Searching for Secrets (4 page)

What could he want on a Saturday morning? "Yes. What is it, Kirk?" she asked.

"Can I come in for a minute?"

"Uh, sure. But I have to...I'll be right back." Christa ran the short distance to her bedroom, threw the damp towel on the foot of her bed, and grabbed her burgundy sweat pants from their hook on her closet door. She pulled them on, sans underwear, and found the matching top in a bureau drawer. She gave her wet hair a quick brushing and started for the front door, then stopped.

What was she doing? Just because Kirk Reynolds came to her door she was running around like a wild woman. She turned and walked slowly back to the bedroom, took off her sweats and dressed as she had planned to do for the day. Tan jeans with the narrow cuff at the ankle, a beige turtle neck with a pullover vest that had shades of deep purple and tan throughout. And underwear, of course. She added gold earrings and put moisture lotion on her face before applying her makeup base. OK, she wouldn't do her eyes or blow-dry her hair, but Christa Heckertt was not going to march to Kirk Reynolds' schedule. She slipped her feet into comfortable brown loafers and walked back to the door and opened it.

"I gather I've gotten you away from something," Kirk said, with an edge of sarcasm to his tone.

She could feel him studying the damp auburn hair that framed her face. "I figured if you buzzed five times it had to be important." She stood aside so he could enter her living room.

She watched Kirk take in the simple furnishings of the long room. He scanned the oak dining table and chairs in the small dining area, with the antique icebox sitting nearby, and then studied the sofa and loveseat with the small pattern of navy blue and rose. He scrutinized the several book shelves and his gaze lingered on the needlework she had sitting on the sofa.

He shook his head. "I would if we actually need them for evidence to prosecute somebody, but now I just need to get at them."

Christa regarded him. "I wasn't kidding when I said my kids had been all over those. There can't be any decent prints left."

"What about on the inside? Did you put it back together?"

Christa nodded. "It was only a matter of replacing the screws. I couldn't tell if he, or she, had disassembled any of the components, so I figured I'd put the housing back on and see if it worked."

He was really very persuasive. And besides, Christa thought, if they could identify who had tried to steal the hard drive, all the better. "Just give me a minute to dry my hair, and I'll go over there with you."

"Do you mind if Amy joins us?" he asked.

"Ah, now I see. You want your niece to have a special tour before her first day of school." She was half amused and half annoyed. If he'd asked her that, she would have been happy to oblige. This concern about her burglar was probably just a ruse to make the little girl happy.

"IT'LL GIVE FRANCES SOME MORE TIME to unpack," he said. Kirk's eyes followed Christa as she left the room. As soon as she saw her, he knew she had been in the shower when he knocked. He felt like a voyeur, and tried to quell the thought of her with water running down her perfectly shaped frame. All he wanted was to identify the people who seemed so interested in her school's computers. That was all, wasn't it?

CHRISTA LED THE WAY so that Kirk could see the most direct route to drive to Amy's new school. Since there was no one else there, they parked at the curb. Christa walked a few steps ahead and unlocked the main entrance. As she opened the door, she thought she felt a slight breeze from inside the building. How odd. She held the door and Kirk and Amy walked through.

"Amy, your classroom is around the corner to the right. As soon as I let your Uncle Kirk in my classroom, I'll walk around and show you the kindergarten room." Christa glanced sideways at Kirk as he held the little girl's hand. The child trusted him totally, and he seemed to deal with her so naturally. Christa felt an intense pang of longing, and pushed the thought from her mind.

As they neared her classroom, the breeze was more pronounced. Looking left, she saw that the bottom panel of one of the hallway windows had been broken. "Damn," she said, stooping to look at it. "Mrs. Macklin will be furious."

Kirk studied it. "If you think the custodian has some supplies anywhere, maybe we can find a piece of wood and I'll cover it."

Amy raised the hand of her doll and used it to give her uncle a gentle swat on the back of the hand. Kirk feigned fear of his stuffed attacker, and Amy smiled.

It was such a natural exchange that Christa felt a lump rising in her throat. Would she ever have a partner who was self-assured enough to be that playful with a child? She cleared her throat, unlocked the door to her classroom, and motioned that Kirk should enter. "There's a small screw driver in the pencil jar on my desk. The computer they took apart was the one on the far right."

She reached for Amy's hand, and the little girl willingly exchanged her uncle's hand for Christa's. "Come on. I don't know if Jennie's door is open, but if it's locked we can look in through the glass in the door."

She was such a precise little thing. Christa watched her eyes travel along the corridor, looking at the Halloween decorations and casting almost furtive glances in doorways as they passed them.

"I didn't realize you had a brother, Amy. Will he live with you and your mom?" Christa didn't imagine there would be room.

"Of course not. He's dead, silly."

Christa tried not to let her face show her surprise. Was this true, or did Amy have a powerful imagination? She decided to assume the little girl was telling the truth. "I'm very sorry. It's very sad when someone you love dies."

Amy said nothing. They had reached the kindergarten room, and Christa tried the door. She didn't want to ignore what Amy said, but she felt that it would be inappropriate to ask a lot of questions. Perhaps she should ask Kirk later. "It's locked, but we can look right in the glass in the door. I'll pick you up." She leaned over and put a hand under each of Amy's armpits, lifted her, and turned the lightweight child so she could peer in the room. Amy kept her grip tight on her rag doll. Christa supposed it was a source of comfort for her in an unfamiliar place.

"You see those apples made of construction paper, pasted along the far wall?" Amy nodded and Christa continued. "Each one has the name of a child in the class. That way you can start to recognize how the other kids’ names are spelled."

"Oh, look. Fish." Amy pressed her nose to the glass. "We had fish in my old classroom."

Christa heard a footstep behind her. That was funny; she thought Kirk was going to meet up with them in her classroom. She started to turn around when the pain attacked the back of her head. It seemed that someone was screaming. Then everything was black.

CHAPTER THREE

THE END OF THE TUNNEL was so far away, and every time Christa lifted her head and looked again it seemed to be even more distant. But wait, someone was helping her get there. Someone very strong. She could fly. But the flight made her dizzy. She moved her head so it was more firmly placed against the solid pillow.

"Come on, Christa, talk to me."

The man's voice implored her to speak, but Christa couldn't get any words out. No, that wasn't it. She could move her mouth. It was her eyes that didn't respond to her mind's commands.

He called her honey? This was new. She finally succeeded in opening her eyes part of the way. The view was a hazy one, partly because of the headache, and partly because Kirk was so close to her. Why was that? Were they lying next to each other? What was she lying on? It wasn't a pillow. It was his shoulder, and the warmth came from his body. "Oh." She opened her eyes more, and looked into his. "What is it?" she asked.

"Christa, they took Amy. What did you see?"

He looked frantic, and the urgency in his tone brought everything back to her. She had been lifting Amy to see into the kindergarten class, and then there was only pain in her head. "I...I don't think I saw anyone. I...we were looking into the classroom. I was holding her..." The exertion was too much, and she laid her head against his shoulder again. He had her on his lap, and they were sitting on the sofa in the school foyer. She heard police sirens growing closer.

"Don't wait for me. Go get her," she said, in a voice that was stronger than she felt.

"I can't." Kirk gently eased her off his lap and onto the sofa.

Before she could ask why, he sprang off the couch and opened the door to let two police officers and two emergency medical technicians into the school. She tried to sit up but couldn't, so she rolled to her side and listened to Kirk describe what little he knew.

"I was on the other side of the building. Amy screamed, and as I ran into the hall I heard this door slam." He gestured to the area where they were standing. "I ran out the door in time to see a brown Ford Taurus pulling away. I told the dispatcher to put out an APB. Damn!"

Kirk turned and was about to put his fist into the wall when the ambulance driver grabbed it and swung him around. "That won't help anything. Keep your cool." As he said this, the EMT saw Christa. "Jeez louise," he said, and picked up his first-aid bag from the floor and started toward her.

"I'm okay," she said as he sat next to her.

"I'll be the judge of that," the young man said.

Kirk looked back at her, and Christa wished there were a way she could erase the desperation in his eyes. "I wish I knew more," she almost whispered. "

He gave her a cold, unreadable stare and turned to face the officers again. "I tried to follow them, but our tires were slashed. Come on." He opened the door and gestured to the officers to follow him. "We'll take your car and hit the streets."

With that, the three men were gone and Christa was left with the two EMTs. After a thorough check, they gave her the option of going to the hospital, which they recommended, or going home if she would be with others all evening. She would, she lied. What she really wanted was to get to Frances King. Christa didn't want her to hear about her daughter's kidnapping on the radio.

The EMTs wanted to wait with her until a cab came, but Christa showed them that she could lock herself in the building for the few minutes. "I know you'll have other calls," she said, anxious for them to leave.

"Can we call someone for you, then?" one of them asked.

Christa wondered if they would have been a solicitous if she had been fifty-five and overweight. "I have no immediate family," she said, ignoring the pang of loneliness that arose whenever she said those simple words.

She wanted Frances King to have her family, so there was something important Christa had to do before she left the building, and it would only take about 10 minutes. Finally, the EMTs left. When the cab came 15 minutes later, she had the three hard drives out of the computers, each wrapped in one of the maps that usually hung on the wall in her classroom. It was all she could grab quickly; she wanted to keep them separate from one another. Whatever the kidnappers wanted, it had to do with the computers. She didn't want anyone getting these bargaining chips without returning Amy.

FRANCES KING RESPONDED CHEERFULLY to Christa's knock. "I wondered what kept you guys." She swung open the door and peered beyond Christa. "Where are they?"

"I think they'll be here shortly. May I come in?" Christa asked.

"Sure. Have a seat. I thought I was going to get a chance to talk to you again yesterday evening, but you high-tailed it out of here before I got Amy settled."

Christa felt a dull, cold ache in the center of her stomach. How could she tell this woman that her beautiful daughter was in danger? But, tell her she did.

"Where's Kirk?" Frances asked, in a near-whisper.

"He went with the other police to look for her." Christa searched for words. "Look. They don't really want her. They want those stupid computers. I'd love to give them to them." She pointed to the three awkwardly-wrapped parcels now sitting on Frances' loveseat. "Those are the hard drives from the computers. I'm certain they'll want to trade Amy for them." She reached over and took both of Frances' hands in hers. "She'll be okay. I just know it."