But those kinds of bargains were fruitless. This she knew. Her lungs were working now, hard. Each breath hurt. Hurt.
Ford, where are you? Where are you?
Kate looked at Daphne from the corner of her eye. ‘Straight home.’ She hung up. ‘They knew about the text already. They dumped Ford’s cell phone records.’
There was more she wasn’t saying. ‘Where did he text from?’
‘The text was sent from an alley, a few blocks from the courthouse.’
‘Is Joseph there now?’ she asked.
Kate hesitated. ‘Yes.’
‘Then take me there.’ She met Hector’s eyes in the rear view mirror. ‘Now.’
‘Daphne,’ Hector started.
‘Now!’ Daphne shouted and both agents flinched. She quieted her voice. ‘Or I will get out of this car and hail a cab. Hitchhike if I have to. What’s it going to be?’
Tuesday, December 3, 1.35 P.M.
Joseph got out of his car and jogged to the alley where Deacon’s car was parked. Deacon was nowhere to be seen. ‘Novak,’ he called.
‘In back of the Dumpster,’ Deacon called back. A few seconds later, he emerged, a backpack dangling limply from a pen, hanging by the shoulder strap. ‘This is all I found.’
‘Then let’s have a look,’ Joseph said.
Deacon unzipped the compartments and took a little whiff. Then coughed. ‘Somebody carried their lunch in this. Whoever that was ate a lot of garlic.’ He looked up, blinking rapidly. ‘That’ll curl the hair on your chest.’
Joseph waved the pungent odor away, then paused, studying Deacon’s strange eyes as he cleared them of moisture. ‘You’re not wearing contacts, are you?’
Deacon looked amused. ‘Nope. What I got is what I got.’
‘Your eyelashes are white, too. Why?’
Deacon shrugged again. ‘All my hair is white. Even the ones on my chest.’
It bothered him, Joseph realized. ‘I’m sorry, Deacon,’ he said. ‘I figured you were pretty impervious. I was wrong.’
‘It gets old,’ Deacon confessed.
‘The eyes work, though?’ Joseph asked. ‘No vision issues, blind spots that I need to know about? No vulnerabilities in a firefight?’
‘No. My vision is at the top of the chart, actually.’ Deacon’s odd eyes took on a thoughtful gleam. ‘You’re worrying about me?’
‘Worry isn’t the word I’d use,’ Joseph hedged.
Deacon grinned. ‘You were worrying about me. You like me, you really like me.’
Joseph snorted. ‘You’re an ass, Novak.’
‘I know. Makes life more interesting. To answer your question, I have no vision defects. It’s all cosmetic. My good vision is unrelated to the color. Dad had great eyes, my mother’s side provided the ice-breaking conversation topic.’
‘Well, it’s a damn fine weapon if you ask me,’ Joseph muttered. ‘Catches people off their guard. As well you know.’
‘Hell, yeah.’ Deacon opened the backpack. ‘What do we have?’
Joseph shined his flashlight inside. Reaching in, he brought out a plastic . . . something. ‘What the hell?’
‘Looks like a shoe horn,’ Deacon said.
‘A bit.’ Joseph opened the backpack wider. ‘And a single dollar bill. That’s all.’
Out on the street a car came to a screeching halt. Doors slammed and arguing voices approached. Joseph stood, the backpack in his hands. Beside him Deacon also rose, his hand on his weapon.
‘Where is he?’ a woman demanded, and Joseph sighed.
‘Have you met SA Montgomery?’ he asked Deacon.
‘No, but I have a feeling I’m about to.’
‘Yep.’ Joseph started walking, meeting her as she entered the alley from the street.
She walked faster when she saw him and for a tiny second he let himself stare. Then he saw her red eyes and knew she’d been crying and abruptly checked his lust. ‘Joseph, he texted me. From here. Ford did.’
‘Somebody holding his phone texted you,’ he said gently.
‘But why?’ she asked plaintively. ‘Why go to the trouble?’
‘I don’t know. All we’ve found so far is this backpack. Do you recognize it?’
‘No. What’s in it?’
Joseph took out the plastic piece and watched her flinch. ‘What? What is it?’
‘It’s the same color as the knife Reggie used to stab Deputy Welch,’ she said. ‘Kind of the same shape, too. But that’s not a knife.’
Deacon took it from Joseph and sniffed it. He made a face. ‘It smells sour. Like unwashed skin. But it’s not a knife. It’s not even sharp.’
Daphne carefully turned, and began walking away.
‘Daphne.’ Joseph grasped her shoulders and made her look at him. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. And devastation. ‘Aw, honey,’ he whispered. ‘You hoped.’
She blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. ‘How stupid was I?’
‘No, no. Not stupid. Never stupid. You’re a mother who loves her son.’
She dropped her chin to her chest and her shoulders shook as she tried to contain her sobs. ‘Where is my son, Joseph? Where is he? What are they doing to him?’
He gave the backpack to Deacon and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on. Let’s get you home.’
She looked up at him, that terrible pain in her eyes. ‘What can I do?’
‘For now, believe he’s alive because it’s the only way you’ll be able to breathe.’
She blinked at him. Then her eyes changed and he knew that she realized that he truly understood. ‘I believe,’ she said firmly.
‘That’s my girl. Come on. You have to go home. I have bad guys to catch.’
She squared her shoulders and walked away, pausing at the edge of the alley to look back at him. ‘Thank you, Joseph.’
His heart squeezed in his chest. ‘Just doing my job.’ He watched her go, then turned back to Deacon who had avidly witnessed the entire exchange. ‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ Deacon said. ‘Who’s got the knife Reggie used in the courtroom?’
‘BPD was inside the courtroom processing the stabbing scene when the shooting started outside. All evidence is being taken to their lab and we’ll coordinate who did what when the crime scenes are secure. The head of BPD CSU is Drew Peterson. I’ll have him coordinate with Dr Brodie. I’d like her to examine that knife.’
There were so many players here, Joseph thought. He needed all of them to hear the same info at the same time. He hated meetings, but he needed to call one.
Deacon inspected the plastic plate. ‘Bet we can get prints off of this.
‘Get it to Latent, then watch for a text from me. I’m calling a debriefing with BPD.’ And after that, he and Grayson would have a chat with the Millhouses.
Tuesday, December 3, 2.10 P.M.
I believe. I believe. Her eyes closed, Daphne repeated the two words in her mind again and again as Hector and Agent Coppola drove her home. I believe.
She pictured herself opening the door and finding Ford on the front porch. Whole. Alive. Smiling at me. And she continued to breathe, just like Joseph had said.
Joseph. I wonder who was stolen from him? The thought snuck in among the litany of affirmations. He’d said he’d understood better than she knew. Now she knew he’d been telling the truth.
That the person he’d lost was a woman was only a guess. But Daphne was pretty good at reading people. Unfortunately many of the people she met on the job had lost someone who’d completed them. Spouses and lovers wore a different look from the parents and siblings. It was a stark . . . aloneness. The knowledge that you’d never be the person you were, ever again, because part of you had been hacked away.
For a moment Joseph had worn that look, there in the alley. But for a while he’d believed. He must have. He still breathed.
The car stopped moving. ‘We’re here, Daphne,’ Hector said.
The terror abruptly returned in a wave, smashing through all th
at lovely, completely pretend positive energy. Please don’t let them be hurting my son.
Coppola reached over the seat, gently shaking her shoulder. ‘You’re home.’
‘I know,’ she whispered, lifting her eyes to her house, the elegant Victorian she’d fallen in love with at first sight. It looked impossibly the same. But it didn’t feel like her house. Arduously, she reconstructed the mental picture. Opening the door, seeing Ford standing on the front porch. Smiling at me. I believe. If it kills me, I believe.
‘Wait.’ Hector engaged the door locks when she reached for the door handle. ‘Until this is over, you don’t go anywhere unprotected. If you’re walking out in the open, we’re flanking you. We’ll go in and out through the garage. You stay inside until the garage door is back down. Got it?’
She nodded. ‘Got it.’
Hector’s expression softened. ‘I know you’re worried about your son, but you were a target this morning. My priority is to keep you safe. That allows Agent Carter to focus on finding your son.’ He dialed his cell. ‘We’re here. You can open the garage.’
The door slid up and he glided them in, then turned the car off as the door started back down. Daphne stayed put as she was told – until she heard a familiar voice.
‘Daphne! Daphne! Wait!’
Before Daphne could blink, Coppola was out of the car, then out of the garage through a side door, her rifle on her shoulder.
Hector reached over the seat to push Daphne’s head down, twisting to aim his gun out the back window, all in one motion. Reluctantly impressed, Daphne struggled against his hold.
‘Hector. Hector, let me up. I know that guy. He’s okay.’
He loosened his hold. ‘Who is it?’
‘His name is Hal Lynch. He’s a friend.’
‘Your boyfriend?’ Hector asked.
‘Oh, no. No. Just an old friend. He used to be my ex-husband’s head of security. Hal was my bodyguard during most of my marriage. He’s retired now.’ She winced when she heard a loud thump against the closed garage door.
‘Let me go.’ Hal’s voice was muted, but his fury came through. ‘Daphne!’
‘He needs to know I’m okay. Old bodyguards’ habits die hard.’
Hector exited through the same door to the outside that Coppola had used. A minute later, Hal appeared, his hands cuffed behind him. Hector and Coppola followed him inside and shut the door.
Of average height, Hal had a stocky build and a slightly crooked nose – like he’d boxed one too many rounds with the champ in his youth. At the moment, he looked ready to go a round with the FBI agents, his normally calm disposition anything but, and his usually charming smile replaced with a fearsome scowl.
Daphne got out of the car and saw the scowl fade. ‘Can we lose the cuffs?’
Coppola unlocked the handcuffs.
Hal rubbed his wrists. ‘Your protection detail, I assume?’ he asked, eyeing the two agents appraisingly. He gave a single nod of approval. ‘They’ll do.’
‘I’m sorry, Hal,’ she said, her voice unexpectedly cracking. ‘It’s been a bad day.’
He wrapped his arms around her in a hard hug, then let her go, tipping her chin up so that he could search her face. The scent of lemon oil was strong on his hands. He must have come straight from his boat. Or what might eventually become a boat. Someday. He’d been working on it for years, long before her divorce. Whenever she smelled lemon oil, she thought of Hal.
‘I needed to know you were okay,’ he said gruffly. ‘I saw the attack on TV. Live. Scared the shit out of me.’
‘I’m okay,’ she assured him, grasping his hands and holding on tight. He was her oldest friend – the first smiling face she’d seen when she’d been absorbed into the Elkharts’ strange and rarefied world. He’d been one of the first people to hold Ford when her son was just minutes old. He’d been a part of so many of the milestones of their lives, both hers and Ford’s. She hated to break the news to him now.
She drew a breath. ‘Hal . . . Ford is missing. He’s been kidnapped.’
Hal swallowed hard. ‘I know. Your mother called. What can I do to help?’
‘Right now, nothing. The FBI is on it.’
‘Do they have any leads?’
‘Not really.’ She closed her eyes, battling new tears. I believe.
‘Do you want me to call Travis for you?’
She opened her eyes, her face heating. ‘No. I called him already.’
His face darkened. ‘He blamed you, didn’t he? That sonofabitch.’
‘It wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with.’
He studied her carefully. ‘I can see the headache in your eyes. You should sleep. I’ll see you later.’
‘I’ll try.’ She frowned. ‘I can see the anger in your eyes. Promise me you’ll stay away from Travis.’
He smiled, but it was grim. ‘I promise I won’t hit him.’
‘Hal. Please. Don’t make this any worse. I can’t take any more drama from the Elkharts. And you know Nadine’s got a bad heart.’
‘She’s actually got a heart?’ he asked dryly. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t cause trouble. I promise.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Get some sleep. Call if you need anything.’
‘I will. Thank you.’ When the door closed, Daphne’s shoulders sagged. ‘Just don’t do anything stupid,’ she murmured.
‘I take it that he doesn’t care for your ex,’ Agent Coppola said.
‘No. Hal ran a tight ship as Travis’s head of security and he respected him as his boss, but he doesn’t care for him as a person. They at least used to be friendly, but something happened between them a bunch of years ago. I don’t know what, but it festered for at least five years. I just hope Hal doesn’t hit him again.’
‘He hit his boss?’ Hector asked, surprised.
‘Later, when Travis and I were divorcing. I think Hal retired before he hit him. Or maybe during.’ She blinked hard and rubbed her head. ‘I think I will lie down. I do have a headache.’ She paused at the door into the house. ‘I have a big dog. I’ll go first.’
‘Dog’s under control,’ Hector said. ‘Your mother put her in your room. Let’s go.’
Her mother was sitting in semi-darkness in the living room, Maggie by her side. Her mother rose, her face ashen. ‘Baby,’ she whispered.
Baby. Daphne froze, her heart racing, her lungs contracting, and instantly she was eight years old again. Her mother had been sitting in the dark that day, too, her face smooth and young, but ashen. That living room sofa hadn’t been expensive leather, but cheap fabric. Maggie hadn’t been there. They hadn’t met her yet.
It had been her father sitting beside her mama. Daddy. Her father’s handsome face had been red, his eyes swollen from crying. I’m so sorry, Daddy.
Aunt Vivien was sitting in the rocking chair, rocking with a mindless, sightless rhythm. They’d stood together, their expressions a mix of desperate hope and dread as they waited for the sheriff to speak. He’d been a big man, the sheriff. He stared at them, then twisted to look behind him, surprised.
Daphne had crunched herself into a ball, hiding behind the sheriff’s legs. Like trees. They’d been tall as trees, his legs. ‘What’re you doin’, child? You’re home,’ he’d boomed, then plucked her from the floor, frowning when she screamed, clinging to him.
It had been chaos. Her mother and father grabbing for her, tears of joy running down their faces. Aunt Vivien demanding hysterically, ‘Where is Kelly? Where is she? Where is my daughter?’
Still there. Back there. With the cats and the man.
I’m back. Did you miss me?
No. Don’t. Don’t think about it. Don’t ever think about it. Don’t remember.
‘Daphne. Come back.’
Daphne sucked in air, filling her lungs again. Her back stung. Somebody hit me. She blinked and Maggie came into focus, an encouraging smile on her face. But her eyes were fearful. Daphne looked over to her mother who stood wringing her hands, then she caught herself searching the ro
om for the oldest of her mother’s sisters. But Aunt Viv was gone. She’d died five years ago.
And her father? Daddy, I’m so sorry. Wherever you are, I hope you can forgive me. I’m so sorry. Sadness overwhelmed her as Maggie walked her into the kitchen. Daphne was aware of Hector and Coppola sharing puzzled glances behind her. She noted two more agents in her formal dining room, where they’d set up their computers to trace incoming phone calls. She ignored them all for now.
In the kitchen doorway she stopped. A tall man with silver in his dark hair stood at the stove, where he’d just put a kettle on. ‘Scott,’ she whispered, swallowing back new tears. ‘You came, too.’
With a look of fierce sorrow he held his arms open. She walked into his embrace, holding on as he rocked her gently. She inhaled, smelling the barn on his clothes, feeling her racing pulse quiet. Hal’s hands always smelled like lemon oil. Scott’s smelled like saddle soap. Both scents soothed her.
Both men had played important roles in her life, both had been friends when she’d been lonely. Both had made personal sacrifices for her along the way.
It was fitting that both of them would show up to support her today.
‘Of course I came,’ Scott murmured. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t?’
Hearing a thread of hurt in his voice, she leaned back to meet his eyes. ‘Only because I didn’t know you were home. I thought you were at the horse show in Florida.’
‘Got home last night. Two of my kids brought home blue ribbons.’ Scott’s ‘kids’ were his equestrian students. One of the best showjumping trainers in the state, he’d coached Ford since he could sit in the saddle and loved him like he was one of his own sons. Together, Hal and Scott had been the fathers that Travis never even tried to be.
Scott tried to smile, but it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. ‘And I brought you and Maggie a present. When you’re feeling up to it, you have to come meet him.’
She found her lips could still curve. ‘Another rescue?’ she asked and he nodded.
‘Found him tied to a tree. He’s a bag of bones right now, but he’s got heart. You need to hurry out before Maggie names him,’ he added teasingly.