Ransomed Dreams (32 page)

“There’s no problem on our end.”

His dark eyes held her attention. “I was wondering if you could explain why someone from Georgia State would name you as the person in my police sketch. That makes no sense, and it’ll bother me until I have an explanation.”

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I have a theory It’s a simple case of revenge, Mrs. Lang. The woman your PI must have spoken with, Kimberly Beam, is a jilted girlfriend. She must have seen the sketch and thought it resembled me, just enough so she could use it to cause some trouble in my life.”

“But why would an old girlfriend do something like that?” She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around all the recent updates Justin had given her.

“Like I explained to Mr. Moore, I’d planned to propose to
Kimberly on New Year’s Eve two years ago. But she let it slip that she was pregnant. With someone else’s child.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sure you can understand why I didn’t follow through with the proposal and why she would want to tarnish my name at any opportunity. I was her ticket out of single motherhood, but I didn’t play along.”

His story made sense. Gracie’s gut said there was more to it than that, but she was too jet-lagged to continue the conversation. The rest was none of her business anyway. She wanted to get home, fall into her bed, and sleep for days.

“Well then, I’m glad it’s so easily explained. Thank you for your time, Mr. Perkins. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No problem.” He stood to show her out. “Would you like Alice to call you a cab, or do you have another way home? You look too tired to drive right now.”

She was. Too exhausted to talk to Steven too. “That would be wonderful, since a friend dropped me off. Thank you.”

On the taxi ride home, thoughts of her bed and her sweet, lonesome dog kept Gracie’s eyes open. She’d call Steven tonight and see if he could bring Jake home.

She needed the peaceful surroundings of her home and Jake’s warm presence to set her wobbling world spinning back on its axis. She’d deal with her nerves when she saw Steven later.

After a good nap.

Everything looked better after a good rest.

Gracie answered the door with sleep-mussed hair.

Steven smiled when she yawned and said hello at the same time. But Jake beat him through the door, jumping on his owner, making circles around her legs. She kept him away from her side and bent down to nuzzle his neck.

Lucky dog.

“How did you know I was home? I’d planned to call this evening.”

He stepped inside and closed the front door. “Your mom called and said Leah was picking you up at the airport but that you’d be thrilled if I brought Jake home around dinnertime.”

She groaned. “Dinner?”

“Don’t worry. Your mom suggested I stop by a deli and grab something for both of us.” He held up a white sack and then walked to the kitchen.

“She’s got it covered.
Fiddler on the Roof’s
matchmaker has nothing on my mother.” She flopped onto a breakfast chair.

Steven considered breaking into one of his favorite musical’s numbers, but one look at Gracie’s tired eyes and he decided against it. He rummaged through her cabinets for plates instead.

“Steven, have you ever been shot?” The question startled him.

“Years ago.” He piled two pink plates with chips, pickles, and turkey club sandwiches. “Clint risked his life to pull me to safety.”

“Were you in a lot of pain?”

He considered giving her the trauma counselor’s number he’d been taking James to visit. He’d find the card tonight and suggest it soon.

“Yes, I still remember the searing pain. The fear too. I had no idea at first if I would return to work, and I struggled with that.” He took their plates to her kitchen table and waited while she bowed her head to pray.

“What about you? How are you handling it?”

“I’m dealing with it. I talked to my counselor in Georgia a little.” She munched on her pickle first. Jake sat statuelike waiting for a bite. “Your work is very important to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He needed to tread carefully with this new subject. Angela’s words about work being his mistress could color what Gracie heard, and he wanted to ease her fears, not add to them.

“When an assignment is complete and a child is returned to his or her parents, or when a case goes to trial so airtight that there’s no way for justice not to be served, the emotions are incredible. It’s an awesome privilege to put that kind of joy in someone’s eyes. And when I see the perps sentenced so they never have a
chance to do it again, that makes my job worth all the risks.”

“I can’t pretend to comprehend the magnitude of your job. But it’s obvious you give your all to whatever you do. That I understand.” She nibbled at her sandwich. “What about your family, Steven? How do you balance time with James and a demanding work schedule?”

Was she asking about how he’d make time for her too? He could only hope. “You ask hard questions, you know that?”

“I’ve just had a lot of time to think. Tomorrow will be a turning point of sorts for your life, and I’d like to know where that leaves me.” She played with her napkin. “I mean, Beth and my mom and dad already have us walking the aisle, but I’m not sure where things are headed.”

Neither was he. But spending more time with Gracie made the top of his wish list. Marriage? Maybe. That would have to wait till Angela disappeared.

Gracie chewed on her lip and focused on the table.

“You look like you’re dying to say something. What is it?”

“Okay You asked for it, remember.”

He smiled.

She took a deep breath. “The way I see it, Angela was responsible for her own choices. Just like you’re responsible for the choices you make now. Clint is right. Until you forgive her, you’re not totally free. You choose.”

Finishing off his sandwich, he looked straight into her eyes. “You going to take your own advice?”

“Touché.” She stared out the dining room windows for a long time while the dog’s eyes stayed trained on her, and his tail thumped the floor.

“I loved Angela. I’ve been honest with you about that. She rocked my foundation when she ran off and left me with a new-born and the accusations about my work.” Thoughts of Angela’s actions Monday night hit him again. “I blamed her for everything. Hated her. That served me well for a long time. Kept me from feeling the hurt and dwelling on the past. But lately I’ve realized
that I failed her too.” Steven leaned over on his knees and raked his hand through his hair. “I’m still working all that out.”

“I can live with that. I still have things to deal with too. A lot, if you listen to my mother.”

Marianne might have invited him into their lives from their first meeting at the hospital, but asking her about Gracie’s issues wasn’t his style. He’d wait till she was ready to share.

He held her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I need you to know tomorrow could get ugly. Angela was drunk on Monday night when James called. Very drunk.”

Gracie gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

“You know Angela’s drinking is not your fault, right?” She squeezed his hand as he scooted his kitchen chair closer. “Each of us makes our own choices.”

Her words were accomplishing in minutes what Clint had tried to hammer home for the past five years. Or maybe one had set the stage for the other. Either way, the guilt Steven had allowed free reign shriveled a little. But only a little. And he’d still have to follow the logic through and face a ton of mistakes by looking in the mirror.

After he survived the custody hearing.

“I’m praying for you, Steven.”

He pulled her to her feet and drew her close. Then he tilted her chin up and lowered his lips to hers. Gracie’s kiss was everything all at once. Gentle. Passionate. Innocent. Electrifying. With only a narrow hold on the passion stirring within him, he pulled back slightly and rested his forehead on hers.

Gracie’s eyes were still closed. She inhaled a deep, ragged breath and slowly released it.

“Thank you for coming back. Your presence and your prayers matter.” He traced her jawline with his thumb.

Whatever tomorrow held, with Gracie at his side, he felt strong. Hopeful.

More than he’d felt in years.

H
ello, mate. I hear you have some news.”

Tom gripped his new cell phone with sweaty hands, hoping he’d given Joe this number. If not, Joe was right. Tom had no idea how to disappear or utilize an alias.

Wednesday had not begun on a good note.

He walked around his office desk and studied the Kandinsky he’d purchased at the height of his financial prowess. Then his stocks tanked, and he had to live like the rest of the middle class. Except now he had a cool million in an offshore account.

“This has to be fast, Joe. The feds will be clocking in by six.” The placid darkness outside rested in stark contrast to his chaotic life. At least the FBI hadn’t bugged his office. Had they tapped the phones? Probably But he doubted that they had any reason to suspect him.

“Shoot.”

Joe’s word choice sent icy barbs down Tom’s spine. “She’s leaving in two days, bound for Heathrow. From what I’ve gathered in snatches of conversation and paperwork, she’ll be at Hope Ridge until eleven in the morning. Then the Kensingtons will leave together from their residence for an afternoon flight.”

“So my best chance is high noon at the embassy? So American.”

“That’s up to you. I’m done.” Tom ran through his mental checklist while Joe went on with details about Friday. The Brit must have blown a keg last night. Bored or scared, Tom didn’t know. Nor did he care. But the information Joe rattled off would serve Tom well. What a gift a drunk “bloke” could be.

“ … and Bob’s your uncle, mate.”

Tom stopped wearing a path in his thick cream carpet. “What?”

Joe’s long exhalation shouted through the phone. “It means that’s that. We’re done, eh?”

“Yes. Finished. Have a great life, Joe.”

“Supposing that’s your American way of telling me to disappear, let me remind you of a few things. I still control that million-dollar account, and I’ve evaded the FBI for months. You’ve not walked a centimeter in my boots. Watch yerself.”

Tom had reached his boiling point. Nicing things up with a drunken Brit didn’t fit into the schedule today “I’m hanging up, now. Good-bye, Joe.”

“Cheerio, mate.”

He straightened his deep blue power tie and the one expensive suit he planned to pack. Who needed suits to lounge on the beach down under?

In some small way, he hoped his mother would see all his genius in untangling the messes he’d made. Then she’d respect him. Even though he’d never see her again after Friday.

The federal-style brick of the Judicial District Court’s calm and dignified exterior belied the shattered lives represented within.

One of which could be Steven’s. And his son’s.

He tried to focus on the ornate white interior and ignore Angela’s feral pacing of the waiting area outside the courtroom. She’d dressed to impress in her expensive slate-colored suit, as had her husband in his Valentino. Neither spoke to each other or to him.

Steven’s lawyer sat stone-still beside him, sizing up the competition. Suit for suit, they were evenly matched. That fact brought Steven no comfort.

Angela wasn’t evil or trying to destroy him. Maybe that had
never been her intent. Even when she left. His conscience shouted that his marriage hadn’t been void of good times. But the scene Monday night and countless others like it screamed that the fight for full custody of his son wasn’t personal. James’s safety was at stake.

Gracie’s hand on his arm provided a small amount of comfort. Her presence, and no doubt her prayers, gave him a reason to hope. Clint and Sara and his family would be praying as well. James too. His son’s light brown hair and blue eyes dominated Steven’s thoughts.

First steps.

Soccer games and playing Frisbee at the park.

Good-night hugs and stories read over and over again.

“
I love you, Daddy! You’re the best.”
Tears threatened at the memory of James’s words. Words Angela would never hear.

Why he kept coming back to pity and sorrow for her didn’t make sense. It was as if two warring forces vied for his attention, both flinging memories and whispers, none of which he understood.

He hoped God wouldn’t abandon him now. For James’s sake. Surely. He wouldn’t punish James because of Steven’s choices. Still, Clint’s confusing lectures attacked his brain. Clint said he had to face the lies that drove him, controlled him.
“Lies like you’re not good enough, Steven. That’s one of your biggest.”

His partner’s deep and compassionate eyes had challenged him with those words. His purpose undoubtedly had been to nudge Steven toward God. All it did was spin him into more confusion.

“You want to walk outside and talk?” Gracie’s soft invitation came with a gorgeous smile.

Steven checked his watch. One-thirty. Their case was first on Wednesday’s docket in thirty minutes. The chilly November air would do him good. Might chase away the hounding thoughts, for a while, at least.

“Sure.”

Angela stiffened as he stood. “If you leave before our case is called, it’s a criminal offense.” She crossed her arms and drummed her peach fingernails on her suit coat. The open foyer echoed her words, despite the large number of people milling around.

He straightened the cross-and-handprint tie James had picked out last night. The same one his son had made with puffy red and yellow finger paints for Father’s Day this year. “I’m not here to pay you back, Angela. You started this process. I’ll see it through to the end. For James.”

She muttered something under her breath. The last few months she’d been on a mission, using perfect manners. Not anymore. Par for the course when it suited her.

Steven shook his head and took Gracie’s hand. He double-checked his watch. Still time for a short escape outside.

The bright sun and cloudless sky did nothing for his mood. “Sorry about that. I know it bothers you to see that interplay.”