Powerhouse. Rebecca York

Matt.”

      He sounded so lost and defeated that she sprang out of the chair, crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him.

      As he stood rigidly in her embrace, she started speaking quickly. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. It’s just something that happened to you.”

      “And to my son.”

      “But you came back.”

      “I was twelve. He’s only … four.”

      When she pressed her face against his chest to muffle a sob, his arms came up to clasp her to him. “Shelley, I’m so sorry that I brought this on you—and Trevor.”

      “I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “I should have told you about your son. I should have made you part of his life. He missed knowing my parents, and he missed knowing you.”

      “And you worked hard to make up for that.”

      “Yes. We could have had more money, if I’d taken more clients. But I spent time with him instead.” She flapped her arm. “I felt guilty about that, too. I kept thinking that if I could have afforded a more expensive nursery school, he wouldn’t have gotten stolen.”

      “Don’t! They would have gotten to him some other way.”

      She went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I know now that I was fooling myself. I was being selfish. I didn’t want to get into a fight with you about my getting pregnant. So I just avoided the issue and kept Trevor all to myself.”

      He squeezed her tightly, then eased away. “Will you tell me about him?”

      “Yes. I’ve got pictures in my wallet. Is my purse in the mudroom?”

      “Yeah. Sorry. I should have given it to you.”

      “I didn’t need it,” she answered on the way to retrieve her purse. Opening her wallet, she got out a handful of pictures of a dark-haired little boy with blue eyes. The earliest one showed him in a high chair banging a plastic cup against the tray. Then there were two pictures of him at a playground. A school picture where he was posed against a blue background and a picture of him on a horse. “He rides?”

      “I figured he’d like horses. That was at a rodeo that came through Boulder.”

      “He looks like me,” Matt marveled.

      “Yes. I’ve got a lot more pictures at home. Not just pictures. I’ve got videos. And I try to write down the interesting or the funny things he does. I guess in the back of my mind I was keeping a record for you. But I couldn’t admit that to myself.”

      “Tell me more about him.”

      “He’s … sweet. And smart. He’s memorized all the songs they sing at school. He loves to paint. He’s already learning to read.”

      Matt looked impressed.

      She laughed. “He likes chili. I guess he gets that from you. But it’s hard to get him to drink his milk.” She glanced at the mugs still sitting on the table. “I have to put chocolate in it.”

      Eagerly she went on to tell him so many of the things she hadn’t been able to share with him. They made her feel closer to Matt—and to Trevor, too.

      “It sounds like you’re a good mother.”

      “I let somebody take him,” she whispered, because she knew that if she tried to speak louder, she’d break down again.

      “You couldn’t guard him every minute. You had to work—to support him. Sending him to nursery school was a good option. And you had no idea that anyone was after him,” he finished.

      “Now it feels like I was living in a fool’s paradise.” “I’m the one who would have been on guard.” “But you couldn’t be. Because I didn’t tell you.” He sighed deeply. “We’d better stop assigning blame. You came here so I could help you get him back. We’ll do it.” She nodded, hope blooming inside her. She hadn’t known any of Matt’s history, but knowing it made her feel as though they could find their son.

      “You need to eat something. Then we’ll get to work looking for him.”

      “Not the best conditions for traveling.”

      “We’ll start with the computer. With abductions. The way the world is wired today, it’s hard to keep anything in isolation—even when they told you not to talk about it.”

      “Okay.”

      He had just gotten up when a buzzer sounded, and she jumped.

      “What’s that?”

      “The alarm. That’s how I knew you were coming up the road.”

      Fear zinged through her. “You think somebody’s watching the ranch? That they know I’m here?”

      “I don’t know, but better safe than sorry.” He walked rapidly to the back entryway and took down a holster and a gun. Then he began getting into his cold-weather gear.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Going out to have a look. Like I did for you.”

      As she watched his preparations, she was thinking that in the normal course of events, he’d be considered paranoid for going out in the snow to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him. But it wasn’t paranoia when you’d been kidnapped as a child, and when there had just been another kidnapping.

      Still, she grabbed his arm before he could step out the door, and he turned to face her. “What?”

      Her lips trembled. “If the kidnapper knows I’m here, they could hurt Trevor.”

      He stood looking at her, considering. “I think we have to assume that they want him for something, and they’re not going to hurt him. They told you not to go to the authorities so they wouldn’t have any interference.”

      “I guess that makes sense,” she murmured.

      “Just like they wanted me for something,” he added.

      “What?”

      He swallowed. “To experiment on me, I guess.” Fear clutched at her insides again. “Do you think they’ll do the same thing to Trevor that they did to you?” “I don’t know.” “I’m scared.” He nodded tightly.

      “Are you thinking we should call the FBI?”

      “Not yet. I’m thinking we should handle this by ourselves, under the radar—and use the FBI as a last resort. But I’d like to make sure we are under the radar.”

      “Yes,” she agreed. She’d been on her own for so long, it was a relief to have someone else to share the decisions—and the worry. But she was going to carry her weight. Following him to the mudroom, she reached for her coat. “I’m coming with you.”

      “No. Stay here where it’s safe.” “You could get Ed.”

      “I don’t want to put him in danger—or anyone else.”

      Her heart started to pound as she peered into the darkness. “You think it’s dangerous out there?”

      “I don’t know. But I’ve had a lot more experience with protecting myself than you have.”

      She wanted to ask what he meant—exactly. Had someone threatened him since the boyhood kidnapping? But she knew that this wasn’t the time for questions, not when he needed to focus on whatever was out there. So she watched as he slipped out the door and into the frigid night.

      Still, as he disappeared around the side of the house, she had to force herself not to follow him as another scenario zinged into her mind. What if they both had it wrong? What if someone was returning Trevor to them—at the ranch?

      Her