THE CRADLE CONSPIRACY (17 page)

She leaned her head back against the leather seat. Her life as Pamela Winter ended here. Today. The terrified wife and mother were gone. A new woman had discovered strength enough to leave the past behind and begin again.

In a strange way, thanks to Olivia Harrison.

She picked up her cell phone and dialed her son’s number.

“I have them,” Christopher answered. “We’ve won, Mother. No one can take my girls away from me now. Not once I kill them all.”

“Even her bodyguard?” Pamela asked.

Christopher lowered his voice. “Yeah. He’s not so tough.”

“Find out who else knows anything about our plans, then kill them. We’ll save your daughters together. No one will ever steal them again.” She studied the phone in her hand. This would be her last conversation with Christopher. She refused to regret it. He’d become just like his father.

Pamela glanced in the backseat. A box of dynamite sat in the floorboard. She’d hated her husband’s business. She’d liked the money, but she’d hated being dirty and grimy. The only good thing about having to work with him in those early days was that she’d learned how to blow a hole in the ground.

She could blow a hole in this house.

The perfect plan. The perfect scapegoat.

“I’m going to enjoy this.”

She recognized the eagerness in her son’s voice. She remembered that same tone when he’d headed out for his hunting trips. She shivered. Her son was as certifiable as his father.

“We can’t attract attention. I’m a half hour away, honey. Can you wait until dark? Better cover that way.”

“I’ll wait. You have the babies?”

“All packed up. We’ll leave as soon as I get there.” Pamela tossed the phone in the passenger’s seat and picked up a throwaway cell she’d purchased at a drug store. She pocketed it and exited the vehicle.

A large dog stuck his nose out of a window of another SUV parked in front of Harrison’s house. A deep bark escaped from him, then another.

Pamela froze. She looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention. She stood still for several moments. Christopher didn’t come to the door. They obviously couldn’t hear the mutt inside the house.

She threw a rock at the car. The dog ducked down, then returned, still barking.

Damn it. She wouldn’t have much time. Eventually the stupid canine would attract attention.

Ignoring the dog, she went to work. Within minutes she’d taken the box to the back of the house. Wayne Harrison had made it easy to stay hidden, with all the trees in his yard.

Within seconds she’d placed three of the four charges.

She stepped back and dialed 9-1-1.

“What’s your emergency?” the voice asked.

A sob escaped Pamela’s throat. “Please, please. Help. He’s going to kill her. I know he is.”

“Who are you talking about, ma’am?”

“My son. He’s crazy. He just got out of the army. He wants to kill that woman I saw on the news. The woman without a memory. Her name is Olivia Harrison. He said he was going to kill her and her husband. I know he’s going to their house. You have to stop him. He’s taken my husband’s gun and dynamite. He’s going to kill them.”

“Ma’am—”

With a smile, Pamela ended the call and tossed the phone on the last explosives. She bent down and set the final charge.

Soon her family would be safe. Her real family. Hope and Christina. Everything would be fine this time.

She was starting over.

* * *

T
HE
STEEL
DOOR
slammed, and a lock turned. A small sliver of light filtered on the side of the darkening blinds from the single window near the ceiling.

Raven clutched Daniel’s hands. Even in the dimness, his eyes were wild, with that same look she’d seen above the wash.

“Not a dungeon,” he whispered. “A wine cellar. A wine cellar.”

She cupped his face between her hands, desperate for him to see her, not those nightmarish visions. “You fought this battle once, Daniel. You can do it again. Look at me.”

Daniel blinked, and the faraway look in his eyes cleared. He stared down at her, his hazel eyes holding her captive. He cupped her cheek. “Thank you. I’m back.”

“I know,” she said. “You always come back.”

He didn’t respond, and she prayed he believed her, but something told her Daniel would never be satisfied until the episodes never returned. She didn’t know a lot about PTSD, but she couldn’t imagine it was something that just stopped one day.

“We have to get out of here.” Daniel grabbed the window jamb and lifted himself up, tearing down the covering. It didn’t help much with the sun setting, but at least they could see the room more clearly. Several shelves lined the stone walls with bottle after bottle of wine. A few boxes were stacked in the corner, but there wasn’t much else in the room.

“I think you can fit through this window, Raven. I got a signal off to Noah. He should be here soon, but I won’t take a chance with your life.”

“What about Hope?” she asked, gnawing on her lower lip. “He knows where she is. He has to.”

“Once we’re out of here and have backup, we’ll get the information out of him. No matter what it takes.” Daniel jumped down. “I need something to break the glass.”

The wine bottles wouldn’t cut it. Raven walked the edge of the room. They could break the shelves apart and hope the noise didn’t attract attention. Or...

She grabbed a fire extinguisher from the corner. “Will this work?”

He grabbed her face and kissed her. “Brilliant.” He held the extinguisher and looked around. “It’ll make a lot of noise.” He lifted a wine bottle and swung it down against the rack, shattering the end and leaving a jagged weapon behind.

They both held their breath, but the steel door didn’t open.

“It’ll be ten times worse when I break the window.” He handed the broken bottle to Raven. “If that bastard opens the door don’t hesitate. Do as much damage as you can.”

Raven wouldn’t have considered herself bloodthirsty, but after what that man had done, she didn’t think she’d lose sleep if she had to carve up his face. Raven crouched near the door, clutching the neck of the jagged bottle with a death grip.

Daniel cleared the bottom two shelves and rigged a stool from the wooden parts. “This is it.” He stepped up and heaved the extinguisher at the glass.

It shattered.

Using his jacket to protect his skin, Daniel shoved aside the remaining shards. “Okay, darlin’. Let’s get you out of here. Noah should be here soon. Call the cops from a neighbor’s house and hide until they get here.”

She hesitated. “What about you?” Even she could tell Daniel couldn’t get his shoulders through the small window.

“I’ll be fine.”

Without another word, Daniel hefted Raven up. She stuck her head out of the window and let out a strangled gasp.

Wave upon wave of memories pummeled her. Unable to bear the agony, she let go and slid back into Daniel’s arms, sagging against him.

“My God, you look like you’re going to faint. What happened?”

Raven could barely catch her breath. “The woman outside,” she panted. “I recognize her. Pamela Winter. She’s the one who tried to kill me. She’s the one who buried me alive.” Raven gripped Daniel’s shirt. “And I saw dynamite.”

Chapter Twelve

Daniel hitched himself to see out the window. Sure enough, a woman in a designer suit held the ends of four wires and a detonator in her hands. He followed one of the wires to a bundle of dynamite. “She’s going to blow the place,” he hissed.

Suddenly, as if sensing their presence, she raised her head and searched her surroundings, her gaze narrow and suspicious.

“Lift me up,” Raven ordered. “Maybe I can make her see sense.”

They didn’t have anything to lose.

“Pamela!” Raven yelled. “Don’t do this. We can work it out.”

“It’s too late,” Pamela bit out. “You wouldn’t help me. You wanted to find out more damned information while my baby was dying. Now I’m claiming my family and yours.”

“But—”

She slammed down the ancient dynamite blaster.

In a split second, Daniel grabbed Raven by the waist and threw them both behind one of the heavy wine racks, wedging themselves between the solid wood back and the stone wall. He sent up a small prayer for Raven and covered her with his body.

An explosion erupted, shaking the earth, then a second, third and fourth followed.

Dirt rained down, but the stone walls didn’t crumble. The wine rack swayed and fell back, angled against the wall, but it held, making a small canopy over their hiding place.

Soon an odd quiet settled over them. Daniel pushed aside the wine rack and looked around. He peered outside the window. Black smoke poured from the house.

He stared around the small stone room. “The dungeon saved us,” he muttered. The irony of it all. Christopher may have saved their lives by locking them away. But they weren’t safe yet.

Daniel rushed to the steel door and placed his hand onto it. Heat burned his palm, and he snatched his hand away. “We have to get out of here.”

He looked down. Smoke filtered in under the door.

“What about Wayne?” Raven asked.

Daniel pointed to the foggy tendrils. “The fire’s already here. We can’t open the door. If Wayne survived, they’re already out.”

Her eyes widened. She gave a sharp nod. She knew. Both men were probably dead.

Daniel bent down below the window and folded his hands together. “Come on. Climb through that window.”

He heaved her up, and she squeezed her torso through the window. The smoke formed a wall behind Daniel, like a death call. He coughed. They were out of time.

“Hurry,” he said as the smoke rose, pushing her hips through the small opening. Suddenly Raven slipped from his hands.

“Daniel, are you in there?”

At Noah’s shout, Daniel sent up a prayer of thanks. He hefted himself up. “Get her out of here,” he said, coughing.

“She’s fine,” Noah said. Daniel’s shoulders struck against the window jamb. He sucked in a breath of air. “Get a crowbar.”

Noah took off. Smoke billowed into the room on either side of him. He blinked back the stinging from his eyes.

“Hold your breath and move out of the way,” Noah said. “I’ll be as fast as I can. I only need a few inches.”

Daniel released his hold and fell back into the wine cellar. The smoke had gotten so thick he couldn’t see anything. He kept one hand on the jamb. If he let go, he could die in here.

“Back away, Daniel! We have a sledgehammer.”

Keeping his hand against the stone wall, Daniel eased away. His lungs burned. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer.

The wall shook. Two strikes later, stone crumbled over him. “That’s it!” Noah yelled. “Get out here!” he shouted through a series of coughs.

Spots in front of his eyes, Daniel followed his touch to the opening. His hands curved over the window’s edge and two hands grabbed him, dragging him out of the burning building.

Noah didn’t stop until he’d dragged Daniel ten feet away, then he fell back onto his butt.

Daniel sucked in a lungful of air, and a coughing fit hit.

“Damn, you almost ended up as barbecue,” Noah said. “How did you avoid that?”

Blinking the smoke out of his eyes, Daniel stared at the inferno Wayne Harrison’s house had become. Fire spewed into the sky; black smoke billowed upward. “Stone wine cellar. Strongest room in the house,” he said, still coughing as his gaze swept through the rescue personnel, looking for one dark-haired woman. “Where’s Raven?”

“Paramedics have her.”

Daniel stumbled to his feet. “Is she going to be all right?”

He scanned the chaotic scene and headed to the emergency vehicles. His heart raced, and then he saw her, face smudged, an oxygen mask on, Trouble at her feet—but she was safe.

Daniel’s knees buckled in relief, and Noah grabbed his arm.

A fireman ran up to them. “Anyone left in there?”

Noah nodded. “Two. In the basement adjacent to the room where you found us. The door was hot.”

The man nodded and ran toward his teammates, and Daniel lurched toward Raven. He knelt in front of her. “You’re okay?”

“You saved me. Again.”

Daniel hugged close the woman who’d once more almost died because of him. “Thank God you’re all right.”

“Do you know who did this?” Noah asked.

“Her name is Pamela Winter,” Raven said. She met Daniel’s gaze, her eyelashes wet with tears. “I remember. The moment I saw Pamela, I remembered everything.”

* * *

P
AMELA
RUBBED
HER
face with her hands. She should have used a timer. Stupid mistake. The explosion had sent debris flying, shattering her windshield. She’d wasted precious minutes taking back streets so she wouldn’t get stopped by the cops.

Finally she’d reached the exchange point, dumping the stolen SUV for the car Hector had set up. The car she’d take north to her new life.

Pamela didn’t bother parking in long-term. She had to get her daughters and leave.

Now that everyone who could steal her life was dead, everything would be okay. Christina would get well. She and her daughters would live the good life. Away from Trouble, Texas.

She tapped her foot waiting for the elevator. Finally the metal doors slid open. She pressed the number for the pediatric floor. This would be the hardest part, getting the girls out without anyone seeing.

She might have to put them in a laundry cart. She’d attract attention with two babies in her arms.

The doors slid open, and she walked past the nurses’ station.

“Mrs. Winter?” A solemn-faced nurse flagged her down. “I need you to come with me.”

Pamela’s throat closed. They couldn’t possibly know anything. Olivia and Wayne Harrison were dead. Christopher was dead. She was home free. She struggled to tamp down the panic.

“After I make sure my daughters are all right.” Pamela quickened her pace down the hall.

The nurse followed. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

When Pamela reached the small room with two cribs, she skidded to a halt. One was empty.

“Where’s Christina?” Pamela whirled around at the nurse, wanting to strike out.
“Where’s my daughter?”

The nurse stepped back warily. “She’s in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. She developed a heart arrhythmia. They’re doing everything they can to stabilize her.”

* * *

T
HE
FIRE
HOSES
sent several arcs of water onto the burning house, and the sky filled with hissing steam. Despite the firefighters’ efforts, the conflagration continued to crackle and burn. Smoke stung Raven’s eyes. She still couldn’t believe Pamela Winter had done this.

Daniel stood at the edge of the emergency vehicles talking urgently to one of the cops. They shook hands, and Daniel strode over to her. “They’ve put out an APB on Pamela, but I had to tell him I didn’t know the identity of the man who locked us in the wine cellar. They’ll want to talk to you.”

She tapped her temple. “I’ve seen him before...or I’ve seen his picture, but where?” She grabbed her head. “Why won’t my memory work?”

Daniel squatted down in front of her. “It’ll come to you, but for now, do you have any idea where Pamela went?”

Raven bit her lip. “Try the hospitals. Search for Christina Winter.”

“Who is that?”

“Chelsea’s daughter.” Raven rose and paced back and forth. “Pamela called me and told me that Chelsea had given birth to twins. I never knew, Daniel. If there had been two, I would have taken both of them. She told me that her daughter was ill and that Hope might be able to help. I agreed to a blood test so they could determine if the girls matched. They more than matched. They’re identical.”

Two firefighters let out a shout and raced away from Wayne’s house. A wall fell, and the flames licked at least twenty feet in the air. The lot had turned to hell.

“Pamela invited me to her house to meet her daughter. I brought Hope.” She shook her head. “If only I hadn’t taken her with me.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Daniel interrupted.

“When I got there, Pamela started talking about surgery and anesthesia. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t sign a consent form without getting an opinion. Hope was only eighteen months old. I needed to understand the risks.”

Raven clutched the locket. “She went crazy, starting screaming and yelling about how I was killing her daughter. I got upset and tried to leave, but she screamed, ‘No!’ Then she shoved me.” Raven pressed her hand to her forehead. “That’s the last thing I remember until I awoke trapped in the mine. I’m so lucky you found me.”

Daniel motioned to the cop and gave him Christina’s name. Raven’s eyes widened. “I just remembered where I saw the guy from the basement. His picture was on Pamela’s wall.”

“Really?” Daniel tugged out his phone and tapped in a few lines. Within seconds he turned the phone around, showing her a graduation photo. “Christopher Winter. He was Pamela’s son.”

“She killed her own son? Oh, God, she really is crazy. And she has Hope. And Christina.”

Noah raced over to them, his expression grim.

Raven bit her lip. “What’s wrong?”

“They found Hope,” Noah said. “She’s in the hospital.” He frowned. “Unfortunately Christina is in intensive care.”

Daniel grasped Raven’s elbow and guided her toward the SUV. “Then that’s where we’re going. Tell the cops. I hope they intercept Pamela before she gets to the twins.”

* * *

“C
HRISTINA
CAN
’
T
BE
in ICU,” Pamela insisted, her desperation mounting. “She was doing fine earlier.”

“I’m sorry.” The nurse gave Pamela’s back a comforting pat, and Pamela fought to keep herself from shoving the stupid woman away.

“The doctor wants to make sure she’s stable enough for the procedure tomorrow. She was definitely struggling for a while. He wants her in ICU so she’ll have constant monitoring and extra care to prepare for the bone marrow transplant. It’s not her first arrhythmia, but this bout took a lot out of her.”

Pamela rubbed her arms to ward off the chill of the nurse’s words. “But Christina is stable now?”

“Yes. For the past hour. I just checked on her progress.”

Pamela clenched her fists. Damn it, she’d been
so
close to getting the babies away. She paused. If Christina wasn’t in immediate danger, then maybe the plan would still work.
If
Pamela could get her daughter out of the ICU. Of course, the unit had ridiculously tight controls and constant monitoring, but Pamela had a gun.

No contest on who would win that one.

“Can I see her?”

The nurse smiled. “I’ll take you.”

Pamela glanced over at Hope, the girl’s bone marrow the cure for her deathly ill daughter. Taking the eighteen-month-old into ICU wasn’t an option. Pamela would have to come back for Hope.

Pamela followed the nurse down the hall. She buzzed into ICU, and they stepped inside.

“I’d like to see Christina Winter.”

“You’ll have to put on scrubs and a mask first.”

After dressing, Pamela walked to the sixth crib. They’d attached Christina to a heart monitor and an IV. “Can I be alone with her?”

“You have five minutes. That’s it until next hour.”

After the nurse left, Pamela glanced down at her gown. She’d grabbed the largest one possible. Was it big enough to hide a too-small baby? It had to be.

Pamela leaned down to Christina. “Mommy’s going to get you out of here.”

Her daughter’s eyes blinked, and she smiled at her mother, a weak smile, but the baby reached out her hand and gripped Pamela’s finger.

Her adrenaline was racing. “Mommy can do this, baby girl.” Pamela had to time everything perfectly. If they turned their backs, she could rush out.

Her own heart pounding, she twisted one of the EKG wires until it snapped. A monitor screeched, and Pamela threw open the curtain. “Something’s wrong. Please, help her.”

The nurse rushed into the room and silenced the machine.

“She was thrashing a bit, and then the monitor went off,” Pamela said.

“One of the wires is damaged. I’ll find another set and be right back.” The nurse smiled. “She should be okay. It will only take a few minutes to hook her up.”

“Thank you,” Pamela said.

The nurse closed the curtain behind her.

Pamela unhooked the IV. Christina cried a bit, but Pamela tucked the baby against her chest, wrapping her in a blanket. Most people wouldn’t stop someone in hospital clothes if they were in a hurry. She thought she heard the sound of sirens in the distance and panicked for a minute, then realized it was probably an ambulance heading for the E.R.

She held the baby close and grabbed the fabric curtain, wondering if the nurse had returned yet.

Suddenly a speaker squawked above her. “Code Black. This is not a drill. Code Black.”

A vise clamped around her chest. What did that mean? Was someone dying?

She peeked around the curtain.

Two policemen entered ICU, and the nurse pointed at Pamela.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

Pamela lunged through the curtain, clasping the baby to her. She bolted for the elevator.

One of the cops veered to the left to head her off. “Ma’am. You have to stop.”

The nurse picked up the phone. “Security. Pamela Winter is in PICU. She has taken her daughter.”