Hill Country Holdup. Angi Morgan

I could re-create the ride, I tried to keep track but I can’t tell you anything significant. It was a building with no visible address. I couldn’t see the surrounding skyline. Nothing. All I know is that forty-something turns later I still wasn’t with Rory.”

      “What did they want?”

      “Not much the first day. Being separated from Rory drove me insane. It was the same for most of July third.”

      “Wait a minute. You rented a car on the third.”

      “Not me.” She shook her head and pulled the afghan tighter. “The last note said the car was in my name and to avoid the police. It also stated to find the stroller by the Mustang sculpture at the fireworks. Everything I needed, including clothes, was in the car. One man drove me to the hotel parking garage.”

      Images of a little boy floated into his mind, a toddler with short chubby legs and a patch of light brown hair the shade of Jane’s.

      Why was he unable to concentrate? He was a federal agent. He should be able to keep his head, be able to think about this situation rationally. He diligently concentrated on the tile where each boot fell as he paced.

      “How many men were there?”

      “I think two, but it’s hard to be certain.”

      “Could you recognize any of them?” His boot hit a cracked tile. An accident he and his brother were probably responsible for. Concentrate.

      “They wore full head masks and never spoke.”

      “Since they didn’t do anything to you and didn’t need you earlier than the fourth, why not wait and take you just before the fireworks? Why take your son? Why this elaborate scheme to collect ransom money?”

      She didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t shrug or move. Then her chin quivered.

      He felt like an ass.

      “So tell me about last night.”

      “They watched everything I did during the fireworks. The one time they spoke, their voices were altered somehow. One guy met me in a boat, took the money and took me to the car. I needed to hide, so I came here on the way to San Antonio.”

      “San Antonio?”

      “That’s what the instructions said to do. I need to meet them at the Alamo on the sixth and I’ll get Rory back.”

      No spoken instructions? Disappearing notes? Secret formulas and threats to her child? This was so farfetched he didn’t know where to begin to tear her story to shreds. It didn’t make sense.

      And what happens if she’s lying to you, pal? A niggling voice kept gnawing at his thoughts. There weren’t any pictures, no kid clothes, no toys.

      “I went to your apartment, Jane.” Confronting her was easier than playing guessing games. “There isn’t any evidence to support what you’re telling me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Like he would with any suspect, he watched for tells. Subtle expression changes, a shifting of her eyes to indicate she was lying.

      All he could see was Jane. Holy cow, she wasn’t lying. She had a son. Rory was real.

      “The team wasn’t gentle when they searched your place, but they were thorough. I think I would have noticed if a child lived there.”

      Jane looked confused. “Why would they take his things? It was the only room I’d finished unpacking.”

      The tip of Jane’s nose turned red from holding back the tears she refused to surrender to again. Her lip trembled as much as her clasped hands. He clenched his jaw tighter to withhold his sympathy and drew on a reserve of professionalism he’d never tapped before.

      This wasn’t a normal abduction. It didn’t fit any profile, any standard he could focus on. His gut told him the kidnappers didn’t have any intention of returning her son. It didn’t make sense.

      “Who are these ghosts?” He didn’t hold back his frustration, letting his voice boom through the room. She flinched. He didn’t expect Jane to answer, but she shrugged and choked back a sob.

      “I don’t know. I didn’t see them.” She dropped her face into her hands, thought better of it and looked into the far corner. “Details scream at me every moment of my life. I don’t forget anything. Ever. But I can’t remember what they didn’t expose me to.”

      “I want to believe you.” But he wouldn’t let his wants get in the way of reality. As much as he wanted to accept everything she said, he still hadn’t heard a viable reason why she would be anyone’s target. The Brants, yes. They had a million dollars’ worth of reasons—that Jane didn’t have with her anymore.

      “How did you know I’d find your message?”

      “Actually, I hoped they wouldn’t have to involve you, Steve. I assumed the police would discover who I am and hoped. I hoped that someone would look inside the book.”

      Dang it! Did all her actions imply she was innocent or did he want her to be? “Why not just write details about the kidnapping and let the police know about your son?”

      “They handed the note to me when we arrived in the parking garage. I found the stroller, then found a free pen when I passed by a booth. I barely managed to write ‘Zaphod’ on the top before the fireworks began. I hoped by mentioning a character from your favorite book, it would draw your attention to the case. What if they don’t follow through, Steve? I need your help to make certain I’m the one at the Alamo.”

      With McCaffrey in charge, there wasn’t much chance of him helping with the exchange. He had serious doubts anything he said would be taken into consideration.

      “Driving here wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Jane.” The rain had probably played in her favor, or she would have been apprehended in that rental. Which was probably what the kidnappers had wanted. “You should have called me, the police, anyone who could have helped you.”

      With her body covered with the afghan, he couldn’t pick up any abnormal nervousness. She had just as much apprehension as any parent he’d interviewed after a child went missing.

      “When we were together, Steve, you spoke of your last case. The reason you were on medical leave. The parents didn’t follow the kidnappers’ instructions—” a choked sob caught in her throat “—and the child…”

      Died.

      He remembered Kevin Haughton every day. He couldn’t avoid seeing the scar on his chest from the bullet that had nearly killed him. There wasn’t any way on earth he could argue with her reasoning. He’d given it to her.

      “I couldn’t take the chance to phone on the way here. What if they were following me? I thought I was doing the best thing.”

      “I don’t doubt you thought you were right. But this makes no sense. Kidnappers don’t work this way. Why involve another person? Why you? Why force you to pick up the ransom from a second abduction?” He walked the length of the living room.

      Stopping at the window, he watched the steady downpour of rain. Rising water would soon be their enemy, just like time. The longer the kidnappers took to return her son, the less likely he’d be found.

      God, he was convinced. It surprised him how easily Jane had persuaded him. Yet, he knew she was holding something back.

      “What’s next?” he asked her. “You said you were waiting to surface in San Antonio. When?”

      “I need to be at the Alamo tomorrow morning at ten. They’re supposed to give me Rory,” she said.

      Steve heard another choked sob, and his chest constricted tighter.

      During their whirlwind romance, Jane had never cried. Their days and nights had been completely filled with laughter and love. Keeping his back to her now and maintaining his distance