Her Mistletoe Protector. Laura Scott

search engine didn’t bring up many hits. She tried using Luigi Gagliano’s name too, as he was a distant cousin to Anthony.

      Still nothing. And as she stared blankly at the computer, a terrible thought occurred to her.

      Here she was, waiting for Joey’s kidnappers to call with some sort of ransom demand, but what if she was on the wrong track? What if Frankie didn’t want her money, but simply wanted her son?

      Frankie had raised Anthony, bringing him into the world of crime at a young age. Was it possible he wanted to use Joey as a surrogate for Anthony?

      Was it possible that Frankie was, right now, driving far away with her son?

      Rachel’s heart rate soared as she surged to her feet. Nick had been right! They should have called the police and the FBI right away! If Frankie had kidnapped Joey for personal reasons then he already had a head start on them.

      She grabbed her phone, intending to call Nick, but then forced herself to stop and think. Why would Frankie send her threatening letters, saying she would repay her debts, if he didn’t want money?

      Pacing the length of the small motel room helped calm her ragged nerves. Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. She’d never had a panic attack like this before, not even in the dark days after Anthony had beaten her. She had to stop overreacting to every thought. Every remote possibility.

      Somehow she had to be smarter than Frankie Caruso or Luigi Gagliano.

      She sat down at the small desk and clicked on the mouse to reactivate Nick’s computer. There was one angle she hadn’t considered, and that was Frankie’s ex-wife, Margie Caruso. Frankie and Margie had divorced the year Rachel was pregnant with Joey, but, surprisingly, they’d stayed on friendly terms. She’d often wondered if Margie had also been involved in illegal activities; otherwise, why wouldn’t Frankie have tried to silence his ex-wife? After all, Anthony had often threatened to kill Rachel if she ratted him out.

      Anthony’s threats hadn’t been empty ones, either.

      And if Margie was part of the Mafia, it wasn’t a stretch to think that she could be in cahoots with Frankie on this kidnapping scheme.

      A quick search revealed that Margie was still living in the Chicago area. She wrote down the address, determined to convince Nick that they needed to pay the woman a surprise visit.

      THREE

      Nick couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel and Joey as he ran a few errands. He understood what Rachel was going through—he’d been inconsolable after his wife and daughter went missing, too. He knew he shouldn’t let his emotions get in the way of doing what was right, but seeing the pain etched on Rachel’s face was impossible to ignore.

      After picking up some new clothes he’d put a call in to his FBI buddy, Logan Quail, only to find out his friend was out of the country on his honeymoon. No wonder Logan hadn’t returned his calls. The timing was unfortunate, since Logan’s expertise would have been perfect for Rachel’s situation.

      But he’d just have to use another way to help Rachel find her son.

      As he was picking up some fast food, his phone rang and he was surprised to discover that the caller was his boss, Ryan Walsh. “Hi, Captain.”

      “Butler. We have some news from the crash scene you called in earlier.”

      “You do?” He juggled the phone as he handed over cash and accepted the bag of food from the bored teen at the window. “What do you have?”

      “We got a hit on one of the fingerprints. Perp’s name is Ricky Morales and he’s got a rap sheet, largely for drug busts, but, most recently, he was arrested for armed robbery. He just got out on bail about six months ago.”

      Nick pulled away from the drive-through window and parked in the first open slot he saw. “Do you think Morales has found a home working as a thug for the Mafia?”

      His boss grunted. “Don’t see why not. It’s a lead worth following since the truck is registered in his name, too. Explains why he dumped his ride as soon as he did. I’ll send his last-known address to you in an email. Where are you right now?”

      “Getting something to eat.” Nick didn’t want to say too much. “We also have a possible suspect in Frankie Caruso, who happens to be Anthony Caruso’s uncle. Ms. Simon is convinced that Frankie is back to take over the Mafia.”

      “What do you think?” Walsh asked.

      “I think she could be right. You might want to see what you can find out about Caruso’s activities. In the meantime, we’ll start looking for leads related to Ricky Morales.”

      “Sounds like a plan.” He could hear his boss scribbling notes. “Good work so far, Butler. Keep in touch.”

      “I will.” Nick disconnected from the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He debated searching for Morales right now, but then decided he needed to get back to the motel. At least he had some positive news to give Rachel.

      The drive didn’t take long. He grabbed the clothes and the bag of food, his mouth watering at the aroma of burgers and fries, and swiped his key card. The moment he closed the motel door behind him, he heard Rachel knocking on the connecting door.

      “Coming,” he called as he reached for the door. He smiled at her. “Don’t argue, but I brought food for the both of us.”

      “There’s no time to eat,” Rachel said in a rush. “Look what I’ve discovered.” She gestured to the computer screen. “Margie Caruso, Frankie’s ex-wife still lives outside of Chicago. We have to get over there right away.”

      Her excitement was palpable. “Good news, but I have something to follow up on, too.” He pushed the laptop out of the way so he could haul the food out of the bag. “I’ll search while we eat.”

      Rachel frowned, but he noticed she was staring at the burgers and fries as if her appetite may have returned. He bowed his head and gave a quick prayer of thanks. Rachel didn’t say anything, respecting his silent prayer, until he finished and dug into his food. “What are you following up on?” she asked.

      “Sit down and eat,” he suggested.

      She grimaced, but came over to sit beside him. As if she couldn’t help herself, she popped a French fry into her mouth. He waited until she surrendered to her inevitable hunger by unwrapping the second sandwich and taking a bite before telling her what his boss had uncovered.

      “You think this Ricky Morales is the guy who kidnapped Joey?” she asked, her green eyes filled with hope. “I mean, that seems to be the most logical conclusion. And we should be able to find him, right?”

      He nodded, even though he knew tracking Morales down wouldn’t be quite that easy. As he ate, he pulled up his email and jotted down the information his boss had sent. “Here’s his last-known address. It’s on the opposite side of town from Margie Caruso’s place.”

      “It’s only eight-thirty...there’s plenty of time yet to head over to see what we can find. I need to keep busy, searching for Joey We have to find him as soon as possible!”

      “We’ll check both addresses out tonight,” he assured her.

      “Thank you,” she murmured.

      He shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. He was beginning to identify with Rachel on a personal level. Her fear tugged at his heart. He knew, only too well, what she was going through. Those hours his wife and daughter were missing had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. And when the news came in that they were both found dead in their mangled SUV at the bottom of a ravine, his grief had been overwhelming. Without his faith, he never would have survived the dark days following their deaths.

      Grimly, he hoped and prayed that Rachel’s outcome would be different. Please, Lord, keep Joey safe in Your care and guide us in finding him. Amen.

      *