painkiller, she was fine. Physically, anyway.

Her dad had been torn, wanting to bunk here in her room and play guard dog and needing to watch over Briana, too. Her mom had offered to stay in the hospital while dad went with Briana, but Laney shooed them all away. Who could get to her with an FBI muscleman stationed outside her door? Now, Laney regretted her choice as she stared at four walls in a lonely room.

Who was doing these awful things? Edward Foreman was off the hook—at least, for today’s assault. Was the real perp after her, or was he trying to get through her to Briana? If the creep was after her daughter, why warn her with these taunts? Why not go straight to the snatch? Something didn’t add up. Maybe Noah was right that more was going on here than a simple case of stranger abduction. But if the attacks were personal, why? Laney’s stomach knotted.

Her bedside telephone rang, and Laney jerked upright, bringing a pulse of pain from her head. She expelled a breath. Probably mom calling to say good-night. She picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

Harsh, heavy breathing responded. Laney’s skin crawled.

“See how the players pay when the innocents suffer?” a male voice grated in her ear.

Laney’s mouth went dry as sun-baked tarmac. A click announced that the connection had closed. “Wait!” She found her voice, but empty air mocked her.

A sharp rap sounded on the hospital room door, and it began
to ease open. Had this creep gotten past the agent outside? Laney let out a shriek. The receiver fell from nerveless fingers and clattered to the linoleum. Male shouts of alarm responded and two men burst into the room—one the burly agent, the other familiar and welcome.

“Oh, Noah!” Laney cried. “I just had the most horrible phone call.” She held out her arms. He sat on the edge of her bed and held her while tears wet his shirt. “I can’t—do this—anymore. It has—to stop!”

“Shh…shh. We’ll make it stop. Don’t worry. We’ll get the guy.”

Noah’s tenderly spoken assurances soothed Laney’s heart, and his arms cocooned her soul. If only this moment could last forever. But of course it couldn’t. In fact, she was making a complete fool of herself. With a sigh, Laney pulled away. Eyes down, she picked at her sheet with thumb and forefinger.

Noah’s hand cupped her chin. “Tell us what happened.”

Her gaze found the agent standing beyond Noah, and heat seared her cheeks. Bad enough that she’d lost control with Noah, but a witness compounded the embarrassment with interest.

“Someone called you on the telephone, ma’am?” the agent prompted.

She nodded and returned her attention to Noah, who stood up and backed away a step. She’d probably made him terribly uncomfortable with her hysterical display.

“It was a man,” she said. “I didn’t recognize the voice, but he whispered in this harsh tone, so maybe he was trying to disguise his voice.”

Noah bent toward her. “What did he say?”

“Something about innocents paying…No, that’s not right. I don’t—” She closed her eyes and fished for the exact memory among her jumbled thoughts. That blow to the head must have done more damage than she realized. “He said, ‘See how the players pay when the innocents suffer?’” She opened her eyes.

The agent nodded, gaze distant. He pulled out a cell phone and strode from the room.

“Good job.” Noah smiled at her. “We’ll let the federal guys try to figure out where that call came from, but I doubt they’ll have any luck.”

“What do you think that man meant by players paying? Like gambling?”

“I don’t know, Laney. Maybe your parents will have an idea.”

She scowled up at him. There he went again with the insinuations. “Why should they have a clue? Neither of them has a gambling problem.”

Noah’s gaze remained tender against hers. “Then there must be another meaning.”

Laney’s hands fisted. “Every time I turn around some new taunt blindsides me.”

“You said a mouthful there.” He frowned. “The focus seems to be on you, and the attacks are escalating to physical now. I agree. This has to end pronto.”

Laney sat forward. “Do you think this creep isn’t after Briana after all?” The notion brought up a whole new train of thought of a way to help protect her daughter and work toward catching this guy at the same time.

“I can’t say that yet.” Noah scratched under his ear. “Extreme precautions need to be taken with her, as well.”

Laney nodded. “My dad has hired private security guards on top of whatever the FBI has on us. He told me he’s upgrading his security system at home tomorrow, too.”

“Good for him. You should be pretty safe holed up there until this is over.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not ‘holing up,’ as you put it. If this guy wants me, then I’m going to make him come after me…away from my daughter.”

Noah’s brow knotted. “What are you talking about?”

“Humor me for a minute while I explain my logic.” She held up a palm at his skeptical expression. “The backpack was left for me to find. Only I would know its significance. Then the doll was sent to me. And you know what?” She snapped her fingers. “Bree has light brown hair. The doll was blonde like Grace. This guy really
is
after me. It’s like he’s trying to finish what he started. Maybe he intended to take us both the day he got Gracie.”

Her breath caught. Could it be that her irresponsible behavior had spared her life after all? That her parents were right to be thankful she wasn’t with Grace that day? She shook her head. What if she’d been able to save them both if she hadn’t run off and left her sister alone to deal with a monster?