Читать книгу A Warrior's Mission - Rita Herron - Страница 11

Late November

Where was her baby?

It had been four months since he’d gone missing. She’d thought for sure she’d have him back in her arms by Thanksgiving. Now Thanksgiving had come and gone.

Holly sat on the edge of her seat in her father’s study, twisting her sweating hands together, as she waited on him to finish the phone call.

Something was wrong.

She saw it in the way her father pulled at his chin and angled his face away from her. Between his hushed phone calls with the FBI and local police the past few days, the barrage of extra security on the house, the press hounding them and the claustrophobic feel of hiding out between the walls of the mansion for the past four months, her nerves had reached the hysteria level.

Why hadn’t they received a ransom note?

Why hadn’t someone called with information? And why didn’t her father tell her everything that was going on?

With every day that passed, the chances of finding her son grew slimmer and slimmer. She wasn’t sure she could take it anymore.

Her father dropped the phone into its cradle, sighed and pivoted in his leather chair to face her. His expression looked worried, but commanding, as always. Once again, she sensed he was holding back, hiding things from her. Why?

“Did they find anything?”

Her father shook his head slowly, drumming fingers on his chin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no news.”

“There’s something,” Holly said, her voice a mere whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, Daddy. Now, tell me.”

He hesitated, then looked back at Holly’s mother, who had moved to stand behind him, one delicate hand placed on his shoulder. Her mother—the weaker one on the surface, but behind the scenes, the rock of the family, the one always offering support.

“I’m afraid the FBI’s ready to call this a cold case. They’ll leave the phone surveillance intact, but may have to pull back some on the investigation. Other cases…”

He let the sentence trail off and Holly sucked in a sharp breath. “They can’t give up.”

“I didn’t say they were giving up,” her father said. “Just pulling back. And ICU is still on the case.”

Holly glared at her dad. “What are you keeping from me? They found him, didn’t they? They found him and he’s dead, but you’re afraid to tell me.”

“No, Holly, good Lord. Calm down.” Her father raked a hand over his face. “There’s really no other news. I wish there was.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth to calm her emotions. She couldn’t stand the waiting. And her father knew more than he was confiding in her. She was certain of it.

The tension between them had been almost unbearable, since her confrontation with Night. During her pregnancy, Holly had suspected that her father had had some part in keeping Night away from her. Lately she had even wondered if he had orchestrated Schyler’s disappearance to punish her or teach her a lesson for seducing Night, or to gain sympathy for Joshua’s campaign. Politics meant everything to her father. But now Joshua had won the election. If that had been the motive for the kidnapping, there was no longer a reason to keep Sky from home.

Sometimes, her dad seemed genuinely concerned, as if he was really worried about her and his grandchild. As if he feared some horrible thing had happened to her baby. But he had been keeping the details of the case from her, treating her like a child, and she couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You know, sweetheart,” he said in a low tone, “you…we all might have to come to terms with the fact that we might never find Schyler.”

“What?” Holly gasped. She must have heard him wrong.

Celia pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, then moved toward Holly, reaching out her arms. “I don’t want to hear that either,” she said. “But your father’s right. This ordeal is killing you, I can see it—”

Tears burned Holly’s eyes. “You don’t care if we get my baby back!”

“That’s not true and you know it, Holly,” Celia said in a more forceful voice. “But it’s tearing us all apart, the three of us are on pins and needles. I can’t handle watching you suffer so. I see you wake up every day with hope, then go to bed with it shattered at night. You’re not eating, not sleeping.”

Holly’s throat constricted. “How can I sleep and eat when my son is missing?”

Her father stood, shook his head and stared out the window at the gardens beyond. “We’ve done everything we can do.”

“No!” Her heart broke at his words. “I will never accept that my baby’s not coming back. Never.”

Holly backed toward the door, then spun around and ran from the room, tears blinding her as she took the steps two at a time to the empty nursery.

HER BABY NEEDED HER..

Holly rolled over and squinted through the darkened interior of her bedroom, the sound of her son’s cry warming her. He was safe and sound in his crib, but he needed feeding. Again. She hadn’t realized how often infants ate, how exhausting it would be to care for a baby.

How precious every moment she had with him was until she’d lost him.

She appreciated it now—now he’d been found and brought back to her.

Regardless of the fact that she’d just fallen asleep, Holly tossed the duvet aside, shoved her feet into her bedroom shoes and grabbed her robe. She cinched it at her waist, shoving a tangle of unruly hair from her face as she hurried through the adjoining bathroom to her son’s room. The pale glow of the night-light bathed the room, her son’s whimpers a soft blip in the otherwise quiet nursery.

She could already see his chubby arms waving, his legs cycling the air, kicking off the covers, his dark brown eyes scrunched, searching through the darkness for her. She began to sing his favorite lullaby in a low voice to let him know she was there, and crossed the room, anxious to hold him to her breast, the tingle of anticipation already seeping through her, making her feel giddy.

She had never known she could love a baby so much. Had never known she could feel so much pain when he had been ripped from her life.

He lay curled on his side, covered in the crocheted blanket her mother had given him when Holly had brought him home. She gently eased it aside. “Come on, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. We’re never going to be separated again.”

A scream lodged in her throat.

Her baby was gone! Nooooo. Not again.

Tears swam to her eyes as she frantically searched every corner of the crib. But her efforts were useless. Her baby hadn’t come back. They hadn’t found him at all.

He might be lost to her forever….

HOLLY’S EYES flew open, a sob wrenching from deep inside her as she leaned over Sky’s empty crib. How many times in the past four months had she been entrenched in this nightmare and walked in her sleep to her son’s room? Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her hands as she dropped her head onto the railing and cried.

Why hadn’t they found him? Who had stolen her baby from his crib? Why would someone torture her like this? Maybe she had been spoiled, a rich girl, had played with fire by seducing Night, but she loved Sky, and he…he didn’t deserve this.

Her chest heaved with her sobs, the hope she’d clung to the first week he’d been kidnapped dwindling every day. And now the FBI and her father were practically giving up. Even the P.I.s working on the case hadn’t caught the kidnapper.

A shrill sound cut through her misery and she jerked her head toward her bedroom. The phone was ringing. Not a house phone though, her cell phone. Who would be calling this time of night?

Someone about the search? Night maybe? She’d barely talked to him since he’d stormed out. But she knew he had been watching her.

Knew he blamed her, as she blamed herself.

The price she had paid for her passion…would her misery ever end?

The sharp ring drowned out her thoughts, and she dashed through the bathroom and flipped on a light, scanning the clumps of clothes and accessories littering the dresser and her chaise lounge for the phone. Where was her purse?

Panicked now, she tossed items haphazardly onto the floor, digging beneath the rubble until her hands landed on the oversize leather bag she’d purchased to double as a small diaper bag. She’d wanted to be a fashionable young mother.

Now, she would trade every cent the Langworthys had to hold her baby again.

The phone trilled again and she turned the bag upside down and dumped the contents. Lipstick, brush, wallet, powder—cell phone. Sighing with relief, she punched the button and held it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Holly Langworthy?”

“Yes.” She frowned, the hair at the nape of her neck rising. She didn’t recognize the gruff voice.

“If you want to see your son again, listen carefully.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was the phone call they’d been waiting for. Her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the plush carpet, unable to believe it—she might get Sky back. “Wh—what do you want me to do?”

“Meet me at the Langworthy cabin at dawn.”

Her hands trembled as she fought her emotions. “Is my son all right?”

“Just show up. And, Holly…” His breath wheezed out. “Come alone. If I see a cop, or even a hint of one, you’ll never see your baby again.”

REGARDLESS OF the late hour, Colleen Wellesley had called a meeting at the Royal Flush to discuss the Langworthy baby kidnapping. Most of the key Confidential agents were there—Shawn Jameson, Ryan Benton, Colleen’s brother Michael, Fiona Clark, Conrad Burke, and Night.

The Confidential operatives had been working round the clock for the past four months. Although the FBI was pulling back, Samuel Langworthy still wanted Colorado Confidential, known to him as ICU, on the case. Thank God.

But even if Langworthy or Colorado Confidential gave up, Night wouldn’t.

His co-workers had no idea how powerless he felt without answers. Or how Night wanted them to use the Walker name instead of Langworthy when they referred to his son. Not that Samuel Langworthy would ever allow that to happen….

“Okay,” Colleen said after calling the meeting to order. “Let’s recap what we’ve learned so far.” She gestured toward her brother Michael. “Traces of wool, dirt, and egg shells were found by the baby’s crib. The wool fibers were from Merino sheep. I sent Michael undercover to the Half Spur, a Merino sheep ranch partially owned by Senator Gettys, to see if there might be evidence to connect him to the kidnapping.”

Michael took the floor first. “The atmosphere at the Half Spur was secretive and strange. Blood was collected from the flock at regular intervals. We lifted one of the blood samples and sent it to the Fort Collins CDC for testing. The sheep’s blood tested positive for a strange virus and antibodies for a bacteria called Coxiella burnetii, which causes Q fever. It seems the sheep are a test flock for a self-spreading vaccine for Q fever.” Michael paused.

“I received an e-mail from Wiley Longbottom, the director of the DPS,” Colleen added. “He saw those CDC results and suggested we check out a flu that hit Silver Rapids early this year.” She indicated for Shawn to continue.

“About five months prior to the kidnapping, a flu hit Silver Rapids. The people were treated at Gilpin Hospital in Denver. Two died.” Shawn pressed his hands on the table. “At about the same time the kidnapping occurred, Gilpin’s records room was damaged in a fire.”

“Too much of a coincidence,” Night said.

“Exactly. We caught the arsonist but he claims to know nothing about the kidnapping,” Shawn explained. “But we’re sure that the experiments being done on the sheep ranch are connected to the Silver Rapids flu. Dr. Kelley Stanton—” Shawn flushed as he said the name of the woman Night knew had captured his heart “—discovered that the flu was actually a Q fever outbreak. The people of Silver Rapids were probably exposed to a live version of whatever was being tested on the Half Spur flock.

“Senator Gettys still insists that Samuel Langworthy staged the kidnapping for publicity for his son Joshua. Former governor Todd Houghton seems to be in agreement.”

With Holly’s knowledge or without? Night had watched her from a distance these past four months, had seen the strain on her face, the dark circles beneath her eyes that showed she wasn’t sleeping. Even though she loved her brother Joshua and Night still resented the fact that she had kept his son from him, he didn’t believe she’d be a party to such a plan.

Ryan Benton jumped in. “While Michael was at the Half Spur, I investigated Helen Gettys, the senator’s former wife.”

Night turned his attention to Ryan, who explained that the senator was under investigation by the FBI for experimenting with biological weapons. Helen Gettys had given Ryan computer disks, copied from the Half Spur, that all but proved Gettys was involved in experiments that were likely illegal.

“When Senator Gettys was questioned about the experiments being done on the ranch, he was sweating,” Ryan stated. “He definitely supports bio research and wants to make Colorado the location of a premier research facility once the 1972 bio weapons treaty limitations are reassessed. But he insists there is no connection between the germs tested on his sheep and the Silver Rapids flu.”

“What about Joshua Langworthy?” Night asked.

“He’s clear,” Fiona said with a sly grin. While investigating Joshua, Fiona had developed a personal relationship with Holly’s half brother, the governor elect. Now she and Joshua were engaged.

“And Houghton probably isn’t too happy about losing the election,” Night noted.

Fiona shrugged. “He’s a little bitter toward Joshua and Samuel Langworthy. Joshua admits that his father has been acting strangely and thinks we should keep an eye on him.”

Night frowned. Back to Holly’s father. Would he kidnap his own grandson to gain publicity for Joshua’s campaign? Or perhaps he had orchestrated the kidnapping to punish Holly for getting involved with Night? What if Langworthy had decided he didn’t want a half-breed baby tainting the image of the Centennial family and decided to get him out of the picture completely? That would explain the reason there had been no ransom—and how someone had breached Langworthy security.

“Helen Gettys confirmed a connection between Senator Gettys and mobster Helio DeMarco, now deceased,” Colleen continued. “As you know, DeMarco’s web of illegal activities reached worldwide. A suspicious relationship for a senator. The FBI believes that one of Helio’s corporations may be the other owner of the Half Spur.”

Conrad stood, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “We also discovered that DeMarco’s nephew Tony used Holly’s half sister, Marilyn, to steal germ stock from Mills & Grommett, the pharmaceutical company affiliated with the Langworthys. Before he died, Helio implied that Holly might have inadvertently been a subject of germ testing herself.”

Night nearly bolted up from the table. “What?”

Con’s expression turned grave. “Tony tricked Marilyn into bringing Holly to Silver Rapids during her pregnancy. We think Holly was exposed to the germ test that caused the Silver Rapids flu.”

Night inhaled to control his emotions, although his pulse raced as he realized the implications. Both for Holly and their son. How many people had died of the Silver Rapids flu? “Has she been ill?”

“Holly suffered from symptoms during the Silver Rapids epidemic, in her seventh month of pregnancy, and was sick for four days,” Con answered. “Her symptoms also matched Q fever.”

“What are the long-term effects?” Night asked.

“None that we know of, but she’ll definitely need follow-up tests.”

Night nodded.

“And the baby?” His son?

“We have no way of knowing.” Colleen gave him a sympathetic look.

“Why subject a pregnant woman to germ testing?” Night asked. “And risk the life of an unborn child?”

Con released a troubled sigh. “I may have the answer there.” He met Night’s concerned look with one of equal measure. “As a young child, I used to stay with Holly’s mother, my Aunt Celia, when my family was out of town.”

“What does that have to do with Holly?”

“Celia was married to a doctor then, Theodore Grace. Dr. Grace earned his Ph.D. in microbiology at Yale where he met Celia and Samuel Langworthy. At one time, Grace was recruited to work at the federal government’s biological weapons research center in Frederick, Maryland. He made breakthrough discoveries and was working on highly promising experiments in combining viral and bacterial DNA when President Nixon shut down bio weapons research in 1969.”

A deathly chill invaded Night’s body. He had heard the name before. “But he didn’t give up the research?”

Con shook his head.

“No, he became obsessed, moody and abusive to my aunt. He built a home laboratory, locked himself in it for days and continued testing.” He sighed. “One weekend, when I was sick and Aunt Celia was taking care of me, Grace gave me an experimental bacterial concoction to boost my immune system. That was the last straw for Aunt Celia. When she discovered he’d used me as a guinea pig, she divorced him shortly after.”

“No surprise there,” Colleen said. “And later, Celia married Samuel Langworthy.”

Con nodded. “Teddy Grace is one of the few people capable of producing the designer germs Helio DeMarco liked to play with. Grace is connected to the Langworthys through Celia. He’s certainly capable of testing germs on an unknowing public, such as the people of Silver Rapids.”

And on Holly and his son. But why them?

To get revenge on Samuel Langworthy and his wife, Celia?

“For now, all our leads go back to Grace,” Colleen said. “Not only does he hate Samuel Langworthy for stealing Celia away from him, but, if he was involved in the Silver Rapids flu, he might want to follow up on the germ test to see how it affected Holly’s unborn child.”

Night folded his hands in front of him, his calm demeanor a mere smoke screen. Inside, his heart was raging, his anger like a bomb ready to explode.

“So our next step,” Colleen said, “is to find Teddy Grace.”

“I’m taking this assignment.” Night stood, ready for action. “Any idea where he is?”

Colleen shook her head. “Not yet, but we’re looking into it.”

Night headed toward the door. “I’ll go to the Langworthys and see if Celia has heard from him. Maybe she can give us a clue where to find him.”

Hopefully, finding Grace would lead Night to his baby.

“We’ll pinpoint areas where his lab might be,” Colleen said. “The dirt found by Baby Sky’s crib may have come from Southeast Colorado.”

“I’ll call you from the Langworthys and get the coordinates,” Night said.

Colleen hesitated. “All right. But once you find the location, wait for backup. You are not to go in to Grace’s laboratory alone. We have no idea what we’re up against.”

He nodded.

Good God. With all that he’d just learned, Colleen was crazy to think he’d wait for backup. If he found the lab and thought his son was inside, he would do whatever he had to do to rescue him.

SHOULD SHE tell someone where she was going?

Come alone. If I see a cop or even a hint of one, you’ll never see your baby again.

The caller’s words echoed in Holly’s head, nearly making her legs buckle. But she couldn’t be weak now. This was her chance to save her baby. To redeem herself for her son and prove to Night that she deserved to have his child.

Still, what if the call had been a setup? The man hadn’t mentioned a ransom, which was odd in itself. She’d been certain the kidnapper would want money. But as time passed, when she hadn’t received a ransom note, she’d wondered…

Why had the caller told her to go to the cabin? Because it was deserted?

The timing of the phone call didn’t escape her either. She had heard nothing for four months and now this call, only days after the election was over and Joshua had taken office, when her father said the FBI was pulling back, when he’d tried to convince her to give up—a nagging suspicion took hold that her father and his campaign cronies might have orchestrated the kidnapping and now that Joshua was in office, had decided to return the baby. Where better to meet her than someplace deserted, someplace owned by their family, someplace where they might leave the baby or be able to convince her not to press charges?

And if her father wasn’t involved and was giving up on finding Sky, if the FBI was pulling back, then she had to do something. Because she would never give up.

Her hands trembled as she threw off her robe. For a brief second, she considered calling Night for help.

But his bitter parting words still stung, and she had to hurry. Maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered and she would have her son back in her arms for Christmas.

Then maybe Night could forgive her. And she could forgive herself.

She scribbled a note and left it on her dresser, explaining she had received a phone call, maybe a lead to where Sky was, and that she had gone to check it out. She wouldn’t disturb Celia—her poor mother had suffered almost as much as Holly had the past few months. No, Holly would have her cell phone with her and would call as soon as she made it to the cabin and was reunited with Sky.

Realizing winter had already descended, she dressed in warm socks, hiking boots, jeans and a T-shirt, and threw a denim shirt over the ensemble. She stuffed her cell phone back into her purse, checked to make sure she still had the mace she carried for protection, and packed a backpack full of baby supplies—diapers, formula, water, baby wipes. And she couldn’t forget Bun-Bun. She kissed the bunny’s nose, then stuck it in the bag. Then she retrieved the small pistol her father had bought her to take to the cabin. He’d insisted she carry some kind of protection when she traveled there alone. It had been the gun or a bodyguard. She’d chosen the .22.

Anticipation zinged through her as she grabbed her coat, gloves and hat and slipped out the back door. Late evening shadows blackened the walls, nearly obliterating her path as she found her way to her car. Traffic wouldn’t be bad in the middle of the night, but she was nervous, and she didn’t want to drive fast. Besides, she had several hours ahead of her. Then she’d have to get a horse and ride to the cabin.

As expected, she passed only a few cars on the highway, the mountains on both sides cresting and enfolding her in their beauty. A light snow had begun to fall, the crystals splashing her windshield like teardrops. She turned on the defroster, the haze of the storm making visibility difficult. Yet as she drew near Aspen and then turned onto the dirt road that led to the stable where the Langworthys kept horses, snow spewed behind her wheels and the sense of isolation replaced the awe of the mountains. Normally, she loved retreating to the cabin. She’d been tempted to hide out there ever since Sky had disappeared, but hadn’t wanted to leave the mansion in case they received word about the baby.

Prairie land stretched before her, the onset of winter painting the landscape with a blanket of white. Darkness was giving way to predawn shades of gold and orange by the time she reached the stable. Another storm cloud hovered on the horizon, ready to rob the sun before it could explode into morning glory.

She parked by the corral and grabbed her fur-lined denim jacket, hat and gloves, hoping to leave for the cabin before any of the ranch hands discovered her mission and questioned her.

She snuck into the barn, slung the backpack onto the ground, then saddled up her favorite black and white paint, Sledge. After packing her supplies in the saddlebags, she took off toward the cabin.

The air was frigid, the wind howling through the treetops. She tugged the collar of her jacket around her neck and guided Sledge into the hills, resorting to the steep path through the woods that would shorten her journey. Riding again felt wonderfully liberating, as if the tension was ebbing away with her descent into the woods. Yet the nagging worry that the call had been a setup still dogged her.

She tamped down the worry, letting excitement spur her on—soon she would see her son again, hold him. How much had he grown? Would he even recognize her?

The fact that the caller hadn’t mentioned ransom money still seemed odd. After all, her father was a millionaire. Had he orchestrated the kidnapping to gain publicity for Joshua or to teach her a lesson because she’d insisted on keeping the baby, against his wishes, and then because she’d refused to marry Carlton? Surely he wouldn’t be that cruel, although he had behaved strangely the past few months. And the whole ordeal with Carlton…

She shuddered, a wolf’s cry from the hills reminding her how dangerous riding alone could be. Then again, rescuing her son was worth the risk. After all, what kind of life did she have ahead if she had to go on living without her little boy?

Night’s face flashed into her mind, his bitter parting words haunting her. Not only did he despise her for keeping Sky’s birth a secret, but he blamed her for the kidnapping.

Her father, ashamed of her for having an illegitimate child, had kept the baby a secret because of the media, but he’d also wanted to delay public knowledge of her son in hopes he could marry her off to a respectable man—Carlton Sanders. And Night thought she was so despicable she might even have been a party in her own son’s disappearance. As if the fact that he had never contacted her after the night they’d made love hadn’t hurt enough.

Heavy clouds moved closer, casting an ominous feel over the forest, the spiked leaves above her creating a web of fingery shadows. She ignored the chill. In a few minutes, she might be cradling her baby in her arms. Just as she reached the clearing to the cabin, a loud roaring sound burst through the animal sounds of the forest.

A plane? No, a helicopter. Probably one of the rescue teams looking for stranded hikers or tourists. She reached the incline to the cabin, patting Sledge as rocks sprayed from beneath his hooves. “We’re almost there, buddy. We’re going to get Sky.”

The sight of the cabin evoked bittersweet memories of happier times, but also offered hope that the torture of the past few months would soon end. She scanned the exterior for signs of life, of an intruder, even a horse or snowmobile to indicate she had company, but saw nothing. Thankfully, she’d arrived before the kidnapper. She’d have time to prepare.

Still, she approached the cabin slowly, easing up on the reins to gather her courage as well as to keep an eye on the doors and windows. Bringing the paint to a halt, she set him loose in the corral to the side of the cabin and made sure he had water. She’d wait until she checked out the cabin before she unsaddled him and put him in the barn. She might have to escape in a hurry.

Her boots crunched on the icy gravel as she walked toward the cabin. Unease clawed at her as she unlocked the door then it opened. She searched the dark interior but saw nothing. The whir of the helicopter drifted nearer, and she glanced over her shoulder just as it circled the clearing. She paused to see if it was going to land, but a shadow moved in the corner of the room. Heart pounding, she reached inside her purse for the pistol, but someone grabbed her from behind and shoved a rag over her mouth and nose. She bucked backward, struggling to breathe, digging her hands into the man’s arms. She tried to scream, but tasted something strange, and inhaled a pungent odor. Some kind of chemical. Gas? Chloroform?

Desperate, she clawed at his hands, then jabbed her elbow backward to connect with the man’s stomach. He grunted, then jerked her harder against him, pinning her in a viselike grip. She tried to scream again, but sucked in gas. Darkness spun into a kaleidoscope of colors. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fell into the nothingness. She wished she could have held her baby one more time before she died.