Ransomed Dreams (31 page)

Soon.

He ended the meeting with a frustrated Mr. Moore receiving no information to dredge up any new leads. The poor man wouldn’t be Tom’s problem much longer.

As he closed his office door and relished the silence, Tom could feel the balmy air of the southern hemisphere. Taste the tang of a well-concocted martini he’d use to toast the FBI and British Intelligence that would never find him.

Not even Joe.

Tom had practiced and prepared well for the biggest day of his life. He was ready. Everything would fall into place. And Justin Moore, private investigator extraordinaire, was none the wiser for all his attempts to rattle his prey.

It hadn’t worked.

Nothing would alter the plans now.

Steven sat on his back deck, the phone warm in his hand despite the cool evening breeze.

Gracie was sharing about her visit to her favorite Whole Foods store and all the samples she’d tasted earlier that day He rubbed Jake’s soft fur while the dog dozed beside the deck chair. Between calls with Gracie and the loveable golden retriever his son adored, home had become a fun escape. Jake’s slobbered affection on James had helped his son on so many levels. Steven too.

“So you’re cooking me filet mignon for dinner when I get back?” Gracie’s playful voice kicked his hope up a notch. They’d been flirting on the phone about every other day for the past few weeks, and she seemed more than ready to come back to Alexandria.

He hoped her reasoning included him and not just escaping memories.

“As you wish, my lady.”

Gracie giggled.

He could imagine her crimson cheeks and dancing hazel eyes. The ache to hold her, to kiss her, had only grown during her recovery time in Georgia. Every night, the memory of her smile kept him from going crazy over one more frustrating development in the Kensington case. Or going insane with fearful scenarios of what the judge would say on Wednesday at the final custody hearing.

Steven stuffed those depressing thoughts. “I hope I can always make you blush like that and be with you to see it.”

Gracie’s soft breathing made him wonder if he’d pushed too much with those comments. He waited to see if she’d change the subject.

“You probably always will, Steven.”

He felt like he’d scored a game-winning slam dunk. Why his thoughts flew back to high school whenever he and Gracie spoke, he couldn’t imagine. Unless it was because the possibility of enjoying a relationship again reminded him of the only other time he’d allowed unbridled hope and hormones to make him believe in future dreams.

Except this time he’d keep his hormones in check. Gracie was worth waiting for.

His call-waiting beeped, and he glanced at the screen. Angela’s number. “Hey, Gracie. Can I call you back? James is on the other line.”

“Sure. I’ll be awake a little while longer.”

He pushed away the images that comment conjured and clicked over. “Hey, little man. What’s up?”

Steven had figured his son’s first overnight with Angela might not last too long, and it might be time for a ride home. This little trial run had been his attempt to reciprocate Angela’s desire for peace. Maybe joint custody, a likely option, wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Daddy I need you to come get me.” His son’s sniffles magnified through the phone line.

Steven stood and walked inside, heading for his car keys.
Jake scrambled inside with him. “What’s wrong, son? Are you hurt?” Surely Angela could manage to make sure James’s still tender stitch site was okay.

“Angela, I mean. Mom, is being real loud and I can’t sleep.”

Steven remembered Angela’s loud yelling. Most times a drink in hand had accompanied the ear-splitting shrieks.
Not again
.

“I tried to sneak out, but her husband yelled at me to go to bed.” James’s trembling voice was barely above a whisper.

Keys cutting into his palm, he loaded Jake into his Explorer and waited for the garage door to open. “I’m on my way. You stay tucked in bed, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He clenched the steering wheel, listening to Jake’s panting in the backseat.

Thankful for the cell phone he’d tucked in James’s bag, Steven sped toward Angela’s condo. The one she and the professor had rented just outside Old Town Alexandria so they could stay close by and keep James on the weekends she was in town.

Which wouldn’t happen again if Angela was drunk tonight.

Images of shot glasses shattering against the wall, curses full of venom, and what Angela could be screaming at James made his pulse accelerate faster than his SUV as he pressed hard on the gas pedal. James had been through enough in the past month, and Steven had just led his son into a lion’s den with no protection.

“Mom,” James had called her. Only because Angela begged him to. That alone rankled Steven, but he had played along.

Stupid.

He’d fallen under his ex-wife’s spell again. Hoped for the best. Gotten snowed like always where she was concerned. This time would be the last. He’d do everything to convince the judge that his son belonged with him and was in danger if Angela had any involvement in his life.

Once Angela was out of the picture—again—things would settle down. Gracie would be home soon, and she could provide the female role model the courts were sure to insist James needed.

If only life worked like his best-laid plans.

Steven pulled into the condo parking lot and turned off the ignition. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. No need to give Angela any ammunition for court.

He rubbed Jakes fur and then walked to the condo door. If Clint were here, he’d remind Steven to pray No time for that. But he’d talk to Clint at work tomorrow. Remind them to pray hard on Wednesday.

He rang the doorbell. A short, bald man answered. “Steven. What are you doing here?”

Marcus, the one she’d left Steven for. He sized up the middle-aged man and wondered for the thousandth time why. Why had Angela left him for a little mouse of a man? The same man who’d had the gall to yell at James.

Steven relaxed his balled fists. “Don’t ever raise your voice to my son.”

Marcus’s face turned a pasty shade of white. “Angie, baby you have a visitor.”

The mouse wasn’t a gentleman either. Hadn’t even tried to protect Angela. If James’s future wasn’t at stake, Steven would have liked to take the professor out back and throttle him till he squeaked.

Angela staggered to the doorway her wide eyes registering his presence. “What do you want, Stevie?” Her breath smelled of stale Maker’s Mark. Bourbon. Her liquor of choice.

Steven fought the memories of that smell. The empty promises to quit. The lies about rehab. Nothing had changed. Not even his own stupid naiveté.

“I want my son.” Steven stepped between his drunken ex-wife and the mousy professor.

Angela sunk her claws into his bicep. “You can’t barge into my home like this.”

“I can when you’ve put my son at risk.” He shook her hands away. “He called me to say he was scared. Terrified of your loud squawking and whatever else you were doing.”
Steven shot a glance at Marcus. The man said nothing.

Angela’s brave face crumpled. “He wouldn’t stop talking about Gracie. Gracie prayed this and Gracie did that. I had to beg him to call me Mom. I shouldn’t have to beg my son to call me Mom.”

“Being a mother goes far beyond just giving birth; something you didn’t stick around to find out.”

She cocked a hand to slap him, but Steven caught her wrist. “Never again, Angela. You may not have changed, but I have. You lose this time.”

Steven stormed unhindered to the back bedroom. James was lying in his bed, shaking under the covers. Steven collected his son and his backpack. “I’m here, James. We’re going home.”

He buried his face in Steven’s chest and clung to him.

Steven paused at the front door while Marcus and Angela stood rooted to their previous spots. “I’ll see you in court. If you’re sober enough to stand, that is.” He exited the condo, and the door slammed behind him.

Come Wednesday this nightmare would be over. One less problem to solve. One less heartache to face.

And he’d lock the memory of Angela Barrett from his mind forever.

S
itting in Hartsfield’s concourse B at the farthest gate, Gracie’s side ached.

Normal breathing hadn’t happened since Justin Moore’s frazzled phone call yesterday. He claimed to have e-mailed her details that required her attention, but she hadn’t responded. So he’d called.

“
I believe Thomas Perkins is the man you saw the night your family was killed
.”

But Justin had no proof. And she was sure her private investigator was wrong. Dead wrong. She couldn’t let an innocent man be harassed by the police because of a drawing she’d probably imagined. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her vice principal’s being named from the sketch she never should have given.

Maybe his constant hovering at school and his distinctive Ichabod Crane nose had colored her memories. She’d done Justin’s sketch from a nightmare more than from a real memory.

Her cell phone rang. Now she could be like the million other Atlanta travelers with a silver attachment in their ears.

“Beth? What are you doing calling me so early in the morning?” Her sister had flown home with her adorable twins last week. Gracie missed them something fierce.

“Mom said you were flying back to Virginia already I thought the doc said you’d be off work until after Thanksgiving.” Beth yawned.

“You gotta stop having dreams about me, you know.” Gracie’s tone didn’t match her attempt at humor. “Steven’s custody
hearing is tomorrow. I told him I’d be back for that.”

Not the entire reason, but one Beth would be happy to hear.

“So you’ve decided to embrace the boyfriend thing?” Beth’s coffee machine gurgled to life in the background. “That’s worth waking up for, even at six west coast time. Details, please. I’d like some juicy tidbits before I have to slave away at my desk pushing grant papers all day while the boys make Play-Doh statues at day care. What a life.”

“Nothing new. Like I told you before you left, I’m proceeding cautiously. A lot depends on how Steven handles the results of the custody hearing.”

“But you’ll be at his side, fighting the evil ex-wife, and then ride off into the east coast sunset.” Beth giggled at her own parody.

“Not quite.”

“Is Steven picking you up at the airport?”

Gracie heard her row number being called. “Leah’s dropping me off at school. I may call Steven to pick me up from there.”

“School? Please don’t tell me you’re going to visit your classroom. You barely survived Peter and Rob’s hugs. Those first graders are likely to tackle you if you show up there.”

That would be a welcome diversion. “I’ll be careful. Talk to you soon, Beth. I love you.”

The plane ride home passed with little fanfare. Her seatmates all kept their noses in fiction books while Gracie tried to doze. She’d need all her strength to face what awaited her back in Alexandria.

At Dulles Airport, Leah pulled her into a light hug and insisted she wait on the sidewalk for the car. Gracie had tried to grab her suitcase from the silver luggage carousel earlier, but Leah had bulldozed her away from that too.

This was worse than being hovered over by her mother at home. Thankfully on die ride to Hope Ridge, they focused on Leah’s upcoming trip to visit her parents in Colorado for Thanksgiving.

“You’re going home for the holidays, right?”

Leah’s Lexus smelled like Yankee Candle’s sage and citrusscent.
A mix of beach and citrus and summer breezes. Gracie wouldn’t mind a walk on the Destin beaches she and Mark had often visited for family vacations.

She wondered if Steven liked beaches.

“Earth to Gracie. You dreaming about your FBI beau?”

Caught red-handed. Or in her case, red-faced again. She needed to get past Beth’s romantic fantasies and back to the real world. Past everyone’s notion of her and Steven getting married and living happily ever after.

“Please don’t echo Beth. I need you to be Leah, the strong and wise district attorney.”

Leah laughed. “I’ll unpack my Superwoman cape for you when I get home.”

They pulled into Hope Ridge Academy grounds. “Why am I dropping you off here again?”

Leah’s upcoming trip must have made her a little at loose ends. That worked for Gracie. Less explanation required. The fewer people who knew about Justin Moore’s ridiculous claims, the better. Especially if she still wanted a job to return to after the holidays.

“I need to meet with Mr. Perkins, and then I’ll see if Steven can take me home. That way you and William don’t have to wait for me.”

Leah shot her a knowing look. “Very magnanimous of you.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. She’d play along. For now. It was better than imagining her world without Steven after his custody hearing. If it went badly she’d have to find a way to untangle from Steven and Angela’s emotional mess and wait until he was ready to move past his past.

A challenge that neither of them was ready to tackle.

Gracie fidgeted with her blue-and-white checked jumper as she waited in the main office. Skirts and dresses were still more comfortable on her incision sites than pants. Better to focus on her
wardrobe than on her “worked in” meeting with Mr. Perkins.

Everyone had been so happy to see her. They spoke of how well her students were doing, but also about how much they missed her. Like she missed them. Getting back into her classroom might be hard, but she’d face her fears just like Victoria had done.

That little girl was an inspiration. After all she’d been through in the last few months, the little blonde had regained her smile. And Maria said it hadn’t disappeared when she returned to school after the shooting.

“Mrs. Lang? Mr. Perkins will see you now.” Alice led her back to the private office.

Her boss stood as she entered. “Hello, Mrs. Lang.”

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I appreciate it.”

He motioned for her to sit. “Glad to help. Now, what can I do for you today?”

She brushed the traveling wrinkles from her jumper. “I know my private investigator was here to see you. I … I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings and make sure everything was still in place for my return after Thanksgiving.”