Читать книгу Kidnapped At Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Did you call the sheriff?” Meg asked, looking like her world had just tipped on its axis in the same way Wyatt’s just had. But there was no way he could care this much about a child he’d never met. He chalked his feelings up to sympathy for the mother and the heartbreaking situation.

“I did.” A woman stepped forward. She was young, mid-twenties, and clutching a small child’s hand. The little boy couldn’t be more than three or four years old. “I wish I’d seen more. I heard someone scream and ran over to see what happened. I was too late.”

Meg thanked her.

“He’s on his way.” Stephanie glanced around at the gathering crowd, looking bewildered. “There was a guy—he was wearing one of those forest green park-maintenance uniforms—and he said he saw everything before taking off in that direction.” She pointed east. “Said he’d be right back.”

Meg looked on the verge of crumpling. The more people who gathered around the less likely it would be for him or Meg to see someone escaping with the stroller. Wyatt glanced at Meg.

“What color stroller am I looking for?” he asked.

“Red with big wheels to take it jogging.” She glanced from him to Stephanie with the most sorrowful look on her face.

Wyatt glanced around at the small crowd. “Did any of you see anything unusual or anyone hurrying out of this area with a red stroller?” The odds were slim anyone would notice details like that, but it was worth asking.

Heads shook.

“There was a lot going on and the music was too loud. I was afraid to wake her, so I stayed back here by the benches. I was worried that Meg would text and I would miss it.” Stephanie sobbed.

“You did the right thing.” Wyatt had no idea what to say, but he wished he could make the situation okay for both of them. Stephanie seemed like a nice person and he already knew Meg was. At least she hadn’t been lying about there being a child. Obviously, there was. No one would go through this much trouble to set up a lie.

“Go. Look for her. I’m fine,” Stephanie said, trying to push to her feet. She wobbled and a Good Samaritan steadied her by grabbing her arm in time before she landed on her bottom. She thanked him.

“We’ll stay with her,” the woman with the child said.

“Did you see anything?” Wyatt asked Stephanie.

“No. I was walking with the stroller before I felt something hard hit the back of my head and then I blacked out. Next thing I knew the park worker was beside me asking if I was okay and I had a blinding headache.” She touched a spot behind her left ear.

Meg hopped onto a nearby bench and scanned the area.

“See anything up there?” Wyatt asked. He tried to convince himself that he’d feel this panicked whether the child might be his or not. An infant had been kidnapped, and he could admit that he still had residual feelings for the baby’s mother. The little girl didn’t have to belong to him for his heart to go out to Meg. If he could help her find her baby he would. And if she kept on insisting the baby was his, he’d ask for a DNA test before he got too worked up. Keeping a level head in challenging times had earned Wyatt his solid reputation in the business world and helped him expand to twenty-five locations. This was no different.

He joined Meg on the park bench. There were too many people spreading in all different directions. The ceremony had ended, which was the perfect time to execute this kind of crime because there was chaos while families exited the park area and spilled into the parking lot.

There was no way he was going to find the person responsible at this rate. He couldn’t justify standing around and watching all this heartbreak, either.

“Text me and let me know what the sheriff says. I have to do something,” Meg shouted to her friend, and he completely understood the sentiment. He was having the same conversation in his head.

Meg was on the verge of tears as she turned to look at him. “I don’t see any sign of her.”

“If I was going to commit the crime, I’d park in the closest spot.” He pointed to the nearest parking lot, which was slowly emptying. There was a line to exit, and the park’s location in the center of town off the main square caused traffic to move slowly. “Maybe we can spot your daughter in a car on the way out of the lot.”

“It’s worth a try.” Meg sounded hopeless as he held out his hand. She took it. A simple gesture really, but when their hands made contact a fire bolt shot straight up his arm. He ignored it as best he could and took off running. With their hands linked, Meg kept pace and he was pretty sure it was from pure adrenaline.

“Maybe there,” she said through gulps of air as they darted toward the light that regulated the exit. “I see the handle of a stroller in the back window and it’s red.”

Wyatt let her hand loose so he could push forward and catch the white minivan before the light turned and the vehicle disappeared. From this angle, he couldn’t get a good look at the plate. He pushed his legs harder, leaving Meg several strides behind. If he could get to the minivan in time maybe he could put this whole ordeal to rest.

The minivan was close, but the light could turn at any second. Wyatt pushed harder until his thighs burned and his lungs threatened to burst. He could see there was only a driver and the figure was large enough to be male.

“Hold on,” he shouted to the van’s driver. The window was up and the man didn’t so much as flinch.

As the light changed, Wyatt closed in on the van. He was so close. Dammit. There were three cars ahead of the minivan, not close enough for Wyatt to catch. The cars moved and the minivan turned left, which was the opposite side of Wyatt. What an unlucky break.

Wyatt shot in between two cars. One of the drivers laid on his horn and shouted a few terse words. Wyatt had no idea where Meg was and he didn’t risk turning back to look. The minivan was going at least thirty-five miles an hour. If he could catch a break and the light at the corner turned to red... Scratch that. Wyatt had never been lucky and that’s how he’d learned to work hard for everything he’d built.

Brake lights renewed his hope as he turned on the speed he’d known as a runner in high school. Although that had been a long time ago, he worked out and kept in shape.

The van disappeared around the corner before the light changed.

“Wyatt.” Meg’s voice rippled through him. There was a mix of hope and relief in the sound of her tone. “I got her.”

He immediately turned tail and saw a man in a forest green uniform standing next to Meg, who was holding a baby. He made a beeline toward the trio, driven by something deep inside. Was it a primal need to see if her child belonged to him? Would he even be able to tell by looking at her one time?

Meg stood there, baby pressed to her chest and her face awash with relief. She was gently rocking the crying infant. An odd thought hit: No one had better get close to her or the baby. He was struck with something else that felt a lot like longing, but Wyatt didn’t go there. He’d missed Meg. He could own up to it. That’s as far as his feelings went, he reminded himself.

“I’m Wyatt Jackson.” He stuck out his hand to the park worker. “And I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”

The man bent forward, panting as he took the outstretched hand. “Name’s Cecil. And I’m just—” he paused to take a breath “—glad I was there to help.” Cecil grabbed at his right side. “He got away, ditched the stroller by pushing it toward traffic. I had to make a choice to save her or catch him.” He paused long enough to take in another breath. “His back was to me the whole time. I couldn’t get a good look at his face.”

“You did the right thing, Cecil.” Relief washed over Wyatt. This morning had been right up there with... He didn’t want to think about the other depressing event that came with the holidays.

The baby was in her mother’s arms, safe. Crisis averted. That was all he would allow himself to focus on.

“Are you okay to walk?” he asked Cecil.

The man nodded.

The crime scene had been cordoned off, and a deputy was asking people to go back to work or home. Stephanie flew toward Meg and the baby; tears streamed down both women’s faces.

A man by the name of Clarence Sawmill introduced himself as the sheriff. Cecil recounted his story to Sawmill, who shook his head as he recorded details. His lips formed a grim line. Middle-aged, his eyes had the white outline of sunglasses on otherwise tanned skin. Deep grooves in his forehead and hard brackets around his mouth outlined the man’s stress levels. He was on high alert and, from the looks of him, had been since news broke of Maverick Mike’s death five months ago.

“Our family-oriented town doesn’t usually see much of a spike in crime.” Sawmill shook his head. For a split second his gaze stopped on Wyatt and he seemed to be sizing him up. The sheriff looked like he hadn’t slept in as many months and he probably hadn’t, considering Mike Butler’s murder still hadn’t been solved. Sawmill seemed like the kind of guy who would take his citizens’ welfare to heart.

The sheriff was holding an evidence bag.

“What did you find?” Wyatt asked.

“A child’s hair ribbon. It’s probably not connected. More than likely came out of a little girl’s hair while she was attending the tree lighting.” Sawmill pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stem a raging headache. “My deputies will process the scene and we’ll keep you posted if anything relevant turns up.”

Meg thanked the sheriff as she gently bounced the baby, who had settled down in her mother’s comforting arms. He had to admit Meg seemed content with the job of mother.

The sheriff asked Meg a few routine-sounding questions. Her body language tensed when she spoke to Sawmill, but Wyatt figured it was justifiable under the circumstances. She was being asked if there was a reason anyone she knew would try to kidnap her infant child.

“We have a potential witness already on his way to the station to work with a sketch artist while the details are still fresh,” Sawmill said. “We’ll want you to come in and take a look as soon as we have an image in case you can identify him.”

Given the person had tried to take the baby while she was with Stephanie, Wyatt doubted that was likely.

Even so, he planned to reschedule his meeting with the Butler family lawyer. This day had taken unexpected turn after unexpected turn and, after getting a good look at Meg’s daughter, he had a feeling the day wasn’t done with him yet.

* * *

DINNER WAS HOURS away and yet all Meg wished for was a hot bath, a warm bed and sleep. Wyatt had said he’d been called away to a meeting, but Meg figured he needed air after the day’s events. Meg and Stephanie returned to the office since it was closer to the sheriff’s office and Aubrey had a pack-and-play crib there.

Stephanie had insisted on sticking around even though Meg had begged her friend to go to the ER instead. The most she would agree to was allowing an EMT to check her out at the scene.

“How’s your head?” Meg asked her friend.

“It’s been worse,” Stephanie said with a crooked smile.

“I still think we should swing by the hospital,” Meg said.

“My name is Stephanie Gable. It’s three weeks until Christmas. I live at 1212 Farm Road 236. With you, who should learn to relax a little more and stop washing every dish before it hits the sink, by the way.” She made eyes at Meg. “How’s that?”

“I think you took a bigger hit than we first thought,” she quipped, and they both smiled. Meg’s died on her lips the minute her cell rang.

A glance at the screen said it was the sheriff’s office. She took the call.

“We have an image to work with but, to be honest, it isn’t much to go on,” he said. Any hope this case could be sewn up and a criminal taken off the streets soon died.

“I’ll let Wyatt know and we’ll be there as soon as we can,” she informed him before ending the call and texting Wyatt.

An immediate response came: Stay where you are and I’ll pick you up.

“What did the sheriff say?” Stephanie was studying Meg’s reaction.

“He didn’t sound encouraged,” Meg admitted.

“We’ll figure this out.” Her friend’s words were meant to reassure, but did nothing to ease the knot braiding her stomach.

Meg glanced down at her sleeping baby. She’d been unable to move from the little girl’s side since... Meg couldn’t even think about what had happened, what could have happened, without tears springing to her eyes. She was so grateful to have her daughter back where she belonged.

What kind of person tried to take a baby from her mother three weeks before Christmas? Granted, the person had tried to take the little girl from Stephanie, but the attacker didn’t know the difference.

Skipping lunch had been a bad idea even though Meg doubted she could get or keep anything down. A headache was trying to form in the spot right between her eyes.

Within fifteen minutes, Aubrey had been fed and the diaper bag packed.

“He’s on his way?” Stephanie paced in the kitchenette of their office.

“He should be here any minute.” Meg cradled the warm, sleeping baby in her arms. Her miracle, considering she’d never expected to have a traditional life of marriage and a family. “You should sit down.”

Stephanie shot her an apprehensive look.

“Well, then maybe you should rethink going to the hospital to get checked out.” Meg eyed the cup of coffee in Stephanie’s shaking hand, wishing her friend had gone for the calming tea, instead.

“The ibuprofen is already kicking in. I’ll be fine. I’m just so glad...” Another stream of tears slid down Stephanie’s cheeks. She turned her back and sniffed.

“Let’s not even go there. None of this is your fault.” Meg held her baby a little closer. “And she’s right here. Fine. Look at her.”

A knock on the glass out front startled them both.

“That’s probably him,” Meg said.

“Stay right here. I’ll check.” Stephanie was out of the room in a flash and Meg figured her friend needed to work off some of her stress energy. The adrenaline would wear off soon, and she was afraid Stephanie was in for one monster headache when it did.

Her own nerves were on edge after the day’s events and thinking about seeing Wyatt again didn’t help. Based on his actions earlier, he planned to be in Aubrey’s life, and Meg would have to get used to her body’s reaction to him. Her heart seized a little bit at the thought he didn’t want to be in hers, too. What did she expect?

Sure, they’d connected last year with chemistry she’d never experienced before, and that spark between them, mentally and physically, had produced amazingly hot sex. And a baby, a little voice reminded, grounding her.

“Ready?” Wyatt examined her and the baby in her arms. He was the kind of man who would do the right thing by his child no matter how he felt personally about the child’s mother. On the one hand, there was something encouraging about the sentiment. At least Aubrey would have a father.

Meg stood and reached for the diaper bag. Wyatt moved beside her in a beat, taking it from her. He hadn’t asked to hold the baby yet, and this was the closest he’d been to her since they’d found her. Not exactly encouraging, but it could’ve been so much worse.

Based on the crease in his forehead, the one he got when he was deeply contemplating something, he needed a little time to process. His daughter had almost been kidnapped.

“Wyatt, meet your daughter, Aubrey,” Meg said.

A flash of emotion passed behind his eyes as he looked at her but he seemed to get hold of it. “She’s a pretty little girl.”

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them arrived at the sheriff’s office.

Janis, the sheriff’s receptionist, rose to her feet. “We’ve spoken on the phone a few times. Come on in. The sheriff is waiting for you.” She wrapped Meg and the baby in a big hug before leading them down the hall.

Sawmill got to his feet and extended his hand. “Please, sit down.”

The sheriff’s office was large, simple. There was a huge mahogany desk with an executive chair and two flags on poles standing sentinel to either side. A picture of the governor was centered in between the poles. Two smaller-scale leather chairs nestled up to the desk. A sofa and table with a bronze statue of a bull rider on a bull were on the other side of the room. Meg and Stephanie took the leather chairs across the sheriff’s desk. Wyatt stood a few feet behind Meg’s chair, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

“I wish I could remember more about the man who attacked me. I’m just so glad everything turned out okay.” Stephanie’s shoulders seemed set in a forward slump. She shot another apologetic look at Meg as more tears welled.

“You were brave today. Without you, this could’ve turned out very differently,” Wyatt said, and there was admiration in his otherwise tight voice. It was probably easier for him to sympathize with Stephanie, or anyone who wasn’t Meg considering the bomb she’d dropped on him.

He put his hand on Meg’s shoulder and she ignored the sensual zing of electricity that always came with his touch. After a year, it hadn’t dimmed and that caught her off guard. She’d had the same reaction in the parking lot of the restaurant but was too stressed to acknowledge it.

“Mr. Daron, the park worker, gave the sketch artist very little to work with, so we’re hopeful his build will seem familiar to one of you.” Sawmill picked up a folder on top of a stack of papers on his desk. He showed them the sketch.

Stephanie balked. “He could be half the town. I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup if he was standing right in front of me and I actually knew what he looked like.”

Meg stared at the image. It was like a bomb exploded in her brain and yet she had no idea why. She could feel Sawmill’s eyes on her, examining her. The blast from the past nearly crippled her. She remembered being in this very office, although the furniture was different then. There had been a different person in the chair opposite her and an overenthusiastic rookie investigator grilling her for answers.

A scared ten-year-old had sat in the chair in Meg’s place. Being here, sitting in this very spot caused a lot of bad memories to crash down around her.

Meg took in a fortifying breath. She was no longer an innocent kid being railroaded by a system that too often protected criminals’ rights more than victims’. Besides, she’d grown into a woman. Everything in her life had changed since then.

The baby stirred in her arms and looked like she was winding up to cry. Like a balloon deflating, she blew out a breath and made a sucking noise before settling into her mother’s arms again.

Meg forced the old thoughts out of her mind—thoughts that had her feeling vulnerable and alone.

“I don’t know. Nothing about him looks familiar at all and yet I feel like I should know who he is.” She scooted closer to the image, but Sawmill was already up and coming around his desk with the paper in hand.

She took the drawing from him and studied it. Her brain hurt from thinking so hard and she was coming up empty. “All I’m getting is a headache.”

But then Stephanie had been the one with Aubrey when she’d been taken. She turned to her friend. “Does he look familiar to you?”

“You’ve never seen him before?” Sawmill said to Meg, a hauntingly similar note of disappointment in his voice. He had been hoping for better news, based on his tone.

Meg pushed but nothing came except more pain that felt a lot like a brain cramp. “I’m sorry.”

Sawmill turned to Stephanie. “What about you, Ms. Gable? Do you know anyone with a similar shape or build?”

She was already shaking her head before he finished his question. “No, sir. Not one person in particular.”

“Do you have any idea what age he might be?” Wyatt asked.

“Twenty-five to forty-five,” the sheriff supplied.

Not exactly reassuring.

“There must be more to go on than that,” Wyatt said. All signs of his casual swagger were gone, replaced by chiseled facade.

“White, male,” the sheriff added.

“What about the hair ribbon?” Meg asked, hoping for some good news. “Is it connected to the case?”

“There’s no information from forensics yet, ma’am. It might take a few weeks. I called in a favor to see if the results can be fast-tracked. The town’s been through enough already without citizens feeling like their families are no longer safe here.” The flash of frustration was quickly replaced by determination.

Meg studied the image on the paper in front of her. Fear rippled through her. But why? What was it about him? Was it the fact that this man had tried to kidnap her daughter? Those words were like gut punches.

There was something hauntingly familiar about the outline of his face. But Meg was certain she’d never seen this man before...

Right?