New Year Heroes: The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7. Delores Fossen

to pick a fight. He stared at her assessingly.

      Even though exhaustion showed in the shadows beneath her eyes and her forehead was lined with worry, somehow she looked lovely. He’d never really noticed before how pretty she was. But she also looked achingly fragile, as if the mighty control she’d exhibited over the past hours might snap at any moment.

      “I’m just doing my job,” he said, refusing to be drawn into an argument with the mother of a missing eight-year-old. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” he suggested. “We’ve done everything we can do for now.”

      She sighed and swept a hand through her cascade of chestnut curls. “So, we just wait.” Her voice was flat, without inflection. It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement.

      Lucas didn’t reply. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make things better for her. There was no way he could tell her that, no matter what happened, he didn’t see a happy ending.

      If Jenny were responsible for this, then he would have to do his duty and arrest her for kidnapping. If Frank Landers had taken Billy, then what had he done with Jenny? The answers that sprang to his mind chilled his blood. And if somebody had taken Jenny for ransom, then Billy was expendable.

      No matter what, Lucas had the terrible feeling that a tragedy lay ahead and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

      THE FIRST THING Jenny became aware of was a headache the likes of which she’d never had before. She winced and reached up to grab the back of her pounding head. Slowly, other sensations and impressions began to seep through her mind.

      The smell of rotting fish and dampness coupled with the faint sound of water lapping against wood. The sound of insects buzzing and clicking. She opened her eyes and was terrified when she saw nothing but blackness.

      Where am I? The question screamed through her head, making it pound with more nauseating intensity. Panic surged inside her as she sat up, fighting back a scream of sheer terror.

      Before she could release the scream, a faint whimper sounded from someplace beside her. And with that whimper, memory returned.

      She and Billy had been sitting on the sofa watching cartoons. Billy had gotten up to the bathroom … and somebody had come into the house.

      One minute she’d been laughing at the antics of the Road Runner, and the next her mouth and nose had been covered with something that must have rendered her almost immediately unconscious.

      “Billy?” She tentatively moved a hand and encountered his warm little body next to her.

      “Jenny?” He scooted closer to her as another whimper escaped him.

      “Are you okay, buddy?” She pulled him against her and wrapped him in her arms. “Are you hurt?”

      “My head hurts and I want my mommy.”

      “I know, honey. But you’re going to have to be brave for a little while, okay?”

      She felt him nod. “Where is this place?” he asked. “Why did that man bring us here?” Billy’s body trembled slightly against her and she thought she detected a faint wheeze in his voice.

      With each minute that passed, Jenny’s mind grew clearer. “Did you see the man, Billy? Did you see what he looked like?” If she knew who had done this, then maybe she could figure out why.

      “He had on a black mask. I tried to run, but then he grabbed me and put something over my face and I guess I went to sleep.”

      A man with a mask. What was going on? Who had drugged them and brought them here … wherever here was? Once again a scream of terror rose up inside her, but she swallowed against it, knowing that she had to maintain control. She needed to be brave, not for herself but for Billy. If she lost it, that would only frighten Billy more than he already was.

      “Somebody took us, Jenny, and I’ll bet my mom doesn’t know where I am.” The wheeze in Billy’s voice wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

      “Don’t be scared, Billy.” She reached her hand up to touch his sweaty head, then rubbed the back of her hand against his damp cheek. “Even if your mom doesn’t know where we are, my brother will help her find us. You know Lucas is the sheriff. He’s very smart and he’ll find us in no time.” She hoped he believed her. She certainly wanted to believe her own words. Billy seemed to relax a bit.

      “I think it’s the middle of the night. Maybe we should both go back to sleep, then we can figure out how to get home in the morning,” she said. There was nothing that could be done in the utter darkness that surrounded them.

      “Okay.” Billy cuddled closer to her and she could tell by his breathing that he went back to sleep almost immediately.

      Sleep was the last thing on Jenny’s mind as she fought against a fear the likes of which she’d never known. She had no idea what kind of place they were in, was afraid to explore in the blackness that prevailed. She had no idea who had taken them and why.

      There was only one thing she was fairly certain of and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize it. The buzz of insects, the smell of fish and the sound of water all led her to believe they were someplace deep in the swamp.

      As she thought of all the miles of waterways, the hundreds of miles of tangled, dangerous swampland that surrounded Conja Creek, a new despair gripped her, and she prayed that her brother would be able to find them before it was too late.

       Chapter Three

      Lucas pulled into his driveway at six the next morning. His intention was to take a fast shower, then go talk to Phillip Ribideaux to see if the young man had any clue as to where Jenny and Billy might be.

      When he’d left Mariah’s house, she’d been seated in the same chair where she’d sat for most of the night, staring out the window as dawn slowly arrived. He’d left her in the charge of Deputy Ed Maylor, who would hold down the fort there while Lucas did a little field investigation. Maylor was a good man, bright and eager to get ahead.

      The Jamison home was a huge two-story antebellum mansion that sat on five acres of lush lawn. Lucas’s father had been sixty when he married his young bride, Elizabeth. He’d made a fortune playing the stock market with his old family money. He’d died when Lucas was eleven and Jenny was just a baby.

      Lucas didn’t have many father-son memories. His father had spent most of his time either in his office at home or in bed with a heart condition that had eventually killed him. Although Lucas would always believe it had been his mother’s demands and histrionics that had killed his old man.

      “Have you found them?” Marquette Dupre met him at the door, her black eyes radiating with worry.

      “No, I’m just here to take a quick shower then go have a chat with Phillip Ribideaux,” Lucas said as he headed for the grand staircase. Marquette followed close at his heels as he headed up to his bedroom suite.

      “That boy needs less money and more character, that’s for sure,” Marquette exclaimed. “You think he knows where Jenny and that little boy is?”

      “I don’t know.” He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face the woman who had been the housekeeper for first his parents and now him. “Jenny hasn’t said anything to you that I should know about, has she?”

      Marquette’s tiny face wreathed into something that looked like a prune. “You know better than that. That girl quit confiding in me when she was sixteen and I told you that she sneaked out of the house to meet that boy she had a crush on. How’s Mariah doing?”

      Lucas walked into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. “I’m not sure how, but she’s managing to hold it together.”

      “That don’t surprise me. That’s one strong woman. You can see it in her eyes. She’s got that cold gator stare. Besides, she’d have to be a strong woman