Ransomed Dreams (35 page)

“You can’t head the team going after her if she’s missing. You know that, right?”

Steven parked the Explorer in Gracie’s driveway and faced off with his partner. “Clint, I’m going after her. Tom is still the main suspect on my case.” He checked his watch. “I didn’t lose my son Wednesday and I’m sure not going to lose Gracie today.”

He stormed up the sidewalk. On instinct, he drew his gun and tried Gracie’s front door. Unlocked.

Not good.

He proceeded inside. Clint followed. With every step Steven’s heart raced faster. He was walking into his worst nightmare.

They moved through each of the open rooms of the main floor, then to the staircase.

Nothing moved.

Steven knew he’d find the upstairs empty too, but training and hope spurred him on.

“It’s clean, Steven.” Clint holstered his gun and pulled out a cell phone. “An ERT is on the way.”

A high-pitched whimper drove him to the back door. Jake.

Steven stepped onto the back patio and nearly fell over as the trembling dog leaped on his chest. “Down, boy. Come on, Jake,
come in here.” The dog was cold and very hungry Not good at all.

The dog raced into the kitchen and made short work of devouring his food and water and begged for more. “Come on, boy. We need to go.” He grabbed Jake’s collar and headed to Gracie’s next-door neighbor.

Clint could deal with the evidence team and whichever agent would head up the search for Gracie. For all he knew, they were too late anyway.

His lungs fought to expand as a lead weight of hopelessness slammed into him. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying. As soon as he could, he’d tear away from FBI red tape and get on the road. Regardless of what Clint had to say about interfering with an open missing person’s investigation, this had been his case first.

Long before he’d known Gracie would be at risk.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now.

Steven knocked on the door of her favorite older neighbor. The eyes and ears of the block, Gracie had called her. “Mrs. Davidson, did you talk to Gracie this morning?”

“No, Steven, I didn’t get to hear her talk about you today.” The woman smiled. “I don’t get out anymore like I used to. In fact, I decided to stay in bed till late this morning. But I did notice a spindly young man taking her for a drive a few hours ago.”

His pulse kicked up a notch. “What did he look like and when was that exactly?”

A large van pulled into Gracie’s drive and evidence techs scrambled out.

She stepped out on the porch. “What in the world is going on? Is Gracie going back to the hospital? Oh my heavens, is she okay?”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Davidson. Gracie is fine.”
Please, let that not he a lie
. “The crowd will be leaving shortly.”

The elderly woman eyed the people next door with suspicion.

Jake growled.

Steven led her back inside with Jake. “The man that Gracie
left with … can you give me any details?”

“He was in a black suit. Thick curly hair.” She stared at her ceiling. “I believe that was about one o’clock. Not too long after I downed my laxative—”

“Thanks, Mrs. Davidson.” His stomach churned as he checked his watch. “I really appreciate your watching Jake.” Steven stepped off the porch and hurried across the yard to meet Clint.

“Agent Kessler.” The agent in charge of the evidence team approached. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“I really need to get going. Can we wrap this up fast?” Steven forced his jaw to relax. Appearing too anxious might raise some red flags.

Clint raised his eyebrow.

“Do you know if Mrs. Lang had any enemies, anyone who might be responsible for her disappearance?”

“Yes. Thomas Perkins. You can get the details from Agent Parker with the Crimes Against Children Unit.”

The young agent took far more notes than the words Steven had just given. “Know where they might be headed?”

“Georgia.”

The agent stopped writing. “How can you be sure?”

“A hunch.” Steven pulled keys from his pants pocket. “I need to head out. Call if you find something.” He handed the agent his business card.

He checked his watch again. Every minute he stayed rooted in Alexandria …

Steven shoved those thoughts aside.

He had to keep one focus—finding Gracie.

Today.

Alive.

“Hand me your keys, Steven. I’m driving.” Clint stood his ground next to the driver’s side door. “You’re in no shape to drive. Off duty or not.”

Steven handed him the keys and strapped into the passenger’s side. “Tom has a two hour or more lead on us.”

“I called Agent Maxwell. Told him we’re following our suspect.” Clint headed the Explorer toward 1-95. “We’re clear, and I’m flooring it, partner. We’ll catch him.”

“We’d better. Before he hurts Gracie.”

Clint would likely have a few hours to reason with Steven, but he couldn’t think of a good segue into all that needed to be said. So he prayed.

And waited.

Steven kept his focus on the asphalt in front of them, mouth set and jaw clenched. “How are you going to cut a two-hour lead?”

“I’ll cut it to less than one right here.” He pegged the speedometer well past ninety. “And maybe Gracie used her ingenuity and stalled for time someplace too.”

Silence.

“Tell me about Wednesday, Steven. That should pass the time.” Clint needed a distraction. Something to get the image of Gracie’s dead body out of his mind.

Steven slumped in his seat. “I told you. I won custody. Angela disappeared. It’s over.”

“Not by a long shot.”

His partner looked out the window. “She was so defeated. It hurt, Clint. I didn’t intend to destroy her. I only wanted to keep James safe.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Steven didn’t change his focus on the window. “Find Gracie. Raise my son.”

Clint held the wheel with both hands and white knuckles, adrenaline pumping. Not a good feeling. He was getting too old for this high-speed chase scene. And even more tired of waiting on Steven to deal with the past.

Clint started coughing and fought to maintain speed. He set the cruise control.

“You getting sick?” Steven turned concerned eyes his way.

“No. Don’t change the subject.” Clint pushed down all the questions Sara would have if she knew about his recent cough and night sweats. Taking a fast drink of water, he pushed his mind to stay present. “I’ve heard what Gracie’s had to say to you. She’s echoed what I’ve been saying for years. Tell me you’re not ignoring her too.”

“That’s a low blow.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. She cares about you, Steven. But you’re not free of the past or free to start something good with Gracie until you forgive Angela. Forgive yourself too. And you can’t do that until you deal with the lie you blame on your ex-wife.”

Pulling a Bible from his coat pocket, Steven held it up. “See this? I’m carrying it now because Gracie said James was talking about how my dad carries a Bible everywhere. But since I don’t, James decided he didn’t need to bring his to school anymore either.”

Clint winced. Nothing like a child’s footsteps to jerk a man into the right path.

If the man listened.

“So I’m working on the rest, okay?” Steven pocketed his Gideon’s Bible and turned back to the window. “Let’s stick to finding Gracie right now. My heathen soul can wait.”

“We have a few hours to kill. I think we should stick with the current conversation until we’re finished.”

Steven huffed. “I know you do. You and Gracie are like pit bulls, but I don’t want to deal with it right now. Especially not when she could be dead already Like Olivia.”

Clint gripped the wheel harder and whipped in and out of the fast lane a few times. “God’s in control, Steven. I don’t understand the harsh realities of our job, but I choose to hold on to what I know. I know God is good.”

Clint’s cell phone buzzed.

Steven picked it up. “It’s the unit chief.”

Listening to his partner’s side of the conversation, Clint tried
to mesh bits and pieces of it together as the car headed into slower and slower traffic.

“Basically, locals have kept the Bureau informed on the recent APB.” Steven tossed the phone on the console between them. “There was a sighting near South Hill about thirty minutes ago. We’re close on his tracks.”

“See? God’s at work.”

More silence.

Clint wanted to push on Steven’s belief that he’d never be good enough. To share that no matter what Angela said or did or thought, that was not what God said. But Steven had thrown up a wall.

And nothing but God could crash that one down.

Thirty long, silent minutes later, Clint’s cell buzzed again.

Steven grabbed it, listened, and took a map from the glove compartment. “Got it. ETA twenty minutes.”

“What’s the latest?”

His partner snapped the phone shut. “Local cops just got a call about a disturbance this side of Greensboro, at a little mom-and-pop gas station. Fits our APB.” Steven sat stiffer and checked his watch.

“Now would be a good time to pray, partner.” Clint floored the accelerator. He’d drive fast and pray faster.

No telling what Thomas Perkins would do if this turned into a hostage situation. The local cops could be unpredictable too. Clint wondered how Gracie was holding up.

So many wild thoughts bounced around his head, but he kept his mouth closed because none of them offered much hope. He’d seen too many standoffs end with multiple casualties. Crazy men backed into a corner often chose death by cop over jail.

Which meant Gracie …

Clint slapped that thought down.

They would
not
be too late this time.

G
racie huddled against the passenger side door. Tom had stopped at a little mom-and-pop gas station somewhere in Podunk, South Carolina.

“If you so much as squeak, I’ll take you and the two old people in the little mart down. You hear?”

She nodded and stayed still. But when the owner and his wife stepped out to wave while Tom pumped gasoline, she reacted on instinct.

She waved back. “Oh, Tom, honey,” she practically yelled with a mock Southern drawl as she got out of the car. “I do need to use the facilities. I’ll just be a sec.”

Tom had little choice. Shoot everyone in sight, or let her go to the bathroom alone.

He grabbed her arm and traced the bruise on her face. “Don’t make me hurt them because you opened your mouth.”

The little gray-haired woman walked her to the tiny rest-room in silence. Gracie stayed quiet under Tom’s watchful eye but deliberately turned her reddened cheek toward the woman, hoping a long look would motivate her to call the police.

Escaping into the little bathroom, Gracie locked the door and leaned against it. There wasn’t anywhere to run. A few trees. One road. Nowhere safe for her to go in the growing darkness. She wouldn’t make it far anyway with an aching side and a burning left cheek.

She spied a supply closet door and rushed to open it. Instead of cleaning items, there was a small storage area full of boxes with another door that looked like it opened into the mart.
Moving as fast as she could without making noise, she barricaded both of the doors with a few heavy boxes.

Outside, a car screeched its tires.

She jumped and the stack of empty boxes beside her hit the floor. Her blood pressure climbed with the slight noise she made. Gracie held her breath and waited, praying the police would come before Tom could find her.

The gas station bell clanged and the outside door slammed. “Where is my wife?”

Tom sounded close enough to reach through the wall and pull her out of hiding. He sure put on a good act with the concern in his voice. Of course he’d been doing a master act for the last year. So much made sense now. All the extra assignments he’d slapped her with every break during the school year. His snooping around her classroom. Especially the day she was shot.

Poor Victoria.

One by one, her students came to mind. She held on to the thought of James the longest. She ached to see her students again. And one parent in particular.

Tom’s voice forced her back to the present. “My wife is sick and off her medications. She could be passed out in the bathroom. Let me in so I can check on her.”

Gracie shuddered at his tearjerker story. She prayed for the kind store owners, hoping they wouldn’t believe him. And that if they continued to stall for her, Tom wouldn’t wave his menacing gun in their faces. Or worse.

She wouldn’t die by this coward’s hand. She’d fight. And pray no one else got hurt.

A noise outside made Gracie hold her breath.

Someone slipped into the bathroom and the door lock clicked. Gracie willed herself not to make the slightest sound.

“Honey,” the woman whispered into the supply closet. “You okay in there?”

Gracie wanted to answer but didn’t know if Tom was there too. So she held her tongue.

“I called the police. Should be hearing them any minute now, I suspect.”

A deep sigh escaped. This would be over soon. Gracie whispered, “Thank you.”

The bathroom door opened and closed again.

Minutes dragged on, and Gracie’s eyes adjusted to the dark. Tall cardboard boxes lined the four walls. Not much else but cobwebs and the musty smell that permeated the little room like a long-abandoned basement.

Abandoned. That fit.

The men’s voices had gone silent, but no one opened the storage room door. Then she heard sirens. Lots of them.

“Get back here. Pops.” Tom’s voice drew nearer to her hiding place. “You’re my only ticket out of this miserable place.”

“Please, don’t hurt him.” A quivery voice stabbed at Gracie’s conscience. “He has a weak heart. You could kill him, choking him like that.”

Wiping her sweaty hands on her sweatpants, she prayed for direction. She considered going out the bathroom door. Maybe she could sneak around the side of the mart and explain everything to the police, show them the back way into the store! But the locked storage room door would be a problem. As would leaving the kind couple at the mercy of Tom Perkins. The man who wouldn’t stop killing until he was free.