Читать книгу Family In Hiding - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

TWO

It took only minutes for the McIntyre family to return to the family’s midsize white SUV. Grace secured little Brandon while Dylan made sure the other two were safely belted on either side of the toddler’s booster seat in the second row.

“If you want me to drive, I’ll need your keys,” Dylan said.

“Why? What happened to yours?”

“The same thing that happened to my briefcase and cell phone,” he replied, holding out his hand.

She pulled a ring of keys from her jeans’ pocket and tossed it to him. “Okay. But this better be good.”

He nodded. “Get in and buckle up.”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace unusual. And public. Can you think of any nearby locations you and I have never visited?” He started the car and pulled into traffic, narrowly missing a passing motorist. “Preferably one with a crowd.”

“You’re scaring me, Dylan.”

“Good. That makes two of us.”

With an eye on his mirrors as well as the road ahead, Dylan headed west on Highway 44. “How about the botanical garden? You used to say you’d like to go there sometime and we never got around to it.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Grace set her jaw and folded her arms across her chest, clearly defensive. “I suppose you’re going to make me wait until we get there before you explain what’s going on.”

He met her stare and angled his head back toward their children. “I think that’s for the best. Once I’ve told you everything, I know you’ll agree I’m doing the right thing.”

“I’d better.”

Continuing to cut in and out of traffic whenever it was safe to do so, Dylan remained on full alert. Not only were criminals probably after him, so was the law. He knew he shouldn’t have ditched his handlers but once he’d reached the street outside his office, his heart had insisted he go straight to Grace and his children while he was still free to do so.

He caught sight of Kyle in the mirror and his gut clenched. If Grace was upset, their son was doubly angry. The boy’s brow was furrowed and he was glaring at his father as if he’d already forgotten how glad he’d been to see him.

The turnoff on Shaw Boulevard took them straight to the Missouri Botanical Garden. “What section?” Dylan asked, attempting to keep the concern out of his voice. “I understand the irises are in full bloom right now.”

“No,” Grace replied with an audible sigh. “Make it the Children’s Garden. That will give the kids something to do and we won’t have to stay long. I think they close early this time of year.”

“Okay. You go buy the tickets and I’ll bring the kids.”

Watching her shoulder her purse and slowly start toward the entrance, Dylan could barely breathe. Look what he’d had—and let slip away. Grace was one of a kind. A loving wife and a great mother. Of all the mistakes he’d made, and there were plenty, letting his work take precedence over his family had been the worst.

It was more than that, his guilty conscience insisted. You let yourself be blinded by the promise of success and wealth beyond your dreams. And now look where you are.

Straightening with Brandon on one hip and the older children close at heel, Dylan started for the entrance to the gardens. Judging by the number of cars present they had made a good choice. There were enough others there to provide anonymity without a crowd overwhelming them. And, if necessary, the gardens would provide plenty of places to hide.

Dylan sincerely hoped it was not going to come to that. If he’d had the slightest inkling that they were being followed he would have driven straight to the nearest police station and turned himself in.

However, since they seemed to be in the clear for the present he was going to carry out his plan. Grace was a sensible woman. She’d see why his future—and hers— depended upon the choices he was about to make. Given the lives those criminals had ruined and the children they had kidnapped, according to the police, he could hardly wait to help put them all behind bars.

Finished at the ticket booth, Grace turned back to her family. Dylan saw her hair catch the rays of the afternoon sun and gleam like burnished copper, afire with highlights that gave her a haloed appearance and made him rue the poor choices that had led them to that moment.

As much as he would have liked to appeal to his alienated spouse on a personal level, he realized that this wasn’t the right time to reveal how much trouble he was in and that he was preparing to face danger.

The less she knew about all that and the more he nurtured their estrangement, the safer she, and his children, would be.

* * *

Hardly anything would have surprised Grace more than her husband’s presence at the elementary school. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Dylan had picked up the kids. So what had brought him this time? And why was he dressed like a refugee from a Cardinals’ baseball game?

She held up the brochure she’d been given with the tickets and pointed to it. “Let’s go to number ten. It’s an elevated pavilion. We can stand up there and watch while the kids check out the tree house and the frontier fort.”

“Works for me.”

Grace led the way, noting that her usually rambunctious children were clinging close to the daddy they hadn’t seen in weeks. Although she felt slightly abandoned she could understand their feelings. They’d missed Dylan. So had she. Not that she’d ever actually admit it.

They started up a boarded walkway that was edged with a rough-cut rail fence and Grace wished she’d worn more substantial rubber-soled shoes rather than skimpy sandals.

She faltered once, catching herself on the bordering fencing.

“You okay?” Dylan asked.

Why did he have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he be standoffish and aloof the way he used to be?

Because he’s trying to drive you crazy, her imagination replied cynically. And he’s doing a wonderful job of it.

“Grace?”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

They reached the covered pavilion. Grace turned to her family. “Put Brandon down so he can go with Kyle and Beth.”

The three-year-old clung to his daddy’s neck. “No. I wanna stay here.”

More tenderly than Grace had ever seen Dylan behave in the past, he set the child on his feet and kissed his damp cheek. “I’ll be right here, buddy. You go with Kyle and your sister. Mommy and I need to talk.”

The child clapped his hands over his ears and sniffled. “I won’t listen. See?”

Kyle took him by the wrist and tugged him away, letting Beth follow at her own pace while Brandon began to whimper. Grace couldn’t tell what the older boy said to quiet his brother but the whining stopped as if someone had shut off a faucet.

“All right. We’re alone,” Grace said. “The park closes in forty-five minutes. I’ll give you thirty to tell me what’s going on and then the kids and I are out of here.”

Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of the silky jacket and paced away from her before turning. “It’s complicated. I hardly know where to start.”

“Maybe I can make it easier for you,” she said wryly. “I already know you were up to your neck in illegal adoptions because the police interviewed me about it. What more can there be?”

“Plenty,” Dylan said, swallowing so hard she could see his Adam’s apple move. “And it’s much worse than I’d thought. Learning the truth is what finally decided it for me.”

“Just wanting to be an honest, upright citizen wasn’t enough for you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Dylan admitted, “although I’ve since had a long talk with myself and I promise I’ll never step that close to the line again.”

“Close? Ha! You were balancing on the sharp edge of a knife blade, Dylan. It’s a wonder you didn’t fall off onto the wrong side long before this.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. If I had it all to do over again I hope I’d make better choices.” He studied the planks at his feet. “When it all began it seemed innocent enough. My part in it was technically within the law.”

“Then why are we having this talk? What’s changed?”

“I have,” Dylan said. He removed the dark glasses and looked straight at her.

Grace was taken aback by the pain she saw in his expression, in his eyes. If they had not had the history of the past twelve years between them, she would have believed him in a heartbeat. “Why?”

Watching his internal struggle, Grace was almost tempted to go to him and put her arms around his waist. She resisted. Waiting. Listening. Never dreaming he’d have anything earth-shattering to reveal.

When Dylan said, “Because the children involved came from a baby-stealing ring,” she had to put a hand on the railing to keep her balance.

“Babies?”

It was barely spoken aloud, yet Dylan nodded. “Yes. I just found out. That’s why I decided to volunteer to provide the proof the police need to put a stop to it.” He paused. “I was hoping you’d be pleased.”

“Flabbergasted is more like it,” Grace said, glancing over his shoulder to watch her own children play. “I can’t even imagine what those poor mothers went through.”

“I can. I spoke with a friend of one of them on the phone. She got involved when she was a missionary in Mexico. The authorities are still trying to trace a baby she swears was taken, brought to the States and sold.”

“That’s terrible!”

“There’s more.” He reached for her hand and she let him grasp it for a few seconds before pulling away and folding her arms.

“Go on. It can’t get much worse.”

“Yes, it can. One of the men who had been trying to silence her—his name was Flores—was arrested and then murdered. In jail. So the authorities are no closer to nailing the higher-ups than they were before.”

A heaviness settled in her chest. “You know who they are, don’t you?”

“I have a fair idea about one or two. There’s still a lot of legwork to do but I think I’m the key. So do the cops.” He put his hand in his pants’ pocket and pulled out the flash drive to show her. “This is why I’m not in custody today. I was picking up this evidence for them.”

“Now what?” With a shiver she couldn’t stop, Grace began to scan the nearby grounds as if sensing imminent threats.

“I keep a low profile and wait, I guess. Once I’ve turned over these files to the cops they won’t need me anymore.” Dylan snorted derisively. “Of course I’ll have to find another job. I doubt my bosses will condone my change of heart.”

“Will you be safe?”

“Don’t tell me you care.”

“Of course I do. The kids are already struggling to adjust because you’re not in their lives. What will it do to them if you go to prison?”

“I don’t expect that to happen,” Dylan said. “At least I hope it won’t since I have something crucial to plea bargain with.”

“Does anybody else know you have evidence?”

“Not directly. I was noticed when I went by the office this morning but my regular files had been cleaned so nobody can possibly imagine what I was doing.”

“You hope.” Grace’s emotions were on a rollercoaster and she could envision a precipice at the end where the track vanished. And Dylan with it.

She started to pace. “What am I supposed to do about the divorce if you’re not around?”

“Go ahead without me,” Dylan said. He shrugged so nonchalantly she wanted to scream before he added, “Of course you could postpone the final decree and see if you really need it.”

“Because you expect to be murdered like that other witness who was killed in jail? Is that what you were thinking when you said I might become a widow?”

“Let’s just say there’s an element of risk.”

His nonchalant attitude galled. “I can’t believe this is happening, Dylan. If you don’t care about yourself, think of your children.”

“I am thinking of them. And of all those other children whose futures changed because of me.” He began to pace the gazebo floor, hitting his opposite palm with his balled fist.

“What, exactly, did you do?” she asked, worried that the answer was going to hurt worse than not knowing. Merely being associated with Dylan at this point was making her feel sullied.

“The fewer details you have, the better,” he said.

“Now you’re sounding like the Dylan McIntyre I know,” Grace countered. “Always in charge, always sure nobody else is smart enough to grasp fundamentals as cleverly as you do.”

Returning to stand in front of her, toe to toe, he grasped her shoulders. The power and resolve emanating from him momentarily took her breath away. “Stop judging me by past performances and listen to me, Grace. I only came to tell you in person because I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me otherwise. I’m not going to give you any more details because I don’t want to put you or the kids in danger.”

“How do you know it isn’t already too late?” she asked, ruing the tremor in her voice and hoping she looked far more courageous than she felt.

“Because everybody knows we’ve been estranged for a long time and are almost divorced. And, because nobody needs to know how the authorities are finally going to be able to prove who I answered to, why I did what I did.”

She twisted out of his grip. “Get real, Dylan. If these criminals are smart enough to steal babies and get away with it, what makes you think they won’t suspect you of divided loyalties?”

She watched his jaw muscles working for long seconds before he spoke again. “I have no choice,” he insisted. “Even if I tried to back down at this point there’s no way I could go to work and behave as if nothing has changed. It was hard enough to casually walk through the office this morning.” He spread his arms, palms toward her. “Look at me, Grace. Believe how sorry I am. You have to.”

Before she could form a suitable answer, there was a startling noise; a distant ping that made her husband jump.

Dylan suddenly launched himself at her, carrying them both to the wooden floor and knocking the air out of Grace. “Get off me! What’s the matter with you?”

“A shot! Didn’t you hear it?”

“I heard something. How do you know...?”

“The kids!” he rasped into her ear. “Go get the kids out of here while I draw their fire.”

Stunned, Grace nevertheless rolled onto her knees as soon as Dylan began to stand. Watching him crouch behind the railing as if those widely spaced boards would afford adequate protection from another bullet, she was astounded by the way her heart went out to him in spite of everything.

“Now,” Dylan shouted over his shoulder.

He began to sprint away.

Grace scrambled in the opposite direction toward her children. Kyle had apparently noticed the furor and had gathered his siblings together inside the walls of a miniature fort. Brandon was cooperating but Beth was screeching in protest.

Grace scooped up Brandon, grabbed Beth’s hand and barely paused before heading out the opposite side of the child-size structure and ducking into thick foliage along a garden path.

Shaking so badly she could hardly stand, she hunkered down, pulling all three children close. “Shush. We’re playing a game of hide-and-seek. Don’t make noise or they’ll find us.”

Only Kyle seemed to grasp the reality behind her actions. “Where’s Dad?”

“Never mind that. Just do as I say.”

The slim ten-year-old started to rise. Grace grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him back down. “No! You have to stay with me.”

“But, Dad...”

“Your father got himself into this mess and he says he can get himself out of it, so we’re going to let him.” She fixed her most convincing parental stare on her eldest child, thankful to see him wilt from its effects.

What she wasn’t willing to admit, to Kyle or even to herself, was how worried she was for Dylan’s well-being. For his future. And for the rest of the family.

Positive her brood would stay put, at least for the present, Grace reached into her shoulder bag, pulled out her cell phone and pressed 9-1-1. Somebody had to be practical and behave like a sensible adult. While Dylan was acting as if he thought he could outrun bullets, she was going to summon proper assistance.

As soon as the call was answered, Grace began with, “I’m at the botanical gardens. We think somebody is shooting at us!”

* * *

Dylan was torn. Should he circle back to rejoin his family in the hope he could protect them? Or should he stay as far away from Grace and the kids as possible? Neither choice seemed foolproof.

He’d been listening carefully and had heard no more shots. Was it possible the whole incident had been imagined? Was he so mentally unbalanced from the stress of finding out what he’d done that he was hearing things? Ducking phantom attackers? Making a mountain out of a molehill?

His jaw clenched and he shook his head. This was no trivial matter. Even if his own life wasn’t currently in jeopardy, that didn’t mean he and his family would remain safe in the future. Nobody who had interrogated him had mentioned the possibility of going into the Witness Protection Program but surely that was an option. It had to be, particularly since other erstwhile eyewitnesses had been assassinated while in police custody.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps he should withhold his evidence until that idea had been discussed and his wife and children had been offered sanctuary.

The distant wail of sirens told him he had not been the only garden visitor who had sensed trouble. In a way, that was comforting. At least he could be certain he hadn’t imagined the attack.

Dylan stepped onto the nearest path and started to jog toward the gates, figuring to intercept the police, explain what was going on and direct them to Grace and the kids.

Rounding the final corner he spied several patrol cars entering the grounds. He raised an arm and waved to get their attention.

A crack of sound split the atmosphere.

Dylan felt as if someone had smacked his forearm with a baseball bat.

He faltered. Staggered. Grabbed his wrist with his opposite hand and yelled, “Over here!” at the top of his lungs.

When he looked down, there was blood dripping off his fingers and dotting the path at his feet.