Spirit Of A Hunter. Sylvie Kurtz

would have to protect her son in whatever shortsighted foolishness Tommy had led him into. She batted at the runaway tears.

      Tommy had put her in a sticky spot. But maybe she could rescue both father and son from the Colonel’s sure punishment. She had to stall. Buy them time.

      And find them both. The sooner, the better.

      Back at the desk, she rubbed at the writing on the note as if it were a magic lamp. Tommy had given her the map. All she had to do was figure out the key to his insanity.

      Scotty’s okay. He’s with his father who loves him. Everything will be okay.

      She hung on to that thought and let it pulse a backbeat as she tried to decipher Tommy’s code.

      “Band on the Run” by Wings. She plunked her elbows on the desk and raked her hands through her hair. Think! What does it mean? Did he want her to focus on the title or were the lyrics part of the key? Was he running with someone else? Why was he running in the first place?

      She dug her fingers into her scalp. “Route 66” by Bobby Troup. Was he really taking Route 66 or was he going two thousand miles or was it the kicks part she was supposed to make something out of?

      “Deep Water” by Richard Clapton. She rubbed the heels of her palms against her pulsing temples. Was he drunk? Heading to California?

      She fisted both hands into her hair and pulled. What was it with all the road songs? None of this made sense. Tommy, help me out.

      “Where’s the boy?”

      Nora started and spun the desk chair around, instinctively blocking the note from the Colonel’s view. He stood in the doorway, suit-clad body army-straight and stiff, white hair—what was left of it—cut military-short around the shiny pink dome, brown mustache and eyebrows accent marks on an already well-punctuated face.

      “I thought he was with you.” Of course her treacherous cheeks had to blush, giving away her lie. “You shouldn’t force him to go to a party he doesn’t want to attend.”

      The Colonel’s nostrils flared at her inappropriate challenge. “James Enger is a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of him. It’s never too early to make connections.”

      She knitted her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting like a nervous recruit. “I’m sure Scotty’s around somewhere. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

      “I want him dressed and ready to go in ten minutes.” The unspoken or else hung in the air.

      “Yes, sir.”

      Shoot. What was she supposed to do now? Give Tommy up? No, not yet. There was still time to keep the peace.

      As the Colonel left, she whipped back to the note. A fist of panic gripped her chest. You can work through this, Nora. Deep River. Maybe Tommy had taken Scotty for a hike along the Flint River. They loved to hike together, but two hours of visitation every other Saturday didn’t give them much time. Not that she wanted Scotty stuck on the side of a hiking trail while having an asthma attack.

      She shook her head. Don’t go to the worst-case scenario. Find them. Bring them home. She dashed to her room, slipped the note, Scotty’s Advair and a fresh inhaler in her purse, then headed toward the garage. Her lips disappeared into her mouth as she listened for the Colonel and tiptoed along the precisely cut diagonal limestone tiles in the hallway.

      She was reaching for the key to her Mercedes on the pegboard by the garage door when the Colonel marched into the hall, steps thundering.

      “Where’s the boy?” he asked.

      “Scotty’s already in the car. I, uh, had to go back for something. We’re heading off to the party. As ordered.” Shoot, her face was flaming again.

      The Colonel waved an envelope. “He forgot James’s present.”

      “I’ll take it.” She reached out for the check.

      The Colonel jammed it in his breast pocket. “I’m driving.”

      Double shoot. The Colonel stepped past her, the drumming heels of his boots a reminder of his power, and into the garage where half a dozen cars were parked. “Where is he?”

      “In my car.”

      Oh, great, now she’d have to make Scotty look like an ungrateful grandchild to cover her lie. She pretended to look in the backseat, then under the car. “Scotty? Come out right now!”

      “You need to keep a tighter hand on that child. A boy needs to know who’s in charge. All this lack of discipline leads to insubordination.”

      “He’s just a boy.”

      “He’s a Camden. He has obligations. A reputation to uphold.” Blocking her escape with his broad shoulders, the Colonel flipped open his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button. “Prescott is missing.”

      Nora bit the tip of her tongue to keep herself from pleading Scotty’s case. That would only make things worse. Choose your battles. Better to wait until she’d found him.

      The Colonel’s already ramrod-straight body stiffened. “I’ll take care of it. Find the boy. Bring him to me.”

      Siccing hired muscle after a ten-year-old boy. Her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse. What was wrong with him? The bruiser would find Scotty all right, scare the snot out of him, then hand him to the Colonel. And the Colonel would feel obliged to punish Scotty for his unsoldier-like behavior. She couldn’t let that happen.

      Breathing in courage, she shored up her defenses. The thug might be good at tracking, but Scotty was her son, and she understood how his mind worked—and Tommy’s, too, as fried as it was. The muscle would scour the estate, but she already knew Scotty and Tommy were gone. Key tight in hand, she wended her way around the Colonel’s Cadillac toward her car.

      “Where do you think you’re going?” the Colonel barked at her.

      “For a ride.”

      “Now?”

      “I need fresh air.” In spite of her best effort for a show of strength, she squirmed into position behind the wheel and reached for the armor of the door.

      The Colonel grasped the top of it in one hand and denied her a shield. The pointed end of his icy stare pinned her against the blood-red leather upholstery. He knew. She swallowed the series of hard knots notching her throat. He knew she was holding something back. He knew that she wasn’t telling the truth.

      “If you’re abetting Tommy’s folly, you’ll pay the price.”

      “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “You lost the boy.” In the cavernous garage, the Colonel’s voice rumbled in warning.

      “He isn’t lost.” He’s with his father.

      The Colonel’s gaze slitted to a knife edge. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up filleted. “I don’t want you anywhere near that boy until I’ve had a talk with him about responsibility.”

      More like a hazing. A snort escaped her. “He’s not a soldier. He’s a little boy.”

      “He’s a Camden.”

      Reminding her once again that only his benevolence allowed her to stay at the mansion. But what choice did she have? Scotty had never signed on for this tour of duty. If she tried to leave, the Colonel would use all of his influence to take her son away from her. The threat of loss ripped through her, leaving her clutching the edges of her seat to keep balanced. At least this way, she had a say. She could protect her son—the way Tommy’s mother never had. The way her mother never had.

      Nerves rattling, she ratcheted her chin up one notch…two. “I know where he likes to go when he’s scared.”

      The Colonel’s face quivered in a purple mottle. “You’ve turned him into a sissy boy.”